#bimbo!reader

[rafeslittlepup]

rafe loves mansplaining real estate to her bimbo girlfriend over lunch at the country club

“okay, so picture this,” rafe says, “we lock in two properties before the end of q3. oceanfront. one’s a teardown, but it’s got good bones.”

you look at him, blinking slowly. freshly glazed nails curl around your iced rosé like it’s a lifeline, the faintest smear of your charlotte tilbury lipstick on the glass.

“teardown sounds sad,” you pout, “like… demolition? that’s loud, rafe.”

rafe stares at you, “baby, that’s not the point, it’s not like we’re doing it.”

“oh! well, yeah,” you giggle looking at your nails. “obviously, ew.”

he sighs, biting into his sandwich. “you didn’t get a single word of what i just said, huh?” rafe laughs despite himself, wiping his fingers on the linen napkin. “you’re so dumb, princess.”

you pout a little, “that’s not true… i’m more into like, aesthetics. i want to have a fashion line one day, rafey.” you said as you play with your kale caesar salad.

“you thought a foreclosure was a type of facial.”

“doesn’t it sound like one?” you shrug, wide-eyed. “like… hydration-based foreclosure peel or something.”

“jesus christ.”

“anyway,” you say, ignoring him completly. “can we go look at the tennis skirts at the pro shop after this? i want one in white, with like, the built-in panties.”

“whatever you want,” he mutters, rubbing a hand down his face.

“and maybe you can buy me that little goyard bag too? i saw one in butter yellow and it made me think of cupcakes.”

“you are so unserious, princess,” he says, but he��s already pulling his black amex out.

you lean over the table and kiss his cheek, getting lipstick on him like always. “yeah, but you love it.”

he definitely does.

[appledressing]

Please this is too perfect I’m melting I melted I’m all melting over here

collagen crisis - A.H

skincare fixes a lot of things, but it won't stop you from spiraling over how much older aaron looks since he started dating you

pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader warnings: a little bit of angst with a happy ending, avoiding serious conversations, miscommunication, relationship anxiety, reader being dramatic, fluffy ending <3 wc: 2.4k request: here

You should have been happy. Just being here with him, sitting prettily on the couch, watching Aaron work from across the room.

Technically, this was spending time together. At least, in the most literal sense. But it didn’t feel like it. Not when he was hunched over his laptop at the coffee table, composing something far more critical than whatever little fantasy you were spinning — one where he’d finally look up, reach for you, and decide whatever he was doing could wait.

You let out a sigh, sinking even deeper into the cushions like they might swallow you whole and spare you from the absolute nightmare that was this week.

First, you overslept (horrifying), which meant skipping your morning makeup routine (soul-crushing). Then, the demon printer decided to sabotage you, jamming right when you needed to print Aaron’s meeting notes. And if all that wasn’t bad enough, some pointless, stupid, boring admin thing had you running around like a crazy person all week, like bureaucracy had personally conspired to keep you from your boyfriend.

After days of missing him, you were finally here, finally close… and he wasn’t even looking at you.

You propped your chin on your hand, eyes glued to him like he was the sun and you were some poor little flower desperate for light.

He was always fascinating — the most beautiful thing in any room, any world even. But clearly, he had other priorities.

“Aaron,” you purred, practically dripping his name in honey. “Are you mad at me?”

No response. No flick of an eye. You pouted, nose wrinkling in disbelief. That move had a 100% success rate, until now.

“Did you know stress ages you? You should really take a break before you get all wrinkly.”

A noncommittal hum. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed, undeterred. “Stress literally destroys collagen. And collagen is really important, because it keeps everything tight and smooth. And did you know that working too much is the number one cause of frown lines?” You squinted. “Like, look at you right now — totally frowning.”

Nothing.

You sighed dramatically, rising from the couch, bare feet padding across the floor as you came to stand over him, arms crossing beneath your chest.

“You know,” you mused, tapping a finger against your chin, “I should start taking my theories to someone who appreciates them. Like Derek. He listens. Actually engages. And —” A pause. “ — he always says I have the prettiest skin. “

Aaron’s fingers paused. “Don’t even think about it.”

You clambered onto the coffee table, settling in right across from him, close enough that he had to look at you.

“I mean, if you’re too busy, I should explore my options, right? Maybe find a guy who —”

“I’m not ignoring you for fun,” he interrupted, rubbing his jaw. “I’m busy because I have to be. You know that.”

Your playful smile wavered, wilting under a sudden frost. He wasn’t just distracted. He wasn’t just busy. His brow was tight with strain, his jaw set in a profound way that told you this wasn’t about focus but stress. Exhaustion. He was drowning and you were whining about being left on the shore.

I’m not ignoring you for fun.

Right. No, this wasn’t a game. It wasn’t a ploy. He wasn’t looking past you to be cruel, he was looking past you because there were things more important than your vanity, deeper than your hunger for his attention. His burdens were real, the life-or-death kind, and here you were, pouting over the trivial. Over collagen. Over the absurd notion that Derek Morgan could actually take him from you.

Ugh. Guilt. The worst emotion. It was sticky and persistent, like mascara smudges that refused to budge no matter how hard you scrubbed. You swallowed, hands skating over your thighs as if you could rub it out, erase it, pretend you weren’t feeling it at all.

“Right,” you mumbled, forcing a small smile, even though it felt a little wobbly. “Sorry, baby. I know.”

His lips parted, but you didn’t allow him to turn this into something serious.

You leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before resting your hand against his jaw. His skin was warm, a little rough from the day’s stubble.

“You’re still, like, so handsome,” you murmured, thumb brushing over his cheekbone. “And I love you, obviously.” A breath. A softer smile. “So it’s not like I’d leave you for a younger man or anything.”

You meant for it to sound teasing. Light. But even you could hear the truth beneath it like a half-hidden bruise, the unspoken  I know I’m difficult, I know I’m exhausting, but please still love me anyway.

Then you hopped off the coffee table, cheeks toasty, heart fluttering in a way that didn’t feel entirely good. You took a step back, suddenly unsure of what to do with yourself.

You don’t even remember leaving.

One moment, you were in Aaron’s living room, pressing a kiss to his cheek, and the next, you were unlocking your home door, feeling too much and not enough all at once, like you’d been yanked out of a dream before it could end adequately.

It was fine. You were fine. 

You just needed to do your skincare routine — because skincare always made things better. It was science. The universal laws of serums and self-care. You’d scrub away the bad feelings, tone down the overthinking (literally — with toner), and slather on a fresh start in the form of overpriced moisturizer.

Because if you just focused on the cleaners, on the circular motions, on fixing something, maybe you wouldn’t feel so much like you needed him to come along and fix you.

You were being dramatic.

But still, you stared at yourself in the mirror, fingertips smoothing combinations into your skin, your thoughts hyper-focused on him.

His face, his worry lines, the little creases at his temples that did not exist before you came waltzing into his life in a cloud of perfume and poor decision-making. And the gray hairs. He didn’t have those before either.

You were like stress in human form, a walking, talking wrinkle-generator. And wasn’t that a fun little realization — that your presence was something his body wore, that your love had a terrible side effect.

And okay, yes, you loved the way he looked. He was the hottest man you’d ever seen, full stop, end of discussion. He wore stress the other way men wore tailored suits. But that didn’t mean you wanted to be the reason for it. Weren’t you supposed to make his life better? Less stressful? More fun?

You sniffled, trying — really trying — to push the thought away, to shove it into some quiet little corner of your mind where it couldn’t hurt.

The knock at your door made you jump, a startled squeak slipping out. The serum bottle slipped from your fingers, clattering into the sink before rolling to a shaky stop.

Oh. Oh, no.

This was it. You knew this was going to happen eventually. Of course you were going to be a victim of some random, senseless crime, because you were too pretty to be left unattended. They always went for the pretty ones first. Statistically. Probably.

Grabbing the closest thing you could maybe pass as a weapon — your hairbrush, heavy-ish, but hardly lethal — you crept toward the door. 

You pressed up on your toes to check the peephole — Aaron had very sternly instructed you never to open the door without looking first — and oh. It was him. You let out a massive breath, forehead knocking lightly against the door as you deflated.

You unlocked it quickly, yanking it open.

“Oh my gosh, Aaron, do you want to give me a heart attack?” you gasped, shoving the hairbrush into his chest with all the righteous indignation of someone personally victimized by his existence. “I was about to murder you.”

He caught it without effort, blinking down at the would-be weapon. “With this?”

You wrinkled your nose. “Okay, yes, I panicked. But let’s not pretend I wouldn’t have landed at least one good hit.”

He smiled like he almost agreed, but then it faded, replaced by something quieter. He shoved his hands into his pockets.

“Can I come in, sweetheart?”

“Oh! Yes, duh, sorry.” You spun on your heel, nearly tripping over your fuzzy slippers as you ushered him inside. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

His frowned. “Did you not see my texts?”

“My phone is charging.”

“So you just… disappeared, ignored your phone, and then nearly assaulted me with a hairbrush?”

You shut the door behind him. “Aren’t you so glad you’re dating me?”

“Immensely.”

His tone was dry, but the way he reached for you was anything but. He hooked his fingers into the belt loops of your robe, reeling you in, and suddenly you were pressed against him, chest to chest. 

“I seriously am glad I’m dating you.”-

Your stomach squeezed so tight it was borderline uncomfortable.

So you did what any reasonable person would do. You avoided it entirely.

“Well, obviously, I am a delight.”

Aaron’s finger brushed against your cheek, tucking a stray strand behind your ear with an almost cautious tenderness, like you were made of glass and one wrong move would have you slipping through his fingers.

Because he knew you. Knew how easily you could float away, lost in your own world, distracted by the new beautiful, fleeting thing. And he knew, just as easily, how you ran when something felt too real.

So he was careful. Always careful.

“You are a delight,” he murmured, sure as ever. 

You blinked up at him, lips parting before you scoffed, shaking your head. “Ugh, boring. Teasing isn’t fun when you just agree with me.”

“I’m not teasing,” he said, lips twitching. Then, softer, sneaking the words past your defenses, “I need you to understand how much I love you. You are the single most important thing in my life.”

Flattening your hands over his chest, you let out a totally normal, not at all panicked giggle. “Gosh, you’re so sincere,” you blurted. “Do you… practice this?”

His brow arched. “Do you practice avoiding serious conversations?”

“Why do we have to have a serious conversation right now? Can’t we just, like, make out instead?”

His eyes track downward, to your lips. You see the moment he hesitates, a war playing out in the slight twitch of his fingers, the way his throat bobs when he swallows. For a moment, you think he might actually do it — lean in, forget whatever moral battle he’s fighting, and take you up on the offer. But then, his jaw tightens, and with a slow exhale, he shakes his head.

“Because I was an ass earlier,” he mutters, raking a hand through his hair like he’s punishing himself for even considering otherwise.

“I knew you were going to say that.”

“Well,” he murmured, “if you knew it, then maybe you should let me say it properly.”

You loop your arms around his neck, pulling him just a little closer, brushing your nose against his like it’s instinct.

“You weren’t being an ass, Aaron. You were just being a responsible, busy adult, unlike me who was apparently having a full-blow crisis over not being the center of your universe for two whole hours.”

Aaron signs, thumb stroking a slow line against your back.

“You might’ve been a little dramatic about it,” he concedes with a teasing smile, “but I also knew you had a rough week.” His lips press into a thin line, self-reproach creeping into his voice. “You never complain, so I didn’t expect you to say anything. But I should’ve seen it. I did see it — I just got caught up.” His voice lowers. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to beg me to look at you.”

“Still doesn’t excuse me being, like, a giant problem to your blood pressure. I mean, I basically force you to love me, and I’m sure that’s exhausting.” You flash him a bright, overcompensating grin, but his brow furrows, unimpressed.

Aaron’s hands slip from your waist to cup your face, tilting your chin up so you can’t look anywhere but him.

“Do you honestly think you’re making this difficult for me?” he asks, incredulous. “Loving you isn’t something I have to convince myself to do.”

His lips press together again. “I love you because I couldn’t stop if I tried. Because it’s the easiest, most natural thing I’ve ever done.” A small breath of laughter leaves him. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Loving you isn’t exhausting, honey — it’s the only thing that isn’t.”

Your eyes burn, emotion bubbling up faster than you can stop, and you let out a watery laugh. 

You wish you could take it as easily as he gives it. You wish you could believe it the way he does. But Aaron, steady and certain, loves you like it's gravity instead of a fragile thing that could slip through your fingers if you hold it wrong.

You love him. You love him with something wild, something you could never fully put into words, no matter how many times you said the three words to him.

And maybe that's okay. Maybe you don't need words, because he's already looking at you like he knows. He's felt your love in every touch, every breath, every time you make his life louder and messier.

Maybe that's why your fingers are trembling again.

Because this, this love, this life, this man, is the closest thing to real magic you've ever known.

“That might be the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me,” you whisper, tracing your nails over his neck.

Aaron tilts his head, brow furrowing slightly like he hates the thought that this is some grand declaration instead of something you should have always known.

"Then let me say it more often."

Your lips smush together, trying so hard not to smile, not to let him know how much that gets to you.

And, well. You can't have him knowing he's winning, so you tilt your head, pursing your lips, pretending to consider something much more important than the way your heart is currently spiraling out of control.

"Well, if you really love me that much..." You tap your chin, faux-thoughtful. "I feel like the next logical step would be a truly earth-shattering makeout session."

Aaron groans — part exasperation, part fondness — but then grabs you, kissing you hard enough that you laugh into his mouth.

💌 masterlist taglist has been disbanded! if you want to get updates about my writings follow and turn notifications on for my account strictly for reblogging my works! @mariasreblogs

[luvbabydoll]

a continuation of this

your lipgloss is smeared across your cheek from where he kissed you too hard, and your mascara’s already running a bit from how good he’s fucking you—but your voice is still soft and airy when you blink up at him and ask:

"wait—does it like... count as cardio even if I’m just layin’ here bein’ pretty?"

simon’s hips stutter against yours, his groan rough and low as it slips against your neck.

“christ, pet. you’re gonna kill me.”

he’s smirking, though. the kind of smirk you feel rather than see, all pressed against your skin like he’s trying to melt into you.

you giggle, all pleased with yourself, hands sliding lazily up his chest like you’re not even aware of the way you’re clenching around him.

“well, i do feel a bit sweaty…”

your fingers tug playfully at his dog tag.

“is that, like, a workout? or just ‘cause you’re so mean to me?”

“mean?” he huffs out a laugh, voice thick and slurred with accent and need. “you’re the one layin’ there like a fuckin’ angel, sayin’ the dumbest little things with my cock in you—’course i’m losin’ my head.”

you blink up at him, lips parting around a whine when he grinds into you a little deeper, slower.

“mmh, i was gonna wear my new pink panties today…”

your voice is dreamy, almost distracted, like it just floated up from wherever your brain’s gone.

simon’s mouth curls against your jaw.

“yeah? why didn’t you?”

“you never let me keep ‘em on anyway…”

you say it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, all wide-eyed and bashful-proud, and he groans again, this time downright pained.

“fuckin’ hell,” he mutters, “you’re lucky you’re cute.”

he dips his head and kisses you, deep and filthy, until you’re pawing at his shoulders and whining against his lips.

“if i say please real nice, will you finish inside?”

that’s what breaks him.

his rhythm falters, rough hands sliding under your thighs to push them higher, deeper, his growl all warm and wrecked against your ear.

“you want that, pet? want me to fill you up like a good girl, yeah?”

you nod so fast your head tips back against the pillows, glossy-eyed and gasping, fingers clawing at him like you need him deeper even when he’s already splitting you in half.

“mhm, yeah—makes my brain all floaty…” you sigh, content and fucked dumb.

and simon? he fuckin’ adores you like this. all sweet and soft and brainless. his pretty, spoiled thing.

[obessioncollector]

loser!perv!rodrick x bimbo!popular!f!reader

warnings: head, m!receiving, use of y/n, pure smut, no plot tbh, rodrick is a hoeless, bitchless loser. this is practically a make a wish for him. set in 2007. kind of bad. idk.

to rodrick, you were the epitome of perfection. he’d often stare at the back of your head in math class, imagining his fingers hooked around your hot pink tube top, rolling it down.. pulling on your long bleached blonde hair while you sucked his-

perverted thoughts like this often overcame rodrick’s mind whenever he thought of you. in fact, he’d jerked off to your myspace pics quite a bit. he felt like such a loser in comparison to you. you were this popular cheerleader, and he was just a lame ass drummer with shit grades.

which, is why it was so crazy to him that only a week later you were blowing him in his bands van.

you looked up at him with with innocent, yet somehow knowing eyes.. like it was clear you’d done this before and he hadn’t, and you found that somewhat funny.

you started out slow, it was obvious to you he’d never even touched a girl, let alone gotten head from one, so you didn’t want to rush anything. your fingers wrapped around the base of his cock, pumping him a few times. he was already hard as fuck. you couldn’t help but be slightly impressed by his length, you could tell he was big before this though, he just had that look.. skinny, pale, emo ish, you knew he had to have a surprise package under there somewhere.

slowly, you took just the tip, your plump, glossy lips humming around it. that earned you a slight whimper from rodrick. you pulled away, looking up at him with swollen lips and round eyes. “you’re sooo sensitive..” rodrick nodded, breath hitching. he found the slight valley girl accent you had extremely attractive. “yeah- yeah” his voice cracked the first time so he cleared his throat and tried again, hoping he sounded cool.

you laughed softly before adjusting your position, you could feel the bruises on your knees forming already. you stuck your long, pink tongue out and opened your mouth wide. you were done teasing. you took his full length, deepthroating him. his cock throbbed in your mouth, filling you up as you sucked.

“oh my god-“ rodrick moaned softly, eyes shut tightly, head tilted back. his prominent adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed his own spit. his hand held your head, chipped black nail polish covered fingernails digging into your usually perfect hair.

you bobbed your head up and down, holding back gags as he thrust his hips into your mouth, hitting the dangling thing in the back of your throat that you swore you learned the name of in science one year.. that might’ve been the year you failed…

“f-fuck- y/n..” rodrick whined pathetically as he face fucked you. “no way this is real..”

the van rocked back and forth as he took complete control of the situation. you loved every second of it. you knew he had it in him he just had to stop being such a loser freak and make a move. you moaned around him, loving the fact that you were his own personal pleasure device.

you watched him from below, tracking how his eyes fixed on your tits. the double D’s bouncing up and down in your pink and white polka dot bombshell bra.

you pulled away from him for a split second, gasping for air before immediately going back to work, rosy cheeks hollowing around his slick cock. it had only been a couple minutes and he’d already reached his climax. you orgasmed with him, the our look on his face making you come too. “y/n- fuck fuck fuck- y/n-“ he pleaded, it was too much for him.

you swallowed it all before pulling away and licking the excess off of him. “good boy.. mhmm..”

[simpforboys]

Introducing older!dilf!husband!Rafe x bimbo!mistress!reader

➳❥ In which 34-year-old CEO Rafe Cameron met bimbo!reader at some company party a year ago, instantly attracted to each other despite the white-gold wedding band on his finger

➳❥ Even though Rafe has a wife, a six-year-old son, and a four-year-old daughter back at home. But Rafe's marriage was dead. The only reason he and his wife got married was because they found out she was pregnant with their son.

➳❥ He couldn't really resist the younger, sweet, air-headed girl with pretty tits and thighs that was giggling at everything he was saying

➳❥ Which ultimately led to bimbo!reader taking him back to her shitty little apartment, spending the night tangled up in her pretty pink bedsheets

➳❥ Throughout their affair, Rafe started funding more and more of bimbo!mistress!reader's life. He moved her out of her shitty apartment and into a luxury place, because he couldn't let his sweet baby live somewhere dangerous

➳❥ And the longer they keep their secret, the more and more in love bimbo!mistress!reader becomes with Rafe, and the harder it gets for Rafe to resist the urge to leave his wife.

oneshots

blurbs

[gremlingottoosilly]

Bimbo!Reader who has been trying to hide the fact she can't do math or barely count to Konig

Konig is a nerd. Did well in his classes whenever he could just do shit on his own without having to sit still and give public speeches. He considers himself quite smart, too - he has to, in his position. As the colonel, as blurry as the lines in mercenary forces are, he has to be strategic not only in terms of battle but also in logistics and math, especially with counting the budget his forces had. He wouldn't say he likes to do math problems in his free time, but it's not that much of a problem - and it's easier than relying on secretaries and lower officers who love to chat too much. So, when you were excitedly telling him everything about that new, coolest sale on your favorite clothing brand, Konig asked just how much you were saving on the deal. Maybe 20 or even 30 percent - would be a nice deal, right? He gave you money and gifts, but it's nice to see you being conscious about prices and... Ah. You told him the price before, then the price after sale - and Konig could barely contain his groan. It was nothing, you'd barely save anything and would just fall for the marketing tactics. Don't even get him started at the girl math, he is too old for this shit. You tried to explain to him how buying 3 more things for the sake of free delivery is good, but paying for delivery is bad - and it was the first time he ever regretted getting himself a pretty, but really dumb girlfriend.

You're trying your best to appear smarter - honestly, Konig likes it, appreciating the way you're trying to be smart for him, but he would much rather you admit your utter inability to count than have to snatch the cards away from your hands and only give you a very certain amount of money so you won't get scammed. Maybe, if you're a good girl and pay him with kisses, he might give you a bigger allowance...but honestly, he stopped giving you his card not because he didn't like you spending so much money, but because you were too oblivious about the prices. He wants to buy you nice things, he doesn't want you to spend hundreds on useless things just because you didn't count the price right! Konig pops a boner so fucking fast when you call him smart, though...poor guy is going to go crazy because a pretty girl complimented him for his brains, and now he is going to fuck your brains out because why the hell not, he wants to hear you squeal around his cock.

[yawnderu]

Simon Riley is absolutely smitten by his bimbo girlfriend. Pretty little thing like you, who grew up extremely sheltered and has never seen the horrors he has. He makes it his duty to keep you that way, giving you the best life he can even if he's a damn bastard.

''They're making another Planet Earth.'' He comments casually, brown eyes fully focused on the way your lovely, manicured hands play with his calloused fingers, not a single hint of disgust in your face at touching the hands that have killed hundreds.

''Where are they getting the dirt for it?'' You ask with a raised eyebrow, making sure not to hurt him with your long acrylics. His hands always feel rough to the touch, and to this day you don't even know what he does for work. Maybe he's a cosplayer, that explains his clothes.

''...'' He blinks a few times, dumbfounded at the question. Despite the fact that you're so... dim-witted, it's hard not to admire you when you wear those pretty skin-tight clothes and heavy makeup, glossy lips always pulled into a pretty pout.

''The nature documentary, angel.'' He brings you closer to him, making you sit on his lap as his hands run up and down your back absent-mindedly.

''Oh. Oh! Okay.'' Simon makes no effort to hide the small smile on his lips, feeling you plant kisses all over his face, marking it with your pretty red lipstick. He doesn't care, he wears those kisses on his scarred skin like a damn badge of honor.

Bimbo!Reader Masterlist

[cameronsbabydoll]

I meant like if he’s teaching her something difficult and before she didn’t understand but now she understands it

you're staring at the page like it's written in a foreign language. again. your pink pen is halfway to your mouth, lip gloss smudging the plastic as you pout dramatically.

pope is across from you, patient as ever, tapping his pencil against the notebook. “okay. one more time. what do you do with the denominator?”

you squint at the problem, tilt your head… and then it clicks. like, actually clicks.

“oh my god—wait!” you sit up straight, practically bouncing in your chair. “wait, popey, i get it now!”

his eyebrows lift. “you do?”

“uh-huh!” you say proudly, jabbing your pen at the worksheet like it owes you money. “so this number, the little one under the line? he’s like… the base, right? the guy holding the whole thing up? and you, like, multiply him—but gently. like you said!”

he leans in to look, his arm brushing yours. he smells like clean laundry and something kind of nerdy-hot. and when his eyes flick over your answer, they widen.

“you um actually got it right.”

your lips part in a surprised gasp. “i did?!”

“yeah. that’s … correct.”

you squeal, clapping your hands together, glittery nails flashing. “oh my god, are you so proud of me? be honest. like, scale of one to ten. actually—scale of one to pope heart eyes.”

he laughs under his breath, clearly trying to stay composed. “definitely pope heart eyes. i’m impressed.”

you grin and lean toward him just a little, twirling a strand of your hair around your finger. “you’re kinda cute when you do your little smart-boy voice,” you say, voice all sweet and teasing. “makes math almost hot.”

pope blinks, clearly caught off guard. His cheeks flush just a little, and he shifts in his seat. “uh—we should probably finish the next problem.”

“mhm,” you hum, tapping your pen against your lips. “you gonna give me a gold star if i get it right? or do i get a kiss instead?”

he chokes on air.

you smile sweetly, batting your lashes. “just for motivation, popey…”

[tojisun]

oh but bimbo!reader mssging simon (a military man) how theres a boy in campus (a frat boy specifically) who wont take no for an answer as he keeps tryna pursue you, corralling his frat brothers and even your cheer team to make up situations where you two could have an “alone time.” naturally, simon flies back to put the fear of god into this boy because what is he if not just a boy against simon’s bulk?

and since he is a pissy boy, you receive these messages from him:

from: dickhead

> bitch. you couldve just said your taken

> fucking cunt

to: dickhead

i did but you are just stubborn :/ <

also? it’s you’re* <

and thank you, btw. simmy loves it when i’m a cunt. the fact that you can’t handle me being one just proves his point :p <

from: dickhead

> fuck you and you’re ugly ass boyfriend

to: dickhead

your* 😭 <

simon, who pulled you to his lap the moment the first messages came rolling in, laughs before kissing you on your cheek.

“my smart cookie,” simon murmurs, nuzzling his nose along your skin.

you giggle, throwing your phone behind you before tackling simon and giving him a thousand smooches. simon catches you with ease, hefting you on top of him to slot you two in the comfiest position.

(simon snags a picture of you and him snuggling after sex, careful that all that’s showing is your after-sex glow and nothing more – not a sliver of skin past your marked-up neck – before asking permission from you if it’s alright that he sends it to ‘dickhead’.

your nose scrunches in confusion even as you nod, passing your phone back to simon. simon kisses your lips lightly in thanks, and arranges the message.

to: dickhead

[image attached] <

she’s mine, son. <

your number is blocked soon after by little frat boy.)

-

(ext.)

[rafesplaymate]

First Encounter.

Bestfriendsboyfriend!Rafe x Bimbo!Reader

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chapter visuals here.

warnings: slight smut. infidelity (not on reader). choking. dumbification. immoral thought process. substance use (drinking while driving.) power dynamics. dom / sub dynamics. toxic behaviors. manipulation / gaslighting. slight coercion / dubcon?

a/n: i am so hyped to release this AU. been playing around with it for a while. i decided to use maddy’s name from the show so im sorry if you’re a maddy. Her face claim is NOT alexa demie, can be anyone you imagine. not verbatim to the storyline / scene —my version of it —btw they’re all out of high school. enjoy!

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Bang. Bang. Bang.

“M’fuckin busy! Fuck off!” Growls Rafe breathlessly, too entranced by his sweet doll who he’s pounding into the door. Pressing sloppy kisses to her cheek as he groaned into her skin; her bruised bottom lip hidden behind her front teeth in an attempt to keep her volume down as he presses her body to the bathroom door. But breathy moans and whines couldn’t help but slip past her swollen lips. The heat they built up in the restroom almost suffocating. Harsh breathes and moans of pure desire being passed to one another. He’ll be damned if he lets some stupid party-goer ruins this for him. Something he’s been dying to have.

“Rafe?!” His girlfriend knew that voice, wondering why she hasn’t seen him around the party. “Are you serious?! Open the fucking door, I have to pee! I’m not fucking around! Where have you been?!” she shouted, her voice full of vexation as she continues fumbling with the knob and banging on the wood from the other side. Sure, they’d been on a ‘break’ since their latest fight, but the was still her man and she wants to know what the hell he’s up to.

As for Rafe and y/n, the realization of who’s on the other side of the door —makes time stop. Their bubble of passion and intoxicating ambience getting popped. He looks at his doll’s eyes widen with immense fear, her lips parting to speak and the only thing coming out being a squeak when he shoves his large hand over her mouth. Her beautiful doe eyes looking into his as he presses her to the door and catches his breath. Mind calculating at the situation.

“Sh, relax —told you to trust me, didn’t I?”, he whispered gruffly to her; his eyes glaring with warning as he pressed her harder into the door. The banging from his girlfriend on the other side shaking her half-naked body as fear and anxiety drips from her eyes in the form of tears. “Don’t fucking cry. I swear to god —don’t. Just relax.” His voice softened slightly to accumulate her compliance once more.

He watched as her body relaxed slightly until the banging started up once again and his girlfriend started shouting for him to let her in once more. “Are you taking a shit? I can smell it, you’re fucking gross!” She mocked with a laugh, her hand jangling the knob once more. He watches as his doll’s hand comes down to press against it, keeping it in place as her eyes look at him for resolve, tears dripping down once more.

“I told you to stop crying, are you fuckin’ serious right now?” He reprimanded her, dragging his hand down her face to grip her throat while he repositions himself to hop her higher and adjust her body. “If you start trippin’ she’s gonna find out so, chill.” He mocked her, leaning his head in with his infamous smirk as he brushed his lips against hers. Not too deterred by his girlfriend on the other side. In fact the thrill sets him off and he begins grinding into her once more.

Her eyes flutter with the feeling as she relaxes her body once more, thighs widening around his waist as her manicured hand grips the back of his neck. “Yeah, yeah… there you go. Sh, just let me take care of it —of you, alright? No need to worry that empty little head. I got it.” He whispered against her mouth, his chest burning with satisfaction at her submissive whimpers as she whines under her breath.

“Bu-but…” she starts up, her sweet voice filled with guilt as her brows furrow once more in worry. Looking deep into his cobalt eyes as he domineers her with his presence. “She’s my best friend.” She whines sweetly, her voice shaky and demeanor racked with culpability. It makes Rafe want to ruin her that much more, determined to break down her faithfulness to the girl on the other side. It should only be to him, he’ll be damned if it doesn’t happen.

“What about it?” He mocks under his breath, grinding his hips into her once again, watching as her brows furrowed and lips formed an ‘O’ and she fell into his being easily, brain going fuzzier from his cock in her. “She’s my girlfriend, but you didn’t mind too much when you were taking your panties off in my car to show me this pretty pussy, did you? Or when you were kissing and rubbing up on me.” He ridicules her for her earlier actions, for the reason she’s even in this position to begin with. Gaslighting her into believing she was the one who started this, even though he’s the one who knotted the web he caught her in.

“Don’t worry about what she is. Just worry about being good for me, and I’ll take care of it. Kay? Told you that your loyalty lies with me now.” He whispered to her, pressing his lips against hers softly as his girlfriend’s resolve broke and she walked off with a scoff. Leaving the two alone once more —just as it should be, in his mind.

“See? Nothing to worry about. Now where were we.”

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If Rafe said he was surprised he ended up in this position he would be wrong. Because he’d been dying too, ready to claim the little doll he’s had his eye on since the relationship with his girl has fallen into the flames of irreparability. Their toxicity no longer fun and draining as he find himself wishing he’d never got to this point in the first place. Or got with her.

But oh…. her sweet, little best friend has been the salvation he’s been dreaming about. Her mindless way of being consuming his every thought as he calculates how to catch her in his grip. How to ensure she becomes his, and his alone. Friendships and relationships be damned.

And it seems his constant thoughts of her finally manifested in real time. Smirking to himself as he walks out the door of the liquor shop he stopped by to get drinks before heading to Topper’s. His doll faced fantasy sitting outside on the sidewalk in her tiny little dress and cute heels as she sniffles to herself. Glittery eyes decorated with equally glittery tears as she drinks her sorrows away. Tired of the constant berating from everyone around her. Exhausted even.

The perfect time for Rafe to be her knight in shining armor.

“Hey,” he spoke out after leaving the shop. Coming to tower behind her, as he stares down at her. Watching as her gorgeous face turns up to look at him, eyes focusing on him with a false innocence that has every guy on the island vying after her constantly. Tits spilling out of her small dress, cute lace thong peeking out from the short skirt and her position on the sidewalk. French tipped toes in strappy heels pointed together as her knees held against each other. “What’s going on with you? Aren’t you suppose to be at the party? Where’s Maddy?”

He watches as she shrugs, looking down and letting her tears fall onto her smooth legs, that gleam under the moonlight with body glitter and lotion —as pitiful sobs rack from her chest once more. She’s the epitome of pathetic and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t take advantage of it.

“We had a fight. She dumped me here. Said I was too dumb for her to be around. Too much.” She whispered pathetically, caving in on herself as her blinged, manicured nails fiddle with each other. Her cute nose twitching like a bunny as she sniffles —a baby bunny he’s determined to eat up and savor like the big bad wolf he is.

A scoff leaves Rafe’s mouth as he shakes his head. Lips quirking at the sides, as he speaks to her with insincere consolation in his voice. His pathetic girl, of course she’s too much. Head too empty, and in need of constant guidance. A little lamb wobbling on her weak legs as she attempts to walk and luckily she has him to guide her like a sheppard.

Everyone knew y/n was an airhead —a bimbo. As sad as it is to say, it’s completely accurate. She’d always been too sweet and too dense for her own good, with a banging body and pretty face. Maybe not the sharpest crayon in the box but she sure as hell was always the prettiest. Her point constantly dulled out by the way she was used —by everyone around her. Taking turns and fighting over who gets to color with her. Rafe is the one who’s determined to break her in half and keep her in his pocket. Completely unusable to anyone else except for him.

He remembers when he met her back in high school. Bouncing around Tannyhill during one of Rafe’s functions; in her skimpy outfit as her plump chest practically spilled out. Little, g-string nestled between her cheeks as the bottom of her tiny skirt lifted with her movements. Stumbling around in strappy heels, with manicured toes. Her body shimmering with glitter and flawless complexion shining under the strobing lights of the party. Pretty eyes decorated with sparkles and plump lips glossed as she giggled at the boys surrounding her.

She was the complete opposite of his girlfriend —her best friend. Both equally as beautiful, equally as stunning. But two completely different demeanors. Yin and Yang. Night and Day. Sweet and Salty. And that’s why they worked so well, that’s why they clicked. But that’s also why Rafe realized he had a sweet tooth way more than a savory one. Feeling like he chose the wrong meal when he preferred dessert as he observed her more and more over time —the more and more his relationship fell apart.

When he’d first met Maddy during the end of his junior year, he’d been completely entranced by her domineering and confident attitude. Equal to his and intoxicating. She was a challenge, something to conquer. A kitten with sharp claws he wanted to tame and let scratch him. She had been moving around enticingly in her skimpy cheer uniform during one of their pep rally’s, her sharp eyes gazing at him with desire as she seduced him. She was everything he wanted in a girl. At least that’s what he felt at the time.

Now 3 years into their relationship and he’s really understanding the saying that not all the glitters is gold. Thinking with his dick got his throat ripped out constantly by the lioness he succumbed too. His relationship was quickly and surely falling into the toilet and he was completely ready to flush it away. Tired of the constant fighting, the constant paranoia of setting her off and exhausted from the way she constantly set off the ticking-time-bomb he was.

Him and maddy were nearing the end —that was forsure. At first their toxic attitudes colliding was fun —thrilling even. Now though, it was anything but. She was sick and tired of his dodgy demeanor and asshole tendencies. His need to dominate her and the way he lashed out when he couldn’t. He was sick and tired of her constantly picking away at him, leaving him exasperated as she yapped away anytime he did something she felt was out of bounds. The constant battles for power, the constant attempts at enticing jealousy, the constant paranoia and possessiveness, the constant screaming matches —on both ends.

The sex was getting dull. In fact, it already was. So tired of her bullshit and constantly pressing her face into the sheets just to shut her the fuck up and get his nut in. His desire for her wearing off to the point that he felt like he couldn’t get it up anymore. In fact, she’d already ridiculed him for not being able to keep his dick hard. That’s when he knew, that any passion he may have once had for her had completely weaned away. And all they did was beat an already dead and rotting horse. It was time for something fresh.

The more his relationship declined, the more he noticed y/n. Fuck, she was so sweet. Like a delicate chocolate crafted with the intent to make everyone addicted, with just a taste of her presence. One he wanted no one else but him to savor. Sweet giggles and charming smiles, the way she hugs everyone with her chest pressed tightly to theirs. An air of glittery, demure charm that made everyone want to be around her. Gorgeous body, pretty face and an head so empty he swears if he knocked on it —it would sound hollow.

But the more he observed her, the more he noticed everything. Her constant need for validation, her lack of confidence. The way she so easily fell for anyone who gave her the slightest bit of soft affection. The way she clinged onto people like a stray needing shelter. Sad eyes hidden behind kind smiles, and charming giggles. The way she caved in on herself when she someone disregarded her. It was perfect, the perfect canvas for him to mold at his whim and every desire. The only thing that stopped him was her devotion to her best friend.

Maddy and y/n had been attached at the hip since they were pre-teens. Their friendship may have seemed tight from the outside perspective, but Rafe knew the truth. Their whole circle did.

Maddy saw y/n as her accessory, someone she could manipulate when convenient. Her doll to play with and use however she desires. Constantly speaking to her with a patronizing and condescending tone hidden behind faux care. Berating her with soft words of fake love. Dragging her around whenever she wanted, to wherever she wanted and disregarding her whenever just the same. Making her submit constantly. And y/n let herself, she felt like it was real-genuine love.

So it’s no surprise to Rafe that Maddy tossed her out after a fight. That’s just what she does, to everyone. No regard for anything that isn’t benefiting her. But he should thank her, because she created the perfect situation for him to get what he wants and he’ll be stupid not to take the opportunity. Maybe she was Maddy’s doll to play with, but Rafe would steal her and make her his and his alone. Like a limited edition that only he would have access too.

“Well, uh” he started, staring down at her with pure mischief in his gaze that she would never catch onto. His pathetic girl who needed someone to scoop her up and protect her from the cruel reality surrounding them. “I’m headed over there right now, I could give you a ride. If you’re up to it?” He said sincerely, watching the way her eyes lit up with cheer as the sadness washed away. That bright smile he adores, once again adorning her gorgeous face as she squeaks out a, “really? yes! thank you!”

He walks to stand in front of her and extends his hand out, letting her smaller one grasp his palm as he lifts her up from the sidewalk. Watching as her dress rises up more with her movements and exposes the tiny g-string she wore. His eyes immediately falling to the wrapped up present between her legs as she let out a ‘whoops!’ and adjusts her dress. Pulling it down like it did anything, her ass was still hanging out.

“C’mon, Top’s waiting on me.” He said with charm, gripping her now by her upper arm as he tugged her to the passenger side of his truck and opened it up for her. Letting her grip his hand to step onto the side bar as she lifted herself up —watching as her ass showed from under the dress until she tucked herself away into the passenger seat. “Thanks Rafe”, she told him sweetly. Giving him that pretty smile while he just nodded his head and returned it. Shutting the door and quickly jogging over to the driver’s side.

Once he gets in, he immediately starts the engine —putting his arm over the passenger seat and turning his head back to guide himself out of the parking space. It’s when he turned back forward after reversing and putting the car into gear that he noticed her staring at him. “Got something on my face, or what?” He jokingly griped, turning to look at her as she looked at him with her head tilted —observing him.

“Hmm, no. You’re just like, really pretty you know that?” She giggled, her faux lashes fluttering as Rafe’s lips quirked at the corners from her comment. One foot into the black hole that was Rafe Cameron, one step closer. “Yeah? Well I could say the same about you, doll.” He quipped back, watching as her smile widened and she leaned her body closer to his. Rafe’s fingertips burning with want as her sweet smelling perfume invaded the truck and his senses.

“You’re just saying that,” she said softly, turning her head to look out the window as she fiddled with her tinsled hair. “Nah, I mean it. You’re beautiful.” He said with confidence, watching her turn back to face him as she clung onto his words. Observing the way he reached his arm back to grab a beer out of the case he bought. Biting the cap off and spitting it out before placing it between her parted thighs, then reaching back to grab another for himself. “Um… I’m-I’m already a little buzzed.” She admitted, staring at the beer on her lap after he bit the cap off his; spitting it on the center console. Throwing it back and taking a big chug as he sped down the dark road to Topper’s.

“Y’know, it’s rude to decline a drink from someone who’s being so nice to you.” He drawled, left arm steering the wheel as his he brought the bottle to his lips and took another swig. ‘Future’ playing lowly in the background as he turned to look at her. Watching as she looked at him with guilty eyes and bit her pretty lips between her teeth. “Oh,” she stated softly, grabbing the beer and fiddling with it. “M’sorry Rafe, didn’t meant to be.” She said sweetly, bringing the bottle to her lips as she took a swig —clearly nervous. But the way she did exactly what he said was perfect.

As they both continued to take swigs of their drinks, tension and silence filled the car. Rafe staring at her every once in a while with a look that screamed want. Her looking at him with worry every few seconds when he began speeding up the car. The mileage amping up as they zoomed down the dark road. Her blinged acrylics gripping the seat to ground herself. It’s when Rafe went over a bump and the beer held in between her legs spilled over did she react. ‘Oh!’ she gasped at the cold liquid splashing on her legs.

She began giggling with embarrassment, unbuckling her seat belt and turning to wipe down any that fell on the seat as she looked at him with a coy smile. Rafe staring at her with an impish smirk as he watched her scamper with nerves. Finally settling back down and finishing off what was left of her drink as she held eye contact with him.

“Yeah… you’re real beautiful, doll.” He said with a bewitching tone. His eyes full of burning want that even her dumb, little brain could catch onto. She knew that look, that look in men’s eyes when they vied after her. And she reveled in it, reveled in Rafe’s attention —his validation.

As if entranced, with slow, sensual movements she lifted the skirt of her tight dress just a bit —hooking her thumbs against the edges of her g-string. She lifted her hips and with soft movements, began rolling the material down her thighs and legs seductively. Rafe’s gaze flickering between her little show and her gaze filled with unadulterated desire —when he didn’t need to look at the road. She bit her bottom lip between her teeth as she finally got them off her legs and threw them in the back. Lifting herself to push her upper body out of the open window and spreading her legs to show him the wetness between her legs.

Keeping eye contact as she spread herself open for him until she titled her head back and pushed out her plump chest sensually. Hair swaying cinematically in the wind as she posed for him. Rafe’s entire body burning ablaze and filling with triumph as she fell right into his lap. His eyes lowering to her cute pussy that he wants to ravage and own. Fuck yeah. He was gonna have her, take her. Make her his.

His sweet, little bimbo. His doll.

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When they finally pulled up to Topper’s she had been bent across the center console on her knees; pressing desperate kisses across his cheek and neck. Manicured hand rubbing over the bulge in his pants as she moaned against his skin. Rafe’s left hand white from gripping the steering wheel while his right arm was around her back —hand groping her ass as the tips of his fingers teased her wetness. “Fuck —baby” he started, bringing the truck to a halt outside of the function. Listening to her whine as she pressed sloppy kisses all over him and rubbed his hard-on. “We’re here, doll. Gotta stop.” He watched as she pulled back with a whine, her eyes full of dejection as she moved away from him.

“Did I… did I do something wrong?” She mewled, rejection filling her body. Rafe gripped her by the back of her head, leaning his body over the console and bringing her closer till heir lips met in a sloppy, harsh kiss of tongue and teeth clashing. When he pulled back, a string of saliva kept them connected —her eyes fluttering with lust as they stared into each other. “You didn’t shit wrong, baby.” He scolded while shaking her head in his grip. “Nah, in fact you did exactly what you’re suppose to.”

He watched as her eyes lit up, leaning herself into him as much as she could with the barrier. The alcohol buzzing through her veins alongside her burning desire for him. Her head fuzzy and filling up with thoughts of Rafe, Rafe, Rafe. Needing him to do whatever he pleases with her just as long as he keeps giving her attention and love. That’s all she wants, all she needs. Especially from him.

Rafe stopped her before she could connect their lips again, bringing a hand to grip her face and hold her in place as he spoke to her with firmness. “Hey, listen. I know it’s hard for that little brain to think but I need you to listen to me, okay?” He told her, needing her to understand it’s his word that takes priority. Her head nodding as much as it could with the grip on her face. Eyes digging into his own as she awaited his command.

“That’s a good girl, so good for me already.” He praised, watching as her expression changed into satisfaction. Her eyes full of adoration. Perfect, it was all coming together just as he wanted. “Here’s what’s gonna happen, now listen to me very carefully”, he urged. Slowing his words so her head full of air can catch onto them. “M’gonna go in first, okay? Then m’gonna to the upstairs restroom and I want you to meet me there. You know we can’t walk in together.”

The look in her eyes was quickly replaced penitence, the feeling of remorse sinking deep in her gut —filling her body and setting her nerves ablaze. Her need to be loyal quickly filling her senses with the fact that she was kissing on her friend’s man. Her best friend, at that. She tried to move her grip from his face, but Rafe quickly caught on. “Hey, no —relax. We’re not doing anything wrong, doll.” He cooed, consoling her guilt and trying to appease her now anxious demeanor.

“But-“ she tried to start up, quickly cut off by a gruff, “But nothing.” He said harshly, tightening his hold on her as her body tensed with fear at the thought of Maddy finding out. Rafe wouldn’t let that happen, not until he made her —his. She didn’t need to be loyal to anyone but him, least of all Maddy.

“Your loyalty lies with me now, okay? Don’t worry about Maddy, you know we haven’t been good for a long time.” He assured, but the guilt flickering on and off in her gaze was still there and he was determined to snuff it out completely. “She doesn’t care about you. But, I do. I just wanna take care of you, baby. Want you to take care of me too. M’gonna make sure everything is okay, gonna protect you. So stop forcing yourself to think so hard, you know that’s not your thing.” And that was enough for her, her head immediately going back to its dazed state as she relaxed in his grip. Her resolve deflating completely.

“O-Okay” she faltered, letting herself breakdown at his whim. Letting her head fill up once again with only him. “I trust you”, she vowed. Letting herself fall that much more into his black hole of a being. And it’s all Rafe needed to hear, all he needed to know that he gets his way —always. She was going to be his, bound to him completely. Maddy nor even herself would be able to stop it —no. This was the beginning of a relationship that would set ablaze everything they knew. He was more than prepared to either snuff it out or add gasoline to the fire if needed.

Just as long as she knew her place. Knew what she was and who she would dedicate herself too. He would break her down, take away everything she knew. He would ensure she had no one, nothing but him. Destroy what was already left of her mind and wavering self-esteem so she would be completely dependent on him and him alone. It wouldn’t be now, but it’s a start. One he’s determined to finish and come out in triumph.

“That’s my doll. Now be good for me and do as your told. I’ll see you inside.”

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a/n: phew! the first installment set. i didn’t want to copy the scenes verbatim, more so use them as inspo. i hope yall enjoy! pls let me know what you think! much love!

taglist: @littlelamy @xcinnamonmalfoyx @slut-4-gojo @hello-therree @atjlovverr @letmebeyoureuphoria @chroniccorpse @percysley @rafecameronssl4t @rafesangelita @lilbunnysfics @honeyncherry @jjsmermaid @cecehersworld @lethimultraviolenceme

[korn-dawg]

Bimbo reader x loser Abby or Ellie?

gyus why is this kinda .....

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Abby

-she'd defo be protective over you, especially because you're not all entirely there 24/7

-can get a little impatient, but for the most part takes the time to break stuff down so you understand it

-gets surprisingly flustered when you sit on her lap in those miniskirts you love oh so much

-loves to just carry you places; sometimes she won't even ask before picking you up and slinging you over her shoulder (making sure to cover your ass with her free hand ofc)

-gets all pouty when you take super long to get ready

-has a folder in her camera roll of just fit checks you send her

-learned latte art and does it in your morning coffee so you can post it on your insta story

-saves every link to online stores you send her in her notes app just in case she runs out of her own ideas for gifts

-gets all giddy when you squeeze on her muscles and tell her how strong she is

-has you sit on her back to do pushups in your living room, biting back a smile at your giggling

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Ellie

-literally will buy you whatever. look at it and it’s yours

-loves how your silk pjs feel, she’ll literally rub your back just to feel the material

-does your hair for you and helps you out if you’re taking too long to get ready

-gets on one knee in public to re-fasten or re-tie your shoes for you, patting her thigh so you can put your foot up

-loves watching you get your nails done, she’ll sit in on your appointments just to look over the process

-draws you everywhere and anywhere she can (including on her wall)

-pretends to hate it but lives for when you kiss her and get lipstick marks on her

-went on a picnic with you and spent the entire time staring at you like you personally planted every flower in the feild while you gossiped to her

-loves hearing your drama but will deny it sosososo hard

-has a pink and purple dino plushie she named after you that she sleeps with

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hey gysu so that fever actually kicked my ass and my writing was gibberish .... im back now tho !!!!!

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taglist !! : @hihihhihahahha @lolitalovess @peskylez @odettesoddities @saturnhas82moons @kylorey25 @lipglosskxsses @mars4hellokitty @hwasddeongbyeoli @kaykeryyy @kissyslut @cynthia-16 @meow4510

[mariasont]

Peak Ovulation - A.H

your period tracker warned you to avoid attractive men today. you failed spectacularly

pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader warnings: suggest content for sure, explicit focus on hormonal arousal, sexual tension, pre-relationship pining, mild workplace inappropriateness (internal thoughts only, no action), mention of nipples, hotch being a little shit wc: 1.5k a/n: all creds to the amazing @ssamorganhotchner for the request/idea <3

It is too hot in this office, you’ve decided. The air conditioning is on, the thermostat reads a reasonable 68 degrees, but you know your body isn’t lying to you – something is wrong. 

You shift uncomfortably in your chair, adjusting the hem of your (probably too short) silk slip skirt, the material clinging to every overheated inch of you. It doesn’t help. Nothing will. Because the problem really isn’t the temperature. No, the problem is standing across from you, stirring his coffee like it’s not the most erotic thing you’ve ever witnessed.

Hotch, all razor sharp lines and rolling forearm veins, stands at the kitchenette counter, completely unaware that you are seconds away from becoming a tragic, melted puddle of lust. His sleeves are pushed up, brows furrowed in concentration as he stirs, and you watch – helpless, transfixed – as his fingers snake around the spoon, the way tendons shift beneath his skin.

It’s a teaspoon. An inanimate object. He’s stirring coffee. That’s it. And yet, your body reacts spectacularly, like he’s just backed you into the nearest sturdy surface and whispered something so depraved, so explicitly not-safe-for-work, into your ear.

You knew this was coming. It’s right there in your tracking app – day 11, peak ovulation, high fertility, maximum risk of self-sabotage, avoid contact with attractive men. Avoid Aaron Hotchner, specifically. But here you are, fully within range of the object of your affection, the exact man you should be fleeing, logic tied to the train tracks while hormones drive the speeding locomotive straight to you.

It’s not your fault, not really. Blame science. Blame nature. Blame evolution.

You feel like you’re not breathing, not functioning, gripping your pen so tightly, it’s a miracle it hasn’t shattered into shrapnel. All because Hotch is walking by.

“Good morning.”

“Oh — hi! Yes! Good morning! Great morning. Beautiful morning. Gorgeous morning, actually. Just — wow. Look at us. In the morning.”

The second it leaves your mouth, you want to die.

Hotch, to his eternal credit, does not react immediately. He pauses mid-step, head tilting slightly, like he’s running a quick internal diagnostic to determine whether or not he should be concerned.

“...Right.” He finally says again, before shaking his head and walking into his office.

You cannot do this today. And according to your normal, non-biological-doomsday schedule, you’re supposed to review updated case files with Hotch today – which entails standing next to him, pointing things out, maybe even brushing hands if the universe is feeling particularly sadistic.

You hover over the keyboard, preparing to type out a very sudden, very dramatic resignation email, but before you can hit send – Reid passes your desk.

“Spencer!”

You latch onto him immediately, grabbing his wrist.

“Jesus, what?” Spencer stumbles mid-step, nearly dropping his phone.

Then, his eyes flicker over you, scanning everything — your flushed cheeks, the way you’re practically vibrating with tension, the slight glossy daze in your eyes that suggests either a medical emergency or a particularly brutal hangover.

“What’s wrong with you?”

Not in an unkind way. In a genuine, confused, and slightly alarmed way.

You shove the file at him so fast that a few loose papers nearly fall out, ignoring his question. “Can you go over this case file with Hotch for me?”

Spencer looks down at the file, flips through it once. “Why?”

“Because — uh — I have to, um… reorganize the supply closet.”

Spencer raises a brow. 

You switch strategies instantly. “Okay, okay — listen, I’ll let you pick the next five movie nights, and I won’t complain once. Even if you make me watch 2001: A Space Odyssey again.”

“Five movie nights?”

“Yes. Uninterrupted. No protests. No phone distractions.”

The second the word deal leaves Spencer’s mouth, you explode into motion, flinging yourself at him, arms around his neck.

“Have I ever told you that you are the single greatest human being to ever exist?”

Spencer makes a deep, pained noise, stumbling back, but he doesn’t fight it – merely sighs deeply, long-suffering but tolerant, before patting your back exactly once, resigned to his fate.

“You tell me weekly,” he mutters, but there’s a little laugh hidden in the words. He pries you off gently, shaking his head as he turns toward Hotch’s office. “Okay, okay. Before you suffocate me, I’m going.”

Spencer leaves, and for a second, you convince yourself you might actually make it though the day.

You are so wrong.

By lunch, you have died and resurrected at least sixteen times. Maybe more. It’s hard to say because you stopped functioning somewhere around incident three.

First the tie. One casual tug at the knot, loosening it just enough to reveal the cut of his throat. You nearly walked into a wall. Then, the glasses. The stupidest, most intellectual accessory known to man, perched low on his nose like some stern professor who graded mercilessly but might just let you stay after class for some extra credit. You had to physically sit down. And the final straw involved Hotch undoing a single button on his dress shirt. You had to assume you blacked out.

So now, here you are, in the breakroom, white-knuckling the counter, silently begging for the inferno raging in your body to calm the hell down. You’d spent your entire lunch break sprinting through department stores in search of a new blouse, because your previous one was rubbing against your already painfully sensitive nipples with every breath.

You yank at the neckline, cursing yourself six ways to Sunday for not trying the thing on before swiping your card. It doesn’t just fit snugly, it practically announces your ongoing crisis, the material stretching so perfectly over your nipples that you might as well be wearing a sign that flashes noticeably aroused.

The door opens, and you don’t even have to look. You already know who it is.

There’s a half-second delay before you risk looking up – just in time to catch the downward sweep that’s over as quickly as it came, his discipline snapping back into place like a rubber band.

Your stomach clenches, because oh, great, that is not helping. Not when you’ve been exceedingly well-behaved all morning, and definitely not when all you can think about is how you want him to rip your clothes off and put the unassuming breakroom table behind you to the kind of use that would get HR involved.

His jaw ticks, and then, in a flat, exhausted tone. “Do I even want to know what’s going on with you?”

No. No, he does not. Unless, of course, he’s invested in hearing about how you’ve had to swap out your underwear three separate times today just from existing in the same vicinity as him. In which, by all means, he should stay. But if he values his peace of mind (and you know him well enough to know he does) he should probably just walk away. Quickly. Before you start getting ideas.

“Nothing! I’m great! Never been better, actually.” You nod once, as if that seals it. “All good. Just, um, a little warm, that’s all.”

“You’re sweating,” he observes, unimpressed.

He steps closer and you’re certain the temperature in the room spikes by at least ten degrees. 

Then, as if he wasn’t already being reckless with your well-being, he lifts a hand, pressing the back of his fingers to your collarbone. His brow furrows. “You do feel warm. Are you coming down with something?”

“Yeah.” Technically, it’s not a lie. Something is happening to you, it’s just not the flu. “Aren’t you – aren’t you supposed to feel my forehead?”

“Yeah, but then I’d have to listen to you complain about how I ruined your makeup.”

Of course he would know you’d spent an ungodly amount of time on your makeup this morning.

If you had any sort of claim on this man, you would be on your knees so fast, your coworkers would hear the impact from across the office.

Hotch studies you for a second longer, then his hand moves, his fingers brushing up the column of your throat. He’s not even thinking about it. It’s gentle, like he’s feeling for something.

“You sure that’s all this is?” he murmurs, thumb sweeping into the tense muscle there. “You can tell me if something’s wrong.”

“Y-yeah. I’m fine. Totally fine.” You can tell he doesn't believe you from the way his brows pinch, but he doesn’t press. “Would it be okay if I went home early? I mean, unless you need me for something.”

“I mean, I always need you,” he says, devastating in its casualness. You make a noise in response, but just as casually, he sobers, hand falling away as he takes a step back. “Go home. Hydrate, eat something with actual nutrients, and try to rest. If you still feel bad tomorrow, I don’t want to see you in the office.”

You nod and blurt out, “Yep. Totally. I’ll, um – drink a lot. Not – not alcohol, though. Water. Obviously.”

Hotch pauses, his mouth pressing into the kind of line that means he’s trying very hard not to laugh. He gives you a slow, knowing nod before heading for the door.

You somehow manage to pack up your things, make it to the parking lot, and drop into the driver’s seat without further public humiliation. But just as you’re fumbling for your keys, your phone buzzes.

Mr. Bossman ❤️‍🔥: If you’re still feeling warm, a cold shower might help.

💌 masterlist taglist has been disbanned! if you want to get updates about my writings follow and turn notifications on for my account strictly for reblogging my works! @mariasreblogs

[luvbabydoll]

stuff ditzy!reader says to simon while they’re having sex

you’re all breathy and whiny under him, blinking up at him with lipgloss kissed half-off, and go:

"wait— does it like… count as cardio even if i’m like... just laying here bein' pretty?"

and simon groans against your neck, "christ pet, you're gonna kill me."

but he's smirking. because he loves that you’re soft. that you're sweet. that you trust him to be the big scary soldier man while you get to be pretty, cared for, and spoiled.

[stvolanis]

oh nothinggg, just thinking about Spooky x Bimbo! Reader

god, Spooky can’t stand you. always wearing those shorts—the ones that your ass cheeks hang out in. running around with your flimsy tube tops, nipples peeking through. Somehow being mixed into his brothers friend group, but not being involved in their messes. You were kinda just the friend they kept around cause your daddy sells weed to the people in Brentwood, so they got major discounts! but of course they loved you.

god, the amount of times he’s gotten a flash of the thin little hot pink thong straps you wear—or when you bend over to pick up something right in front of him; he thinks you’re doing it on purpose at this point! So he’s puzzled when you stand back up and whip around with an oblivious smile and innocent look in your eyes. He always has to do the thinking for you cause your silly brain can’t really comprehend what’s going on with the freakin roller world money your friends keep blabbering about that spooky wasn’t supposed to know about! Too bad, you already told him when you were mindlessly yapping about your day!

he would totally say something like, “didn’t know I was gettin a free show, baby.” After he walked in on your trying to shimmy off your skin tight, mid thigh dress. You blushed and weakly tried to shove him out of the room, only in your panties and matching bra. But it was like pushing a brick wall, and the way your clothed breasts pressed against him had him going crazy! So he felt like his body acted on its own when he grabbed the flesh of your ass with one hand, and your throat with the other.

He inhaled your scent, muttering a string of profanities in his mother tongue as he kissed the side of your jaw. “Been tempting me too much lately, cariño. M’only a man at the end of the day.” He breathed against you, watching the way your shorter body trembled under his touch. “I have needs. N’ it’s your job to take care of them like I always take care of you, ma.”

so of course as soon as he said that, his hand harshly pulled your bra down, exposing your breasts to him. He pinched one of your nipples, pulling it a little before releasing. Soon, your knees collided with the hard wood beneath you’d, and his cock was slapping against your cheek, leaving a trail of his sticky pre-cum. “S’right, niña. Put that pretty mouth to better use.” He smirked—that fucking smirk. The one that made you week in the knees.

You knew you were done for.

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[aemondsbabe]

Stick it Out to the End

summary: michael is desperate to get into oxford's prestigious bullingdon club; unfortunately for him, they command him to do the impossible to gain admittance

pairing: michael gavey x bimbo!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, bimbo reader, mentions of hazing but nothing horrible/extreme, virgin!michael, breast/nipple play, praise kink, piv sex, protected sex (wrap it b4 u tap it), oral sex (f receiving), consensual filming, dirty talk, cursing, what i hope is saltburn-esque humor, mild size kink, mild angst but happy ending, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 12.7k

a/n: images in the header are for aesthetic purposes only & are not used to describe the reader! she's back and she's long as hell but what else is new!!! this is my first time writing bimbo!reader and while she wasn't super bimbo-y, it was fun getting my feet wet! hope y'all enjoy!

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

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Michael

Michael couldn’t help but feel his heart speed up in his chest as he wound through the quiet corridors clutching tightly to the cryptic note he’d found stuffed in his pigeonhole that morning – just a page torn out of a standard notebook covered hastily written red ink; wholly un-intimidating as far as cryptic notes were concerned. Really, he was surprised to see they didn’t put more effort in; with as secretive and imperious as this little club was, he had been expecting some sort of extravagant stationary, perhaps even some gold embossing. 

Coming to a stop in front of an unassuming janitor’s closet door, he narrows his eyes behind the gold frames of his glasses, staring at the door with a nearly accusatorial expression. Michael swivels his head once more, his brows furrowed as he checks and re-checks every door in the vicinity before turning back to the one he stands before. Scoffing, he unfolds the note with a little irritated sigh and quickly scans the page again, mouthing the words to himself for the millionth time that day. 

The riddle had been easy enough to figure out, some trivial little lines about dead men walking, the mob, finding God, and looking to one’s heart pointed right toward some hush hush basement beneath the Merton College Chapel. That, and it didn’t take a genius to see that each line consisted of a specific number of words, pointing him right to the very door he stood in front of now – 129. 

Fucking amateurs, he’d thought after cracking the code in under half an hour. But that was earlier. And now, as he stares at the stupid dull grey janitor’s closet door in front of him, Michael can’t stop the little tendrils of doubt from creeping into his periphery. He’s sure this is the right door and positive this is the right place and yet… janitor’s closet. He checks his watch, 11:50 PM on the dot, and glances up and down the dark, shadowy corridors once more, half expecting one of the twatty rich assholes to jump out and start snickering at him, making fun of him for thinking that a no one like him would’ve ever received an invite to a club like this. 

Shaking his head, he reaches for the doorknob anyway, he’s come this far so he may as well. He freezes a little when it actually turns and his blue eyes go wide when he pushes the door open, shivering a little as he’s met with a wall of cool, dank air – eau de basement, just as he’d expected. A little actually impressed sigh passes his lips when he pokes his head in, an apprehensive smile blooming on his lips as he takes in the eerie red lighting spilling up the stairwell from the God-knows-what downstairs. 

He winces as the door squeaks when he tugs it open but he doesn’t stop, emboldened now as he knows he had been right once again. He takes the stairs quickly, probably too quickly given that he hasn’t a fucking clue what or who could be down here, but before he can dwell on the idea too much, he’s faced with another corridor. This one, unlike the ones upstairs, is narrow and brick-lined and leads in only one direction, straight to another closed door at the other end. 

Michael squints against the bright red light coming from a spotlight that had been haphazardly set up on the stone floor and walks down the hallway, his steps speeding up as he hears the janitor’s door above him open and close once more. His breath hitches a little as he opens the second door and quickly steps inside, like ripping off a band-aid. 

He freezes once more when a strong hand latches onto his shoulder and quickly jerks him further into the room, making him yelp as he stumbles, trying to keep pace with whoever the hell is leading him. 

“What the –”

Before he has time to so much as blink, his back thuds against a brick wall and finally he looks up, the vicious scowl he’d prepared morphing into a look of disturbed confusion as he eyes a row of other students, about fifteen and all men from the looks of it, dawned with black –

Oh, Christ, are those ski masks? He thinks as he eyes them up and down, How fucking banal… at least it’s not hooded cloaks. He nearly rolls his eyes as he scans the rest of the room, taking in the dim lighting interspersed with blues and greens from more of those stupid party boy spotlights. Glancing to the side, he sees another boy in his year, some guy he only knew from a few classes and passing glances in the hallways, but even still he’s comforted to not be alone down here, no matter how cliché this whole affair seemed. 

His blue eyes snap forward as the door, the only door, to the room is opened once more and some other poor sap is hastily dragged across the room, only to be smacked on the wall to his left. Again, it’s just some other boy Michael knows from classes, though he doesn’t know why he expects any different – it’s not as if he knows many people outside of the forced proximity of a lecture hall. Which was really his only reason for putting up with this bother, for seeking it out in the first place; a quick flash of him placing a tightly folded up sticky note with his name and pigeonhole number in an old, beaten up copy of King Lear in the library played in his mind – the price he seemed to pay for loneliness. 

Distantly, the bells of the chapel began to chime, signaling the hour. Once, twice, and eventually twelve times – midnight. Time to start the show, Michael surmises. 

“Welcome, initiates,” one of the hooded men says in a tone that makes Michael glare judgmentally, his voice pitched down like some idiotic knock-off Darth Vader. He steps forward from the row they stand in and holds his arms out open at his sides, “Consider this your first foray into the Bullingdon Club.”

Again, he has to bite the inside of his cheek to hold in a scoff. This was all just so… juvenile? He was beginning to sincerely doubt that this was the über clandestine club that granted its members all sorts of connections to various businesses, societies, and insider information that even the richest of the rich couldn’t buy. 

Unfortunately, his face seemed to betray more of his emotions than he intended and the masked boy steps forward once more, his dark eyes zeroing in on Michael. 

“You,” he says gruffly, pointing a finger in his direction, “Something you wanna say, initiate?”

Out of habit, he pushed his glasses up on his nose before he spoke, perhaps foolishly bold given the situation. 

“Doesn’t this all seem a bit much for three people?” He scoffs, shaking his head slightly, “I mean, masks, really?”

The hooded boy stops for a second and studies Michael closely, one hand on his hip, “What’s wrong with the masks?”

“Well, what’s the point? There’s, what, fifteen or sixteen of you? And three of us?” He asks, glancing around the room, which he now realized very clearly used to be some run-of-the-mill storage room, probably forgotten about by now.

The boy laughs sarcastically and shrugs his shoulders a bit, his voice back to its natural pitch, “It wouldn’t really be a secret thing if we just invited half the student body, mate.”

Michael supposes his reasoning is sound and says as much with a little hum and nod of his head, eyebrows raising dismissively. 

“Anything else?” The masked boy asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

“The masks don’t really disguise you lot that well,” he observes, pointing at one of the other boys standing in the row, “That’s Harry from Multivariable Calculus.”

“Shit…” Harry mutters under his breath, the sound carrying through the concrete room. A few of the other boys in the row lean over and place comforting hands on his shoulders and murmur words of encouragement, much to Michael’s dismay.

“Why’re you here, initiate?” The lead boy asks, turning back to Michael.

“Dunno,” he shrugs again, pushing his glasses up his nose, “Friends, I guess.”

A couple of the boys in the row make little noises, mutters of empathy that make the blond’s eyebrows furrow together in confusion as he glances up and down the line. 

“And this was your first thought? A secret society?” Harry from Multivariable Calculus asks with a little laugh, “Not like… chess or something?” 

“Don’t really like chess…” Michael says with a little shrug. Apparently a good enough answer for Harry, who makes a little noise of understanding and nods his head. 

After another moment, the lead boy clears his throat, which shuts up the rest. “Anyway,” he says, his voice falsely low once more. “Each of you will be given a task…,” his dark eyes glance between Michael and the other two boys as he paces in front of them, “Perfectly customized to challenge you, to push you to your absolute limits.” 

The masked boy pauses his little speech and gestures back to three of the other boys standing in the row behind him who then step forward and walk over to the dank brick wall that Michael and the other two boys stand against. He studies the boy that walks towards him carefully, his eyes narrowing in suspicion when he notices how much shorter he appears to be.

Finally, the boy comes to stand before him and presents a plain white envelope, though Michael’s lips spread into a hateful smirk when he sees an all too familiar pair of old, beat up trainers on the boy’s feet. 

“Oliver?!” He hisses meanly, shock lacing his voice as he jerks back the hand he had reached out for the envelope, wincing as his elbow collides with the cool wall behind him. He glances around the room, noting the few pairs of eyes that were on him, before fixing his gaze on the boy before him once more with a harsh glare, “You’re in Bullingdon?”

The boy in front of him hesitates for a second, cutting a sideways glance toward a taller boy that was busy presenting an envelope to the boy to Michael’s left, before he sighs and looks back at him, blue eyes peeking out of the holes in his ski mask. “Yeah,” he huffs, shrugging his shoulders defensively, “How’d you know it was me, then?”

“You look like a goddamn twelve year old!” Michael jeers, his voice low and vicious as his hands curl into fists at his sides, “How’d you manage to get into this club anyway?” He questions, seething, “They only let you in if you have the money or the marks and I know for a fucking fact you don’t have either.”

Oliver sighs again and rolls his eyes, which makes him see red and grit his teeth, although he doesn’t miss how the shorter boy’s eyes cut to the side again quickly. He opens his mouth, but before he can get a word in edgewise, the blond cuts him off with a little mocking laugh.

“Don’t tell me that’s fucking Catton,” Michael groans lowly with a shake of his head, breathing heavily as he feels the same sense of anger and betrayal he’d felt all those months ago well up in him once more, transporting him right back to the stupid damn pub, “You’ve got to be bloody kidding me, is this shite little club only full of cunts?”

“Look, I’m –” 

Oliver starts to speak again, only to be cut off when the head boy traipses over to where they are, coming to stand ominously behind him with his arms clasped behind his back. His dark eyes dart between the two boys before he speaks.

“Problem over here, lads?”

“No,” Oliver answers quickly, staring warily up at Michael as he practically shoves the envelope into his arms, “Just complete the task, initiate. You have thirty-six hours.” 

Before Michael can blink, Oliver turns his back and stalks back over to the other boys, taking his place in the row once more. The head boy looks Michael up and down appraisingly before nodding to the letter in his hands with a sly smirk.

“I can’t wait to see how you fare with that one, Gavey,” he says, his voice low and threatening, as if he’s in on the most delicious joke, “Remember, thirty-six hours, initiate.” He chuckles softly and departs, returning to stand in the center of the room. 

Everyone stands still for a moment, Michael and the other two boys to his left and right holding their respective envelopes nervously, unsure if they were supposed to open them now or not. Thankfully, the head boy clears his throat, commanding all eyes to him once again.

“Initiates,” he says slowly, his voice no doubt already hoarse from this little farce, “Failure to complete your tasks will result in a permanent ban from Bullingdon; no second chances. We expect results as well as proof of those results,” his dark eyes scan over the three boys once more, one corner of his mouth turned up into a mean smirk, “We’ll be seeing you back in this location Sunday at noon. Your thirty-six hours begin now… have fun.” He finishes with a taunting laugh before turning and exiting from the room, the old door creaking as he pulls it open before disappearing into the faint red glow of the hallway, followed by the rest of the fifteen boys in an orderly line.

As soon as the old door closes, the sound of paper tearing echoes around the dimly lit basement as Michael and the other two boys hastily tear open their envelopes. Pulling out a little slip of paper, his eyes go wide as a wave of dread washes over him. His eyes scan over the paper again and again as he nervously shoves his glasses back up his nose once more, silently willing the chicken-scratch words on the paper to somehow change, to give him some other command. 

His heart is pumping so loudly in his ears that he misses it when one of the other boys tries getting his attention, his head snapping up suddenly as a hand waves in front of it.

“Oi!”

“W-What?” 

“What did they give you?” The boy asks, nodding at the scrap of paper in Michael’s hand.

He clears his throat and tries his best to come off as casual, though he hardly cares with the way thoughts begin racing through his mind. “Oh, um,” he starts, glancing down to read over the paper once more, “I just uh, have to sleep with someone is all.”

The other two boys gape at him for a moment before groaning frustratedly. The one that had first spoken to him holds his paper out and smacks it disdainfully with the back of his hand.

“What the hell?” He asks gruffly, glancing between his paper and Michael, “Why’s yours so bloody easy?”

“For real,” sighs the second boy, rubbing the back of his head, “Ours are damn near impossible. They must already be decided on you to go so soft. How am I meant to steal the fucking Selden Map from Bodleian?” He laments, brows furrowed as he stares down at the paper in his hands.

“Yeah, and I have to transfer ten thousand pounds out of the chancellor’s bank account and into mine!” The first boy sighs, shaking his head, “At least your mum’s head of conservatorship here, you can at least get within a stone’s throw of the map. I have to commit fucking wire fraud!” 

The two boys grumble for another moment as Michael silently descends into a tailspin, his blue eyes unfocused as he stares at one of the dingy brick walls of the basement, trying desperately to formulate a plan, any plan. He merely glances up as the other to head for the door, spitballing ideas for each of their tasks.

“Isn’t your dad the president of Julius Baer? Can’t you just get him to pull strings?”

“Oh, yeah, fantastic idea! I’ll just ring him and ask the old man to commit a felony! What could possibly go wrong there?”

Michael tries to tune out their bickering as the three of them ascend the staircase and trail out into the hallway of Merton College Chapel once more; the two other boys don’t pay him any mind as they continue whispering amongst themselves, their voices trailing quietly down the hallway as he leans with his back against the cool metal of the janitor’s closet door. 

Sighing, he reads over the directive again, his blue eyes catching on the sharply scrawled letters of a very familiar name, one that makes his cheeks flush and his heart race. He swallows nervously, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.

How could they know to do this? He wonders sheepishly. It’s not like he’d mentioned her to anyone; hell, he’d never even said so much as three words to her! No, his pathetic little crush was entirely in his mind. 

Too much of a coward to even say hi, he bemoans, trying to stave off the sense of shame he felt as he considered how many times he’d finished with her name on his lips, her pretty face and soft curves and sweet smell and little girly outfits whirling around his head since he’d spotted her on the first fucking day; he’d pined ever since and she didn’t even know he existed! How could she?

This is fucking impossible, he thinks miserably, wishing that he had any other task. He’d rather steal the Queen’s own goddamn family jewels than this. He glances at his watch once more and groans when he sees it’s almost already two in the morning; pushing himself up off the door, he hangs his head as he scurries back to his dorm room, thoughts spiraling as he plots. 

You

A laugh bubbles up past your lips as you sway your hips, your whole body vibrating as “Umbrella” blasts through the speakers while you dance with your friends, partying to celebrate the end of term. 

“You can run into my arms, it’s okay, don't be alarmed!” You sing happily, yours and your friends voices mingling together with another peal of laughter; you take another sip of your drink as you move along with the beat of the song, savoring the fizzy strawberry daiquiri as you begin to feel a bit warm from the little rush of alcohol, already on your third drink of the night. 

You smile proudly as you spot Felix in the crowd, his hazel eyes already fixed on you, or well, fixated on your chest. His attention makes you preen and you bite your lower lip, the sickly sweet taste of your cherry lip gloss filling your mouth as you purposefully bounce up and down on the balls of your feet. 

The thin straps of your pastel pink dress hold on for dear life as your chest heaves enticingly, and you giggle when you see those hazel eyes widen just a bit, no doubt tracing over the glittering chain of your necklace, following down to where it settles, a little sparkly pink diamond nestling temptingly at your cleavage. You teasingly wink, blushing a little when you get a wink back, and go back to dancing with your friends, knowing from experience that Felix preferred to approach rather than be approached. 

You dance with your friends for a few more moments, grinding up against any warm body you can find as a raunchier song begins pumping through the speakers, before you feel eyes on you yet again. Smiling at the attention, you glance around again, the low, colorful lighting of the pub making it hard to tell exactly which direction your admirer’s coming from. 

Your eyes flit over a few familiar faces, you can’t help but sigh in relief when you notice that Oliver’s eyes are thankfully planted firmly on someone that is not you, though a confused little crease forms between your brows when you realize that Felix’s aren’t either. Turning your head, you sway along to the music still as you look around quickly, your feet beginning to ache finally from the precious little satin Chanel heels buckled around your ankles. 

Your eyes finally lock onto an unexpected gaze, a fresh wash of pink coloring your cheeks as blue eyes glance shyly away from you. A little giggle titters past your lips as you lean over to one of your friends, patting her shoulder to get her attention.

“You know who that blond guy is? With the glasses?” You call over the music, nodding over in your admirer’s direction as he stands awkwardly back against the wall by the entrance, clutching a still-foamy pint. 

She glances over before turning back to you with a little shrug. “Michael something, I think!” She says, her breath warm as she leans in closer so you can hear her, “I thought Oliver knew him!”

Your eyes immediately find the brunette, predictably following Felix around like a lost little puppy, before you look back over at Michael. You can’t help but feel a bit bad when you see him quickly look away from your direction again before staring intently into his pint glass, one hand shoved in the pocket of his khaki pants. 

“I’m gonna take a breather for a second!” You yell over the loud music, leaning in close and cupping a hand over her ear. 

“Aw, babe, come on!” She pouts playfully, tilting her head at you, “Stay longer!”

You shake your head with another little laugh and gesture at your feet, “These are sooo cute but they’re killing me!” You laugh, finishing off the last sip of your drink, “I’ll be over by the notice board!” You tell her, blowing a kiss as you walk away from the dance floor of the small, cramped pub. 

Finally, you reach the little area by the front door and lean back against the wall, taking in a much-needed deep breath as you pull your little tube of lip gloss out of your bra and carefully reapply some more, smirking when you glance over out of the corner of your eye and see a certain blond boy already shyly eyeing you. 

Rubbing your lips together with a little pouty pop, you tuck your gloss back in your bra once more before slowly approaching Michael, prettily manicured hands clasped behind your back to help shamelessly push your chest out more. His wide eyed stare makes you giggle and blush as you study him, eyes flitting appreciatively up and down his lithe frame; so much potential hidden away under a little button down and khakis. 

“Haven’t seen you here before,” you tease, smirking when he blushes and all but chokes on his beer, coughing for a few seconds before finally speaking.

“I… Me?” He asks awkwardly, glancing around for seemingly anyone else you could be talking to.

Lucky for him, you find his awkwardness endearing. Truthfully, you had for months, never missing the way his eyes always happened upon you in a crowd. There was something impressive about the boy, something that had made your mind drift to him on more than one occasion, even if you were already under someone else. 

“Of course you, silly,” you laugh softly, leaning against the wall next to him and tilting your head curiously, “You’re Michael, right?”

His eyes go wide again and nods wordlessly before finding his voice. “Yeah, Michael,” he says with a reserved little smile, “Gavey! Michael Gavey…” He adds awkwardly, cheeks flushing even more when you giggle, seemingly charmed by his inability to string two words together. He nods as you introduce yourself.

“I know,” he says before blinking, eyes going wide behind his gold framed glasses as he awkwardly glances away, “I just… I mean I’ve heard your name before, that’s all.”

“That’s all, huh?” You echo with a flirty little giggle, twirling a lock of hair around your finger as you let the moment linger, just wanting to push him a little. “What’re you reading?” You ask curiously, cocking your head to the side a little.

“Maths,” he nods quickly before looking down into his pint glass once more as if fizzling beer is the most interesting thing in the world, “I don’t really like it all that much, though… I mostly only picked it because I’m good at it.”

“Ooh,” you coo softly, nodding along with his words as you watch him carefully, “You must be wicked smart, I can’t do maths to save my life.” You comment with a little giggle, biting your lip when he seems to perk up at that comment and looks up at you with a little grin. 

“I can do it in my head,” he says lowly, an unexpectedly cocky edge to his voice that has your heart picking up in your chest, “Ask me a sum,” he says, a challenging glimmer in his eyes. 

You hum softly, biting your lip as you think for a second, “Uhm, seventy-two plus a hundred and thirteen?”

“One eighty-five,” he chuckles after no more than a second before scoffing a little, “Come on, give me one that’s hard, love.”

Love? The little pet name makes you raise an eyebrow before you laugh softly. “What do you mean a hard one?” You giggle, shaking your head, “That one was hard!”

“That was hard for you?” He teases, making your cheeks tingle as a pink flush settles over your skin, “What’re you reading, then?”

“Art history!” You chirp proudly, chuckling nervously when you see him roll his eyes a bit, “What? Something wrong with that?”

He shakes his head dismissively, quickly polishing off the last of his pint before setting the empty class on a table and turning back to you, pushing his glasses up his nose with a grin, “Ask me another one, then. Biggest numbers you can think of.”

You don’t know why, but something about his little challenge has you blushing again, like he’s testing you somehow. But still, you take a moment to think of some numbers, biting your lip and quirking your eyes up toward the ceiling. 

“Six hundred thirty-two times… eight hundred ninety-one,” you hum, cocking your head to the side as you watch him closely. His eyes seem to glaze over, only for a second, before once again he’s spouting off numbers like a calculator. 

“Five hundred sixty-three thousand, one hundred and twelve.” 

Your eyebrows raise at that as you gawk at him. “Wow…,” you breathe after a moment, blinking as you stare up at him, “You’re, like, super smart, then?”

“Suppose so,” he says, smiling shyly again as he tucks both hands into the pockets of his khaki pants.

You study him for a moment as the conversation lulls, finding something endlessly fascinating about the boy; the way he could swing from being so cocky and self assured to shy and awkward makes your stomach do summersaults. Turning your head, you spot your group of friends still dancing and you look back at Michael with a little sigh as another upbeat song blasts loudly through the pub. 

“D’you wanna get out of here?” You ask, smirking when he looks up at you shyly.

“W-What?”

“My dorm’s only, like, a minute from here,” you flirt, sweet and enticing as you make him blush somehow more, “We could go somewhere more… quiet?”

He stares at you for a moment, shocked that you’re asking him of all people to come back to yours before he nods and nervously runs a hand through his wheat colored hair, unsuccessfully trying to act casual. “Yeah, yeah, I can do that.”

“Yay!” You giggle happily, flirtatiously grabbing one of his hands as you saunter past him, heading for the exit, “C’mon, it’s like a five minute walk!” He nods wordlessly and you can’t help but smirk as he follows you like a lost little puppy. 

True to your word, it’s only a few minutes later when you and Michael reach your dorm room, after you’d stopped for a minute at the entrance to your hall to chat with Farleigh, who seemed very interested in the nerdy boy following at your heels. You just couldn’t wipe the smirk off your face as you and Michael left him standing at the doors, mouth open and a wicked little gleam in his eyes; no doubt, he’d immediately scurried off to the King’s Arms. 

The door to your room opens with a tiny squeak, blasted old building, and you all but prance inside, turning back to the blond boy still lingering in the doorway with a smile. 

“Am I going to have to invite you in like a vampire?” You joke with a little laugh as you bend down to quickly undo the buckles of your heels, letting out a relieved sigh when you finally step out of them, leaving you in frilly white ankle socks.  

Michael finally steps into your room with a huffed laugh and quickly kicks off his shoes, you smirk when you see his Star Wars themed socks. “‘M no vampire, love,” he quips, gold framed eyes darting around your room as he looks over every detail. You grin at the little blush on his cheeks and perch on the edge of your bed to watch him, head tilted ever so slightly. 

“It’s, uh, it’s cute in here,” he observes, his voice a low hum as he takes in your frilly, lacy curtains, plush white rug, and equally girlish floral bedding, all encased in the faint pink glow of the heart-shaped fairy lights strung up around the room, “Just like how I imagined…” He breathes, so lowly you doubt he meant to say that bit aloud. 

“Like you imagined?” You echo with a little giggle, quickly reapplying your lip gloss before setting the little tube on the corner of your desk. 

“I just… I – It’s just very… you, is all I meant,” he stutters, running a hand through his hair awkwardly, the apples of his cheeks flushed a dark pink. 

His awkwardness is so endearing, you can’t help but grin. The more time you spend with him, the more interesting he seems to become; this bumbling, nervous boy is so different from the one you’ve seen on campus so many times. On campus, he’s comfortable, quiet still, but with a definite air of confidence – clearly in his element as he prowls through bookshelves in the library or explains some complex math formula in the quad. 

“So, you think about me often, then?” Your voice stays sweet, innocent almost, though you can’t help but tease him; he’s so pretty when he blushes. 

“No!” He answers quickly, whipping his head toward you from where he’d been studying the various pictures tacked up on the walls, everything from boy band posters to stills from Clueless and Legally Blonde. “I mean, yes, sometimes, I…,” he fumbles again and pushes his glasses up his sharp nose, “I think about you a normal amount.” He says finally, glancing at you quickly before looking away. 

You hum softly and stand before walking toward him with a kind smile, though you don’t miss the way he keeps glancing down at your cleavage, or the way his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat when he swallows nervously. 

“A normal amount?” 

“Mhm,” he nods, gaze unsure as you come to stand in front of him, teeth biting into your plush lower lip as you twirl a piece of hair through your fingers, “As much as I think of anyone else.”

“So…,” you breathe, drawing out the word as you reach up and fiddle with the collar of his button down shirt, the turquoise gingham a bright blue blip among all the blush tones of your room, “Every time I’ve caught you looking at my tits in the library or in the quad or in the hallways… that was just a normal amount?”

You giggle as his eyes go wide, his lips opening and closing like a fish out of water. Deciding to take mercy on him, you run a finger down his chest, playfully fiddling with the buttons on his shirt.

“Relax, I’m not mad,” you shake your head, smiling when the tension in his shoulders visibly eases, “Why wouldn’t I want a cutie like you staring?”

His lips part at that as he sucks in a little breath, blue eyes widening behind his glasses. “You think I’m… cute?” He asks breathlessly, heart pounding under your fingertip. 

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip once more as you nod, cocking your head to the side just slightly as you peer up at him. “‘Course I do, honey, what’s not to like?”

Again, he gawks at you, blinking in shock and swallowing nervously.

“I –” 

“I do have one question though…,” you tease, pouting a bit as you slowly and carefully undo the very top button on his shirt, relishing the way his breath hitches in his throat. 

“Y-Yeah?” His voice breaks, making you giggle while he blushes somehow deeper.

“Mhm,” you nod, undoing the second button and pausing when you find a splash of hair across his chest, the same shiny wheat color as the hair on his head, causing a familiar knot to begin twisting itself up in your belly, “Why were you at the end of term party?”

He blinks for a second, evidently taken off guard. “I… W-Was it invite only?”

His question nearly makes you snort and you shake your head, the corners of your lips twitching as you try not to laugh. “No, sweetie,” you peer up at him through your lashes as you rest your hand against his bare chest, smirking ever so slightly when he shivers, “I just meant, I haven’t seen you at parties before… doesn’t really seem like your kind of thing.” 

“I, well,” he stammers, the bottoms of his glasses fogging up from the heat radiating off his cheeks, “I just –”

“It’s for that club, yeah?” You ask finally, giggling at the shocked expression on his face.

“How do –”

“You lot are not nearly as sneaky as you think,” you laugh cheekily, bouncing excitedly on the balls of your feet, “Plus, I heard Felix and Oliver whispering about something to do with tasks a few weeks ago… and boys are very bad at keeping secrets once you get their cocks out.” You add with a little giggle, taking Michael’s hand once more and dragging him over to your plush bed. You sit him on the edge before all but climbing in his lap, smiling cheekily as you straddle his thighs, your knees digging into your soft bedding.

“So,” you start, holding onto his shoulders to balance yourself and smiling a little when he finally touches you, lightly resting his hands on your hips, “What’s your task, hm? I heard they made them, like, particularly brutal this year.”

“I don’t think I should say,” Michael murmurs with a little shake of his head, making you pout.

“Oh, come on!” You bounce on his lap a little, not missing the way his eyes seem to be drawn to your breasts like magnets, “I want to help! Is it something at the King’s Arms?”

“N-No, I really don’t think –”

“I know they keep the important rugby trophies there,” you think aloud, still playing dumb, just wanting him to say it, “Is that it? D’you have to steal one? One of the boys that works there owes me, I could get him to let you in after hours…” You prattle on, speaking faster and faster as Michael shakes his head beneath you.

Finally, he seems to reach a breaking point and his grip on your hips tightens. “I have to fuck you!” He blurts out before sighing.

“Oh, really?”

“I… I have to fuck you –”

“Mhm?”

“And prove I did somehow.”

“How interesting!”

He narrows his eyes at that and peers up at you suspiciously, studying you carefully. You can’t help but giggle, loving the way you feel when his eyes are on you, and you smirk when he finally blinks in realization.

“You… you knew this whole time, didn’t you?”

A sly smile spreads across your lips as you nod, squirming excitedly on his lap. “Like I said,” you chuckle with a little shrug, “Not. Sneaky!” You tease, punctuating each word with a little boop to the tip of his nose, unable to resist. 

He stays silent for a moment, gazing up at you with a strange mixture of awe and unease before he finally speaks through a deep sigh. “So, I suppose this is the part where you tell me to leave?”

Well, that comment throws you off. You cock your head to the side, confused, as your eyebrows furrow together. “Why would I ask you to leave?”

He sighs again and grits his teeth, looking dejectedly at the floor. “Come on, love,” he mutters, looking anywhere but you, “I-It’s not like you’d ever want to –”

“Ever want to what?” You ask with a frown, gently grabbing at his chin and tilting his head up, forcing him to meet your gaze, “You think I don’t wanna fuck you, honey?”

“Well, I –”

“Michael,” you say pointedly, raising your brows as you smirk slightly, staring deeply into his blue eyes, “I’m the one that came onto you, yeah?”

“I… I suppose.”

“Mhm,” you hum, nodding your head as you run your fingers through his short hair, not missing the little sigh that leaves his lips when you push yourself closer to him, your chest pressing tightly against his, “And while I’m not thrilled at our first time being for some stupid little task –”

“It’s,” he cuts you off shyly, shaking his head ever so slightly, “It’s – I’ve never…” He stammers, nervously gripping at your waist once more. 

You can’t help but smile softly, so charmed by him over and over. You nod your head knowingly, raising your brows just a bit. “I know, honey,” you whisper reassuringly, “We don’t have to, I’ll let you take a pair of my panties or whatever else, but we don’t need to do anything.”

He sighs up at you again, so taken with you he feels like he could scream, and shakes his head more, grabbing at your hips tighter, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. “N-No, I… I want to,” he nods, swallowing anxiously, “I do, I just… don’t really know what I’m doing.”

You nod again, listening carefully as he speaks. “So, is it all new or…?”

He shakes his head and smiles a little, shyly, though the sight of it still makes that knot in your belly tighten further, making you blush on his lap while butterflies swirl around inside you. “I’ve kissed before,” he says lowly, chuckling awkwardly as he seems to get bolder, causing you to shudder when he lightly rubs his hands over your waist and hips, “And done… hand stuff.”

You giggle at his boyish explanation and bite your lip when you smile at him, wiggling in his lap as a heat begins to settle at the apex of your thighs. “Can I kiss you, honey?” 

His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat again, making you want so badly to press soft, glossy kisses to it, but you resist, determined to make this good for him. 

“Yeah,” he nods eagerly, blue eyes fixated on your lips.

You smile softly before leaning in and finally pressing your lips against his, both of you sighing at once. One of his hands stays at your hip while the other comes to rest in the small of your back, pressing you more tightly to him as your lips move together, his motions surprisingly fluid and practiced. 

You make a small noise in the back of your throat when you feel his tongue licking at your bottom lip, and eagerly allow him access with a little sigh. Your fingers busy themselves with unbuttoning the rest of his shirt, making him shudder beneath you when you skim your hands over his bare chest and stomach as his tongue flows with your own, the bitter, coffee-ish flavor of the pint he’d had earlier still on his tongue.

Impatient, you pull back long enough to look at him for reassurance, smiling when you earn a little nod. You kiss him once more before tugging his shirt off, flushing when he groans lowly as you trail kisses down over his jaw and neck before swiping your tongue greedily over his Adam’s apple, making his breath hitch. 

“F-Fuck,” he sighs brokenly, bolding tracing over your thigh until his fingers are tucked up under the silky, baby pink material of your dress. His touches make you shiver as goosebumps bloom over your skin, making you whine against the pale column of his throat, “Can I?” He breathes, fingers toying with a strap of your dress while the others slowly inched the bottom of it up higher and higher. 

“God, please,” you mewl, nodding against his throat, your head on his shoulder. He shudders at the feel of your breath on his neck and nods once before tugging at the bottom of your dress. You sit up to help him, whining when you feel his hard length pressing against your thin, lacy underwear, “You don’t need to ask, Michael. Want you to take me however you want.” You whisper as he tugs your dress over your head, blue eyes meeting yours for a second as he nods before they skim lower, widening as he takes you in on his lap wearing only a bra and panties. 

“Holy shit,” he breathes, making you giggle shyly as you lean in and softly kiss over his cheeks, “You have…you’re – you’re perfect,” he sighs, brazenly cupping your breasts, skimming his thumbs over your nipples through the thin pink fabric of your bra and smiling proudly when he feels them harden at his touch, “You’re perfect, but these are… holy shit.” He repeats, his voice breathy and mesmerized as he takes in your chest for another moment while you softly card your fingers through his golden hair. 

You gasp through a little giggle when you feel his length twitch, even through his trousers, and wiggle on his lap, blushing when the movement earns you a broken groan. “Yeah?” You whisper cheekily, watching as he marvels at your chest for a second longer before quickly unclasping your bra and shrugging out of it, tossing it down onto the floor with his shirt and your dress, “What about now?” You tease, proudly arching your back as you bite your lip.

He groans again, louder than he has all evening, and instantly ducks his head down. The feel of his soft lips wrapping eagerly around one of your nipples makes you cry out, gasping sharply as he sucks at the sensitive bud before he runs his tongue over it. You cradle the back of his head in your hands, fingers lightly pulling at the short strands of hair, as he switches from one breast to the other, kneading whichever one is free with his hand. 

Needing something, anything, you finally pull him off of your chest after a few moments, laughing when he all but whines, and smiling even more when you take in his disheveled appearance – blond hair sticking up at odd angles from where you’d run your fingers through it, cheeks flushed as his glasses sit crooked on his nose, and his blue eyes staring up at you hungrily. 

You shift back on his thighs just enough to snake a hand between the two of you and he gasps when you cup the bulge pressing against the zipper of his khakis. “You want me to suck your cock?” You ask cheekily, lightly squeezing at his length. 

He surprises you by shaking his head no,gulping slightly with an awkward laugh before answering. “I do, I really fucking do, love,” he breathes, kneading at your breasts as he stares up at you sheepishly, “B-But I really want to last and if you… if you suck it, I –”

“Okay, okay,” you stop him with a kiss, “We’ll table it for next time.” 

“N-Next time?” He questions, fighting to keep his eyes open as you press kisses against his neck once more. You nod against his shoulder and press kisses up to just beneath his ear. 

“I’m not letting you go that easy, honey,” you whisper, chuckling when he shivers. You spend another moment softly kissing and biting at his neck before speaking again, “Have you ever eaten anyone out?” You question, pulling back to look at him.

He shakes his head, his eyes flicking between both of yours as he looks up at you. “No.” He answers simply, his voice hardly a whisper. 

You can’t help but smirk coyly and cock your head to the side, running a finger through the little patch of hair on his chest just to see him shudder. “You wanna try it?”

He nods eagerly and surprises you once again by quickly swinging you around, maneuvering you until your head rests on the pillows of your bed. You squeal at the movement, laughing with him as he settles over you, his narrow hips slotting easily between your thighs as you silently marvel at his unexpected strength, the shock of it going right between your legs. 

“You want me to lick your pussy?” He asks lowly, grinning when he sees your eyes widen ever so slightly. 

“You’re quite something, huh?” You breathe, still gazing up at him in surprise. 

“Observant,” he shrugs, smirking as he sits up, kneeling between your legs, “You aren’t the only one who is, love.” He teases, quickly undoing his belt and trousers and groaning as he pushes them down his thighs, stopping at his knees. 

Your eyes go wide at the size of his length, it’s clearly very impressive and it’s not even out of his plaid boxers yet. That smirk stays plastered on his face as he leans back down to hover over you, hastily removing his glasses and sitting them on your desk before sloppily kissing you for a moment, surprising you yet again by trailing wet kisses down your neck. 

“Michael…” You sigh dreamily, arching your back toward him when he starts kissing over your chest. He groans from deep in his chest, mouth pressed against the fat of your breast. 

“Fucking hell,” he curses, teasing your nipple again with the tip of his tongue, “Say it again, love.” 

His simple command sends shivers down your spine and you mewl, squirming underneath him, “M-Michael!” You moan again, fumbling over your words as he sucks at your breast again before he lifts his head. 

“Good girl,” he purrs with a sly, easy smirk that makes your heart jump, a soft sigh tumbling past your lips. He shifts further down the bed, kissing down over your ribs and stomach, his confidence seemingly growing every time he presses his lips against your skin; the thought makes your head spin.

Finally, he hooks his fingers into the lacy sides of your panties, and his eyes peer up at you as he tugs them down over your hips before flinging them onto the floor. “Oh, my God…,” he sighs, staring greedily at your pussy, a broken groan sounds from his throat when you spread your legs more. 

You bite your lip and giggle, smiling shyly as you tangle your fingers in his hair once more. “Like what you see?” 

He nods his head rapidly, making you chuckle again as he stares up at you, an almost pained expression on his face. “I… uh, w-what now?” 

He’s so endearing, you can’t help the little sigh that leaves you and you sit up a little, leaning back on an elbow as you use your other hand to spread your center open. You bite your bottom lip once more when he whines a little, seeing you all spread out before him, flushed folds already slick and shiny. 

“Lick here, honey,” you whimper as you skim your fingers over your clit, so keyed up from only a few kisses that you gasp a little when you feel yourself clench; Michael looks like he may pass out. 

Ever the dutiful student, he gives you one last look before diving in. Your head falls back with a whiny gasp as his tongue snakes over your clit, just as you’d instructed. A long, shuddery moan leaves him, vibrating against your cunt and you watch as his blue eyes all but roll back in his head. 

“Just like that, Michael,” you praise, tugging at his hair ever so slightly, which only serves to make him moan more. Your chest heaves as you watch him, determined not to let your eyes squeeze shut while he licks and kisses and sucks at your pussy like a man possessed, “Holy shit!” You whimper loudly when he pushes his tongue into you, groaning lowly when he feels your walls clench around it as he presses his nose perfectly against your clit. 

“You taste so good,” he gasps, wrapping his hands around your thighs to keep you exactly where he wants. He peers up at you through blond lashes as he feasts on you, sucking eagerly at your clit and savoring the way you shiver and squirm from his motions. 

Unbelievably, you already feel that warm, familiar tug in your belly beginning to grow, making your whole body feel flush and taut. “Just like that, just like that,” you whine urgently, grabbing onto his hair tighter and guiding his mouth exactly where you need it, your eyes finally rolling back and fluttering shut, “Holy fuck, don’t stop!” 

Michael grunts as you tug at his hair, his own hips rutting greedily against your pretty bedding — cock throbbing so hard there’s no doubt he’s leaked through his boxers. He watches you carefully, studying your movements and reactions as best he can while he rhythmically licks at your clit. 

“Oh, shit!” You cry not even a moment later, your whole body seeming to stutter as your muscles finally relax. You mewl as your high finally washes over you, savoring the way Michael groans into your cunt as he feels it contracting on his tongue. Your eyes stay squeezed shut as shivers roll up and down your spine, shuddered cries leaving your lips. 

Just as his touches begin to border on overstimulation, you have enough wherewithal to push him away, and he releases your center with a lewd little pop. 

“Was that good?” He asks through a breathless laugh, swallowing as he looks up at you, evidence of your arousal still shining on his lips and chin. 

“Good?” You huff, eyebrows raised as you gaze down at him, “You’re sure you’ve never done that before?” You question in disbelief, chest still heaving. 

He smiles shyly, already pink cheeks seeming to flush deeper from your praise as he chuckles. You cup his cheeks when he leans over you again, whimpering as you taste yourself on his tongue. 

“You’re unbelievable.” You sign as he kisses down your neck again, making him chuckle against your skin. 

“Just observant,” he grunts, shuddering when you wrap your legs around his trim waist. You gasp as his length brushes over your still sensitive pussy, impossibly hot and hard even through the thin fabric of his boxers. His fragmented sigh makes you smile and you tug his head up, blushing as you look up at him. 

“You ready, honey?” You breathe, giggling when he nods his head again eagerly, his hips stuttering instinctually against your center. “Here, let me…” You trail off, the two of you separating for a moment as you lean over and pull open the top drawer of your desk, pulling out a pack of condoms and tearing one off before laying back down. 

You watch enraptured as he kneels between your legs again, pulling down his boxers finally. “Holy…” you gasp when his cock finally bobs free, twitching up to rut against his lower stomach; he’s long and thick, curving a little as veins run up the underside, leading to a flushed, leaking head. He smiles shyly again at your attention as he shuffles awkwardly out of his trousers and underwear, kicking them off and onto the floor.

You hand him the condom and watch as he rolls it on, giving him a little reassuring smile as he does. Once it’s securely in place, you pull him back to you, eagerly kissing him once more and wrapping your legs securely around his waist. Both of you moan in unison when his length glides through your folds, the head catching perfectly on your clit. 

He pulls away with a little gasp, hovering over you as he glances down at your hips. “S-So, I just…” He trails off, watching as you reach down with one hand, grunting softly when you wrap your hand around his cock. 

Carefully, you position him at your entrance and angle your hips a little. “Go on, honey,” you encourage with a soft smile, running your other hand over his chest. 

Nodding once, he presses forward and swears he sees God. “F-Fucking hell,” he groans, loudly sighing your name as he carefully guides himself into you, absolutely in awe at the way your hot cunt grips him. His eyes squeeze shut, his hips resting firmly against yours as his chest heaves, breaths coming in short, sharp pants. 

You aren’t fairing much better, head spinning at the way he splits you open, pressing incessantly at each and every sensitive spot within you. You pant against his neck as he stills, pressed deeply within you. 

“D-Do… fuck, do I just…?” Michael stutters, giving half-hearted little thrusts to test the waters. 

“Yes!” You answer instantly, anxiously nodding up at him as your hips wiggle against the bedsheets, making him swear and shudder above you, “Just move, honey, do what feels good.” 

He groans again and gives a little nod before experimentally moving his hips again, pulling out more this time before pushing back in. “Shit,” he breathes above you, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he grunts with each roll of his hips. 

You pant underneath him, spurring him on by pressing your feet against his backside, urging him to move faster and faster as the frilly lace from your socks tickles his pale skin. “You’re doing so, so good, oh, my God,” you breathe, your voice high-pitched and whimpery as you tangle your fingers in his hair again, knowing by now that it drives him crazy. 

Above you, Michael’s hips slowly but surely begin to stutter, his thrusts starting to peter out as his breathing picks up. “I’m —!”

“Wait!” You blurt suddenly, smiling wickedly as he comes to a screeching halt, pushing himself up enough to stare down at you with wild eyes, “I have an idea…” You tease with a little giggle. 

“W-What?” 

“You have a phone, yeah?” 

“…Yeah?”

“One that can, like, take video?” 

“Yes?” 

“Grab it,” you laugh, pushing him off of you with a laugh. He rolls his eyes with a smirk but does as you ask, clumsily pulling himself from your heat before stumbling over to where his khakis had landed. He shuffles about for a second before pulling a silver phone from the pocket of his trousers. 

“Now what?” He asks curiously, positioning himself back between your thighs, cock twitching meanly. 

“Film me.” 

“What?!” He gapes at you, brows creased. 

“Film me, honey,” you giggle, biting your lip conspiratorially, “For your little task, you need proof, yeah?” 

“Well, yeah, b-but I can just take your panties or something, I don’t —“

“Or you could bring back something better…” You smirk, shrugging your shoulders playfully, “We don’t have to but… it could be kinda hot?” 

He pauses for a moment, eyes flicking between you, your pussy, and the phone in his hand before he nods once, curtly. “We… we can try it.” 

“Yeah? You wanna?” 

“Yeah,” he quips, catching you by surprise as a mean little smirk spreads over his lips, “Wanna see the look on Catton’s face when he sees you creaming on my cock.” 

Your eyes widen and you huff out a shocked laugh, a zing of electricity lighting behind your eyes. “You’re insane,” you say softly, an endeared smile on your lips. 

He snickers, his whole demeanor seeming to change before your eyes as he transforms from this shy, stuttering boy into an astonishingly cocky man. “You like it, love,” he teases, grabbing his dick and positioning himself at your entrance yet again. 

“Wait!” You giggle again, blushing as he groans. 

“You don’t want to anymore?” 

“No, no, not that,” you assure him, affectionately running your hand down one of his shockingly muscular arms, “You can film me… on one condition.” 

“‘N what would that be?” 

“Take me on a date.” You breathe, suddenly shy. You know he’ll agree to it, but even still, your heart pumps wildly in your chest. 

He stares at you for a second, blinking dumbly as he processes your request. “You want me to take you on a date?” He asks, flushing so deeply that the soft pink hue cascades all the way down to his chest. 

Giggling, you nod your head, giving his forearm a reassuring squeeze. “You need to start giving yourself more credit, honey.” 

He sighs at that, a little astounded huff, before he’s suddenly grabbing at your calves and pushing your legs up toward your shoulders, all but bending you in half, anxious to get his cock back into you. You gasp at the movement, and chuckle at his eagerness, a sound that morphs into a whiny moan when he slides back home. 

“Christ,” he grunts, shoulders heaving as he gets used to the way you feel around him once more, “Y-You feel so good, love, fucking perfect.” 

“You’re so big,” you whine, nodding as you look at him like he hung the stars in the sky, “You’re so good, Michael, you have no idea.” 

He groans above you, hands shaking as he grabs for his phone, flipping it open and quickly opening the camera as his hips rut into you, making the springs of your bed creak softly. 

As soon as Michael gives you a little nod to let you know he’s filming, you truly put on a show — or well, you at least stop trying to quiet yourself down and be conscientious of the people in the rooms next to you. The way he has your legs bent back makes him feel somehow bigger and causes his cock to hit that sensitive spot within you with pinpoint accuracy every time he thrusts in, making you clench around him and moan loudly each time he moves his hips against you. 

You watch as he angles the camera down a bit, no doubt pointing it at the spot the two of you are joined together, letting the camera record his cock sliding in and out of you. When he moves it back up, however, to get your face as evidence, you plaster on the cheekiest grin you can muster. 

“H-Hi boys,” you tease breathlessly, smirking as you lean up on one elbow. You wave with your other hand before blowing a kiss to the camera, which makes Michael cockily laugh.

“Fuck, I gotta…” he mutters after a few more seconds, carelessly dropping his phone down on the bed before roughly grabbing at your thighs with a bruising grip, one that makes you mewl and arch your back toward him. The two of you moan and whimper in unison as he begins thrusting wildly, seemingly too worked up to care about anything but cumming. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You chant over and over, head spinning as he bullies your sweet spot. 

“That’s it, love,” Michael murmurs, his voice gruff and low as he stares down at you, strands of his hair sticking to his forehead; he looks wilder than you’ve ever seen him, the thought only serving to push you closer and closer to the edge. “S-Shit, that’s it. Fucking come for me, cream on my cock; please, please, please,” he murmurs, leaning down to press desperate kisses against your neck and collarbones. 

The new position causes his pubic bone to rub deliciously over your clit, making you seize beneath him with a loud whine. Your toes curl, heels still pressing into the small of his back. “M-Michael, holy fuck!” You practically squeal as your high finally washes over you once more, stars dancing behind your eyelids as you go lax and pliant underneath him. 

The feel of your walls pulsing around his cock has Michael reeling, his hips somehow thrusting even faster as he both desperately wants to cum while also never wanting this feeling to end. “C-Cum, honey, cum,” you pant softly, cupping his cheek with one hand and turning his face toward yours. 

That does him in and the rubber band in his belly viciously snaps, making him shudder above you as his thrusts come to a halt, cock twitching wildly inside you as he empties himself into the condom. You watch him in awe, taking in every detail from the way his nose scrunches up as his eyes squeeze close to the way he whispers your name over and over like a prayer. 

The two of you lay in silence for a moment, his breath warm against your neck as he slumps against you trying to catch his breath. 

Eventually, you can’t help it anymore and let out a breathless giggle, which only intensifies when he props himself up on an elbow to peer down at you with a smirk. 

“Something funny?” 

“Just,” you breathe, trying to calm yourself enough to get words out, “Just… wow,” you finally say, giggles petering out as you look up at him, the soft gleam in his eyes makes your heart clench in your chest. 

“Good wow?” He blushes, looking down between the two of you as he pulls himself from your walls with a little hiss. 

“Very, very good wow,” you confirm, grinning as you watch him pull off the condom before he peers up at you with a sheepish grin. “Tie it off, honey,” you instruct, smirking as he does just that, before nodding to the little wastebasket by your desk. 

He gets up with a groan and quickly tosses the condom in the trash before turning back to you, the bashful look on his face making you blush. 

Unable to resist, you grin at him and spread your arms with a giggle, wordlessly inviting him for a cuddle, which he gladly accepts. The bed creaks slightly as he lays back down, relaxing his head on the pillow just beside yours. Again, the two of you stay silent for a moment, content to merely gaze at one another, before he shyly looks away and sighs. 

“I…,” he starts, blue eyes blinking and flitting around your room as he gathers his thoughts, “Thank you,” he finally says, looking back at you with a little half smile. 

Your brows furrow at this as you grin at him. “What’re you thanking me for?” 

“Well, f-for… this,” he says, gesturing vaguely at the two of you before sitting up just slightly and fishing around in the blankets for a second. “And this,” he sighs, holding his phone up before twisting around to set it on the corner of your desk, turning back to you. “I just… I know you didn’t have to, is all, so…” 

You cock your head to the side as you prop yourself up on an elbow, eyes narrowing as you study him closely. “And people have the nerve to say I’m thick,” you joke, lips spreading into a wide grin as you gaze down at him, “I wanted to do all this, Michael. I’m the one that came onto you, remember?” 

“W-Well, yeah, but —“

“No buts!” You laugh, pressing a finger against his lips as you shake your head, “I have eyes too, you know.” 

“What does that mean?” 

“You haven’t been the only one watching someone for months,” you giggle shyly, pressing your forehead against his, “I meant what I said about that date, too.” 

His arms wind around your waist, holding you tight as he processes your words with a dumbstruck smile, blushing under your gaze. “Whatever you say, love,” he concedes finally, pressing his lips against yours sweetly. 

He yawns tiredly when he pulls away from you after a moment, which only makes you yawn as well, and you glance over at the little clock on your dresser. “Christ,” you gasp, turning back to him, “I didn’t realize it’s already almost four… you can crash here, if you want?” 

He considers it for a moment, knowing he has to be back in that stupid little basement by noon and making a mental map of where exactly your dormitory is in relation to the Merton College Chapel. “I… I can stay, yeah,” he finally nods after a moment. 

“You’re sure?” 

“Love, I’m not sure my legs work well enough yet to walk out of here anyway.” 

Michael

Groaning, Michael slowly blinks his eyes open, rubbing them softly as he sits up in bed with a yawn. Blindly reaching over for his glasses, he’s confused when he doesn’t feel them in their usual spot and finally opens his eyes properly. 

He stares, confused for a moment as to how exactly he somehow got transported into what appears to be Barbie’s damn dream house, before the events of last night come flooding back to him. 

“Holy shit,” he breathes when he turns his head and sees your still-sleeping form beneath your flowery sheets, your hair tousled wildly on the pillow as your shoulders rise and fall evenly still with each breath. Looking around, he finally spots his glasses and puts them on before reaching for his phone, and cursing again when he sees the time. 

11:47 AM. 

He practically falls out of your bed as he tries to extricate himself from the sheets, and he hears you wake with a start behind him as he grabs wildly at his clothes on the floor. 

“Michael?” You ask questioningly, your voice still hoarse from sleep as you, frankly fucking adorably, rub at your eyes before fixing him with a curious look. 

“Gotta, shit, gotta run,” he explains quickly, cursing as he nearly loses his balance trying to tug his trousers on, “Need to be at Merton Chapel in, like, Christ, ten minutes!” 

“Ohh,” you giggle softly, watching with amusement as he finishes getting dressed, hair and clothes so disheveled that he’s sure he looks like the very definition of the walk of shame. 

Just as he’s tugging his shoes on and making a mad dash for the door, you stop him. “Here,” you smirk, holding out the same lacy pair of pink panties you wore last night, “For proof,” you explain, nodding to the phone in his hand, “Along with that. Should be more than enough,” you giggle proudly. 

He smiled sheepishly as he pockets your underwear. “T-Thanks,” he nods, turning to leave before you stop him once more. 

He can’t help but blush when you lean in and press and quick kiss to his lips, your cherry chapstick rubbing off on him some. Pulling away, you playfully smack his chest with a little grin. “Go get ‘em, honey.” 

Nodding, he smiles again before finally pulling your door open and bounding down the hallway. “I’ll text you, love!” He calls, peering back just before he rounds a corner, “About that date!” 

It’s 11:58 on the dot when he flings the basement door open, only to be pulled over to the same stupid dank basement wall, his back hitting it once more with a dull thud. 

Glancing around, he sees the ski-masked boys again, all fifteen of them, standing in a row with the head boy slightly out of line. To his left stands one of the other initiates, clutching a black tube of some sort. 

The basement stays silent for a moment before one of the masked boy’s watch alarms goes off just as the bells in the tower begin to chime. 

Once, twice, all the way up to twelve. Noon.

Right on cue, the head boy steps forward even more and looks between Michael and the other initiate. “Your friend couldn’t be bothered to show his face, then?” He asks, dark eyes peering at the boy next to Michael. 

He scoffs and shakes his head, glaring at the head boy. “He’s still at the bank!” He snaps, “All the way in bloody Switzerland,” he kicks at the dirty stone floor as he explains, “Dickhead,” he finally mutters lowly under his breath. 

“Shame,” the head boy quips, clasping his hands in front of his waist, “Some men are simply not cut out for Bullingdon.” 

The boys in the row behind him nod knowingly, each making some little noise of affirmation until the head boy quickly stops them, holding a fist up by his head, bringing it back down to his side when they shut up. 

“So, initiates, what’ve you got?” 

The boy next to Michael steps forward first and hands the black tube to the head boy with a sigh. “There,” he says, gesturing to it, “There’s your bloody map. My mum could get sacked for that.” 

The head boy pops open one end of the tube, a document sleeve Michael now realizes, and gingerly extracts a rolled up piece of parchment from it, unrolling it just enough to confirm it's what they asked for. 

“Well done, initiate,” he nods, seemingly impressed as he flashes a smile at the boy, white teeth gleaming creepily through the slit in his ski mask. Carefully, he rolls the document up again before sliding it back in the tube, “Your commitment to Bullingdon will take you far. Welcome to the fray.” 

The boy stands still for a moment, eyeing the document tube with an almost regretful expression before curtly nodding and taking his place back against the wall. 

“And then there was one,” the head boy murmurs, dark faze fixed on Michael, “I seem to remember we gave you quite the… interesting task indeed, initiate. How did you manage?” 

Smiling damn near arrogantly, Michael all but skips up the head boy and proudly pulls your panties from his back pocket, letting them dangle from his index finger. “See for yourself.” 

The head boy grabs them by the edge and studies them for a moment, turning back to the row of boys behind him with a questioning glance. The boy Michael knows already to be that cunt, Oliver Quick, glances between him, the panties, and Michael, before cutting a sideways glance to a tall boy standing next to him. 

“These could be anyone’s,” the head boy says, turning back to Michael as he shakes his head, “You could’ve nicked them from your sister or something, we’ll need more than this, initiate.”

“Don’t even have a sister,” Michael quips, shrugging his shoulders with a little frown. 

“Okay, like, your cousin or something then –”

“Don’t have a female cousin,” he says with a shake of his head, “All boys.”

“The point still stands!” The head boy finally snaps, making Michael bite the inside of his cheek to hide a little laugh, though the corner of his lips still quirks up in a smirk, “You haven’t got any proof, do you? Is that why you’re stalling?”

Huffing a little laugh, Michael finally lets himself smirk meanly and steps closer to the head boy as he pulls his phone from his pocket, flips it open, and navigates to his video gallery. “Is this enough proof?” He teases, pressing play on the most recent video. 

The picture is small and grainy but there’s no doubt as to what’s happening as the sound of your pretty whimpers and moans echoes around the brick basement, along with the wet smack of Michael’s cock driving into you again and again. 

The head boy stares at the screen still as curiosity gets to a few of the boys in the row behind him and they all come crowd around Michael’s phone, eyes widening behind their ski masks and mouths falling open. 

The tallest one, the one Oliver keeps glancing at, lets out a long sigh as he peers down at the small screen and brings a hand up to his head as if he were going to run it through his hair before remembering the mask he has on. With him this close, Michael finally notices the little silver barbell stuck through his eyebrow and shivers as his lips curl up into a sadistic Cheshire cat smile, a tidal wave of savage pride crashing through his system. 

Finally, fucking finally, I get something he wants, he thinks as your breathy moans continue to pour from the speaker of his phone, tinny and muffled in some spots where he’d accidentally covered the microphone, but beautiful, beautiful and because of him.

After a moment, the video ends, the tiny phone screen reverting back to it’s little thumbnail as the head boy peers up at Michael, the rest of the club members taking their places back in line, though he can’t help but notice that Felix’s broad shoulders are slumped now and Oliver stands ever closer to him, like some kind of fucked up bodyguard. 

“I’ll be damned, initiate,” the head boy sighs with a shake of his head, “I really didn’t think you had it in you.”

He watches as Michael merely nods and pockets his phone again, holding it tightly in his fist even still. After a second, he smiles widely and claps a hand on his shoulder, shaking him slightly.

“Welcome to Bullingdon.”

Some time later, Michael finally exits the basement, a few of the club members, sans ski masks now, nodding goodbye to him as they disperse across campus, meeting adjourned. 

He wasn’t really sure what he’d been expecting from the initial meeting but it was mostly them prattling on about where exactly they had all their grubby little fingers, poked in seemingly every facet of society from Parliament to local newspapers. 

Braggy cunts, Michael thinks as he ambles outside, glancing up at the sky as he steps into the Mob Quad, surrounded by stony old buildings. 

Smiling to himself, he pulls out his phone and quickly finds your number in his contacts list, blushing when he sees you’ve taken the liberty of adding some girly heart emoticon next to it. He hardly has time to press it against his ear before you answer.

“Well?” You demand with that now familiar giggle, some unfamiliar pop song playing in the background.

“I’m in,” he confirms, nodding to himself as he slowly walks in the direction of his dormitory, “Thanks to you.” He smiles like an idiot when you laugh.

“Don’t sell yourself short, honey,” you tease, he can picture your bright, glossy smile in his head, “You earned that spot.”

Michael merely shakes his head with a happy little sigh. “So,” he starts, clearing his throat and pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “About that date… I was thinking the King’s Arms? Tonight at six, if that works?”

“Oooh, tonight at six,” you repeat teasingly, an image flashing in his mind of you twirling your hair around a perfectly manicured finger, “Someone’s quite eager, hm?”

“Can you blame me?”

“Hmm, I suppose not,” you giggle, pausing for a second, “It’s a date then.”

“Fantastic,” Michael sighs, trying with every fiber of his being to sound casual and cool about the whole thing, even as his heart threatens to beat out of his chest. 

“See you tonight, Mr. Bullingdon,” you tease, making a little kissy sound into the phone before hanging up. 

Michael pauses for a moment, standing to the side on the pavement as he nods to himself. If it weren’t so fucking cheesy, he’d raise his fist in the air, victorious, à la Judd Nelson at the end of The Breakfast Club. 

Instead, he flips his phone back open and navigates back to your video. Sighing, he stares at the little thumbnail for a second before deleting it, pocketing his phone once more, and continuing back to his dormitory. 

He has the real thing now.

taggled lovelies: @helloworldiamnotarobot @drakonflames @marysucks-blog @watercolorskyy @valeskafics @iamaegontargaryenwife0 @aemshaircare @1997babyyyy @lovellies @little-moonbeam-666 @blackswxnn @wickedfrsgrl @echos-muses @imawhorecrux @avidreader73 @marvelescape @rae-11 @ms-morningstarr @chaotic-fangirl-blog @grsveeth0m @twglitching @hb8301 @delulumhaggy @burntliquorlips @fan-goddess @cl-0-vr @kittendoll05 @beautbuck @eponaartemisa @trshngyn @brettlovessuckingcocks @alerisc @moonriseoverkyoto @wolfdressedinlace @do-double-g @kennafild

(tags are based on your answers to my google form; if you were mistakenly tagged, please contact me & update your answers on the form! thank you!)

[xxbirkindoll]

tangled lines | 18+

pairings: bsf!rafe x bimbo!reader

warnings: unprotected sex, jealous & possessive rafe, fluff, reader is kind of an airhead, soft!rafe, smut, soft sex, oral (fem!receiving), reader uses the word “daddy” two times

summary: rafe gets jealous after seeing reader with a guy at a party and things gets heated when they get to his house

word count: 5.2k

You and Rafe Cameron have always been inseparable. From the time you were kids on the Cut to now, practically glued together as if one of you couldn’t function without the other. You’re the only person who can put up with Rafe’s moods, his temper, and his intense need for control. But you don’t just put up with it, you adore it.

You aren’t scheming or calculating; you don’t try to be mysterious or play hard to get. You’re…well, you’re simple in the best way. You have a heart that could outshine the sun, but sometimes it feels like your head is in the clouds. You aren’t exactly known for your smarts, but that doesn’t bother you. Or Rafe, for that matter.

He loves you for your warmth, your loyalty, and how you can light up any room you enter. But there’s another side to your friendship that’s anything but innocent.

It starts with the little things—Rafe keeping a hand on your back when you walk through crowded rooms, the way he leans in to whisper something in your ear and then lets his lips linger a bit too close to your skin. And when he stares down any guy who so much as looks at you, you don’t ask questions. You just accept it as Rafe being Rafe, your best friend who always takes care of you.

You adore the way he is with you, how he makes you feel like you’re the only girl in the world. And maybe you’re too oblivious to notice how strange it is for two best friends to act this way. How other people often raise an eyebrow when they see the two of you together, whispering to each other or exchanging looks that seem to hold secrets no one else can understand.

But what everyone doesn’t know is that you love it. You love every moment of it. The attention, the possessiveness, the way he always has his arm around you. It makes you feel safe, cherished, and, though you would never admit it, desired.

And then there are the parties. The kooks love their parties, and you and Rafe are always at the center of them. It’s just another Saturday night, and the familiar buzz of bass-heavy music vibrates through the house. Bodies sway, alcohol flows freely, and the scent of sweat and perfume mingles in the air.

Rafe is easy to spot in any crowd. He stands taller than most, and there’s a certain confidence in his stance that draws people’s attention. You’re always close by, smiling and laughing, blissfully unaware of the longing looks Rafe casts your way when you’re not looking.

Tonight, you wear a tiny, tight pink dress that hugs your curves and shows off your long legs. Rafe can’t keep his eyes off you. The way the fabric clings to your body, the way your plump lips pout naturally without you even trying. It’s driving him insane.

You’re at the bar, chatting with one of the other kooks. Some guy who Rafe vaguely recognizes but couldn’t care less about. His name doesn’t matter. What matters is the way he’s leaning in a bit too close, the way his eyes wander over your chest like he has any right to look at you like that.

Rafe’s jaw clenches as he watches, his grip tightening around the bottle in his hand. He doesn’t even realize he’s walking towards you until he’s already there, sliding between you and the guy with a possessiveness that makes the other guy take a cautious step back.

“Hey, babe,” Rafe says, his voice smooth as silk as he slides an arm around your waist, pulling you against him.

You blink up at him, a little startled but then grinning, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Hi, Rafey!”

He internally smiles at the nickname. He despises it, but loves it when it’s coming from your mouth.

The guy who had been talking to you shuffles awkwardly, clearly sensing the tension radiating off Rafe. He mumbles some excuse and quickly disappears into the crowd, leaving you two alone.

Rafe watches him go with narrowed eyes before turning his attention back to you. “What were you talking to him about?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” you say with a shrug, clearly not giving it much thought. “He was just asking about the party, I think.”

Rafe frowns. “You think?”

You tilt your head, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “I wasn’t really paying attention.”

Rafe can’t help but chuckle, shaking his head. “You’re something else, you know that?”

You giggle, leaning your head against his chest. “I know.”

But then your smile fades as you look up at him, your eyes wide and sincere. “Rafe, why did you come over here? You seemed mad.”

Rafe’s expression softens as he looks down at you. You really have no idea, do you? How could you be so completely oblivious to the effect you have on him? To how much it drives him crazy to see you with someone else, even if it’s just a harmless conversation.

“I didn’t like the way he was looking at you,” Rafe admits, his voice low.

You blink, your brows furrowing in confusion. “Looking at me?”

“Yeah,” Rafe says, his grip on your waist tightening slightly. “Like he thought he had a chance.”

“Oh,” you say softly, biting your lip as if you’re trying to process his words.

Rafe sighs, his free hand coming up to gently cup your cheek. “I just…I don’t like other guys around you, baby. Not like that.”

Your confusion melts away, replaced by a soft smile that makes Rafe’s heart skip a beat. “Aw, I don’t want anyone else, Rafey. Just you.”

His breath catches in his throat at your words. Do you even realize what you’re saying? What that means? But before he can ask, you’re leaning up on your tiptoes, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that makes the rest of the room disappear.

Your kisses are sweet, gentle, and taste like the fruity drink you had been sipping on earlier. Rafe responds instantly, his arm tightening around your waist as he deepens the kiss, his hand sliding up to tangle in your hair.

The kiss is nothing new. You’ve kissed before. Innocent, playful kisses that friends sometimes share. But this…this feels different. There’s an intensity behind it, a hunger that neither of you can deny.

When you finally pull away, both of you are breathless, your foreheads resting against each other.

“You’re mine, Y/n,” Rafe whispers, his voice thick with emotion.

Your eyes flutter open, and you smile softly. “I’ve always been yours, Rafe. You’re my best friend.”

Best friend. The words echo in Rafe’s mind, and for the first time, they don’t feel right. They don’t encompass what he feels for you, what he wants from you. But he doesn’t push it. Not tonight. Not yet.

He presses another kiss to your forehead, pulling you into his arms. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

You don’t argue. You never do when it comes to Rafe. You let him lead you out of the house, away from the noise and the crowd, and into the cool night air. You don’t say much as you walk, but the silence between you is comfortable, familiar.

You end up at Rafe’s house, as you often do. It’s practically your second home, and Ward and Rose don’t mind you crashing there. You have your own spot in his bed, your own drawer in his dresser. It’s just what you do—best friends who are closer than most.

You settle into Rafe’s room, and you immediately make yourself at home, kicking off your pink Playboy heels—that your Rafey bought for you—and flopping onto his bed. Rafe watches you with an affectionate smile, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed.

“You’re really comfortable here, huh?” he teases.

You grin up at him, patting the spot beside you. “Of course! You’re my bestie.”

Rafe rolls his eyes at the term, but he can’t deny the warmth it brings him. He crosses the room and sits down beside you, his hand resting on your thigh. You don’t flinch or pull away; you never do. You just look at him with that same trusting smile you always give him.

“Rafey?” you ask softly, your fingers absentmindedly playing with the hem of your dress.

“Yeah?” he responds, his eyes never leaving your face.

“Do you ever…do you ever think about us doing more stuff?” you ask, your voice hesitant as if you aren’t sure how to phrase the question.

Rafe’s heart skips a beat, but he keeps his voice steady. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, like…we kiss and stuff. And we’re always together. People ask me all the time if we’re dating, and I always say no, but…” You trail off, your brows furrowing as you try to find the right words.

“But?” Rafe prompts, his hand moving up to gently squeeze your knee.

You bite your lip, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes. “But we never had sex…”

Rafe feels like the wind has been knocked out of him. He’s always tried to keep his feelings for you in check, convincing himself that your friendship is enough. But hearing you say those words, hearing you admit that you wouldn’t mind being more…he can’t hold back anymore.

"Baby..." Rafe begins, his voice rough with emotion as he searches your eyes for any sign of hesitation. But there's nothing there-only that familiar trust and a hint of something more, something deeper.

You wait patiently for him to speak, your heart pounding in your chest, feeling like it might explode with anticipation.

The room feels smaller, more intimate, and the air between you crackles with tension that's been building for far too long.

Rate's hand moves from your knee to your face, his thumb gently brushing across your cheek. "Are you sure?" he asks, his voice almost a whisper. "Are you sure you want this?"

You lean into his touch, nodding without a second thought. "I'm sure, Rafe. I've never been more sure of anything."

His heart swells at your words, and any doubt that's been lingering in the back of his mind dissipates. You're not just saying this-you mean it. You've always been honest with him, even when it's been hard. And right now, the honesty in your eyes, in your voice, is unmistakable.

Rafe leans in slowly, giving you one last chance to change your mind, but you don't. You close the distance between you, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that's softer, more tender than any of the ones you've shared before. There's no rush, no urgency—just the two of you, finally giving in to the feelings you've both been suppressing for so long.

He deepens the kiss, his hands sliding down your back to pull you closer, as if he can't bear to be even a millimeter away from you.

You respond eagerly, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pour everything you have into this moment, into him.

You've kissed Rafe before, but this... this is different. It's more intense, more passionate. It feels like you're crossing a line that you can never come back from, but you don't care. You want to cross it-you want to dive headfirst into whatever this is, whatever it could be.

When you finally pull away, both of you are breathless, your foreheads resting against each other as you try to catch your breath. The world outside his room feels a million miles away, and all you can focus on is the way his fingers trail up and down your spine, the warmth of his breath against your skin.

"Y/n," Rafe murmurs, his voice laced with emotion. "I've wanted this for so long. I didn't know if you felt the same."

You open your eyes, meeting his gaze with a softness that makes his heart ache. "I didn't realize it at first," you admit. "But now...l can't imagine being with anyone else, Rafe. I only want you."

His grip on you tightens, and he presses a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there as if he's trying to memorize the feel of you.

"You don't know how happy that makes me," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion.

You smile, a warmth spreading through your chest at his words. "Then be happy, Rafe. Because I'm not going anywhere."

Rate pulls back slightly, his eyes searching yours, as if he's making sure this isn't some kind of dream. When he's satisfied that you're really here, really his, he smiles—a genuine, heartfelt smile that you don't see from him often enough.

"You're mine," he says, his voice firm, possessive.

You nod, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "I've always been yours, Rafe. You're my best friend."

The words hang in the air between you, and for a moment, Rafe's smile falters. Best friend. The title doesn't feel right anymore-not after everything that's just happened. But he doesn't correct you. Instead, he pulls you into his arms, holding you close as if he's afraid you might slip away.

"You mean more to me than that," he murmurs into your hair.

You pull back slightly, looking up at him with wide eyes. "What do you mean?"

Rate hesitates for a moment, but then he decides there's no point in holding back anymore. You've always been his—he just never let himself believe it could be real.

"I mean, you're everything to me, Y/n," he confesses, his voice low and sincere. "You're not just my best friend. You're... the person I want to be with. The only person I can see myself with."

Your breath catches in your throat at his words, and for a moment, you're speechless. You've always known Rafe cared about you-he's shown it in a million different ways. But hearing him say it out loud, hearing him admit that he wants to be with you, makes your heart swell with an overwhelming sense of love and belonging.

"Rafe..." you start, but he cuts you off with another kiss, this one more urgent, more desperate, as if he's trying to convey everything he feels for you in that single moment.

You respond eagerly, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer, as if you're afraid to let him go.

The kiss deepens, and soon Rafe is hovering over you, his hands roaming your body as if he's trying to memorize every inch of you.

You let out a soft moan as his lips move to your neck, kissing and sucking at the sensitive skin there, trying to mark you. The sound drives him wild, and he can't help but smile against your skin as he continues his ministrations.

"Rafey," you breathe out, your voice laced with need. "I need you."

He pulls back slightly, his eyes dark with desire as he looks down at you. "Are you sure?" he asks, his voice rough with emotion.

You nod, your hands gripping his shoulders as if you're afraid he might pull away. "I've never been more sure of anything."

That's all the confirmation Rafe needs. He leans down to capture your lips in another heated kiss and for the first time, you feel like you're exactly where you're supposed to be. In Rafe's arms, with his lips on yours, with the knowledge that he's yours and you're his.

The kiss deepens, becoming more urgent and demanding, as Rafe's hands roam over your body. There's a fire between you now, an unspoken understanding that tonight is different—that tonight, you're both finally giving in to what you've wanted for so long.

Rafe's hand moves to the hem of your dress, his fingers brushing against your bare thigh. The sensation sends a shiver up your spine, and you arch into him, craving more. He takes the hint, his fingers slipping under the fabric, slowly sliding up your thigh until they reach your hips.

You let out a soft gasp as he grips your hips, pulling you closer until your bodies are pressed together, every inch of you touching. You can feel the heat radiating off of him, the hard planes of his chest against your softer curves. It's intoxicating, the way he's looking at you, as if you're the only thing that matters in the world.

"Rafe..." you breathe out, your voice trembling with a mixture of nerves and excitement.

"Shh," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear, sending another wave of shivers through you. "I've got you, Y/n. I promise."

There's a tenderness in his voice, a promise of care and love that reassures you, calms the nerves fluttering in your stomach. You trust him—of course, you do. He's Rafe, your best friend, the one person who's always been there for you. And now, he's here for you in a way that's even more intimate, more special.

Rafe's hands move to the back of your dress, his fingers deftly finding the zipper. He pauses for a moment, looking into your eyes as if asking for permission one last time. You give him a small nod, and he slowly pulls the zipper down, the sound filling the quiet room.

The dress loosens around you, and with a gentle tug, Rafe pulls it down your shoulders, revealing more of your skin to his hungry gaze. His eyes darken with desire as he takes it off your body, throwing, leaving you lying before him in nothing but your pink lace underwear.

Rafe's breath catches in his throat as he takes you in, his eyes raking over every inch of your exposed skin. "You're so beautiful," he whispers, his voice full of awe.

A blush creeps up your neck, and you bite your lip, feeling suddenly shy under his intense gaze. But Rafe quickly dispels any insecurities you might have by stepping closer, his hands cupping your face as he kisses you again, this time slower, more deliberate.

You melt into the kiss, your hands sliding up his chest, feeling the muscles beneath his shirt. You tug at the fabric, wanting it off, needing to feel his skin against yours. Rate seems to read your mind, because he pulls away just long enough to yank his shirt over his head, tossing it aside carelessly.

Your breath hitches at the sight of him, his toned chest and defined abs on full display.

You've seen him shirtless before, but this is different—this time, he's yours to touch, to explore. And you waste no time, running your hands over his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips.

Rafe groans softly at your touch, his hands moving to your waist as he pulls you against him. The feel of your bare skin against his sends a jolt of electricity through both of you, and before you know it, his lips are trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck.

You moan softly, tilting your head to give him better access, your hand gripping the back of his neck as you hold him close. The sensations are overwhelming, each kiss sending a wave of pleasure through you, making your body hum with anticipation.

Rafe's kisses move lower, down your collarbone and over the swell of your big tits, his hands sliding up your sides to gently cup them. He looks up at you, his eyes dark with desire, as if silently asking if this is okay.

You nod, your breath coming in short gasps as you watch him, your heart pounding in your chest. Rafe leans down, pressing a kiss to the center of your chest before moving to one of your breasts, his lips closing around your hard nipple as his hand strokes the other.

You gasp, your back arching off the bed as a wave of pleasure washes over you. The sensation is new, intense, and it sends a thrill through your entire body.

Rafe's mouth is hot and insistent, his tongue flicking over your sensitive skin, driving you wild with every touch.

"Daddy," you moan, your voice trembling with need as you cling to him, your long nails digging into his shoulders.

He responds with a low growl, his free hand sliding down your body, brushing over your stomach and down to the waistband of your underwear. His fingers tease the edge of the fabric, and you can feel the heat pooling between your thighs, your body aching for more.

Rafe pulls back slightly, his eyes locking with yours as he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your underwear. "Is this okay?" he asks, his voice thick with emotion.

You nod, too overwhelmed to form words, your heart racing with anticipation. Rafe leans down to kiss you again, his lips soft and gentle against yours as he slowly slides your underwear down your legs, leaving you completely bare beneath him.

He pulls back to look at you, his eyes filled with awe and reverence as he takes you in. "You're perfect," he murmurs, his voice full of emotion as he runs his hands over your thighs, spreading them gently to make room for himself.

Your breath hitches as Rafe settles between your legs, his hands gripping your hips as he lowers himself down, his mouth hovering just above your core. He looks up at you one last time, his eyes asking for permission, for confirmation that this is what you want.

You nod, your body trembling with anticipation as you watch him, your breath coming in short gasps. And then, with a slow, deliberate movement, Rafe leans down and presses a kiss to your sensitive clit, his tongue flicking out to taste you.

The sensation is overwhelming, a surge of pleasure that has you moaning his name, your fingers gripping the sheets as you arch off the bed. Rafe's mouth is hot and insistent, his tongue working in slow, deliberate movements that drive you wild with every flick and swirl.

He's slow, methodical, taking his time to explore every inch of you, to learn what makes you moan, what makes your body tremble beneath him. And you respond eagerly, your body reacting to every touch, every kiss, your mind lost in the haze of pleasure that he's creating.

"Daddy, please," you moan, your voice trembling as you reach down to tangle your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer.

Rafe growls in response, the sound vibrating against your skin as he increases the pace, his tongue moving faster, his lips closing around your most sensitive spot as he sucks gently. The sensation sends you over the edge, and with a cry of his name, you come undone beneath him, your body trembling with the force of your orgasm.

He doesn't stop, doesn't pull away, instead continuing to work you through your release, his hands holding you steady as your body shakes with pleasure. When you finally come down from the high, your breath coming in short, gasping pants, Rafe pulls back, a satisfied smile on his lips as he crawls back up your body.

He kisses you, and you can taste yourself on his lips, the sensation sending another wave of desire through you. But Rafe is patient, his kisses slow and deliberate, his hands gentle as they caress your sides, your hips, your thighs.

"You okay?" he asks softly, his voice full of concern as he looks down at you, his thumb brushing over your cheek.

You nod, smiling up at him, your heart swelling with love and affection. "I'm perfect," you whisper, your voice full of emotion as you reach up to cup his face, pulling him down for another kiss.

The kiss quickly grows more heated, more desperate, and soon you're tugging at Rafe's pants, your hands eager to feel all of him, to have him as close as possible. He groans against your lips, his hands fumbling with the waistband of his pants as he helps you, quickly shedding the last of his clothing.

When his cock is finally free, he presses his body against yours, his skin hot and firm against your softer curves. The feel of him, hard and ready against your thigh, sends a thrill of anticipation through you, and you instinctively spread your legs, inviting him closer.

Rafe pulls back slightly, his eyes locking with yours as he positions himself at your entrance. "You sure, baby?" he asks, his voice trembling with emotion as he holds himself above you, his breath coming in short gasps.

You nod, your eyes wide and trusting as you look up at him, your heart pounding in your chest. "I'm sure, Rafe. I want this. I want you."

He smiles, a soft, loving smile that makes your heart skip a beat, and then, with a slow, deliberate movement, he pushes into your cunt, filling you completely.

The sensation is overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and a slight sting as your body adjusts to his size. You gasp, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you cling to him, your breath coming in short pants. Rafe stills, giving you time to adjust, his lips pressing gentle kisses to your neck, your shoulders, your face.

“You okay?” he murmurs against your skin, his voice full of concern.

You nod, smiling up at him as you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. “I’m okay, Rafe. Just…move.”

He nods, his eyes dark with desire as he slowly begins to move, his hips rolling in a slow, deliberate rhythm that has you moaning his name, your body responding eagerly to every thrust. The pleasure quickly builds, the slight sting fading away, replaced by a deep, intense pleasure that has you arching into him, your nails digging into his back as you cling to him.

“Rafe,” you moan, your voice trembling with pleasure as he increases the pace, his hips snapping against yours with a newfound urgency.

He groans in response, his breath hot and ragged against your skin as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his hands gripping your hips as he drives into you with a desperation that matches your own. The sound of skin against skin fills the room, mingling with the sounds of your moans and his grunts, creating a symphony of pleasure that drives you both to the brink.

You can feel the tension building, the pleasure coiling tightly in your belly, and you know you’re close. Rafe seems to sense it too, because he shifts slightly, angling his hips just right, hitting that sweet spot inside you that has you crying out his name, your body trembling with the force of your approaching orgasm.

“Come for me, Y/n,” Rafe murmurs against your skin, his voice rough with desire. “I want to feel you come around me.”

His words send you over the edge, and with a cry of his name, you come undone, your body shaking with the force of your orgasm. The pleasure is intense, overwhelming, and you cling to Rafe as you ride out the waves, your breath coming in short, gasping pants.

Rafe follows you over the edge moments later, his body tensing as he groans your name, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he finds his release, his body shuddering with the force of it and comes inside you.

For a moment, the world fades away, and there’s nothing but the two of you, tangled together in a mess of limbs and sheets, your bodies pressed together as you come down from the high. Rafe collapses on top of you, his weight comforting as he buries his face in your neck, his breath hot and ragged against your skin.

You wrap your arms around him, holding him close as you both catch your breath, your hearts pounding in sync. The room is quiet now, the only sound the soft rustle of sheets as you shift slightly, your bodies still pressed together.

After a few moments, Rafe lifts his head, looking down at you with a soft, loving smile that makes your heart swell with affection. He brushes a strand of hair away from your face, his fingers gentle as he caresses your cheek.

“You’re amazing,” he murmurs, his voice full of emotion.

You smile up at him, your heart overflowing with love. “So are you,” you whisper, reaching up to pull him down for a gentle kiss.

The kiss is slow and tender, a promise of more to come, a promise that this is only the beginning. Because now that you've crossed that line, there's no going back. But you wouldn't want to go back, not after feeling what it's like to be with Rafe like this, to be his completely.

When the kiss finally ends, Rafe rolls onto his side, pulling you into his arms. You snuggle into his chest, your head resting on his shoulder as you close your eyes, feeling a sense of peace that you've never felt before.

"I love you, Y/n," Rafe murmurs, his voice soft and full of emotion as he presses a kiss to the top of your head.

Your heart skips a beat at his words, and you look up at him, your eyes wide with surprise and joy. "I love you too, Rafe," you whisper, your voice trembling with emotion.

He smiles, a genuine, heartfelt smile that makes your heart flutter, and pulls you closer, holding you tightly against him as if he's afraid to let you go.

"You're mine," he murmurs, his voice firm and possessive.

You smile, snuggling into his chest as you close your eyes, feeling completely content in his arms. "I've always been yours, Rafey," you whisper, your voice full of love and affection. "And I always will be."

You tilt your head up to look at Rafe, a soft smile on your lips as you watch him sleep. His features are relaxed, a small smile playing on his lips even in his sleep. You can't help but reach out to brush a strand of hair away from his forehead, your heart swelling with affection.

As if sensing your touch, Rafe stirs, his eyes fluttering open to find you watching him. He smiles sleepily, pulling you closer as he presses a kiss to your forehead.

You smile back, snuggling into his chest. "Good morning."

There's a comfortable silence between you, the kind that only comes from years of knowing each other inside and out. You both lie there, basking in the warmth of each other's presence, neither of you in any hurry to get up.

But eventually, Rafe speaks up, his voice hesitant. "Y/n?"

"Yeah?" you reply, your head resting on his chest as you listen to the steady beat of his heart.

"About last night.." he starts, but you cut him off with a kiss, your lips capturing his in a slow, lingering kiss that leaves him breathless.

"Don't overthink it," you murmur against his lips. "It was perfect."

Rafe smiles, a sense of relief washing over him as he pulls you closer. "Yeah, it was," he agrees, his voice full of emotion.

You both fall silent again, but this time, there's a sense of contentment between you. Because no matter what happens next, you know that you've crossed that line, and there's no going back. But that's okay, because being with Rafe feels right. It feels like you've finally found where you belong.

As the morning light filters through the curtains, you realize that this is only the beginning. You and Rafe have always been inseparable, but now... now you're something more. And you wouldn't have it any other way.

Because with Rafe by your side, you know you can face anything. Together.

A/N: yall i tried my best i swearrr!!!! i really like the bimbocore aesthetic and i feel like i could make a whole series with rafe and his bimbo gf. like blurbs and fics and stuff. tell me if you want to see more of rafe x bimbo!reader in the future. love uu💗

ps: the dividers are from @anitalenia