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navybrat817 · 5 months

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I wish I had a smitten Bucky. Just sees me and wants me. 🥺

I know the feeling, nonnie.

Check Yes or No

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky instantly falls for you, but waits to ask you out.

Word Count: Over 2.1k

Warnings: Fluff, could be seen as instalove on Bucky's side, attraction, slight insecurities, minor time jump, Alpine being the best, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: I can't send Bucky your way, lovelies, so I hope you enjoy this short, surprise fic! ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky wasn't looking for love the day he met you, but it found him anyway.

“Hey, Buck,” Steve greeted from his seat when he walked into the conference rooms and nodded to the spot beside him that you occupied. “I’d like you to meet our newest transfer. She’s also moving into the Tower.”

He was a changed man the moment your eyes met. Breathtaking was a word to describe you given how he had forgotten to breathe. He had witnessed many sunrises and sunsets in his life, a kaleidoscope of colors painted in the sky to both soothe and awaken the soul. They paled in comparison to the beauty before him.

One glance and he belonged to you completely.

“Hi, Bucky. It’s nice to meet you.”

While he wasn't sure if Heaven existed, you speaking his name was like hearing the voice of an angel.

“I’m Bucky.”

Of all the things he could've said, reiterating his name was what his mouth went with.

Instead of giving him a weird look or brushing him off when he scowled at himself, you smiled. “I look forward to us working together.”

Bucky couldn't tell you what the meeting was about that day, but he remembered the details about you. The way you leaned forward in your seat to pay extra attention when someone else spoke, also giving him an ample view of your chest before he reminded himself not to stare. The slight crease in your forehead when you jotted down an important note. And the soft giggle you let out when Steve cracked a joke.

He suddenly wished he was funnier.

“Have a good rest of the day, Bucky,” you said when the meeting ended.

Bucky didn't have to try to smile with you. It just came naturally. When you smiled back, it was easy to imagine what it would be like if you were his girl.

“You, too,” he replied, giving himself a mental victory for not screwing up his words this time. “Wait!”

You paused and looked at him expectantly. “Yeah?”

Bucky realized he had no reason to keep you from leaving. He just didn't want you to go. “Do you need help moving your stuff in?”

“I actually got my things moved in late last night, but thanks for the offer,” you replied, checking the time with wide eyes. “I'm so sorry. I have to go. I’m in 2L if you need anything!”

“Bye,” he called after you, turning in his chair to watch you go.

How did he miss you already?

Though Steve had a knowing look in his eyes, he graciously kept his mouth shut as he left the room. He reminded him an hour later that he wouldn't break any bylaws by asking you out. The punk somehow knew that you weren't seeing anyone.

Which made him happy.

While he appreciated Steve looking out for happiness, he still had to get his head on straight.

“Once I completely trust my own mind, maybe I will,” Bucky said, even though the stuff was already out of his head. He owed it to himself to take his time. And you.

Imagine his surprise when he found a note from you on his door the next day.

Hey, Bucky! Lunch on me today? Check YES or NO.

The lopsided grin on his face wouldn't go away when he read it again. You must've been interested in him enough to ask about him. How else did you know his apartment number? Why else would you ask him to lunch?

He nearly shouted “YES” in the hall before he came to his senses and simply checked the option before he returned the note to your apartment door.

When he met up with you later, he told himself it wasn't a date. It couldn't be, right? It didn't keep his heart from stopping when you answered your door. Dressed down and casual, you looked like an angel went to Earth just for him.

“Hey, Bucky,” you smiled. “Ready to go?”

He hadn't said much on the way to the cafe since he was too busy hanging on to your every word, but it was like he had known you for ages as you carried on the conversation. Your questions weren't invasive and you didn't seem to mind the occasional short answers. It was also the shortest meal of his life, over too soon for his liking, and he also refused to let you pay for his meal.

He wanted to show you that gentlemen still existed.

“Lunch again next week?” You offered.

“Sure,” he answered, his head spinning from giddiness.

But it wasn't a date.

It was time to change that.

Today was the day. Six months from the day he met you. Six months of chatting with you between missions and slowly getting to know you over weekly lunches. Six months of falling for you more and more each day and he finally worked up the courage to ask you out.

But falling was the easy part. Confessing was an entirely different story. He would either crash to the ground and hope his wounds would later heal or you’d catch him as he fell. No matter what, he wouldn't let his nerves get the better of him.

“Just like we practiced, okay?” Bucky asked.

“Meow.”

Alpine nuzzled her head against Bucky’s with a gentle purr when he huffed. She was his little partner-in-crime through and through. Like you, even though you didn't realize it, the little white ball of fur helped save him. He was fairly certain he wasn't supposed to bring her to this floor, but any reprimand would be worth it.

Besides, the Tower, office, anywhere they operated should allow them to have their pets with them, especially for emotional support.

“I'm counting on you,” he teased, placing the folded up piece of paper in her mouth. “Go.”

He peeked around the corner when he set Alpine down. The sun illuminated you from where you sat in the lounge, curled up in your normal spot on the sofa. You liked to relax there occasionally to read. He wondered what book you had with you today.

Thankfully, no one was around to disturb you.

Except for him.

“Alpine, is that you?” You asked when you looked up, closing the book as the cat approached you. While the feline was cautious of some, she warmed up to you immediately when you met and solidified that you were the one for him. “Whatcha got there? Where’s Bucky?”

His name spilling from your lips was still one of his favorite sounds.

He held his breath when Alpine jumped up beside you, opened her mouth, and dropped the paper in your lap. He immediately began to second guess himself when you unfolded it with a furrowed brow. Why did he think this was a good idea? Why didn't he just ask you like a normal guy?

To be fair, he hadn't been normal for some time.

“Will you go out with me? Check YES or NO. Love, Bucky,” you read out loud with a huge smile, which was enough to make his heart race. You giggled a moment later when Alpine bumped your hand, the soft noise making his stomach do a funny sort of flip. “Okay, okay. Let me get my pen out of my bag.”

Bucky exhaled a little as he moved to stand in the doorway. You didn't toss the paper away, so that had to be a good sign. He carefully kept himself from showing any outward emotion when you met his gaze, but his knees nearly gave out. His palms also began to sweat when you gave him a half smile.

Just when he thought you couldn't look more beautiful than you had the day before, you proved him wrong.

He ran a hand through his hair and hoped he looked halfway decent since he hadn't brushed it. But you commented a few weeks back that you liked it long when you saw an old photo, so he wanted to grow it out. He lost count of how many times he imagined your fingers in his hair

Maybe one day.

Watching you grab your pen, it was like he was drowning. The tide pulled him under as you made a mark on the sheet. His lungs burned when you handed it back to Alpine. He couldn't come up for air. He couldn't breathe.

Until you smiled again.

“Thanks, Alpine,” you said.

His cat gracefully walked back to Bucky and he swore he caught you trying not to giggle as she climbed up his leg. His heart hammered in his chest when he took the slip of paper from her mouth. Meeting your tender gaze, he couldn't bring himself to open it though.

After he told himself he wouldn't let his nerves get the better of him.

“Not going to see what my answer is?” You asked as he carried Alpine into the lounge.

“I want to,” he replied, sighing as he took a seat beside you. His cat was perfectly content to lay in his lap. “But I’m questioning if I did this the right way.”

The note you gave him for a simple lunch request may have been a small gesture in your eyes, but it meant the world to him. He thought by asking you out this way that he could give you something meaningful in return. Something that only the two of you shared.

That was all he wanted.

You turned toward him, your knee touching his. The small touch sent heat down his spine. “Open it and you’ll find out.”

He nodded, thankful that his vibranium hand didn't shake as he lifted the sheet. “Wait, let me say something before I do.”

The corner of your lip tugged as you tried not to smile. “Bucky-”

“I like you. I really like you. I have since the day we met. And I'm going to like you tomorrow. And the day after that and the day after that,” he admitted in a rush, catching your sharp inhale as he looked into your eyes. “But I know my past isn't easy to deal with. If you just want to be a teammate or colleague, that’s okay. Just. Being a part of your life in some way is more than enough.”

Alpine lifted her head and looked between the two of you, as if she was waiting with baited breath to see what would happen next.

Bucky felt a crack in his heart when you didn't speak or react, his body slumping slightly into the couch. It was okay. He took a chance and told you how he felt. He wouldn't force you to reciprocate.

“Bucky?” You asked above a whisper, reaching over to help him unfold the paper. He gasped when he saw the checkmark beside “YES”, blinking rapidly to make sure you picked that box. “I really like you, too.”

“You do?” He exhaled, grasping your hand with renewed joy. He was careful not to squeeze too hard. Hurting you was the last thing he ever wanted to do.

“Yeah. Pretty much since the day I met you,” you admitted, glancing in your lap before you met his gaze again. He saw stars in your eyes. “And your past isn't your fault, Bucky. You aren't something to ‘deal with’, okay? You’re a good man. I can give you a whole list of reasons if you need it.”

Physically, Bucky’s body was in peak condition. Your confession, however, caused all of the air to leave his lungs and made him weak in the best possible way. A familiar warmth moved through Bucky’s veins as he breathed again and it dawned on him at that moment that he hadn't felt cold since you walked into his life.

Not once.

Your faith in him gave him strength. Your mere existence gave him the courage to try. And he didn't have to go it alone.

“Wow,” he breathed, relieved and elated as he gave you a small smile. “How about tomorrow night?”

“It’s a date,” you smiled.

“Great,” he smiled back. A date. He couldn't wait to see the look on Steve's face when he told him that he finally asked you out.

“And I think the note was purrfect,” you teased at Alpine before you scrunched up your face. “I ruined the moment, didn't I?”

Bucky brought your hand to his mouth, kissing it as gently as he possibly could. He could hear your heart race. So was his. “Not at all.”

He knew it was too soon to say he loved you and it was likely too soon for you to feel that way about him, but he felt hope in your smile that you would one day.

For now, he had a date to plan all because you checked “yes”.

We know it'll be the best date ever, right? Love and thanks for reading! 💙

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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unwantedtomost · 10 months

Text

so dirty — miguel o’hara

dbf!miguel o’hara x fem!reader

word count: 888

summary: miguel, who just so happens to be your dad’s best friend, fucks you in a bthroom

warnings: dirty talk, degradation, unprotected sex (i’m back to my old ways)

a/n: hehe two in like a day? look at me go. send me requests because i need more ideas.

“We shouldn’t do this,” came out of your voice in a tired tone. You tried to fight it but it got harder every time. How could you fight something that felt so right?

“I know, amor.”

Then he kissed you and you stopped fighting.

Things got dirtier every time he touched you. The first time he kissed you he was so soft, so delicate. He touched you like he thought you could fall apart in his hands. Now he was bending you over the bathroom sink with the whole neighborhood in the backyard—not to mention your father, his best friend. He still loved you all the same, you never doubted it for a moment. Something about the switch felt right. This was a dirty little secret, not a Romeo and Juliet love affair. It was meant to be dirty.

He used to kiss every inch of your naked body, muttering how much he loved you every time his lips left your skin. It was a harsh comparison to how he shoved your panties to the side and rubbed his rough fingers up and down your slit.

“You’re soaking,” he stated with pride. “This all for me, honey?”

“‘Course it is, Miguel.” Sometimes you try to be soft in times like this. He’d give you a small smile then it would leave. His eyes were hungry, you almost felt like prey.

“‘Course it is,” he repeated before bending you forward.

He spit on his hand, pumping himself a few times. He rubbed the head of his dick against your clit, causing you to shutter. So dirty.

“Beg for it.” Your brows knitted together, giving him a confused look in the mirror. “You heard me. Beg for it.”

“Give it to me,” you demanded, standing your ground.

His large chest was flush against your back, his chin grabbing your chin and making you look into his eyes. His lips brushed against your ear and his other hand gripped your hip like a vice. “I said beg. Or we’re going back downstairs right now.”

It wasn’t the worst threat in the world but at some point these little hookups became something you needed. He knew that. He felt the same way too.

“Please, Miguel,” you whined. “I love you so much. Need to feel ya inside me so badly. I promise to be such a good girl. I promise. I’ll be such a good girl.”

The tiniest smile came to his lips as he saw the tears lightly brewing in your eyes. God, how he loved you. He planted a sweet kiss on your temple. “Such a good girl, only for me, yeah?”

“Only for you.”

Suddenly, the head of his member entered your entrance. You gasped, causing his hand to clasp over your mouth. “Got to be quiet, amor, yeah? We can’t have anyone find out what a dirty little whore you are for me.” He quickly pushed the rest of his length inside of you. You screamed into the palm of his hand, gripping down on the countertop.

“Fuck, princess. Best damn pussy I’ve ever had. Such a good fucking girl.”

His thrusts were brutal and you loved every second of it. Something about the strange circumstances made something dormant in Miguel come out. He said the dirtiest things. His mouth sputtering whatever came to mind as he pounded into you like both of your lives depended on it.

“Letting me fuck you while half the neighborhood is in the backyard. You wanted me that bad. You’d let me fuck you anywhere, wouldn’t you, honey? Want to be my little fuckdoll. Let me take you wherever I want. As long as we don’t get caught, right?”

You nodded vigorously as your eyes screwed shut, your head resting on Miguel’s shoulder. He let you stay like that for a while until his fingers started to rub your clit.

“Look at me,” he cooed. You had no choice but to pry your eyes open and look at the disheveled state of the man you were falling in love with. “Keep looking at me when I make you cum on my dick. Look so fucking beautiful.”

You had to use your last amount of strength to keep your eyes open, losing all control of the noises coming out of your mouth. Both of you were glad that his hand was clamped over your mouth. You tried to hold back your orgasm just a little bit, something you did often in these scenarios, you wanted to hold on just a little bit longer.

But it was always impossible. As soon as he figured out what you were doing, his fingers worked quicker.

“Please, cum for me baby,” he begged. And how could you refuse him? Quickly the coil snapped and you turned to absolute putty in his hands. “I love you, honey. I love you so much.” He whispered in your ear as he came inside of you. “Love you so fucking much.”

Slumped there, panting, you had that terrible wave of realization of the predicament you were in. Doomed to be in love with a man you could never really be with. Banished to a life of dirty secret hookups in bathrooms. But you didn’t need to worry about that now. Not when he was smiling at you.

“I love you too.”

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #smut #oscar isaac smut #oscar issac

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luveline · 1 month

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Just thinking about Aaron taking a half asleep bombshell!reader’s makeup off on the ride home late after a case!! He’s so gentle with her and knows all the steps, doing it with care so he doesn’t wake her up fully

It’s only because Aaron knows that the driver employed tonight is temporary that he touches you freely. You’ve been on a plane for hours, at the office even longer, somehow, and you don’t crack —if anyone were to ask you how you were that night, you would’ve said perfect.

But Aaron knew you were exhausted, and alone in the car with him, you aren’t afraid to finally give up the act. You slouch with your eyes screwed closed and your GoBag in your lap, your hand skewed on his thigh.

You have very pretty hands, in his humble opinion. Mostly because of the way you use them. Even in your fatigue your thumb is grazing against the starched length of his pants gently, a curved back and forth.

He wishes that things between you weren’t quite so private. What man wouldn’t want to brag about being touched with such care? And by such a fiercely pretty woman?

“You okay?” he asks quietly.

The car crunches over the road in a constant humming like fine gravel. The driver doesn’t look from the windshield at Aaron’s voice, nor do you look up from your dozing.

“Honey, don’t get too comfortable,” he warns.

You hum with lips closed.

He decides it doesn’t matter. You can get comfortable if you want to. He can very well attempt to carry you up to your apartment. He’d be happy to do that. Aaron not so secretly loves to take care of you, after all.

“Can I see this?” he asks, taking your GoBag from you gently.

You manage a mumbled, “Yeh,” as he takes it.

“Thank you.”

Aaron unzippers your bag and goes to the very back where you keep your makeup bag tucked into a fabric pocket. From there he’s familiar, unbuttoning the front clasp, searching in the dark for your makeup remover and the small cloth you keep for emergencies. He’d wait to get home, only he knows there’s still a while yet to get there what with the roadworks closing the majority of the roads the run from Quantico to DC.

“What are you doing?” you ask, eyelashes dragging apart slowly.

“I’m going to wipe your mascara off before you fall asleep.”

“Do I need to keep my eyes open?”

“I think it’ll be okay.”

You go back to snoozing. Aaron rubs the mascara from your eyes until the cloth comes away clean, tiny gentle brushes of the cloth wrapped around his knuckle. It activates something deep within him to get to take care of you. He’s not sure if it’s masculinity or pride or love, but it feels good. He wishes he could do these things for you more often.

From there he wipes your face clean. He can’t imagine you’ll want to wash your face when you do finally get home, so he soaks a cotton round with the slim bottle of toner he often sees you using on stolen mornings or nights where he’s not supposed to be in your room, and he rubs that over each plane of your face with long, careful strokes. You turn your head when he encourages it but otherwise don’t move.

“There,” he says, more for himself than you as he wraps the dirtied round in your cloth, hiding both in your dark wash bag.

Your fingernails trail gently up the outside of his thigh. Your face swerves down into his shoulder, still tacky. “Thank you, Aaron,” you say. Aaron, and not Hotch.

“Don’t blame me if you break out,” he says, his lips against your crown.

It is definitely love.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble

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girlgenius1111 · 1 month

Text

please part 2

alexia x reader [the cover pic is completely unrelated to the fic except for that fact that she looks so incredibly snuggly here.] short little blurb post please... aftercare + conversation :)

You’d pulled out and shifted the both of you around so that Alexia was settled on top of your, cheek resting on your chest, waiting for her grip on you to slacken, when you felt the first tear drop hit your skin. You’d been lazily running your nails over the blonde’s back, but you lifted your head at the feeling, looking down at her. Her eyes were screwed shut, like she was in pain, and her lip was quivering.

“Alexia,” you sighed. “Talk to me, please.”

“Can you get me some water?” She whispered, not opening her eyes.

“Of course. I’ll be right back.” You slid out from under her, pretending for her sake that you didn’t hear the low whine that involuntarily left her.

You threw some shorts and a t-shirt on, one that was too large to be yours and headed to the kitchen. You returned with a glass of water, handing it to her, watching carefully as she sat up and drank the whole glass, before slumping back into the bed.

You then dampened a small towel, and returned to Alexia to clean her up. You were gentle, and the water had been warm, yet the blonde still shuddered at the sensation. Her eyes were open, now, and red rimmed, following you around the room as you got her a sweatshirt and underwear to put on, handing them to her and gently nudging her towards the bathroom. She went easily, although her legs shook slightly, and you took the time to quickly change the sheets. You grabbed her favorite blanket from the living room, and when you returned, she was curled up on the bed, and she looked to be crying again. You were wondering if this whole thing had been a mistake, you’d misunderstood what she’d needed, and let her talk you into an unhealthy coping mechanism, when she sat up and looked at you.

“Come to bed please?” Alexia asked. You nodded, sending her a small smile you hoped to be reassuring. Once you were on the bed next to her, she tugged you down, tucking both of you under the blanket, and burying her face in your chest. The hood of her sweatshirt was pulled up, and the only sign you had that she was, in fact, crying, was the slight shake of her shoulders, and the tight grip her hand had your shirt in.

“My love, are you okay? Did we go too far?” You asked finally, scratching lightly at her scalp over her hood.

“No, mi amor, you were perfect.” Alexia promised, pushing herself closer to you as if to prove her point. All it did was make you more worried; you were normally the clingy one.

“Then why are you crying?”

“I think something is wrong with me,” she mumbled, her voice thick with tears. “I do not feel right.”

You teared up yourself hearing those words leaving her mouth, not quite sure what she meant, but absolutely convinced that it was true. Alexia hadn’t been herself recently.

“What doesn’t feel right?” You asked, keeping your voice low and soothing, as if you were going to scare her away.

“I am so stressed. I feel like I am falling apart and I do not know why.”

“Baby, you don’t know why? You’ve been running yourself ragged the past few months. It was bound to catch up with you; being Barça’s captain and Spain’s captain? Coming back from a second knee surgery? The shitshow surrounding your renewal? That is a lot for anyone, Lex.”

Alexia nodded somewhat impatiently. “Sí, but it has never felt like this before. I am used to pressure and stress but this feels different. I am so tired, amor. I need a break.”

“Take a break, then, Alexia. No one would fault you for that.”

“No, I cannot. I cannot.” Alexia said, sitting up off of you and resting her head in her hands. You sat up too, brushing her hair back out of her face.

“Why can’t you?”

“I am Alexia Putellas. I do not take breaks. I do not get anxious or stressed. I am supposed to be able to handle all this, be good enough to handle it all but I am not. I am not good enough anymore.”

And there it was. The core of the issue; that Alexia, your perfect, sweet, Alexia didn’t feel that she was good enough anymore. If she wasn’t so upset, it would have been comical to you, because she was the closest to perfection you’d ever seen a person get.

“Ale,” you began, but she cut you off.

“Do not tell me I am, I know it is not true. I have been so focused on everything but you these last few months, I do not know why you are still with me. I am not good enough for you either,” she cried, though her hand reached blindly for yours, like she needed to feel you next to her. As if she was grasping at what she thought to be the end of your relationship.

“Alexia, look at me please.” You asked softly, waiting until she turned her head to face you before you spoke. You placed your hand on her cheek, trying to prepare yourself for her inevitable reaction to what you were about to say. “You need help, baby. More help than I can give you. I wish I could say the right thing, and make you believe that you’re good enough, for me, for football, for everyone. Because you are, Alexia. You are the best person I know. And feeling like this isn’t okay. It isn’t normal for you. And I don’t know why it’s happening, if you’re burnt out, or the years of pushing yourself to the brink are finally catching up to you, but I don’t think you can solve this on your own.”

She looked at you with a more open expression than you expected, which made you feel both better and worse at the same time. If she would agree to get help, that was good, really good. It also meant that she was feeling a lot worse than she would ever admit. The fear in her eyes was clear, and your chest ached at the thought of her feeling so horrible, and saying nothing about it.

“I think you are right.” She said eventually. “I have been trying to fix it for months, and it has not worked.”

“I’m really proud of you, Ale. I know this isn’t easy for you. And asking for help isn’t easy, but you did, and I am so proud of you. Estoy tan orgulloso de ti.”

Alexia blinked back a few more tears, squeezing your hand tightly in hers. “I could not do any of this without you, mi amor,” she said softly. She looked like she had more to say, opening and closing her mouth a few times before she shook her head.

“What?” You asked, and she sighed, wishing you weren’t so observant. Or maybe wishing she wasn’t so obvious.

When she spoke, her voice shook and cracked, like it wasn’t sure it could take your answer.

“If I never play again like I used to. Would you still love me?”

You hated how intrinsically Alexia tied her self worth to football. How she felt herself only worthy of love if she was playing well.

“Alexia, sometimes you don’t use your brain. I would love you if you never played in another match again. If you never scored another goal, or won another trophy. You will, I’m sure of it. But I don’t love you because you’re Alexia Putellas. I love you because you are my sweet Ale. Who loves her mom more than anything, would kill for her sister. Who hates bananas but buys them anyway because I like them. Who cries when she sees videos of cute dogs, and who likes to sleep practically on top of me even when it’s hot. Who makes me feel loved every single day. I love you, Alexia. More than I love your talent and your achievements. You are more than enough for me without all that.”

The force of the hug Alexia tackled you with knocked you back into the pillows. She held you tightly against her, only murmuring a soft and heavily accented, “thank you” in your ear. You hummed in response, settling into the pillows and pressing a delicate kiss to the side of Alexia’s head. It was quiet in the room for a while, until she abruptly sat up off you a few minutes later, an earnest smile on her face as she traced a finger faintly over your forehead.

“I am going to marry you someday.” She said, so definitively that for a minute, all you could do was blink at her.

“What?” You spluttered. You’d never really talked about marriage with Alexia. You were content to have her for as long as you were able.

“Me voy a casar contigo algún día. I do not have a ring, and I do not have a plan. But I will. Just so you do not make other plans.” She smirked, leaning down to peck your cheek a few times. She was blushing, looking at you with so much love, it left you fighting back tears.

“I guess I'll have to decline all those offers I have, then.” You joked, but the words were so choked up, Alexia only chuckled slightly, pulling you into another bone crushing hug.

“Good. Because you are mine.” She murmured.

You were pretty content with that, honestly. Being hers.

-----

short but i hope this was what everyone was looking for :)

#alexia putellas x reader #woso one shot #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso fanfics

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faeriekit · 23 days

Text

Down and Out

phic phight prompts taken from @sillysugargliders and @akela-nakamura

“Technowizard!” Tuck declared, pointing up towards the glass ceiling. The ratty Hack-A-Thon tee-shirt and Star Wars print pants did not an imposing outfit make.

Sam’s avocado-coated face barely even looked up from her phone. “Lame.”

“The Finest Pharoah!” Tucker tried again, glaring straight down at Sam as he posed again— this time, with his other hand.

“Cringe,” was Sam’s bland contribution.

Tucker threw both his hands in the air in sheer exasperation, narrowly avoiding sending Sheila2 flying up into the air with them. “The— oh shoot— the Tech Menace! The Electric Enemy!”

“Makes you sound like a bit-rate villain,” Sam drawled, finishing out her level of tetris with perfect accuracy. She clicked off the phone before she could get suckered in. “Tucker, have you considered any good names? At all?”

Fair revenge was fair revenge, and Tucker didn’t want to waste his own pillow on vengeance. Using Sam’s bamboo-woven pillowcase against her facemask was fair game— and her shriek of rage over the smeared facemask was just desserts.

Tucker eventually lost, of course, smothered underneath the very same pillow he’d assaulted his friend with, but hey; he’d given it his all, and that was what mattered in the end.

Winning would be nice, though. You know. One day.

In the meantime, though, they were squatting in Sam’s greenhouse, reclining on air mattresses on recycled wooden palettes. It was kind of cold— Tucker was glad Sam had thought ahead and brought blankets— but there were no bugs, and there was no rain, even if there were frogs singing bleakly outside glass walls throughout the night.

Sam was good at pretending it didn’t bother her.

Tucker knew it had to, though. Sam was used to having things. Being comfortable. Having her bamboo toothbrush and toothpaste tabs at the ready, with her natural fiber blankets and her desktop computer and a credit card that would solve the majority of her problems.

Instead they had used the cheapest versions of everything at the dollarstore. Abrasive discount soap. Deodorant with added aluminum. They’d brushed their teeth at the spigot where the hose screwed on, and tomorrow they’d wash with the hose the same way.

Card could be traced. Tucker was the only one who’d been carrying cash in the moment.

Man, Tucker thought, tunnelling himself under his blankets. Running away sucked. At least the only thing Tucker had to miss was his parents. And his spare parts.

…He hoped his parents weren’t looking for him. The "proper authorities" had probably already informed them he was infected. They should…they should hopefully know that being gone was safer than being there.

Sam’s black-nailed thumb and green-coated face peeked at him from under the covers. Without his glasses, she mostly looked like a blob, so Tucker just waved. He wanted to be social. He wanted to be happy.

It felt like everything was falling apart through his fingers, and there wasn’t anything he could do about it.

“Hey,” Sam said. “If you want to charge your tech, I’m out of the plug.”

It was a sweet gesture. “Thanks,” was all Tucker could say. But he didn’t want to leave his cave.

Sam, of all people, knew what level of trust the gesture meant when Tucker gave his phone over to her. She didn’t say anything, but she didn’t have to; it was the same level of trust Sam was showing to him by letting them stay here, together, instead of apart, the way Jazz had originally planned.

Running away properly would have been safer. But here, in this moment, they were warm, and safe, and somewhat fed.

Tucker stuck his face into his pillow and thought It doesn’t get much better than this.

…Man, it was supposed to be roast beef dinner tonight. He was missing out!

“...I still think that Technowizard is a cool name,” Tucker grumbled to himself. Sam shot him a fond, if exasperated look.

“No.”

“Fine, bossy. What did you pick?”

“Foxglove,” Sam replied simply. “Most famous poisonous plant in the Western world. It’s poetic.”

Tucker thought on it. It…had merit, but… “You know people are going to shorten it to Foxy, right?”

Sam paused.

…She set her phone down with clear disgust. “Ugh. I hate that you’re right.”

“I’ll never let you down,” Tucker offered, very seriously. “I’m always right.”

Sam pulled the blanket back down over him until he squawked in indignation.

“Okay,” Sam’s voice came in muffled through their blanket barrier. “Maybe we can both hold off on names until we decide how we’re doing this, exactly.”

This, of course, being their new life on the run— ideally, taking down the GIW and their hold on Amity Park, or in the short run, cutting and ditching in every effort to not get captured. Their plan so far wasn’t much better than “wait for Danny to get home from Space Camp”, but, you know…needs are as they must. Or something.

“How about Cryptid?” Tucker offered, poking his head out of his blanket hovel. His glasses were…somewhere, but no matter where he groped for them, his hands still came up empty. “Short. Simple. Lots of hard consonants. Easy to muddy up in an internet search with other information. They’d be looking for you and find, like, the Entfield Horror.”

Sam gave that thought its due while Tucker found his glasses. “It’s…better than Inviso-Bill for sure.”

Okay, that one was worth the laugh.

“You could try Technomage,” Sam tried out in turn. "It would be like naming a snake 'snake', since you’re going through magical puberty or whatever, but…”

Tucker snorted. Magical puberty.

…But.

She’d been the first to notice when Tucker hadn’t even needed to touch Edna (PDA of the month) to write her new programs in class. She’d taped over his stylus to prove it to him— and Tucker hadn’t even noticed with the weight of a phantom stylus in his hand as he coded telepathically. Realizing he hadn’t been tapping any of the buttons had been. Spooky.

His phone didn’t need a SIM card anymore. He was saving his family a lot on outgoing and ingoing calls, apparently, and the reported number of texts they’d had to pay for was a big fat goose egg.

Also, he was pretty sure someone was emailing him at the moment.

…He wasn’t sure how he knew. But. It kind of tasted like blue raspberry. It was probably Danny’s sister.

So. Um. the magical puberty thing hadn’t been too off track. It had certainly been less subtle than Sam’s newfound ability to speak with plants, but…at least talking to your flowerpots looks normal from the outside looking in.

Apparently lawn mowing day at school gave Sam real trauma, though. Finding her in the nurses’ office with her head buried under her denim jacket had been scary.

“Better than nothing,” Tucker begrudgingly agreed. He left his glasses wherever they were; he’d find them in the morning. “I mean. We technically don’t even need names. If we just start breaking their stuff, they’ll probably name us anyway.”

Sam laughs. The green on her face is gone; she likely wiped her mask off when Tucker couldn’t see. “With you hacking their stuff?”

“And you growing your freaky vines out of their gear,” Tucker added. “The…what’s the one. The one that ate that one house?”

Sam leans her head down onto Tucker’s mattress. Her clean, damp face swims into view. “Oh. The kudzu?”

“Uh huh.”

“Yeah, I can cultivate that— not here, since it grows so fast. Did you know Kudzu’s supposed to be eaten? People usually take it off the roadside in China for an easy food source. That’s why it overtakes so much stuff here: there’s no one taking on the role of its natural predator.”

Huh. Well, sounded like something Sam would know. Tucker wedged his pillow further underneath his head; Sam’s still had some goop on it, so he gave her his extra blanket instead.

Sam stuffed it underneath her head with no issue. Without her purple lip and filled in brows, she just looked like Sam— just like a girl in his class, who wanted to make the world a better place, and didn’t know how to do it.

Tucker wanted to do better too.

But they wouldn’t do it alone. They’d be better off with Danny than without.

“All we have to do is make it until Danny comes back. And then we can reconvene.”

…And then what?

“And then?” Tucker asked, a little too quiet.

Sam had never backed down from a challenge. She never would. “And then we kick ass.”

Well. When she said that, it was all so simple.

The lights clicked out in the greenhouse, and just in time— the outside started to burst with light and sound as agents tore up the road outside the Manson property.

The door was locked. The daisies at the door and the wispy strings-of-hearts would give them more than enough warning if the agents swept through.

It was bedtime, or good enough as.

Sleep wasn’t restful, but the quality of the night didn’t matter; it only had to get them to the next day.

#phic phight 2024 #danny phantom #Phic phight #tucker foley #Sam Manson #ambiguous timeline when they're on the run from the GIW! 🎉#Danny's fine he's just out of town #'where' space camp. he's on a break #giw as a bad guy with local regulatory power #fill

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rimunagenius · 7 days

Text

The One Where You Royally Screw Up.

ʚ pairing: Kate Martin x Roommate!reader

ʚ word count: 3.1k words

ʚ warnings: RPF!! , slight smut, fingering, angst, use of ‘y/n’ if that even is one

ʚ rimunagenius speaks: part 4 is FINALLY here!! i’m so sorry for the delay, it was supposed to release friday but the cold i had thought i was getting over got worse in a span of hours so i said id release it on saturday, but i spent all my saturday in bed asleep bc i have the worst headache and nausea from the cold, and then today it was supposed to release early but the ending never got saved and i realized i had a communications test to take so i had to finish writing it and revising after…but it’s here!! finally. so this is angst so sorry, but trust, the pining and sexual tension that’s to come is gonna be worth it!!!

Part 4

| Series Masterlist |

This felt wrong. You knew it wasn't the best way to cope with the feelings you had realized you were harboring for Kate.

But you needed to get over it. You couldn't possibly be this self destructive, and let yourself fall your roommate. She let you live in her apartment, and gave you grace when you didn't help pay rent for the first two months, trying to find a new job.

She deserved better than to have a friendship ruined just because you loved liked her. It wasn't fair. But this didn't feel fair to you either. Kissing Juliana in the backseat of her car was the last place you wanted to be. This should be Kate. For a moment you thought it was.

That's how you ended up here. Over the span of several months since reporting Nick, he was removed off campus and was doing time. You and Kate had celebrated the accomplishment and never spoke about it again.

Since then you two have been a lot closer. "Sleeping over" in eachothers room. Cuddling more on the couch. It all started that night you both skipped practice. You knew where it was going, so did she. But the inevitable outcome if the actions you two were so good at doing were going to ruin you both. You couldn't have that. That's why you took Juliana up on the date two months ago. You guys made it official that month.

You couldn't have what you and Kate so desperately wanted, cause when you were getting ready, you saw the way Kate watched you. The longing looks she gave you as she sat on the couch next to you, while you did your makeup.

The way you looked absolutely gorgeous in the outfit you wore out to dinner, how she wished she was the one having you on her arm, how she was the one seen in public with you, and got to bring you home at the end of the night. But she wasn't, so she tried not to make it a thing when you came home the next morning. Or when you two made it official.

"You like that?" Juliana whispered in your ear, a small giggle escaping her lips that you could feel throughout your body.

Your panting echoed in the car, while your hands traveling all over her body. Throwing your head back, you moaned as her fingers curled inside of you, fingertips brushing against the soft spongey part inside you. "Oh—Kate." You moaned it before you could even think.

Your body froze, any expecting orgasm thrown out the window. Her fingers paused, softly but swiftly removing her fingers from your sopping cunt. Grabbing a towel in the pocket behind the passenger seat, Juliana avoided looking at you while she cleaned the remnants of you off her hands.

"So, you guys aren't just friends?" Juliana knew that you and Kate were close, she didn't mind. Really. But she saw the way you looked at Kate when she'd leave after dropping you off at class. She saw the way Kate watched everything you did with a look on her face that made it seem like you hung the moon.

"What—that's not—I didn't mean—" You couldn't even think. How could you totally embarrass yourself and do that to Juliana. You didn't even know why you said it. In the far back of your mind, you guess you wished it was Kate. But you thought that was just the mere thought of your fantasies talking.

You've imagine what'd it'd be like to sleep with Kate, hell, every gay woman in America probably has. But that was just a fantasy. You liked Jules. Atleast you thought you did.

"No, tell me right now. Are you and Kate more than friends? I need to know so I don't think I have a chance with you." Julianas eyes were pleading. Sad. She wanted you two to work; she really liked you.

"We're not more than friends." You made sure to look her in the eyes when you said it. You didn't know if it was convince her, or to convince yourself. Maybe if you looked sincere and she believed it, then you would.

"But you want to be, right? Why else would you moan her name while i'm trying to fuck you?" Juliana wasn't mad, she just wanted to know why. Why did you go through with this, sleeping with her, knowing you wished she was someone else.

You couldn't answer her. You didn't know how. You looked down, grabbing your black tank top and sliding it over your head.

"I honestly have no idea, Jules." The name suddenly felt so foreign rolling off your tongue in this context. Juliana winced at the nickname. Suddenly feeling angry about it now.

"Don't call me that. Why did you say her name?" The next pieces of clothing to go on was your black biker shorts and underwear. Fixing your white tube socks, you searched for your shoes.

"I don't know." Was that all you could say to her? She surely deserved more than what you were giving, and you sure as hell weren't giving her anything.

"Stop saying I don't know and just say you like her. That's all I need to hear." Juliana's voice rose as you grabbed your ankle boot docs, sliding them on your feet.

"I don't like her, Jules—I mean, Juliana. I don't like her, okay?" Who were you kidding? Repeating the four words wasn't convincing anyone in the car.

"Jesus Christ, Y/n! Are you fucking kidding me!?" Now she was getting irritated. "You do! There...it's out in the open. Why didn't you just tell me before letting me think that I had a chance?" Her eyes went glassy, now turning pink.

"I don't know why I said it, okay? I think I do like her, and I know it's wrong for imagining her instead of you. You don't deserve that—"

"You're right. I don't." Juliana stepped out of the car, her never taking her clothes off, only aiming to please you, missing. She held the door open, so you could slide out. "Look, I'm not mad at you. I guess it's my fault for falling for you even after I saw how you looked at her."

Watching tears fall down her face, it brought tears to yours. You didn't mean to hurt her. You should've figure your shit out before starting anything. You should've figure out your feelings for Kate.

Thinking you could fill the void with a relationship and sex with another woman, without talking to someone about how you felt, was something only transactional on your end. You hurt someone's feelings because you couldn't figure out your own. How could you jump into a relationship with her?

"No, it's not your fault. I was so stupid for starting something with you—not that you're not great, because you are. But because I should've known what I was doing was wrong. It wasn't fair to you, I'm so sorry." You wiped a tear off her face, your frown deepening as you saw the hurt in her eyes grow.

"Give yourself some grace. I wouldn't know what it's like to fall inlove with someone i've been friends with for so long. It must be hard. But just—don't do this to someone else. Figure out your feelings first." Juliana turned and opened the passenger side door, you closing the backseat passenger door. She handed you your clip and your bag.

"Figure it out with Kate." She gave you a tight lipped smile, before waking around the front of her car and getting inside the drivers seat. You nodded your head, and decided you had to tell Kate.

Walking back to the apartment gave you plenty of time to think. You've been doing that so much lately, you don't know how to anymore. What happened to you?

You haven't recorded vlogs, get ready with me's, or any content for your channel in months. Opting for the vague communication with family and friends. The spiral of trying to get Kate out of your head, and trying to shove her back into the friend zone, was so consuming. You haven't even lived your life.

You needed to say it. You needed to tell someone. You needed to figure it out.

Walking inside, you set your bag and keys down on the counter. What the fuck were you going to say? How could you tell Kate that you and your girlfriend were hooking up, and the whole time you wished it was her.

Struggling to decide on who to tell, you settled for embarrassing yourself to a friend, who you knew would help you. Scrolling to find Jadas name in your contacts, you pressed her contact and listened to the phone ring.

"Hey, Jada!" You said when she answered the phone.

"Hey! What's up? You're coming to practice later, right?" Today was an off day. You usually only ever needed to be at like two practice a week.

"Today's an off day for me, and I would go as a spectator but that's why i'm calling." You swallowed the lump in your throat and sighed. This was gonna be so awkward to explain.

"Wait so you're telling me that...you're actually inlove with Kate...but you can't tell her that and because of that, you moaned her name while you were having sex with your girlfriend? Oh, that's bad, babe." You could see her face without having to see it. When you looked down at your phone, you were correct.

"I know, I know. It's super bad. I don't even know what's worse, the fact that I did that to Juliana, or the fact that she wasn't even mad about it." Recalling earliers incident, she didn't even overreact.

"Probably because she already knew. She just didn't want to see it until you did what you did. She just wanted to keep you while she had you. I get it. Happens to the best of us." Jada nodded her head and ate chips while she watched her show.

You guys ended up Facetiming halfway through the phone call so you could give proper recollection to the incident. Jada needed to see the facial expressions and everything to give her proper advice.

"Oh my god, Jada. Why do I have to feel this way for Kate?" You put your head in your hands and cried a little. You were emotionally overstimulated, the weight of your actions now weighing on you. You looked up, looking to the ceiling. Taking a deep breath, you looked down at Jada.

"Aw, you'll be okay, babe. I promise. We are all human, we all make mistakes. Don't beat yourself up about it, just learn from it. As far as telling Kate goes, I wouldn't tell her unless you were one hundred percent sure that what you're feeling is real. And when you're ready, sit her down, don't ambush her, but sit her down and talk about it."

"What if she thinks I'm literally crazy and so weird and she kicks me out?" You started to spiral.

"Hey, that's not gonna happen. She's a very understanding person and you know that. You've lived with her all these years for godsakes." Jada slapped her hand down on her bed, flipping her bowl of chips. "Oh my god!" She screamed. You laughed at loud, watching some fly across the screen.

The front door opened, a sluggish Kate walked through the door. She had been very tired recently; basketball and finishing school were growing to be very exhausting. She watched you laugh so hard that tears were falling down your face. A scream laugh, that grew quiet, a loud gasp following which she recognized as Jada's laugh through the phone speaker. She walked over and sat down on the couch next to you, resting her head on your shoulder to say hi to her other best friend. "Hi, Jada!" She smiled big into the camera, her sleepy and drowsy mood suddenly vanishing.

You put your hand on Kate's cheek, patting it softly. You looked at Jada through the screen. Your eyes stare into hers. She nodded softly, covering it with leaning down to grab the fallen chips. You knew she was right. Kate wouldn't give you a hard time but you couldn't help but panic.

You three stayed on the phone for a little while before Jada hung up so she could leave for practice. You placed the phone in Kate's room while you sat on her bed, so she could still talk to you both while they both got ready.

Kate was on her way out the door when you stopped her, hand on her arm, "Hey, can I talk to you when you get home? It's kinda important." You were so scared to tell her. But you had to rip the bandaid off right?

"Yeah, of course. I'll see you when I get home. I love you." She closed the door behind her. You stood there for a moment, staring at the door. You had three hours to prepare yourself for tonight. How the fuck were you going to tell her?

You drove yourself insane for the last 3 hours that you were alone in the house. You cleaned the kitchen, the living room, your room, mopped the kitchen, and vacuumed every surface that could be vaccummed in the house. You took a shower, and almost changed your pajamas twice.

You finally sat on the couch, watching whatever was on, literally fucking panicking. Kate had walked through the door thirty minutes ago, cleaning herself up.

"Okay, so what did you need to tell me? You okay?" She sat on the couch next to you, smiling softly to herself when she saw you were wearing one of her old hoodies. She hasn't seen in it in so long.

"What?" You looked at her, noticing smile on her face. She shrugged her shoulders.

"Just haven't seen that sweater of mine in a long time." She adjusted how she was sitting.

"Oh, I forgot I stole this from you a long time ago." You looked to her, instantly regretting it. She was manspreading and she looked so good. You could not look at her when you told her this.

"Okay, anyways. Back to what I needed to tell you. So, Juliana and I broke up." You paused. Her face pulled into a frown.

"Aw i'm so sorry. Are you okay?" Kate reached her arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer. You didn't fight it. Choosing to lean into her touch. You closed your eyes, gathering the sheer will to be able to tell her what the hell happened.

"I'm okay, Kate. I promise. But we broke up because we were hooking up in her car, and I know you said not to give you details, but it’s relevant because I moaned your name. While she was trying to fuck me.” You finally got it out, but it wasn’t helping that Kate’s face didn’t express any telling emotions.

You lifted your head from her shoulder, wincing slightly when she immediately moved a small distance on the couch. You needed her to say something but you’d get it if she didn’t. You couldn’t begin to understand the digestion of something like this.

“Oh, wow. That’s crazy.” Kate stared blankly at her slippers that she had been wearing. She was tugging on the strings of her hoodie.

“Yeah…” You were kinda let down at the reaction she had. You were expecting an immediate blow up at what you had just announced. Or some type of general reaction.

She wasn’t saying anything. You could see the gears turning in her pretty head, but nothing was coming out of her mouth. It made you more nervous than before you even told her. “Is that it? Kate?” You watched her blue eyes meet yours.

The shade of blue so pretty, and so relaxing. “What does that mean? Why?”

“Because I love you, Kate.” The sincerity in your voice hitting her like a truck. There’s no way you were finally saying these words to her. You finally said them but at the worst possible time.

“I love you, too.” She replied in the quickness. Almost instantaneous as you said them. She loved you, possibly with every bone in her body.

“No, like, romantically. Not platonically.” You clarified to make sure you heard her correctly. She sighed before speaking.

“I know, that’s why I said it back. But you know we can’t do anything about it, right?” That’s when it hit you. She wasn’t mad, she was just playing it smart. You nodded your head shortly, looking down at your hands.

“Okay, what does that mean for us, though. How exactly are we going to live together knowing there’s something here, and not do anything about it.” You thought about it, and it made sense. The final four tournament already coming. This year was crazy and passing by so fast.

They won the Big Tem tourney almost a month ago. The stress of the biggest tournament this season was coming up and a relationship, the additional stress and possible blow up of a relationship, was hard. Cultivating a new relationship at this time was stress Kate didn’t need. You couldn’t do that to her.

Kate prided herself on being level headed. That’s how she led her team so good, on and off the court. Her ability to take accountability and responsibility was unmatched, so she couldn’t understand why coming up with this resolution was so hard.

She knew it was wrong to start something she wanted to put her all in, at this moment, because she wanted to put her all into basketball. It was more important to her at this moment in time. She knew you’d understand.

“Tell me this again in a couple months, yeah?” Kate said, a small smile on her face. Trying to lighten the mood, she held her hand out.

You looked at her and then at her hand. You shook it. It was quiet for a beat, “And about the living situation, we just do it how we’ve been doing it all these years. Day by day.” Her hand that still remained in yours, pulled your body closer to hers.

This wasn’t the way you wanted to tell Kate that you were inlove with her, that you accidentally almost got off to the idea of her when your girlfriend was indeed not her, or the fact that you couldn’t start a relationship right away. But laying here, against her side, while you sat and watched whatever was on the tv to distract from the overwhelming expression of emotions was okay for now.

You knew you just needed to give it time. You two would come together. For now, you’d just have to wait. So you both sat there, counting down the days until you knew you could be together.

It was already the most insanely slow countdown of your lives.

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subbyalbedo · 6 months

Text

Kinktober Day 31 - A/B/O with omega!Muzan Kibutsuji

Happy Halloween! 🎃👹

Dom!alpha!reader x sub!omega!muzan

reader has a cock and Muzan gets a little ooc but I’m proud of this ;)

~~~

Muzan Kibutsuji.

To most, a feared demon, the most powerful in the world, and a terrifying creature of the night.

But what they didn't know, was that he was an omega.

For years, he had kept it hidden, using the pathetic human scent patches and taking idiotic pills to remain in control.

Of course, you didn't know all of this. But, you barely knew Muzan except for the fact that he was the extremely powerful demon who turned you, and you hadn't seen since.

But as you were walking down a dark alley, right after a delectable meal, you saw a dark figure slumped against the side of the brick building lining the shadowed road.

Hmm, dessert?

But as you got closer, you smelled that not only was it not a human, but it was a demon.

And...he was in heat.

Muzan was furious. Furious, and panicked, and so fucking screwed, and as he slumped against that wall, he felt like he was falling apart.

He had failed to notice the signs of his heat soon enough to stop it, and now he was hidden in an alley unable to move. He could feel his dick leaking, and he felt so disgustingly needy that he wanted to scream.

The heat was overtaking his body and mind so much, that he didn't know you were approaching until you were right in front of him.

"What's a pretty thing like you doing out here all alone?" You grinned down at him, and his pretty red eyes glared back up at you.

"Go away." He didn't know what to do, but he was the strongest demon. He would make you respect him. Probably kill you to make sure no one knows about his...

"Aw, poor little omega is getting angry?" He looked absolutely gorgeous, and very fuckable, and you knew that no matter what, at the end of the night, you'd have him.

"Do you know who I am?!" As soon as he said it, he regretted it. Your eyes lit up with recognition, and he cursed himself for his incompetence.

"Muzan Kibutsuji. You're prettier than I remember." With a sly grin, you reached out to stroke his face.

Faster than you could see, he tore off your arm, fighting off a shiver that was triggered when his omega sensed the alpha.

With some rather quick regeneration, you regrew your arm and looked at his warily.

"Muzan Kibutsuji is an omega? Well, that's absolutely delicious."

At the word omega, Muzan felt repulsed, but the animal inside him made him want to submit to you.

There was nothing you wanted more in this moment than to fuck this gorgeous demon king. But you wanted to make him want it.

So you released your scent into the air, and immediately, Muzan let out a whine, sinking to his knees.

As soon as his legs hit the pavement, he realized what he did, and immediately tried to stand up again, repair some of his broken dignity. But you were having none of that.

"Down, omega." You commanded, and he couldn't help but moan as he crumpled, forced to bow on the ground before you.

"You dare to command me?" He gritted out, he could feel his length brushing lightly on the ground but he refused to rub himself, he refused~

without even meaning to, his body started humping the ground desperately, and even you didn't see it coming.

"I don't even need to command you. You're a slut all on your own."

He was about to lash out, kill you with the little power he still had, but you were a step quicker.

"Can you be good for me?" He felt himself almost let out a whimper, but this time he was able to hold it back.

"Good omega." You purred, and this time, he felt a wave of affection and pure joy come from inside him at your words. "Now, be good and hump my leg, will you?

Quickly, his arms came around your extended leg in a tight grip, and he drew you as close as possible to get himself off, rubbing himself at a hard, grinding pace.

He could feel his resolve weakening as the friction against his cock felt so amazing, each thrust bringing him closer and closer.

He wanted to cum so bad, would you let him cum? Please?

He thought it was just the omega chanting that in his head, but after a moment he felt his lips moving, begging to cum.

"Stop moving."

He let out a wail as he immediately stopped at your commands.

He wanted so badly for his hips to keep moving, he was so close when you made him stop and he wanted to scream, but there was something in him that so desperately wanted to be good for you.

No no no! He needed to stop thinking like this, he’s the fucking demon king, and he wasn’t going to break. “I’ll- ill fucking k-kill you!”

His voice came across as much weaker than he wanted, but he got his point across. He had just about three seconds to enjoy fighting back before you spoke.

“What did you say to me, Omega?”

Fuck. Fuck fuck no no no no no.

He felt tears welling in his eyes, he could hear the disappointment in your voice, and it made him hate himself, why would he say that to you?

His omega side felt like it was in pain at your words he didn’t mean it please! “Please m…‘msorry! I didn’t- didn’t mean it, please!”

Hell, one moment he wanted to murder you in cold blood, and the next, all he wanted was to nest with you.

Fuck, he needed to figure this out fast because he couldn’t do both.

So, he tried to make the best out of the shitty situation.

If you were going to command him to be your omega, he would, but just for the night. Once he wasn’t stupidly needy anymore, he would murder you and carry on like nothing happened.

So he gave in.

Kneeling at your feet, he gazed up into your eyes with a desperation, he needed you to fuck him, gods please.

“Poor thing needs to be full? I bet you feel so empty in your wet hole, don’t you?”

He nodded quickly, he could feel his ass clenching at your words, slick coating his pants.

“Alpha…Alpha please…I need you to fuck me….”

“Aww, poor little omega. I suppose I’ll have to fill you, won’t I?”

You yanked him up, enjoying his cute gasp as you turned him around and bent him over, arms holding him against the brick.

Unceremoniously pulling down his pants, you found nothing underneath, except for a considerable amount of wetness coming from his hole.

“You’re so wet for me, aren’t you? You were waiting in this alley for the first alpha to come your way. You’re nothing more than a street whore.”

“Yes yes yesss, you’re my alpha, mine mine mine!” Muzan was pressing back into you, practically grinding on you with need as you removed your pants as well.

With all the slick pouring out of him, and the way his hole kept opening and closing, you decided you didn’t need much prep, quickly thrusting in a couple finger to test how much he could take.

Rubbing your length along his slick ass, you quickly thrusted in while yanking his hair back, and reveled in his surprised scream, the pain and pleasure all hammering into one point as he took your cock, groaning with how full he felt.

With just the entering of your big length, he came, back arching and eyes rolling back as he felt himself jerked back and forth by your pace.

All the while, he’s mumbling how he’s your omega, he belongs to you, and please knot him, he’s been good for you,

and you smile at his state, you’re fucking the actual demon king, and you should probably be scared for you life in the morning, but you can’t bring yourself to care with the tightness of his ass and his lovely groans, and you decide to go ahead and mark him.

Leaning forward quickly, you bit into the part of his neck, and Muzan moaning even louder, and you knew he’d be furious but you had to!

And as he came once more that the thought of you claiming him, he collapsed into you.

“You’re done already? Oh no, we’ve just begun.”

Poor Muzan will wake up sore all over with a new mate that he won’t be able to get rid of.

of course, maybe he’ll just kill you…

but with your mark on his neck, you highly doubt it.

~~~ hehehehhehehe I hope you enjoyed!

happy Halloween!!!!!!!

#happy halloweeeeeeen #kinktober #dom reader #dom reader smut #sub character smut #smut #demon slayer #kinktober 2023 #muzan kibutsuji #sub muzan #Sub Muzan kibutsuji #Reader x muzan

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shiorimakibawrites · 3 months

Text

The Accident (Part I of Happy Little Accident)

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem! Reader Word Count: 7, 368 Summary: You tripped in the elevator and covered your neighbor in paint. Your ridiculously hot neighbor that you have an enormous crush on. Warning(s): Anxiety, Female Gaze, Referenced Sex, Referenced Character Death, Reference to assumed Attempted Murder, Thoughts about sex Happy Little Accident Masterlist My Masterlist Tag List: @loves0phelia

Please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list.

The Accident

You were painting in Central Park when your phone rang. You let out an irritated huff as you fished your phone out of your apron’s pocket and looked at the caller ID. Abby, your boss at the Daily Grind. It was tempting to ignore the call, pretend like you had forgotten your phone. Very tempting. It was a lovely spring day, one you would much rather spend painting than working. But in the end the knowledge that Abby wasn’t prone to bothering her employees during their off hours without a good reason had you accepting the call.

“Hello?”

“Hi,” Abby said, sounding apologetic. “Can you cover for the afternoon shift today? Peter is in the hospital.”

“The hospital?!” you repeated, feeling immediately concerned. “What happened? Is he okay?”

Peter was one of the cafe’s newer employees. You didn’t know him very well yet but he seemed like a nice kid. If a little absentminded, given how often he arrived for his shift at a rush. And possibly even more clumsy than you are since you had often seen him with bruises which he claimed were the results of tripping over things.

Assuming he wasn’t lying about how he had gotten hurt. Which you thought that he was . . . some of those injuries didn’t look like they had came from a fall . . . It worried you. It worried others at the cafe too. Abby wasn’t usually so forgiving of such frequent tardiness and absences.

“He got hit by a car. Claims that he’s only got minor injuries but the hospital doesn’t want to discharge him without running some tests first. So can you come in today?”

You suppressed the urge to sigh. You didn’t want to sent the wrong message. Because you weren’t actually annoyed with Abby or Peter but the situation. These things happen. Sometimes people got hurt or got sick. And when they did, someone didn’t get their day off. Today was simply your turn.

And well . . . it wasn’t like you couldn’t use the money.

“I’ll be there.”

“Thanks! You’re a lifesaver!”

You ended the call and slipped your phone back into your apron before starting to gather up your things. Your newly acquired shift started at three. It was only a little after noon, plenty of time to get back to your apartment and get ready, but you didn’t like rush. Rushing tended to make you even more of a klutz.

You swirled the used brushes in the water jar, trying to get as much paint off of your brushes before rolling them in a small towel. A second towel, already stained with old paint, was used to wrap up your palette. The paint was thrown back into their carrying box. Which was technically a small tackle box but you had repurposed it for art supplies. The box went into the bottom of your tote bag along with the water jar, double checking that lid was screwed on tightly. You didn’t need to ruin another sketchbook. You squeezed your current sketchbook behind the tackle box. Next went your pencil case, followed by the towels and their respective cargo. Now the only thing left was your painting and the portable easel.

You removed the painting from the easel, careful to avoid the spots where the paint had spilled over onto the tacking edge. Your fingers already had enough paint on them. The painting was propped against a tree, fingers crossed for two things. One that the wind wouldn’t pick up and send your painting flying. And two, a police officer wouldn’t start yelling at you for it. You didn’t think using the tree as a momentary support while you packed up violated any park rules but you weren’t entirely sure. You had read the park rules but they were written like a legal document . . . which it probably was . . . but that made you feel like you probably weren’t understanding it right. After all, you weren’t a lawyer.

Luck seemed to be with you. You were able to get easel broken down and put away without incident. You swung your bag into your shoulder before picking up your painting. After making sure you had a good grip on the stretcher and the tacking edge, you took a quick look around to make sure you weren’t forgetting anything. Then you started making your way home.

Your lucky streak continued. You didn’t drop anything. No one dumped into the wet canvas or you while you were walking. The subway was busy as usual but not packed to the gills. Your feet resisted the urge to get tangled up in some random piece of debris. Or your own feet. Or the absolutely nothing that you somehow managed to trip over sometimes . . .

In hindsight, you should have realized that it was too good to last.

Things began to go awry when you were waiting for the elevator to arrive. You looked down and saw a tube of paint in your aprons’ pockets instead of the tackle box where it belonged. Normally, you’d shrug and try to remember to put it away later but it looked like the cap hadn’t been screwed back on correctly. Your frown deepened after you transferred your painting to one hand and realized that the cap was loose. Loose enough that it was a minor miracle that it hadn’t fallen off somewhere between the park and here . . . you hoped the paint hadn’t gotten dried out . . .

You heard the elevator dings its arrival as you pulled the paint out of your pocket. Trying to one-handedly shift the tube so its cap could be gripped between your fingers and twisted close, you didn’t look when you heard the elevator door slide open. You just moved forward. And immediately tripped over . . . something . . . you had no idea what.

You just knew that you were falling, that you had lost your grip on your painting as your hands instinctively rose to protect your head from the oncoming impact. An impact that never came. Someone caught you before you could hit the floor. Unfortunately the hand holding the paint had squeezed down, spraying paint on yourself and the chest of your rescuer.

It was like a train wreck. You didn’t want to look but you always couldn’t tear your eyes away from it. You stared in horror the giant splash in the middle, the magenta color of the paint shockingly bright against the light gray suit, white dress shirt, and blue tie . . . Your eyes darted to the array of smaller droplets that radiated outward like shrapnel . . . you raised your eyes with the growing dread. Because you recognized that suit and tie, that broad chest . . .

Sure enough, when you looked up, you were greeted with the very surprised face of Matt Murdock. You felt your heart sink. Of course it was Matt. It couldn’t have been someone else. Anyone else. Preferably a random stranger that you would never see again. But no . . . it had to be your neighbor. It had to the man you had developed an enormous crush on.

Your face felt like it was on fire. You wanted the earth to open up and swallow you. You wanted to cry. Matt returning your feelings had always been a long shot . . . but now? There was no chance. You had turned out of his nice suits into a terrible Jackson Pollock . . . you were going to be lucky if he ever talked to you again . . .

You don’t know when you started apologizing. One minute, you were frozen in humiliated shock, the next increasingly frantic words started spilling out of your mouth. What words you couldn’t say. You couldn’t hear anything past your heart pounding in your ears . . .

A hand cupping your cheek was so startling that it immediately pierced the panic clouding your mind. Big, warm hand . . . you blinked and realized that someone was speaking to you. A familiar deep, soft-spoken voice . . .

“. . . shh, shh, sweetheart, it’s okay . . .”

Sweetheart?! You would hardly believe your own ears. But that was definitely Matt’s voice, his face that you were looking at, and those oh-so-kissable lips were moving . . .

This wasn’t the first time that Matt had called you sweetheart. He had been doing that since the first time you meet. If literally running into someone counts as meeting them. You would like to say no but it wasn’t like your second encounter with your then new neighbor had gone much better. You weren’t always a klutz around him but your bouts of clumsiness did occurred around him with embarrassing regularity.

And provided he was nearby when it happened, Matt always caught you when you started falling . . . so finding yourself in his arms also happened on a regular basis.

This had some upsides. For one, it gave you an appreciation for how much muscle must be hiding under those suits of his. Because he never had any trouble catching you or helping you get back onto your own feet. There was something very hot about the way he could lift you up like you weighted nothing. For another, he is very warm. Which had been especially nice during the recent autumn and winter months. And he smelled good. Like plain soap, ink, paper, and something woodsy like sandalwood with fainter notes of leather, cooper, and something else familiar but that you couldn’t quite remember what it was or where you had smelled it.

On the downside, you were never in his arms for very long. Certainly not long enough to really enjoy being held by those strong arms. He’d catch you, make sure you were steady on your feet again, then his arms would slide away and he stepped back. Taking all of his warmth and good smells with him. Which was always a little disappointing even if you did appreciated that he didn’t assume that he had permission to hold you longer than was absolutely necessary. And that he didn’t use those moments as an excuse to get handsy. Which you knew some people would have.

Further on the downside, being in his arms for any length of time made it very hard to pretend that he didn’t get you all hot and bothered. That having his warm breath brush against your neck and ear when he said something like ‘Careful, sweetheart’ didn’t make the skin there prickle and the rest of you shudder. Or, last week, when your shirt had gotten ridden up, that feeling those callused fingers against your bare skin didn’t make you shiver. Or the absolute worst, when you had to act like you hadn’t just been touching yourself while fantasizing about him, that you hadn’t just been moaning his name, that being in his arms hadn’t renewed the heat between your legs . . .

Those moments, it was really difficult to stop yourself from doing something crazy. Like ask him if you can find out if those pouty lips are soft as they looked . . . or if how much of that beautiful ass you could fit in your hands . . .

You suppressed the urge to groan. Serena, your best friend in the world, was right. You needed to get laid. Because even at the most embarrassing moments of your life, when you were half-considering changing your name and moving somewhere far away, you still couldn’t keep your mind out of the gutter.

Your imagination was out of control. It kept trying to convince you of the wildest things. Like that there was something more to the way his fingers had rubbed that little sliver of bare skin last week than just some mild curiosity when his hands didn’t encounter the expected shirt material. Or those tightening grips on your waist was anything other than making sure he wasn’t about to drop you. Those moments when his voice went deeper and huskier weren’t due to attraction but Matt was obviously coming down with a cold or something.

You ignored the grumbling inner voice that pointed out, aside from when he had the misfortune to get stuck in the elevator with that guy from the third floor who smelled like he bathed in cheap cologne, you had yet to see Matt so much as sneeze. Or that none of those moments had overlapped with the times Matt had looked ill – tired and moving like his body ached.

You weren’t going to get your hopes up. Matt was way out of your league. So far out that you weren’t even playing the same sport. He was incredibly good-looking, easily one of the most handsome men you had ever meet. You were the textbook definition of Plain Jane. Not ugly but not beautiful either. He was confident, outgoing, and charming. You were anxious, shy, and awkward. He was a lawyer with a successful law firm. You were an artist whose work didn’t sell well enough to make a living off of it. Hence the waitress/barista job at the Daily Grind.

Maybe not the most sensible job choice for a shy klutz but there were only so many options for someone with an art degree. Plus you had been working there since college and Abby had displayed remarkable patience for your clumsiness (and the periodic broken dishes that went with it). Mostly because you were otherwise reliable. And while you would never enjoy making small talk with strangers, you could do with a smile. It helped the majority of the regulars were nice . . .

“Sweetheart?”

Any blood that managed to drain out of your cheeks immediately flooded back. You were really batting a thousand today. First you spray him with paint, then you babble incoherently at him, then you stand there like a moron ignoring him for god only knew how long. If Matt didn’t already think you were awkward and weird, he certainly did now.

“Sorry,” you said, not sure of what to say.

He smiled at you. That sweet one that seemed . . . .dare you say it? . . . fond? Which did nothing to diminish the flush in your face. Neither did the little circles his thumb was rubbing into your right cheek or the reassuring squeeze from the hand at your waist.

He’s just trying to keep me calm, you told yourself sternly. It didn’t mean anything. He just didn’t need you panicking again. Lawyers were busy people. He had probably had things to do and didn’t want to waste anymore time on you.

“And to answer your earlier question, no, I’m not going to sue you.”

You had actually said that? Out loud? You closed your eyes and let out a low groan. Everytime you think this situation couldn’t get more embarrassing . . . that idea of moving some remote mountain which hopefully had no insanely hot lawyers living on it was sounding better and better. The only thing thing that would have been worse was if your word-vomit had decided to detail just how attractive you found him. Then, in addition to everything else today, you’d have to listen to him say ‘I’m flattered but . . .’ while your heart shattered into a million pieces . . .

“Sorry,” you repeated. Because what else you could you say to something like that?

“No need to apologize again, sweetheart,” he said as his hand slide off of your face before joining its fellow in helping you get back on your own feet. Then, as usual, his arms pulled away entirely and he took a small step back. As usual, you told yourself that you weren’t disappointed or felt colder. Both were a lie.

“It was an accident,” he continued. “You said you were sorry. No harm done.”

You couldn’t stop your eyes from flickering around his suit. The mess hadn’t miraculously disappeared. It was still here.

“No harm?” you repeated. “You’ve got magenta splattered all over your suit!”

“Which one is magenta?”

“What?”

“I don’t think I remember what magenta looks like,” Matt said, sounding thoughtful. “Can you describe it for me?”

“Er . . . pink?” you said, trying to think of how to describe it. “This particular shade is darker than bubblegum, more purplish-red? Like some plums just under the skin or a pomegranate?”

“Sounds pretty,” he said. “Foggy has been telling me that I need to wear more color.”

“I think he probably meant new clothes that were different colors, not paint splattered on your existing clothes,” you said slowly, unsure of what to make of this conversation. It was not turning out at all like you would have expected it to.

He grinned. “Most likely but he never actually said clothes. Just more color. He knows better than to leave the terms of a contract that vague.”

While you didn’t know Foggy Nelson very well, you had the feeling he would not be impressed. You had also seem him and Matt needling each other at Josie’s often enough to picture the irritated look he would level at his partner if he returned to work looking like this and tried to make that argument. The image was so absurd that you had to giggle.

“Not sure that is a winning argument, Mr. Murdock,” you said,

“Sure it is,” he said. “Any ambiguity in a contract favors the party that didn’t write it. Foggy wrote the contract without defining his terms. So I am free to interpret those terms as anyone might reasonably expect them to mean.”

Which only made you giggle even harder. He was being so silly. “It’s not very professional?”

“Regretfully, I have to agree,” he said, sounding almost like he genuinely disappointed about that. Provided you couldn’t see the cheeky grin on his face. “Will I need anything special to remove the paint?”

“No,” you said, silently thanking Past You for choosing to work with acrylics today instead of oils. The faded spots the turpentine would leave would be less noticeable than magenta but still probably not something he wanted. Also even the low-odor version didn’t smell good. You didn’t know if there was any truth to that whole ‘blind people’s other senses get stronger’ thing but real or not, Matt seemed to have a pretty sensitive nose. “Acrylics are water-based. As long as it is still wet, warm water and soap is enough.”

“See? No harm done,” he said, giving that flirty smile that always made your heart go pitter-patter. Even when you tried to tell yourself that it didn’t mean anything. Matt was a charming guy who flirted a little with everyone. You had seem him get a little flirty with Mrs. Gonzales, the third resident of the sixth floor. Who was, as she pointedly reminded him, old enough to be his grandmother and scolded him for shameless flattery. She had rolled her eyes a little when he retorted the truth wasn’t flattery but did seem pleased. Pleased enough to make him tamales. Which honestly made you a little jealous. The tamales you had bought from her at during the holidays had been really good . . .

Serena thought Matt wasn’t flirting with you just to flirt. That he actually liked you. But she was your best friend. It was her job to believe that you were wonderful and agree that the hot guy you had a crush on was into you. And if it turned out that he wasn’t . . . well, then he was an idiot wasn’t worth your time. You wanted to believe her . . . you wanted that to true so badly . . .

But you had seen the women Matt used to bring home. And the ones who flirted with him at Josie’s. Beautiful, self-assured women with successful careers. They were everything that you weren’t. Granted, you hadn’t seen one of his paramours leaving or arriving at the building for a while. And the only ones you had seen him leaving Josie’s with lately were his friends.

Or you. Which you refused to read anything into either. Matt just didn’t think you walking home alone at night was safe. And it wasn’t. The Kitchen might have Daredevil, its guardian in red leather, but he couldn’t be everywhere. Couldn’t save everyone through if the rumors were to be believed, it certainly seemed like he tried.

Regardless of his reason, you always ended up agreeing because you were too weak to say no to spending just a little more time with him. And it wasn’t like you were making him go out of his way since you both lived in the same building . . .

The point was that Matt would the same thing for anyone. Even someone who really didn’t need it. Like Jessica Jones. Through he claimed that was just to save himself or Foggy from needing to make another late-night trip to the police station because she had punched some creep into a wall. While he agreed that yes, they deserved it for treating someone like that but the police didn’t see that way, Jessica . . .

“As long as it’s still wet,” you repeated. “It’s harder to remove once its’ dry.”

“How does that take?”

“About half an hour.”

“Good thing I’m so close to home then.” Then he seemed to hesitate. “Can I ask you for a favor?”

“Absolutely,” you said, cringing a little at how eager you sounded. But you had gotten paint all over him. A favor was the least you could do.

“Can you help me get this cleaned up?” he said, gesturing toward the paint. He gave you a self-deprecating smile. “Otherwise I might miss a spot.”

“I can do that,” you said. You had been intending to offer help anyway. You had made the mess. You should help clean it up.

He frowned suddenly, his head tilting to one side. “Are you sure? I’m not keeping you from anything?”

“No,” you said. “I don’t need to be at work until three and it’s . . .”

You tried to check the time on your watch but it had a smear of paint across the face. Unfortunately the hands were hidden by said smear of paint. “Probably not three.”

Matt’s lips twitched. “Problem with your watch?”

“Paint is hiding the hands.”

He gave an amused grin as he ran his fingers around the edge of his watch. “The downside of wearing non-tactile watches. It’s a quarter til one.”

“Plenty of time,” you said. And even if it wasn’t . . . Abby was a reasonable person. She would completely understand not leaving any neighbor, let alone your blind neighbor, to clean this up.

He smiled before reaching down to pick up his fallen cane. You felt your face get warm again. Both because you just realized what you had gotten tripped over (which made you feel like a jerk) and because that action had pulled those trousers taut over his ass (which made you feel . . . other things). But you couldn’t stop yourself from looking. Not when you had a front row seat to one of the best asses in America. Possibly the world.

Matt couldn’t possibly know that you were checking out his ass but that smug little smirk that he flashed in your direction made you feel like he did. You averted your eyes and tried to find a distraction. Before thinking about his ass (or other body parts) got you worked up. More worked up. Which not only would be awkward but make you nervous and prone to say something embarrassing.

Then you remembered your painting. You had dropped it earlier. Where was . . . you let out a distressed groan as you picked it up. The good news was that your painting hadn’t landed paint-side down. Which had saved the mostly dried paint from smearing or chipping. The bad news that hadn’t escaped The Magenta. It didn’t get hit as nearly badly as Matt but there was still a giant splat right in the middle of the lake . . .

“What’s wrong?”

“There is a giant glob of magenta in the middle of the lake,” you said.

“The lake?”

“In my painting,” you said. “I was doing one of the Bow Bridge in Central Park.”

“Can you fix it?”

“Maybe,” you said, looking at the mess and trying to think of how to incorporate the random splatters into the image. You could remove some of it without taking off the underlying layers but not all of it. That would have to be incorporated somehow . . . Maybe a boat? Or a float . . . some of the smaller ones could be turned into leaves if you switched the setting to autumn just as the leaves were turning . . . or a flowering tree with pink blossoms . . .

“We don’t make mistakes, just happy little accidents,” you reminded your inner perfectionist.

“That sounds familiar.”

“It’s something Bob Ross said a lot,” you said. “He was–”

“That guy on PBS who painted the landscapes?” Matt said. “Soft-spoken, sometimes had a squirrel in his pocket and talked about happy trees?”

“That’s the one,” you said. “The Joy of Painting. I watched it religiously as a kid. How about you?”

An odd little smile spread across Matt’s face. “Not often enough to qualify as religious but you could call us regular watchers. My dad wasn’t much of an art guy but he found the show relaxing . . . and it was quiet. I could turn it on in the morning without waking him up after he had worked late.”

He sounded nostalgic, like these were fond memories but also deeply sad. Then you remembered that Matt’s father was dead. Killed when he was a little boy. Which you only knew about because you had once given into temptation and googled Matt Murdock. Most of the search results had been about his law firm and the Castle trial but further down the page, articles about the accident that blinded him and his father’s death had also appeared. But by then, you had felt guilty enough about snooping into his life that you hadn’t read any those of articles beyond their headlines.

“Did you ever try to follow along?” you asked softly.

“A few times with the watercolors from my school supplies,” he said. “I was terrible at it but my dad hung up every picture on the fridge like it was the Mona Lisa.”

“Mine did that too,” you said. “My mom might still have a few of them tucked away with the baby pictures, waiting to embarrass me with them.”

He chuckled. “Did you ever fall asleep watching the show?”

You laughed. “Yes. Usually after I had stayed up too late reading.”

“Same,” he said, then gestured to the control panel. “Shall we go up?”

“Yes, we shall,” you said, a little amazed at how well this was going, despite the mishap. And that the elevator had remained here at the ground floor for this long. Probably it was the middle of the day and therefore most of the other tenants were either at work or school right now. As the elevator rose, you tried to think of something to talk about. You didn’t mind quiet but your earlier anxiety about his reaction had been replaced by your more usual nerves at being around the man you had spent almost half a year pining over.

Nervous You tended to be a chatterbox with chronic foot-in-mouth disease. Nervous You might blurt out that you liked him. Might detail how you wanted to go on dates, snuggle on the couch, hold hands while you took long walks, call each other by cliché nicknames like honey or dear. Basically be one of those disgustingly adorable couples . . . And behind closed doors, mind-blowing sex. The kind of sex that would leave you walking funny with a big smile on your face . . .

That thought alone made your cheeks warm. Among other places. Maybe work? Work should be a safe enough topic. Nothing naughty about work . . .

“What brings you home this early?” you asked, injecting as much cheer as possible in your voice to disguise your nerves. “Does no one need lawyering today?”

He chuckled. “No, we still have plenty of people who needed lawyering. I just forget my phone this morning and this was the first chance I’ve had to retrieve it.”

You hummed in acknowledgment as the elevator dinged your arrival to the sixth floor. The doors slide open and you walked out. Or rather you tried. But apparently you just had no luck with elevators today because you managed to slip on nothing. For the second time today, you started to fall. Only backwards this time.

And despite what happened the last time, Matt still caught you.

“Sorry,” you said, feeling the earlier flush to your cheeks deepen.

“No need to apologize, sweetheart,” he said. “I like having a beautiful girl in my arms.”

Which only made the warmth in your face start to spread down your neck. Even if he didn’t meant it, it was nice to be told that you were beautiful. You couldn’t help liking it. You did your best to ignore the nasty voice in your head – the one that sounded a lot like those awful girls in high school who had bullied you – saying how would Matt even know that you were beautiful or not . . . he was blind . . .

Your more optimistic side – which sounded like Serena – pointed out that for obvious reasons, that Matt was unlikely to find someone attractive based solely on their appearance . . . so maybe he really did find you beautiful . . .

You blamed those pernicious thoughts for making you feel like there was hint of hesitation, of reluctance, in Matt’s hands as they slide back off of your waist once you were standing upright again. But not matter how many times you told yourself that it was just your overactive imagination . . . part of you couldn’t help but hope.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Matt said as you followed him into his apartment. While he disappeared down a hallway, you propped your unfinished painting against a wall before slipping your tote off your shoulder with a sigh of relief. It wasn’t very heavy but those almost falls had jerked it and its contains around, making the straps dig into your shoulder. After sitting down the tote, you prodded the area. It was a little sore but it lacked the tenderness you associated with oncoming bruises.

You walked toward the kitchen and looked around, curious. In some respects, his apartment was a lot like yours. Both displayed the buildings’ previous life as factory in the exposed brick, scuffed hardwood floors, and visible HVAC and pipes. Both had large windows that let in a lot of natural light if even the old glass was a little wavy or different colored. Both had galley-style kitchens and generally open floor plan. Both of you seemed to have opted for a mismatched collection of secondhand furniture in either earth tones or neutral colors. But that was where the similarities ended.

The first and most noticeable difference was size. His was a lot bigger than yours. Which honestly you had expected, knowing very well that your side of the sixth floor had been turned into two units whereas his was left as one. Yours didn’t have access to the roof but in all honesty, you were fine with that. You weren’t afraid of high places in and of themselves but you were afraid of falling from high places. The outside of your windows wasn’t dominated by The Billboard. Which even during the day looked rather bright.

Matt’s apartment struck you as unfinished, like there was something missing but it took you a moment to figure out what. There was nothing decorative. The walls were bare and furniture were bare. It was sharp contrast to your place where the walls had been turned into a gallery for your unsold paintings and the furniture was festooned with the efforts of Serena’s knitting or your embroidery. You wondered if this was due to preference (Matt was simply a minimalist who considered decorative items to be annoying clutter) or to circumstance (Matt hadn’t found anything that he liked yet).

Another difference was the level of tidiness. You weren’t outright messy. You cleaned up after yourself. But there was always a certain amount of controlled chaos. For example, you were just as likely to find your pincushion and scissors on the kitchen table as in the sewing bag where they belonged. Or how your books often ended up stacked on the floor by your reading chair instead of being put back on the bookshelf.

Matt’s place, by contrast, looked very well organized. Everything obviously had a place and was always returned to its spot when not in use. Which made sense when you thought about it. No one wanted to go on a scavenger hunt every time they needed something. And given how busy Matt was, he also didn’t have time to be doing that.

Plus there were things that no one would want to get mixed up. Like grabbing the shampoo bottle when you wanted the mouthwash. Yes, there were other things that would clue him in before he inadvertently washed out his own mouth with soap. But, as your grandmother liked to say, an ounce of prevention was worth a pound of cure.

“Will any soap work?”

You jumped at a little at Matt’s voice. He sounded close. Much closer than you would have thought he could get to you without you noticing. Especially on these old hardwood floors which had so many places that creaked or groaned when stepped on.

“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s . . .” you started as you turned toward the sound of his voice. And promptly felt your intended words get tangled up in your throat. Your heart began to race as blood rushed back to your cheeks at the sight before you.

Your eyes greedily took in his broad shoulders, then down arms so thick that you doubted that you would be able to fully wrap your hand around it. Back up and across to the well-defined pectorals, then down through to sculpted abdominals until they disappeared into the waistband of his trousers. All covered in a skin that looked like it was as soft as satin.

You swallowed hard. You had known for a while that Matt had some muscle. He had saved you from your own clumsiness too often for you not to know that. But this . . . you had no idea he was hiding all this under those fancy suits of his . . . It was like someone had brought the statue of a Greek god or Michelangelo’s David to life . . . and then someone had apparently convinced him to put on pants. Whoever that idiot was should be fired . . . because if the rest of him looked this good . . .

“Sweetheart?”

Once again, you jumped at his voice. You raised your eyes up to his face. Your breath caught for the second time. Because Matt wasn’t wearing his dark glasses. You had never seen him without those glasses. Predictably, his eyes were just as pretty as the rest of him. Big, brown eyes sparkling with amusement and confidence. It matched that cocky little smirk he was sporting. The same one he had given you earlier. Only this time, you were positive that he knew that you were staring.

But it was so hard not to . . . he was so beautiful . . . it filled with you competing urges. The artist longed for your drawing pencils and a couple of hours to sketch. You weren’t sure you had the talent to fully capture his beauty but you would love to try. The woman, however, wanted him to fuck you. For him be inside you. Cock, fingers, tongue . . . your cunt didn’t care which. Any or all of them would do.

Watching that pink tongue dart out from between those oh-so-kissable lips before disappearing back inside his mouth did nothing to quell your arousal. Nor did the almost hungry look in his eyes. All it did was make you think about all things a man could do with his tongue if he was so inclined . . .

You dug your hands into your jeans to keep them to yourself. Silently you reminded yourself why you had to control the later impulse. First – Matt wasn’t your boyfriend. He was your neighbor and maybe a friend. Second – even if you were his lover and consented to having sex, neither of you had time today. He needed to go back to his office and you had to be the cafe at three. Abby would understand you being late because you were helping Matt clean up The Magenta. She would be far less sympathetic toward hanky-panky induced tardiness. So as much as you would like him to bend you over his kitchen table, you had to ignore that particular desire.

As for the artistic urge . . . since he didn’t seem to hate you for The Magenta, maybe he would agree to model for you? And you were friends of a sort. Friends could ask friends to model for them, right?

“L-liquid soap,” you said, doing your best to sound normal instead of incredibly turned on. “I-I found it easier to work with when cleaning up paint.”

Matt didn’t look like he was convinced by your non-existent acting skills. But he went along with the change of subject. Then gave you another heart attack by revealing that his shirt and tie were silk while his jacket was wool with a silk lining. You had no idea how to clean paint off of those without damaging them . . . isn’t stuff like that dry clean only?

The answer was yes and no. The shirt was made of a type of washable silk that he could launder at home – on the gentle cycle with mild soap. The suit and the tie, however, were both dry clean only. But Matt knew how to prevent stains from getting set in his fancy clothes and you knew how to handle paint. Between the two of you, you worked a plan that should get the paint off while preventing damage to his clothes.

Using an old gift card that you used as a painting tool as a scrapper, you removed the bulk of the paint from the tie and jacket while Matt used his bottle of liquid dish-soap and water to wash his shirt in the sink. Then, you dampened a white washcloth with lukewarm water, added a tiny amount of the soap, before dabbing the affected areas. Before dabbing again with a separate cloth that was just dampened with water, then carefully blotting with another washcloth that was completely dry.

You tried to keep your mind on the task in front of you but kept getting distracted. By his . . . everything. You wanted to trace every muscle with your fingers. Or your tongue. Either would be enjoyable. Or both. Both was good . . . the only thing that wasn’t making you press your thighs together in an effort to relieve the ache in your cunt were the scars.

Not because you thought his scars were ugly. The scars were like kintsugi. The healed but visible damage made the person more beautiful, not less. But because the scars worried you. It looked like someone had tried very hard to kill Matt.

You hadn’t realized that being a lawyer was so dangerous . . . but then, Nelson & Murdock had gone up against some powerful people. People like Fisk. Had Fisk or someone like him sent someone after Matt? You glanced at his hands. He had the same calluses on his knuckles as your ex who was a boxer. Did Matt know how to box? Was that how he had survived the obvious attempt on his life?

You were curious but realized that some of the answers you wanted might require a lengthy conversation. Which you didn’t have time for. Assuming Matt was even willing to answer those questions. He might not be. Which was fine. Trauma was rather personal and you didn’t really know each other.

You returned to your task. Despite your frequent distraction, soon the clothes were cleaned to the best of your ability. All three items were hung on hangers to dry in the case of the shirt or await a trip to the dry cleaners for the other two. Something that you offered to pay for.

“No need for you to do that, sweetheart. It’s about time for that suit to go to the cleaners anyway.”

“But it’s my mess,” you protested.

You didn’t win the argument. But it wasn’t a fair fight. First, he was a lawyer. He argued with people for a living. You painted or served food and drinks. Second, he still hadn’t put on a shirt. It was very distracting. And he knew it. His opposition in court was so lucky that he had to keep all his clothes on in the courtroom. Otherwise, they’d might never win.

“Stupid, sexy Murdock,” you muttered quietly under your breath as you washed your brushes and palette. Not quietly enough because he laughed.

“I’m sexy?” Matt asked. Warmth flooded your face. Judging by that cocky smirk, he knew the answer to that question. Yes, absolutely yes. But you were absolutely not going to say that.

“I plead the Fifth,” you said. Which only made him laugh harder.

He opened his mouth, probably to tease you some more, when his phone started ringing out, “Foggy, Foggy, Foggy.”

“Sorry, I’ve got to take this,” he said.

“Go ahead,” you said quickly.

He flashed you a smile before answering his phone with a “What’s up, Fogs?”

You put away your things while Matt talked to his partner. From the sound of it, he was explaining why retrieving his phone was taking so long. A check on your watch – now cleaned of paint – warned you that you really needed to leave now if you wanted to be ready for work on time. You swung your tote up onto your shoulder.

Then found yourself in a quandary. It was rude to interrupt someone while they were on the phone but it was also rude to leave without saying good-bye. But it wasn’t like you could go just wave good-bye.

“Matt?” you called out.

“Hang on Foggy,” he said, pulling the phone away from his ear. “Yes, sweetheart?”

“I’ve got to go,” you said. “I’ll see you later?”

“You’ll have to. I can’t.”

For a moment, that answer confused you. But only for a moment. Blind joke. Not the first one he had made around you. It wouldn’t be the last. He seemed rather fond of them. Well, it was his disability. It certainly wasn’t your place to tell him that he couldn’t make jokes about it if he wanted to.

Besides sometimes the looks on people’s faces when he made them were very funny.

“Left myself wide open for that one, didn’t I?” you said.

“Yep,” he said. He looked very pleased with himself. “But yes, I’ll see you later.”

That made you smile. “Bye, Matt.”

“Bye, sweetheart,” he said before returning to his phone call. You closed the door to his apartment as quietly as you could, then made you way across the hall toward your own apartment. Time get for work.

Step one – a cold shower.

Notes

There are portable easels that are designed to be collapsed down and easily carried. I have one. Some of them come with an attached box that is meant to carry paint, brushes, and whatever else you need but that type is more expensive (about 70 dollars on the cheaper end) than one that is just the easel (which is about 20). Reader has a limited art budget and those fifty bucks she didn’t spent on an easel can buy a lot of paint and canvas.

I’ve found that tackle boxes and tool boxes make great carrying cases for arts and crafts supplies. The divided trays are very useful if the creative thing you are doing involves a lot of little pieces or tools like beading or jewelry making.

Reader took the subway for part of her journey because, according to what I could find, getting from Hell’s Kitchen to Central Park via subway takes about 14 minutes while walking that same distance would take about 40 minutes. So the subway it was.

Magenta is, generally speaking, purplish red color. The shades vary between more pink, more red, or more purple. Even paint doesn’t always agree. I have one set on acrylic paints that labels a color as ‘light magenta’ while a different set calls the same color ‘magenta’ and third just says ‘pink.’

Jackson Pollock (1912 – 1956) was an American artist who was part of the abstract expressionist movement. He is best known for his ‘drip’ technique where he would pour or splash liquid house-paint with frenetic movement onto the canvas which was laying flat on the floor. In some ways, his work reminds me of acrylic pouring which looks very cool but also very messy.

I mean no disrespect to those with an art degree. I started off majoring in fine arts and part of me wishes that I had stuck with it despite the challenges. One of my professors recommended getting your masters if you were going to major in art simply because then you could get teaching jobs in many places.

That contract thing is true but I’m not a lawyer and have never taken Contracts 101. Always get your legal advice from actual lawyers.

Turpentine is used to clean paint brushes and other tools when using oil paint. A low odor version is highly recommended but remember to only use it in a well-ventilated place as the fumes are toxic. It is also very flammable. You can use it to get oil paint off of your skin but it is very drying and probably isn’t be safe to use on places like your face. The skin there easily absorbs things (which is the primary reason that make-up has go through FDA approval).

For the record, blind people don’t have better senses than everyone else. They just pay more attention to the information from their other senses provide, things that us sighted people tend to ignore. And arguably have more practice identifying different sounds, smells, etc than someone who largely ignores that input.

While I cannot say that this happens in NYC, as I have never lived there, where I grew up (American southwest) and where I live now (Florida), the grandmas and aunties in the Latin community make and sell tamales during the winter holiday season. Maybe for some extra spending money for said holidays. In my experience, they are always excellent. I almost don’t consider it Christmas without some tamales.

The reason Reader feels like a jerk for tripping over Matt’s cane is that messing with someone’s mobility aid and/or not giving them enough space to use it is a dick move.

The Bow Bridge is a bridge in Central Park. You have probably seen it before since it is pretty popular for movies and television. Probably because it looks perfect for your sappy romantic moments, dramatic love confession, meet-cutes, etc. It also helps that it looks just as nice surrounded by leafy trees as it does covered in snow.

Bob Ross (1942 – 1995) was an American painter who was the host of an instructional art show called The Joy of Painting, which aired from 1983 until 1994, on PBS (public broadcasting station) in the US but also in similar public stations around the world. You can find the episodes on YouTube.

According to the internet, you can spot clean wool, silk, and other such fabrics like how Reader does without damaging the fabric. But it was the internet so take that with a generous portion of salt.

Yes, I do use an old gift card when I paint. To make smallish straight lines, very handy for fences and rain effects. I cannot speak for every artist but my painting tools aren’t limited to brushes and painting knives.

Kintsugi (“golden joinery”) is the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery with lacquer that has been dusted or mixed with gold, silver, or platinum. The point is not to hide the damage but highlight it, to treat the breakage and repair as simply part of the object’s history. And that having such a history makes it more valuable, not less.

#fan fic #daredevil #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x fem! reader #matt murdock x you #happy little accident series

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sky-kiss · 5 months

Note

You want a sinning prompt, ill give you a sinning prompt *cough*Ascendedform!usingyoutomakBloodofRaphaeltieflings*cough*

A/n: /checks the time Ok. It’s sin o’clock. I'm hiding everything under the cut. Because it's...well. You know.

___________

Ascended!Raphael x Reader 18+: Well, well, well, if it isn’t the consequences of your actions.

___________

"Look at you," Haarlep breathes the words against your ear, nose tweaked against your cheek. There's a scrape of teeth, and you shiver, screwing your eyes shut against the sensation. Sensitive, so sensitive. Every nerve in your body feels alive. They lick across to the corner of your mouth, turning your head to kiss you deeply. The incubus' tail curls around your thigh, urging your legs to fall apart for him. Fingers circle your clit, a lazy series of strokes meant to build you higher but never break. He chuckles, a mimicry of affection, as he kisses you again. "Such a pretty mess you make. Even Raphael couldn't fault my work."

You gasp, head lolling back against their shoulder. His right arm is a vice holding you back against his chest. The warmth of them helps. Haarlep smells like summer fires and vetiver, fresh and burning; it suits them. You're burning.

Their fingers dip lower, pressing into you and scissoring. You whimper, and Haarlep swallows the sound, pushes their tongue into your mouth, and makes you taste, drink, and welcome him. The fever is almost unbearable. The incubus has stretched and stretched you. All you feel is empty.

"Good girl," they coo. Haarlep wipes your slick on your thigh. They smile against your skin. "So good for us. So ready. Say it, sweetling. Say you're ready."

"Please."

"Ah, ah, that," they nip the tip of your nose, "was not what I asked: are you ready, pet?"

"I'm ready. Gods, please!"

"Oh, darling," he shifts, dragging fingers down your sternum, your belly, down to the apex of your thighs. "After tonight, not one of your gods will have you. All ours. Always." Haarlep hums, leaning their head against yours. "Isn't that right, Raphael?"

Raphael waits, kneeling. The ascended fiend tilts its head to the side, tongue lolling from the center mouth. Its eyes burn with animal intelligence; part of it is weighing Haarlep's words, tasting them. Its wings fan out to the side, brushing the tile, braced for stability. The clawed hands rest on either side of the pair of you.

The beast noses your chest. Scents you. And purrs. You groan, shifting back against Haarlep, lifting your hips.

How lovely you'll look, he'd said, as conversational as he might have been over brunch, full of my seed. That's what you want, yes? To be good for me? Serve me?

You wanted it more than your next breath. The fiend tastes you first, its growl vibrating through your body. The heat makes you shift, panting, glancing over your shoulder for help. The flat of its tongue covers the whole of your cunt with flat pressure, warm and wet; Haarlep leads you in a lazy rock, cock still pressed against your ass. You clench at his thighs, searching for purchase, anything, as the fiend works itself up. The more it laps at you, the wetter you get. The better you taste. The more it wants. Up, and up, and up, and there has to be a breaking point, there has to be a ceiling, there has to, has to, has to…

Your back bows, thrusting into the creature's touch. There is enough of Raphael in there to delight in this naked affectation, and it howls its pleasure, tongue pressing inside your clenching hole. It's being filled with heat, stretched, and you can't help but fuck yourself onto it, welcoming more. You want him. You wish you could put into words how badly you want him.

You're lucky, you know, he'd breathed the words against your lips, skirt rucked up around your hips. His hand over your mouth to keep you quiet as he thrusts into you. I've chosen you, little mouse. My treasure…what pretty spawn you'll give me.

And, oh, it's too much. Too much, the head of its cock pressed to your soppy cunt. Haarlep spreads your legs wider, angles you, purring filth in your ear until you're grinding down, desperate. They want to see you speared on him, want to listen to you babble, want to watch you come and come. Raphael pushes, and you jolt, feeling your body finally relent.

You could never take all of him, but you take enough. It lowers its head, licks your cheek, and howls. It fucks without grace or concern, pulling you where it wants, its head thrown back, taking. In the back of your mind, you're vaguely aware of Haarlep laughing, lifting your hips just enough to let the fiend slide deeper. Air is an afterthought. You're screaming, and it's sharp, everything: the heat, the pain, the pleasure. Sweat tracks down your body in lazy rivulets. You're coming apart, but your body won't stop. It's rocking with him, hungry. One of the fiend's hands snakes around your waist, jerking you away from the incubus and into it.

You belong to Raphael, his, his, and you shake, one hand tangling in your hair, one reaching out for Haarlep. He leans over you and kisses you just long enough to leave a fresh swell of intoxicating pleasure rocketing through your system. And then leaves you to the fiend.

You lose track. You're exhausted. It flips you onto your front, up on your knees, filling you again. You ache, but it's good. Its folded over you, panting, screaming, and you break again, clutching at its cock. And when Raphael finally comes, you want to sob; forehead pillowed on your arms—filled with him, full of him. Its spend drips down your thighs.

Fingers, oddly gently, card over your lower back and thighs. Raphael, your Raphael, leans over you, pressing a kiss to the small of your back. He gathers his seed with a chuckle, pushing it back into your cunt. You moan.

"Look at you," he mumbles. "So beautiful. Eternally mine."

#bg3 raphael #raphael x tav #raphael x reader #ascended fiend raphael #asks #my writing #/walks into the sea #bg3 smut

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blueicequeen19 · 1 year

Text

Locked Out

Warnings: dub-con, unprotected sex, mentions of sloppy seconds, unhinged JJ

I quickly slip into my apartment and flip the light on before locking the door behind me and toeing my shoes off. I drop my purse and keys on the entry table before getting a bottle of water from the fridge and heading to my bedroom. My thighs and pussy were still sore from all the activities tonight. Rafe hadn’t been easy on me. He was never satisfied until I was a fucked out mess. And I currently looked like one. I grimaced at my reflection in the mirror as I started to strip down to just my panties.

“Where have you been?” I jump, biting back a scream when I see JJ standing behind me in the doorway.

“How did you get in here?” I demanded, my heart threatening to burst in my chest.

“I had another key made.” JJ says, his expression hard as his eyes raked over my naked body. He no doubt saw the numerous hickies, the flush to my cheeks, and my ratty hair.

“You can’t be here.” I growl, looking around and quickly realizing my phone was in my purse.

“How was Rafe?” JJ asks, ignoring what I’d just said. I narrow my eyes at him.

“Are you following me now?” I grabbed a shirt from the bed but he snatches it from me, causing me to stumble back with a gasp. He advances on me, throwing the shirt behind him.

“I saw you. I saw you fucking him in his truck.” JJ snarls, reaching out and pinching my nipple hard. I cry out as I slap his hands away, my back meeting the wall.

“JJ—.” I whimper when he firmly grips my chin.

“You loved me. How could you do this to me? Screwing my worst enemy? That’s low even for you.” Tears fill my eyes as I look up at him, his expression unwavering even with his own tears threatening to fall.

“And despite the fact that I saw you ride him like some desperate whore.. I still want you. I still love you. I still need you.” My heart crumbles in my chest and a sob breaks free as the first tears start to fall down my cheeks.

“JJ, please.” I wrap my hand around his wrist, trying to loosen his hold on my chin but he doesn’t budge. He lets out a shaky breath, his thumb wiping away my tears.

“I don’t know what I have to do to prove to you that I’m the one for you.” His hand slips from my chin and into the back of my hair, jerking my head back. I push at his chest but he closes the space between us, his eyes raking down my naked body.

“I guess I’ll have to get rid of Cameron. It’s so easy to cut break lines. You ever tried to stop at the bottom of Tannyhill with no breaks? You’d end up in the ocean if no one hit you first.” His voice is low in warning and I sob, panic consuming me.

“JJ, please don’t. Please. I’ll do anything.” His hand finds my breast, squeezing and rolling my nipple between his fingers while he seems deep in thought.

“I might enjoy actually getting my hands on him more.” JJ licks his lips, pinching me harder.

“Bad muggings happen all the time.” I gasp, my body trembling in terror as he leans in and presses a kiss to my cheek.

“They’d never know it was me. Rafe Cameron has no shortage of enemies.”

“JJ—.”

“What about an OD? That would be the least surprising giving his history. Do you know how easy it is to score around here?” He turns my head again so I’m facing him, the tears flowing freely.

“I’ll do whatever you want.” I sob, leaning up on my toes and sealing my fate as I kiss him. He kisses me tenderly, like it’s the first time all over again, the grip in my hair finally loosening. My nipples ache from his torment and I whimper as he caresses them gently.

“This doesn’t work unless you want this too.” JJ rasps, turning me so my back is to the bed. I take a few tentative steps back until my calves brush the frame. I look up at him as he towers over me, taking a moment to appreciate how genuinely handsome he was. As if sensing where my mind is, he pulls off his ball cap and tosses it onto the floor then pulls his shirt over his head.

“Tell me you want this too.” JJ says, kicking his boots off then discarding his shorts. I gulp, trying to find the best way to sound convincing. I couldn’t let Rafe get hurt because of me. He was nice and a good lay but JJ had my heart. He was just a little broken sometimes.

“I do want this.” I whisper as his boxers come off next. He kneels before me, not tearing his gaze away as he pulls my panties down my legs. I shiver as his hands slide up and down my legs until he stands, palming my ass.

“Say it like you mean it.” JJ cups my face, waiting for me to answer.

“I want this with you. I want you, J.” I nod and he smile, leaning down to kiss me. We don’t break apart as he lowers us to the bed, his body coming down on top of mine. It’s not until his hand slips between my thighs that I freeze.

“What’s wrong?” He demands, sliding his hand up and down my slit. His fingers move lower until they find what I was afraid of. JJ’s eyes widen for a moment before his voice morphs with anger.

“He came inside you?” JJ bites out, taking his hand and sitting up while looking down at me.

“I’m sorry, J.” I mumble, clamping my legs shut. He shakes his head, his jaw clenched.

“You never let me do that. I never got to finish inside you.” JJ sneers, his jealousy getting the best of him. I take his arm pulling him back down onto his back.

“JJ, we were broken up. We’re not now.” I whisper, trying to sound more convincing than I felt. I really didn’t know this was going to happen. I straddle his waist and kiss him, trying to dissolve his anger.

“There’s only you, J. Just you.” I rasp against his lips, his hands tight on my hips as I guide him to my entrance. I sink down slowly, so slowly. His face twists in pleasure before he clenches his jaw, hands tightening on my hips.

“Make me believe that. Show me.”

#smutwarning #outer banks smut #jj maybank smut #jj maybank fic #jj maybank imagine #obx2 #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank x you #jj obx #rudy pankow #dark content #tw dark content #tw dubcon

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teamgreengalore · 4 months

Text

ALIGON:

REQUEST: Any chance you'd be up to do another Aligon story? Perhaps involving cock worship of some kind? In all the Aligon stories I've read I've yet to see anything about Alicent blowing Aegon that wasn't really just a throw away line of some sorts, except maybe one.

NSFW

Aegon groaned; the deep, intense pleasure at the erotic nature of the act had the Prince purring. His legs were spread out whilst the locks of bright hair of his fell into his face. “Fuck!” It was not long before his head was falling back as he shivered. The wet sucking sounds echoed around his royal chambers; noises he knew the guards outside his door were used to.

The familiar, sweet perfume of his mother brushed over him and those big eyes of his fluttered before he fought to control himself. His larger hands reached for his chair and tightened his grip as his body arched from the cushion if only for a moment. “Mother…..” The whisper of her name finally fell from his soft, plump lips.

Those big, brown eyes of hers locked onto him when he finally looked down. His stomach was slowly tightening in anticipation as her soft, pink tongue moved up and down his length. The drool escaping her had his fat cock twitching in delight. Oh, how he enjoyed seeing his prudish mother losing herself in the pleasure she seemingly got from taking him.

Gently, Aegon reached for a strand of her hair and placed it behind her ear. It was at that moment she finally took his hard, leaking cock into her hot mouth. He groaned at her warmth as her tongue continued its teasing; brushing over his veins that caused shivers down his spine. Still, his hand slowly moved into those thick locks of hers.

Alicent could only moan as her head slowly lowered; she knew Aegon enjoyed hearing her gag and that is exactly what she did. His cock twitched in her mouth as she began to suck; her tongue brushing over his leaking slit. The power she felt moved through her at keeping Aegon’s attention from the whores and in turn; keeping the shame from her daughter.

Her drool continued to escape her mouth as she bobbed her head. The act Viserys enjoyed from her was now equally being enjoyed by his son, she thought to herself as she watched Aegon slowly fall apart. Her delicate, soft hand slowly moved to the bottom of his length and gently began to stroke him. Aegon only groaned at the feel of her nails against him.

His hips buckled as a way of chasing his own pleasure when Alicent only pressed him into the chair; taking control of the situation as she always did. Aegon had no fight in him; not when her hot mouth engulfed him so well. The whores of the past held no candle to his mother’s soft touches or harsh ones. Aegon did not know what he favoured most.

Alicent only watched on; the low cut dress of hers one of his favourites. The silk material clinging to her curves as the swell of her breasts were enjoyed by him. Still, the Queen drooled over her son’s cock before her head was pushed down. Aegon’s impulsiveness took over as she gagged prettily around him, which only caused the Prince to moan without shame.

Those doe eyes of hers still stayed on Aegon as his pretty face screwed up in pleasure. His groans escaped him without pause now whilst his hand guided Alicent up and down his length. Her drool covered his fat cock as she moaned against him. The vibrations from her act caused goosebumps to move over his body.

“Am I bigger than him?” Aegon purred; malice in his words now as for a moment his mind flashed to his father. His grip in Alicent’s locked tightened as she gagged; her mouth being a warm home for him. Tears easily moved into her doe eyes as she kept still. His mother did not struggle, no matter what he did to her. One day, he would push her boundaries, the Prince thought to himself.

But for now, he would enjoy himself. “I know I am…when I first took you; your face said it all.” Aegon continued to taunt his mother as her bobbing picked up speed. The obscene, wet sounds echoed in the rooms once more and Aegon couldn’t stop the smirk tugging on his lips. His toes curled as the intense pleasure built inside him.

Her hands moved to his bare thighs as his naked body; one she had seen too many times for it to be normal relaxed on the chair. Her tongue moved up and down his length when Aegon finally allowed her control. His arms rested beside him whilst his head fell back. Aegon could hear his heart pounding in his ears.

Alicent’s hand returned to the base of his cock as she quickened her pace. Aegon’s groans continued as she sensually placed a soft kiss to his fat, leaking mushroom head. “Fuck! I bet your favourite son would be so ashamed of you.” Aegon groaned out; his jealousy as ever for anyone close to his mother shining through.

Alicent only hummed; her mind already softened as it did when she acted like this for her own son. Her own inner thighs were becoming soaked with her arousal as soft whimpers escaped her. Aegon only chuckled; his hands tightened on the arms of the chair whilst his mother took his fat cock inside her mouth again.

“Touch yourself.” Aegon finally whispered the order. The look on her face when her slender fingers brushed through her soaked folds were enough to push him over the edge. In instinct, his hand reached for the back of her head once more and pushed Alicent completely down. Her gagging was music to his ears.

Alicent could only moan as his cum flooded her mouth. Her thumb brushed over her clit as she shook but he kept her against his stomach. She tried to swallow just as Aegon always enjoyed but there was too much and was soon dripping down his length. The sight of his mother so dishevelled was one of his favourite sights.

That and her bare body, he thought to himself as her hot mouth cockwarmed him. His breathing was harsh as her tongue teased his length before she slowly leaned away. The wet, obscene sounds were now coming from her creamy pussy. The sight of her emerald skirts hiding her from his view had his cock twitching.

#aligon #greencest #request

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little-svt · 10 months

Text

GENDERNEUTRAL | FLUFF | ft. Uncle Minghao (always)

Wc: 1.4k+

Taglist: @pastel-princess-please @kiki-woo @fishsquishh

Baby you

Jun was not expecting to meet his little one on his way out the door, all ready for the gym. Duffel over his shoulder, he had one foot out the door when he’d called out to you for the last time. When he said goodbye before grabbing his things previously, he’d left you on the sofa. Snuggly as always, he let you know he’d be back in a few hours and not to wait up. Taking care of his body was important to his career, you knew that. But you got to thinking how sad you would be home all alone, especially when he was so busy with promotions and preparing for the next album. Maybe he’d have made it out before you noticed if he hadn’t forgotten his AirPods, quickly backtracking through the apartment to grab them. The way back however, it was him being grabbed by desperate hands, bunched up tightly.

“Daddy, I wan come too!”

Your teary eyes were just too much for his heart. And sure, he could have just said screw the gym so he could stay home and care for his baby. But his little one was a stubborn one, so insistent on tagging along, clinging close. Or so he told himself after giving in almost immediately while he dressed you in his sweats so you would look the part, even if the equipment wasn’t safe for a little baby to use.

The two of you didn’t have to travel far to get to the gym thankfully, he was sure you’d be falling asleep standing the longer both of you were away from the house. After checking in , he bought you a juice to keep you entertained. Seeing how excited you were to see all the pre and post workout goodies available for members, he barely managed to talk you out of getting the pretty pink pre-workout energy drink that definitely wouldn’t be good for his little one. (Not that it wouldn’t be cute to see you bouncing off the walls like the little klipspringer that you were).

The first part would be fun.

“Are you ready?”, Jun giggled, taking your juice and setting it on the floor next to him.

Ready? Ready for what? Did that mean you were gonna work out too?

“Are you watching? You look like a fish.”, he reached out to squish your cheeks once, referring to the way your eyes grew in size and the small ‘o’ that formed from your mouth, before stepping back.

Reaching down towards his feet, he began stretching, taking it slow to see if you’d join in. You always liked to do the things your daddy did. Kitty see, kitty do.

“Yah!”, he laughed, quickly catching his breath and standing back up before all the blood rushed to his head. It wasn’t your fault you were a little slow sometimes.

“Ahh!”, you yelped, bending over to do as he did.

“Okay..”, he sighed with a smile, stepping forward to help you stand up.

“Can you come down here with me?”, he asked after sitting on the ground in front of you and spreading out his legs.

Once you sat down he teased you again, helping you get into the right position to stretch with him. They weren’t exactly the stretches he needed to be doing today, but he was having fun ‘working out’ with his baby.

Making sure you were sat next to him where he could clearly see that you were safe and sound, sipping on your juice with his phone in your hand, he began on his sets. After moving from one machine to another, he couldn’t help but at least glance to check on you. There you were, playing all by your little self in this strange place. Suddenly, he felt as if he was neglecting you.

Jun sighed to himself, cleaning off the equipment. The gym was no place for a baby. He’d just have to take special care to make sure you were safe and cared for.

Crouching in front of you, he gently transferred the phone to his hand before pocketing it.

“Come here, baby. Wanna come hang out with Daddy or is the game more fun?”, he teased, brushing your hair behind your ear and kissing your head.

“Wanna come with Daddy! Can I??”, your eyes twinkled, presented with this curious opportunity. With just enough unsureness not to smother your excitement, you peeked at the scary equipment around you. Everything would be okay as long as you stayed with your Daddy, right?

“Only if you give daddy two - no - three kisses.” he grinned, tapping on his left cheek.

“Okay!”, you giggled.

“One for Daddy. Thank you, cutiepie.”, he counted, “Ooh, another? Thank you.”

Giggling, and sitting back on your feet, you covered your warm cheeks bashfully.

“Hey, you're not done!”, he chuckled, “One more, a big big smooch.”

You give him his last kiss, your playful laughter now echoing through the space. Picking you up on your feet, he shushed you, his own laughter almost matching yours. With you sitting next to him, giggly, teasing, counting his reps, he felt a lot better. Right next to him was where you belonged, where you’d be safe and happy.

“Seven…. Eight….”, the pause after ‘eight’ was a little long, making him pause his rep, his muscle twitching slightly in the flexed position as he looked at you with a smile.

“Nine! Ten…. ‘leven…”, and giggle or laugh as the two of you may, that was the extent of your three-year-old regressed knowledge.

That was alright with him. He could do multiple sets for you. That was until you started getting creative.

“One… two… three… goyangi”, and again, your impish smile spiraled into a fit of giggles.

Dropping the weights, he shook his head, breathing heavily through laughter at the sudden animal input.

“Goyangi??”

“Haohao, tell Daddy he is goyangi.”, you insisted, the phone centered between your little hands.

“Hao..?”, Jun questioned, glancing around, absolutely sure he’d put his phone in his pocket when he’d taken it from you. But, alas, sighed as you turned his phone screen toward him so he could see the FaceTime call that you’d started with Minghao.

“Ah, straighten your shoulder Jun Ge!”, Minghao instructed with a light giggle. Setting his phone up in front of him so he could be hands-free.

Drying his face and neck with his gym towel, Jun sat up on the bench with an eye roll and a smirk, and took the moment to sip some water.

“Giving up already? That’s okay. Y/n, would you like to come with Uncle Hao to the gym next time? Maybe you can teach your Daddy how to do it properly.”, Minghao grinned, taking the opportunity to take a quick swig from his drink as well.

“Where’s my drink??”, you pouted.

“Oh, you finished your juice, baby?”, Jun glanced around, picking up his water again, “Have some of Daddy’s, kitten.”

“Don’t want Daddy’s. Hao has juice. I want some. Hao can you bing me juice, pwease?”, you asked genuinely, tilting your head when they didn't respond immediately.

For a moment they really wondered if you couldn’t understand it would take longer for him to bring you juice than for Jun to just get you one of your own. Gathering his things, Jun pulled you up again but let you hold on to the phone.

“How about you tell him how much fun we had while we get you some juice? How’s that sound? Maybe we could get some ice cream too?”, he offered, knowing transitions were hardest for little ones, some sweets might make things a little easier.

“Wow, did you work out so much that you can eat ice cream?”, Minghao scoffed playfully.

“Daddy eats ice cream all the time!!”, you announced, thrilled to be part of the conversation.

“I do not. You shush before I turn you into ice cream.”

No one quite knew what that ominous threat meant exactly but it was enough to end that conversation. With the two of you headed home, the night coming to a close, Minghao said his goodbyes.

“Goodnight, kiddo.”

“What about me?”, Jun gasped, the call making it all the way to the shop.

“That was for you. Goodnight, y/n”, Minghao teased, ending the call before Jun WOULD argue further.

The walk home was almost too fast, Jun taking his time with getting you ready for bed to compensate. But he knew he couldn't hold off bedtime much longer. It was late and your yawns were coming in threes.

“You had fun with Daddy tonight, baby cakes??”, he asked, pulling your pajamas over your head.

“Uh-huh. Wanna go with goyangi every day”, you yawned, your ramblings nearly unintelligible.

“Oh, yeah?”, he asked with a smile, lifting you in his arms to carry you to bed, your sleepy stance, wobbling left, forward, right and back.

“Meow.”

‘Ah, again. My fault.”, he snickered lightly, pulling you into bed with him, close to his chest.

“Meow. Close your eyes, my sleepy kitty. We’ll go again another day.”

🧸Endnote: This has been in the works since he posted these photos honestly 😭 and it’s not a Jun fic if there’s no mention of our Hao so here we are. And I’m so not sorry about posting Junnie a lot lately because it’s been a long time coming 😏😚 and thank you so much again to my 🎬 anonie for doing some great editing to really make my ode to Junnie shine 🤭💖💖💖~ 🐶🐰🍓

🧸Masterlist🧸

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lunas-nargle · 7 months

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↳ fourteen

chapter fourteen of "meddle about" series brian o'connor x reader

xiv. feelings

*smut ~ oral (f)*

"Everything's falling apart." Y/n sobbed. Y/n's head laid on Mia's chest, feeling her sadness finally flush from her being. Everything she felt about Letty, Brian, Dom's situation, she felt everything finally leave her as she sobbed.

"It's not, honey." Mia kissed her cousin's head. "Everything's going to be just fine. Shhhh." Mia said, as Y/n hiccuped.

The youngest Toretto felt a sense of deja vu. She remember herself crying herself to sleep as she laid herself on her cousin's chest. She remember Y/n threading her hands soothingly through her hair, humming some lullaby they used to sing together.

"I need to go for a walk." Y/n said. She quickly grabbed a hoodie, pulling it over her head. Y/n was always good at this. Moving from one emotion to another. It gave most people whiplash by how fast she could do it.

"Y/n--" Mia sighed, feeling helpless, as Y/n left.

Y/n walked about a few blocks before going back. Walking at night wasn't for favorite, but she needed to leave for just a bit. All those memories, all those thoughts of life before, made her feel suffocated, lonely, helpless.

Y/n caught sight of Dom, Monty, and Brian in the garage, hanging over Dom's charger. Brian's eyes met hers. He could see the sadness and disappointment swimming in them. The sadness and disappointment he made. They held it for just a moment before she tucked her hands into her hoodie and walked into the house.

He quickly went after her, needing to make things right. He wanted her, needed her. He could hear her sniffles and pants of frustration as she made herself a cup of tea.

"Hey." he said softly, turning her towards him. He brushed his fingertips along her smooth cheek. His hand trailed to the back of her head, pulling her into a kiss.

She couldn't help but calm down. She felt everything leave her body, everything around her wasn't existent anymore, it was only her and him. She couldn't believe he was the thing she needed. The thing that screwed everything up, helped bring everything back together.

They pulled away, looking at each other with so much love an adoration. Y/n then wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling back into a kiss. This one a little more chilling, a little more hot.

Brian's hands wondered her body, exploring the person he's longed for for so long. His hands wondered down, lifting her up onto the counter, pushing anything that was in the way, as their tongues explored each other.

Y/n pulled his head back, making him look at her with concern. "Is everything okay?" he asked.

"Yeah." Y/n whispered, her eyes not leaving his face. "I just wanna move this to my room."

She gave him one more excited peck before hopping off the counter. She took his hand, leading him through the house and upstairs to her room.

As soon as they crossed the threshold, Brian's body was pushed against the door, Y/n's hands exploring it as she put her lips back onto his. Y/n helped push off his grey zip-up and shirt, leaving his top bare.

After a few moments of making out against the door, Brian softly pushed her back, leading her to her already messy bed.

Y/n fell back with a giggle, making Brian smile as he climb on top of her. He leaned down, kissing her neck softly.

"Brian," Y/n let out a soft moan, making his confidence and his dick grow.

"Shh." Brian said, pulling back just a moment. "Don't want anyone hearing us, right?"

"Don't stop, please." Y/n whispered.

"Wasn't planning on it, babe." Brian said, leaning back to help pull off her hoodie, t-shirt, and bra. "God, you're beautiful." he said, his lips going back to her skin. His head trailed down, stopping here and there to suck in hickeys.

He pulled back again to help pull off her jeans before going in and leaving marks on her thighs. Brian trailed up. Y/n placed a hand over her mouth as he placed a few kisses on her clothed clit. He then hooked a finger on underwear and pulled it down, leaving her completely naked.

"Is this okay?" Brian asked, his blue eyes trailing up her body before connecting with her eyes. "Can I continue?"

"Yes. Please."

Brian didn't need to be told again as he didn't waste a moment before going in. Y/n bit her lip, trying as hard as she could to not be loud as he licked and sucked her pussy.

Y/n tried dating a few times, and even hooked up with a few but nobody could ever compare to Brian. The feeling he gave her as he went down on her has never ever surfaced when she was with anyone else.

Soon, Y/n felt a warm feeling pool in her stomach as her thighs started to shake. Brian groaned as he felt her thighs clench around his head. The vibrations of his mouth, sent her over the edge. Y/n bit her lip hard, on the brink of breaking skin, making sure she didn't make any noises to attract anyone in the house. She let out a shaky sigh, feeling herself calm down, as Brian kissed back up her body until meeting her lips once more.

"Is it your turn now?" Y/n asked, giving him a smile, as she trailed her hand down his naked torso.

"Not tonight, baby, I just wanna focus on you." he said, giving her a kiss behind her ear, as he unbuckled his belt.

Monty and Mia were already saying their goodbyes to Dom when Y/n and Brian made it outside.

"How do you say good-bye to your only brother?" Mia said.

"You don't." Dom answered. Mia nodded slightly. "Come here."

Dom pulled Mia into a hug. He gave her temple a kiss as Brian wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her into his side. Once they pulled away, Dom looked over Mia's shoulder.

"Come here." He opened his arms, welcoming Y/n into them. She smiled walking out of Brian's arms and into her cousin's. He kissed the side of her head, just like Mia.

Once they said their finally goodbyes, Brian and Dom got into their cars before speeding away.

#brian o'conner #brian oconner x reader #fast and furious #fast and furious x reader

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beeslibrarycorner · 2 years

Text

Let Me Hold You

Peter Ballard x Reader

Word count: 692

Warnings: NONE

Plot: Peter helps reader sleep when your anxious

Request Hey bee 🐝 I really like your sleeping fics and is it alright if we can get another one?

Your anxiety was at an all time high, nothing felt right as you paced around your office. You were anxious, you felt stuck like you couldn't fix anything and that irritated you. One of your coworkers screwed up the charts for new book shipments, causing you and your boss to scramble to get a new file sent in.

When Peter saw you pacing around in your office it was around 9:30, he felt concerned for you. “Baby” he said gently leaning against the doorway as you turned around and stopped all movement.

“Yes peter” you said shoulders tense and legs aching from all the movement. “Honey I think it's time we get you ready for bed, you can stress about this tomorrow.” he says walking into the office and sitting on the plush couch. Your apartment was quiet and it wasn't too hot or too cold, it was comfortable.

You purse your lips together and shook your head, Peter raised an eyebrow at you. You were in your pjs already and your teeth were brushed so you don't have to worry about getting ready for bed. “Peter, don't worry about me, I have to fix the mess Eileen made at work.” You explained crossing your arms.

“But you can fix it tomorrow, you have so much time.” he said, opening his arms so you can sit in his lap. You had a feeling he had a plan, use his powers and get you to fall asleep. “Can you sit in my lap so I can hold you, I miss my girl” he said with a pout forming on his face.

You took a step towards him, but then you felt a force push you the rest of the way until you were between his legs. He grabbed your hips and placed you on his lap, hugging you close to him and kissing the crown of your head. You noticed his right hand subtly moving up your body while his left arm was wrapped around your waist.

“Peter no” you said when you grabbed ahold of his wrist and tried to push it away. “Peter yes” he murmured into the skin behind your ear before he pressed a small kiss to the shell of your ear. You can feel him smirking, you didn't know what his next move was.

He suddenly started to tickle you with his left hand effectively having you let go of him and curl up onto his lap laughing. He chuckled at your reaction before gently pressing the heel of his hand against your forehead. Your body went lax and you started to slur your words sleepily, “Your no fair” you murmured, head falling against his shoulder.

“All's fair in love and war my love” Peter said, maneuvering your body so that he was cradling you. He used his powers to dim the lights of your office abit, you tried to squirm with the energy you had left. He just clicked his tongue and started to rock you back and forth a little.

“I know what's best for you sweetie and you stressing out about something that's out of your control is not good. You staying up late is not healthy” Peter cooed and you only hummed in response. Peter cradled you on the couch for a good fifteen minutes, then he carried you to bed; using his powers to turn the office lights off fully when he left.

He placed you down gently on the bed, brushing the hair out of your face and smiling down at you. You could smell the detergent on the fresh sheets as he tucked you in for the night. He turned off the bed side lamp on your side, before moving to his side of the bed; then he turned off his.

When he got into bed and held you close you felt like jelly in his hold. When he pressed his lips to your forehead you felt his powers surge through you to finish you off. You blacked out instantly, body going limp against his. Tomorrow he was going to help you with whatever he could so you wouldn't stress.

#peter ballard x reader #001 x reader #stranger things season four

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unangelic-thoughts · 2 years

Text

Addicted (Rafe x Reader One Shot)

Summary: You are Barry's older sister (23). You're a pogue but you've worked yourself up to a good paying job - nowhere near Kook rich but you live comfortably. One day you check up on your drug-dealer brother and that's when your life suddenly becomes entangled with the one and only Rafe Cameron (20).

Warnings: NSFW smut 18+, fingering, oral sex (m receiving), mention of drugs and alcohol

Words: 6.6k

Hi all! I started writing this a little while ago and managed to finish it today. I like writing for fun, mainly for myself, but I like sharing my work every now and again. Hope you enjoy and as always, constructive criticism is welcome. <3

Walking towards the run-down mobile home my brother calls a home, the lawn littered with all sorts of shit - I feel a mix of annoyance and concern. My brother, - half-brother - has been mixed into drugs since he was a teenager. Now he's 20 and despite trying my best to get him out of this lifestyle, he doesn't seem to notice or care how much it's destroying him. How much like his drug addict father he has become, the one thing he once said he didn't want to be. Our mum refuses to see him in this state, so I feel a sense of responsibility to at least check up on him every so often. I'm always worried about how I'm going to find him, my mind sometimes wandering to the worst possible scenario.

I shake that thought away and let out a sigh, just as a complete asshole speeds off on his bike merely inches beside me; causing me to step aside to avoid him hitting me and as by doing so, I fall to the ground with a thud. I feel anger start to boil up inside me but before I can shout obscenities at him, he's already gone. "Hey sis, you comfortable down there?" I snap my head back around to face a grinning Barry. I stare at him with an irritated look, letting him know that I don't appreciate his shitty attempt at a joke right now. I get myself up, brushing off the grass that's stuck on my jeans from the fall.

"That asshole almost hit me! And he didn't even stop to see if I was okay!" I exclaim.

"Oh shit. That's that little fucker, Rafe Cameron. He came in demanding shit with no payment. I told him to go screw himself. I guess he didn't take it too well." Barry says, chuckling to himself. Rafe - Of course it's Rafe. If it weren't for the fact he zoomed past me like that, I would've recognized him instantly. I babysat for the Cameron's a few times to get some extra cash, mainly looking after the little one, Wheezie. Sarah and I used to sit and talk, I'd let her braid my hair and we'd watch movies together even though we're seven years apart. She's pretty mature for her age.

"Since when is Rafe into drugs?" I ask curiously, walking up to Barry who has found a seat on a log. He shrugs his shoulders in response, his lip curling down as if to say "I don't know" but he still comes up with an answer, "When are Kooks not into drugs? They're probably raised on that shit!"

I dismiss his response, not wanting to talk about Rafe any longer. I ask him how he's been and he gives me the same bullshit answer as he always does. But he's alive and breathing and not completely drugged out of his mind in this moment so that's good enough for me. He asks about mum, I know it hurts him that she doesn't want to see him. I think it hurts him even more than when his dad left, and all I can do is try and comfort him. Barry can be a real dick at times, but I know that he's good person deep inside. That's why I can't give up on him.

He tells me he's going to a kegger at the beach tonight and I should tag along if I want to. I used to go out a lot before I got my job at Maritime Corporations but I didn't want to be involved in any kind of trouble so I stopped. Us Pogues already have a bad reputation as it is, I didn't want anything affecting my new job. I think about it a for a minute and decide that it's about time I let myself have some fun, so I agree to meet him there later on.

I decide upon a matching two piece outfit and as the sun goes down, I make my way to the party. As always, there's a mixture of Pogues, Kooks and Tourons - I can feel the uplifting buzz in the air. I walk onto the sandy beach, scanning around for Barry or any other familiar face. Someone suddenly bumps into me, and as I turn to see who it is I am met with a pair of striking blue eyes. "Jesus Rafe! You really don't look where you're going, do you?" I say, letting my annoyance show through.

"Y/N! Good to see you! It's been a while!" He says, an arrogant smile plastered on his face. His arms are wide open, each hand holding a beer. After seeing what drugs and alcohol have done to my step-dad and Barry, I've become hesitant to do any of those things anymore. I scoff at the state he's already in, considering the party's only just begun.

"Has it been a while, really? Because from what I remember you almost ran me over earlier today!" I reply, shooting daggers at him. His expression changes from confused to sudden realization. "Wait, that was you?!" he raises his voice whilst pointing at me. It doesn't seem like he actually understands the severity of it, because he's still got that stupid grin on his face.

"Yep." I say, letting the 'P' pop. "That was me. Unfortunately." I reply, smiling at him sarcastically as I cross my arms. He loops one of his arms around my shoulders, bringing me closer to him. "I'm so sorry, I didn't realize that was you!" He says, failing to sound genuinely apologetic. I sigh and attempt to get his arm off of me but he only tightens his grip. He places one of the beers into my hand and turns his head to me, "Here, take this - as an apology for earlier."

I can smell the alcohol on his breath, his pupils are almost all black; most likely from the combination of drugs he's done. It makes me uncomfortable, almost repulses me. I tell him I don't want his beer but he insists so I hold onto it just so he can get his arm off of me. I finally spot Barry in the near distance and he sees me too. I shrug Rafe's arm off my shoulder without saying a word and walk towards Barry.

We start talking to each other for a while before Barry's gaze hardens and focuses on something behind me. I turn around just as Rafe stops in front of us with his little gang, Topper and Kelce. "Have anything good tonight?" Rafe asks Barry. Barry chuckles in response, "Yeah, I do. But there ain't no way in hell I'm sellin' you any after the shit you pulled on me today."

That certainly pisses Rafe off, I can see the desperation in his eyes. It makes me sad seeing how hooked on this shit he is, part of me feels the urge to help him but it's not my place to get involved. Rafe storms past me, and shoves Barry, threatening him to give him something. Barry of course, finds this amusing and pushes him back. They start to argue loudly and I realize that if I don't end this now, things are going to end very badly.

"Guys! Can we not do this tonight? Can't you act like adults just for once in your lives?" I say, standing between them. They stare at each other but slowly back away. I put my arm around Barry to guide him away and he follows along. Until he doesn't. Out of nowhere, he decides to turn back around and punch Rafe square in the face. Rafe's about to fight back but is held back by his friends. I run to Barry, grabbing his arm and dragging him away. I start to lecture him about what he'd just done but to no avail. It goes in one ear and comes out of the other. Thankfully, Rafe doesn't follow.

Barry and his druggie friends decide to ditch this party, inviting me to go with them. I look behind me, seeing Rafe in the distance with his hand on his face. It's covered in red liquid. Blood. I tell them to go without me, that I want to stay at the party longer. Once they've left, I make my way over to the Kooks. I don't know what's come over me or what I'm going to do exactly, but I feel like I need to fix what my brother's done in some way.

"You should probably get that checked out." I say, as I approach Rafe. His face is tilted upwards in an attempt to stop the bleeding and he doesn't look too happy.

"You think? Where's your brother? I just wanna talk!" He says frowning whilst looking behind me frantically. This macho-man act is actually pretty amusing. Men are such weird creatures.

"He's already left. And even if he was here, you'd think I'd let you go 'talk' to him?" I say, chuckling and tucking away some strands of hair that have fallen onto my face behind my ear. He doesn't reply, so I continue. "No but seriously, you really need to do something about your nose. Like, now." I say, noticing how the bleeding is still pretty bad.

"I'm fine" is all he says, but I can tell he's in a lot of pain. So I walk closer to him and lightly tap my finger on his nose. He shrieks in pain, moving backwards. "Fuck Y/N! Why'd you do that?!" He shouts, shielding his nose.

I can't help but chuckle, "You said you were fine, I just wanted to see if you were telling the truth. Obviously, you're not. So shut up and come with me." Grabbing his forearm, I guide him through a path away from the beach towards my friend, Isabella's place. It's only a five minute walk and she so happens to be a nurse so she'll be able to help.

"Where are we going? You're not going to touch me up are you? Not that I'm complaining, but it's kinda hard to do anything when your face is gushing with blood. We can surely arrange that for some other time though." Rafe says flirtatiously , it seems like he doesn't lose his "charm" even when he's injured.

I can't help but laugh out loud at his comment. "As if I'd have sex with you. In your dreams, Cameron." I reply. We arrive at Isabella's place and I notice the lights are all turned off. I think for a moment before remembering where she leaves her key. I know she wouldn't mind me going into her place, we're pretty close.

"Uh, so... Are you going to murder me and dump my body over the pier? Because I can't think of another explanation as to why we're at some random house right now." He says, looking at me a little more innocently this time. I smile, amused by his reaction. I shake my head and grab the key from a nearby plant pot. Opening the door I guide him into the kitchen, where I manage to find the first aid kit. I can feel Rafe staring at me and I try to ignore the weird sensation in the pit of my stomach.

"I'm just going to clean this up." I say, gesturing to the mess that is his face right now. "Luckily for you, my nurse friend taught me a few things." He has a cut on his nose and upper lip, I clean it with some antiseptic and cotton wool and add some pressure until the bleeding stops. There's already a bruise showing through and I'm worried his nose might be broken. I gently feel his nose and he winces, grabbing my wrist to stop me from continuing.

"It doesn't feel like anything's broken, just some cuts. But you need to keep an eye on it anyway, just in case." I let him know. Suddenly, I become aware of our close proximity and the fact he still has his hand wrapped around my wrist. He looks at me and says, "Why are you helping me?"

It catches me a little of guard, but I guess it's a valid question. "Because you're hurt. I couldn't leave you to bleed out after what my brother did." I reply honestly. He finally lets go of my wrist and I take a step back.

"You could have left me. I'm just a rich Kook to you, you must think I deserve it." He presses, his expression is hard to read but I can tell he wants a better answer. I look to the floor then back up again "You do deserve it, but it doesn't excuse what Barry did. He shouldn't of hit you. It just didn't feel right leaving you like that." He nods at my response, not seeming completely satisfied with my answer but he doesn't push further.

There's an awkward pause before he speaks again. "So...you have something I can take?" He asks, raising his eyebrows. I know immediately what that "something" is that he's referring to. I frown, feeling annoyed but mostly disappointed in him.

"No. Do you really think I carry drugs on me?" I ask. There's another pause before he replies, "Well, do you?" I let out a groan of irritation. I can't believe this dude.

"I don't do or carry drugs on me. I'm not like my brother. In fact, I despise that shit." I say in response, running my fingers through my hair. That seems to surprise him, "I just thought cause your brother is into it, then you would be too." He says, blatantly. I scoff, rolling my eyes at his ridiculous statement.

A pang of sadness hits me, and I lean my back onto the dining table. I find myself speaking before I can stop myself. "You know, for the longest time I've been trying to get him out of this situation but nothing's changed. Every time I come see him, I'm worried about whether I'll find him lying dead on the floor. It scares me so much. And I also feel guilty, because I feel ashamed about people knowing we're related. I don't want them to get the wrong idea about me too. I know I shouldn't feel that way but I do." I can feel my eyes fill with tears but I blink it all away. Rafe is looking at me, but with a different expression this time. Pity?

He slowly walks over to me, stretching his arm out to gently place his palm on my cheek. This action takes me by surprise but instead of flinching away, I lean into it. "Y/N, it's not your fault. None of this is. You're a great sister, I can see that. But unless he wants to change, he won't. You need to stop constantly thinking of him and put yourself first for once. And no one thinks of you that way, I shouldn't have said that. It was a shitty thing to say." He replies with a completely new tone to what I'm used to from Rafe Cameron. It's sincere, apologetic...heartfelt. Next thing I know, I'm looking at his lips. I don't know why, but something about his plump, pink lips makes me lose all focus. I snap out of it, moving away from his touch and place the first aid kit back in the cabinet.

"Well, you're as good as new! Almost." I say, trying to forget what happened a second ago and lighten the tension between us. I lock the door behind us and we make our way through the dimly lit path towards the beach again. Just before we've reached the party, he turns to face me whilst walking backwards. He's got his usual grin plastered on his face once again. "I'll see you around Y/L/N." He says, winking at me. I can't resist the urge to roll my eyes, "Hopefully not, Cameron."

My luck doesn't last long because I see him again two weeks later at work. It catches me completely off guard, it's the last place I'd expect to see him at. As I walk past my boss's office, which is enclosed by see-through glass, Rafe is standing next to his father who is conversing with my boss. They're both laughing at whatever their talking about, whilst Rafe is trying his best to look like he's listening. I can tell he's completely disinterested by the way he's looking around, trying to find anything mildly amusing to look at. I giggle at myself at the sight of him just as he notices me and I quickly look away as if I wasn't just staring at him. I glance back at him again. He's still staring at me but now there's a grin on his face.

I continue walking to the printer room to collect my documents. As I wait for them to print, I shift my weight from leg to leg. I bite my lip, a sign that I'm feeling nervous. It's like I've unconsciously taken a mental picture of Rafe's face when he looked at me and I can't get it out of my head. I try to suppress the smile creeping up on my face by biting down on my lip harder. My colleague, Sam, interrupts my internal struggle as he walks into the room. We chat about work, trying to make the time go by faster. Once we've decided we've been gone for too long, we make our way back into the main office.

My boss, Rafe and his dad have all relocated to the main hallway outside his office. He signals to Sam and I and we walk up to the three of them. I try my best to suppress the odd feeling at the pit of my stomach, and I look at everywhere but Rafe. We introduce ourselves to Mr Cameron and our boss lets us know we'll be joining him to an event that Mr Cameron will be hosting. It's going to be about the new joint venture of Maritime and Cameron Corporations. We will be needed to introduce the new scheme and answer any questions from possible investors. I nod in agreement, putting on my best 'professional' face on as I normally do in these types of situations.

As Sam, who is my senior/mentor, explains the finer details of this project along with our boss, I hang behind pretending to listen. In reality, I'm staring at the coffee machine which stopped working two weeks ago and no one has bothered to get it fixed yet. I look around again, trying to find anything else I can occupy my mind with. To my 'luck', my focus lands on no other but Rafe; who once again, is already staring back at me. We discreetly smile at each other knowingly, both thinking about the fact that I caught him slacking earlier and he caught me slacking this time.

He takes a step closer to me and then looks to his side. When he is satisfied that the others are too engrossed in their conversation to hear him, he finally talks "So this is where you work."

"Yep, although I didn't expect to see Rafe Cameron working around here. Or at all," I add sarcastically.

"It wasn't my choice," he lifts his eyebrows and tilts his head towards his father. "And I do work...Just on other things," he adds looking down at his biceps which his shirt does a great job of outlining.

I mentally shake my head and try to think of a way to change the subject to stop any dirty thoughts from entering my brain. "Your bruise is gone." I lift my finger slightly to point to where his injury used to be. The one I personally treated not too long ago. It briefly brings me back to the moment his hand was on my cheek that night, and the fact I didn't want him to take it away. I really need to stop thinking about him touching me, or any parts of his body. I need to stop thinking about him, period.

"I had a great nurse," he winks. He leans closer to me, whispering this time, "Oh, and by the way, you look hot in that outfit." I immediately feel warmth in my cheeks and I mentally tell myself off. I shouldn't be reacting this way to Rafe Cameron. I instinctively roll my eyes at his crude comment.

"You know that counts as harassment in the workplace, right?" I reply, feeling smug about my response.

"Does it count if the recipient likes it though?" His rhetorical question catches me off guard, but I try my best to hide the affect it has on me. Can't say if I actually did a good job at it though.

"Don't flatter yourself, Cameron." I shake my head and cross my arms.

"So I'll see you Friday then?" I frown in confusion, not recalling making any plans with him. Of course, he is referring to the business event his dad is hosting.

"I'm guessing your dad's forcing you to go to that as well, in which case, yes - I will see you Friday."

"Honestly, I was going to find an excuse not to go but it turns out there might just be a reason to go." He has his hands in his pockets and looks me up and down. He means me. But I don't take him seriously. He mindlessly flirts with practically everyone, so it doesn't mean anything.

I hear Sam call my name and he reminds me of our meeting which starts in a minute. I start walking towards him but not before I turn back to Rafe and smile, "Sure."

The event comes around pretty quickly since I've been so focused on preparing myself for it. It's the first official event where I'll be representing the company and I want to make sure I get everything right. I decided to go with a lilac figure-hugging dress and nude heels. It's definitely a lot dressier than what I'm used to wearing but it feels good for a change.

Sam agreed to pick me up and we meet our boss at the venue. It's a beautiful place adjacent to the sea. There's a large gazebo decorated in white with gold accents and fairylights. I follow my boss as we make our way towards Mr Cameron who welcomes us and explains how the event will run tonight. I make small talk with Rose, Mr Cameron's wife, expressing how delighted I am to be there. I spot Rafe walking over to us and I can't help but think how good he looks in his light blue suit which brings out the colour of his eyes.

He greets us one by one, finally walking over to me. He extends his hand for a handshake and I extend mine. His skin is incredibly soft and it makes me wonder what it would feel like against my body. He holds onto my hand just a second longer than necessary. Not long enough for anyone but me to notice, and it definitely makes me feel a certain type of way. I let go and look away, trying to hide the warmth creeping up on my cheeks; just in time for Mr Cameron to lead us to the stage where we'll be introducing our new company venture.

It's already half-way through the night and I'm completely exhausted. I have lost count of how many people I've spoken to and my cheeks hurt from forcing myself to smile so much. Thankfully, the hard part is over and my boss has given us the okay to enjoy the rest of the evening. I decide to explore the rest of the venue to give myself a break from all the people and noise. As an introvert, it's exhausting being in social situations for too long.

As I slowly walk through the corridors of the venue, I stumble across a door labeled 'Kitchen'. It's slighly ajar and I can hear faint voices coming from it. As I walk a little closer, I see Mr Cameron with his back to me and I realise he sounds kind of pissed but is trying to keep his voice down.

"You're a fucking disappointment. All I needed you to do is one simple thing and you couldn't even do that!"

It doesn't take long for me to find out who he's talking to because Rafe steps into view shortly after. He's looking down at the floor with his hands in his pockets. I've never seen him look so small before and he almost looks like he's about to cry.

"Look, dad. I didn't mean to. I'm sorry." He finally looks up at his dad, with an apologetic look on his face as he paces back and forth.

"Sorry? That's all you've got for me? Sorry just doesn't cut it son! I'm embarrassed to even call you that! You're a sorry excuse of a son!" Mr Cameron's voice becomes louder and before I can register what's happening, his palm collides with Rafe's cheek. Rafe looks so completely broken that it makes me want to walk in there and take him away from the situation. But I don't. Instead, I walk away because if I was caught eavesdropping I would definitely be in trouble with my boss.

I join Sam back outside but my head won't stop replaying what I just witnessed. I try my best to sound normal as I talk with Sam, but judging from the expression on his face, he can tell something is up. I see a light blue suit dash across the crowd towards the beach. I make up an excuse about needing the bathroom and make my way towards the sandy shore. The only light illuminating the beach is the distant lights of the venue, so it takes a moment for my vision to adjust and spot Rafe. He's sitting on the sand with his knees propped up as his arms rest on them.

I join him and he glances at me before looking back at the moonlit ocean. "What are you doing here?" He asks.

"I wanted to see if you were okay." I reply honestly, fiddling the handle of my purse and taking a seat next to him.

"I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?" He turns his head, with a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. I contemplate about whether I should bring up what I saw and before I can decide against it, my mouth blurts it out.

"I saw what happened. With your dad." I say, biting my lip. He doesn't speak straight away and the silence is making me nervous.

"Oh that? That was nothing. We were just talking about work." He chuckles uncomfortably.

"It didn't look like nothing to me." I reply. I wait for him to say something but he doesn't, so I continue. "You can talk to me if you want. I know it won't fix anything but it might make you feel better to let it out."

"S' just like my dad said. I'm a big ol' disappointment. Can't get anythin' right." I notice the slurring in his voice and I can tell he's wasted. He brings the beer he's been holding to his lips, downing as much of its contents as possible. Normally, I would probably suggest he slow down but this doesn't feel like the right time to do that.

"You're not a disappointment." I respond and mean what I say.

"Yeah? And how do you know that? All I do is get high and wasted, right? What else am I good for?" He harshly wipes his eyes with the palm of his hand and I can see the tears welling up in his eyes.

"It's okay to cry, you know. It's not a sign of weakness."

"I am..not..crying." He clears his throat, trying to sound more convincing.

"Fine. But if you are, that's okay too. Men are taught to suppress their emotions and that showing them makes you weak. But it doesn't. It just makes you human." His head suddenly falls between his knees and he's crying. No. He's sobbing; Uncontrollably. There must be a lot he's been holding onto.

There's a heavy feeling at the pit of my stomach and I truly empathise with him. I've seen how his dad has treated him before, when I would babysit Wheezie. Although I dislike Rafe, I still think his dad was being a complete asshole at the time. I guess he hasn't changed much.

I wrap my arms around him, not saying anything else. Just letting him release everything he's been holding in. A while later, the sobbing quitens until it eventually stops. I've still got my arms around him and as I look over at his face, I realize he's fallen asleep. I try to wake him up but that does absolutetly nothing. I guess whatever he ingested earlier must have completely knocked him out. I gently lay him down on the sand and I lie down next to him. There are only a few stars in the sky tonight, and before I can finish counting them, the darkness engulfes me too.

I wake up, the morning sun making my eyes squint shut. I turn to look away, only to face an already awake Rafe. His eyes look even more blue in the morning sunrise. "Hey" he says.

"Hey", I reply as I sit up. I look ahead of me and watch the calm waves detract and retract from the shore. There's an awkward silence between us, but I'm too tired to care this early in the morning. I grab my phone from my purse to check the time. 7 AM. There are a few texts and missed calls from Sam asking where I went and I quickly type back a reply letting him know I'm okay. Hopefully my boss didn't notice I was gone too.

"I should probably get going." Rafe says as he stands up, wiping the sand off of his clothes. I stand up too, nodding in agreement.

"Do you need a ride?" He turns to me. I'm about to politely decline when I remember that Sam drove me to the event.

"Yeah, that'd be great." I nod. The thought of being in a small enclosed space with Rafe is making me nervous but I try my best to hide it. We walk to his car and I give him directions to my apartment. We make small talk and I find out that Jurassic Park is his favourite franchise. Who knew Rafe Cameron was into dinosaurs? When we arrive to my place, I thank him for the ride.

"Thanks Y/N. For last night." He glances over at me before I have a chance to get out of his car. I look back at him and smile, hop out of the car and close the door behind me.

I see Rafe again a few weeks later at work. My boss and Mr Cameron are having their monthly catch-up meeting; Rafe is also there and we exchange a friendly smile as we walk past each other. I want to ask him how he's doing but I suppress the urge, continuing on with my work. I had almost managed to get him completely out of my mind, but there he is again. One glance and the feelings come flooding back.

A couple of days after this I decide to pay Barry a visit. I walk up to his trailer and notice his door is ajar. This isn't that unsual for him so I just let myself in. I call out his name but there's no answer. As I look around for any sign of him, I start to hear shuffling coming from the direction of his room. His bedroom door is also half closed and as I push it open I am surprised to see Rafe frantically looking through Barry's wardrobe.

I frown, unsure of how to react. "Rafe? What are you doing here?" I say, hoping that his explanation will make some sort of sense. He looks over at me looking startled, his eyes look like they're far away. He stumbles over towards me and places his hands on my shoulders.

"Y/N! I need your help. I need you to tell me where Barry keeps his stach!" He says with a desperate look on his face.

"I-I don't know Rafe. I don't know where he keeps it. Did you break in?!" I say, trying to make sense of what is happening.

"He refused to sell me any so I had to get it somehow!" He replies, going back to looking through Barry's belongings. My confusion starts to turn into anger.

"Are you fucking kidding me?! If Barry finds you, he'll kill you! I can't believe this! You need serious help Rafe!" I exclaim, but that doesn't stop him from his search so I continue. "Did something happen? Why are you being like this?" He finally stops, throwing whatever he was holding onto the floor and turns to me. He's hyperventilating and I can tell he's suffering. All I want to do in this moment is to make it stop.

"I tried Y/N. I really tried to stop. I was doing well for a few weeks and then...then my dad.." His gaze moves from me to the floor and his hands are gripped tighly at his sides.

"What happened?" I ask him, the concern evident in my voice. I can't even try and hide it right now. I take a step closer to him, urging him to answer. He tried to sober up?

"Nothing. It's nothing." He finally says, shaking his head whilst glancing between me and the floor. His gaze finally settles back to me, "I just need you to help me find it. Please."

I have never seen him look like this. Something really bad must've happened for him to be acting this way. Rafe Cameron has always been a little unhinged, but never to this extent.

I shake my head and try my best to sound confident in my words. "I can't Rafe. You have to leave."

That doesn't seem to be the right answer because he momentarily shuts his eyes, shakes his head and goes back to rummaging through Rafe's room. I lunge forward, grab his arm and turn him towards me. "Stop it Rafe!"

His expression turns into anger and he grabs me by the shoulders, shaking me. "If you're not going to help me, then get the fuck out!" He shouts and pushes me backwards. His aggresive action startles me but I stay put where I am.

"Look - if you're going through something, you can talk to me; but you can't do this. Okay?" I say, trying to calm him down but to no avail.

"It doesn't fucking matter! It's not even here!" He growls in frustration and attempts to rush past me to exit Barry's bedroom; I grip his forearm and turn him to face me.

"Rafe! Just stop!" He's about to turn away from again but my grip tightens, stopping him in his tracks. In one swift motion, I take a step toward him and do the last thing I can think of to calm him down. I place my lips on his. It's only a soft peck and it only lasts a couple of seconds before I pull myself back. "Stop" I say, my voice below a whisper. We're both looking at each other, his expression is softer than it was a few seconds ago. His gaze falls back on my lips but he doesn't say a thing. He just crashes his lips on mine and grips my face with both hands. I place mine on his forearms to balance myself.

Our kiss is much more intense this time around, lust overflowing from the both of us. And I can't stop because I've realised that this has been building up for a long time now. I want him. He walks me backwards until my back finally touches the window. He lifts me slightly, sitting me on the window's ledge but our kiss never breaks. His tongue caresses mine and my whole body starts to tingle. My hand falls in between his legs and I can already feel the growing bulge through his jeans. This only turns me on further. I want to make him feel good, to show him that this feels so much better than the drugs and the alcohol. That he can stay sober.

Without hesitation, I unbuckle his belt and pull down his zip. I finally break our kiss and start sucking on his neck. He lets out a moan and it makes me smile, knowing that I'm making him feels this way. I slide my hand inside his boxers, taking a hold of his cock.

"Fuck" He breathes out. I pull out his length from his jeans and start pumping back and forth. His hands grip my thighs as they slowly move towards my heat. He kisses me aggresively and I can feel the wetness between my legs. "I want to touch you" He says as he pulls back, looking down where his hands are inching closer and closer towards me. All I can do is nod. He slips my skirt up and quickly pulls my panties down, exposing my pussy. He doesn't waste any time before his fingers collide with my clit and I gasp at the feeling. He rubs circles with his fingers and I continue to pump his member. It's not long before he slips a finger inside of me and I can't believe how euphoric it feels.

I start moving my hips back and forth, wanting to feel as much of him inside of me as possible. This prompts him to slip another finger in and I moan in pleasure. He pulls my top and bra up with his free hand, exposing my breasts and he immediately begins sucking my nipples. It feels so good that I could cum this second. I push him off of me and for a second he looks surprised until I kneel in front of him and he realises what I'm about to do.

I pump his cock a few more times before I lick from the base to the tip. He gasps, and I look up at him, enjoying the view. I finally fully take him in my mouth and start to suck him off whilst using my hands at the base. He extends one arm in front of him, placing the palm of his hand on the window to steady himself.

"Fuck Y/N. I need to fuck you. Right now" He exhales, then pulls me up and pushes me back up on the window ledge, although a little harder this time. He laces his fingers through my hair, grabbing a handful at the base to keep my head still before he kisses me deeply. God, he's such a good kisser.

"Rafe" is all I manage to say before he thrusts himself inside of me. It takes me a minute to adjust to his girth but it quickly turns from discomfort to pleasure. He thrusts inside me with force and I never want him to stop. I mutter his name over and over again because that's all my mind can think about. Him.

His right hand moves to carress my clit whilst his left wraps around my throat. I look up at him and he's already looking at me between his hair, which has fallen in front of his face. That's all it takes before my moans get louder and I reach my climax. He continues to thrust in and out of me until his own climax takes over and he fills me up. We're both breathing heavily and we sit there for a moment before he finally pulls out of me. I immediately feel his cum trickle down the inside of my thigh.

Suddenly, the front door slams shut and I hear Barry's voice booming from the other room. Rafe looks at the door and then back at me and we both breathlessly mutter in unison "Shit."

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