#But I'm feeling confident no one will get it

[aliyahwritings]

THE CONTRACTED HEART — Rafe Cameron (10)

MASTERLIST | Basketball Player & Supermodel!Female Reader

Summary: Rafe Cameron, a basketball star, needs a marriage to fix his image, while Model!Reader needs one for citizenship. They may be the perfect solution for each other.

Warnings: smut, descriptions of violence, jealousy, usage of drugs, talks about body image/ed, angst, and lots of bickering. Reader is confident, a people-pleaser, has a traumatic past, and is a sunshine with an attitude. Rafe is a whore, possessive, cocky, and secretive about his past.

Word Count: 8.7k

Aliyah's Notes: another long chapter!!!! had a bit of an issue with this chapter. didn't know where to go, and how to finish it but i'm pretty satisfied with the ending... hope y'all will feel that way too #scared

You were going to throw up.

It was 6 in the morning, and your apartment was filled with a pre-party energy—Aisha fluttering around checking final details, making sure everything was perfect for you. But for you, the weight of the day felt unbearable. The engagement party was only a few hours away, and you were supposed to feel excited, but instead, all you could feel was anxiety.

You stood in front of the full-length mirror, staring at your reflection as the fabric of your saree clung to your skin. It was a beautiful one—pale yellow with blue hues, simple, elegant. But as you looked at yourself, all you saw were flaws. Your stomach, the slight curve of your hips, your arms felt weird. Every inch of you felt exposed, like you were wearing your insecurities on display for the world to see. The saree that was supposed to make you feel confident now felt like a prison, the tightness around your chest suffocating you.

You tugged at the fabric, your fingers trembling as your heart raced in your chest. “I don’t know, Aish,” you said, your voice faltering. “I just… I don’t think I can do this.”

Aisha, who had been running around your place, stopped and turned to you with a frown, concern written all over her face. “Y/N, you look perfect. Rafe is going to love it, I swear. You look incredible, seriously.”

But her words didn’t reach you. They never did. They didn’t fix the sinking feeling in your stomach, the pit that had been growing since you woke up. You didn’t feel incredible. You felt like a mess. Like a lie. You felt like you didn’t belong in this world of glitz and glamour, not when the weight of your own past was pressing down on you.

You turned back to the mirror, avoiding her gaze, and exhaled shakily. “It’s not about Rafe,” you said, barely above a whisper, as if the words were too heavy to say aloud. “It’s… it’s everything. Everyone.”

She didn’t speak at first, but you could hear her footsteps approach slowly, her presence gentle and calm as she stood beside you. “What do you mean?”

“They’re not here,” you murmured, swallowing back the lump in your throat. “My family—they haven’t been here. They don’t care.”

The words slipped out before you could stop them, and so did the tears running down your face. You quickly wiped them away, trying to maintain some sort of control, but it was useless. The reality of it all hit you like a tidal wave.

Aisah’s expression softened, and she placed a hand on your shoulder. “Look, I know it’s tough, but you left for a reason. They treated you like an animal—you were nothing to them and look at you now. You have everything you want, you’re surrounded by people who love you, and you’re engaged to an amazing guy.”

“But you don’t get it,” your voice broke. “I haven’t spoken to them in years, Aisha. I haven’t heard from them since… you know… My Amma and Appa… they’ve never cared to fix what happened. And now they’re not here for this huge moment. They’re not here for me. And I just feel… I feel like none of this matters without them.”

You could feel the tightness in your chest grow, a heavy weight pressing down on your chest. Every time you thought about them—your parents, your siblings—it felt like the world was falling apart again. All the years of silence, the anger, the bitterness, the feeling of being abandoned… it was all still there, festering under the surface. You couldn’t help but wonder if you were always going to feel like the outsider, the one who wasn’t good enough for their love.

Aisha watched you quietly for a moment before speaking again, her voice softer. “Y/N, I know this isn’t easy. But this isn’t about your family. This is about you and the life you’re building. You’re so much more than your past, and tonight you get to shine. You’re not doing this for them. You’re doing it for you.”

You closed your eyes, letting her words sink in. You still feel the weight of it all, but as Aisha gave you one last reassuring look, you felt a small spark of resolve. Maybe you didn’t feel perfect. Maybe you never would. But tonight, you would step into this new chapter of your life, for you, and not for anyone else.

“You’re right,” you whispered, putting on a fake-ish smile. “Let me get over this. There’s too much to do today.”

The hours before the engagement party moved in a blur of preparations, but the nerves clung to you like an unwelcome guest. After Aisha helped you steady yourself, you dove into the checklist for the day, hoping to lose your anxieties in the bustle. Your hairdresser and makeup artist arrived promptly, transforming your apartment into a whirlwind of brushes, palettes, and fabric draping.

Despite the chaos, you couldn’t help but glance at your phone every few minutes, the screen lighting up teasingly with messages from Rafe. He’d been training all morning, but somehow still found the time to send you a steady stream of texts.

Rafe: Do you think this party will have snacks? Asking for a hungry basketball player.

You: There’s a buffet, Rafe. You’ll survive.

Rafe: Buffet doesn’t count. I want something good, like that thing you brought over the other day.

You: If you’re fishing for more biryani, the answer is no.

Rafe: Wow, first you take my penthouse, now you refuse me food? This marriage is starting off rocky.

You: This marriage hasn’t even started yet.

The exchange brought a smile to your lips despite yourself. He had this way of teasing that felt like a lifeline at the moment.

“Are you blushing?” Aisha teased from where she was meticulously laying out your jewelry.

“What? No,” you said, far too quickly. “Why would I even be blushing? You’re nuts… absolutely… absolutely nuts…”

“Oh my fucking God! You are!” she said with a grin, leaning in to glance at your phone. You pulled it away before she could peek at the screen, but the damage was done. “God, it’s so cute how he makes you smile like that.”

“You’re actually insane,” you mumbled, heat creeping up your neck.

She only laughed, clearly enjoying herself. “Denial is a river in Egypt, babe.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop your lips from twitching into a small grin. Rafe sent another message.

Rafe: So, what are you wearing?

You hesitated for a moment before replying.

You: Why? Thinking of copying my outfit?

Rafe: Maybe. But only if it’s good.

You: It’s a saree. Pale yellow with blue embroidery.

Rafe: Does it have one of those drapey things?

You: Yes, Cameron. That’s literally what makes it a saree!!!

Rafe: Got it. Drapey thing = saree. Send me a picture.

You didn’t respond, setting your phone down and pretending to focus on your makeup.

“Your husband?” Aisha asked, noticing your sudden quiet.

“Future husband,” you corrected with a finger up. “And obviously.”

“What’d he say?”

“He wants a picture.”

“Send him one. He’ll probably lose his mind. And let’s be real—you could use the ego boost.”

You shook your head, laughing despite yourself. Aisha wasn’t wrong. The way Rafe looked at you sometimes—or even texted you—had a way of making you feel like you were the most important person in the room. 

The hairdresser finished with your slicked half-up half-down hairstyle. Aisha brought over the jewelry: delicate gold bangles, matching earrings, and a necklace that felt heavy against your collarbones.

“Perfect,” Aisha said, stepping back to admire the finished look.

You glanced at your reflection in the mirror. The saree hugged you gracefully, the embroidery catching the light with every movement. The makeup brought a glow to your skin, and the hair framed your face perfectly. For the first time all day, you felt... good. 

Before you could overthink it, you picked up your phone and snapped a quick selfie—just enough to show the saree and the soft smile playing on your lips.

You: Fine. Here.

The reply came almost instantly.

Rafe: ...You’re killing me here.

Your heart skipped a beat at the simplicity of the words.

Rafe: Thank you brown people for existing, and making you. Rafe: Truly humanity owes them. Rafe: Forget the engagement party. Let’s just elope.

You laughed out loud, shaking your head.

You: Not happening. See you tonight.

His response made your stomach flutter in the strangest way.

Rafe: Can’t wait to become your fiancé, sweetheart.

The car rolled to a stop in front of the venue, its soft hum fading into the gentle buzz of the world outside. Through the tinted windows, you could see flashes of light—camera shutters capturing every moment like hunters seeking prey. The glow spilling from the venue, golden and inviting, felt overwhelming, almost oppressive. It danced off the grand arches of the villa, the soft flicker of string lights crisscrossing the courtyard casting a magical glow on the scene.

For a moment, you sat frozen, your fingers clutching the delicate fabric of your saree. It was meant to represent happiness, a tie to your heritage that should have brought you pride. But tonight, it felt more like a shackle, reminding you of the pieces of yourself you’d lost along the way.

“You okay?” Aisha’s voice came softly from beside you, laced with the familiar tone of concern that only she could carry so effortlessly. She looked radiant in her pale pink dress.

“Yeah… I… I’m fine,” you replied, the lie clumsy on your tongue.

Aisha raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced but deciding to let it slide. The car door opened, and she stepped out first, her head held high as though she didn’t care about anything—and knowing Aisha, she probably really didn’t care. When she turned to offer you her hand, her expression softened—a silent gesture of reassurance. You took it hesitantly, forcing your legs to carry you out of the car.

The cool evening air brushed against your skin, but it wasn’t enough to soothe the heat in your chest. Cameras clicked relentlessly, their flashes a blinding assault as the whispers began to ripple through the crowd.

“She’s a bit late.”

“She looks beautiful.”

“Why didn’t Rafe escort her out?”

“What is she wearing?”

Each word clawed at you, threatening to unravel the carefully constructed image you wore like an armor. You kept your head down, focusing on the rhythmic click of your heels against the gravel path as you made your way toward the villa’s entrance. The towering structure loomed over you, its ivy-draped walls and ornate carvings reminiscent of a bygone era. The cascading floral arrangements, all in deep crimson and soft pink hues.

Everything added to the suffocating pressure weighing on your chest.

Inside, the air buzzed with laughter and conversation as guests began to fill the sprawling garden. Long tables stretched across the courtyard, their surfaces glimmering with candles and vases bursting with fresh blooms. Everything was picturesque, perfect. Yet, all you could feel was a rising sense of dread.

“I need a minute,” you whispered to Aisha, not waiting for her reply before walking rapidly inside the villa.

You navigated the winding hallways with purpose, your steps quick but unsteady. You needed to escape—to find a quiet corner where the world’s eyes couldn’t follow, where you could let the overwhelming storm inside you settle, even just for a moment. The getting-ready room—it was the perfect refuge, a place to breathe and gather yourself before you faced the crowd again.

But as you rounded the corner, your steps faltered.

Rafe was there.

He leaned against the doorframe with an ease that felt infuriatingly effortless, his hands tucked casually into the pockets of his tailored white suit. The soft lighting played tricks with the lines of his face, his tousled hair looking as if it had been styled by the wind itself. The open collar of his shirt gave him an air of nonchalance that made him seem untouchable—except for the flicker of something warm in his eyes as he met your gaze.

“You planning to bolt already?” he teased, a crooked smile playing on his lips. His voice, low and smooth, carried the same blend of humor and arrogance that had always annoyed you.

You stopped, caught off guard. “What are you doing here?” you asked, your voice sharper than you intended.

Rafe pushed off the doorframe, taking a slow step toward you. “Waiting for you,” he said, his gaze dragging deliberately over your saree. His smile deepened as his eyes met yours again. “You look beau—”

“Rafe, I can’t do this,” you blurted, your voice trembling as the words spilled out before you could stop them.

The smile faded from his face, replaced by an expression of concern. “Why? What’s wrong?”

“Everything,” you said, your voice breaking. “The people, the cameras, the party—it’s all too much.”

Rafe’s brow furrowed as he stepped closer, his movements slow, deliberate. “You’ve done this a hundred times before,” he said softly. “What’s different now?”

You hesitated. “It’s not important,” you muttered, hoping he’d let it go. 

But Rafe wasn’t one to back down easily.

“Y/N,” he said softly, his voice steady but insistent. “Talk to me.”

You sighed, the lump in your throat growing heavier. “It’s stupid, okay? I’m just… I’m not used to this.”

“That’s not true.”

Your jaw tightened, and you looked away, your voice dropping to a whisper. “They’re not here.”

“Who?”

The question made you flinch, but you kept your response measured, your tone distant. “No one. It doesn’t matter.”

Rafe stepped closer, his presence grounding but not invasive. “It matters if it’s upsetting you.”

“It’s just… my family. We’re not close anymore, okay? And moments like this just remind me of that. But it’s fine. Whatever.”

His eyes softened, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say more. The details of your fractured relationship with your parents, the abuse, the years of silence—it wasn’t something you wanted to unpack here, not with him. You hated being this exposed, hated feeling so small under the weight of it all.

Rafe’s expression shifted, the concern in his eyes deepening. Slowly, he reached out, his hand brushing against your arm. “Hey,” he said softly, his voice steady but kind. “Look at me.”

“I can’t,” you shook your head, refusing. “You won’t understand.”

“Then help me,” he urged, his hand still resting lightly on your arm. “Talk to me.”

The lump in your throat grew, the words threatening to choke you. “I left them,” you started. “But I had a reason. I couldn’t continue living there. We were poor, so poor, Rafe. Some days we were barely fed and barely had a roof over our heads,” your voice trembled, and you forced yourself to not close your eyes to not relieve that part of your life. “They forced me to se—” but you stopped yourself. Not ready to admit it to Rafe. “—whatever. I just don’t feel like I belong anywhere.”

His jaw tightened, his grip on your arm firming slightly. For a moment, he said nothing, his blue eyes scanning your face as if trying to piece together the fractures you’d worked so hard to hide. Then, quietly, he spoke.

“You belong here,” he said firmly, his voice steady. “With me. Tonight, this party, all of it—it’s for us. And I don’t care who’s not here, because I’m here, okay? You worked hard to get where you are, and you can’t let your past, or anyone, ruin it for you.”

His words hit you like a tidal wave, the sincerity in his voice cutting through the fog of your doubt. Slowly, he reached for your hand, his fingers curling around yours with a warmth that steadied you.

You walked back toward the door, Rafe’s hand lightly resting against your back, guiding you through the villa. As you stepped into the bustling courtyard, the noise of the party hit you again—the sound of laughter, the clinking of glasses, the faint hum of music. It was impossible to escape the energy, the pressure of eyes watching.

You took a deep breath, trying to center yourself. Tonight wasn’t going to be easy, but you’d already survived the worst of it. With Rafe by your side, you could handle whatever came next.

The first person you spotted was Nina, her smile bright and easy as she chatted with a few guests by the drink station. She caught sight of you and waved, excusing herself from the conversation. Her dress—an elegant gold one—flattered her frame as she approached.

“You two disappeared for a while,” Nina said with a teasing glint in her eyes, though there was a hint of concern there, too. “Everything okay?”

“Uh, yeah, don’t worry. Everything’s perfect,” you waved your hands to not worry her. “By the way, Rafe, this is Nina Ramos—my agent and my second mother.”

He extended his hand with a charming grin. “Nice to meet you,” he said smoothly. “YN’s been telling me a lot about you.”

Liar.

Nina took his hand, her sharp eyes flicking between the two of you. “Has she now? All good I hope,” and you nodded instantly. “Well, this party is important and beautiful. Maybe all your overthinking served you well—you look absolutely perfect, honey. You too, Rafe.”

“Thanks,” you blushed at her compliment.

Rafe smirked. “She does look perfect, doesn’t she?”

You gave him a playful look, your lips curling into a reluctant smile at his compliment. 

“I’ll leave you two to it,” she said, a knowing smile playing on her lips. “But it was great meeting you, Rafe Cameron.”

“Likewise,” he replied, and with one last smile, Nina disappeared back into the crowd.

As soon as she was out of earshot, you turned to Rafe with a small smile. “She’s a good friend of mine,” you said softly. “You’ll like her.”

Rafe gave you a raised eyebrow. “She seems cool. I can see why you’re friends.”

Before you could respond, the sound of laughter caught your attention, and you spotted Aisha, her arm linked with a tall, broad-shouldered man. Her husband, Ishan—someone you hadn’t seen in a while. You had to blink to fully register the change in him, but the warmth in your chest was undeniable. 

Without thinking, you broke into a smile and made your way toward them, Rafe following behind.

As soon as Aisha spotted you, her face lit up with recognition. “Look who decided to surprise you,” she smiled, her voice higher because of how excited she was.

You immediately wrapped your arms around her husband, stepping into a hug. He chuckled, holding you tightly as he returned the embrace. “I’ve missed you,” you said, squeezing him as he laughed.

Ishan was like an older brother to you. He’d been there through some of the toughest times in your life, and his easy going nature always managed to bring you a sense of peace. His deep laugh and the familiarity of his embrace were exactly what you needed.

“I’ve missed you too, behen,” he said. “I come back to New York and I’m being told you’re getting married to Rafe Cameron. Imagine my surprise when Aisha told me.”

You pulled back from the embrace and laughed awkwardly. “Ah, yes, Rafe… Surprise, surprise, right?” 

Ishan furrowed his brows but you moved your hands. “I can’t really believe it… It’s really happening…”

“No, no! It’s not like—uh, well, okay, it is, but it’s like…” you turned your head to find Rafe behind Aisha making a cross with his hands. “I love it. He’s so, so, so funny and charming—and very committed, you know…”

“Uh huh, I see,” Ishan nodded and laughed at how weird you were being. “Can’t believe he’s gonna marry a loser like y—”

“So, you’re actually here. It’s been too long—how’s Switzerland?” you interrupted, and he sent you a look because he hated when you did that. “Sorry… but how is it? Did you climb every mountain and, like, yodel on top of a glacier?”

He chuckled a little and shook his head. “No, no yodelling, but I did eat tons of chocolate. I bought some for you too.” You did not even have time to reply to him that he extended a hand toward Rafe, his tone both warm and challenging. “So, you’re the infamous Rafe Cameron. My wife gave me a run-down on you. Some good things… and some questionable ones.”

"Your wife? Wait, who’s your wife?" Rafe asked, his confusion evident.

Oh, crap. You totally forgot to explain the whole family tree situation. Rookie mistake.

Aisha sighed dramatically, rolling her eyes as she raised her hand. "I’m the wife, genius. Seriously, YN—did you not tell him?"

"I’m sorry!" You blurted, cringing. "It completely slipped my mind. It’s just so normal to me that I didn’t even think to—"

Rafe interrupted you, and took Ishan’s hand in his. His smirk disarming but his handshake firm. “Well, I hope the good outweighed the questionable.”

“Debatable,” Ishan replied with a shrug. “But I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt… at least until you give me a reason not to.”

You felt a knot in your stomach as you glanced between the two. Ishan wasn’t being hostile, but his protectiveness had always been intense, like that of an older brother who wasn’t afraid to test the waters.

Rafe, to his credit, didn’t back down. His smirk deepened slightly, and he shrugged with an air of playful confidence. “Fair enough. I’ll do my best not to disappoint.”

“I’d hope so,” Ishan said lightly, though the undertone was clear. His gaze softened as it flicked toward you, his voice gentler now. “You’ve got a good one here. Don’t mess it up.”

“Trust me, I know how lucky I am,” Rafe replied, glancing at you with an expression so sincere it caught you off guard.

The words made your chest tighten in a way you weren’t prepared for, a warmth spreading through you despite the nervous energy still bubbling beneath the surface.

Aisha rolled her eyes, slapping her husband’s chest. “Alright, alright, that’s enough intimidation for one night. Let’s get some drinks, baby.”

Ishan laughed, ruffling Aisha’s hair affectionately before turning to you. “If he gives you any trouble, you know where to find me, behen.”

You grinned at the familiar term of endearment, feeling a wave of gratitude for his presence. “Yup!”

With a wink, they both disappeared into the crowd, leaving you and Rafe standing together.

The second they were out of earshot, Rafe let out a dramatic sigh, running a hand through his hair. “So, is everyone in your life this protective, or is it just me getting the special treatment?”

You smirked, crossing your arms. “What can I say? People care about me. Better get used to it.”

“Noted,” Rafe said, his voice dripping with mock seriousness. “I’ll add it to the ever-growing list of things to keep in mind when dealing with your very... passionate circle of people.”

An awkward silence stretched between us as you scanned the guests arriving. You recognized a few—Aisha’s mom, aunts, and cousins, mingling with Nina’s friends and siblings. You couldn't help but wonder if your wedding would be filled with people who didn’t really know you either.

Rafe stepped closer, standing next to you, and flashed a playful grin. "So, Ishan… he’s your… older brother, right?" He asked, clearly trying to figure out the family dynamic.

You turned to him with a soft laugh, shaking my head. "No, not my brother," you said, before pausing for a moment, trying to find the right words. "Okay, let me explain." You drew in a deep breath, gathering your thoughts. "Ishan’s more like the brother I never had—well, I do have brothers, but when I left home, I hadn’t really connected with them. But then I came to the U.S. and met Aisha, and Ishan just sort of stepped into that role. We’ve been through everything together—good, bad, you name it. He’s always had my back. No blood relation, but he might as well be."

Rafe’s expression softened as he absorbed that, nodding. “Sounds like he’s a pretty solid guy.”

“He really is,” you smiled, warmth creeping into your voice. “He and Aisha have always had my back, and they’ve been together for years now. They make a great team.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” he said, grinning. “He’s got that same intimidating vibe as she does. You can practically feel it.”

You laughed, nodding in agreement. “Exactly! Aisha and I used to joke about it. She always said, if I needed someone to scare off a date, I’d just call Ishan. Aisha’s got that sharp edge, and Ishan? He’s got the muscles.”

“I can definitely see that…” he said with a thoughtful nod before asking, “So, what kind of dynamic do you think we have?”

You shifted uncomfortably, avoiding his gaze for a moment as the question hung in the air. “Uh, well…” You cleared your throat. “I mean, we’re… we’re like, uh, a work in progress? Yeah, that sounds right. Like one of those ‘under construction’ signs, you know? A little chaotic…?” You laughed nervously, rubbing the back of your neck.

Rafe raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Chaotic? Really? You’re gonna call us chaotic?”

“Yeah, well, have you met you?” You shot back, crossing your arms. “You’re like a walking disaster zone.”

He laughed, leaning back. “Oh, I’m a disaster? You’re the one who keeps on throwing shade. For no reason at all.”

“That’s because you don’t know how to mind your own business,” you snapped, the words biting as you shrugged nonchalantly. “You’re the one getting all up in my space with your weird questions.”

“I’m not asking weird questions,” he shot back, his voice rising to match the sharpness of yours. “And do you seriously think we’re chaotic?”

You gave him a side-eye, arms crossed tightly over your chest. “Chaotic is an understatement, Cameron. We’re a disaster—with a capital D.”

He laughed, the sound low and amused, as though he didn’t take you seriously. “Oh really? You’re one to talk. You practically live for the drama.”

“Me? I live for drama?” You scoffed, pivoting fully to face him now, hands planted firmly on your hips as you let your eyes travel up and down him in a mixture of disbelief and annoyance. “You’re the definition of drama. You can’t even breathe without making everything about you.”

His lips curled into a grin, the kind that made your stomach twist in a way you refused to acknowledge. “You’re so easy to rile up.”

“You’re a jackass,” you muttered, shaking your head, every fiber of your being wanting to push him away—but not sure if you meant physically or emotionally.

He leaned in slightly, as if to throw another jibe your way, but instead, his eyes gleamed with mischief. “I think you’re just mad because I’m better at this than you.”

Your eyes narrowed, and you closed the distance between you, but the move was more impulsive than you intended. You instantly regretted it, realizing just how close you were to him now, the heat from his body practically radiating against yours. You swallowed, trying to mask the effect it had on you. “Better at what? Being a complete asshole?” Your voice wavered with a sharpness that betrayed how much it bothered you. “Yeah, Rafe, you’re a pro at that.”

He leaned in even closer, and this time, his grin wasn’t just playful—it was dangerous. “You love it,” he murmured, voice dropping an octave, making your heart skip a beat.

You didn’t flinch. Instead, you rolled your eyes, trying to keep control of the situation. “Oh, fuck off. The only thing I like is when you finally shut up.” You crossed your arms tighter, trying to distance yourself emotionally, but it was hard to ignore the proximity between you two, the tension hanging thick in the air.

He was close now, too close, and it was suffocating in the most unsettling way. His breath was warm against your skin, the space between you closing so much that you could almost taste the words on his lips before they even came. 

“Is that so?” His voice was low, teasing, his grin widening as his gaze dropped to your lips, lingering there just long enough to make you feel it.

You couldn’t help it—you gulped, the way he was looking at you making your pulse race, something deep inside you stirring against the cold front you were trying so hard to put up. “Yeah, that so,” you managed, but your voice had a tremor to it now, and you hated yourself for it.

He smiled, the kind of smile that could make you want to punch him and kiss him all at once. “Well, in that case,” he said, the words dragging as he leaned even closer, his breath ghosting over your ear, “I’m just gonna keep talking.” His voice was barely above a whisper, but it carried enough weight to send a shiver down your spine.

You couldn’t tell if you wanted to scream at him or kiss him.

You could feel his presence pressing in on you, the heat between you two almost unbearable, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe. The world outside of him seemed to vanish, the hum of the city, the weight of your thoughts, everything melting away until there was only the sound of your heart pounding in your ears. You knew you should pull away, should say something, anything, to break this tension, but the words wouldn’t come.

He watched you closely, his eyes locked onto yours, a hint of something unreadable flickering there—something playful, something dangerous, maybe both.

“You look like you’re about to say something,” he said, his voice thick with amusement.

You opened your mouth, trying to push past the lump in your throat, but it felt like the words were stuck. Instead, you just looked at him—really looked at him for the first time in what felt like forever. He was close, too close, but in that moment, it felt impossible to back away. He made you feel things you didn’t want to feel, things that you didn’t understand.

“I don’t wanna say anything,” you muttered, the words slipping out as a mix of frustration and something you refused to acknowledge.

“Yeah?” He raised an eyebrow, that devilish smirk curling on his lips.

You forced yourself to meet his gaze, but you didn’t say a word. You simply nodded, lips pressed together in a thin line, trying to hold onto some semblance of control.

He closed the gap between you, leaning in with deliberate slowness. You could feel the heat of his body inching closer, the soft scent of his cologne filling your senses, until his lips barely brushed against your cheek. The kiss was featherlight, teasing—infuriatingly so. It was enough to make your stomach twist with desire, but you refused to let it show. You wanted to press your thighs together, to feel that familiar ache between your legs, but you wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he was affecting you.

“Well, I have something to say,” his voice was low, rich with satisfaction as he lingered just inches from your skin. “I think… You’re not as immune to me as you like to pretend.”

The words sent a jolt through your chest, but you shook your head, pulling your hands up to his chest, your fingers pressing into the fabric of his shirt, then gliding slowly to his neck, tracing the line of his jaw before resting at the back of it. You felt his pulse under your fingertips, and your breath hitched.

“I don’t… I don’t pretend,” you said, your voice quieter, but the frustration bubbling underneath was unmistakable. “You’re just an idiot,” you continued, pressing your palms harder into his skin. “And so fucking frustrating.”

He let out a dark chuckle, the sound dripping with arrogance. “Look at you.” His hand reached up, brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face, his thumb grazing your cheek. “You’re getting all worked up. You want this, don’t you? I can see it. You’re practically begging me to fuck you right now with those eyes. Is that what you want, baby?”

Every nerve in your body screamed yes. You could feel your pulse racing, your skin burning as his words settled deep inside you. The ache between your legs was undeniable now, but your mind fought back. Your heart was pounding in your ears, screaming no. You couldn't let yourself fall for this again. You remembered the last time—the cold distance after everything had gotten too real, the way he’d pulled away, leaving you shattered. You couldn’t be left like that again. 

But then, the look on his face—those sharp eyes, glimmering with something dangerous. He looked so good, so fucking good, in that white suit that fit him like a second skin. The way it molded to his chest, the tightness around his biceps, made your breath catch in your throat. You couldn’t help it. You wanted to touch him, feel the strength of his muscles under your fingers, wanted to bite at his neck, press your lips to the smooth skin there and feel him shudder beneath you.

God, it was maddening. You hated how he made you feel so out of control, how every inch of him seemed to draw you in. Your body was betraying you, and you hated it.

But what about him? Did he feel the same pull? Did he burn for you the way you did for him, or was this just another game for him to play, another conquest to add to his long list? The uncertainty gnawed at you.

Rafe’s eyes never left you as you fought to suppress the desire stirring within you. But he knew it. He could see it in the way your breath hitched, in the way you couldn’t stop your hands from brushing against him, testing the limits, even as you pretended to resist. 

But something shifted in him. He straightened, his posture changing, the smug grin slipping ever so slightly as his gaze flickered to the entrance of the party.

It wasn’t just any glance—it was sharp, instinctive. He’d caught sight of someone familiar, someone whose presence immediately shifted the air in the room.

You followed his line of sight, your chest tightening as you noticed who it was: The Cameron family. Sarah, Wheezie, Rose, and Ward. Their arrival had a different weight, one that Rafe clearly felt deep in his bones. You saw the way his jaw clenched, the way his eyes darkened for just a moment, before he quickly masked it with a flash of that signature cocky smile.

Ward, tall and imposing in his crisp suit, moved with the sort of authority that always seemed to follow him. Rose, on his arm, was more subdued but equally elegant, her gaze sharp as she surveyed the crowd, clearly scanning for something or someone. Their eyes met Rafe’s across the room, and the tension in his body was palpable.

His hand, which had been resting lightly at your waist, now tightened, fingers pressing into the fabric of your dress in a way that made you wonder if he even noticed. But you noticed him. You noticed the subtle shift in his demeanor, the way he suddenly seemed aware of every movement, every gesture, every word spoken around him.

He cleared his throat, stepping back slightly from you, though his body remained rigid, still keeping you close. “I think my parents just walked in,” he said quietly, as though speaking more to himself than to you, but the edge in his voice was unmistakable.

You looked at him, the reality of the situation settling in. His family—his father, especially—was here, and suddenly everything felt different. The air seemed heavier. The playful banter between you both had shifted into something more guarded, more calculated.

“Yeah, I noticed,” you whispered.

Rafe took a slow breath, his eyes never leaving his parents as they moved further into the room, exchanging greetings with guests. He didn’t speak immediately, as if preparing himself for whatever role he was about to play in front of them. His jaw clenched again, but he quickly forced a smile back onto his face, turning to you.

“Let’s go say hello, yeah?” His voice was smoother now, though you could still sense the unease beneath the surface. It was almost like he was pulling back, retreating into the version of himself he showed them—controlled, perfect, everything his father demanded of him. “Is that okay with you?”

No.

You nodded, feeling the weight of his tension on your shoulders, but you followed him. The closer you got to his family, the more you could feel the pressure build. Rafe's movements were more deliberate now, like he was preparing to play his part in the family drama. You couldn’t help but notice how differently he held himself around them—like a man who knew he would never measure up, no matter how much he tried.

Rafe paused just before reaching them, throwing you a look that was both apologetic and protective. It was as if, for just a moment, he needed you to understand how much this moment mattered. But you weren’t sure if it was about impressing them or surviving the encounter with his family’s expectations. Whatever it was, you could feel it thick in the air, something unspoken but undeniable.

Rafe’s steps slowed as you reached his father, Ward. He was a towering figure, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, his presence seemingly taking over the entire space. Rose, his stepmother, stood slightly behind him, elegant and poised, her eyes a sharp contrast to Ward’s cool and calculating demeanor.

Rafe stopped just short of them, his hand still on your waist, but his stance had subtly shifted—he was guarded, unsure, like he was ready to retreat if the need arose.

“Dad,” Rafe greeted, his voice smooth but lacking its usual confidence. His posture was just a little too stiff, as if waiting for the inevitable judgment that would come with every interaction.

Ward's gaze lingered on Rafe for a beat longer than normal before he acknowledged him, his tone clipped. “Rafe,” he said, the smile on his face barely noticeable, more a polite curve of the lips than anything genuine. “You’re looking well.”

The words hung in the air, but they didn’t carry any warmth. It was a statement of fact rather than praise, and it made your skin prickle. You could feel Rafe tense beside you, his fingers tightening just a little, but he didn’t let it show. Instead, he gave a small, practiced smile and nodded. “Thanks, Dad.”

You remained silent for a moment, unsure of where to fit in, but Sarah, ever the warm presence, was the first to step forward. She flashed you a grin, her eyes already lighting up with recognition. “Hey, YN!” she said enthusiastically, her voice a welcome contrast to the tension in the air. "So good to see you again!"

"Hi, Sarah," you responded, your smile easing a little, feeling comforted by her energy. "It’s good to see you too."

She pulled you into a friendly hug, and you found yourself relaxing into it. Sarah had this easygoing charm about her, a lightness that made you forget the weight of the room for a moment. She was everything Rafe wasn’t—effortlessly kind, bubbly, and generous with her affection.

“Wheezie and I were just talking about you,” Sarah added, and you turned to find a petite, younger girl standing a few feet away.

Wheezie’s face lit up when she caught your gaze. “Hi. I’m Wheezie. It’s cool to meet you.”

You smiled at her. “Hi, Wheezie. I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you too.”

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, clearly nervous. “You’re a model, right? That’s so cool. I’ve seen your pictures in Vogue!”

You blinked in surprise, warmth spreading in your chest. “You have?”

“Yeah!” Wheezie nodded enthusiastically. “You’re so pretty, and your outfits are amazing. How did you even start doing that?”

Her genuine curiosity was disarming, and for a moment, you forgot the tension hanging in the air. You leaned slightly closer, your smile becoming more natural. “It’s a long story, but I’ll tell you sometime if you want.”

Wheezie’s face lit up. “Really? That’d be awesome.”

Rafe, who had been watching the interaction silently, finally spoke up, his voice tinged with amusement. “Wheezie, you’re gonna scare her off.”

Wheezie flushed, but she grinned up at her brother. “I’m just being friendly.”

“She’s fine,” you said quickly, shooting Wheezie a reassuring smile. “It’s nice to meet someone who’s actually interested in what I do.”

Rose cleared her throat, interrupting the light moment. “Oh, we’re interested in you, dear,” she said, her tone honeyed but with an edge of condescension. “Rafe’s been so secretive about you, it’s about time we got to know you better.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you apologized with a polite smile. “I’m here now, though.”

“Yes, you are,” Ward interjected, his gaze narrowing slightly. “Rafe mentioned your career. It must be… demanding.”

You nodded carefully. “It can be, but I enjoy it. I’ve worked hard to get where I am.”

Ward tilted his head, his expression unreadable. “And maintaining that image must be just as hard. I imagine you have to watch every calorie to stay in shape for your work. Must be exhausting.”

The words hit you like a sharp slap, your chest tightening as old insecurities clawed their way to the surface. You forced a neutral smile, but your nails dug into the palm of your hand to keep steady. “It’s part of the job,” you replied carefully, your voice steady despite the storm brewing inside you.

Rose waved a dismissive hand, her eyes flitting over you in a way that felt equally invasive. “Don’t listen to him, honey. You look perfectly healthy to me. Honestly, I’d kill to have your body.”

Her words were meant as a compliment, but they were worse than his. “Thank you,” you murmured, your voice quieter now.

Rafe stiffened beside you, his hand tightening slightly on your waist. “Alright, that’s enough,” he said, his tone firm, a warning laced beneath the words.

But Ward ignored him, his attention still on you. “We’re not saying anything wrong. She does look healthy… in a sickly way.” His smile was thin, and though the words were spoken lightly, there was an edge to them.

You forced another smile, but your composure was slipping. The weight of their attention, the veiled comments, the subtle dissection of your body—it was too much.

“I’m sorry,” you said abruptly, stepping back slightly. “Excuse me for a moment.”

The moment you stepped into the bathroom, the world outside seemed to dissolve. The faint hum of voices from the gathering became muffled as you locked the door and leaned against it, your chest heaving. You clutched your stomach, the ache inside more emotional than physical, as Ward’s and Rose’s comments echoed in your mind.

Your reflection in the mirror stared back, unkind and unforgiving. You pressed your trembling hands against the sink, breathing shallowly as the familiar sensation of panic crept up your throat.

No matter how far you thought you’d come, it was always there — lurking in the shadows, waiting for a moment of vulnerability. Your stomach churned violently, the pressure too much. You barely made it to the toilet before the wave overtook you.

Kneeling on the cold tile, you hated yourself for this relapse. Your body trembled as tears stung your eyes, the shame wrapping around you like a suffocating blanket. You knew better. Yet here you were, undone by a handful of careless words.

The door suddenly creaked open. Panic seized you as you tried to compose yourself, but it was too late.

“YN?” Rafe’s voice was low and tentative, laced with worry. He must’ve picked the lock.

You froze, your back to him, trying to will him away. “Go away, Rafe.”

He didn’t. Instead, he stepped inside, shutting the door softly behind him.

You heard the scuff of his shoes as he approached, but you couldn’t bring yourself to turn around. “Please,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “Just leave me alone.”

But then he was kneeling beside you, his presence warm and steady despite the storm raging inside you. His hand gently touched your back, and you flinched, but he didn’t pull away.

“I’m here,” he said simply, his tone quiet but firm. He reached out, gathering your hair and pulling it away from your face with a tenderness that made your heart ache. “You don’t have to say anything. Just let me help.”

The knot in your throat tightened, and a sob escaped before you could stop it. You covered your face with your hands, shaking your head. “I’m so pathetic,” you choked out, tears streaming down your cheeks. “I promised myself I’d never do this again. I’ve tried so hard to move on, to be better. But it’s always there. It’s always waiting for me to fail.”

He paused, his hand stilling for a moment before he spoke. “You’re not failing,” he said, his voice softer now. “You’re human. You’ve been through a lot, and you’re still standing. That’s not failing, YN. That’s surviving.”

His words hit you harder than you expected, and you finally turned to look at him. His blue eyes were fixed on you, full of a mix of anger and concern—not at you, but for you. He reached up, brushing a tear from your cheek with a gentleness that nearly broke you.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked carefully.

You hesitated, your walls instinctively rising. But something about the way he looked at you—without judgment, without pity—made you feel safe enough to let them down.

“It’s… it’s complicated,” you began, your voice shaky. “I’ve struggled with this for a long time. Since I was a teenager. Modeling didn’t cause it, but it made it worse. Everyone always has something to say about my body—it’s too thin, it’s too big, it’s never enough.” you swallowed hard, your throat burning. “And tonight… your dad, Rose… they just hit a nerve.”

Rafe’s jaw tightened, and you could see the anger flickering in his eyes. But he didn’t interrupt, letting you speak at your own pace.

“I thought I was past it,” you admitted, your voice breaking. “But it never really goes away. It just… quiets down. Until something like this happens.”

Rafe nodded slowly, his gaze never leaving yours. “I get it,” he said, surprising you. “Not in the same way, but I get it. The pressure, the expectations. Feeling like no matter what you do, it’s never enough.”

You stared at him, the rawness in his voice catching you off guard.

“I’m sorry for that,” you whispered, fresh tears spilling over. “And for what you saw.”

“Don’t apologize,” Rafe said firmly, his hand finding yours and squeezing gently. “You don’t have to apologize. Not to me. Not to anyone.”

His words cracked something open inside you, and the sobs came harder now, wracking your body. Rafe didn’t hesitate. He pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as you cried into his chest.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, his voice steady and soothing. “I’ve got you. I promise.”

After what felt like an eternity, your tears began to subside. You pulled back slightly, embarrassed by the mess you’d made of his shirt. “Sorry,” you mumbled, wiping at your face.

Rafe chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Don’t be. This shirt was ugly anyway.”

The small attempt at humor made you smile, even if it was faint. He stood, helping you to your feet, his hand steadying you as you wavered.

“You okay?” he asked, his gaze searching for yours.

You nodded, though you weren’t entirely sure. “I just… need a minute. Is that okay?”

Rafe hesitated, clearly reluctant to leave you alone. But after a moment, he nodded. “Alright… Take all the time you need. I’ll be right outside.”

As he stepped toward the door, you felt a pang of guilt. “Rafe?”

He turned back, his expression softening.

“Thank you,” you said quietly. “For… this.”

His lips curved into a small smile. “Don’t mention it.”

“Are you serious right now?” Rafe’s voice was sharp, cutting through the murmur of conversation like a knife. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Rafe—” Ward started, but his son didn’t let him finish.

“No, you listen to me,” he snapped, his anger palpable. “If you ever talk to her like that, we’re done. I mean it.”

Your heart stopped, and you moved closer, careful to stay out of sight.

“Rafe, calm down,” Rose’s voice said, her tone exasperated.

“No,” Rafe snapped. “I’m not calming down. Do you have any idea what you just did? What your comments did to her?”

There was a beat of silence before Ward spoke, his tone dismissive. “It was just a harmless observation. She’s a grown woman. She can handle it.”

“Harmless?” Rafe’s voice rose, trembling with fury. “You don’t know the first thing about her, and you sure as hell don’t get to say shit like that to her ever again.”

“Rafe—”

“No,” he cut Ward off, his voice firm and unyielding. “You don’t get to do this. Not to her. If you can’t show her some respect for once in your life, then don’t bother talking to her at all.”

The room fell silent, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air.

Your chest tightened, a swell of emotions rising as you listened to him defend you with such ferocity. For all his cocky bravado and sarcastic quips, Rafe had just shown you a side of himself you hadn’t expected.

A side that cared.

A side that would fight for you.

You stepped back, went back to the bathroom, giving him space to finish the conversation. But as you stood there, a small, genuine smile broke across your face.

When Rafe returned to the bathroom, his shoulders were tense, but his eyes softened when they landed on you. “Hey,” he said quietly, stepping inside and closing the door behind him.

“Hey,” you echoed, your voice trembling slightly.

“I’m sorry if I took too long,” he said, sitting beside you on the floor. “I had to take care of some—.”

“I heard you,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

“You heard me?” his brows furrowed. “Heard what?”

“What you said. To them. Ward and Rose.”

“Oh…” his eyes widened. “I’m sorry if you think I stepped a line. It just really pissed me off what they said about you and thought that if you were going to see them again, they should know their li—”

“You don’t need to apologize, Cameron,” you interrupted, a quiet laugh slipping past your lips, the sound easing the tension in his shoulders. “Thank you, though…”

His gaze softened, and for a moment, it felt like the world outside the room fell away. “Of course.”

He stood and extended a hand to you, palm open and steady. You hesitated for the briefest moment, not because you didn’t want to take it but because the gesture felt like more than it was. When your hand slipped into his, his fingers closed around yours.

You stood, brushing invisible creases from your saree and adjusting the edges with nervous precision. Rafe’s eyes lingered on you, watching the delicate way your fingers moved, the subtle rise and fall of your shoulders as you steadied yourself.

When you glanced up at him, offering a soft, grateful smile, something in his chest tightened, and he knew he was done for.

“Okay, let’s do this,” you said, your voice stronger now.

He nodded, but as you turned toward the door, he couldn’t stop himself from saying it, even if you wouldn’t hear it. “You’re worth it,” he whispered, the words low and raw, like they’d been pulled straight from his heart.

He stood there, hand still tingling from where yours had been, a storm of emotions churning inside him. His mind raced, his heart pounded, and every inch of him felt consumed by something he wasn’t ready to name.

chapter eleven.

[kaelidascope]

On one hand, I'm relieved to see that it isn't just me suffering in the engagement department whereas I used to get flooded with comments and the like every time I dropped something. It isn't the only reason why I've moved from fanfic work to original work, but it is part of it. The last round of engagement on the latest MM chapter was abysmal, and while I know it's not a reflection of my quality in writing, I kept beating myself up over the possibility that I took too long to update it and people gave up on it/forgot/fell out of love with my work because I as a creator was not performing good enough. It drove me into a bit of a depression for a while.

On the other hand, this is making me rethink my stance on never telling my favorite authors how much they have inspired me to take off with my writing career. This is going to get a little lengthy but I want to talk about it so bear with me here.

Closed circles know how much of an insane, unhinged fan I am of certain writers, yet I have never actually said a word to them. I think I left one comment on maybe two fics that went unanswered (which is fine. They're not active in the fandoms I'm in anymore and I'm just some guy out of probably hundreds all saying the same thing. They're not gonna reply to me) but apart from that, you wouldn't catch me dead actually admitting how much the works mean to me. But why?

I guess I was far too proud and too terrified of being let down if I exposed myself like that. Despite the fact that these authors were literal catalysts for borderline impossible feats I have done within the last year, WELL RECEIVED FEATS at that, I swore I'd never tell anyone how inspiring they were for me. (Unless a casual friendship has been established. I have had the tremendous honor to able to talk to some of my inspirations one on one but under incredibly lucky circumstances)

I had a scenario in my head that these were the cool kids, and if you ever got picked on at all for admiring anything, you know damn well you never tell the cool kids about your admiration. I was afraid that they'd take one look at the work that was inspired by theirs and laugh at it in their enclosed circles. I wasn't going to risk having my confidence crushed and lose the motivation to continue working on my projects by being a fan.

I know not all authors do this. Every time someone comes to me and tells me I've inspired them to be a better writer, I literally frame it in a collection of screenshots I have saved on a hard drive. Every. Single. Time. And I know anyone else would tell me that if the person I admire would actually be cruel enough to mock an up and coming writer, then they're not worth admiring. Which I agree with! But try telling that to sensitive little Kaeli that safeguards their interests with the fiery defensiveness of a feral bear on cocaine.

But then I see posts like this, and I put myself in their shoes. I don't know them. They could be a jackass but they could also be like me - someone who bases a lot of motivation for project completion based off of whether or not people even care to see it completed.

This is all a very long, round about away to say that who cares if the author you build a mini-shrine for in your brain thinks your cringe for liking their work? Odds are they probably need to hear that you liked it so much, it inspired you to do something with that feeling. We all need to hear it. They inspired you and now you're making something that will inspire someone else. To be a creator is to share that passion everywhere you go. There's nothing cringe about it.

A writer friend told me something that broke my heart a little bit today; they're going to quit publishing their fanfic.

My instant thought was that they had been trolled or attacked or that something terrible had happened in their life because this person is so passionate about their writing. It wasn't any of that. Engagement with their works has been going down, as it has for many of us. Comments are like gold dust a lot of the time, and just looking through the historical comment counts on old fics on ao3 demonstrates this trend very clearly. It was not simply the comments dropping off which caused them to decide to stop posting, however.

My friend came across a discord server for their fandom (I should point out here that their fandom interest and mine diverged a couple of years ago, we stay in touch but don't currently read each other's posts because I'm not into their fandom and they would rather gouge their eyes out with a wooden spoon than read anything Star Wars) and specifically to share fic in that fandom. They joined, because we all love a good fic rec, only to discover that their latest multichapter fic, which has almost no comments and very few kudos, is being hotly discussed in this server as one of the best stories ever. Not one of these people has bothered to say this to them on the fic. When they asked, none of participants could see the point in telling the author of the fic they apparently loved so much that they love it.

This discovery has absolutely destroyed my friend's love of sharing fic. They share because they love seeing other people's enjoyment, and fic writers do that through comments and kudos/reblogs/likes because we don't get paid. There is no literary critic writing a blog post/article about how amazing the story is for us to copy and keep/frame. There is no money from royalties. All we have are the words of the people reading our works.

Those people on that server could have taken five minutes of the time they spent gushing about how amazing my friend's story was to other people and used it to tell the one person guaranteed to want to hear that praise how much they loved it. They could have taken a moment to express their opinion to the person who spent hours upon hours plotting, writing, editing, and posting those chapters. Instead, they deprived my friend of thing that keeps them sharing their writing, and in the process have killed their love of it. My friend now feels used and unmotivated.

I won't be sharing a link to their fic, they said I could share their experience but not their identity. I know they plan to post one final chapter. I know they intend to express their hurt at being excluded from the praise for the thing they created, and I know they intend to announce that as a consequence they will not be posting for a long while, if at all.

So please, I beg you, don't hide your love of a story from the writer. It's just about the only thing we have.

[littleprinces]

Day 29: BWC

Dayeon x OC

Kinkvember Day 29

Dayeon, the lead vocalist of the popular K-pop girl group "Kep1er" was no stranger to the spotlight. With her captivating voice and stunning visuals, she had a massive fanbase worldwide. Today, however, she was not on stage but rather enjoying a quiet afternoon in a quaint café in Seoul. She was sipping her latte, watching the world outside through the window, when she noticed him. A tall, muscular American man with short blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. He was new to the city, and his eyes scanned the café with curiosity. Dayeon couldn't help but feel drawn to him.

"Excuse me," Dayeon said, standing up and walking toward him. "Are you new here?"

He turned to her, a warm smile spreading across his face. "Yes, I am. Just moved from New York. You're Dayeon, right? From Kep1er?"

Dayeon nodded, surprised. "Yes, that's me. And you are?"

"Jake," he introduced himself. "Nice to meet you, Dayeon."

A few days later, they met again at a local art gallery. Jake had a keen interest in art, and Dayeon found it fascinating to learn about his perspectives on various paintings and sculptures. As they strolled through the gallery, their hands brushed against each other, and Dayeon felt a spark.

"You have very soft hands," Jake commented, his voice low. "It's unusual for someone so famous to be so... touchable."

Dayeon smiled, her cheeks flushing slightly. "I'm glad you think so. Not many people get to see this side of me."

Their conversations grew deeper and more intimate over the following weeks. They shared stories, dreams, and fears. One evening, as they sat in Jake's apartment, Dayeon noticed the tension between them. She could see the desire in his eyes, and it mirrored her own feelings.

"Jake," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "I want you."

Jake leaned in, his lips meeting hers in a soft, gentle kiss. It deepened, their tongues exploring each other's mouths. Dayeon moaned softly, her hands running through his short blonde hair.

"You're so beautiful, Dayeon," Jake whispered against her lips. "I've been wanting to do this since the first moment I saw you."

Dayeon led him to the bedroom, her heart pounding with anticipation. She started undressing him, her fingers tracing the muscles of his chest. Jake, in turn, unzipped her dress, letting it fall to the floor. He took a step back to admire her in her lacy black bra and thong.

"God, you're perfect," he murmured, his eyes drinking her in.

Dayeon smiled, her confidence growing. "And you're so big," she said, her gaze dropping to his bulge.

Jake chuckled, stepping closer to her. "Is that right?"

Dayeon nodded, her fingers reaching for his belt. "Let me see."

She unbuckled his belt and pulled down his pants, revealing his large, thick cock. Dayeon gasped, her eyes widening. "Wow," she breathed. "That's big."

Jake laughed, his cock twitching in response to her words. "And you're about to find out just how big."

Dayeon knelt down, her hand wrapping around his shaft. She licked the tip, tasting the pre-cum that had gathered there. Jake groaned, his hands going to her hair.

"Fuck, Dayeon," he moaned. "That feels so good."

She took him into her mouth, her head bobbing up and down. Jake watched her, his breath coming in short gasps. "You look so hot doing that," he said, his voice strained. "But I want to fuck you. I want to feel your pussy around my cock."

Dayeon stood up, her lips glistening with his precum. "I want that too," she said, her voice husky.

Jake picked her up, carrying her to the bed. He laid her down, his body covering hers. He kissed her deeply, his hands roaming her body. He sucked on her neck, making her squirm with pleasure.

"You taste so good," he murmured against her skin.

He moved down her body, his tongue tracing her collarbone, her breasts. He took one nipple into his mouth, sucking and nibbling on it. Dayeon moaned, her hands gripping the sheets.

"Yes," she gasped. "More."

Jake moved to her other breast, giving it the same attention. He then continued his journey down her stomach, his fingers hooking into her thong and pulling it off. He spread her legs, his eyes taking in her glistening pussy.

"Beautiful," he said, his voice hoarse.

He leaned in, his tongue licking her from her entrance to her clit. Dayeon cried out, her hips bucking. Jake repeated the motion, his tongue circling her clit before dipping back into her pussy.

"Oh god, Jake," Dayeon moaned. "That feels so good."

Jake continued to lick and suck her, his fingers joining in. He slipped two fingers into her, curling them to hit her G-spot. Dayeon screamed, her orgasm crashing over her.

"Fuck, Jake," she panted. "I need your cock inside me."

Jake smiled, his cock throbbing with need. He positioned himself at her entrance, his cockhead nudging her. Dayeon bit her lip, her eyes meeting his.

"Are you ready for this, Dayeon?" Jake asked, his voice low.

Dayeon nodded, her breath hitching. "Yes," she said. "I'm ready."

Jake pushed into her, his cock stretching her. Dayeon moaned, her hands going to his hips. "Ouch, yes," she said. "You're so big."

Jake grinned, his cock pulsing inside her. "And you feel so tight."

He started moving, his cock sliding in and out of her. Dayeon met his thrusts, her body moving in sync with his. Their moans filled the room, their bodies slapping together.

"Yes, Jake," Dayeon panted. "Faster."

Jake complied, his pace quickening. He leaned down, his lips meeting hers. They kissed deeply, their tongues clashing. Dayeon's nails dug into his back, her body tensing.

"I'm close," she gasped.

"Me too," Jake groaned. "Come with me, Dayeon."

He thrust into her harder, faster. Dayeon screamed, her orgasm ripping through her. Jake followed, his cock pulsing inside her as he came.

"Fuck, Dayeon," he panted, his forehead resting on hers. "That was incredible."

They stayed like that for a moment, their bodies entwined. Then, Jake rolled off her, his cock slipping out of her. Dayeon smiled, her fingers tracing his chest.

"That was amazing," she said. "I want to do it again."

Jake laughed, his arms wrapping around her. "Any time you want, Dayeon. Any time you want."

[rootedinrevisions]

What's Mine

SUMMARY: After months of secretly seeing each other, you and Tyler find yourselves caught between professional boundaries and personal desires. When a flirtatious rival pushes Tyler's jealousy to the surface, he claims you in a way that leaves no doubt about your relationship status-to you or anyone else.

A/N: sorry that these requests are taking so long! I appreciate everyone's patience as I try to juggle writing with Thank you to the person who sent the request for this one in. This one came from the prompt “I’m not the jealous type, but what’s mine is mine.” I've had this one mostly done for a while (like a week or so) but the scene at the end just wasn't coming together the way I wanted it to. But I think I'm finally happy with the final result. Hope you like it! xx

WARNINGS: 18+ MINORS DNI. Cursing (I assume, I'm not positive though). Smut (P in V, Unprotected)

WORD COUNT: 5.4k

TAG LIST: IN COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell: Himself (RPF), Characters He's Played

Twisters: Tyler Owens, Boone, Scott, Javi

Top Gun: Maverick: Rooster, Hangman, Bob

Marvel/MCU: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers

WWE/Wrestling: Cody Rhodes, Corey Graves, Damian Priest, Drew McIntyre, Finn Balor, Jimmy Uso, Jey Uso, Kevin Owens, L.A. Knight, Pat McAfee, Roman Reigns, Seth Rollins (if there is someone you're thinking of from WWE and they aren't on the list feel free to ask! There are so many guys on the roster that these were the ones that came to mind.)

The bar was alive with energy, the hum of conversation and laughter mixing with the low strains of a country tune from the jukebox. Boone, Dani, Dexter, and Lily were engrossed in a heated pool game, their competitive banter rising above the noise. You and Tyler had claimed a small table near the edge of the room, tucked away just enough to let you watch the chaos unfold.

Tyler sat back in his chair, nursing a Budweiser. His long fingers tapped idly against the glass bottle, his eyes scanning the room with the kind of quiet intensity he always carried. You were close enough to feel his presence, that steady, grounding calm he exuded without even trying. But far enough apart to not draw suspicion from the rest of the team.

Your drink was nearly gone, and you stood, brushing your hand lightly over his shoulder. “I’m getting another. You want one?”

He glanced up at you, his lips quirking into a faint smile. “Nah, I’m good. Thanks, darlin’.”

You nodded and made your way toward the bar. It was busy, and a line was forming as people crowded to get the bartender’s attention. You leaned against the counter, letting out a soft sigh as you waited.

“Hell of a storm today, huh?”

The voice came from your right, smooth and friendly. You turned to find a man standing beside you, his elbow resting on the bar. He was tall, with a confident grin and a storm-chaser logo stitched onto his jacket—a rival team.

“Yeah,” you replied, keeping your tone polite but neutral. “Definitely one to remember.”

“Bet you’ve got some good footage from it,” he said, his grin widening as he leaned in slightly. “You’re with Owens’ team, right?”

You nodded, not bothering to hide the pride in your voice. “That’s right.”

“Lucky guy,” he said, his gaze lingering just a little too long. “I mean, you guys have a solid team. And... well, looks like you’re not just good at chasing storms.”

You raised an eyebrow, your smile tight. “Appreciate the compliment.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught movement—Tyler. He was still at the table, but his body language had shifted. His posture was no longer relaxed; he sat forward slightly, his fingers wrapped tightly around the neck of his beer bottle. His sharp green eyes were locked on you, his expression unreadable but intense.

The man at the bar didn’t seem to notice. He continued, his voice low and smooth. “If you ever get tired of running with Owens, maybe you should give our team a shot. We’ve always got room for someone like you.”

You let out a dry laugh. “Thanks but I’ll pass. I’m pretty happy where I am.”

The man didn’t back off, his grin turning slightly smug. “Well, if you ever change your mind—or just feel like grabbing a drink sometime—”

“Thanks, but no thanks,” you cut him off firmly, turning back to the bar as the bartender handed you your drink.

You glanced over your shoulder toward Tyler. He was still watching, his jaw tight, the muscle ticking in his cheek. His eyes flicked briefly to the man beside you before returning to yours. There was no mistaking the tension radiating from him.

You gave the man a polite nod before stepping away, leaving him at the bar as you made your way back to Tyler.

As you approached, Tyler’s gaze never left you. He set his beer down, his fingers drumming once against the table before he stood.

“Everything good?” he asked, his voice casual, but there was an edge to it—a quiet undertone that only you would catch.

“Fine,” you replied with a small smile, though you couldn’t resist teasing him just a little. “Why do you ask?”

He shrugged, his expression neutral, but his eyes gave him away. “No reason.”

You took a sip of your drink, watching him over the rim of the glass. His attention briefly flicked past you, toward the bar where the man still lingered. Tyler’s jaw tightened again, and he looked back at you, his gaze steady.

You raised an eyebrow, fighting the urge to smile. “You sure? Because you look like you’ve got something on your mind.”

Tyler didn’t answer right away. Instead, he stepped closer, his hand brushing lightly against your lower back as he leaned in. “Let’s dance,” he said, his voice low and firm.

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift. “Dance?”

“Yeah,” he said, already guiding you toward the dance floor. His hand stayed on your back, the contact warm and steady as he maneuvered you through the crowd.

The dance floor was dimly lit, strings of lights crisscrossing overhead and casting a warm glow over the couples swaying to the music. The song was slow and soft, a welcome contrast to the energy of the bar. Tyler stopped just at the edge of the dance floor, turning to face you.

“Here?” you asked, feigning nonchalance even as your heart gave a little leap at the intent in his eyes.

“Here,” he confirmed, sliding his hands to your waist.

He pulled you closer, the motion smooth and confident, and suddenly the crowded bar felt a lot smaller. You placed your hands on his shoulders, your fingers brushing against the soft, worn fabric of his flannel. The scent of him—faint cologne, beer, and the outdoors—wrapped around you, grounding you in the moment.

The two of you moved together, the rhythm of the song dictating the slow, deliberate steps. Tyler’s grip on your waist tightened slightly, his thumb brushing against the hem of your shirt where it met your skin. His other hand rested lightly on your back, keeping you pressed against him.

But there was something in the way he held you tonight—something different. His movements were just a little firmer, his grip a little more possessive. You felt it in the tension radiating from him, in the way his eyes stayed locked on yours.

“You’re tense,” you teased, tilting your head to study him.

“I’m fine,” he said, his voice a little too even, his expression unreadable.

Your lips quirked into a small smile. “You sure? Because you’ve been glaring at the bar like it owes you money.”

That earned a soft huff of laughter from him, but he didn’t deny it. Instead, his gaze flicked past you, just for a moment. Curious, you glanced over your shoulder and spotted the storm chaser from earlier still lingering at the bar, his eyes darting toward you and Tyler on the dance floor. When you turned back to Tyler, his jaw was tight again, his green eyes darker than usual.

“Oh my God,” you said, the realization dawning. A grin spread across your face. “You’re jealous.”

His lips twitched, but he didn’t smile. “No, I’m not.”

“You so are,” you teased, leaning in just a little closer. “You’ve been staring him down ever since I got back.”

Tyler’s hand on your waist slid a fraction higher, pulling you tighter against him. His voice dropped, low and rough. “I’m not the jealous type,” he said, his eyes locking on yours, “but what’s mine is mine. And I didn’t like how he was looking at what’s mine.”

Your breath caught at the intensity in his tone, but you weren’t about to let him off the hook so easily. “What’s yours?” you asked, your voice light but laced with challenge. "Not sure I know what you mean."

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, his hand slid up your back, his other hand combing up and his thumb brushing along your jawline. The touch was intimate, deliberate. “You know exactly what I mean,” he murmured, his voice just loud enough for you to hear.

You smiled, though your heart was pounding. “Do I? Because last I checked, there’s no label on this... whatever this is. We’re just keeping things casual, remember?”

His eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of amusement breaking through his tension. “You’re pushing your luck.”

“Am I?” you countered, tilting your head as if to test him. “Because I’m thinking maybe I’ll let him buy me my next drink. He seemed nice. Even offered to let me ride with him if I want.”

Tyler’s grip on you tightened, his jaw clenching visibly. “You better watch that mouth of yours,” he warned, his voice low and steady, “before it gets you into trouble.”

You couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face. Leaning in closer, you let your hand rest on his chest, your fingers brushing over the soft fabric of his flannel. The touch was casual enough to appear innocent, but the way his eyes darkened told you he didn’t take it that way.

“What kind of trouble?” you asked softly, your voice teasing but edged with genuine curiosity.

Tyler’s lips twitched into a small, almost dangerous smile. He leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. “If you keep running that little mouth of yours,” he said, his voice low and deliberate, “I’m gonna take you against the nearest surface I can find. And trust me, darlin’, I’ll make sure everyone—including him—knows exactly who you belong to. So unless you want us both taking a ride for indecent exposure tonight, I'd suggest you knock it off.”

A shiver ran down your spine, his words leaving you momentarily speechless. Before you could recover, the song shifted, transitioning into a faster tempo. Tyler pulled back, the satisfied glint in his eyes unmistakable as he saw the look on your face.

He grinned, spinning you out in a smooth twirl under his arm before pulling you back against him. His confidence was infuriatingly attractive, and you couldn’t help but smile despite yourself.

And then, without warning, he dipped you low, his hand steady at your back as he leaned in and kissed you. The kiss was firm and unapologetic, a silent claim that left no room for doubt to anyone looking.

When he pulled back, his hand still cradling your back, you blinked up at him, your breath uneven. His gaze softened slightly, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips.

“So,” he said, his voice quieter now but no less firm. “Are you done being a brat, or do I need to make things even more official?”

You laughed softly, your hand sliding up to the back of his neck. “I don’t know,” you teased, still catching your breath. “I kind of like seeing you jealous.”

Tyler’s hand stayed firmly on your back as he guided you off the dance floor, weaving through the clusters of people. You were still reeling from the kiss—your lips tingling, your heart racing. His confidence had left you breathless, but there was also something grounding about his presence, his solid grip on you as though letting go wasn’t an option.

As you reached your table at the edge of the bar, Tyler pulled you into a quieter corner where the music softened to background noise. His hand lingered on your waist, his thumb brushing idly over your hip as if staking his claim.

“Subtle,” you teased, leaning against the wall. “You think that was enough for him to get the message?”

Tyler’s lips twitched into a small smirk, his green eyes glittering with amusement. “Don't care. I wasn’t doing it for him,” he said, his tone low and deliberate.

For a moment, you forgot the noise of the bar, the crowd, and even the guy who had been flirting with you earlier. All you could focus on was Tyler—his steady gaze, the way his hand still rested on your hip, and the unspoken promise in the way he stood so close to you.

“So, what was that all about then?” you asked, tilting your head, your voice softer now.

Tyler leaned in slightly, his free hand bracing against the wall beside your head. The proximity was intoxicating, his warmth seeping into your skin.

“I told you,” he murmured. “What’s mine is mine. I don’t care who knows it.”

Your heart did a little flip at his words, but you weren’t ready to let him off the hook just yet. “But we're still not official, though,” you pointed out, your tone teasing.

Tyler exhaled a soft laugh, shaking his head. “You really don’t let up, do you?”

“Not when I want something,” you shot back, your eyes glinting with challenge.

Tyler pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his hand resting on the side of your face as he caressed your jaw. “You want official? Fine,” he said, his lips curling into a smirk, but his eyes held something more—something tender.

Tyler leaned in, his forehead brushing yours as he lowered his voice to a near whisper. “Call me whatever you want—boyfriend, lover, or just Tyler—but as long as you call me yours, that’s all I care about.” His thumb traced the line of your lips, and the weight of his words settled around you like a promise.

Before you could respond, his lips were on yours again, fierce and tender all at once. He kissed you slowly, his mouth lingering over yours, as if sealing the words he’d just spoken with a kiss that spoke louder than anything else. His hand cradled your face, his thumb gently stroking your cheek as he pulled back just enough to look into your eyes.

Tyler’s lips pulled away from yours, but his forehead stayed pressed against yours as he looked into your eyes, that mischievous spark returning to his gaze. He traced his thumb gently over your cheek, as though savoring the moment.

“So,” he said, a teasing smirk curling at the corner of his mouth, “was that official enough for you, or are you gonna make me actually say it?”

You tilted your head, matching his grin, letting your fingers lightly graze the back of his neck as you gave him a playful challenge. “I think I kind of want to hear you say it,” you teased, your voice soft but laced with amusement.

Tyler sighed dramatically, his eyes rolling with mock exasperation, but it was clear he was enjoying this little moment just as much as you were. He leaned back slightly, a chuckle escaping him as he gave you a mock-serious look.

“Darlin’,” he began, his voice dripping with affection and a touch of humor. “Will you please be my girlfriend?”

You burst into laughter, the sound light and carefree, as Tyler grinned at you, clearly pleased with himself. His hands found your waist again, pulling you closer as his lips quirked upward.

“See?” he teased, his hands sliding down to rest on your hips. “I sounded ridiculous, didn't I?”

You smiled up at him, feeling the warmth of the moment settle in. "I don't know...I kind of liked it,” you replied, a hint of sweetness in your voice. “Thank you. I know you probably think it was stupid, but it was nice to hear.”

Tyler leaned in, brushing his lips over your forehead in a soft, affectionate kiss. “Darlin', I'll do whatever makes you happy. If that means saying it, then I'm happy to do it,” he murmured, his arms wrapping around you as he pulled you closer again.

Your chest tightened at the honesty in his tone, and for a moment, all the teasing and banter fell away. This was real—so much more real than you’d expected it to be when the two of you started this quiet, undefined thing.

The moment hung between you, charged and intimate, until the sound of laughter from your team broke the spell. You glanced over Tyler’s shoulder to see Dani and Boone watching you from the pool table, their expressions ranging from amused to downright smug.

“Looks like the cat’s out of the bag,” you said, your lips quirking into a small smile.

Tyler turned to follow your gaze, his hand dropping back to your waist. “Good,” he said simply. Then, louder, so the rest of the team could hear, he added, “Yeah, we’re together. Anyone got a problem with that?”

The table erupted into laughter and a chorus of good-natured teasing, but no one seemed surprised. Dani shot you a knowing look, and Boone raised his beer in a mock toast.

You rolled your eyes, laughing softly as you turned back to Tyler. “You're as subtle as a freight train,” you teased.

He grinned, leaning down to brush a kiss against your temple. “You love it,” he said, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

And he was right—you did.

As the night eased into a comfortable rhythm, the initial teasing about you and Tyler began to fade—well, mostly. The team had always been a tight-knit group, and now that the two of you were officially “out,” it seemed like fair game for them to poke fun.

Dani was the first to pounce, sidling up to your table after winning yet another round of pool. She leaned her cue against the wall and smirked. “So, is this why you always rode shotgun with Tyler on every drive?” she asked, waggling her eyebrows.

Boone joined in, raising his beer. “Oh, I get it now. ‘I’ll navigate.’ ‘I’m the best with maps.’ Sure, that’s why,” he said, making exaggerated air quotes.

Your face burned, but you couldn’t help laughing. “I am good with maps,” you said defensively, though the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you.

Dexter, usually the quiet one, chimed in with a rare grin. “Guess that explains all the ‘extra stops’ you two needed on those long drives. Thought it was weird how often you needed coffee breaks.”

You groaned, hiding your face behind your hands. “Oh my god, you guys are impossible.”

Tyler, on the other hand, was taking it all in stride. He leaned back in his chair, his arm draped casually around your shoulders, the very picture of smug confidence. “Jealousy’s a bad look on y’all,” he said, his lips twitching into a smirk.

Dani rolled her eyes. “Please. We’re not jealous. Just annoyed it took you this long to admit what we all already knew.”

Boone nodded in agreement. “Seriously, the way you two looked at each other—like a damn Nicholas Sparks movie. We were just waiting for the dramatic kiss in the rain.”

Tyler grinned, his fingers brushing lightly against your arm. “What can I say? I like to keep things interesting.”

You shot him a look, though you couldn’t hide your own smile. “Interesting is one word for it,” you muttered, leaning into his side despite yourself.

As the team’s attention shifted back to their game, you stole a moment to glance up at Tyler. His green eyes met yours, and for a second, the noise of the bar faded away. He gave you a small, almost private smile, the kind that made your heart skip a beat.

When it was finally time to call it a night, the group began gathering their things. Dani slung her bag over her shoulder and paused by the door, looking back at the two of you with a mischievous glint in her eye. “Hey, lovebirds,” she called out, her voice carrying over the music. “Try to keep it down tonight, okay? Some of us would like to actually get some sleep for once.”

Your cheeks went bright red as the rest of the team burst into laughter. “Dani!” you protested, your voice high with embarrassment as you hid your face in Tyler’s shoulder.

Tyler, however, was completely unfazed. In fact, he looked downright pleased with himself. He tightened his arm around you, giving the group a lazy grin. “No promises,” he said, his tone teasing but dripping with that cocky charm you both loved and hated.

The laughter grew louder as you groaned again, playfully smacking his chest. With his arm still wrapped around you, Tyler guided you out of the bar, his hand resting securely on your hip as you stepped into the cool night air. The laughter and teasing from your teammates still echoed in your ears, but you couldn’t stop smiling.

“Think they’ll ever let us live this down?” you asked, glancing up at him.

Tyler chuckled, his eyes sparkling in the dim light. “Not a chance,” he said, pulling you closer. “But as long as I’ve got you, I don’t really care.”

You smiled, resting your head against his shoulder as the two of you walked toward his truck.

The drive back to the motel was quiet, save for the hum of the engine and the occasional murmur of a country station playing on the radio. Tyler had one hand on the wheel, the other resting lazily on your knee, his thumb idly brushing over the fabric of your jeans. Every so often, he’d glance over at you, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth like he couldn’t help himself.

But your mind was racing, and as much as you wanted to let yourself get lost in the warmth of his touch, you couldn’t shake the doubt creeping in. Was what happened back at the bar real, or was it just Tyler getting caught up in the moment?

When you pulled into the motel parking lot, the tension was still simmering beneath your skin. Tyler parked the truck, turned off the engine, and hopped out, coming around to open your door like he always did. You followed him up the stairs to your room, his hand resting lightly on the small of your back.

The second the door clicked shut behind you, you turned to face him. “So…” you started, your voice careful, testing the waters.

Tyler paused, halfway through pulling his flannel shirt off. He tilted his head at you, a playful smirk teasing his lips. “So?” he repeated, his tone light.

You crossed your arms, shifting on your feet. “What happened back there… at the bar,” you said, avoiding his gaze. “Was that real? Or are you gonna wake up tomorrow and tell the team it was all some big joke? Just you messing around for some laughs?”

The question hung in the air, and for a moment, you regretted saying anything. But then Tyler stepped closer, his flannel discarded on the back of a chair, leaving him in just his plain white t-shirt that clung to his frame in all the right ways.

“Darlin’,” he said softly, his voice steady, “do I look like I’m joking to you?”

You glanced up at him, searching his face for any hint of hesitation. But all you saw was certainty.

“I meant every word I said tonight,” Tyler continued, his hands sliding to your waist, pulling you a step closer. “You’re mine. And I don’t care who knows it.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the intensity in his voice. “But… you said we needed to keep things low-key,” you reminded him, though your voice wavered.

“That was before,” he said simply, his thumb brushing along your side. “Before I realized how much I hated watchin’ someone else try to take what’s mine.”

The possessiveness in his voice sent a thrill down your spine, but it was the tenderness in his eyes that made you melt.

“Tyler…” you whispered, but whatever you were going to say next was lost as he leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was anything but gentle.

It started slow, deliberate, like he was savoring the moment. But as you kissed him back, threading your fingers through his hair, it deepened, his grip on your waist tightening as if he couldn’t get close enough.

Tyler walked you backward until your legs hit the edge of the bed. His hands were everywhere—your waist, your hips, the curve of your jaw—each touch leaving a trail of heat in its wake. When he finally pulled back, his breathing was heavy, his forehead resting against yours.

“Does that feel like I’m jokin’?” he murmured, his voice rough and low.

You shook your head, your fingers still tangled in his hair. “No,” you whispered, your lips brushing against his.

He grinned, that familiar cocky charm flashing through for just a second. “Good,” he said, leaning down to kiss you again.

The kiss deepened as Tyler pressed you back onto the bed, his hands trailing down your sides with a possessiveness that sent shivers through you. His touch wasn’t rushed—no, Tyler Owens was deliberate, savoring every moment as though he had all the time in the world to prove his point.

When he pulled back, his lips were swollen, his hair slightly mussed from your fingers. The sight of him like this—raw, unguarded—made your heart race. He sat back on his knees, his hands moving to the hem of your shirt. He tugged it up and then peeled it up over your head, tossing it aside carelessly. His hands roamed your bare skin, his touch warm and grounding, but his eyes were what made you feel like you were the only person in the world.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his voice roughened by desire. His thumb traced along the edge of your bra, just barely brushing your skin. “All mine.”

His words sent heat coursing through you, and you couldn’t help but arch into his touch. Tyler leaned down, his lips brushing the column of your throat.

“Every inch of you,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin, “belongs to me.”

He kissed his way down, his lips teasing, his hands skillfully finding the clasp of your bra and unhooking it with ease. As he slid the straps from your shoulders, his gaze was reverent, almost awed.

“My girl,” he said, his voice low. His hands moved to your waist again, hooking into the band of your jeans.

As the cool air hit your skin, you bit your lip, trying to stifle the sound that threatened to escape. Tyler noticed immediately, his sharp gaze flicking up to meet yours. His head tilted slightly, and his lips curled into a smirk that sent a wave of both heat and embarrassment through you.

“None of that,” he said, his voice firm but teasing. His thumb brushed your bottom lip, coaxing it free from your teeth. “They all know now, sweetheart. No need to hide.”

Your eyes widened, and you gave him a look that was part incredulous, part exasperated. “Tyler, we can’t …what if we get a noise complaint!”

He chuckled, the sound deep and rich as his hands slid down to rest on your hips, his thumbs tracing slow, maddening circles.

“I don’t care about a noise complaint,” he said, leaning down until his lips were barely an inch from yours. “The team knows. Hell, everyone at the bar knows. But now…” His smirk widened, his voice dropping to a gravelly whisper. “Now it’s time every chaser in this motel knows who you belong to.”

“Tyler,” you started, but before you could get another word out, his mouth was on yours again, silencing your protest. His kiss was commanding, his hands sliding over your body in a way that left no room for doubt about his intentions. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes blazing with something primal.

“Now,” he said, his hand moving to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over your flushed skin. “Who do you belong to?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but before you could, he shifted, his lips finding that sensitive spot just below your ear. His tongue flicked against your skin, and the combination of his touch and his words sent a bolt of pleasure straight through you.

“Tyler,” you moaned, his name spilling from your lips before you could stop yourself.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to look at you, that infuriatingly smug smirk firmly in place. “That’s right, baby,” he said, his voice like a low growl. “Say it again.”

You glared at him, your face heating with both embarrassment and arousal, but the challenge in his eyes only spurred you on. “You,” you said breathlessly, your voice trembling with need. “I belong to you.”

His grin softened slightly, turning into something warmer, something that made your chest ache. He leaned down, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your lips, and when he pulled back, his hand slid to the small of your back, holding you close.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured, and the possessiveness in his voice was tempered by an unmistakable tenderness.

As he kissed you again, deeper this time, your earlier doubts and insecurities melted away. Tyler wasn’t just claiming you—he was showing you, in every touch and every word, that he meant it.

Tyler’s hands moved over your body with a slow reverence, his touch igniting sparks wherever his fingertips lingered. The playful smirk that had been on his face earlier softened into something else—something deeper. His eyes locked on yours, his gaze steady and intense as if he wanted to commit every detail of this moment to memory.

He finished undressing you as he slid your panties agonizingly slow down your legs, letting them fall away as his hands brushed your hips. The air felt charged like you were both standing on the edge of something bigger than either of you could name.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, his voice husky but carrying a weight of sincerity that made your chest tighten.

Your hand found its way to his face, fingers brushing the sharp line of his jaw. “Tyler…” you whispered, but you couldn’t find the words to finish. The look in his eyes—unwavering and full of something unspoken—was undoing you.

He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then your temple, and then the tip of your nose. Each kiss felt like a promise, slow and deliberate. His hands framed your face as he kissed you fully again, his lips moving against yours with a tenderness that took your breath away.

He shifted, guiding your body beneath his as he shed the last of his clothing, his movements unhurried but purposeful. The heat of his skin against yours was electric, but it was the way he looked at you—like you were the only thing in the world that mattered—that had your heart pounding.

Tyler paused for a moment, his weight braced above you, his forehead resting against yours. His hand brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his thumb grazing your cheek. 

“I need you to know,” he said, his voice low but steady. “This isn’t just…” He hesitated, searching for the right words. “This isn’t just about wanting to fuck you. It’s more than that.”

Your breath hitched at his words, the raw vulnerability in them wrapping around you like a protective cocoon. You reached up, your hand tangling in his hair as you pulled him down into a kiss, your lips conveying everything you couldn’t put into words.

When he finally started to push inside you, the moment felt like time had stopped. His movements were slow, measured, as if he were afraid of rushing it. This wasn’t like the other times you’d been with Tyler before. Every time before had felt like it was just physical. Practically ripping clothes off of each other and hot and heated kisses him getting inside of you as fast as he could.

But this time…this time his touches were just a little softer. His kisses were just a little deeper. And the way he was holding you, like he was cherishing you made you swoon.

As he moved with you, his hands roamed your body. He murmured your name like a prayer, each syllable dripping with affection. And when your hand gripped his shoulder, your nails digging slightly into his skin, he leaned down to kiss you again, his lips lingering as if he couldn’t bear to pull away.

You couldn’t stop the small sounds that escaped your lips, your body responding to his in ways that felt like second nature. But it wasn’t just physical—there was something so much deeper in the way he held you, the way his hand laced with yours, fingers intertwining as though he needed to feel connected to every part of you.

It wasn’t long before the tension building between you both crested, your body trembling in his arms as your climax washed over you. Tyler held you close, whispering soothing words in your ear. When he followed moments later, his face buried in the crook of your neck, the quiet groan that escaped his lips sent another shiver down your spine.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, your breathing the only sound in the room. Tyler finally shifted, rolling to his side but pulling you with him so that you stayed nestled against his chest. His arms wrapped around you, holding you tightly as though letting go was not an option.

He pressed a kiss to your hair, his lips lingering there as he murmured, “I meant it, you know. You’re mine.”

You looked up at him, your hand resting against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “And you’re mine,” you said softly, the words feeling like a vow.

His lips curved into a soft smile, his thumb tracing lazy circles on your back. “Damn right, I am.”

As you lay there, tangled together in the quiet aftermath, the weight of the moment settled over you. This wasn’t just another night, another stolen moment of passion. This was the start of something new—something real.

And as Tyler held you close, his breathing evening out as sleep began to claim him, you couldn’t help but think that for the first time in a long time, everything felt exactly as it should.

[rafesbabyg1rl]

You were asking for reqs for rafe x reader, if you are taking them, I have one in mind. In which rafe is extremely possesive of bsf reader, and gets easily jealous. One day she was at a kook party, and a guy approached her and they started to talk and that sh*t went down, rafe got aggressive and almost beat the guy to a pulp. Reader is like a shy cute innocent, bimbo type. And smut after the scene if you write it.

Summary: Innocent!reader X possessive!Rafe, bestfriend!reader X bestfriend!Rafe. Summary is basically the anonymous ask!

Warnings: Rafe is possessive of reader. Established friendship. Rafe almost beats a guy to death. Mentions of drugs (no actual drug use), alcohol consumption. Lots of smut; p in v, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, loss of virginity, SLIGHT degradation (some praise too). The classic 'what are we' at the end. The L word.

Word Count: 6.1k

Author Note: Hello Beauties! Thank you for the support and kindness you've all shown me. And thank you for this ask, I really enjoyed writing it. I hope I did your idea justice. Sorry that this is a bit long, it just sort of happened. Also, I hope you all enjoyed the holiday yesterday, well those that celebrate. I'm hoping to finish part four of The Watcher soon so I can get it out, life has just been so exhausting. Anyways, please enjoy and feel free to leave feedback! I love you all, thank you so much!! Stay freaky y'all.

Your best friend, Rafe, had asked you to go to a party with him. Well, more like he had told you to go. Although it’s not like you’d ever miss the opportunity to party with your best friend. So, here you are; walking around the side of Topper’s house, looking for Rafe. You two didn’t come together, he got here before you. He knows you don’t love being around his ‘friends’ and their various illegal substances, even though he says he’s clean, he likes to have time with them before you get there. 

You round a corner, now entering the Thorton’s backyard. You look for Rafe as you work your way through the loud and busy crowd. You hear a friend call your name, you turn your head to her, and she waves you over. You approach her and a few others with a smile. You greet them.

The other girls chat amongst themselves as your friend speaks up, shouting over the music. “Hey!” She’s over enthusiastic per regular, probably a bit drunk too.

“Hey!” You shout back. 

She begins, “Oh my god! I have to tell you something. Guess who I saw—”. Usually, you’d want to hear all the gossip she’s about to ramble to you, but not right now. “Do you know where Rafe is?” You shout over her, cutting her off.

“What?” She asks, stepping closer to you so she can hear you.

“Do you know—” You’re suddenly interrupted by some guy standing beside you. You turn to face him.

“Hey.” He says, his tone confident. A cocky grin spreads across his face.

“Hi.” You smile politely, “Do I know you?”. You say hurriedly before turning back to your friend. She looks between you and the guy a few times before facing you and giving you a knowing smirk. You know what that look means and before you can say anything, she walks away. Leaving you alone with him. You roll your eyes at her playfully, although you really are annoyed that she didn’t tell you where Rafe is. 

Slowly, you turn your head back to the guy, flashing him another fake smile. He grins again before speaking, “No…no you don’t.” He pauses, stepping a bit closer to you so he doesn’t have to shout over the music as loud. “I’m Devin.”

Your fake smile is getting awkward, but you don’t know what to say. You don’t care about talking to him right now. “Nice to meet you, Devin. B-but I need to–”

Devin cuts you off, “Let me get you a drink.” 

You laugh shyly, “Oh...I-I’m okay, I actually have to…”

“Let me just get you a drink, it’ll only take a second.” He moves closer to rest his hand on your lower back for a slight moment, to get you to turn toward the drinks. 

Rafe was on the back patio sitting on one of the couches when someone had mentioned to him that they saw you. He went to go and find you, which is when he spotted you laughing with some guy, who moments later put his hand on you. Rafe’s already had a few drinks tonight, so his judgment clouded even more than usual, especially when it comes to you. 

As you walk towards the drinks, Devin’s hand falls and he follows close behind you. 

After a moment, you hear a mix of gasps and ‘ooohh’s’ from everyone. You turn to look behind you where everyone seems to be gathering. You find that Devin isn’t behind you anymore.

Immediately your eyes land on some commotion in the crowd, you squeeze through the ring of people forming around the area. Shit. You run forwards, pausing just before the fight. 

Devin is flat on his back, Rafe straddling him. Rafe has Devin’s shirt clenched in one fist, holding his head off the ground as he repeatedly drives his other fist into Devin’s face. 

“Rafe!” You shout. Keeping your distance, not wanting to get too close while he’s out of control. You’ve seen how he can get. In the years that you two have been friends, you’ve had to calm him down from countless fights, since nobody else can ever seem to do it. But, when nobody else steps in to try and stop the fight, you step closer, knowing something has to be done. “Rafe, stop! Stop it!” You scream. 

Devin’s completely unconscious, his nose is probably broken, but you can’t really tell; his face is a swollen mess of blood and bruises. You can’t stand here and watch anymore, and nobody seems to be listening to your cries for help. Because nobody is stupid enough to get in Rafe’s way while he’s like this. You step behind Rafe, putting your hands on his shoulders. You try to pull him back all the while trying not to get punched.

“Rafe! Look at me! Look at me, Ray!” Rafe turns his head to the side, momentarily stopping his actions, letting Devin’s head rest on the floor. You put a hand up to cup his cheek. Speaking quietly now as you plead to him. “Rafe…c’mon, that’s good, h-he’s had enough…”. Your tears slow, but your breath is still erratic as you look at the unconscious man. 

Rafe turns back to the guy, your hand falling from his face. Rafe pulls Devin’s head up, like he was going to punch him again. Instead, he lets go, letting the boy's head hit the floor. Rafe stands up without a word and grabs you by your wrist, tugging you away. 

Before you know it, you’re being shoved into your best friend's truck. His random mumbles don’t make much sense to you, talking about ‘he got what he deserved…Should’ve fuckin’ killed him…yeah, should’ve fucking killed him for that. Touchin’ what’s mine…’

When you get to Tannyhill, Rafe wastes no time pulling you into his room. You sit on his bed stiffly, waiting silently as he paces the room.

“Rafe?” You call out softly. “You okay? What happened back there? What was that?”

“He touched you.” Rafe states. His tone is low and rough, sending a chill down your spine. Even after all the years you’ve been his best friend, you still never know how to act when he’s like this. 

“Barely. He barely touched me.”

Rafe completely disregards what you say, shaking his head and blowing out a jagged breath as he continues to pace across his room, a bit slower now. “Why was he even talking to you? You were supposed to be with me. I told you to go to the party, not him.” 

You take your chance to get a word in as he spews out angry nonsense. “I was looking for you and he started talking, ‘wanted to get me a drink. I was just being nice; I didn’t know who he was. I didn’t even want to talk to him, I was looking for you, Rafe. I don’t even see why that matters–”.

He pauses, looking over at you. His movements are sharp as he strides over to you. “Don’t see why it matters…?” He repeats your words, more for himself than to you. “It matters because you’re mine.” His words are sharp, definitely directed to you that time.

“Rafe…you almost killed him…because of me? I don’t get it Rafe; I don’t nearly kill all the girls you fuck.” You state.

Rafe lets out a breathy chuckle before speaking. “Still don’t get it, huh?” Rafe laughs. “God you’re so innocent. So naive.” He pauses, stepping closer until he’s standing in front of you, looking down at you as you sit on his bed. “I need you, y/n. I can’t…god, I can’t even fuck anyone else anymore without thinking about you. I can’t let anyone else have you, got that? You understand now?” He asks harshly as he runs a rough hand through your hair. 

You try to swallow the lump in your throat. You look up and nod weakly, causing Rafe to flash a devilish grin. “Yeah?” He asks quietly, his voice coming out low. 

“Yeah…” You mumble back brainlessly, too shocked by your best friend's confession. You had always thought Rafe saw you purely as a friend. Although thinking back, you don’t know how you ever thought that with how he acts, especially lately. 

No time is wasted as Rafe quickly leans down, capturing your lips with his. The first kiss is hesitant, and you don’t kiss back. But when he pulls away to look at you, trying to gauge your emotion, you lean in. Your best friend takes that as a sign to continue. His lips quickly find yours again. When he feels you start to kiss back, he escalates things. Kissing you more roughly now, acting as though he’s a starved man and your lips are his meal.

His hand moves from the back of your head to your throat, lightly squeezing. At first you don’t even realize, too distracted by the feeling of his tongue entering your mouth. But when Rafe squeezes your neck even tighter, you move your hands to reach up and wrap around his wrist in an attempt to pull it away. Your mouth still occupied by his, the kiss is too fucking good to break. It feels like everything you didn’t know you needed. He’s giving you what nobody else could, because only he knows exactly what you need and exactly how to give it to you. Your lack of breath reminds you of your situation and you pull away from the kiss momentarily.

Rafe’s grip loosens as he pulls his head back so he can look into your eyes. “Tell me you want this.” He mumbles breathlessly. 

You search his eyes as you catch your breath. Nodding, you finally speak up. “I want this.” You say definitively.

Not even half a second later, Rafe’s body crashes down onto you, pushing you down so that you’re laying on his bed. Rafe has one arm beside your head, holding himself up as his other remains on your neck. He hovers over you, one knee pressed between your thighs. Rafe leans down, his lips attaching to your neck, kissing and sucking frantically at your skin. He’s been waiting so, so long for this. 

His lips find your ear, softly biting at it before whispering. “Let me take care of you, baby. You want that, hm?”. While waiting for your response, his free hand traces down the side of your body until it reaches the hem of your skirt. He moves his face to the other side of your head, giving some attention to your other ear. “Need your best friend to help you feel good…give you what you need, yeah?” His hand slips under your skirt, slowly gliding up your inner thigh, sending shivers through your whole body.

“Yes–” A moan escapes your lips, interrupting you. Your eyes meet his before you continue. “Please Rafey…need you…”

His lips meet yours at the same time his hand meets your clothed cunt. He kisses you sloppily, exploring every part of your mouth with his tongue. Your hands come up to rest on his chest, your touch sending shocks through him. He rubs you through your panties. He can feel as you grow more needy, the wet spot on your panties getting larger. 

He can’t believe this is actually happening. He’s wanted to do this to you for so long; he’s dreamt of this moment happening in almost every way possible, but this…he never could’ve imagined this feeling. “Fuck…you’re so wet f’me already.”

“Ray…please…” You can’t help but rut your panty-clad cunt against his hand, searching for friction. Usually you’re never this bold, but you’re comfortable with him. You always have been, he is your best friend after all. You just pray that he understands what you need. 

Except Rafe doesn’t respond in the way you had hoped for. No, instead he pulls his hand out from under your skirt, eliciting a whine from you. He presses a genuine, wet kiss against your parted lips before moving down your body. Rafe slides down, kneeling onto the floor in front of the bed. He grabs you by the back of your knees and tugs you down towards him until your ass is at the edge of the bed. Without breaking eye contact, he swiftly removes your skirt. He spreads your legs, making them bend so your heels are on the edge of the bed. Eagerly, he presses wet, sloppy kisses up your inner thighs, his eyes trained up on you.

The sight of him like this between your thighs, doing exactly what you need…it drives you crazy. You lean your head back, letting out a moan as Rafe mouths at your entrance through the fabric your panties.

It’s not long before he’s peeling back your panties as well, sliding them off of you completely. Your legs threaten to close from insecurity, but your best friend is sure to hold them open.

“Fuck…this pussy’s even prettier than I imagined, baby. Soaked…just for me.” Rafe leans in, his mouth hovering just above your core. He silently asks for permission.

Being your best friend, Rafe knows that you’ve never done this before. No guy had ever wanted to date you while Rafe’s your best friend, they could see that you’re his, even if you couldn’t. 

His breath is hot on your bare center, he watches as you squirm and clench around nothing. Eagerly you nod, giving him permission. And within seconds his mouth is on you.

At first, he’s slow; gentle as his eyes continue to meet yours. He licks a warm stripe up your center, briefly pulling back to watch your reaction. Your head falls back, your mouth parted, and eyes closed as you experience this new sensation that your best friend is so generously giving you.

Rafe begins to lick and suck at you. His tongue circles your clit as he looks up, knowing you’d like it. A moan slips past your lips as your hand flies to the back of his head, the other gripping onto the sheets beside you. 

“Nnnghh…f-fuck, Ray…” You whine as his tongue fucks you relentlessly. He only mumbles against you in response, sending vibrations through your core. This felt even better than you had ever thought it would. When you heard people talk about sex, you didn’t think it could actually be this good. Though maybe that just has to do with the fact that Rafe’s your best friend, and he knows exactly what you need.

“Yeah?” One of his hands leaves your leg and moves to grope your tits through your clothes. “You like this, huh? You’re just a slut for your best friend, hm? Letting me have you like this…”

“N-need you…” You mutter, grieving the loss of his tongue on you. He stares at you with a devilish glint in his eyes. 

“I know, baby. I know.” Rafe’s mouth continues to work on you. His tongue gathers some slick from your entrance and brings it up to your clit, circling it with his tongue a few times before repeating the process. 

The feeling in your lower stomach is starting to build. It’s getting hard for you to sit still for him. It’s even harder for you to stay quiet. A plethora of moans escape you as Rafe’s mouth stays busy between your thighs. Your hand holds his head down, your other grips the sheets underneath you. 

“Rafe…please. S’too much, I can’t—” You whine. 

“Ah ah ah…stop running, baby. I got you. I got you.” Rafe’s grip on your thighs tightens, keeping you in place. “God,” He mutters breathlessly. “You taste…you taste so fuckin’ good. Hiding this from me all that time, hm?” He leans back down and continues his ministrations on you.

Your toes start to curl, the band in your stomach threatening to snap. Suddenly he stops and before you get the chance to look down to see why, one of his fingers is prodding at your entrance. “Gotta stretch this pretty little pussy out, yeah? Don’t wanna hurt you.”

You nod, allowing one of his thick, long digits to slowly slide into you. You almost scream when he starts to move it, his mouth working on you at the same time. Rafe adds another finger, now thrusting two in and out of you. 

“Fuck baby, you’re gonna squeeze my cock so good. Jus’ gotta get you used to this, hm? You gonna let your best friend be the first to fuck you?” Rafe asks. You nod in response, agreeing to his words. Rafe’s fingers spread apart inside you, stretching your hole, preparing you for his cock. His tongue pauses again as he looks up at you and correct his previous statement. “The only one to fuck you.” Rafe puts his head back between your thighs, his fingers fucking you mercilessly as his tongue sucks at your bud. 

You nod again, followed by a whine. “F-fuck…Ray. I-I think I’m gonna…”

“Yeah? You gonna cum for me, baby? Hm?” 

“Mhmm…yes, fuckk–” You respond, your fingers fighting to grasp onto the little hair he has. Your thighs begin to squeeze around him, causing him to pull his head up against the force of your hand on him. 

“Just a little more, baby. You can take it. I know you can. You gonna let me help you finish? You wanna cum?”

“Yes! Yes! Please Rafey…please let me cum.” Your begging makes him chuckle briefly before going back down on you. His tongue moves with precision, working on you with a purpose; to make you cum. 

Without warning, the band in your stomach snaps. You scream out his name as his tongue circles your sensitive bud and his fingers pump in and out of you slowly. Your best friend continues to work you through your first real orgasm. You’ve never felt anything like this. Why the hell did you wait so long to do this with him?

“God…baby. You’re so fuckin’ perfect. You have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear those pretty sounds.” Rafe carefully slides his fingers out of you, making you clench around nothing at the loss of him. He gets up from his knees, standing over you again. Rafe’s face glistens with your slick. His hand moves up to brush your hair back while he brings his free hand up to your mouth. “Open.” He orders. You oblige and he pushes two digits into your mouth. “Taste that? Taste how fuckin’ good you taste?” He pulls his fingers back, immediately moving down to kiss you. You can taste yourself on his lips. Rafe climbs on top of you, his mouth finding the sweet spot behind your ear. He whispers, “You okay?”

“Mhm…better than okay.” You reassure him. Your legs are still shaking with the aftershock of your orgasm. 

“Good.” He mumbles against your skin. “‘Cause I’m not even close to done with you, baby. We’re just getting started.” He doesn’t wait before he’s pulling off your shirt, kissing down your chest. Soon after, he unclasps your bra with one hand, pulling it off of you and tossing it onto the floor somewhere. 

His lips are vicious, attaching to any and every bit of your skin. His hands gently cup your breasts, his mouth finding and attaching to one of your nipples. His eyes stay trained up on your face, he likes seeing how you react to his touch. He pulls back, straddling your lap. Your hand shoots out to grab the hem of his shirt, trying to tug it upwards. He smirks and quickly does it himself, tossing it aside. He watches you like prey as your eyes skim over his bare chest. 

It’s not like you haven’t seen him shirtless before, you have, many times. But no matter how many times you see him like this, you’ll never get used to it. You’ve never seen him in this way though. It’s different, more intimate. You’ve never shared this kind of intimacy with anybody before. And you’re glad you’re doing it with your best friend, whom you’re comfortable with. 

The low light of his bedside lamps reflecting off of his toned skin, damp with sweat. You let out a slow breath as you take in the sight. “Fuck.” You mutter. 

Rafe leans down, kissing and nipping at your earlobe. He whispers, “Like what you see?” He laughs. 

You nod your head eagerly. “Mhmm…”

“Use your words baby, you’re a big girl, aren’t you?” 

“I…y-yes.” You whine as you wriggle underneath him, trying to squeeze your thighs shut in search of some much-needed friction.

Rafe knows what you need. He knows that you’re ready now; ready to give him everything, let him take your innocence, your virtue. He uses one hand to prop himself up as the other works at his belt. Once you realize what he’s doing, you try to help him out, eagerly unbuckling his belt as he kisses you passionately, like he’s never kissed anyone else before you; like you’re the only girl on this fucking planet. 

Once his belt is off, you work at his pants. He leans up so he can tug them off, throwing them aside with the rest of the discarded clothes. All that’s left between the two of you now is the thin fabric of his boxers. You can feel his hardened form pressing into your leg as he kisses you, practically devouring you. Without thinking about it, you find your hand tugging at the waistband of his boxers. You beg. “Please”, your lips whisper into his ear as he bites at your neck. “Rafey…”

He leans back again, this time getting off of you and standing at the side of the bed and in front of you. You can’t help but touch yourself as Rafe frees himself from the constraint of his boxers. You watch as his hard cock springs up, hitting his stomach when it’s finally freed. He smirks, leaning down to remove your hand from yourself. 

“I got you, baby. I got you. I’ll take care of you.” He mumbles, moving his hand over your core again. His strong fingers circle your clit. Your breath hitches as you watch him touch you, his other hand holding the base of his cock.

“Rafe?” You manage to ask through your cries. 

“Hm? What is it?” Rafe says your name softly, encouraging you to continue. 

“Will it hurt?” You’ve heard that the first time can be uncomfortable. And judging by Rafe’s size, this was going to be more than just uncomfortable. But that doesn’t mean you’re going to back out of the situation, you need this. You need him.

Your best friend’s expression becomes more serious as he looks at you. His hand comes up from your core to brush a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering. “It might, baby. It might be a little uncomfortable for a moment, but I’ll do my best to make it feel good, yeah? I’ll go slow. And if you don’t like it I want you to tell me. You’re okay, baby. It’s just me, your best friend. I’m gonna take care of you. M’kay?” You nod in response, his eyes darting between your eyes to get a sense of what you’re thinking. Rafe clicks his tongue. “Ah, ah. Use your words, pretty girl.” His hand reaches out for your chin, tilting your face up towards him. 

“Please Ray…”

“Please what?”

“Fuck me…” The words sound so vulgar coming from your sweet, innocent mouth. He’s never known you to speak this way, but he’s not against it. He pumps his fist over his cock a few times, his head leaning back as he lets out a groan. “Please Rafe…I-I need you in me…”

Your words snap him out of his amazement. “Atta girl.” He replies. You can feel his tip gently rub against your slippery entrance. Your warm juices on his cock feel better than anything he’s ever experienced. You’re like a drug to him. A drug that he can’t get enough of. 

He pulls back before you can get used to the feeling of him. He leans over you, reaching into his dresser drawer. When he moves back over you, you see the shiny square wrapper in his hand.

You place your hands over his as he tries to open the condom. “No…”

His head snaps up at you. “No…? No what?” He asks, confused. “You don’t want to do this?”

“No…Rafe, I-I want this. I just…I want to feel you. No…no condom.” You explain.

“Fuck, y/n. Are you sure?” Rafe’s disbelief and shock is very apparent in his tone. 

“Yes, I’m sure. I’m on the pill.” You confirm.

“God, how much more perfect can you fuckin’ get?” He chuckles, making you huff out a quick laugh. 

Soon his lips are back on yours as he uses his hand to guide his glistening, pink tip back to your puffy cunt. Slowly, he pushes into you, just so that the very tip of his cock is inside of you. He looks up to your face, pending your reaction. 

“F-fuck…Rafe.” Your hands move to his hips, pushing him further inside. Rafe gives in, pushing another inch into you. “Mnghh, fuck…Rafe.” Rafe settles there for a moment before giving you another inch or two. Each time he moves, he looks to make sure you’re still enjoying it, giving you a minute to adjust each time. When he finally bottoms out, you feel so…full. The pain is there, but it doesn’t last long, fading into a light discomfort as your soft walls mold to his shape. You involuntarily squeeze around him.

“Shiiiitt, baby…Squeezin’ me so tight.” He pauses to kiss you, his lips soon finding that soft spot behind your ear that makes you shiver. “M’gonna move now, alright?”

“Mhm…please…” You whine. You hook your arms under his, bringing your palms up to grip onto his back. Rafe continues to kiss all over your neck and chest as he slowly pulls out of you, until only the tip is left inside. Without warning, he pushes into you a bit quicker this time, with a bit more force than before. But you’re not complaining. You cry his name out, your nails digging into his shoulders. He begins to move at a slow, steady pace as he whispers sweet nothings into your ear. “F-fuck…” You yelp, gripping onto him even harder.

“Fuck, baby…your nails, they hurt.” He mumbles amusedly into your ear as he nips at it. Immediately your grip loosens. You feel terrible but can’t manage to muster up an apology since you can’t think clearly with how his cock is repeatedly kissing your cervix with each thrust. 

“Faster.” You beg, pressing your forehead into his arm. He listens cautiously, carefully picking up the face. He lifts one of your legs over his shoulder. The new position allows him to hit an even deeper spot inside of you. When his digits start to circle your clit you almost let out a scream, making him chuckle. 

“Such a fuckin’ whore for me, hm?” He laughs as he fucks you senseless.

“Fuck…Rafey, no, I…I can’t. Can’t take it.” You moan, throwing your head back as your eyes squeeze shut. 

“You can and you will.” He speaks emotionlessly, overtaken by pleasure. Rafe’s hand moves from you clit up to your throat again, he applies a bit of pressure. Your hands leave his back and wrap around his wrist. Your eyes stay shut as your face contorts into that of pure bliss. His thumb slides into your mouth and you suck and bite at it, trying to distract yourself from the overwhelming feeling of him fucking you. You don’t see how you can ever stop; this feeling is…unlike anything else you’ve felt before. “You got this baby. M’almost there. You can let go, baby. Just let go f’me.”

Sooner than later you feel the newly familiar feeling of pressure building in your lower stomach. When it snaps, your body tenses up, a wave of moans escape your mouth as the band snaps and pleasure washes over you. Rafe continues to fuck you slowly, his movements becoming more sporadic than strategic.

“Fuck, where do you want it?”

“My pussy, please Rafey…fill me up?” You ask, eyes wide with tears as you look up at him. “Please?”

“Shit, you sure?” Rafe groans, barely able to hold on any longer.

“Y-yes...I’m sure.” Only seconds later you can feel his warm seed spurting out inside of you. Your gummy walls soaking him in as they squeeze around him, milking him for all that he’s got.

“Fuckk y/n. Do that again.” As he thrusts into you without any specific rhythm, you obey his words, squeezing tightly around his length again. Rafe lets out a guttural moan, tossing his head back for a moment before looking at you again, watching how well you take him, as if you were made for him. The way he fills you up you is like pieces of a puzzle, just meant for one another. “Shiiitt…you’re so fucking tight. Squeezin’ ‘round your best friends cock so good.”

After you’re both worked through your orgasms, he pulls out of you. You groan at the loss of him, feeling a big opening left where he had been. Rafe leans down to press a deep, meaningful kiss to your lips. He pulls back, wiping your hair and sweat from your face with a proud smile.

“God, baby. You did so good, so fucking good. That’s a good girl. My girl, yeah?” He leans down again, pressing a kiss to your neck. Rafe whispers in your ear. “m’so proud.” Before pulling away completely, he presses a kiss to each of your cheeks, your nose, and one final kiss to your forehead. 

You turn on your side to face him as he lay on the bed beside you. “Rafe…” Your voice shows your exhaustion, but also your hesitancy.

He turns on his side to face you as well, propping his head up against his hand. “Hm?” He says with a smile. He can’t help it, it’s impossible for him to see you and not smile after what you just did. 

You flop back down onto your back, staring up at the ceiling. It’s too hard to say this while looking at his beautiful smile. “That was…” 

“Incredible?” He interrupts, his fingers lightly tracing up and down your arm. 

“What was that?” You blurt out, scared that if you don’t say it now then you never will.

Rafe’s smile fades quickly, he props himself up on his elbows, staring down at you with furrowed brows. “Woah woah, woah. Hey. What? What d’you mean?”

You give a light shrug, his fingers no longer moving over your skin. You avoid looking at his pretty eyes. “I mean like…what happens now?”

He sighs, laying back down next to you, looking up at the ceiling. “Well, you’re my girl now, yeah? I thought that was obvious.” 

“Your girl? The Rafe Cameron I know doesn’t do girlfriends.” You say lightly.

“That’s because I never wanted one. I never…needed one, I’ve got you.”

“So…we’re friends?” You ask, attempting and failing at trying to hide your emotions.

“We are, aren’t we?” Rafe responds, not knowing what his words imply or how they’ll make you feel.

“Yeah…yea we’re friends.” You say dryly. 

He turns his head to face you. “Hey. Y/N. What’s wrong? Hey…hey, talk to me.”

“Nothing, Rafe. I’m fine.”

“Jesus, no you’re not. C‘mon baby, what is it?”

“Nothing!” You snap. You’re angry about your own reaction, feeling stupid once the words leave your mouth. Grabbing the sheets, you cover yourself up.

“Did I do something? What’d I do?” Asks Rafe, making you feel worse about yourself. It’s not his fault you feel like this. “Is it what we did? Look, I’m sorry if—“

You cut him off, not being able to listen to him blame himself. “I just…I don’t think friends do what we just did.”

“Jesus, y/n. Look…” He trails off, cursing himself. “Do you not wanna be my girl or something? ‘Cause I can—“

“No, Rafe. I just…I don’t get what you mean. Your girl?”

“Yeah.” He says, confused.

“Like…your girlfriend? Dating? Us?”

“Fuck. Yes, baby. My girlfriend.” Rafe says the word as though it’s a pain to say it. “Will you be my girlfriend? Please?” You could tease him about the way he’s practically begging you.

“Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?” You joke, not being able to resist. Rafe laughs, glad to hear your usual self. 

“Well, I’m kinda hoping that I’m your…boyfriend, now.”

“Hmm…let me think…” You say, tapping your chin as if this is something you need to contemplate. You can see his demeanor sadden from the corner of your eye, causing you to look over at him. “What’s in it for me?” You add, a smirk threatening to appear on your face. You can barely hold back your laughter at this point, but he still looks so sad, like a puppy who can’t have a treat. “Jesus Rafe, I thought you’d never ask.” You don’t even give him enough time to respond before you’re on top of him, his lips immediately seeking yours.

“Yeah? You mean it?” He asks between kisses, almost nervously. 

“Of course I do, Rafe. ‘Promise.” 

You always know just what to say to him to calm down his mind, he loves that about you. “Fuck, you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this. God, I fuckin’ love you.” Your eyes widen at his confession, you look down at him. He’s almost just as shocked as you are. He didn’t even know he felt that way. The words just slipped out, but they felt so right. “Fuck, no, I meant—“ Rafe starts, but you cut him off. You kiss him again,  passionately. This kiss shows him exactly how you feel, somehow being more intimate than having sex with him was. 

“I love you, Rafe. I promise.” You know how he can feel like everybody is against him, so you try to reassure him as much as you can. You’re the only one who’s ever made him feel cared for; he just never wanted to fuck things up with you. “Please just…can you promise me that you’ll stop beating up random strangers who talk to me? ‘Cause I don’t care about them, Rafe. I care about you.”

This is all so new, talking to each other in this way. But it’s how you’ve both always felt. “But y/n, he-“ Rafe pauses, reconsidering his words for you. He sighs and then mumbles, “Yeah…I’ll try.” He looks back at you, you with a stern look in your eyes. “I will. I promise.”

You smile, leaning down for a kiss. Quickly, things start to escalate again. Rafe flips you both over so he’s on top. He leans down to kiss your neck, sucking and nipping at it as he works his way down, kissing every inch of you. 

“Mnmh…fuck…” You moan.

Rafe smiles against your skin. “Yeah, baby? That feels good huh?” You only nod eagerly as a response. Rafe takes hold of his already hard cock, using his fist to pump over himself a few times, letting out a low growl. He rubs his dewy, pink tip over your sticky hole. 

You let out a moan, still being sensitive from your previous orgasms. “F-fuck…Rafe, m’too sensitive, s’too much.” You whine.

“Shh…shhhh baby, it’s okay. I’m not gonna do nothin’, jus’ wanna show you how proud of my girl I am.” His mouth works it’s way down, landing back between your thighs. Your boyfriend softly bites at your inner thighs, his eyes staying trained on you as your face contorts in pleasure. Eventually he finds your soaking core, lapping up the mix of your juices. You feel his fingers gather some of your arousal, mixed with his cum. Before you know it, those fingers are deep inside your throat. “Taste that, baby? Hm? Taste how fucking good we are?” 

You nod, whining when his mouth finds your core again. His tongue flicks at your most sensitive bud, making you jump. Although Rafe only holds onto harder the more you try to run. “Baby, it’s okay. Let me take care of you; clean you up.”

It doesn’t take long until you’re yet again, a shaking, crying mess underneath him. When his mouth works it’s way back to yours, you can taste both of you on his tongue. “Fuckin’ love this pussy. I fucking love you.”

You smile a weak, tired smile at him. He rolls off of you, flipping you both on your side so he can spoon you. He kisses your shoulder, his fingers lightly tracing mindless shapes into your skin. “I love you too.” You respond as you drift off to sleep in your boyfriend's arms.

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed. Please feel free to leave more asks, I will most likely get to them at some point. Thank you!

[yanderedrabbles]

What would yandere mafia do if he seen yn with another guy?

Yandere Gangster - Jealousy

He's your driver for the day and his eyes keep slipping to the rear view mirror to watch you.

You've got your arms stretched out along the backrest, a slim cigar drooping from your fingers and your head tilted back. Everything about you exudes a quiet, deadly confidence that still frightens him, even after all this time.

"Take the I76 and turn off at the airport."

"Yes ma'am."

He expects to maybe exchange some cargo or hand something off to a mule. He doesn't expect you to be picking up a man.

And he sure as hell doesn't expect you to hug the guy.

You - the cold hearted, merciless mafia boss - have your arms draped around a man's neck. And worse even than that, you give him a kiss on the cheek.

He's too shocked to move and when you tell him to grab the man's luggage, he takes a second before he manages to follow you.

In the car, you offer the man a pull of your cigar. He can see the slight stain of your lipstick on the filter before the man leans forward and covers it with his own lips.

It feels as intimate as a kiss.

And it makes him want to bite the man's face off and tear his throat to ribbons with his teeth and feel blood run like water down his throat. Instead, he just clutches at the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white and numb.

No matter how much he hates seeing you with anyone else, you're still his boss.

Whoever this man is, you wouldn't take kindly to him being hurt without your explicit orders. Because the one thing he hates more than this smug bastard is the thought of you being angry with him.

And so he drives you back home and has to hang onto the door like a lifeline when the man rests his hand on your waist.

You tell him to come back tomorrow morning and he spends the rest of the afternoon drinking, trying not to think about you and the stranger all alone together.

He gets into a bar fight and it's almost a relief to be throwing punches. When he washes the blood off his knuckles, he pictures the stranger's face breaking under his fists.

In the morning, you see the bruises on his face and suck your teeth in annoyance.

"Why'd you let them ruin your pretty face?"

"It was a lucky shot ma'am."

You push the hair out his eyes for a better look and shake your head.

"Be more careful next time."

His throat goes dry at your touch.

"Yes ma'am."

Your hand slips from his head down to the nape of his neck. Your hands are so warm, so soft, that he almost melts. And the way you hold him is borderline possessive, the way a dog holds a puppy by the scruff of its neck.

"I'm proud of you. You behaved very well around my brother yesterday."

"Your brother?"

He feels a rush of relief and under it, a slight sense of trepidation. Were you baiting him? You didn't mention anything about the stranger being your brother.

You smile that cold, calculating smile of yours.

"You didn't think he was my husband, did you?"

He feels blood rush to his face.

"N-no ma'am."

"Good." You squeeze his neck a little before pulling away.

"I'd hate for you to think I had a lover."

[idylls-of-the-divine-romance]

Hiii prev.

I won't go thru everything you said because a lot of it is just responding to me for being spiteful. I am incredibly sorry about that. I hadn't eaten and I suffer greatly from pride. As such, I get offended too easily and felt desperately to defend my orthodoxy. My faith is really important to me (one of the few things i feel secure and confident in) so when I felt like you were questioning it (which I understand you weren't), I felt passionately to defend it. That said, it was a failure to love you as a fellow image of God, and as you are my sibling in Christ it was also a betrayal. For that I am deeply sorry. Please forgive me.

Nuance: I do stand by the thought that it's a bit of a leap to say I was denying the eternity of hell based off of me saying that "some Christians" had that view. I understand how so many came to that conclusion, but still.

I am answering your ask; almost done, doing lots of editing so it's clear, concise, and coherent (which it still likely won't be lol. trying most of all not to be confusing)

On the eternal/temporary nature of hell: whether I think it's valid or not depends on the person. There are liberals who simply do not care what the bible says and will believe whatever they wish; their position is not valid. But, for the Christian who, when looking at the Greek, and contemplating the biblical narrative, as well as the history of interpretive tradition, asserts that hell is purgatorial (which I think is more accurate and helpful to say then temporary) I don't think it's fair to say unbiblical. From my perspective the Eastern Orthodox perspective on hell seems unbiblical. How could heaven and hell be the same place? But, thru conversation with an E.O. i know that it is deeply theologically sound, even if i disagree with it (think it's more sound than typical low church protestant fiery torment views of hell tho). My initial reaction of "that is unbiblical" is simply because I grew up in an environment completely opposite. I feel like I'm rambling; my main point is that I think I would need to talk with a purgatorial universalist about it before I could say it's unbiblical because even disagreeing I can see the philosophy and it tracks.

I am glad you liked my exegesis and thought it was "surprisingly sound" lol. Biblical studies is very dear to me and I wish I could go into it professionally. But as that's unlikely I settle with essays on tumblr

insane for parents to read the story of isaac and abraham to their kids like ok so would you also kill me if god asked you to, dad?

[strwbwrrybunny]

all mine. ellie w.

nsfw. your cute girlfriend doesn’t cut it, but your ex does. drabble!

regret courses through you like a raging river, each pulse in your sweaty palm amplifying the weight of the phone. the ring pierces through the silence, a relentless reminder of your impending doom. anxiously, you gnaw at your lip, the taste of iron mingling with your mounting fear. "i'm being ridiculous," you mutter, your thumb hovering over the end call button. but then, the line clicks open, and her voice, sharp and slightly irritated, cuts through the tension.

"hello?"

her tone is justified; after months of silence and the last encounter being a screaming match, she has every right to be annoyed. your mouth goes dry, and you scramble for words, your mind a chaotic mess. "you fuckin' prank calling me?" ellie snaps, her voice heavy with exhaustion. it's three in the morning, and she doesn't have time for games.

"no, no," you stammer, "i just wanted to talk to you." you facepalm, feeling utterly pathetic. you can hear her shifting in bed, her irritation palpable. "right, and you decided to do that on a random tuesday at three in the morning? bye, y/n." her voice is cold, dismissive.

"wait, no! el, please," you beg, your voice cracking. you don’t care how pathetic you sound. "you have two minutes," she sighs, the sound of rustling sheets indicating she’s sitting up. "i-uh, fuck. can you come over?" the words spill out, faster than you intend, a jumbled mess of desperation.

ellie’s not dumb. she knows exactly why you’re calling her. the unspoken truth hangs heavy in the air, thick with tension and unfulfilled desires. you want her, need her in a way that no one else can satisfy.

she always promised that no one could fuck you like she did, and she was right. latest example: the girl you’d been dating for a month, the shy girl from the bookstore where you worked. you felt dirty inviting ellie over right after you’d been with someone else. the girl was always awkward with the sex toys you’d provided, fumbling and unsure, her nervous laughter only adding to the discomfort. she tried her best, but it was clear she was out of her depth.

eventually, you had to fake an orgasm just to get it over with, feeling a pang of emptiness as you did. ellie was right once again, and you hated it. the regret and desire intertwine inside you, creating a potent mix that leaves you breathless, waiting for her response. the memory of ellie’s touch, her confidence, and the way she knew exactly what you needed floods back, making the wait even more unbearable.

the silence on the other end is deafening, each second stretching into an eternity. you can almost hear her thinking, weighing her options. finally, she exhales, a soft sound that sends a shiver down your spine. "you know this is a bad idea, right?" she says, her voice softer now, almost resigned.

"i know," you admit, your voice barely a whisper. "but i need to see you. please, ellie."

there's a long pause, and you can imagine her sitting there, running a hand through her hair, contemplating whether to give in to the pull that always seemed to draw you two back together. "fine," she finally says, her voice tinged with a mixture of frustration and something else—something that gives you a glimmer of hope. "i'll be there in twenty."

the call ends, and you let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding. the anticipation gnaws at you, a mix of dread and excitement bubbling in your chest. you glance around your apartment, suddenly acutely aware of the mess. you start tidying up, trying to make the place look somewhat presentable, but your mind keeps drifting to ellie.

you remember the first time you met her, how she walked into the room with that confident stride, her presence commanding attention. and then there was her bike—sleek, powerful, a perfect extension of her personality. you were drawn to her like a moth to a flame, unable to resist the allure of her confidence and the way she seemed to see right through you.

as you wait, the memories flood back—late-night rides, whispered confessions, the way her lips felt against yours. the good times, the bad times, and everything in between. you wonder if this time will be any different, if the cycle of attraction and regret will finally break, or if you're doomed to repeat the same mistakes.

“can’t believe i’m doing this,” you mutter, sinking into the plush sofa and tossing your phone aside absentmindedly. the cushions envelop you, offering a fleeting comfort that contrasts with the turmoil inside. “fuck.” you pull at the frayed strings of your old pajama pants, the fabric worn thin and soft from countless washes, and glance down at the t-shirt that’s been begging to see the trash for months. it’s a relic of better times, now faded and stretched, much like your patience.

pushing yourself off the couch, you make your way to your cozy bedroom, the familiar creak of the floorboards underfoot. the soft glow of the bedside lamp casts a warm, inviting light, creating a stark contrast to the chaos in your mind. sliding open the closet door, you sift through the hangers, fingers brushing against various fabrics. you’re looking for something to wear, something sexy but not too sexy. you didn’t want to seem like a try-hard.

after a moment, you pull out a sleek black nightgown, simple yet seductive, and hold it up to the light, wondering if it will strike the right balance. the soft, silky fabric feels cool against your skin. you run your fingers over the delicate lace trim, appreciating the craftsmanship and the way it catches the light. the nightgown drapes elegantly, and you know this is the one.

it was almost comical how fast ellie had your face squished into the headboard as she fucked you with the pink strap, her soft moans droned out by your fucked out babbling.

“new girl don’t make you nut? that’s a damn shame.”

you could barely understand the words through her panting and the sound of her hips slapping into yours, but you caught the message.

you couldn't get it out of your mind, though. how did she know you had a new girlfriend? and more importantly, how did she know she was shit in bed? you weren’t exactly sure, and you knew if you asked you would probably receive an answer you weren’t fond of. you tried to push the thoughts from your head, but it wasn’t easy to focus with her thrusts becoming even more erratic, her fingers digging deeper into your hips.

but she did have a point, didn't she? you'd never come that hard from any other partner.

you could feel yourself nearing your second climax as she relentlessly pounded your sweet spot. you were almost embarrassed with how much your body was shaking and spasming, but with ellie it was nothing to be ashamed of. she loved seeing you completely vulnerable for her. spread out, taking each deep thrust like the good girl you were.

"you like that baby? huh? tell me you love it," her words were more demanding than they were questioning, your eyes crossed in bliss.

"i-i lov-e it! oh god!" you choke out, she smiled at your reaction, her chest pressed against your back as she moved you down to lay flat, the new angle making her thrusts even more unforgiving as your knees shook in pleasure. you let out a pathetic squeal, a mixture of spit and tears on the hardwood.

"yeah you do baby, takin’ it like a good girl," she pulled you up so your back was against her chest, the hand that was on your hip was now rubbing fast circles around your clit. your body twitched as you moaned loudly, a familiar feeling burning in your stomach.

“tell me you’ve missed me.”

you have. fuck, you’ve missed her a lot.

"missed yo-y-mm-m g-gonna c-cum ellie-ellie!" you moaned, the feeling becoming too much for you.

"it's okay, cum for me," your hips jolted and your body went rigid, the knot inside you snapping as your vision went white, the only thing keeping you grounded was ellie's arms holding you steady. you gasped as the feeling overtook your body, ellie slowing her movements to help you ride it out.

you came for a second time that night, your eyes rolling back and tears of ecstasy staining your face. she slowed down as your body calmed down, her hand leaving your hip to gently stroke the back of your thigh. you couldn't believe this girl.

she had you crying for her.

she slowly pulled out, watching in amusement as your legs still twitched. you felt the weight shift on the bed as she got up, the pink strap hitting the floor with a thud. you stayed in the position she left you, unable to move after being so thoroughly fucked.

she returned moments later, wiping the mess from your thighs and between your legs. she helped you turn over and lie down, and you finally saw the look of complete and utter adoration on her face.

fuck. you’re in so deep.

im cummin, love my gf. as always, likes, comments and reposts are appreciated! bunny out ໒꒰ྀིᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ꒱ྀི১

[insidekatmind]

Mason can say goodbye to you- Levi Colwill

Wearning: +18,smut,betrayal, english is not my first language

It was an important evening, one of those that marked the start of a crucial week for Mason and the English national team. The party organized to celebrate the beginning of the Euros was elegant yet relaxed, an opportunity for the players to unwind a bit before the challenges ahead. You, as always, were by Mason’s side, impeccable in your tight black dress that seemed tailor-made for you. Every detail spoke of you: your enveloping coconut and vanilla scent, your well-groomed hair, your natural grace that didn’t go unnoticed.

But inside, something was wrong. Lately, Mason had made you feel invisible. A couple of weeks ago, you had tried to talk to him about how his behavior hurt you. They were things that, for him, were “childish,” but to you, they were important. Every time you explained it, he shrugged it off, minimizing your feelings with superficial comments.

That evening, your disappointment was masked by a perfect smile. Mason seemed absorbed in a conversation with Harry Kane, laughing and joking as if nothing in the world could disturb him. And you, well, you could do nothing but try to distract yourself, holding a glass of white wine as you observed the room.

And that’s when you noticed him.

Levi Colwill was leaning against the bar, a barely noticeable smile on his full lips. The tattoos peeking from under his rolled-up shirt sleeves gave him an irresistibly confident aura. And the earring in his left lobe? A signature of his unmistakable style.

When your eyes met, you felt your heart race. Levi raised his glass in a barely perceptible gesture, a silent invitation. You weren’t sure why, but your feet moved toward him before you could even rationalize it.

“You’re too beautiful for a party this boring,” he said, his deep, velvety voice seeming to caress you.

You smiled, trying to keep your composure. “Maybe I’m just trying to raise the level.”

“You’re succeeding,” he replied, tilting his head slightly as he watched you. “Mason is a lucky man. But he doesn’t seem to realize it.”

Those words hit you harder than you wanted to admit. Levi had picked up on what Mason had ignored for weeks. You bit your lip, trying not to let too much show.

“I don’t think this is the right time for that kind of conversation,” you responded, trying to steer things away.

But Levi wasn’t discouraged. He took a step closer, closing the gap between you. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. It’s just… it’s hard not to notice you.”

His scent, fresh and masculine, enveloped you. You felt your cheeks warm and your heart beat faster. That’s when Mason turned around, still deep in conversation with Kane, not noticing what was happening just a few feet away.

“Don’t worry,” Levi continued, lowering his voice as if he were about to share a secret. “I won’t say anything, if you don’t want me to.”

“Levi, you’re... you’re straightforward, aren’t you?” You tried to keep your tone light, but the tension between you was palpable.

“I’m not here to lie,” he said, his smile becoming more intimate. “And you? Will you pretend that I didn’t affect you, even a little?”

You lost your breath for a moment. His confidence was disarming, but there was nothing arrogant about him. He was just a man who knew exactly what he wanted, and in that moment, that something was you.

The problem? You wanted him too.

And here you are in a random room kissing.

You lost your breath for a moment, your heart pounding faster as Levi looked at you, his dark eyes full of an intensity you had never seen. A part of you tried to maintain control, but another part, the one that could no longer ignore the desire burning inside you, pushed you to get even closer to him.

Levi smiled, his gaze locked onto yours as if he could read every thought running through your mind. "You know," he said in a low voice, "I'm not usually one for these kinds of games. But when a woman is this... captivating, it's hard to resist."

You couldn’t hold back any longer. Without thinking too much, you moved closer, feeling his warm breath on your skin as you looked at him with a mixture of desire and curiosity. And so, without a word, you found yourself with your hands gliding over his taut muscles as he pulled you even closer, until his soft, yet firm lips pressed against yours in a kiss that made you lose track of time.

You couldn’t believe what was happening. Every movement, every touch, every single exchange of breath felt more intense, more enveloping. Levi’s kisses were... a thousand times better than those you had ever shared with Mason. There was something overwhelming about him, a passion that warmed you like a fire and made you forget everything else.

His hands, warm and sure, explored you with tenderness, but also with a strength you hadn’t expected. And you responded, letting desire take over. Every kiss was an explosion of emotions that swept over you, a connection that felt like it went beyond the body, as if every part of you were in sync with every one of his moves.

"I don’t want this to end," Levi murmured, his voice a whisper that made you shiver. His gaze deepened, as if he were trying to read every fragment of your soul.

You looked at him, your mind confused but also incredibly clear in that moment, aware that everything happening felt so different, so new, yet you felt more alive than ever. "Neither do I," you replied, the words feeling like an admission more than you wanted, but it was too late to turn back.

And so, in that dark and silent room, your bodies drew closer together, and the kisses became more intense, more wild, while the world outside seemed to fade away. Every beat of your heart mixed with his, and there was no space for regret or the disappointment you had felt with Mason. In that moment, there was only Levi, and his touch that made you feel desired like never before.

You were completely enraptured by his kisses, every movement seemed a spell that enveloped you, making everything else disappear. His breath mixed with yours, and the intensity of each touch sent you into ecstasy. You felt his hands exploring you, but it was never enough; you wanted more, you wanted more than all that warmth, that closeness.

With a natural movement, your hands lifted, looking for her curly hair. As soon as your fingers grabbed them, you pulled him closer, feeling his head bend under your touch as your lips met hers again. You couldn’t stop yourself, the desire grew and made you forget everything else. Each of his kisses seemed deeper, more intense, and you couldn’t help but respond with the same passion, as if it was all you ever wanted.

Levi seemed to feel your every movement, every breath, and he responded with the same strength, with the same desire. His hands moved on your back, drawing warm lines under the dress as his body came closer and closer to yours, as if he could not help touching you.

His mouth came off of yours for a moment, leaving you breathless, but not for long. "You’re having fun, aren’t you?" said, his rough and sensual voice, the smile that was seen on his lips made you tremble.

You nod without words, seeking once again her lips, hungry for her kiss. Every gesture, every caress seemed to increase the desire to feel more of him, to feel every part of his body in close contact with yours. You felt alive, more than ever, as if it was the only thing that mattered, its touch that made you forget everything, as if the outside world no longer existed.

His hands rose slowly, caressing your neck, raising desire like a wave that could not stop. It was as if your body were following him, wanting him, and could not help but respond to his every impulse. And at that moment, you realized that not only were you forgetting Mason, but you were abandoning all thought to let Levi go completely without reservation.

Levi gently laid you on the bed as he lifted your dress and moved your panties to the side and licked your pussy. You moaned as you looked up at the pleasure Levi was giving you.

He had a skillful tongue and was licking your pussy like a hungry man and you were enjoying every moment.

"Levi" you moaned as you lowered your head and saw how she was sucking your pussy and licking it. You were so wet for him you could feel it.

Levi looked up and moaned at your fucking face. You tightened your thighs on her face wanting more and more of her face in your pussy, it looked so good in the middle of your thighs.

You put your hand in his hair and pull it making him groan and his moaning vibrates on your pussy making you come in his mouth and his face.

Before he completely broke away from your pussy, he gave him a last kiss and then stood up as he licked his lips and you groaned at his sight.

"Fuck Mason is so stupid, you’re fucking perfect" he said as he stuck his lips on yours and you moaned feeling your taste in his mouth.

When you broke off the kiss, you helped him take his belt and jeans off and he took off his boxer shorts and moaned at his cock. It was three times the size of Mason’s. He saw your reaction and smiled as he rubbed his cock at your wet entrance making you moan.

"Now I’ll get you to fuck properly," he said as he shoved his cock into you, making you scream and bow your back.

He groans and you looked at him, seeing his lost expression of pleasure as he grunted and pushed himself inside you. "so fucking tight, it seems like you’ve never been fucked" you moaned as you felt Levi pushing harder inside you.

Levi lowered the cups of your dress and your bra to suck your nipples and you were screaming like a crazy for the pleasure he was giving you. At that moment you didn’t care if anyone could get in or even if Mason could find out what you were doing, Levi was making you feel so good it felt like you were on another planet.

His thrusts became stronger and stronger as you were hammering inside and you were beginning to see the stars as you said his name like a prayer and song.

"You’re taking it so well, keep going baby" he muttered and then lowered his head on the neck biting and branding you.

You couldn’t care less that he was leaving stains on your neck, he could do what he wanted and you would let him do it.

Levi could hear how excited you were about this and he smiled. "I bet Mason never fucked you so well, huh?" he said putting his hand on your neck and holding it as you looked at each other. You moaned more for contact and as confirmation of what he had told you.

He smiled and gave more taps faster and you scratched his back making him moan.

"Open your mouth" he said in a whisper and you immediately did what he told you to do and he spat his saliva into your mouth and you immediately swallowed.

He smiled as he pushed harder. "What a good girl, I don’t even have to tell you what to do because you do it of your own free will" Levi whispered and then again attack his lips with yours.

He slipped his tongue into your mouth while you were moaning and sucking his tongue making him moan and as you were kissing he pushed his cock ever more strongly always on your g point and you came on his dick.

Levi was coming too and he watched you as he nibbled on your horseradish. "Where do you want me to come?" he murmured in your crotch as he groaned. "Inside me, please Levi come inside me" you prayed to him and he smiled while boobing and spilling inside you covering all the walls of your pussy with his sperm.

You never let Mason come inside you and you never let him fuck without a condom but with Levi it was different. He had awakened a part of you that you didn’t know existed.

He still buried inside you kissed you again while you made the rubbing on his neck. "You’re mine now, Mason can say goodbye to you," he whispered near your lips and you nodded as you moaned because he was biting your lip.

[taiey]

a minor analysis of Manepear's manipulation (mane-ipulation)

A few thoughts to frame the discussion: Clownpierce has the mace; Clownpierce has not yet died. Clownpierce doesn't log on very often, and of everyone on the server Clownpierce is closest to Kaboodle.

With that in mind... 1hr 13min into 'A New Leaf..?', after a lot of open honest conversation about the war, morality, honour and Mane's potential as an interior decorator, Kaboodle brings up her constancy towards Clownpierce and Manepear starts telling her she should put herself first, because Clown doesn't.

He starts with the basic, obvious facts: Clown doesn't log on very often, he's never attacked Mane for her, he's never sacrificed himself for her like she has for him. Even... Woogie..? backs him up on all that.

Then she starts bringing up counter-examples and he pushes back, with subtle mis-framings like "it would have been easy for him to say I searched for Mapic on purpose so that I could get back for you" when, like, I saw that video and I bet you did too, he said that to Mapicc, and not to Kaboodle. Or brushing off that time he did fight Mane's team as if there's "10 people he knows he's not going to get targeted and if he gets a kill on Main and Flame that would be huge for him", when, uh, it's not that Mane has specific knowledge that the other group chat was considering jumping Clown for the mace earlier in the day, but I do feel that dynamic is sufficiently common knowledge.

I've actually had this thought before because I thought that he was, I was, I was confident that he was betraying me cuz I was thinking like "why would Clownpierce betray and and use everybody except for me? how does that make any sense? why would I be the only one?" and it doesn't make sense like nothing would make me special

Drawing parallels digs into her fears without him directly saying she's not special so as to elicit sympathy and not offense. (and pay no attention to the dissimilarities in their relationships to clown)

I think it was easy for him to defend you from Subz because he knows that he can kill Subz but if it was me in that situation I'm not so sure if he would he would have done the same thing

(y'know i didn't actually notice at the time that uh that's a very different line than his Subz Glazing to Zam&Mapicc)

Mane: did he leave my alliance or did I force him out? Kab: you did force him out Mane: he didn't have a choice not to choose you Kab: yeah that's a horrible... Mane: [crosstalk] he could have at least shot me a DM—wait! Oh my gosh! I just remembered

Things I did not notice on first listen: sorry, when could he have shot you a DM? When you turned on him?? No, no, that segue makes no sense. Mane absolutely did not "just remember". DMs only came into this because he wanted a segue into: his climactic reveal.

When I was looking for your base, I told him about my, my plan to find you using dogs, and he was telling me how to do it more efficiently.

So. Let's look at [the screenshots that i copied off someone else o7]

The first thing that stood out to me, as I was watching the stream, was this: Mane says "he was telling me how to do it more efficiently", and then he lets Kab stew in that for a bit, and then he sends her these screenshots. The framing is set up. But there is not one line in there that is Clown giving Mane advice on how to track her.

The nearest he gets to advice is "she knows when you do tho". Mane glosses that to Kab as "he was telling me exactly what not to do as well", but listen: look at it. The closest he gets to advice is: maybe don't track her. Maybe you shouldn't even try.

Mane asked "what should I say", he relates it like it's another example of advice, which looks like it could lead to advice, and then the screenshot cuts off. And... it's shorter than the first one. We know for an absolute fact that the height is not limited by, say, the height of the screen. It cuts off there because whatever comes after that does not back up the narrative Mane's selling her.

Laughing about her, saying she's scared: it's emotionally affecting, but it's not actionable information. It does not help Mane find Kab. All it does is give the feeling that Clown is on Mane's side.

After exiting the conversation Kaboodle grieves to chat about it; she starts off thinking of it as"actively telling Mane how to find me is, is..." but a few minutes later she's caught on to "if you look at the messages he's not actively selling me out"; she has prior history of coming back the next day going hang on...

Very interested to see how far she gets with it. That thing with the dogs was streamed live; I watched it. The memory of it tickled at my brain, so after today's ended I tracked it down, and found:

Clownpierce: Did he find the manepears? What? Kaboodle: So all the manepears teleported to me when they hit, when he hit them. Clown: [AWKWARD LAUGHTER] Kab, fearless: I'm thousands of blocks away, I'm really far away. Clownpierce: Maybe they... they sometimes do move in the direction they teleport to, maybe he knows the location. Maybe - maybe move around.

Clownpierce was DMing Manepear saying "ok good idea"—and then, on a call with Kaboodle, telling her Mane's tactic and what to do about it.

:)

(He doesn't maximally betray Mane, he doesn't tell her he knows Mane's doing that or tell her before it starts happening; there's a degree of trying to stay on both sides. But he isn't neutral, and he is ultimately, materially, on Kab's side.)

I, like Kaboodle, saw Manepear's "removing all netherite" video and really enjoyed it (the twists genuinely surprised me) but there was this doubt where—videos and not streams usually feel this way to me—I wasn't sure whether, to convince the server that he wasn't the guy on his friend's account, he had to actually convince them. I just knew that was a kind of story he wanted to tell, and hoped he'd try it on Lifesteal.

Now, though, I believe it. I've seen maybe two other fandom people even doubting this. I believe he did because I see he can. And oh my goodness I love it.

[kpop---scenarios]

Walk All Over Me

Pairing: Kim Mingyu x Reader

Warning: Smut ( Oral, f. receiving & m. receiving, unprotected sex, cream pie.) Angst, Mean reader [18+ ONLY. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.]

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: You and Mingyu are friends with benefits, he wants more but you don't. And even though you're using him, he can't help but fall more in love.

This story was based off this song; Stay For a While by Victor Ray.

“You wanna dance with me?” You whisper into Mingyu's ear, your hand slowly caressing his arm as you stand so close to him. He feels like he's going to faint having you be so close to him. He was so fucking in love with you, he thought he might be going crazy from how badly he wanted just kiss you right then and there. But you had been very clear with him from the beginning that you guys were strictly a secret occasional hook up, nothing more and nothing less.

He accepted it at the time because he figured having you in this way was so much better than not having you at all but as time went on, his feelings were becoming harder and harder to contain. Mingyu smiles slightly at you, shaking his head no. He didn't want to put you in a position where the two of you might be found out by the others, even though that was all he wanted.

“I love this song!” You squeal, moving away from Mingyu, instead grabbing Seungcheol's hand, dragging him to the dance floor as Mingyu stays behind watching as you grind yourself against his leader.

This is what he gets, for being so fucking in love with someone who wasn't ready to settle down.

“So, uh, are you and Y/N together? What's going on between the two of you?” The8 asks, standing next to Mingyu who leaned against the bar, watching you still dance with Seungcheol. Mingyu glances down at the floor before smiling over at The8 and taking a sip of his drink. He was the only one Mingyu had told about you and how you and he had taken things to the next level. He was happy for the two of you at first, but now it seemed to him as if Mingyu was more into you than you were him. He knew The8 worried about it but Mingyu was confident… sort of.

“It's… it's complicated.” He laughs. “We sort of are.”

“I dunno man, from where I'm standing, it doesn't look all that complicated to me. It looks like you're just friends…like the rest of us.” The8 shrugs, walking towards the dance floor. Mingyu watched as you caressed Wonwoo's arm, watching as Seungcheol's hands roamed your body, stopping at your hips, pulling you in closer.

“Mingyu.” Wonwoo says, nudging the spaced out man. “We're heading back to Woozi's, you coming?” He asks. Mingyu sets down his forgotten drink, following behind the group, his eyes never leaving you. Not even when you linked arms with Hoshi, or when your hand intertwined with DK's, or when Seungcheol jokingly squeezed your ass.

Fuck.

Sometimes your loud, easy-going and outgoing personality made it really fucking hard for him to watch you be so friendly with his friends. You didn't ask them to stop or not to do those things, you embraced the attention, you loved it and he could see it on your face. Whereas he just wanted to shout how in love with you he was from the rooftop. All night Mingyu watched you with the others. Laughing and drinking. Glancing at him, giving him a sly wink, being flirtatious from afar. The way he just wanted to rip your clothes off in front of everyone and fuck you while they watched was unhealthy, but fuck did he want you so fucking badly. He would do anything for you, be anything for you and you were very much aware of how he felt.

A while later, Mingyu wandered off to the bathroom, trying to contain himself and calm down. It was getting harder for him to see you flirting with others and he didn't know how much more he was going to be able to take. He walks out of the bathroom, his head down until he stops in his tracks, seeing a familiar pair of shoes in front of him. His eyes trail up, seeing you leaning against the wall, drunkenly looking at him.

“I was wondering where you disappeared too.” You smile, moving closer to him. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling his head down to your level. “I don't think you know how much i fucking want you.” You whisper in his ear, nibbling on his earlobe. You move your hand to his chest, slowly running it down, over his abs, gently into caressing his dick.

“Y/N!” You hear from around the corner. “Come take a shot!”

You laugh, quickly pressing a kiss to Mingyu's lips before running off, laughing at the cheers of your return. Mingyu knew something needed to change between the two of you and if he wanted more he was going to have to be the one to bring it up. He heads back to the group, trying to insert himself in conversations and games, doing his best to try to not pay as much attention to you but it didn't last long. He had the worst fucking time trying to peel his eyes away from you, eventually he just gave up and went to bed in one of the spare bedrooms instead. He fell asleep rather quickly, the alcohol having made his head spin a little too much.

Hours later, he's woken up by a light rapid knocking at the door. He rubs his eyes, slipping out of bed, opening the door as his hand runs through his hair.

“Y/N?” He mumbles.

“I need you so bad, baby.” You moan, looking at him with puppy dog eyes. “Don't you need me too?” You whisper.

“Fuck.” He hisses, pulling you inside the room, slamming the door with your body. He pins you against the door, his lips quickly attaching to yours. His kiss is sloppy, so needy as he slides his tongue into your mouth. You wrap your arms around him, pulling him closer to you. You needed to feel him, all of him. Mingyu wastes no time, pulling away from you. He grabs your wrist, turning you and pushing you down onto the bed. The light from the moon shines into the room, giving the two of you limited lighting but it was just enough. He pushes your dress up, pulling your panties down from your body, throwing them anywhere. He pushes your legs open, diving right into your already wet cunt. You grab the sheets of the bed, moaning loudly as Mingyu licks your pussy, sucking on your clit, making your eyes roll back onto your head.

“Oh… Oh my fucking god.” You cry out, arching your back as you orgasm quickly approaches. “Don't… Fuck… please don't stop.” You whine, grabbing his hair, pulling him in closer. You grind yourself on his face, your orgasm exploding through your body. You scream out as you cum, your juices seeping from your pussy. Mingyu happily laps up everything, before sitting up, licking up all the juices from his face.

“You're so good at that.” You breathe, sitting up, smiling at the sexy man. You push him down onto the bed, pulling his sweats from his body, letting his already hard cock spring free. You lick your lips as you bend down, licking his cock from base all the way up to his tip. You take just his tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it, making him groan. You slowly take more and more of his cock into your mouth, until you can't take anymore. His tip hits the back of your throat, making you gag. Mingyu moans at the sound, grabbing the back of your head and thrusting up a few times before releasing your head, letting you up for air.

“Fuck baby, i love when you take all of my cock.” He groans. He sits up, pushing you down onto the bed on your hands and knees. He moves your dress up once again, exposing your bare ass. He gives you a few hard slaps before he lines himself up with you, pushing his cock inside of you.

“Oh shit.” You groan. You love the way his cock stretches your pussy. “My god.” You cry, as Mingyu pulls out, and slams back inside of you.

“You feel… so fucking good.” He groans, his fingertips digging into your hips as he speeds up his thrusts, ramming his cock inside of you over and over again.

He reaches under you, pulling down the front of your dress, letting your tits fall out of your dress, gently pinching and groping you nipples as he continues to fuck you. You moan loudly, moving your own hand between your legs. Your fingers touch your sensitive clit, making you groan as you rub it while Mingyu fucks you.

“Right there… Oh fuck… yes, fuck.” You cry out, your second orgasm building quickly.

“You take my cock so fucking well… like the dirty little slut you are.” Mingyu moans, fucking you harder and faster. “You wanna fuck everyone else too, don't you?” He groans.

“No baby.” You whimper. “Just you… ah, fuck…”

“Mhmm, that's right… just me.” He breathes, throwing his head back as he quickened his pace again, desperately chasing his own high.

“Cum for me… cum all over my cock, baby.” Mingyu moans, holding you tighter. You rub your clit a little faster, bringing you over the edge again. You cum hard, clenching your cunt around his cock.

“Good fucking girl.” He spits, grabbing your hair, yanking your head back. “That's right.” keeps his pace, his orgasm right there. He keeps going until he finally cums, spilling himself inside of you. He groans loudly as he slowly pumps in and out, making sure to give you everything he has.

He finally pulls out and you both collapse onto the bed. Your chests are heaving, you can't hear anything else but the two of you breathing, except for faint voices of those still awake in the living room.

Mingyu's stomach is in knots as he thinks about bringing up wanting more from you. He knows now probably isn't the best time but it was now or never in his mind. He turns his head to look at you, watching you lay there with your eyes closed, trying to settle down.

Mingyu quickly stands up, putting his clothes back on before he turns on the light. You squeeze your eyes closed harder, not wanting to be blinded yet.

“Y/N…” He breathes, looking down at you. You finally open your eyes, looking towards him smiling.

“Mingyu.” You giggle.

“I want…Fuck.” He breathes. You can see the nervousness plastered on his face. “I want… No, I need more. From you. From this. I want… Well, I want to be your boyfriend.” He breathes. “I'm so in love with you…” He trails off.

“Oh.” You sigh. Mingyu can see the rejection coming plastered all over your face. “You know I'm not looking for anything more than just this. We were just having fun.” You murmur, sitting up in the bed, standing up to find your underwear.

“I want to take you on a date. Just one date. Let me prove I'm the man you should be with.” He sighs. “Tomorrow night.”

“Mingyu… i -.” You pause. “I can't tomorrow. Um, The8 actually asked me on a date earlier tonight. And I said yes.” You whisper.

You didn't realize the depth of his feelings for you. While you liked Mingyu and you liked when the two of you fucked around, you weren't looking for anything else… With him.

“So you wont go on a date with me because you don't want anything serious but you'll go with The8?”

“Yes.” You whisper.

“Why?” He yells, standing up, facing you. “Why the fuck am I not good enough for you?” He yells.

“Woah, where the fuck is this coming from?” You yell back, stepping away from him. “You knew exactly what the fuck you were getting into when we started this.”

“Yeah I did and now I need more from you!” He yells.

“I… I can't give you more, Mingyu.” You whisper.

“Why not?” He asks. “Why can't I have more? Why can't I be your boyfriend? Why can't you just give me a chance? Please Y/N, just one fucking chance!” He says.

He's about to talk again but you cut him off, you're over this conversation already.

“Because you'd make a shitty fucking boyfriend, Mingyu. Your pretty face and amazing dick game can only get you so fucking far in life. And this begging me is a complete turn off. Your person is out there but it sure as fuck isn't me.” You snap, grabbing your panties and storming out of the room, leaving Mingyu standing there feeling even more in love with you than he was before.

[littleprinces]

Day 28: Office Sex

IVE Rei x Male Reader

Kinkvember day 28

Sorry for latepost

The office was quiet, save for the distant hum of the city outside. I sat at my desk, eyes scanning a spreadsheet that held little interest for me. My mind was elsewhere, consumed by thoughts of Rei. She had been my secretary for a few months now, and every day I found myself more and more drawn to her. Her smile, her laugh, the way her eyes sparkled when she talked—it all drove me wild. Today, I decided, I would act on my desires.

I called her into my office, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside me. "Rei, could you come in here for a moment?"

She entered, her heels clicking softly on the polished floor. Her eyes met mine, and I saw a flicker of surprise. "Yes, Mr. Thompson?"

"Please, call me Jamie," I said, leaning back in my chair. "And you can close the door."

She did as I asked, her brow furrowing slightly. "Is everything alright?"

I stood up, rounding my desk to stand in front of her. "Everything is perfect, Rei. I've been thinking about you a lot lately."

She blushed, looking down at her feet. "I... I don't know what to say."

I reached out, tipping her chin up so she had to look at me. "Say yes. Say yes to this." I leaned in, brushing my lips against hers. She hesitated for a moment before responding, her lips soft and warm against mine.

I deepened the kiss, my tongue exploring her mouth. She moaned softly, her hands reaching up to tangle in my hair. I pulled her closer, my hands roaming over her body. She was wearing a tight skirt and a blouse that hinted at her curves. I wanted to see more, to touch more.

I broke the kiss, my breath ragged. "Rei, I want to fuck you."

Her eyes widened, but she didn't pull away. "Jamie... I'm not sure..."

I smiled, my fingers tracing the line of her jaw. "Let me convince you." I kissed her again, my hands moving to her blouse. I unbuttoned it slowly, my eyes on hers. She didn't stop me, her breath coming in soft gasps as I revealed more of her skin.

Her blouse fell open, and I took a moment to appreciate her lacy bra. I ran my fingers over the lace, making her shiver. I unhooked it, and her big breasts spilled out. They were perfect, firm and pert with rosy nipples. I couldn't resist leaning down to take one in my mouth.

She moaned, her hands gripping my hair. "Jamie... that feels so good."

I switched to the other breast, my hands moving to her skirt. I unzipped it slowly, her eyes on me the whole time. I slipped it down her legs, leaving her in just her heels and panties.

I stepped back, my eyes raking over her body. "You're gorgeous, Rei."

She blushed, but she didn't look away. She looked confident, sexy. "Thank you."

I sat down in my chair, pulling her towards me. "Come here." She stepped between my legs, her hands on my shoulders. I could feel her heat through her panties, and it was driving me crazy.

I kissed her again, my hands moving to her ass. I squeezed, pulling her against me. She moaned, her hips grinding against mine. I could feel her wetness through her panties, and I knew she wanted this just as much as I did.

I broke the kiss, my eyes locked with hers. "I want to taste you."

She bit her lip, her cheeks flushing. "Okay."

I pushed her gently so she was lying back on my desk. I moved between her legs, my hands on her thighs. I could see the wet spot on her panties, and I groaned. I hooked my fingers into the sides and pulled them off, revealing her pussy.

She was shaved, her pussy lips glistening. I leaned in, my tongue flicking out to taste her. She was sweet and salty, and I couldn't get enough. I lapped at her, my tongue circling her clit. She moaned, her hips bucking against my mouth.

I slipped two fingers inside her, curling them up to hit that spot. She cried out, her hands gripping the desk. I fucked her with my fingers, my tongue working her clit. She was close, I could tell.

"Jamie... I'm gonna come..." she panted.

I redoubled my efforts, my fingers moving faster. She came with a cry, her body shaking. I licked her through it, not stopping until she was boneless and panting.

I stood up, my cock aching. She looked up at me, her eyes heavy-lidded. "Your turn," she said, a wicked smile on her face.

I unbuckled my belt, my cock springing free. She sat up, her eyes locked on it. She licked her lips, and I groaned.

"Come here," I said, my voice rough. She did, her hands wrapping around my cock. She stroked it, her eyes on mine.

"You're so big," she said, her voice breathy.

I smiled, my hands tangling in her hair. "And you're so wet. I can't wait to feel you."

I pushed her back onto the desk, my cock at her entrance. I rubbed the head against her clit, making her moan. Then I pushed in, slowly, giving her time to adjust.

She was tight, so fucking tight. I groaned, my hands gripping her hips. I started to move, slowly at first, then faster. She met my thrusts, her nails digging into my back.

"Yes, Jamie, yes," she panted. "Harder. Faster."

I obliged, my cock slamming into her. She was screaming, her body shaking with each thrust. I could feel my orgasm building, and I knew I couldn't hold on much longer.

"I'm gonna come, Rei," I grunted. "Come with me."

She nodded, her body tensing. "Yes, yes, I'm coming..."

I thrust into her one last time, my cock pulsing as I came. She came with me, her body shaking as she screamed my name.

We collapsed onto the desk, our bodies slick with sweat. I pulled her against me, our hearts pounding in sync.

"That was..." she started, but she couldn't find the words.

I smiled, kissing her forehead. "Amazing. And we're not done yet."

She looked up at me, her eyes shining. "Oh really?"

I grinned. "Oh really."

I flipped her onto her hands and knees, my cock already hard again. I rubbed the head against her pussy, making her moan.

"Jamie... I don't know if I can take more," she said, her voice breathless.

I chuckled, my hands on her hips. "You can. And you will."

I pushed into her, her pussy still wet from our previous encounter. She moaned, her body arching back against me. I started to move, my hands gripping her hips.

"Deeper, Jamie," she moaned. "Deeper."

I obliged, my cock slamming into her with each thrust. She was screaming, her body shaking with each thrust. I could feel her pussy clenching around me, and I knew she was close.

"I'm gonna come, Rei," I grunted. "Come with me."

She nodded, her body tensing. "Yes, yes, I'm coming..."

I thrust into her one last time, my cock pulsing as I came. She came with me, her body shaking as she screamed my name.

We collapsed onto the desk, our bodies slick with sweat. I pulled her against me, our hearts pounding in sync.

"That was..." she started, but she couldn't find the words.

I smiled, kissing her forehead. "Amazing. And we're not done yet."

She looked up at me, her eyes shining. "Oh really?"

I grinned. "Oh really."

[thememestrider]

Come Back to Me - Mephiston x F! Reader

Wrote this for the beautiful @solspina : I hope I did your man justice :)

Sypnosis: Following a psychic breakdown, the only person who can bring Mepheston back from the brink is his beloved.

C/W: Blood, angst, reverse hurt/comfort, I've only read Dante's novels so my knowledge of Mephiston is second hand at best, I did do some research and I'm confident in how I wrote him but I apologise in advance for the inevitable ooc and lore inaccurate moments XP, unedited so probably errors and typos scattered about.

Mephiston bleeds.

Blood flows untempered from his nose. It leaks from his ears. The taste of copper coats his tongue and fangs, and tears streaked with red tumble in streams down his cheeks. His soul is bleeding, too. Punctured by the warp, he can feel what little is left of his humanity pouring out into the void to be devoured by the unspoken horrors that call it home.

But he does not stop. He can't. For if he were to fail now, the flagship Covenant of Baal, as well as half of Lord Dante's entire fleet would be lost in the warp forever.

His brothers are relying on him to get them home. Trusting him to get them through the warp unscathed. He must not fail them. He mustn't.

"Lord Mephiston!"

A deep voice made tight by fear breaks through Mephiston's reverie. A space marine; a librarian. Mephiston searches for a name, but his mind hasn't the strength to find it.

"My lord!" the librarian shouts again. "The ritual is unstable. We must leave the warp. Now!"

"No." Amplified by the warp and his own, growing fury, Mephiston's voice booms like a war drum. "Baal is close. I can feel it. A few moments longer and we will be there."

"You'll kill yourself, my lord! Or worse, you'll-"

Mephiston cuts him off with a growl. He knows what the librarian is insinuating; that should he loose control of his powers, he could kill everyone on this ship. The marine isn't wrong, Mephiston understands that better than anyone. But that doesn't stop it from stinging just a little when it is brought up.

Which is why I must succeed now. I must not fail my brothers. I must show them they can rely on me. That they can trust me.

The librarian continues to shout his warnings, but Mephiston is no longer listening. The pull he feels towards his destination is strengthening. When he looks out through the infinite dark of the void before him, he can see Baal outlined in red.

So close.

Pain takes him in a vice-like grip. His body seizes. Daemons rake their claws down his soul. They're feeding off his power, he realises. Preparing to use him as a gateway into the material world. In his weakened, exhausted state, Mephiston isn't sure if he can fight them off.

Through the cloud of psychic agony, he remembers words spoken to him by Lord Dante, just days ago.

"You are my friend, Mephiston, but know this. Should you ever become a threat to this chapter or humanity at large, I will strike you down myself."

Dante had said it as a vow. Not only as a leader, but as a friend. It pains Mephiston as much as the creatures tearing into his soul. He wonders if the librarians are seeking out the chapter master so he may fulfill that vow now.

A daemon sinks its fangs into him. He feels them puncture his hearts and shear through what's left of his strength. He screams. Eyes slamming shut, chest heaving from the pain. His mind is determined to hold on, but his body is failing. The strain is too much. It seems the librarian- still Mephiston can't recall his name- had been right.

"Meph? Can you hear me?"

I am sorry, my brothers. I am sorry, my beloved. I was not strong enough. I believed that I was, but I am not.

Her voice cannot hope to pierce the cacophony that is the warp. Yet, somehow, it does.

"Just focus on me, Meph."

Throne, her voice is beautiful. It was one of the first things he'd noticed about her. Wielding both strength and kindness in equal parts, just like her heart.

"You can do this, Mephiston," she says to him. "You can break free. You always do. Just come back to me. Like you always do."

Mephiston opens his eyes. Amidst the haze of psychic madness, the planet Baal remains tantalisingly near. But Mephiston is not searching for it any more. He's searching for her.

"I love you, Meph," she says. "I love you so much. No matter what happens to you or how much you change, I love you all the same."

In spite of everything he is enduring right now, her words pull at Mephiston's hearts like nothing else ever could. It drive him to go faster. Push harder. Tear his way free from the warp and get back to her. It means cutting the warp-jump short; there will be questions from the captains, maybe even Lord Dante himself. It means failing his duty, failing his brothers. But Mephiston does not care. He would rather fail them all a thousand times than cause his woman pain.

The shift from the warp to the real is near instant, and far less physically taxing that vice versa. Typically, it'd be as simple as opening one's eyes. But Mephiston is weakened, his body on the brink of total failure. The real world returns with the force of a whip, and immediately, Mephiston's world is dominated by agony.

The Lord of Death falls to his knees. Blood spills from his eyes and nose. His long silver hair clings to the sweat pouring off his shoulders and chest. His vision blurs. The room begins to spin. Again, Mephiston feels himself falling. This time, though, a pair of soft, nimble hands catch him.

"Easy, Meph. Easy. I've got you."

Her tone is gentle. Her voice, as soft as her touch. Her body trembles under his weight. In spite of his hurts, Mephiston pushes himself upright so as not to lean on her anymore. She frames his face with her hands. He can see tears in her eyes. "Gauis!" she shouts. "Fetch an Apothecary."

The librarian called Gauis nods and takes off without another word. Mephiston realises he was the same librarian who'd been shouting warnings at him before.

With Gauis gone, it is only the two of them here, now. It's then that she throws her arms around Mepheston's neck and drags him into a crushing embrace. "You silly, silly man," she whispers. Mephiston realises she is weeping. "Don't you ever do that to me again. Ever."

She squeezes him tighter. The sleeves of her shirt are growing stained with his sweat and blood, but she doesn't seem to care. Though he barely has the strength to raise him arms, Mephiston returns her embrace in earnest. "I am sorry, my sweet." His voice is thick with fatigue and emotion. He hates it when she cries. He hates it even more when he is the cause. "I thought I had it. I have done this so many times before, I-"

"I don't care." Arms still wrapped around his neck, she draws away just enough so as to meet his eye. Her hands find the base of his scalp. Ever so gently, she strokes him there. "The next time Gauis tells you to cut a ritual short," she tells him. "You listen. If not for your own safety, then for my own peace of mind."

Mephiston looks at her. Since his transformation, his hearts have lost much of their capacity for compassion. But what shreds are leftover belong solely to her. Every piece of him that is still human, still a man, loves her as fiercely as they possibly can. All of this, he lets show in his face. It almost moves him to tears. "I will," he says. "I promise."

She smiles at him. It's the most gorgeous thing he's ever seen. Ignoring the blood plastering his face, she leans in and kisses Mephiston, so fiercely it makes his jaw ache. Mephiston struggles to return it in kind, almost tipping over backward from the force with which she presses into him. He winces as the room sways again. She catches his head and guides him to the floor. "It's okay, Meph. You're okay." Gently, she lowers herself down beside him. "The Apothecary will be here soon. For now, just rest."

Without thinking, Mephiston reaches for her hand. She takes it in both of hers and squeezes it tight. "Thank you, " he murmurs.

She brushes her lips across his knuckles. "You know you don't need to thank me. Not now, not ever."

[jarl-deathwolf]

EXCELLENT!

Ooo that is a lot of FANTASTIC information, I pulled up a document and got to work taking notes. I'll have to spend some time sorting it out into a handy reference sheet but even as-is this will help a lot.

I'm really glad I asked because this includes a lot of details that I wouldn't even know to ask, like the acidic/neutral/alkaline distinctions between forests. Between that and the wet/dry divide, now I can look at a map of around where the characters are and sus out roughly what they're looking at. It really does take away a lot of the stress when

Better yet, it gives me options so I can pick some possible environments to suit what I need in the story. Like choosing a wet forest if I need treacherous terrain, or a Celtic Rainforest to enhance the splendor of a moment.

Best of all, this gives me a vocabulary of things that I can then look up references for, and a bank of plants and animals I can pull up to add life to a scene.

One thing I've really struggled with in this story has been giving the region its own distinct feel compared to other woodlands. Which is doubly important since the entire story revolves around people desperately trying to save it (and their culture) from being destroyed by colonization and conquest.

That section was pretty thorough, so I'll have to digest it for a while before I've got more questions there.

Anyway, getting into more specific comments, as well as the map, below:

(map by @noanieactuallydrawingalot) So this is the continent where the stories take place as a whole. I may or may not have made the Fells (Fantasy Wales) something like five times as large as its real counterpart. Here is more specifically the Fells, with the three big rivers named (I assume there are many more rivers and small lakes, these are just major ones) and the historic realms of the Fells marked out

I've tentatively named some broader regions, but I'm not confident about those just yet. Red dots denote major cities. The yellow line is where the old empire's borders were - those five Fellish realms are still fully under foreign rule, with four more ruled by Marcher Lords, which is just more tenuous foreign rule.

Let me know how I did with the geography and such! I've done a lot of free time studying and took a college course about it, but things like the effects of ocean currents and wind patterns always tripped me up. Anyway, I'm glad I ended up pretty close with Old Man Ash. I think he would be fine with the informal version - the other name he gets called in the story is Grandad, so I get the sense he cares more about people being comfortable in his presence than formality. Although keep me updated on if your inlaws have a different opinion - I'll need to contact my editor to update the PDF, so I'd rather do that just once. With what you said about broadleaves being exclusively what makes up the old growth forests, I wonder if that would mean that all Dagfolk would be based on broadleaves? 🧐 Since I'm sending pictures, here is the (now properly named) Hynafwr Onn:

(art by dinwardo over on twitter)

Before I move onto the next thing, just a quick question: I have another Dagfolk (like Grandad up there). His current placeholder name is the Great Oak, and he's considered the wisest and most powerful of the Dagfolk. A personal friend of King Arthur.

I don't suppose you'd have a suggestion for a name?

I am delighted that you bring up bards because I made the main character a Fellish bard by the name of Llywela ferch Marared. She plays a crwth and I like to have her make subtle references to Welsh songs like Sebona Fi and Yma O Hyd. I gave her uncommonly red hair to imply a connection with Annwyn.

(I realize that's not the usual spelling of Annwn, but I chose it so I wasn't directly cribbing mythology and making it harder for people to learn about those myths) I also have some commissioned art of Llywela, plus the Lady of the Lake and the Merlin analogue, for what it is worth. You mentioned faeries with the peat bogs. I don't think faeries will be making a huge appearance in this story (mostly just one knight), but I'd be glad to hear about Welsh-specific faerie lore if you've got it on hand.

You also said that cheeses were a big Welsh cultural touchstone. Are there Welsh specific varieties that you can tell me about? And what sort of dishes are they made into?

Also on that train of thought, you mentioned a plant that flavors mead - would that be the go-to alcohol of choice, or are there others floating around? Both for a lord's table and what you might find in an inn.

And thanks again for the response, this really has been a treasure trove of great information for me!

Hi hello! I'm writing a story in my original world, set in a Fantasy Wales. A King Arthur Returns type story, if that matters.

I was wondering if I could ask you some questions about Welsh ecology? And possibly also some cultural details?

Thanks ahead of time! And I understand if you decline or don't respond!

YES OH MY GOD YES HELLO

[30somethingautisticteacher]

Can't sleep, and this post from @v88sy inspired me.

****

Tommy had never been a deep sleeper, and his line of work made it even worse. He was more than used to the klaxon pulling him from sleep, signaling that they had a call. But that didn't prepare him for the pounding on his front door.

BOOM BOOM BOOM

Tommy looked at his phone. 12:46.

Silence. Then more pounding.

"Wake up Tommy, piece of—"

Tommy pulled open the door. "Hey Buck."

"Don't you 'hey Buck' me," came the angry response. " I'm not Buck to you. 'm Ev-n."

Oh. He was drunk.

"Okay, you're right. Hi Evan."

"You ruin-d it, T'mmy." Buck slurred, swaying slightly. "You blew us up and It's not fair."

"I'm so sorry, Evan."

"I went on some dates."

"Oh yeah?"

"Hated 'em."

"You did?"

"They all sucked," Buck mumbled.

Tommy raised his eyebrows.

"Not like that," Buck slurred, waving his hand dismissively. "They were stupid and boring."

"Really? All of them?"

"They weren't you."

"You don't want me, Evan," Tommy said quietly, his voice heavy with resignation.

"Why do you get to decide that?" Buck's voice rose with frustration. "I'm a grown man. Why do you get to tell me what I need and what I feel?"

"Evan, I'm not—" Tommy tried to interject.

"Why don't you want me?" Buck's voice cracked as he started to cry.

"Evan, that's not—" Tommy reached out instinctively but stopped himself.

"I went on a date tonight," Buck announced, his words still slurred but clearer now.

"I kinda figured," Tommy replied softly.

"He was handsome and charming." Tommy flinched at Buck's words. Buck's voice dropped to almost a whisper, "And it was awful. All I did was talk about you the whole time."

"Evan—" Tommy began gently, but Buck cut him off.

"He got frustrated. Said I was wasting his time," Buck's voice was hollow. He paused, swaying slightly. "And I was. There's no one after you, Tommy. So if you won't have me that's fine, but you're still my last. I'm giving up on love."

"You don't mean that," Tommy protested.

"Don't tell me what I mean," Buck's voice rose sharply before breaking into louder sobs. "I love you, and you ruined me for everyone else. You showed me what the world could be, and then you ripped it away." His next words came out in a rush, raw with emotion. "I am so mad at you, Tommy. But I still want you. I wanna be your boyfriend."

"You do?" Tommy's voice was barely above a whisper.

"Have you even been listening, dumbass? I'm yours. I will always be yours whether you want me or not."

"We need to talk," Tommy said carefully.

"Yeah, no shit," Buck retorted, but there was less bite to his words now.

"How about we get you inside and sober you up, and then we'll talk. Really talk."

"You mean it?" Buck asked, vulnerability creeping back into his voice.

"I do."

"Wait," Tommy reached out and wiped a stray tear off Buck's cheek. "You didn't drive here, did you?"

"Of course not. I'm clearly drunk off my ass."

"Fair enough."

"I walked. It was like 3 miles. Helped me get good and mad."

"You walked?" Tommy's voice rose with concern.

"I had to get to you and my fingers couldn't figure out how to order an Uber."

"Oh sweetheart," Tommy said softly.

"You called me sweetheart!" Buck's voice brightened despite his tears.

"Yeah, I guess I did."

"You loooove me," Buck sang out, swaying slightly.

"Evan, let's go inside," Tommy said, fighting back a smile.

"Whatever you say, boyfriend," Buck replied with drunk confidence.

Tommy shook his head fondly as he guided Buck inside. They were still broken, and it was going to take a lot of work to repair them, but Tommy knew now that they were both willing to fight for it.

[labyrinthofsphinx]

SHOW US! SHOW THE LITTLE HUMANS BEING FILLED WITH SEPARATION ANXIETY!!! SHOW US ALL!!! (✪ω✪)/

Anon asked: Oh no, I'm getting ideas xD Just imagine Cannon Vox and Al taking AU Vox and Al and a week passes. A week full of all kinds of shenanigans, XD which ends with demon bois having to give them back cuz they got too chaotic, depresso (and murdery)

But also imagine it was all part of an elaborate plan to get their cannon selves to actually talk to each other about their beef xD

Anon asked: Well, now I want to see the canon characters dealing with the consequences of separating the two of them.

@girl-with-many-fandoms asked: I absolutely love the main storyline and all the one off comics and art you do but I am becoming more and more obsessed with the canon + AU interactions! 😍😍😍

Anon asked: I feel so behind on posts, the joys of packing and moving lol:

Awwww the way Canon Alastor looked when your Vox said with such confidence that canon Vox probably knows little details about Alastor (like the coffee order) was so sad to me. It kinda looks like he doesn’t believe his Vox had ever cared to know those things. Like even before any falling out.

I bet you your Vox would have a field day if he had caught that unsure look and felt any Alastor had been made to feel anything but happy by a Vox.

Okay, quite a few people asked for more continuing AU\Canon stuff sooooo I’m splitting it up again XD. Here’s AU Vox and Canon Al:

And next up will be AU Al and Canon Vox. Thanks for all the asks!