#I’ve sure someone has done this before with them

[love-quinn]

THE GOOD WITCH

[coming soon!]

featuring . . . ! patrick zweig, art donaldson, remus lupin, rafe cameron, steve harrington, spencer reid, aaron hotchner, tasm!peter parker, dodge mason, dave lizewski

─── hello hello how are we ??? i’ve been a huge maisie peters fan for a few years now, and since she’s been teasing her next album i thought i’d do something fun to kind of commemorate the good witch before we move on to MP3. i’ve also been experiencing some major writers block :/// so! to combat that, here are some fics that are VERY VERY loosely inspired by some of the songs from the album <333 i hope you enjoy !!

TRACK ONE : THE GOOD WITCH [patrick zweig x reader]

when all i do is think about the past, create a universe that you can live in

you’ve done a lot of growing in the 4 years you and patrick have been broken up. you’re hoping he has as well because you’re still desperately in love with him.

TRACK TWO : COMING OF AGE [dave lizewski x reader]

baby i am the iliad, of course you couldn’t read me. so i’ll leave you behind but that don’t mean it’s easy

dave’s had a crush on you since he could remember, but he’d driven you away with his superhero duties. you’re the TA of his class and he’s determined to get it right this time.

TRACK THREE : WATCH [spencer reid x reader]

nobody actually happy and healthy has ever felt so desperate to prove it

you’re trying to show the team that you’re fine after spencer’s return from prison. if you were coping well, you probably wouldn’t have to try so hard.

TRACK FOUR : BODY BETTER [art donaldson x reader]

i can’t help thinking has she got a better body? has she got a body better than mine?

your boyfriend patrick is convinced that you have a thing for tennis players. you say the same about him. it doesn’t help that you’re both sleeping with one.

TRACK FIVE : WANT YOU BACK [remus lupin x reader]

and what was cheap to you, to me was all i had. the issue is i know all of this and i still want you back

remus was punishing you for something that wasn’t your fault. you should hate him. unfortunately, you can’t bring yourself to.

TRACK SIX : THE BAND AND I [dodge mason x reader]

told her you were just a friend, told her i was homesick. i hadn’t thought of home twice

after moving across the country to go live with your aunt and participate in panic, you’re wary of the boy who works at the diner she owns. he’s wary of you too.

TRACK SEVEN : YOU’RE JUST A BOY (AIKTM) [aaron hotchner x reader]

don't you see what i'm giving up and you can't even text? don't be surprised now i'm giving up, god, what did you expect?

aaron isn't a bad boyfriend, he just tends to get caught up in his job. you wouldn't mind his constant abandonment so much if he didn't always forget to tell you.

TRACK EIGHT : LOST THE BREAKUP [tasm!peter parker x reader]

so, i'm feeling and i'm dealing with the heart you broke, while you do press-ups and repress us and take off her clothes.

for peter parker, you're it: the one that got away, the best thing that ever happened to him. now that you're broken up, he expects that you hate him. he could be right; you can hate someone and still need them to save your life.

TRACK NINE : WENDY [rafe cameron x reader]

then you're evasive on the phone until you're sorry on the floor. so i'm throwing you a bone cause you want me and you're sure. if i'm not careful i'll wake up and we'll be married and i'll still flinch at the sound of a door.

it's been unspoken and set in stone for as long as you'd known each other: you and rafe were in it for the long haul. you've loved rafe since you were young. now that you've grown up, your feelings haven't changed, you're just waiting for him to grow up as well.

TRACK TEN : BSC [steve harrington x reader]

i'm gonna throw you down the river, your mom can watch it over dinner, golden boy you've dropped the ball. i am annie fucking hall. if you don't love me, what was april?

steve thought breaking up with you after his experience with the upside down would be his best bet of keeping you safe. unfortunately for him, you don't know how to keep your nose out of his business.

these will come out every so often depending on how well they do lmao i hope u like them ik this is different than the stuff i’ve done so far :]]] ty to @robinsgrl and @xxepherr for letting me yap abt these as much as i like :]

[bjwmastermind-writes]

ch.5 - fences and cities - dbf! joel miller &f!reader

series masterlist

previous chapter

A/N: Has it been that long?? It feels like ages but i have no concept of time to be honest. You know what they say, save a horse ride a cowboy...well

warnings: dad best friend! trope, large age gap (reader is early 20's and Joel is around late 40s, p & v, unprotected sex it wasn't planned but wrap it before tapping don't be like them, cockwarming, finishing inside, angst. I can't think of any more warnings but if you think I'm missing any let me know.

mdni. i am not responsible for what you choose to consume.

do not copy, translate or claim any of my works as your own.

You wake up with a headache pounding behind your eyes like someone’s playing drums on your skull. The kind of hangover that tastes like regret and tequila. You sit up slow, tongue dry, the memory of last night fuzzed around the edges.

Bar.

Shots.

Joel.

Joel’s hands on someone else—her laugh too loud, her nails tracing his arm. Your throat still burns from the jealousy that bubbled up like acid.

And then… fuck.

You told him. You confessed. Somewhere in the haze of liquor and impulse, you cornered Joel like a damn idiot and told him everything. That you wanted him. That you’d been wanting him.

And he kissed you.

Pushed you up against the wall, his thigh wedged between yours, your hand—

You shove it away, your own hand sliding down your stomach instinctively before you catch yourself. Nope. Not going there. Not while your head’s pounding and you’re still unsure if it was real or a hallucination courtesy of one too many whiskey shots and a decade of repressed tension.

But you remember one thing clearly.

Joel wanted it too. You felt it. Saw it. It wasn’t one-sided.

You spend the day pretending to be fine.

You show up at the stables, waiting to see him, maybe talk it through like two emotionally responsible adults. But he’s not there. You ask around and one of the older guys, Mark, says Joel called in sick.

“Sick, huh?” you mutter. “Yeah, sure.”

So you do his list anyway. Feed the horses. Clean the stalls. Sweep the damn barn even though no one’s asked you to. You think if you just stay busy, maybe you’ll stop thinking about the weight of Joel’s hands. Maybe.

You don’t.

By the time you’re done, the sun’s slipping down and your shirt smells like hay and sweat. You don’t care. You hop on your bike and make the ride to Joel’s house with more determination than logic.

You knock on the front door. No answer.

You try the back.

And then—

“Jesus, you tryna break into my house now?”

You scream. Spin around like a startled cat. Joel stands behind you, a brow raised, a smirk twitching on his face.

Without thinking, you throw a punch.

“Shit—OW!” he yelps, jerking back as your fist connects with his cheekbone.

“Oh my god! Oh my god, I’m sorry—fuck—Joel, are you okay?”

He’s scowling, hand on his face, wincing like a man betrayed. “You just clocked me.”

“I thought you were someone else! That was like—a New York reflex!”

“Damn, remind me not to sneak up on you again,” he mutters.

Inside, you sit him down on the couch and press a half-frozen bag of peas against his cheek. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“Stop apologizing, doll. I’m fine. Not the first time I’ve been hit in the head.”

“Still,” you say, not meeting his eyes. “You didn’t show up to work. I got worried. Thought you were… avoiding me.”

He doesn’t answer at first. Just watches you, unreadable.

“You were worried about me, doll?” he asks, teasing it out like it’s nothing.

“I guess,” you mumble. “I thought maybe you were ignoring me after… last night.”

There it is. The silence thickens. You’re about to take it back, joke it off, but Joel reaches out and takes your hands—gently, like you’re something precious.

“Listen,” he says, voice low. “Last night was…”

He pauses. Searching for the word. You see it flash across his face—mistake—and panic flares in your chest.

But then he shakes his head.

“...intense,” he finishes. “Unexpected. Not a mistake.”

You look up at him.

“Not a mistake?” you echo, barely breathing.

“No,” he says, thumb brushing your knuckles. “Not even close.”

His thumb brushes your knuckles, warm and rough, and the way he looks at you—it’s not friendly. It’s not even safe. It’s the kind of look you should never get from a man like him.

Especially not Joel.

Especially not your dad’s best friend.

“Not a mistake,” he repeats, holding your gaze like it’s something he’s waited years to say. “But maybe... something we should slow down on.”

You freeze.

That’s it. The out. The safe path. The “this-can’t-happen” speech you were half-expecting since the second your lips touched his. You nod, even though your stomach twists into knots.

“Right,” you murmur. “Because... it’s wrong.”

Joel exhales, but doesn’t let go of your hands.

“Not wrong,” he says. “Just complicated. You think I haven’t thought about this? About you? For longer than I should’ve?”

Your heart stutters in your chest.

“But you’re... you’re my dad’s friend,” you say, voice a little more broken than you’d like.

He nods. “Yeah. I am. Which is exactly why this scares the shit outta me.”

He leans back, breaking the touch. You feel the absence like a slap.

“I was there when you were just a kid,” he continues. “Watched you grow up. Watched you leave and come back with that New York mouth and attitude.” He smirks, then softens again. “And then I saw you. Really saw you. And it was like something shifted. I can’t pretend it didn’t.”

You sit with that. Let it echo.

“I don’t want to sneak around,” he says. “I don’t want this to be dirty. I want it to mean something. But if we’re gonna do anything, it has to be when I can look your dad in the eye and not feel like a bastard.”

You nod slowly.

“Okay,” you say. “So what do we do?”

Joel stands, runs a hand through his hair. “We take a step back. Cool off. You keep working at the stable. I keep my distance. And we try—really try—not to make this harder than it already is.”

You nod, even though every cell in your body is screaming no.

He walks you to the door.

And just before you leave, you turn.

“Joel?”

“Yeah?”

“If we’re stepping back… does that mean you’re not gonna kiss me again?”

He looks at you like he’s seconds from cracking.

Then he opens the door.

“Go,” he says, voice thick. “Before I do.”

You turn to leave, his words still lingering heavy in the air. Go, before I do.

And maybe you would’ve.

If he hadn’t said it like that. If he hadn’t looked at you like he was barely holding himself together. If the silence between you wasn’t so loud.

But then—he moves.

One step. A breath. And his hand wraps around your wrist, pulling you back, pulling you in. And when he kisses you, it’s not soft. It’s not thoughtful. It’s hungry.

You gasp against his mouth as he pushes you back inside, slamming the door shut with his foot. His hands are on your waist, your face, your hips, everywhere, like he’s trying to memorize you with his palms.

“You shouldn’t have come here,” he mutters, dragging kisses along your jaw. “You knew what this would do to me.”

“Then stop,” you whisper, breathless, eyes wild. “Tell me to leave.”

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he lifts you effortlessly—strong arms under your thighs as he sets you down onto a wooden table near the entry, something solid and forgotten under the chaos. It creaks under your weight, but neither of you care. His hands slide up your shirt, calloused fingers brushing over your ribs, and your hips move without thinking, grinding down against him.

You’re still in your work clothes, smelling faintly of hay and sweat, and he’s still in those worn jeans that somehow make your mouth dry—but none of that matters.

You rock against each other, friction and frustration and years of “no” turning into a very loud, messy yes. His forehead rests against yours, his breath ragged.

“Goddamn,” he whispers. “You feel—fuck, I don’t even have words for it.”

But then, like someone flipped a switch, he stills. Hands tightening around your hips. Head turned like he’s listening to something only he can hear.

“Joel—”

“I think it’s best we slow down,” he says, voice hoarse, like dragging each word out of him hurts.

You blink, lips swollen. “No.”

He looks up at you, stunned.

“I don’t want to slow down,” you say, shaking your head. “I’m sorry, but no. I don’t want that.”

His jaw tenses. “Don’t be stubborn. I’m telling you—it’s what’s best.”

“For who?!” you snap. “You? My dad? Because it’s not for me. I’m not some clueless teenager, Joel. I’m twenty-four. Jesus fuck.”

He steps back, dragging a hand over his face.

“I’m not treating you like a child, for god’s sake,” he growls. “I’m just trying to be the responsible one here. Older, wiser—”

“Oh, fuck you,” you breathe, grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him back in.

And that’s it.

Something in him snaps.

He kisses you again, this time rough, bruising, like the idea of not having you is unbearable. You’re tugging at his belt, his hand is under your shirt again, and it’s desperate, filthy, real. You knock something off the table and neither of you even glance down.

The table creaks with every movement.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispers against your neck, even as his hand slips lower.

You don’t.

You bite his shoulder instead.

You’re both panting, lips swollen, your shirt halfway up your chest. The table beneath you groans like it's about to collapse, and Joel—god, Joel is everywhere—his hands gripping your hips, his thigh still pressed between your legs, his mouth moving along your collarbone like he’s starving.

But then he pulls back just long enough to mutter, “Not here.”

You barely have time to whine in protest before he’s lifting you off the table, strong hands under your thighs again, carrying you like you weigh nothing. You cling to his neck, noses brushing, and you’re both half-laughing, half-breathless.

The moment your back hits the couch cushions, the air shifts again. Less frantic. More focused.

He hovers over you for a second—hands braced on either side of your head, breathing hard, trying to hold onto the last shreds of whatever control he thinks he has left.

But your fingers are already tugging at his belt.

And he’s done pretending.

He sinks down onto the couch between your legs, his jeans rough against your thighs as you wrap yourself around him again. You rock together, slow and heavy, friction hot enough to burn. The layers between you are too much and not enough, and Joel’s eyes are locked on yours like you’re some goddamn miracle.

“You drive me crazy,” he murmurs against your lips.

“Good,” you whisper. “I want to.”

He grins, crooked and wild, and his hand slips under the waistband of your pants, dragging a moan out of you before you can stop it.

“Joel,” you gasp, arching into him.

“Shhh, I got you, baby,” he says, voice low and wrecked.

Your hips grinding up to meet his, his mouth at your neck, your fingers clawing at his back. He’s rutting against you like a man possessed, one arm behind your back to keep you pressed tight to him. Every little breath, every gasp, feels like a confession neither of you can take back.

The couch creaks. The same couch your dad has fallen asleep on a hundred times. Joel’s hand curls under your jaw, forcing your eyes on him.

“This what you want?” he rasps. “Me? Here?”

“Yes,” you breathe, voice wrecked. “You. All of you.”

He groans like that undoes him.

And it does.

He buries his face in your neck and you feel him press into you, slow, desperate, still fully clothed, still somehow more intimate than anything you’ve ever felt.

You don’t stop.

Not when the phone lights up with your dad’s name.

Not when Joel hesitates, staring at it like it’s a loaded gun.

And especially not when he answers it.

“Hey, man,” he says, voice tight, hoarse, one hand gripping your hip, the other holding the phone to his ear.

You’re already grinding down onto him, slow. So slow it’s cruel. You bite your lip to keep from moaning, every inch of him stretching you, pulsing inside you, and he’s trying to pretend like you’re not there—like he’s not inside you.

You kiss his neck. Drag your teeth along his jaw.

His free hand tightens on your hip, the other squeezing the phone until it creaks.

“Yeah, I’m good,” he says, voice strained, like he’s holding back a groan. “Just needed the day off.”

You roll your hips again, and this time he bucks up without meaning to. You both freeze.

He clears his throat.

You cover your mouth to stifle a laugh.

He shoots you a glare that makes your stomach flip.

“Uh-huh,” he says, listening, nodding like this is any normal conversation and not his best friend’s daughter riding his cock in his living room.

Your fingers slip under his shirt, nails dragging down his chest. You tighten around him, deliberately, and he chokes on his next breath.

You mouth, say it’s bad reception.

Joel blinks at you like he can’t believe you exist.

Then finally, mercifully, he coughs and says, “Shit—sorry, bad signal. I’ll call you later.”

Click.

He hangs up.

The silence that follows is heavy.

You’re still straddling him, still full of him, your fingers splayed on his chest. He’s breathing hard, his pupils blown wide, a flush crawling up his neck.

“What is wrong with you?” he growls. “You some kind of freak, fucking me while I’m on the phone with your dad?”

You freeze.

Eyes wide. Breath caught.

You can’t tell if he’s angry—or if this is just more of that Joel Miller brand of losing-control-in-real-time.

And then—

He grabs the back of your neck and pulls you in, kissing you hard.

Not angry.

Just wild.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he mutters against your mouth. “You’re gonna ruin me.”

You moan into his lips, grinding again.

“I want to,” you breathe, rocking deeper. “Let me.”

And then it’s chaos again—his hands on your ass, your legs tightening around him, mouths and skin and the slap of hips and heavy breathing as he fucks up into you like he’s desperate. Like he can’t help it. Like you’re his last goddamn chance at feeling alive.

The couch is rocking under you. His hands are everywhere. You’re close, both of you.

“Say it,” he growls into your ear, dragging you down harder. “Say who’s got you like this.”

“You, Joel,” you gasp. “You.”

He groans, like that’s the last thing holding him back—and then he’s gone, and you’re gone with him.

Joel’s head drops back, a groan ripped from his throat—deep, raw, wrecked—as he finds his release, clutching your hips tight enough to bruise. Ropes of cum fill your insides as you follow seconds later, your body arching into his, a trembling cry breaking from your lips, overwhelmed by the sheer feel of him, Joel feels the wetness before he sees it.

Joel pulls you closer, doesn’t pull out, doesn’t speak. He just rests his forehead against yours, eyes shut, as if anything more might shatter him.

“Christ,” he breathes. “You—”

But he doesn’t finish the sentence. Maybe he can’t.

You kiss his jaw, gently. And he holds you there, full of him, full of everything you both shouldn’t be feeling.

You’re both boneless and breathless, tangled up in silence on that cursed couch, he looks up at the ceiling and mutters, “I am so fucking dead.”

You laugh weakly, head against his shoulder.

“But at least you’ll die happy,” you whisper.

And he nods.

“Yeah. Real fuckin’ happy.”

You stay there.

Not moving. Not saying a word.

Your chest rises and falls slowly against his, your forehead resting near the hollow of his throat, where his pulse is still racing. You listen to it. Let it calm you down.

Joel’s hand is in your hair, fingers tangled and gentle now, like he’s afraid he’ll break you. Or maybe himself.

You press your nose to his skin, taking in the scent of him—woodsmoke and leather and sweat and something warm beneath it all that makes your eyes sting a little.

“How’s your face?” you ask softly.

He huffs a quiet laugh, the kind that rumbles in his chest.

“Well,” he says, rubbing his jaw, “you’ve got a strong arm, that’s for damn sure. Let’s hope I don’t bruise.”

You lift your head, frowning. “Joel.”

“I’m teasing, darlin’. Just caught me off guard.”

“I was trying to check the back door,” you mumble, cheeks hot. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“I know, I know. I shouldn’t’a snuck up on you.”

He tips your chin up and looks at you, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes. His thumb brushes your cheek, then traces down the side of your neck. He’s memorizing you—like if he does it slow enough, he can convince himself this is allowed.

“This is bad,” he mutters.

“Yeah,” you agree quietly. “Real bad.”

Neither of you move.

You’re still full of each other. Still too warm. Still buzzing.

But his hand doesn’t leave your skin. And your body doesn’t leave his.

You trace small shapes on his chest with your finger.

“Do you regret it?” you ask.

Joel doesn’t answer right away. He swallows, jaw tense, eyes fixed on the ceiling like it’ll hand him a better answer than the truth.

“I regret not being stronger,” he finally says. “But I don’t regret you.”

You close your eyes.

That’s enough. For now.

You stay like that a little longer, hearts beating in sync, sweat cooling on your skin, neither of you daring to move—because moving means it’s over. Moving means decisions.

The sun’s already started dipping when you finally drag yourself off him, reluctantly pulling your clothes back on. Joel stays seated on the couch, shirt half-buttoned, watching you like he doesn’t quite believe you’re real.

You smooth your shirt down, run fingers through your hair in front of the mirror, trying to look like you didn’t just commit a felony-level sin with your dad’s best friend on his living room couch.

Joel stands, moving slow like he’s sore—maybe he is. Maybe you both are.

He grabs his keys from the table. “I’ll walk you out.”

You nod, too quietly, pulling on your jacket. The silence between you is heavier than it was inside.

Outside, the air is cooler. Your bike leans against his porch rail. You walk toward it together, and he’s got that look on his face again—troubled. Careful. Too many things unsaid behind his eyes.

You grip the handlebars, but you don’t get on just yet.

“Are we gonna talk about this?” you ask, not looking at him.

“We should,” Joel says. Then adds, more quietly, “But I don’t think I can. Not tonight.”

You nod. Bite your lip. “Okay.”

He steps closer. Close enough that your arms brush. Close enough to smell him again. That same warm mix that clung to your skin earlier.

“You really gonna ride home lookin’ like that?” he asks, voice rough. “All flushed and fuckin’ glowing?”

You turn to him slowly, heart skipping a beat.

“You’re the one who made me look like this.”

“I know,” he murmurs, and there’s something like a growl beneath it.

His hand slips behind your neck again, fingers threading into your hair, pulling you in like he needs it—and this kiss is different. It’s not lusty or frenzied or greedy.

It’s aching.

Your fingers clutch his shirt, knuckles white.

He pulls away first. Barely.

“You need to go,” he whispers, breath hitching. “Before I drag you back in and we make worse mistakes.”

“I’d let you,” you whisper back, forehead pressed to his.

“I know.”

He kisses your cheek. Then your jaw. Then one last brush against your lips like a secret.

“Go.”

You swing your leg over the bike slowly, eyes never leaving his. You push off, start pedaling, heart pounding—and you don’t look back.

But you feel it.

His eyes on you the whole ride down the street.

Like he’s already regretting letting you go.

How are we feeling lads? I have to say I died midway when he's like who's got you like this. FUCK ME.

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[rista-senpai]

Distant hearts

pairing- Nagumo Yoichi x reader

summary: you are Takamura’s granddaughter, a well-trained assassin who never got the chance to shine. That was until one day, when The Order observed your skills and offered you a position in the association.

All new colleagues seemed happy, everyone but him. His dark coat, eyes, and hair all indicated how much he loved hiding. And how much he loved hating you, the opposite of him, who he considered had no right to be there—also, the one who hates how you make his heart skip a beat.

tags  & warnings-> reader is 19, Nagumo is 27, age gap one-shot, office au, forbidden love, enemies to lovers, playboy x sweetheart, angst and smut, Takamura is still everyone’s nightmare except Nagumo’s, mentions of blood, reader has awfully little experience, also there might be some Shishiba x reader here and there

status: ongoing

credits: fanart by @/chachaxx_x on X

CHAPTER TWO

The air in Japan’s national airport buzzed with more than just the scent of overpriced coffee and families navigating departure gates. There was a hum of tension, of anticipation—people heading out on adventures, reunions, escapes. Among them, you and Nagumo walked toward the restricted area that led to your private jet. Being assassins meant perks like that, but unfortunately, it didn’t mean skipping the walk through the airport… or avoiding the consequences of a certain very long night.

Your legs were screaming. Not from the weight of your baggage, but from the soreness radiating through your entire body. You’d done your best to keep it together, but right before you boarded, your knees buckled. Nagumo was quick to catch you—his veiny hands landing on your stomach, steadying you.

“Princess, you okay? Your legs are jelly. Nervous? Or…?” he asked, tone laced with suspicion and something smug.

“It’s nothing! Long night,” you muttered, trying to brush it off.

“Long night, huh…” he echoed, clearly not buying it. “Was it at least good?”

Your throat tightened as your face lit up with heat, memories flashing like wildfire.

You didn’t answer.

The Night Before...

You bolted to the door the second the bell rang.

There he was—Shishiba, in all his dangerously calm glory. Blond strands tousled, eyes sharp but warm. Just seeing him in your doorway made something inside you twist.

“Hey,” he greeted, casual, low-voiced.

“H-hey, s-senpai…” You replied, stumbling over your words like a schoolgirl with a crush.

A smirk tugged at his lips as he stepped closer, his minty breath brushing your cheeks. “Mind if I come in?”

��Please do. Sorry!”

He chuckled as he stepped inside. Your apartment suddenly felt smaller. Warmer. Tighter.

You weren’t even sure why you’d asked him over—only that the idea of facing the next day alone had felt unbearable. Shishiba noticed your nerves right away, and soon he was pouring you both a glass of your favorite red wine. That detail didn’t slip past you.

“Thanks for coming, senpai.”

“You’re welcome. I know Nagumo’s not easy. I’ve done more missions with him than I can count. He’s a walking disaster.”

“He is unpredictable.”

Shishiba huffed a laugh. “You’ll handle it. You’re Takamura’s granddaughter.”

“If only I were half as strong as he.”

“You’ve got something he never had,” he said, handing you your glass before settling next to you on the soft, grey couch.

“And what’s that?”

“A heart.”

You blinked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You care. You put up with Oki’s nonsense, you push yourself to be more, not for glory, but because you want to protect people. You carry that pressure and still look after others.” He took a sip, then added with a grin, “Takamura once set my desk on fire for skipping a mission to take Osaragi to a fireworks show.”

You stared. “That sounds… exactly like him.”

“But you? You wouldn’t do that to someone you care about.”

“And yet,” you said, unable to mask the flicker of envy, “you care about Osaragi.”

He tilted his head slightly. “Yeah. We’re close. It’s normal.”

Your eyes dropped. The jealousy slipped in, uninvited.

He noticed.

His hand found your thigh, fingers warm and grounding. You turned toward him, heart skittering, and found his face inches from yours.

“S-senpai?”

“You’re jealous.”

“Pfft! Me? Why would I be? There’s nothing between us, so…”

“Right. So you won’t mind if I do this.” He set both glasses aside and tugged you gently into his lap.

“Th-this is totally platonic, huh?”

“Perfectly normal,” he teased, voice dripping with mischief.

You tried to squirm away, but that only made things worse—his expression darkened with satisfaction as he noticed the growing damp spot on your lingerie.

“It’s not what you think!”

“Sweetheart… you’re this wet for me?” he murmured, fingertips brushing your jaw, his eyes locked on yours.

“Maybe…”

“I wonder how much needier you’ll get when I really touch you.”

His mouth trailed to your neck, kissing softly, then deeper, sparking every nerve. One hand slid under your shirt, slowly, reverently.

“Can I take this off?”

You nodded.

“Words, sweetheart.”

“Yes.”

Your shirt slipped off like it had never belonged there. Then your bra. His breath caught.

“Goddamn…”

You undid his tie slowly, fingers brushing each button open one by one. His gaze never wavered—hungry, full of heat.

He cupped your breasts, thumbs brushing sensitive peaks, coaxing gasps from you. Then his mouth, hot and sinful, took over, teasing until you were arching beneath his touch.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he whispered.

You could only moan, your voice catching.

Your skirt hit the floor. Your back hit the bed. The world tilted.

“You feel unreal,” he groaned. “So fucking tight. Like you were made for me.”

He thrust into you slowly at first, then deeper, harder, biting down on your shoulder as he buried himself inside you.

“S-Shishiba!”

His hand circled your throat, light enough to tease, firm enough to thrill. “Say it again.”

“Shishiba…”

“Good girl.”

His pace quickened—rough, relentless. He flipped you over, yanking your hips back as he slammed into you again and again.

“So fucking greedy for me,” he growled, breath ragged.

You couldn’t even speak.

“No smart remark?”

“Too good… can’t…”

He kissed you like a man starved, one hand tangled in your hair. His rhythm didn’t falter.

“Cum with me, sweetheart.”

“Yes—please!”

Present day...

You shifted in your seat, trying to ignore the heat spreading under your skin, the memory of last night’s chaos still fresh, still alive in every pulse. The hum of the plane and the steady rhythm of your breath couldn’t erase it, no matter how hard you tried to push it down.

Nagumo’s head remained on your lap, his warmth spreading through you like an unexpected fire. The damn man knew, and that made everything worse.

“You’re awfully quiet, princess,” he said, voice low and tinged with something dangerous. His fingers brushed against the hem of your jacket, close enough to send a shiver down your spine.

“I’m tired,” you muttered, hoping that was enough to keep him from asking more questions.

“Tired or wrecked?” he shot back, eyes narrowing as he tilted his head just enough to catch your gaze, his lips curling into something almost playful. Almost.

You swallowed hard, the tension creeping up your neck. The way he looked at you felt like more than just casual curiosity; it felt like a hunt.

“It’s none of your business,” you said, a little too quickly, but the words felt weak, thin against the weight of his stare.

“Oh, but it is,” he teased, his voice barely a whisper as he lifted his head off your lap and leaned in closer. The heat from his body was almost unbearable. “Everything about you is my business, sweetheart.”

The words hung between you, thick with something unspoken, something that hadn’t been there a second ago.

You were about to open your mouth to snap something back when the turbulence kicked in, throwing you off balance. Nagumo’s hand shot out automatically to steady you, brushing against your side with just enough force to make your heart skip. He looked at you—no, he studied you, like he was mapping you out in that moment, trying to figure out what the hell had you so rattled.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured, voice low. His fingers were dangerously close to your ribs now, just brushing the soft fabric of your shirt.

“I’m fine,” you insisted, but your voice wasn’t as steady as you’d like.

“Are you?” he asked, the question dripping with something you couldn’t place.

Your eyes flicked to his hand, then back to his face, knowing full well that if he decided to push you any further, you might just break.

You couldn’t decide if you hated him for it or loved him for it.

[beasangel]

“saltwater bruises”

⤷ rafe cameron x pogue!reader | angst, toxic romance, manipulation

💭 "if you didn’t care, why are you even here?"

summary: after what sarah told her what he had done, she needed to finish it, for once and for all. but rafe never made things easy.

my first post so i'm nervous but i hope you like it!!

You didn’t want to come back but you knew you had to. To finish it. So here you were, on the front porch of Tanneyhill again, shaking and stupid.

You didn’t knock, you never did.

He already knew.

The Cameron house was quiet. Expensive. Cold in that sterile, gold-plated way that always made your skin itch.  He was in the kitchen, barefoot, hoodie half-on, still damp from the shower. Like he hadn’t expected anyone.

Or maybe, like he knew it’d be you.

“You look like hell,” Rafe said casually, hip leaning against the island, hair unkempt in that way that used to make your heart race. But now only leaves a dull thud.

You didn’t waste time. “She said you tried to kill her.”

He didn’t flinch. “So that’s what this is.”

“She said you held her under, Rafe.

He scoffed, stepping a forward. You didn’t move.

“She says a lot of shit. Always has. You know how Sarah is.”

 “She was terrified.” you snapped.

He crossed his arms, eyes dark. “And you just believed her.”

“She’s your sister.”

“And she’s hated you from day one,” he said coldly. “Don’t act like that didn’t matter. She never wanted us together. None of them did. My friends, yours. I got it from every direction, Y/N.”

You hesitated, pulse loud in your ears.

“She played it up,” he went on, stepping forward. “You think she didn’t? You think she didn’t love getting to be the poor victim while making you question everything we had?”

“You’re twisting it,” you breathed.

“Am I?” He tilted his head. “Or are you just looking for an excuse to walk away before anyone else sees you back here?”

Your jaw clenched.

“I see what this is now,” Rafe said with a bitter laugh. “You’re scared. Not of me, of what it means if you stay.” He steps forward now only a step or two away. “So, you’re trying to make me the monster, just so you don’t have to admit you were in this deeper than you ever meant to be.”

You looked away. “It’s not just Sarah. It’s Peterkin.”

He went still.

“I know you did it.”

“You weren’t there,” he said flatly.

“John B said-”

“No. You were in my bed,” He smiled tightly. “They bailed. And I was the one who kept you close. But go ahead, throw that in my face, too.”

“It’s a pattern, Rafe. You don’t stop. You don’t care until someone’s drowning or dead.”

“I never touched you like that. Never would.” His voice was low, threaded with something almost vulnerable. “Don’t you know that?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t.

“I was messed up,” he said, eyes burning. “Sarah, she betrayed me. She betrayed our family. Took everything and ran off with him. And I lost it but that’s not who I am.”

“But it is,” you whispered. Head hanging down, not bearing to make eye contact. “That’s the problem.”

“And you think I wanted any of this?” he shot back. “You think I planned it? I was alone. You’re saying chose to carry this shit?”

“I’m saying I don’t trust you anymore,” you said, looking up with shiny eyes. “And if I’ve got even half a brain left, I’ll Walk out of here and never come back.”

He stepped closer, slow and sure, like he knew exactly how to move in moments like this. Now only an arm reach away.

“If you really want that,” he said softly, “then why are you even here?”

You froze.

“I mean, seriously, Y/N. You think I’m some psycho? Fine. You think Sarah’s a saint? Cool. But if you really believed I was dangerous, if you really wanted to be done…” He looked you dead in the eye, his face only a couple inches above yours. “You would’ve stayed the hell away.”

You wanted to scream. You wanted to punch him. But you couldn’t lie—not to yourself.

Because he was right.

You had come. You had walked through Figure 8 with your boots still muddy from the Cut, because something in you still needed to see him. To understand. To hear it from his mouth.

His head dips lower, lips brushing across your cheek.

Your breath hitched. He saw it.

“And now look at you,” he added, softer. “Acting like you’re better than me. Like you didn’t sleep in this house, wear my clothes, let me touch you like you wanted all of it.”

“I didn’t know who you really were.” The tears couldn’t be held back anymore, softly falling down your face.

“Bullshit,” he said, his voice dropping. “You knew. You knew I was fucked up and angry and reckless, and you still came back. You stayed.”

You blinked hard, face blotched with tears.

“Because when it was just us,” he murmured, brushing your jaw with his knuckles, “you weren’t a Pogue and I wasn’t a Cameron. We were just... ours. Weren’t we?”

He shifted, hands ghosting up and down your arms, gentle now.

“I don’t care what they say. JJ. Pope. Topper. Kelce. All of them had opinions. But you and me? That wasn’t about them. It never was.”

You were shaking.

“I know you’re scared,” he whispered, voice threading into something warm, fragile. “But leaving like this? Without even fighting for us? That’s not strength, Y/N.”

He tilted his head, voice barely above a breath.

“That’s cowardice.”

That word cut deep. You knew he meant it to.

You hated him for it. Hated yourself for letting it land.

“Rafe...” you tried to say, but it came out wrong, small and broken.

He leaned in leaving a faint kiss on your cheek. Soft. Reverent. And when he leaned back to move in, you didn’t stop him.

Because the worst part wasn’t that he’d hurt people. It was that he knew how to make it feel like he never would again.

And when he kissed you—slow, sweet, and poison-tipped—you kissed him back. Because my god poison never tasted so sweet.

[ceiling-karasu]

Yeah, and I think we can just make up parts of how our military works as well. Flower Hill appears to be a bit behind other nations, for instance.

I’m going to have to take notes on all that later, but thank you! Grayer instead of white does make sense, and I’ve done that a few times, but drafts keep ending up pure white for some reason. What pen did you use for the yellow there, by the way?

Hopefully someone has the cliff post. I really liked that one and thought it was really funny, lol. But that’s life I guess.

I’m about to go to bed so I’m on mobile so sorry for the giant pictures. I can’t make them small on mobile.

My new problem is that the older style helmets (without the quills) I have going on look like this (based off of early s1, based on that other post I had where I was talking about the heads looking different with the helmet styles, and thought I could base things off of that for the quill styles with the head being oval shaped. Well at least I managed to get it symmetrical):

Whereas the newer style helmets look like this (like I said the heads were just straight up round so it was a bit easier same it was cadian style):

And I’m kind of thinking I want a rounded head shape on the first one as well, but since it is based so heavily on early S1 and ovals I can’t visualize it, nor can I really visualize removing the sides of the helmet in the second photo.

I figure I can transform the first photo outwards into making it round and redo the face, or make a circle in a different layer on the second and line it up so I can remove the sides and add the s1 helmet. Basically I have a very vague idea of what I want/need to do but it will be another week or so before I figure it out. Otherwise I can just make a circle and restart from there. I figure I’ll get the quills out first before making changes. Or the s2 helmet can be standard idk.

The fur color is really annoying as well. I think it’s just going to have to be the same color as the squirrels since checking it against the eyedropper on screenshots shows the hedgehog fur is pink/red, human skin color, or the same as squirrels anyway.

And Like idk how I would feel about looking at this one constantly. Maybe the pinker versions can go to the pangolin.

Either way, I’m trying to work on Lightning Rod before I get back to this.

Wonsi might be sniping but I don’t know yet, lol.

Quill weakness due to illness in the womb is good. I have Bamsaegi smaller than other squirrels and keeping the brown coloration into adulthood due to his mother getting very sick when pregnant with him. I think it’s called fever coat, although it usually doesn’t last as long, but if permanent in fiction can make for some good explanations other than phenotype.

Otherwise, yeah, there’s a lot of research needed that I just don’t have time for right now so I won’t make them

Yeah it depends on how the PA cuts up the tissues. Fun shapes are usually by chance though.

I really hate change. It feels like my coworkers are embarrassed leaving most of the sectioning to me, but personally I’m super happy to sit down and do the same task every day while everyone else has to do something different.

It feels like when I read books I get that nagging thought that insolence doing something productive, like cleaning. I can’t even remember the last romance I read, except for Fragment by Warren Fahy. And that was like in the last few chapters of the book where the young woman who was heavily implied to be a lesbian (multiple paragraphs of her staring at others girls’ muscles, seeing the men as brothers) meets the old professor who has never shown any interest in a woman and suddenly they are staring at each other. It comes out of nowhere like he was forced to add it last minute. Hate it.

I’m not sure if I look scary or not, I just know I make weird connections to different things and very few people can understand how I made those connections. They made sense to me, but people think it’s wild. Although even I think Jago’s two minute creation was wild.

Yeah, I do make time to eat, usually around the same time each day. It’s hard to eat at 2/3 am so I get hungry later. I bring snacks to work and eat lunch at 11 if there isn’t work to be done. It’s hard to work when I’m hungry. Sometimes snacks will tide me over on those days I skip lunch. I pretty much just clock out and the sit down to eat though so it’s not like I skip it general, just on the clock. I get that half hour back though.

Hello :))

Here's a small sketch of Siwoo (Haven't drawn this man in ages)

A quick explanation of the sketch:

The Raliaen Mountain Crescent Base doesn't have a formal financial department or anything related to it. Aera has tried to ask for a financial department to be established, but the Central government told her that they can't spare any for her as her base doesn't need one. Aera knows that's a lie since she and Hyeonsik are stuck maintaining the budgets and resource allocation of the base. Eventually, Aera is unable to keep up due to higher number of suspected enemy spies being reported. Hyeonsik hates to do anything related to finance beause he hates money (long story). So, he just gives them to Siwoo who had studied a bit of accounting before. Siwoo is genuinely still confused on why he is given the documents. Hyeonsik does actually give Siwoo a bonus for doing them, so Siwoo can't complain.

One of many reasons Siwoo needs coffee.

[creamecream]

Scaramouche: “Fine. In light of what you did today, you can hug me for four-to-five seconds.”

Tartaglia: “FOURTY FIVE SECONDS!?!?!”

Scaramouche: “NO.”

Tartaglia, already smothering Scaramouche: “No backsies!”

[cb-writes-stuff]

Man. It’s awkward being romantic, but also having a platonic friend+ whom I love (/p) with absolutely everything.

‘Cause like, yeah, I like romantic stuff, but. I like that person more.

[rosicheeks]

😓🤬

[hayatoseyepatch]

Ｄｅｓｃｒｉｐｔｉｏｎ: Assigning positions I think the Love & Deepspace men would fuck you in. With twitter links! Mostly Inspired by Juno — Sabrina Carpenter.

Ｃｈａｒａｃｔｅｒｓ: Zayne|Rafayel|Xavier|Caleb|Sylus

Ｗｏｒｄ Ｃｏｕｎｔ: 3.5 k

Ｃｏｎｔａｉｎｓ: Multiple Characters x Fem!Reader

Ｃｏｎｔｅｎｔ Ｗａｒｎｉｎｇｓ: NSFW visuals (videos) in the links, penetrative sex (duh), unprotected sex, praise, degradation, mentions of breeding, use of pet names, manhandling, somnophilia (Xavier’s), cock warming (Rafayel’s), spanking, choking, marking, semi-public sex (Zayne’s).

Ａｕｔｈｏｒ’ｓ Ｎｏｔｅ: Happy New Year everyone! (੭ˊᵕˋ)੭♡ I feel like it has been an absolute MINUTE since I’ve written anything, and even longer since I’ve done headcannons. But with this most recent quad I’m feeling inspired. My writer's block has been absolutely insane someone please save me. I’ve never done this type of post just wanted to test the waters with something different. We also have so little on Caleb so his may not stand the test of time, but we shall see LMAO. Let me know what you think and I hope you enjoy! (ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ.ﾟ

Ｘａｖｉｅｒ － Ｓｐｏｏｎｉｎｇ

Xavier wasn’t sure how he slept at night before having you in his arms again. Rousing from sleep he couldn’t help but smile into the back of your neck, nose burying itself in the hair that rested at the base of your neck, taking a deep inhale of your scent. He never knew a smell could make him feel so at ease, but also stir up such heat in the pit of his stomach. His hands wandered your sleeping from, seeking out the warmth radiating from your skin. Nimble fingers slipping beneath the them of your sleep shirt, mind fuzzy and still glazed over with sleep. He was acting purely on instinct, and by the way you subtly arched your back into his touch as a large hand slipped beneath the swell of your breast — you were too.

The plush of your skin was so malleable beneath his fingers, thumb swiping the stiff peak of your hardened nipple as his lips kiss a trail up and down the side your neck. Swallowing a groan when his hips roll into the swell of your ass, not wanting to rouse you from your slumber just yet. His tongue slips past his lips to lick a fat stripe up the side of your neck before attaching his lips to the juncture where your shoulder met your neck. Desperation growing, the kiss was a mess of teeth and tongue, marking your skin as his hips continued to grind against you from behind. Xavier was so lost in the feel of you he nearly missed the groan that slipped from your lips and the way you began to grind back against him. Almost. Moving his lips to press against your ear, his voice is breathy and laced with yearning.

“Please bunny, need to be inside you, cant take it anymore.”

You were too groggy, still half asleep, so all you're able to muster is rolling your hips back on his own as your sign of approval. And that was all Xavier needed. Deft fingers pull your panties to the side, quick to also push down the waistband of his sleep pants, freeing his throbbing cock from their confines. He grips the base of himself with a shaky hand, using the head of his cock to part your folds. He allows himself a moment to swipe himself up your slit, collecting your wetness to use as lube. The head of his cock brushing your clit with every pass. Before long you finally felt the glorious stretch of him pushing past your entrance, sinking slowly inch by inch into your awaiting cunt. The both of you let out sighs of matched contentment as you take him to the base.

Xavier stays there for a moment, relishing the feel of your warmth engulfing him. However, his patience has its limits, and this yarning for you wins out as he begins to move. Xavier sets a steady pace from the start, using his grip on your breast and another on your hip as leverage to guide his thrusts, deep and shallow as his mouth continues it’s attention to the sensitive skin of your neck. Rocking his hips, angling them to hit that spot nestled deep inside you that has your vision blurring more with every pass. You knew neither of you would last long, not like this.

It seemed as if Xavier slept so much to simply replenish the energy needed to fuck you more. It was rare for you both to have a day off, and he didn’t intend on letting you leave this bed anytime soon. Not when your voice, airy and rasp from sleep, called his name so sweetly. Not when he could feel your walls spasming around him in an attempt to milk his cock for all he was worth. And especially not when you abruptly turn your head, lips slotting over his own in a desperate kiss, forcing him to swallow your moans as you came around his cock for the first of many times that day.

Ｚａｙｎｅ － Ｄｏｇｇｙ Ｓｔｙｌｅ

Zayne liked to consider himself a patient man, not one to lose his cool or one to give in when that patience is tested. But he is also a man, and everyone has their limits. Those limits being you coming into his place of work for your checkup lacking panties. He was suspicious from the moment you came in, wearing that smile that always alerted him to you being up to something. The small upward turn of your lips and poorly concealed anticipation lighting your features. He knew you better than anyone and always knew even the slightest change in you behavior. So as you sat on the examination table, he scrutinized you.

“What’s the matter? Is something wrong, doctor?”

That was his second inclination, the way you purred his profession title, as if the both of you did not share the same bed at night. With a lifted eyebrow he sanitizes his hands before sliding his gloves over deft fingers, scrutinizing eyes overlooking your frame. Taking this opportunity, you cross one leg over the under, the short length of your skirt revealing just whet you weren’t wearing underneath. Today had been a long day for Zayne, several surgeries and a booked schedule causing hm to miss his lunch. Hoping to get some reprieve with your presence he supposes at least it was thoughtful of you to bring him that lunch he missed out on.

 He wasted no time in locking the door to the examination room, coming to you in long strides before dropping to his knees. Strong, gloved, hands parting your thighs as he delves into your folds like a man starved. Zayne was usually a patient lover, taking his time to savor every part of you, making sure you’ve been thoroughly satisfied before indulging in his own pleasure. That was not the case today, eating your cunt until it was dripping with a combination of your arousal and his saliva, he stands to his feet. Not so much as bothering to remove his lab coat as he undoes his buckle. You only get a momentary glance of his cock before the world shifts. Using his strength to easily flip you over on the examination table. Bunching your skirt past your hips to expose your ass to his hungry gaze. A latex covered hand comes down on your ass in a harsh smack, fingers grasping the plump skin of your ass, using his grip to expose your dripping cunt to him. He sinks himself to the hilt with one harsh thrust. Leaning over to press his lips against your ear.

“You want to act like a slut, darling? Then I’ll fuck you like a slut.”

Zayne sets a steady pace from the start, relishing in the sounds he not only pulls from your lips but from your cunt as well. Loud squelching and the sounds of skin slapping against skin echo against the walls of the room. His fingers curling against the column of your throat, feeling your racing pulse beneath his fingers, as he uses his grip to aid in bouncing you back on his cock. He could feel the way your walls were fluttering around him, knowing the cut to your airflow with his earlier actions were sending you spiraling toward your release. Effortlessly he slides his free hand beneath you, fingers rubbing tight circles against your clit. Feeling you tighten around him coupled with hearing the begs and pleas that spill from your lips is all the encouragement Zayne needed. His hips lose the steady pace he had set opting instead to slap harshly and erratically against your own, chasing his high.

The sheer pleasure running through his veins is nearly overwhelming, spilling inside you with a groan. He was sure his sheer volume would be enough to rival your own, however he couldn't find it within himself to care too lost in the way you were making him feel. His hips continually rolling against yours even after he has spilled every last drop he had to offer deep within your walls, before the overstimulation he was giving himself becomes painful. He pulls from you, resting back on his heels, using a thumb to part you folds as he hungrily watches your cunt contract around nothing, his come starting to drip from your abused pussy, letting out a groan at the sight.

“How sweet of you to bring me lunch, darling. Now lets get you home for some rest, doctor’s orders.”

Ｓｙｌｕｓ － Ｍａｔｉｎｇ Ｐｒｅｓｓ

Sylus hated being away from you, between your job and Onychinus the both of you hadn’t been afforded the opportunity of spending too much time together as of late. Your opposing sleep schedules only aided in your recent separation, you coming home to him still asleep and just coming home as you opened your eyes. It was driving him mad. Pent-up frustration had his temper short and his trigger finger happy. So after an insistence from Luke and Kieran to return to your shared home early for the day, he would make no complaints. He hammed as he entered the home, seeing you just getting ready to tuck into bed. Eyes taking in the sight of you in nothing but one of his shirts, he was on you in an instant. Eyes rolling back at your scent, mixing with his own on your skin. Only to have you laid bare split open on his cock as quickly as he would allow himself to.

His hips don't falter, he keeps up his speed. Though each snap of his hips hitting deeper with each pass, angling his hips just right to find that sensitive spot deep inside your walls, grinning maliciously when he does so. His grip stays firm on the backs of your thighs keeping them pressed to your chest to reach the deepest parts of you. Loving the way your eyes roll back as you struggle to form even a coherent sentence from the way he used your body. His chuckle is deep, cruel, against your neck as you struggle to get out the syllables of his name. Coming broken between thrusts of his hips.

“Awh my poor little kitten, she’s getting her cunt fucked so good she can't even finish my name. Poor thing, here let daddy take care of you sweetie.”

He grins, reattaching his lips to your neck. Tongue, teeth, and lips marking the sensitive skin. He removes one hand from your knee. Eyes flickering with unbridled lust when our grip replaces his own, keeping your leg pressed where it was before he cold even obey you to do so. The thumb of his free hand slotting itself between your lips, eyes rolling back when your tongue circles the digit. Popping it from your mouth he used the coated wetness as lubrication to rub tight circles on your clit. Hips picking up pace in time with the kneading. His lips leave your throat capturing a sensitive nipple into his mouth, sucking on it harshly, aiming to overstimulate all of your sensitive spots in tandem. A loud cry falls from your lips, your unoccupied hand flying to your lips in an attempt to muffle the sound, lest Luke and Kieran hear your cries for their boss within their rooms. Noticing the hand you attempt to use to cover your mouth he grabs your wrist pinning it to the mattress next to your ear with the hand that was just overstimulating your clit.

“Sorry sweetie, I want to hear every cry, curse and whimper that falls from those lips, let me hear you kitten.”

He wastes no time returning the pace he had set, loud squelching and your moans filling the room like the sweetest symphony. The coil had been tight in his abdomen, but he would hold out, he wouldn’t allow himself to fall over the edge before you had. He picks up the pace once more, thrusts growing sloppy under the pleasure. His thumb quickens its pace pressing harder against the bundle of nerves. He groans loud and deep feeling your walls slam down on his cock eyes rolling back as whines and whimpers fall from his lips as your own release triggers his own. His body trembles violently as he topples over the edge painting your walls white. He slows his thrusts, body shaking as he overstimulates you both just a little bit before his hips are finally still. He releases your legs, quick to readjust your form wrapping you around him and pressing a long loving kiss to your lips.

Ｒａｆａｙｅｌ － Ｃｏｗｇｉｒｌ

You weren’t sure how long you had been sat here, when your boyfriend had asked if you wanted to sit with him while he finished his painting, you hadn’t envisioned that you would be doing that sat on his lap with his cock nestled deep inside you. Cock warming with Rafayel never ended in just that, his pleading excuse of “It helps me concentrate, cutie, please?” had you falling for it every time. Every shift in his seat, every time he reached over to dip his brush in the paint on his pallet, sent his cock deeper inside your drooling cunt. You were sure he knew it too, felt the way that even plugged with his cock, your arousal still leaked around you both. That he felt it dripping down his skin. You could only hope this was nearly as torturous for him as it was for you. By the sweat forming on his brow, and the way his paintbrush trembled in his grasp, you were sure it was.

And you would be correct.

It wasn’t long until the painting was long forgotten, Rafayel’s lips consuming your own, as if on a mission to lose himself in the embrace. Skilled hands removed your dress with ease, the lingering paint on his skin, staining your own as you hastily removed his shirt. His eyes zeroed in on the colors adorning your skin, a tangible reminder of his touch, he places a hand on your back to steady you, reaching over to coat his hand in the paint that was on his easel. He grips your wrist as he rolls his hips up into your waiting cunt, lips attaching themselves to the delicate skin of your collarbone, kissing a trail up to the shell of your ear. His hot breaths against the sensitive skin has a shiver raking up your spine in his grasp.

“Go on cutie, put your hand in the paint, want you to make a masterpiece on my skin, my muse.”

Grabbing your wrist, he dips your hand in the paint, just as he had done. A desperate whine slips past your lips when he thrusts sharply upward, hands gripping his shoulders, nails sinking into his skin in their grip. Using your hold on him as leverage to keep bouncing on his cock, the paint marking him, the sight of it on his skin makes your head fuzzy. Seeing the remnants of you on him has you touching him more, smearing the paint on his skin. You continue your movements, bouncing on his cock in time with his upward thrusts. Head dipping downward to capture a pebbled nipple between his lips, tongue laving over the bud as the sound of skin against skin fills the studio.

Your thighs tremble from the burn of exertion of your repeated movements. Sensing you were coming to your end, Rafayel comes to your aid. Hands gripping the plush of your hips as he fucks up into you, heels digging into the bar at the bottom of his stool to ground himself as he meets each one of your thrusts with one of his own. He knew your body like the back of his hand, every tremble, every quiver of your cunt, every desperate sound that fell from your lips he could identify as you nearing your end. His mouth switches to pay attention to your opposite nub teeth and tongue giving it the same treatment in time with the push of his hips. Pulling from you with a 'pop' to grit his teeth, baring down to keep his composure before you were able to release before him. He lets you pull him close hips snapping relentlessly thrusts growing sloppy as he feels your walls clamp down on his cock in your release. It sends him hurtling to his own release hips slapping violently against your own as he paints your insides with a loud scream of your name. His thrusts slow making sure he had filled you with every drop he had to offer. Heart racing, as his arms wrap around you and he pulls your trembling form to his chest pressing tender kisses everywhere his lips could reach.

“Such a good girl for me, cutie. Look at you, I think this might just be the most beautiful piece of art I’ve ever laid my eyes on.”

Ｃａｌｅｂ － Ｍｉｓｓｉｏｎａｒｙ

Caleb had always thought himself lucky to have spent so much time with you. He had the privilege of watching you grow, being by your side through so many monumental moments in your life. Birthdays, graduations, holidays — he got to spend every last one of them by your side. But the more you both grew older the more he realized you hadn’t seen him the way he had seen you, at least he hadn’t thought so. The way you had always treated him had felt so platonic, with no hope for you to ever see the way he had felt for you For him it was never platonic, being in love with you for longer than he could remember. And now, even as you both hastily pulled your lips from each other only long enough to rid each other’s clothes from your trembling bodies, he couldn’t believe you were finally his.

Caleb had dreamed of this for years. Having you like this, being able to touch you like this, seeing the way your face contorted in pleasure as you trembled beneath him. For once seeing him differently, not the sweet boy from your childhood, but as a man. Could only imagine the delicious way his name would sound not in the way he had always heard it but practically purred when laced with lust-fueled ecstasy. He was basking in it. The way you felt beneath his fingers as you trembled from his touch. Had fisted his cock on lonely nights to the mere thought of ever having you like this. Had spilled into his palm as he finished with your name on his lips.

But now he had you, and he had no plans on letting you go any time soon. He lets out a groan into your neck as he sinks into you, inch by agonizing inch until he was buried balls deep in your awaiting cunt. His eyes roll back at the way you greedily pull him in deeper, the fluttering walls of your cunt urging him to begin to move. He starts with deep shallow thrusts, wanting to savor the feeling of your welcoming walls after so many years of yearning. Needing to feel your deepest parts and enjoy every moment of being connected with you. However, he had his limits and the sweet way you cooed his name as you urged him on has him picking up the pace. His hips setting a steadfast pace, going deeper with each pass, gripping your hips as you call out his name.

He can't help it, the feeling of your velvety walls surrounding him, sucking him in for all he was worth, he throws his head back with another loud groan as he slowly withdraws his hips, pulling back until just the mushroom tip of his cock remains inside. With a perfect snap of his hips, aided by the sheer amount of wetness that had gathered to this point he enters back in with ease before picking up the pace again. His gaze returned to you, only to see how your arm was thrown over your face shielding you from him and muffling the sweet sounds spilling from your lips. Grabbing your wrist, he pins it firmly against the mattress beneath you, striking eyes boring into your own.

“Look at me, pipsqueak. I want you to keep your eyes on me.”

Caleb's voice came out gruff, desperate, as the pads of his fingers sank into the plush of your cheeks — forcing your gaze to remain locked on his own. The nickname you had heard your whole life now took on a different edge, sounding almost foreign to our ears.

“Need to see the look in your eyes as you lose yourself on my cock baby.”

Dividers, character banners, & writing by me. ૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა

Network tags: @pixelcafe-network @interstellar-inn

[exopelagic]

i can’t believe i managed to get fucking mono and didn’t even get it by doing anything fun

[the-bluestreak-cat]

My extremely personal red flag is if you’ve never lived independently.

Do not open tags it’s just a personal vent and I hit the tag limit (30) and that’s never happened to me before ajskdlf

[artemisiasmuse]

rafe cameron x sweet virgin!reader

she told you she celibate but she told me I can nail her shit

cw: mdni 18+, virgin!reader but has some other experience, lowkey a freak tho, toxic rafe, corruption kink : >, size kink, first times, rafe goes a lil crazy, sweetie pie reader x insane yandere bf rafe is lowkey my favorite trope

~ 6k words

a/n: happy valentine’s day my loves <3 i didn’t read this over and i’m so sorry if there’s hella mistakes i will fix it later! this may or not be self-insert yes even that part

the trouble all began with sarah cameron and her big mouth. well really both of you were to blame, but you’d think she would be quieter when her older brother was lurking around. you were older than her by a few years, closer to his age than hers, not that it mattered though, rafe treated you like you were practically wheezie’s age. you didn’t let it sting you any more you had long gotten over trying to be seen as a woman in rafe cameron’s eyes. or maybe you just stopped watching him, he’s always noticed you but you felt out reach, until now. when he overhears his sister’s words he almost breaks the glass of water he’s holding.

“a virgin at 19 looking like you do is insane” sarah looked you up and down as you tried on the dress you’d bought together at the mall. you got shy at her words, you knew she wasn’t judging you but instead genuinely in disbelief that men weren’t throwing themselves at you. you had long mastered the art of looking unapproachable and uninterested after too many bad experiences.

“stoppp is it so hard to believe, you know how bad it’s been for me?” he really hopes no one sees him leaning against the wall next to his sister’s door, he’d look like such a weirdo. wheezie would never let him live this down, she’d barely held back on letting his little crush slip before. if sarah ever found out he’d be in another hell.

“fuck you’re right, if they can’t make you come what’s the point?” rafe winced at his sister’s words, willing away the temptation to gag. he was trying to focus on the fact that no guy had made you come before instead.

“you’re awful, but i’m done with men for a long time. im gonna focus on college and not waste time on them.” he relished in the twisted feeling that no one could touch you, even if the losers before had a chance they clearly couldn’t cut it.

“righttt being in a dorm filled with horny guys is gonna make that easier.” sarah deadpanned and you shoved her, seeing her point. you hadn’t thought about it like that.

“okay leave me alone i’ve been successful so far”

“oh my god speak of the devil, john b’s calling me over, can you cover for me? i’ll be back in like two hours max, promise.” you were a little disappointed she was leaving you but you knew how difficult it was for her to see him without someone covering for her. you nodded and pulled out your phone.

“fine but i’m ordering pizza,” rafe didn’t know if he should be terrified or elated that you two would be home alone for two hours. why did it have to be today that the rest of his family fucked off? was this divine intervention?

“save me a slice!” rafe could hear his sister rustling around, getting ready to go, so he did the same.

“you’re gonna be too busy eating di-“ rafe promptly ran off at that. he’d heard enough, his imagination would run wild with this new information.

it was half an hour later when, like clockwork, rafe made sure to be near the front door for the pizza delivery. he paid and tipped the guy, while you were making your way down at the sound of the doorbell. he hurries back upstairs, nearly running into you on the stairs. your eyes trace his pretty features and then land on the box in his hands, shock and horror cascading your face. rafe can’t believe that you look so good even now, you’re wearing a crop top with seemingly no bra underneath and high waisted sweatpants. to him you look like a model.

“hey! that’s my pizza” rafe laughs and continues up the stairs, you turn on your heel and follow him up. you’re kinda hangry and your pizza being held hostage is not helping your mood.

“i just paid for it so i don’t think so.” you both reach the top of the stairs but rafe isn’t stopping, he’s going to his room instead. this won’t do, he’ll lock the door and slam it in your face, you quickly move to stand in front of him blocking the path to his doorway. rafe thinks it’s cute that you think that would stop him, he feels a bit stir crazy over how small you look gazing up at him

“i’ll pay you back!” your hands shoot up against the doorframe, blocking entry even further. he wants to tease you a bit more but the idea of sharing a pizza in his room is way more tempting.

“nah it’s fine just let me have some.” you release your blockade and let him move past you, still with his-your pizza in his hold, following him mindlessly. if you were less hungry you would’ve realized eating pizza with your longtime crush and best friend’s brother in his room sitting on his bed was in fact not a great idea. but that fleeting concern is out the window when he opens the box and you climb onto his bed like it’s second nature. rafe does his best to stay concentrated on the present, it’s difficult when your shirt rides up and a sliver of your stomach is displayed, it looks so soft and untouched and he really isn’t hungry for pizza, he never was.

“i was gonna offer anyways for the record.” you say it while picking up a slice and rafe mirrors your action, laughing at your tone.

“yeah sure you were princess,” you ignore the way his voice sounds, the way he says your name, the way his room smells like him and it’s making your head spin.

rafe watches you eat transfixed when you lick the tips of your fingers, he can’t believe that he’s struggling to control himself over pizza but your words are ringing in his head.

“rafe do you have any napkins?” you hold up your greasy fingers and he nods his head dazedly, getting up to grab some for you and taking the pizza box off his bed with him. you move to get off then, looking around his room, you knew he wouldn’t appreciate if you snooped through his things so you just look at the pictures on the wall, the books he has. rafe finds you standing near his desk when he comes back, wordlessly handing you the napkins.

“i always forget you have a motorcycle.” your head motions towards the helmet resting on the surface of his desk.

“i don’t use it as much now.” he leaned back against the footboard of his bed, arms crossed against his chest as he watched you look at his stuff. he couldn’t figure out why you were still in his room, were you that curious?

“can i ride it? i’ve always wanted to try.” yeah rafe might just pass out now. you don’t even know what you’re doing to him, head cocked to the side looking at him so innocently he can barely hold back much longer.

“sure but i gotta teach you the basics so you don’t crash.” rafe is proud of himself for even stringing a sentence together in response. you notice a slight flush to his cheeks and ears.

“okay that’s fair.” you turn towards him, mirroring his form and leaning back against his desk. there’s a few feet between you but rafe thinks it would be so easy to lift you onto the mahogany and kiss you until you can’t breathe. his shorts feel so restrictive and he’s grateful he’s wearing black. he can’t hold back any longer, he has to know.

"is it true?" the words come out rushed, unsure of if they should even be said in the first place. but rafe’s not a quitter and he doesn’t shy away from anything really, even if the past few hours feel like a dream he would have in middle school.

"is what true?" your head does that thing again like a puppy and he nearly keels over, you’re too adorable for your own good. his gaze flits away for a second, he has to commit. your trusting expression and your airy tone make it all the more hard.

"no guy's made you come before?" you blink in shock twice before covering your face with your hands. this must be the most embarrassing moment of your life.

"ugh you heard that?"

"yeah you guys aren't exactly quiet" you might have to kill sarah cameron in her sleep, if she even comes back that is. you don’t know why you answer him, you could have just ran away but the magnetic pull of rafe cameron coaxes you to answer.

"yeah it's true" you sound defeated and rafe has to hold back a snicker, he watches you peer through your fingers at him, watching his expression.

"well i can rectify that..you know for the sake of mankind and all" there’s a smirk on his lips as he says the words that will haunt you forever. you’re sure he’s just messing with you and you huff a breath of disbelief. did he know about your little crush? you’d been hiding it so well for the past few years!

"don't tease me, rafe" you step away from his desk, moving to leave his room. even if it was just the two of you in the house you’d much rather sit in sarah’s room or watch the tv than be ridiculed.

"i'm not, it'd be a shame if a pretty girl like you gave up on men, especially for me." it’s almost as if someone dumped a bucket of cold water on your head when rafe cameron speaks. pretty girl the first time he’s called you anything that might suggest you’re not just his sister’s friend. the world spins on its axis and you try to grasp onto his words, try to understand that he might be genuine but you can’t. there’s still that voice of doubt telling you he’s just messing with you. rafe watches your expression go from shock to disappointment, you don’t believe him. he supposes it’s not that believable when he’s been purposefully avoiding you for a while. you must think he’s just messing with you, but he’s dead serious. he’ll just have to prove it.

“whatever rafe i don’t have time for your games.” you mumble it and leave his room, slamming the door a bit harder than you intended. the next few hours are torture. rafe cameron planted an insidious weed in your mind and it’s growing exponentially.

of course it’s not the first time you’ve imagined it, you’d often thought about what his long thick fingers would feel like. or how his biceps would feel under your hands if you held onto them for support. you’d fantasized about every part of him, even the tip of his nose. so the idea that it might just be within your reach had you spiraling. you took a cold shower, not that it helped, your underwear was still soaked after. no guy you’d been with had made you so wet, let alone before even touching you. it was as if the universe was testing you. a sick thrum in your body had found its way into your bones, vibrating with need and you paced in your best friend’s room thinking over all the consequences.

when you’d reached the conclusion that even if he was sincere it was still a bad idea, your phone pinged. a text from sarah that read: “i’m gonna be staying the night here, if you’re already asleep i’ll see you in the morning 🤍” with all your internal turmoil you hadn’t realized it was past the two hours she’d said. she would be out all night. you and rafe were home alone, all night. you swallowed down the lump in your throat, your heart pounding your chest. your feet were moving faster than your head, the pitter patter of your footsteps almost as fast as your heartbeat, and before you knew it you were in front of his door. you hesitated for a second breathing in deep once before knocking, the light was still on so you knew he was awake.

“yeah?” rafe did his best to hide the satisfaction he felt seeing you twitchy and shy in front of his door. you swallowed down again, looking up at him with as much confidence as you could. there was a few seconds of silence, he gave you the time you needed, looking down at you with bright inviting eyes.

“is your offer still on the table?” his face split into a grin, moving aside to let you in like you’d done before and with no hesitation you pushed past him. even the small graze of your shoulder against him set his skin ablaze. he was going to lose his mind.

“‘doesn’t really have an expiration date.” your mind was blanking at his every advance, you tried not to think about his words, you couldn’t afford to fall deeper for him.

“just don’t like tell anyone about this?” you murmured, watching him close the door behind you two and getting a bit nervous. if sarah found out you’d be in for hell. losing your virginity to your best friend’s brother wasn’t exactly a great conversation to have.

“i’m not topper don’t worry.” you believed him, rafe despite his other faults, was always respectful.

“can i kiss you?” you nodded fervently, rafe held back a laugh at your enthusiasm. he walked up to you slowly as if giving you the chance to run and slid his hands from his hips to the curve of your waist. you stood on your tiptoes, your arms going around his neck and rafe couldn’t believe this was real. maybe if he pretended it was a dream he wouldn’t be so nervous. he’d have to do just that. one of his hands cupped your face, thumb stroking along your cheekbone and your eyelashes fluttered closed at the touch. he pressed a tentative kiss to your lips.

his lips felt soft and you breathed out in relief after, as if some sort of spell was lifted. rafe kissed you again, this time letting himself breathe you in. you felt so small and delicate in his hold, he wanted to take his time with you. you had other ideas. kissing rafe cameron felt even better than you’d imagined, when he pulled back you surged forward this time, biting his lower lip making him groan into your mouth. another chill of desire wracked your body at the sound and you tested the waters by licking the seem of his lips. rafe pulled you even closer and bent down to kiss you deeper. his mouth opened and his tongue met yours. you tasted so good to him he couldn’t stop himself from sucking on your tongue slightly, making you whine in his hold. the sound flipped a switch in his mind, he wanted more of the sound, he needed to hear you say his name in that airy desperate sound again. a string of saliva connected your lips and snapped off in the middle, your breathing was heavy and his was too. you caught your breath all the while looking up at him, he held your gaze. the furrow of your brows grew deeper the longer you looked.

“we don’t have to do anything else.” him asking for consent again drew in another crushing wave of arousal, you were a lost cause. okay maybe your standards were in hell. even his cologne was better than any other guy, something woodsy and heavy, mature, not like the shitty ones you’d had to smell before.

“no-no i want to,” he’d have to ask you later why you looked so mad after kissing him, right now he had too much else to do. you could only watch as he lifted you by the grip on your waist, your legs going around his hips in fear of falling. he’d done it so casually you couldn’t process it in time. rafe set you down gently on his mattress, his weight pressed into you and your legs tightened around him. he kissed you again, already missing the taste of your lips, and leaned back. you realized what he was about to do as he sat back on his knees.

“no i-can you just come up here?” you felt far too shy for him to eat you out and although rafe respected your wishes he was a bit disappointed. he’d just have to make sure there was a next time. there were other ways to taste you anyways. he followed your lead, leaning back over you and kissing you again, tongue and teeth clashing together in need. one of his hands moved from your waist up and under the hem of your shirt, traveling up slowly until he reached the fat of your breast. the feeling of his fingers on your nipple jolted your body. usually you didn’t get anything out of a guy touching your boobs but him you were arching into his touch, huffing into his mouth. rafe loved how sensitive you were, reacting to every touch of his. he massaged the tit in his hand, reveling in how you squirmed underneath him. if you kept moving you’d feel how painfully hard he was in his shorts.

after giving up on kissing you he peeled off your crop top, trailing kisses down your neck. he bit at the skin and sucked, surely littering your neck with hickies. you smelled so sweet to him and he couldn’t get enough, biting hard in the juncture between your neck and shoulder. you squeaked at the feeling, shocked at how pleasure blurred the lines of the pain you should be feeling. being marked by rafe was transcendental.

“look at you, so fucking pretty.” you met his gaze, his eyes raking down your chest and back to your face. the compliment made your head even cloudier, you’d let him do anything he wanted already, and it didn’t even scare you. his mouth trailed lower, biting at the tops of your breasts before latching onto your nipple and sucking, biting and laving over the sensitive nub with his tongue. you writhed under him, desperate for some friction between your legs. you huffed out a breath in frustration. he took his time bruising your chest with his marks. everyone should know who you belonged to. he leaned back to admire his work, his eyes finally meeting yours and seeing your waterline filled with unshed tears. god he was being so cruel, you just wanted to come and here he was doing as he pleased.

“rafe can i have your fingers please?” he was about to take pity on you anyway but the desperate sound of you begging was too delicious to give up. he looped his fingers through yours, hands intertwined against the silk sheets next to your shoulder.

“fuuckkk when you ask like that how can i say no?” his eyes nearly rolled back in his head from your voice, he might just come from it alone. “how d’ya want them?” he knew, of course he knew, he just wanted to hear you say it. your lips were swollen from his kisses and you still managed to look so innocent under him, he wanted to mark every inch of your body so no one could touch you again.

“you know!” you huffed out, a pout on your lips that he kissed away, you still looked at him with frustration. your underwear was practically sticking to you now, you felt so warm and uncomfortable between your legs, desperate for friction. you’d never felt like this before, completely wrecked with need, unable to think about anything besides addressing your desire.

“spell it out for me, i can’t think clearly right now.” he kissed under your ear coaxing you into submission, a purr curled through you at the feeling. his lips were featherlight against you, soft and adoring and you couldn’t remember why you were holding back.

“‘wan you to fuck me with them.” it was a small mumble, slipping past your lips but rafe caught it nevertheless. his free hand hooked into your pants and pulled them down, you kicked them off and let him settle back between your legs. at least being out of your pants gave your legs some reprieve but the cool air only illuminated how drenched your underwear was. rafe’s large hand skimmed past your breasts to your stomach and rested against your waistband. he looked to you for admission and you nodded your head. instead of dipping underneath the band he trailed downwards, over the flimsy material. the ghost of his touch near your clit had you jerking under him, your hands flying to his shoulders. two large fingers pressed against the fabric, right above your opening, his fingers felt moist and he clicked his tongue at the feeling.

“baby you soaked through your panties, whose got you so worked up?” you whined, a pretty throaty sound that you’d been holding in and he vowed to pull more from you. his fingers were skimming along your opening, teasing the fabric and not quite touching you. your legs wanted to close on his hand but your hips moved closer, trying to make him touch you.

“you!” you screamed out, eyes squeezed shut as he removed his hand completely. you’d start leaking through them if he didn’t do something soon.

“that’s right me, not those fucking losers, just me.” his free hand, closed around your chin making you open your eyes and meet his. he looked crazed, pupils blown and overshadowing the blue with hooded eyes and a satisfied grin curling his lips. when you met his gaze he finally dipped his fingers beneath the band and pressed his thumb against your clit. he found it with such ease your eyes rolled back into your skull, gasping at the feeling of finally being touched. “i got you baby,” your legs spread wider for him, pulling him into you as his fingers slid through your drooling folds all the while his thumb ground against you. his fingers were so much larger than yours you could feel him everywhere. he prodded your hole with his index finger, grunting at how tight you were. streams of arousal kept pouring out of you, you needed him to do something. you squirmed under him again and rafe acquiesced, shoving his finger in. you were so tight and warm around him, slippery and soft walls hugged him as he stretched you out with one finger alone. “f-fucking tight,” he was gonna start soiling his shorts from the way you felt around his finger alone. he fucked you slow and deep, feeling along your insides for your sensitivity. he knew as soon as he found it because you screamed his name, hands clutching his arms tightly.

“feels weird,” he let you get used to the feeling, his thumb grinding against your clit. you were already feeling close and he’d barely started.

“poor pussy probably never felt this good huh?” you whimpered at his words, he was being so filthy and usually it turned you off. nothing about rafe could do that at this point. you shook your head, affirming his suspicions and his middle finger circled your opening. he was gentler this time, moving his fingers in inch by inch until you stopped clamping down. the pressure of him stretching you wasn’t unbearable but you didn’t know how you’d ever take more than his fingers at this rate. he accurately hammered against that spot, out for blood, while his thumb circled your clit. you were dripping onto his hand, coating him with your juices and the squelch of his fingers fucking into you filled the room. the sounds were so obscene you tried blocking them out with your pathetic little whines but rafe was determined to hear your soppy cunt crying for him. it wasn’t long before you felt the encroaching of your release and he knew it he could feel it in the way you clenched around him and whined when his fingers pulled out completely. one more carress of the sensitive gummy spot inside you had you seeing white. your vision blurred as you shook in your release, holding his wrist so he’d stop his motions, shivers wracked your body as you came the hardest you ever had. your walls fluttered around him, more of your release dripping down your cunt and soaking the sheets below. he was sick enough to leave them like that for the night, you smelled so sweet and he bet you tasted even better.

his fingers dipped out of your underwear and your eyes opened to watch him, probably a mistake on your part because just the vision of rafe cameron licking his fingers clean and groaning at the taste made you ready to go again. his eyes rolled back in his head at the taste, his eyes ground shut at the sugary flavor coating his tongue and teeth. he really hoped you’d let him have more later because now that he’d had a taste he wanted the full meal. you shivered at the way he reacted, your whole body on high alert from your orgasm, but even as sensitive as you were you couldn’t help but be greedy.

“rafe, can we go further?” his heart might just give out, you look nervous even now after he’s already addicted. he moves back slightly, pulling his shirt over his head and your eyes are drawn to his chest.

“thought you’d never ask.” you’re not even trying to hide how you ogle him, seeing him at the beach is one thing but in front of you, when you can touch him is another. rafe watches you reach a hand out, slightly out of range and moves closer to you, letting you touch him. your smalls hands traverse the expanse of his shoulders, his pecs, and trace the outline of his abs. when they reach the tuft of hair above his waistband, rafe has to stop you. the tiny fleeting touches make him twitch in his pants. he moves your hand to rest against his shoulder, pulling your underwear all the way off and looking down at how he completely drowns your body out.

“fuckkk can’t believe im the lucky one who gets to break this little pussy in,” he kisses along your neck, hands squeezing your waist and marveling at how diminutive you feel. he can’t wait to be inside you, he wonders if you’ll even be able to take him.

“s-so dirty” his words are heating up your entire body and you’d feel embarrassed if you weren’t arching into him. rafe moves to pull down his shorts, waiting a beat before he does.

“you sure you want this?” while taking your virginity was something he could only dream about before he needed to be sure.

“yes i want it to be you, i trust you.” you say it as normally as you can.

“we can stop whenever you want, like i said ‘offer’s not gonna expire.” you hope you can take it up even after this, maybe not even once or twice. if he could make you feel like this why would you need anyone else? then he pulls his shorts off and you start to regret your decision.

“oh-is th-that gonna fit?” his cock sprung out and slapped against his stomach, long and thick and way too big for you. you could barely take his fingers this would never fit. it looked so angry white precum dribbling down stark against the flushed pink curling along the veins and curving with him to the right. you wouldn’t survive this.

“you’ll do your best right?” you nod enthusiastically, you wanted to take as much as you could. “good girl.” oh, you’d have to explore that later. you nearly moaned at him calling you that. rafe caught it though, he knew your reactions well by now. he lined it up over your stomach, seeing how far it would go and your eyes nearly bulged out of your head. your belly button was completely covered, not that it mattered he was halfway up your torso. rafe’s grip on your waist tightened, he’d ruin you for anyone else, stretch you out and mold you just for him. no one would feel as good as him and he nearly drooled at the sight.

despite how feral he felt, he made sure you were still wet enough for him to slip in, you were. his tip pressed against you, he let you drool onto him, juices swirling with his and making a sick plap plap plap sound as he tapped against you. he’s far wider than his fingers and you tried to relax. you motioned for him to come closer, his lips out of reach and you kissed him sweetly. when he could feel you relax he pushed in, instantly being shoved out. so tight he couldn’t even get the tip in. “fuuckkkk gonna have to marry you.” you don’t even process his words and he doesn’t really know he’s saying them out loud either. he tries again, pulling you slightly onto his length and you gasp at the stretch. you’re gripping him like a vice and it’s nearly uncomfortable but being inside you breaks something inside of him and he’s drooling into your mouth. you don’t even care you want more. “doin well angel-hah-taking me so well.”

the pain is an afterthought now, you want him to stretch you and fill you until you can’t breathe. you don’t know if you’ve wanted anything more in your life. so you do the unthinkable, you try moving down his length. rafe can’t be held responsible for his actions after that.

he gives into your silent plea, skewering you on his cock and pushing past your gooey rings of resistance until he’s halfway in. you held your breath the entire time as he curved into you, tip smearing precum along your walls as he molded you to him, his veins catching on your entrance and making you jolt at the feeling. you push at his chest, the pain making you scream his name as he lets you adjust. there’s tears trailing down your cheek that he licks away. he kisses you until the ache between your legs becomes distant, it’s salty and sloppy but it distracts you enough. rafe makes the mistake of looking down, sees the way you’re gaping for him and how it looks like he’s splitting you in half and he bottoms out. the snap of his hips against yours makes you moan, he’s filled you up now and you can feel him in your throat. you swear you feel him get bigger when you whine his name pathetically, his dick twitching inside you.

it’s too much and you try running from it, shoving up the length of the bed but rafe just pulls you back down. “t-too big hng can’t-“

“come on i thought you were-fuck-a big girl,” he groans into your ear, you shove against him once more and he slips out a few inches, just enough for you to relax. you can still feel him nestled against your cervix, he’s leaking into you and your thighs are coated in both of your arousal. you tap his shoulder for him to move again, pulling out until his tip is the only thing inside and then spearing all the way back in. the feeling makes you cross-eyed, his throbbing tip bumps along your sensitive spot until it nestles against you, as far high up as it can and you think you might be coming on every thrust because you’re so obscenely wet more slick just pours out of you every time. rafe knows it’s because there’s no space for anything but his cock and he can’t help but grin, watching your pussy engulf his length despite how small you are under him. every thrust sends your whole body upwards but his grip on you keeps you close, he’s almost fucking you back onto him.

“feels good hah,” you finally murmur into his neck, wrapping your legs around his hips so he can drill into you better. his thrusts are deep and slow, letting you get used to the feeling but you don’t think you like it like this. if he’s going to ruin you he might as well do it properly. “h-harder.” rafe moans your name at your request, his voice sounds so wrecked you clench down at the sound alone.

“turned this pussy into a slut, ‘couldn’t even take-hah-two fingers now look at you.” really he’s proud of you, proud that he made you like this. although he wants to tease you he can’t hold back much longer either and it’s your first time so he’s gonna be nice to you. rafe pulls out and slams back into you setting a faster rougher pace, your skin is slapping against each other and you think he might bruise your hips. your head is shoved up the length of his bed until it threatens to bump against the headboard, he puts his hand between you and the wood, his other hand holding onto the frame for support. your legs are being bent and pressed to the sides and the new angle makes him hit that spot with blaring accuracy. a sick ring of white forms at the base of his dick and his balls are slippery from your arousal. you still have a vice grip around him, something he won’t get used to but is definitely get addicted to. the room smells filthy and the sounds of you chanting his name combined with the squelch of your cunt is pornographic.

“gonna be a good girl and come around my cock?” your walls flutter at his words, like his permission has you ready to come. you come undone with one more thrust, your cunt is milking him as if coaxing him to come. “fuck fuck fuckkkk.” he pulls out just in time to come onto your stomach, shooting thick gooey ropes onto your soft skin. the white contrasts the blue and purple that is starting to bloom around your neck and tits.

you blearily watch it happen, disappointed he didn’t come inside, but warm and fuzzy from your release. there’s one thought nagging you though as you rest comfortably on his sticky soaked sheets. “it wasn’t a one time offer right?”

“no fucking way, i’m never letting you go.” rafe looks at you like you’re crazy, he’s ready to propose. there’s no way in hell he’s making this a one night stand. after all he’s broken you in, now it’s the fun part.

taglist: @ggraycelynn

[reignpage]

How the JJK men react to you being in a coma

Satoru is devastated

It’s a deadly silence that envelopes you as he carries you to safety, face stone cold and grip tight. Even as you’re being patched up, laid down on a hospital bed, he doesn’t say a word. Just stares and watches every bruise fade, every wound heal, and for the heaviness in your limbs to wash away. But your eyes don’t open. No one says the obvious. 

Lying on the bed with you, he cradles your head to his chest and whispers, “This is the closest to losing you I ever want to get.”

You’re practically locked away after that. He takes over your teaching duties, and he works overtime to ensure the area is as safe as can be whilst you recover, intent on making sure that when you wake up, all you have to do is make it up to him with hugs and kisses. Every curse that runs into him faces a slow and brutal death as he takes out every ounce of his pain on them. None of it is enough. No number of curses slain will bring you to consciousness. For every hour you slumber, Satoru loses sleep.

"I always knew you like to nap but this is just excessive, sweets. Leave some beauty for the rest of us, yeah?"

No one has ever seen him more serious.

"Please?"

Suguru is motivated

You weren’t supposed to get hurt. You weren’t supposed to be there at all. Finding you, lying in a puddle of your own blood send shivers of wrath coursing through his veins. It was them. Those filthy monkeys. Seeing you barely able to open your eyes is a kind of pain only non-sorcerers could cause.

As you sleep life away, he busies himself with plans, double checking everything is airtight and all will proceed as expected. He can’t let you get hurt again. He won’t let them hurt you again. “Hi, pretty girl. I’ve been gone, haven’t I? I’m sorry.”

You're taken care of by Nana and Mimi and every single shaky smile they hide from him steels his resolve even further.

"Yes, I think that colour suits her well. She always did love when you painted her nails. Why don't you do mine too? We can all match."

Manoeuvring you onto his chest, he pretends you’re merely napping. He decides, there and then, he’ll do whatever it takes to ensure that the world you wake up to is one that’s safe for you, for your family, for your future.

Even if that world is devoid of him. 

Choso is panicked

He’s fussing, hands flying as he warns them to be careful of you. Every lack of sound of pain, of agony, and anguish from you makes him pull on his hair harder. You’ve always been the stronger one out of the two of you, so to see you limp, weak and silenced, sends his newfound heart racing. Even when it’s just the two of you, he runs around the house, fluffing up your pillow, getting you a glass of water, placing a warm towel on your forehead. 

“I don’t know what to do. You’re supposed to be the one who tells me what to do.”

Putting more hours sparring, he pushes his body to the limit, dedicated to getting stronger and better. He wants to protect you. To make sure you’re never in this position again. And though he’s always wanted to experience every part of being a human, grief is something he can do without. 

"I'll be fine, Yuji. Hit me harder. I can take it. No, I have to. Y/n needs me. I'm no good to her like this."

Toji is terrified

This can’t be happening again. He can’t lose someone else again. Someone so special to him, who taught him how to love again, to live and to know it’s okay to want more. "You promised you'd never put me in this position. You fucking promised."

You’re safer without him. You have people to take care of you. He'll only get in the way.

Leaving is the hardest thing he’s ever done. Every step feels like needles are pricking his feet, stabbing him in the heart somehow. He barely makes it a mile before his thoughts drift to you and stay there.

He thinks about you, weak and recovering. What if you wake up and no one’s there? Not a single family member or friend. He thinks about how you’ll croak his name, force your body up and search the house for him, limping. He imagines your legs will give up on you and you’ll fall, hurting yourself more.

The thought steals his breath and knocks him back. Rushing home, he drops his getaway bag and creeps into bed, holding you gently against him. 

“I’m here. I’m here, ma. I’m not going anywhere. And neither are you.”

Kento is ruined

His wife. His beautiful wife, losing the light in your eyes as he holds you. Gone is your smile, your warm touch and is instead replaced with shivering and shallow breaths. The noise that comes out of him is guttural and broken. "Oh, d-darling. Look at this mess. Let's get you cleaned up, alright?"

You’re alive but sleeping. And he doesn’t know when you’ll wake. It feels as if you’re floating in that space between the world of the living and the dead, and he wants to follow. 

He never leaves your side. He freshens the flower by your bedside table, keeps a tight schedule of visitors. None of them can touch you, they can’t speak too loudly and they can’t complain by your ear about their personal lives — he only wants you to be surrounded by positive energy. 

“You’ll wake up soon, won’t you, sweetheart? Yes. Yes, you will because you always take care of me. You’ll tell me off for not shaving, for not eating and for pushing everyone away, wouldn’t you?"

Maintaining your routine, he washes your face, puts on face masks, and reads aloud by your side, hoping that a particularly dramatic prose will provoke a reaction from you.

"I need my wife. I need you. What am I supposed to do without you? Won’t you open your eyes for me? For your Kento?”

Sukuna is confused

He’s in disbelief as he's ushered into the room where you rest. Everyone is in a state of disarray and for what, he has no idea. You’re merely sleeping. He pokes your cheek. “Wake up, woman. Tell these pathetic fools to stop their useless quivering.”

When you don’t, he frowns. Brows furrowing, he tilts his head and examines your body. You’re breathing and he can hear your heart beating, and yet you don’t respond to his commands.

How insolent.

Waving the peasants away, he shakes your shoulder. “Your king has given an order. Follow it immediately or face punishment”

Even once he has it explained to him, he can’t wrap his head around the concept of you sleeping indefinitely, though he’s once gone through it himself. You’re different. Better. You’re supposed to be filled with endless optimism and energy. You’re supposed to be bothering him about smiling, pulling him to the garden to look at a flower he’s seen before.

"Humans really are f-fragile creatures. Ridiculous."

Tutting, he rolls his eyes and grumbles about how you’re not even making space for him on the bed. There, lying with you, he can do nothing but slumber and wait for your soul to reignite, sparking his once more.

[gyudons]

despicable

updates as of 22 oct

Travis Dermott knew that he would draw attention with his actions in the Coyotes’ home opener against the Anaheim Ducks at Mullett Arena on Saturday. The Arizona defenseman just hoped that the spotlight might shine on the issue that he was addressing, not on him.

“You don’t really want to go against rules that are put in place by your employer, but there’s some people who took some positive things from it,” Dermott said. “That’s kind of what I’m looking to impact.

“You want to have everyone feel included and that’s something that I have felt passionate about for a long time in my career. It’s not like I just just jumped on this train. It’s something that I’ve felt has been lacking in the hockey community for a while. I feel like we need supporters of a movement like this; to have everyone feel included and really to beat home the idea that hockey is for everyone.”

“I won’t lie,” said Dermott, who is playing on a one-year, two-way contract. “From the outside, it’s easy to see that I’m putting my career on the line for something. I definitely went through some emotional ups and downs that night, not regretting anything by any means, but I’d love to have maybe done a couple of steps a little different by making sure that everyone was aware of what was going on before I did it.

“I don’t want to put my teammates or my coaches or my GMs or the equipment managers in any kind of bad light when it’s their job to kind of look out for something like this happening. It was definitely something that I did just by myself and was prepared to kind of deal with whatever repercussions the league decides to push towards that. I’m not going to back off and say that this battle is won, but we’re going to find better ways to do it.”

As Dermott noted, LGBTQ+ inclusion is an issue that he has supported for a long time. Without getting into specifics, Dermott said the issue is personal for him because it impacts people close to him.

“I’d be lying if I said I haven’t shed tears about this on multiple occasions,” he said. “So yeah, it’s something I’m definitely very passionate about.

“I’ve met a lot of people that from the outside, it looks like they have everything going right in their life and they have a smile on their face every time they talk to you. But sometimes when we get closer to people and get comfortable enough for them to open up to you, you can see that there’s some pretty dark stuff happening to some good people. It doesn’t take too many times encountering something like that for it to really change someone.

“I’ve been blessed to have some of those opportunities put in front of me to really change my view of what being a good person means; what being a good father and a good example and role model means going forward. You really see how people are hurting and it’s because of a system that maybe no one’s intentionally trying to be malicious about, but until you’ve really had that first-person experience seeing people hurting from it right in front of you, it’s tough to kind of take steps.”

It would be a surprise if the league handed down any sort of punishment. The optics alone would add to the public relations damage that the original ban created. Even so, Dermott reiterated his desire to bring the entire franchise into the fold before he takes similar actions in the future, but he also made it clear that he will not be silenced on the topic.

“It’s not like I’m shutting up and going away,” he said. “I know more questions are going to be coming. We’re just going to be as prepared as we can be to just spread love. That’s the thing. It’s gay pride that we’re talking about, but it could be men’s health. It could be any war. It’s just wanting world peace. Everyone’s got to love each other a little bit more.

“Like my parents said growing up, ‘How awesome would it be to be the guy that people look up to?’ That’s what really hit home when I was a kid, especially from my mom. You want to grow up and be that guy. You want to be the guy that’s having the impact on kids like NHL players had on you. If they had been racist or bigoted, that’s going to have an effect on you.

“With how many eyes are on us, especially with the young kids coming up in the new generation, you want to put as much positive love into their brain as you can. You want them to see that it’s not just being taught or coming from maybe their parents at home. They need to see it in the public eye for it to really make an effect.”

[kleefkruid]

Guys, I had one of the weirdest 15 minutes of my life yesterday, as if some higher power put me in a jar and shook me around for a very short time and then let me out again.

But before I can tell the story I need to quickly make sure everyone has the context: Kotelet, the stray I took in had 2 bigger kittens and was super pregnant. These are the cutlets 1.0 and 2.0, you’ve mostly seen the second gen as they were born with me. But the two initial kittens went to Danny. They were very wild and we tried to socialize them, but in the process unfortunately one of them got out and was lost forever. This was way back in the beginning of August. The other kitten became Dietzel and recently Danny adopted one of the 2.0 gen to keep him company since we sadly never found the other kitten again… Okay keeping that in mind I can tell my story.

Yesterday around 2 I left my house to go to Danny. While waiting for my tram I was texting someone who is coming to adopt the last kitten. This combined with the nose cold I’ve been having made me a bit inattentive, and I got on the wrong tram. Not too big of a problem, bc this tram also travels close by Danny, I just had to walk one kilometer. A 15 minute walk. What could happen in that time right, I’ve done this route so often.

I get of the tram and I cross a bigger intersection. Open sky above me, as is typical for an intersection. Light goes green, I’m on the crosswalk. Suddenly, and with a loud slap, a pigeon drops dead on the ground in front of me.

I look at the pigeon. I look at the clear sky. I look back at the pigeon. I look back up. I notice the cables of the tram that go over the crosswalk, and realize it must have flown into the cables, and was killed by electrocution. At least it died instantly. Not a bad way to go for a pigeon. One moment it was going “weeeh I’m a bird”, next thing the lights went out.

The crosswalk light had turned red. Normally this would be immediately be followed by irritated honking, but as I make eye contact with the driver perpendicular to me, he also points at the cables and we exchange some “crazy right??” looks while I hurry to the side of the road.

“What’s it called again when people tell fortune by looking at birds?” I think, (it’s Ornithomancy) “the ancients Greeks did it, I remember it from the Odyssey… sure hope it’s not a bad omen!” I imagine a Greek augur predicting a war or whatever when a bird drops straight from the sky and someone going “is that bad?” I chuckle to myself, just a tiny bit nervous, and I continue my walk. Not long to go now.

“Pigeon dropped dead in front of me” I triple text Danny “Crazy. Electrocuted by the tram infrastructure. Super dead in an instance.”

A neighborhood cat cheerfully walks by me. I automatically lean down to pet it, can’t cross a friendly cat without saying hi! It’s a teenage tuxedo.

WAIT.

The cat looks at me. It has a little white moustache. It starts sniffing my boots like crazy.

Could it be…

Squatting on the sidewalk, I go in my pictures folder and frantically search for pictures of the cutlets 1.0 The cat leans against me. I find a picture where the kitten has a distinctive black mark on the back of its otherwise white socks. I stare down.

On the back of its legs it has a distinctive black mark.

“You got to be kidding me” I say. “Sniff sniff” says the cat. He headbutts me again.

I am 350 meters from Danny’s door. Obviously I don’t have anything with me. A car drives close by. I gotta do something, so I pick him up. And he lets me. And I just start walking.

After a 100 meters, he wants to go down again, so holding him in a sitting position, I grasp his hind legs with one hand, like they hold wild birds when ringing them, and my other arm goes across him to squeeze him against my chest and I hold his front paws. He meows a little and bites me so very lightly. He just kinda presses his teeth against my skin to communicate he’s not impressed by my action, but that’s all. He’s still pretty tiny after all.

I ring the doorbell, and Danny buzzes me in. “Bring a carrier!” I yell trough the speaker. “What?? Why??” “Just come down!”

He opens te door and looks confused. “Is that Kotelet??” is his first question, as they look alike. “No, try again” I say. Now Danny’s eyes go wide. “No. It’s not possible…”

It’s been more than 3 months. Danny just starts crying out of shock. I start laughing. Both losing it in different ways about the absurdity of the situation.

We’re in Danny’s living room. The little guy is eating all the wet food he can and promptly passes out. We just stare at him. The other cats are peeking in from the bedroom. I look at its white paws, all grey from the street. He purrs. We sit in silence, kind of forgetting to blink.

“Did you see my text about the pigeon that dropped dead in front of me.”

[kairospy]

AU:

Neil doesn’t meet the foxes, he’s instead caught by the FBI

He helps them catch his father and bring down his empire.

One day he’s brought in to Andrew’s lecture as a guest speaker

The Q&A at the end:

Student: Have you ever killed someone?

Neil: There’s two FBI agents at the door who advised me against answering that specific question. There’s your answer.

Student: What’s the best way to get fake documents?

Neil: I’m legally required to say “don’t”.

Student: What’s the most illegal thing you’ve ever done?

Neil: See, that’s a trick question, because if I answer it becomes the most illegal thing I’ve admitted to.

Student: What’s the hardest lie youve ever had to tell?

Neil: “Sure, I’d love to do a Q&A with a bunch of people who are weirdly obsessed with my father and decided to study crimes because they don’t have the balls to commit them.”

Student: Are you afraid your father’s people will come after you?

Neil *at the end of his fucking rope*: No, I feel completely safe. That’s why I’ve got armed federal agents waiting outside.

Student: How’d you get caught?

Neil: First of all, rude. Second, the FBI made a very compelling argument

Student: …which one

Neil: “cooperate or find out exactly how many laws you’ve broken” - said by a guy holding a very thick file. Direct. Effective. Hard to argue while zip-tied to a chair.

Student: What’s something you miss about your old life?

Neil: being able to leave a room without seven cops and a judge asking where I’m going.

Student: If you could do it all over again, would you?

Neil: I’d rather set myself on fire. I know you don’t understand that reference, but trust me when I say it’s funny.

Student: how many identities have you had?

Neil: Simultaneously or in total?

Student: …total?

Neil: enough that I had to check my ID before answering roll call

Student: what’s the worst crime you’ve ever committed?

Neil: do you want me to answer this as Neil Josten or Nathaniel Wesninski? The distinction matters.

Student: Have you ever made someone disappear?

Neil *looking over his shoulder at Browning*: goodness gracious no

Student: How many languages do you speak?

Neil: enough to talk my way out of things… mostly into them, though

Student: Why did you agree to talk to us?

Neil: it was this or community service

He’s as unhelpful as possible.

His entire goal is to waste everyone’s time while making it just interesting enough that no one can call him out on it.

And Andrew? He’s watching. He’s enthralled. He’s interested, and isn’t that odd.

The professor looks like she regrets her entire career. Half the class is too stunned to speak. Browning is wondering if the punishment for beating up the most valuable witness the FBI has in custody would be worth it. (It would)

Anyway long story short. 5 minutes in Andrew’s in love