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rafayelxsylusho · 11 days ago

Note

Hello ♥️ I love your fics so much!! 😩 I don’t know if you take requests…but if you do could I request the LADS guys reacting to seeing you without panties on under your dress/skirt? 😈

Ohhhh I really liked this idea.

I'll work on the other three today and post them as soon as I can.

Enjoy!!!

Calebxreader

Rafayelxreader

TW:SMUT

How do the LADS men react when they see you without panties under your skirt/dress Part 1 (Caleb)(Rafayel)

Part 2 (Sylus) Here

Caleb's gaze drifts over to you as you sit across from him at the dinner table, a smile playing on his lips. The aroma of your favorite meal, freshly cooked by his own hands, wafts through the air between you.

"You know, I remember when you used to beg me to make this every week, you'd come running into the kitchen, skipping and laughing, and throw your arms around me until I agreed." His eyes glimmer with a distant memory, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "You were so cute back then, so full of life and energy. I could never say no to you."

"You still can't" said Gran, who sits beside him, with a knowing smile. Her eyes crinkle at the corners as she takes a sip of her drink, setting the glass down gently on the white tablecloth.

"You're right, Gran," Caleb agrees, turning his attention back to you. His gaze is intense, a mix of fondness and something darker, more possessive. "I still can't say no to her. Never could."

He picks up his fork to start eating but accidentally pushes his spoon to the floor with his elbow. He leans down, his chair scraping softly against the hardwood floor as he bends to retrieve the fallen spoon under the table. His eyes can't help but wander over your legs. They trail up your calves, over your knees, and come to a sharp halt when he notices something that makes his heart skip a beat. Or rather, the lack of something. His eyes linger for a moment, drinking in the expanse of smooth, tanned thigh that's been revealed by your slightly spread legs.

Straightening up, he sets the spoon on the table, his movements deliberate and slow. There's a new tension in the set of his shoulders, a coiled energy that wasn't there before. As he takes his seat once more, he doesn't meet your eyes right away. Instead, he busies himself with his own plate, cutting into the tender meat with precise, almost angry strokes. But as he lifts his fork to his mouth, his gaze finally meets yours. There's a depth of emotion swirling in those violet eyes, feelings he can barely contain. Desire, possessiveness, a desperate longing that borders on obsession. It's all there, laid bare for you to see.

His grip tightens on the fork, knuckles turning white as he fights the sudden, overwhelming urge to toss it aside. To lean across the table, to take your face in his hands...and claim your mouth with his own.

Caleb's eyes darken with lust as he watches the sensual movement of your throat as you swallow. The sound of your moan, sweet and breathy makes his heart beat against his ribs like a caged animal desperate to break free. "Does it taste as good as you remember? "I made it just the way you like it," he murmurs, leaning forward slightly. "I remember everything about what you like, pipsqueak." His tone is teasing, but there's also something darker on the way he says your old nickname.

"It's delicious Caleb" said Gran, before you had a chance to answer him, breaking the tension between you.

He sits back in his chair, trying to compose himself even as his heart continues to race. He can't let Gran see the true depths of his feelings, the all consuming love and lust that threatens to swallow him whole.

"That's great, Gran," he says, his voice only slightly strained. "I'm glad you both like it." He forces a smile, but it doesn't reach his eyes. Those violet eyes remain focused on you, even as he tries to engage in the conversation.

"Remember when you and Y/n used to fight over the last piece of meat?" Gran asks, a fond smile on her face. "You two were always so competitive, especially when it came to food."

Caleb's smile tightens "Yeah," he says, his eyes never leaving yours. "I always made sure she got the last piece. No matter what." His tone is light, but there's another meaning beneath the words. A promise.

You look over at Gran, a bright smile on your face when you say "Gran, I'm meeting up with a friend tonight. We had plans to go out since friday" You stand up, gathering your dirty dishes and silverware. "I'll just put these in the kitchen and then I should get ready."

Caleb watches, his eyes glued to your every move as you carry your dishes to the kitchen. The sway of your hips, the gentle bounce of your hair with each step...it's all seared into his mind.

He forces himself to turn to Gran, to keep up the pretense of a normal conversation. But his mind is elsewhere, already conjuring up a dozen ways he could stop you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Caleb stands in your doorway, his tall frame filling the space. His hair is still slightly damp from a recent shower. His arms are crossed over his broad chest as he watches you get ready. His eyes follow your every movement, from the way you brush your long black hair, to the quick application of makeup.

"Did you forget," he says, his voice low and slightly accusatory, "that you had to do the dishes and I had to do the cooking?"

He steps into your room, the door clicking shut behind him with a soft, sound. The space suddenly feels smaller, the air thicker, with his presence dominating every inch of it. He reaches out and plucks the hairbrush from your hand, his fingers brushing against yours. "Here," he says softly, holding the brush. "Let me help you finish getting ready."

You look up at Caleb, a flicker of annoyance in your eyes as you take the hairbrush from his hand. "I didn't forget," you say, your voice a bit sharp. "I just got distracted. Besides, I thought you had more important things to do than keep track of whose turn it is to do the dishes." You turn back to the mirror, running the brush through your hair with more force than necessary. "And I didn't ask for your help," you add, "I think I can handle getting ready on my own."

Caleb watches as you finish brushing your hair, his eyes never leaving your reflection in the mirror. He sees the flicker of irritation in your gaze, hears the sharpness in your tone. As you turn to leave, he clears his throat, his voice a low rumble that stops you in your tracks. "You're forgetting something, pipsqueak," he says, a hint of that old teasing to his tone. But there's something darker, something that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

He takes two long strides towards you, closing the distance between your bodies in an instant. His large hands find your waist, strong fingers splaying possessively over the curve of your hips. He pulls you back against his chest, your body molding to the hard planes of his own like two puzzle pieces clicking into place.

In the mirror, your eyes meet, locking in a charged gaze. You feel his hands fist the fabric of your skirt. He pulls and tugs, the skirt riding higher and higher on your thighs with each yank of his wrists. The cool air of the room brushes against the newly exposed skin, sending a shiver racing up your spine.

"Caleb..." you protest, your voice a mortified whisper as you feel your skirt being hiked up past your thighs. But he doesn't listen, his eyes never leaving yours in the mirror as he exposes you completely.

Your blush deepens as you watch, uncomfortably aroused, as he finally reaches the hem of your skirt. The fabric pools around your waist, leaving your bare cunt on full display in the reflection. The sight of your glistening folds, makes your heart race and your core clench.

Caleb's breath grows heavier, his chest rising and falling more rapidly against your back. His grip on your hips tightens, fingers digging into your flesh as he holds you in place, trapping you against him. His eyes, dark and hungry, rove over your reflection, taking in every intimate detail.

"Were you really planning on going out like this?" he asks, "Or were you just trying to tease me...again?" His fingers flex, digging into your hipbones hard. He leans in closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. "I've told you before, pipsqueak. If you want something...ask for it."

His eyes bore into yours in the mirror, a intensity burning in their violet depths. Ask me, they seem to say. Ask me to touch you to taste you, to claim you again. Beg me to fuck you until you can't walk straight.

He watches as your lips part, your breath coming in short, sharp pants. He waits, his heart pounding in his chest as he anticipates your response. Say it, he thinks. Say you want me. Say you need me. Beg me to touch you like I've been dying to.

"I...I..." you stammer, your voice barely above a whisper. He smirks, a curve to his lips as he watches you struggle to form words. So cute, so innocent, he thinks. He leans in closer, his teeth nipping your ear as he whispers, "Go on, pipsqueak. Say it."

"Caleb...please" you whimper, your voice barely audible but dripping with desperate need. It's all the encouragement he needs. Caleb reaches down and slowly lowers the zipper of your skirt and it slides down your legs until it pools at your feet, leaving you bare from the waist down. And just as quickly, Caleb makes short work of his own clothes. His shirt joins your skirt on the floor, followed by his jeans and underwear. His cock springs free, thick and hard and already leaking at the tip.

Before you can do anything he takes your hand, his fingers curling around yours as he leads you to the chair where you sat just moments ago. He sits down, his bare skin warming the cool leather, and pulls you to stand between his spread thighs. The heat of his body envelops you, making your own skin prickle with awareness.

He looks up at you, his eyes glinting with a dark, possessive light as he takes in your reflection . His hands come to rest on your hips, fingers splaying over the bare flesh of your ass as he holds you in place. Mine, his eyes seem to say as they rove over your naked form.

"Look at you," he murmurs, his voice a sensual rumble. "So fucking beautiful. And all mine." His hands slide around to your front, one coming to rest low on your belly while the other cups your mound possessively. "This is what you do to me, baby. This is what you make me want."

Caleb moves his hands to grip your hips once again as he slowly lowers you onto his lap. His cock, hard and thick, slides between your folds, the thick head nudging against your entrance. You feel the heat of him, the pulsing of his flesh against your most intimate place, and it makes your head swim with need.

A moan escapes your lips as he settles you fully in his lap, his thick shaft nestled snugly between your thighs. Your back arches, pressing your breasts out as you throw your head back against his shoulder. Caleb's lips find your neck, pressing hot kisses to the sensitive skin as his hands roam your curves.

"Fuck, baby," he groans against your neck, his hips rocking up slightly to grind his cock against your dripping slit. "You feel so fucking good. So hot and wet and ready for me."

Caleb's hands slide up your sides, his fingers skimming over your skin until they reach the hem of your shirt. Without pausing, he tugs it upwards, exposing your flat stomach and the cute little belly button that sits above your cunt but he doesn't stop there, he keeps going, pulling the shirt and your bra up and over your breasts until they spring free, bouncing slightly from the sudden release. Your tits, perfect handfuls are now on full display in the mirror. The cool air of the room makes your nipples tighten and pucker, begging for attention. His hands cup the soft mounds, his fingers sinking into the pliant flesh as he squeezes and kneads. His thumbs brush over your nipples, teasing the sensitive peaks until they're stiff peaks.

"Fuck, look at these perfect tits," Caleb groans, watching your reflection as he plays with your breasts. "They're even more gorgeous than I remember. I can't wait to get my mouth on them, to suck and bite and mark your beautiful skin." He rolls your nipples between his fingers, pinching and tugging on the sensitive buds as he rocks his hips up against you. His cock slides between your folds once again.

"Oh god", you whimper, feeling your pussy clench and flutter around nothing. "Oh fuck, Caleb" Your hips start to move on their own, grinding down against the hard length of him as your body craves more stimulation. The mirror reflects your desperation, your tits bouncing in his hands as he teases and pleases you.

Caleb's voice is a commanding growl in your ear. "Lift your hips, baby. Just a little bit, that's it." You feel his fingers around your throat, his large hand spanning the delicate column of your neck. His other hand slides down your body, over the soft swell of your belly, to wrap around your thigh. He squeezes the supple flesh, his fingers sinking in as he spreads your leg wider, opening you up to him. You feel the cool air against your dripping core, making you shiver.

Caleb takes advantage of your new position to line himself up with your entrance. The thick head of his cock nudges against your folds, slipping between them to catch on your hole. You feel the heat of him, the hard, throbbing flesh pulsing with need.

"Watch, baby," Caleb commands, "Watch as I claim this pretty little cunt. Watch as I make this pretty pussy mine."

He starts to push forward, his hips rocking up as he sinks into you inch by inch. The mirror allows you to see every moment, every second of your joining. You watch, as your body stretches around his thick cock, your walls fluttering and clenching as they struggle to accommodate his size. Caleb's eyes bore into yours, his gaze intense and consuming. Mine he thinks, watching your expression morph with pleasure. This is what you were made for, baby. To take my cock, to milk it with this greedy little cunt. His hand tightens around your throat, not enough to cut off air, but enough to make you feel owned, claimed, possessed.

Caleb starts to thrust up into you, his hips rocking and rolling as he drives his thick cock deeper and deeper into your tight, clenching heat. And you find yourself meeting his thrusts, your own hips rolling as you take him in. The mirror shows you every detail of his thick cock disappearing between your thighs, only to reappear coated in your arousal.

Caleb keeps your leg spread wide, his hand gripping your thigh hard enough to leave finger shaped bruises. He holds you open, keeping you in place as he fucks into you with deep, powerful strokes. The other hand remains wrapped around your throat, his thumb pressing lightly against your racing pulse.

"Fuck baby," Caleb groans, his voice ragged and rough with lust. "Your pussy feels so fucking good. So hot and tight and perfect." He punctuates each word with a sharp thrust, his pelvis slamming against you as he bottoms out inside you. You can see it, see the way your body swallows him up, see the thick ring of milky white arousal forming at the base of his shaft where he's stretching you open. It's filthy, it's obscene, but it's so fucking hot.

His thrusts become more urgent, more insistent, as he chases his own release. The mirror reflects your bouncing tits, the flesh jiggling and swaying with each powerful surge of his hips. Your mouth is open, soft gasps and whimpers spilling from your lips as you lose yourself in the sensation.

Caleb's eyes are glued to your reflection, watching your every reaction. He sees the way your head lolls back, your eyes glazed over with lust. He sees the string of drool leaking from the corner of your mouth. "Fuck, look at you," a surge of pride and possessiveness rushing through his veins. "Look at how much you love taking my cock."

"Tell me, baby, didn't you wear any panties today, just to tease me? To make me want to bend you over and fuck this pussy raw?" Caleb grins wickedly as you nod, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps. "That's my girl" he says, feeling a thrill of satisfaction at the knowledge that you deliberately left your pussy bare and exposed, just for him. "Such a naughty little tease, getting me all worked up."

"Keep your legs open for me, baby," Caleb orders, his hand squeezing your thigh harder as he spreads you wider. "I want to watch this pretty cunt as I make you come all over my cock." Then you hear him spit, the cool wetness drips down between the valley of your breasts, trailing down your stomach before dripping onto your pussy. Without wasting a second, Caleb smears the spit around your clit, using it as lubricant. His fingers circle the sensitive nub, rubbing tight, quick circles as he feels your body tensing. Your clit swells under his touch, peeking out from beneath its hood as he strokes and teases and pleasures you. He keeps rubbing, as his hips never stop their rhythm. The mirror shows your body shaking, your tits bouncing, your mouth open in a silent scream as he drives you closer and closer to the edge. Caleb feels your scream building, hears the way your breath hitches and catches in your throat. In a flash, he brings the hand that was on your throat up to cover your mouth, silencing your cries before they can escape and alert Gran of your activities.

But then your teeth sink into the flesh of his palm, biting down hard enough to make him hiss in pained surprise. The sudden, sharp sensation sends a jolt of adrenaline through his body, pushing him over the precipice. Your orgasm crashes over you, your body seizing and shaking as ecstasy whites out your mind. Your cunt clamps down around his cock, walls rippling and fluttering as they try to milk him for all he's worth.

The feeling of your pussy spasming around him, combined with the throbbing ache of your bite,its too much for Caleb. With a moan that he muffles against your hair, he hilts himself inside you and lets go. Thick, hot ropes of cum paint your insides as Caleb's cock pulses and throbs. His hips jerk and stutter, spurting his seed deep inside your cunt as he fills you with his essence. It seems to go on forever, wave after wave of thick, sticky cum pumping into your hole as Caleb marks you, claims you, makes you his.

As the intense waves of your shared orgasms start to fade, you feel Caleb's lips press soft kisses along the column of your neck. His touch is gentle now, almost reverent.

You can feel the thick mix of your combined releases starting to leak out around where you're joined, your over sensitive flesh twitching at the sensation. Caleb's fingers find the source of the dripping wetness, gathering some of the pearly essence on his fingertips.

"Open up, baby," Caleb whispers as he removes his hand from your mouth. "Taste us. Taste what we made together." His fingers press against your lower lip, smearing the sticky fluid across the soft flesh. Almost unconsciously, you part your lips, allowing him access to your mouth. Caleb takes advantage, slipping his finger past your lips to rest on your tongue. The taste of your combined releases floods your senses, the slightly bitter, salty flavor of his cum mixed with the sweeter, tangier essence of your arousal. It's an intoxicating combination that makes your head swim.

"Fuck, that's so hot," Caleb groans, watching your face intently as you suck on his finger. "Seeing you taste our cum, taste the proof of how good we are together."

He slips out of you making you flinch "You better get ready now, pipsqueak, you don't want to be late for whatever plans you have today. But..." His hand tightens in your hair, tugging lighly.

"...when you come back home to me, I'll be waiting. I'll be here, ready to pick up right where we left off." Caleb's other hand slides down to grip your hip possessively, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh. "We only have a few days together, after all. And I plan to make every single second count."

Rafayel's hands gripped the steering wheel tighter as he navigated through the crowded city streets, slower than necessary. The setting sun painted the sky in hues of orange and pink.

"You know," he began, voice laced with a touch of impatience but also a hint of something softer, "you could have just stayed home and I would have understood" His finger tapped an erratic rhythm against the wheel, and he sighed. "I just...I wish we had more time together, just the two of us. Without all this..." He waved a hand vaguely at the windshield, as if gesturing to the world beyond the car.

"Tell you what cutie," he said, a mischievous glint appearing in his eyes "if you give me a good enough reason, we can turn around right now. Leave all this nonsense behind and find somewhere... more private."

His lips curved into a playful smirk, a silent invitation hanging in the air between you. The car rolled to a stop at a red light, and Rafayel cocked his head to the side, one eyebrow raised in question. Waiting. Always waiting for your response.

"Nooooo, you actually need to show up this time Rafayel," you say as you looked inside your purse for your lipstick.

"I know, I know," he muttered, more to himself than to you. "You're right, of course. I can't just...skip it." He trailed off, jaw clenched tight.

The light turned green, and Rafayel pressed down on the accelerator, the car lurching forward. He gripped the wheel tighter. "I just...I hate all the pretension. The fake smiles, the insincere compliments..." He shook his head, a look of distaste on his handsome face. "I'd rather spend the time with you, not stuck in some stuffy room filled with people I don't know."

"Have you seen my lipstick? I swear I left it here the last time I used it." You asked still looking through your purse

"Yes, it's back there somewhere..." he murmured. Rafayel watched as you hastily unbuckled your seatbelt, leaning over to rummage through the backseat. He couldn't help but let his gaze linger on the tantalizing curve of your back. Suddenly, you let out a small 'ah!' of triumph and straightened up, holding the tube of lipstick. In doing so, you lose balance for a moment. His eyes widened as he noticed your dress riding up, revealing the tantalizing sight of your bare skin above the seat of your panties... except there were no panties. His foot slipped off the accelerator, the car momentarily slowing.

For a moment, he forgot about the traffic, the show, everything. The world narrowed down to the sight of your exposed skin, the absence of any fabric that should have been there. He swallowed hard, a wave of heat coursed through him, and he gripped the steering wheel tighter to stop his hand from reaching out to touch. He wanted to trail his fingers up the smooth skin of your thigh, to feel the warmth beneath his palm.

"Cutie..." he breathed out, voice low and rough with sudden desire. He tore his gaze away from the tempting view, forcing himself to focus on the road. But he couldn't unsee the image burned into his mind.

Rafayel took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure as he watched you sit back down and apply your lipstick, oblivious to the effect your little display had on him. He swallowed hard, his pants suddenly feeling far too tight and constricting. He forced his gaze back to the road, but he could still see you in his peripheral vision, the way your lips pursed and pressed together as you applied the color. He imagined tasting that lipstick, tasting you, and shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"Almost there," he muttered, more to himself than to you. He just needed to get through this damn show, and then...then he could focus on indulging in the fantasies running wild through his imagination.

He parked the car in the furthest spot from the gallery entrance, the tires crunching on the gravel as he brought the vehicle to a stop. He turned to you, a grin spreading across his face, eyes glinting with mischief. He reached out, tracing a finger lightly along your jawline, tilting your chin up towards him. His thumb brushed over your newly applied lipstick, smearing the vibrant color slightly.

"Mm, I like this shade," he murmured, voice low and flirtatious. "It reminds me of the color of your lips when I've kissed you breathless...on all of your lips. You see, I remember exactly what you look like, all pink and swollen and glistening, when I've had my face buried between your thighs for hours," his voice was a low, hypnotic rumble. "When I've licked and sucked and teased your clit until you're writhing and begging for release. His hand slid down to your knee, fingers trailing up along your inner thigh, inching higher and higher. His touch was electric, setting off sparks of pleasure that raced through your veins. He watched the blush spread across your cheeks, your thighs clenching together at his bold words. He leaned in closer, his lips hovering just inches from yours. You could feel the heat radiating off his skin, could smell the intoxicating scent of his cologne.His fingers inched higher up your thigh, his touch bold and purposeful. You knew that somehow he had figured out your little secret. The heat in his gaze told you that much.

"Open your legs for me, cutie, let me see those pretty lips again, the ones that are hiding from me right now." His hand slid higher, fingertips grazing the sensitive skin at the apex of your thighs. He didn't touch you directly, not yet, but he was close. So close that you could feel the anticipation building, could feel your core starting to throb with need.

"Come on," he purred, "don't make me wait. I know you're not wearing anything under that dress. I saw a glimpse of paradise back there."

He licked his lips, eyes gleaming with hunger. "Now be a good girl and open up for me, like you did last night when I had you spreading yourself wide open on my tongue."

His breath hitched as you slowly parted your thighs for him, revealing your bare pussy. His eyes darkened with lust at the sight. "Fuck,..." he breathed, voice rough with desire. "Look at you, so pretty and pink and ready for me." His fingers traced teasingly along your slit, not quite touching, just barely grazing your skin.

Rafayel didn't seem to care about the growing crowd in the parking lot. His focus was solely on you, on the sight of your bare cunt glistening in the fading light. He leaned in closer, the leather of his car seat creaking as he pulled it back giving himself more room.

He slid his hands under your thighs, gripping them tightly as he pulled you closer to the edge of your seat. Your dress rode up around your waist, fully exposing your bare, glistening sex to his eyes.

"Wrap your legs around my shoulders," he commanded, settling between your thighs. "I'm going to make you cum so hard, you won't care if the whole fucking world sees." His hands gripped your lower back tightly as he pulled you up and forward, your head resting on the armrest, your legs draping over his shoulders. He could feel the heat radiating off your core, could smell your intoxicating arousal. It made his cock throb and ache with the need to be inside you.

"Fuck, I can smell how much you want this," he groaned, his breath hot against your sensitive flesh. "You're fucking drenched. So wet and ready for me." He leaned in closer, his tongue darting out to take a long, slow lick up your slit. He moaned at the taste of you, his eyes fluttering shut in bliss. "Delicious," he murmured, before diving back in for more.

"Oh god, Rafayel!" you gasped, back arching off the seat as his tongue delved deep into your aching core. Your fingers tangled in his hair, gripping tight as jolts of electricity raced through your body. His hands kneaded the globes of your ass, pulling you harder against his mouth, his tongue plunging in and out of your soaked pussy.

Rafayel glanced up, taking in the now crowded parking lot. The closest car was a few spaces away, but still within clear view of anyone who cared to look in your direction. He could see people already heading towards the gallery entrance but he was too far gone to care. All he could focus on was the intoxicating taste of you on his tongue, the way your body trembled and quaked beneath his touch.

He licks you again, this time slower, he flattens his tongue and licks you from the bottom up, going particularly slow over your pulsating clit. The pressure builds as he finally does what he knows will be your undoing. His tongue swirled up to your clit with the perfect amount of pressure and you loose yourself to him and the thrashing of his tongue on your clit. The coil deep in your stomach curled painfully tight when he sucked your clit into his mouth, a strangled cry escapes you as your body falls over the edge, he plunges two fingers inside of you as you cum, and the bliss is catastrophic. You no longer cared to hold back the scream or to stop your thighs from clamping his head firmly between them.

"That's it, cutie," he praised, voice rough and ragged. "Fucking soak my face. I want everyone to know I'm the one who made you feel this good."

He didn't let up until your body went boneless, slumping back against the seat, chest heaving as you gasped for air. Only then did he pull back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, a smug and thoroughly satisfied grin on his face. Rafayel quickly tugged your dress down, covering your cunt as he fumbled for his phone on the console between the seats. He put it on speaker and dialed Thomas's number, his thumb hovering over the call button.

Thomas picked up on the second ring, his voice filtering through the car's speakers. "Hello? Rafayel? We were starting to think you wouldn't make it to-"

"Hey, listen," Rafayel interrupted, his voice still rough from his exertions. "I need you to do me a favor. I...I won't be able to make it to the show tonight, something came up." He shot a meaningful glance at your flushed appearance, biting back a smirk.

"Tell everyone I apologize for my absence and that I'll make it up to you all soon. I have to take care of something important" He ended the call abruptly, not giving Thomas a chance to protest, and tossed the phone aside. The engine roared to life as he put the car in gear and drove out of the parking spot, leaving the gallery behind.

"Where are we going?" you asked breathlessly, still trying to catch your breath from the intensity of your orgasm.

Rafayel flashed you a wicked grin, his eyes gleaming with renewed lust and desire. "Back to my place. I'm not done with you yet, not by a long shot." He reached over, resting his hand high up on your thigh, fingers teasing the hem of your dress. "I'm going to take my time with you, explore every inch of this gorgeous body. And then, maybe, just maybe I'll give you another screaming orgasm, but this time on my cock."

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drewswife · 1 month ago

Text

The little things

summary: when Rafe notices the little thing Y/n does to reassure him she isn't going anywhere.

Contains: fluff, Rafe needs reassurance and y/n gives it to him, rafe being vulnerable

A/N: enjoy!

Rafe always felt a pang of anxiety when Y/n left the house. It wasn't that he didn't trust her, it was just that the world felt a little less secure when she wasn't by his side. He knew it was irrational, but he couldn't shake the feeling.

One day, as Y/n was heading out the door for work, she noticed the worried look on Rafe's face. She smiled and walked over to him, pulling him into a hug. "Don't worry, baby," she whispered, her voice soft and reassuring. "I'll be back before you know it."

Rafe hugged her back tightly, burying his face in her hair. "I know," he mumbled, "but you just... you mean so much to me."

Y/n pulled back and looked into his eyes, her own filled with love. "I know, Rafe," she said softly. "And I mean just as much to you."

She leaned down and kissed him gently, then pulled away and smiled. "Now go back to work," she said playfully. "I don't want you to be late."

Rafe chuckled and ruffled her hair. "You're the best," he said, then turned and went back to his desk.

As Y/n drove to work, she thought about Rafe's words. She knew he was just being silly, but she also knew that he meant it. She loved him just as much as he loved her, and she would never do anything to hurt him.

When she got to work, she went straight to her desk and pulled out her phone. She texted Rafe a quick message: "Thinking of you."

Rafe smiled when he saw the message. He knew that Y/n was thinking of him too, and that made him feel a little better.

Later that day, Rafe was working on a particularly difficult project. He was feeling stressed and overwhelmed, and he started to feel a little panicky. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down.

Just then, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He opened his eyes to see Y/n standing there, a gentle smile on her face.

"You okay?" she asked softly.

Rafe nodded, but he didn't say anything. He just looked at her, his eyes wide with relief.

Y/n smiled and sat down next to him. She put her hand on his arm and gave it a gentle squeeze. "I'm here," she said softly. "I'm not going anywhere."

Rafe leaned his head against her shoulder and closed his eyes. He felt a wave of calm wash over him, and he knew that everything was going to be okay.

Y/n stayed with him until he finished his work. Then, she walked him to his car and gave him a long kiss.

"I love you," she whispered.

Rafe smiled. "I love you too," he said, then he got into his car and drove away.

As he drove home, Rafe thought about Y/n's words. He knew that she meant them. She was always there for him, no matter what. And that was all that mattered.

@drewstarkeyzwhore

#drew starkey #rafe x reader #outer banks #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron #rafe obx #outerbanks rafe #rafe imagine #rafe outer banks #rafe fanfiction #obx rafe cameron #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron angst

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bettys-redwinesupernova · 2 months ago

Text

I THINK HE KNOWS

drew starkey x fem!reader

(mood board does NOT depict reader’s appearance!)

SUMMARY: daniel craig introduces his daughter to his co-star drew starkey at the after party for the ‘golden globes,’ and they do more than just hit it off.🫣

based on this ask !! i got a little carried away with this one and i could genuinely write a WHOLE fic with drew x daniel craig’s daughter😫 i have so many ideas for this pairing, so lmk if you wanna see more !! i hope you enjoy this @drewstarrrkey <3

WARNINGS: fluff & smut (18+, MDNI!), cursing, alcohol consumption, flirty!reader, cursing, p in v, fingering, unprotected sex (wrap it before ya tap it😣), switch!drew (mostly dom), like one (?) use of ‘good girl,’ body worship, LOTS of foreplay😝. (lmk if i missed anything!!)

WORD COUNT: 5.2k (i got REALLY carried away😭)

THIRD PERSON +

The energy of the Golden Globes after-party was electric. The clinking of glasses, low hum of laughter, and faint music filled the space. Celebrities mingled under the soft glow of chandeliers, conversations buzzing with excitement about the evening's wins.

Drew Starkey sat at the bar nursing a glass of champagne, still slightly stunned from his earlier win. He'd barely had time to process the moment—his first major nomination and now his first big award.

The crowd was overwhelming, but his co-star, Daniel Craig, had insisted he celebrate properly. Drew watched as Daniel cut through the party with his unmistakable presence, shaking hands, embracing friends, and flashing that rare smile that could light up a room. Behind him, someone followed, and Drew's attention lingered just a little too long.

"Starkey!" Daniel's voice carried above the noise. Drew straightened instinctively, placing his glass back down as Daniel approached.

"Hey!" Drew smiled. "Congrats again. Well deserved, man."

"Thank you. Same to you." Daniel clapped him on the shoulder before stepping to the side. "I want you to meet someone."

Stepping forward with a confident stride was a young woman, poised but relaxed in a way that suggested she belonged in a room like this. Daniel turned to her with an almost affectionate roll of his eyes.

"This is my daughter, Y/N."

Y/N smiled and offered her hand to Drew. "Hi. I've heard so much about you."

Drew shook her hand, his mind scrambling for composure. "You too. I mean—I haven't heard about you in that sense, but your dad's mentioned you. Not in a bad way—uh, I mean—" He stopped, exhaling with a self-deprecating laugh. "Sorry, I'm a bit flustered. It's nice to meet you."

Y/N grinned. "Quite the introduction, Drew."

Daniel raised a brow at them both, clearly amused. "Well, I'll leave you two to it. I see a few friends I need to go bother." He glanced at Drew. "Behave yourself."

Drew let out an awkward laugh. "Of course. Always."

Daniel walked away, disappearing into the crowd. Y/N turned back to Drew, tilting her head slightly as she observed him. "He's very fond of you, you know."

"Is he?" Drew replied, trying to play it cool. "He's great. Working with him was... surreal, honestly."

"I'd imagine. I've seen the movie, of course. You were phenomenal." Her tone was warm, genuine, and Drew found himself smiling at her praise.

"Thank you. That means a lot."

She leaned against the bar, signaling to the bartender for a drink. "You look surprised."

"I guess I just... still don't know how to take compliments," Drew admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's all been a bit overwhelming."

"You shouldn't be so modest. Your performance was stunning. And you've got the trophy to prove it." She shot him a teasing smile. "Don't let it go to your head, though."

Drew laughed, finally feeling himself relax. "I'll try my best. And you—your dad said you're an actress as well? And a model?"

"Here and there. I've done some niche indie films—ones that play in small theatres no one ever goes to." Her voice was light, self-deprecating but playful.

"Niche or not, that's impressive." Drew met her gaze. "What kind of roles?"

Y/N paused as the bartender slid a glass of wine her way. "I guess you could say I play a lot of brooding, lost souls. The ones who always seem to sit by windows and stare out dramatically."

"Ah, very serious. Lots of silent contemplation?"

"Exactly." Y/N laughed softly. "But enough about me. Tell me about Queer. It must've been... intense to film."

"It was." Drew nodded, leaning his elbow on the bar as he turned toward her. "Luca Gaudagnino has this way of making you feel completely vulnerable. It was a challenge, but I trusted him. There's this scene—I'm sure you remember it—where my character completely unravels."

"How could I forget?" Y/N said softly, her eyes locked on his. "You were so raw in that moment. It was almost uncomfortable to watch because it felt so real."

Drew blinked, feeling his ears heat. "That's what Luca wanted. He kept pushing me to 'stop acting,' as he put it. He'd say, 'Feel it. Don't pretend to feel it.' I'd never worked like that before."

"Well, it paid off. Watching you was like watching someone break open right in front of me. Vulnerable, stripped back..." She paused, taking a sip of her wine. "And now here you are, Golden Globe in hand."

Drew looked away, smiling sheepishly. "I'm still processing it."

"You deserve it," Y/N replied firmly. "And no one here is going to let you forget it."

Drew looked at her again, unable to ignore the spark in her gaze. She was bold—not just in what she said, but how she carried herself. It was disarming. "You've got a way with words."

"I'll take that as a compliment." Y/N smiled mischievously. "So tell me, Drew Starkey... how's the fame treating you?"

He groaned playfully, shaking his head. "You're going to make me sound insufferable."

"On the contrary, I think you're handling yourself rather well."

"You say that now," Drew teased. "Talk to me in six months when I've gone completely Hollywood."

"Mm, I don't think that's in your nature." Y/N tilted her head thoughtfully. "You seem far too grounded for that."

"You don't know me yet," Drew countered.

"Well, I'm a very good judge of character. Comes with the territory of being Daniel Craig's daughter—lots of egos to sift through."

Drew raised his brows, amused. "Is that right?"

"Absolutely. I'm rarely wrong." She gave him a sly look. "And my read on you so far is: humble, charming, and maybe a little too hard on yourself."

Drew chuckled, caught off guard. "You're bold."

"Life's too short not to be."

Drew shook his head with a small smile. "And what's your read on yourself?"

Y/N leaned in slightly, her voice dropping just enough to feel conspiratorial. "That would spoil the fun, wouldn't it?"

Drew swallowed, the teasing lilt in her voice setting him slightly off balance. There was a beat of silence between them, the kind that crackled with unspoken tension. He cleared his throat, reaching for his champagne. "You're a mystery, Y/N."

"And you're still a little flustered," she teased, her grin widening. "Do I make you nervous, Drew?"

"Maybe." Drew gave her a crooked smile, holding her gaze. "But I think you like that."

Y/N laughed, the sound light and rich. "I do. I'm not afraid to admit it."

Drew shook his head in disbelief. "You're something else."

"So I've been told." She took another sip of wine, her expression softening just a touch. "But really—what's next for you? After all this?"

Drew shrugged, glancing around the room as if the answer might be hidden somewhere among the guests. "I don't know. This feels like such a huge moment, you know? I almost don't want to think about what's next. I just want to enjoy this."

"As you should." Y/N nodded approvingly. "Don't let anyone rush you."

"I won't." Drew paused, meeting her eyes again. "But... I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little scared of what comes after. What if I can't live up to it?"

"You will," Y/N said softly, her tone sincere. "You've got the talent, Drew. The rest will follow."

Drew studied her for a moment, his chest feeling strangely warm. "You're very good at this."

"At what?"

"Making people feel seen."

Y/N smiled, her expression unreadable. "Maybe you just needed someone to see you tonight."

Drew felt his heart skip, the weight of her words settling between them. Before he could respond, Y/N placed her empty glass on the bar.

"Come on," she said, standing. "You're far too interesting to spend the whole night glued to this bar stool."

"Where are we going?" Drew asked, standing to follow her.

Y/N looked over her shoulder with a mischievous smile. "You'll just have to follow me."

And he did. Without hesitation. A “Yes, ma’am,” slipping from his lips.

Drew followed Y/N as she led him away from the bar, weaving effortlessly through the crowd. She moved with a sort of practiced ease, as if she'd spent her whole life in rooms like this—grand, glittering, and full of famous faces. Drew, still buzzing from the champagne and the residual adrenaline of the evening, was mesmerized.

"I'm dying of curiosity here, where exactly are we going?" Drew asked, his voice tinged with amusement as they turned down a quieter hallway leading away from the main party.

"Somewhere a little less chaotic," Y/N replied, glancing back at him. "Unless you'd rather keep bumping elbows with half of Hollywood."

"No complaints here," Drew said, matching her steps. "I think I've shaken enough hands tonight to last me the rest of the year."

Y/N pushed open a door at the end of the hall, revealing a small terrace overlooking the city. The night air was cool, crisp against their skin as they stepped outside. The noise of the party dulled behind them, replaced by the distant hum of Los Angeles and the quiet rustling of trees in the breeze.

"Better?" Y/N asked, turning to face him.

Drew exhaled, his shoulders relaxing as he looked out over the skyline. "Much better. Thanks."

Y/N leaned against the railing, watching him with an unreadable expression. "You looked like you needed an escape."

"I guess I did." Drew joined her, leaning beside her, their arms nearly brushing. "It's a lot, you know? I'm grateful—don't get me wrong—but... I don't think I'm cut out for the whole schmoozing thing."

"Most people aren't. They just pretend they are." Y/N's lips curled into a small smile. "Besides, you've already done the hard part tonight. The rest is noise."

Drew glanced at her, the city lights reflecting in her eyes. "You're good at this—reading people."

She shrugged lightly, her tone playful but laced with truth. "It's my party trick."

"Anything else I should know about you?" Drew teased. "Other hidden talents?"

"Plenty," she replied with a grin and a cheeky wink. "But I'm not about to give them all away at once. That would ruin the mystery."

Drew shook his head with a laugh, tucking his hands into his pockets. "You're impossible."

"I get that a lot," she said, unfazed. "But you haven't run off yet, have you?"

"No," Drew admitted, his smile softening. "I haven't."

Y/N's gaze lingered on him for a moment before she looked back out at the city. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Did you ever think you'd end up here?" She gestured vaguely to the world around them. "Holding a Golden Globe, being the name on everyone's lips?"

Drew was quiet for a beat, choosing his words carefully. "I don't think it ever felt real enough to imagine. I wanted it, of course—I worked for it—but this? This feels like someone else's life."

"And yet, here you are."

"Here I am," he echoed, looking at her. "What about you? You've grown up in all of this. Does it ever lose its shine?"

Y/N's expression faltered, just for a moment, as if the question touched on something deeper. "Sometimes," she admitted. "It's easy to feel like you're just a part of the machinery—another face in a sea of them. But then you meet someone who reminds you why you love it, why it's worth it."

Drew tilted his head slightly, his curiosity piqued. "Is that why you act? Because you love it?"

"Because I can't not do it," Y/N said simply. "Even when it's thankless, even when no one's watching... I need it."

Drew understood that. It resonated deep within him—the need to create, to express, to push boundaries for reasons that weren't always tangible.

"I get that," he murmured. "The best moments are the ones no one else sees. The ones you do for yourself."

Y/N turned to face him fully, her eyes sharp and intent. "Exactly. And that's what makes what you did in Queer so powerful. It didn't feel performative. It felt real, like you gave a part of yourself away for it."

Drew swallowed, her words hitting him harder than he expected. "I'm honoured. That's... the best compliment I've ever gotten."

"It's true," she said softly. "And for what it's worth, I think you're just getting started."

Drew looked at her, something shifting between them in the quiet. He felt seen—more than that, he felt understood. Y/N Craig, with her razor-sharp wit and unwavering confidence, had peeled back his layers in a way no one else had managed all night.

"You really don't hold back, do you?" Drew said, his voice low.

Y/N smirked, stepping closer. "Why should I? Life's too short for subtlety."

Drew's breath hitched as the space between them narrowed. She was close enough now that he could catch the faintest trace of her perfume—something heady and elegant that suited her perfectly.

"You're dangerous," Drew said, his voice a little unsteady.

Y/N arched a brow, clearly amused. "Am I?"

"Yeah." Drew's lips curved into a small smile. "The kind of person who makes you forget to play it safe."

Y/N tilted her head, her eyes locking with his. "And do you always play it safe, Drew Starkey?"

Drew hesitated for just a second before answering. "Not tonight."

Y/N's smile widened, a knowing glint in her eyes. She reached up, her fingers brushing the lapel of his suit jacket. "Good."

The air crackled between them, thick with unspoken possibilities. Drew could feel his pulse quicken, every sense heightened as Y/N held his gaze. She was testing him, waiting to see what he'd do.

And for once, Drew didn't think—he just acted.

"Do you want to get out of here?" he asked, his voice low and rough.

Y/N's smile was slow and deliberate. "I thought you'd never ask."

Drew grinned, a mix of nerves and excitement flickering across his face as Y/N tugged him by the hand, leading him back through the terrace door. The pair slipped back into the hallway unnoticed, the music and chatter of the afterparty drowning out their hasty footsteps.

"Are we seriously sneaking our way out right now?" Drew whispered, though the grin he wore betrayed any hesitation.

"Unless you'd rather stay and talk to George Clooney about his favorite vineyards," Y/N teased, looking back at him with a mischievous smile. "Then we need to make haste!"

Drew huffed a quiet laugh. "Okay, fair point. Let's go."

They moved quickly, dodging small clusters of guests and waitstaff like a pair of teenagers sneaking out of school. Every time their eyes met, a fit of laughter threatened to spill out of them.

"Act natural," Y/N mock-coached as they passed one of the party coordinators.

"Yeah, because that's going well," Drew shot back, trying to suppress his smirk.

Finally, they pushed through a side exit and found themselves in the cool night air, away from the golden haze of the afterparty. The parking area was quiet, save for a valet who barely looked up as Y/N called for a car.

"God, I feel like we just got away with murder," Drew muttered, running a hand through his hair as he stood beside her.

Y/N grinned up at him, her cheeks flushed. "Feels kind of good, doesn't it?"

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Yeah... yeah, it really does."

The car pulled up, and Y/N wasted no time climbing into the backseat. Drew followed, sliding in beside her and shutting the door. The silence in the car was loaded, broken only by the faint hum of the radio and the distant sounds of the city.

"Your hotel, I assume?" Y/N asked, glancing at him.

"Yeah." Drew cleared his throat, suddenly feeling the weight of what they were doing hit him. He glanced at her and added softly, "If that's okay."

Y/N gave him a teasing look. "Wouldn't be here if it wasn't, would I?"

Drew felt the heat rise to his cheeks, and he covered it with a laugh. "Right. Fair point."

The ride to the hotel felt like a blur, the two of them making light conversation as they both tried to ignore the electric undercurrent running between them. When the car finally pulled up to Drew's hotel, he shot Y/N a nervous glance.

"You sure about this?" he asked quietly.

Y/N's lips twitched into a smirk as she leaned closer, her voice low and teasing. "You're not getting cold feet, are you?"

"Definitely not," Drew said quickly, earning another quiet laugh from her.

They hurried through the lobby—heads down, hands brushing but never fully touching. Drew felt like his heart was pounding in his ears as they reached the elevator. The moment the doors slid shut, Y/N let out a giggle, biting her lower lip.

"We look so suspicious right now," she whispered.

"You look suspicious," Drew shot back with a grin. "I look like someone trying not to have a heart attack."

She rolled her eyes playfully, stepping closer to him. "Relax, Golden Globe winner. No one's paying attention to us."

"That's the problem," Drew muttered under his breath, earning another soft laugh from her.

The elevator dinged, and they stepped onto Drew's floor. He fumbled briefly with the keycard as Y/N watched, clearly entertained by how flustered he'd become.

"Need help?" she teased.

"I've got it," Drew replied quickly, finally getting the door open. He held it for her as she stepped inside, and he followed, shutting it behind them.

The hotel room was simple and sleek, the lights dim as Drew tossed his keycard onto the desk. He turned to find Y/N standing near the window, looking out at the glittering cityscape. She turned to face him, her expression softer now, though still full of that familiar mischief.

But it was like something had switched in the air. Drew leaning back against the door as he studied her.

"So," he began, his voice quiet but laced with an edge that made her stomach twist, "I bet you think you're calling the shots tonight?"

Y/N raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms over her chest. "I mean, I guess we'll see who's running this show, won't we?"

Drew pushed off the door, taking a slow step toward her. His movements were deliberate, almost predatory, and Y/N found herself instinctively taking a small step back. But she wasn't about to let him see her falter. She leaned forward slightly, her lips quirking into a smirk.

"You walk like you own the place," she said, her tone teasing. "But I bet you're all talk."

Drew stopped just inches away from her, his breath warm against her skin. He lifted a hand, brushing a strand of hair away from her face, his touch surprisingly gentle for someone who seemed so intent on dominating the situation.

"Careful, Y/N," he warned softly, his voice almost a whisper. "You might be surprised at what I'm capable of."

His fingers trailed down her neck, and she shivered despite herself. What is this? she wondered, her earlier confidence beginning to waver. There was something magnetic about him, something that pulled her in despite her best efforts to maintain control.

"Or maybe," she countered, tilting her chin up defiantly, "you're just trying to scare me."

Drew's lips twitched into a smile, but there was no warmth in it. "Maybe I am," he admitted, his voice dropping lower. "But why don't we find out?"

Before she could respond, his hands were on her hips, pulling her closer until their bodies pressed together. Y/N gasped softly, her pulse quickening as his proximity overwhelmed her senses. His lips were so close to hers, his breath mingling with hers, and she couldn't help but tilt her face upward, drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

"You're playing a dangerous game," he murmured, his voice rough and intimate. "And I'm not one for playing games."

Y/N swallowed hard, suddenly very aware of how much taller and stronger he was than her. But she wasn't about to back down. "Good," she said, forcing herself to meet his gaze. "Because I like a challenge."

Drew's eyes darkened, and without warning, he dipped his head, capturing her lips in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was commanding, urgent, and left no room for doubt about who was in charge. Y/N's hands flew to his shoulders, gripping tightly as she tried to steady herself against the wave of desire that washed over her.

His tongue traced the seam of her lips, demanding entry, and she parted them instinctively, allowing him access. The kiss deepened, grew more intense, and Y/N felt her knees weaken. Drew held her firmly, his hands sliding up her sides to cup her face, angling her head to deepen the connection.

When he finally pulled away, Y/N was breathless, her cheeks flushed and her chest rising and falling rapidly. She blinked up at him, dazed and disoriented, and realized with a jolt that she'd completely underestimated him.

"As wonderful as that was," Drew said, his voice husky and raw. "I think I need to go slower. Test your limits."

Y/N's heart pounded in her chest as she stared up at him, realisation dawning. He's not bluffing, she thought, her earlier confidence faltering. Drew was lethal, charming, and utterly in control, and she had walked right into his trap.

"What do you want from me?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Drew's lips curved into a wicked smile as he leaned in, his breath hot against her ear. "Everything."

His hand slid from her hip to the small of her back, pressing her closer against him. The heat between them was electric, a palpable tension that threatened to ignite at any moment.

Y/N's breath came in short bursts as she tilted her head up, her lips parted in anticipation. He's not going to kiss me, she thought, not yet. But the way his eyes darkened, the way his fingers flexed against her skin, told her she was wrong. He was going to do exactly what he wanted, and she was going to let him.

"Tell me what you want," he murmured, his lips hovering just inches from hers. "Tell me how much you like this."

She hesitated for a split second, but only a split second. Her boldness was ingrained, a survival mechanism honed by years of attention and expectation. "I like it," she said, her voice steady despite the storm raging inside her. "I like that you're taking control."

Drew's smile was slow, predatory. "Good girl," he said, the words soft but laced with authority. He kissed her then, a deep, bruising kiss that left no room for doubt. His tongue swept into her mouth, demanding, exploring, claiming. Y/N melted into him, her hands gripping his shoulders for balance as the world around her dissolved into sensation.

When he finally pulled away, they were both breathless. Drew stared down at her, his blue eyes gleaming with something that made her stomach twist. "You're not in control here, sweetheart," he said, his tone conversational but firm. "Not anymore."

Y/N swallowed hard, her earlier confidence faltering. He's right, she realised. I walked into this thinking I could handle him, but he's handling me. And God, it was intoxicating.

Drew didn't wait for her response. Instead, he turned her gently, positioning her with her back to him. Her heart raced as she felt his body press against hers, his chest warm and solid against her spine. His hand cupped her breast, thumb brushing over her nipple through the fabric of her dress. She gasped, arching into his touch.

"Do you trust me?" he asked, his voice rumbling against her ear.

She nodded quickly, too caught up in the sensations to form words.

"Good," he said, his grip tightening momentarily before he released her. Y/N blinked, confused, as Drew stepped back. He moved to the bed, sitting down and leaning back on his elbows, his legs stretched out in front of him. His gaze was intense, predatory, as he watched her.

"Take off your dress," he said simply.

The command hit her like a bolt of lightning. Y/N hesitated, her hands moving instinctively to the zipper at the back of her gown. She glanced at Drew, expecting... something. A smile, maybe, or a reassuring word. But his expression remained unchanged, a mask of calm dominance.

He's serious, she thought, her pulse quickening. He wants me to do this for him.

Slowly, deliberately, she began to unzip her dress. The fabric slid down her shoulders, pooling at her hips. She shrugged it off, letting it fall to the floor in a heap. Beneath it, she wore only a lace bra and matching panties, the delicate garments doing little to conceal her arousal.

Drew's eyes roamed over her body, lingering on the curve of her waist, the swell of her breasts, the slight tremble in her thighs. "Beautiful," he murmured, his voice thick with approval. "But not enough."

Y/N's brow furrowed. "What—"

"Shh," he interrupted, raising a hand to silence her. "Don't talk. Just listen."

Her breath caught in her throat as Drew leaned forward, his movements fluid and precise. He reached out, his fingers brushing against the strap of her bra. With a flick of his wrist, he sent it sliding down her arm. Her nipples tightened immediately, peaking under his scrutiny.

"Perfect," he said, his voice a low purr. He cupped her breast in his hand, squeezing gently. Y/N bit her lip to stifle a moan, her legs trembling beneath her.

Drew's free hand reached for the waistband of her panties, tugging them downward until they clung to her hips. He paused there, his fingers tracing the edge of the fabric before hooking his thumbs into the sides and pulling them down her legs.

Y/N stood before him completely exposed, her cheeks burning with embarrassment and arousal. Drew's gaze was relentless, unapologetic, as he took in every inch of her.

"Turn around," he commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument.

She obeyed, her movements stiff with nervousness. When she faced away from him, Drew's hands returned to her body, one stroking down her spine while the other traced the curve of her ass.

"So beautiful," he whispered, his breath hot against her skin. He pressed a kiss to the nape of her neck, his lips lingering as his hands explored her body with increasing boldness.

Y/N's knees nearly buckled beneath her. This is happening, she thought, her brain struggling to keep up with the intensity of the moment. He's really doing this.

Without warning, Drew spun her around and pushed her backward onto the bed. Y/N landed with a soft thud, her heart pounding as she looked up at him. Drew loomed over her, his expression dark and commanding.

"Spread your legs," he ordered, his voice sharp and clipped.

Y/N hesitated, her mind racing. Is this what I want? The question flashed through her mind, but the answer was already there, buried beneath the haze of desire clouding her judgment.

She spread her legs, her breathing shallow and uneven. Drew's eyes flicked down, noting her readiness with a smirk.

"Good girl," he said, the words dripping with approval. He knelt between her thighs, his fingers skimming the inside of her knee before moving upward. Y/N's breath hitched as his touch neared her core, her body tensing in anticipation.

And then, quite suddenly, he stopped.

"Wait," he said, his voice firm.

Y/N blinked up at him, confusion and frustration warring within her. "What?" she managed to whisper.

Drew's smile was wicked, almost cruel. "I need to hear you say it."

"Say what?"

His fingers pressed against her inner thigh, applying just enough pressure to make her squirm. "Tell me what you want," he demanded. "Tell me how much you need this."

Y/N's cheeks flushed crimson, her confidence faltering under his unrelenting gaze. "I... I don't know," she stammered, her voice barely audible.

Drew's expression hardened, his hand withdrawing from her thigh. "Then we're done here."

"No!" she cried, desperation clawing at her throat. "Please, Drew, I—"

"Say it," he interrupted, his voice a low growl.

She hesitated, her pride warring with her need. But she needed this, more than she cared to admit. "Please," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I... I need you to fuck me."

At her admission, Drew's control snapped. His hands and lips were everywhere, leaving no part of her untouched, no moment unexplored.

And within a split-second, he pushed into her, filling her completely. She gasped, her body adjusting to his size, her muscles tightening around him. Drew began to move, his rhythm slow and steady, building the tension once more. He watched her face intently, reading every twitch and moan, adjusting his movements to maximise her pleasure. It was as if he could feel every sensation she was experiencing, as if they were connected in a way that went beyond the physical.

He leaned down, capturing her mouth in another bruising kiss. His hand found her clit, his thumb circling it in time with his thrusts.

The cacophony of sounds filled the room: slick skin connecting, Y/N's breathless whimpers and cries of pure pleasure, Drew's soft moans. But to them it sounded like a symphony; a truly bewitching one.

"Y/N," Drew said her name like a prayer, his voice ragged with volatile emotions. "Look at me."

She obeyed, meeting his gaze as tears of ecstasy blurred her vision. This was it, she realised. This was what she'd been missing. The raw, unfiltered connection, the trust, the surrender.

"Don't look away," he commanded, his voice fierce but tender. "Stay with me."

She nodded, her breathing shallow as she clung to him, her body tense with anticipation. And then, as if on cue, her climax hit her like a tidal wave, her entire body convulsing with pleasure as she screamed his name.

Drew followed soon after, burying his face in the crook of her neck as he poured himself into her, his body shuddering with release. For a moment, they lay there in silence, their hearts pounding in sync.

"So," she said quietly, breaking the silence. "Not a bad way to celebrate your first Golden Globe win, is it?"

Drew let out a soft laugh, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "Not bad at all."

Y/N grinned, lifting her head to look at him. "Good. Because I plan on reminding you about this night for years."

Drew rolled his eyes, though he was smiling. "You're never going to let me live this down, are you?"

"Not a chance."

Drew shook his head, pulling her closer. "You're the worst."

"And yet, here we are," Y/N teased, settling back against him.

Drew couldn't argue with that. As he lay there, listening to her quiet breathing and staring up at the ceiling, he couldn't help but think that this was, without a doubt, the best night of his life.

(dividers by @kodaswrld !!)

betty’s notes ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

i had SO much fun writing this request and i REALLY got carried away XD i hope this wasn’t too long, and was exactly what you wanted my lovely :) request are going to be open for the next 24 hours so get some in if you have anymore everyone !! <3

thinking of starting a tag list if anybody’s interested? as always, hearts and reblogs are always appreciated <3

#rafe cameron #drew starkey #fluff #outer banks #bettys asks !! ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚#drew starkey x reader #drew starkey x you #drew starkey x y/n #drew starkey ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚#drew starkey outer banks #drew starkey one shot #drew starkey fluff #drew starkey smut #smut #bettys work !! ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

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be-xkyy · 12 days ago

Note

Is it bad that I wanna have the yandere men’s babies? 🫣 Cowboys, Sugar Daddy, etc. I’m curious though how some of them would react if reader was enthused to settle down with them and start a family? 🥰

Please don’t stop the breeding/pregnancy kinks

Hi! that's a good question anon and I'll answer it right now.

Tagging list: @kthehoeforfictionalmen ★ @dreamlessnight ★ @riawrld ★ @darkuni63 ★

Yandere reactions to a reader willing and happy to be with them and have their babies.

Yandere Farmer link

This grumpy man doesn't jump for joy or anything, in his mind he doesn't understand why he would be elated by the simple fact that you know your place and where you belong? You belong beneath him receiving his fat cock in your greedy pussy. End of story.

He already thinks he's old (maybe just a little...) and that he's running out of time to have a family and you accepting your place without making a fuss takes a huge weight off his shoulders, he takes you to live with him that very day and oh... you'll realize that this man has the stamina of a bull and the same softness.

As soon as you arrive he already has you bent over the kitchen table with your cheek pressed against the oak wood while his fat cock abuses your pussy, his fat balls slapping your plush ass with a dirty sound while a large hand holds you tightly by the back of the neck squeezing the little hairs deliciously.

From that day on you will have your poor pussy sore and overstimulated because he will fuck you all the time and at all hours.

He fucks you in the morning when the rooster wakes up and doesn't even crow yet but he's already buried deep in your pussy, he fucks you in the barn on a pile of hay when you go to feed the horses, he fucks you in the afternoon when he takes a break after hours in the field under the sun, he fucks you in the shower when you go to bathe to clean off the dirt from a productive day of work and he fucks you when you go to sleep with his calloused hand squeezing your throat, your eyes are rolled back as he fills your fertile pussy with his thick cum for the eleventh time that day.

That repeats itself every day so it's no surprise when just a month later you find out you're pregnant, did that soften it? No really I keep fucking you mercilessly and squeezing your throat until you see stars but you notice him rubbing your flat belly from time to time.

"The children in my family are big— when the baby grows up you may feel a little uncomfortable at first but don't worry, you will feel better during the seventh or eighth pregnancy."

Yandere Cowboy link

Well, reader actually does like yandere Cowboy (since she doesn't know what a bad person he really is) so from the start she wants to be with him and does what he asks her, she stopped taking birth control when he asked her to, she let him fuck her where he wanted and kept her legs up with a pillow underneath for half an hour so his semen wouldn't leak out because he asked her to.

Besides the fact that he knows how to take advantage of her, she's too young and naive and believes that besides her father he's the only one who loves and values her, so it's normal for her to let him sneak into her room (secretly from her father obviously) to fuck like rabbits, he squeezes her in a tight mating hold that barely lets her breathe keeping her legs pressed down almost touching her ears.

He pumps his fat cock into her pussy frantically as she lets out low mewls, he uses a calloused finger to rub circles on her tiny clit that tightens around his member from the overwhelming pleasure she feels and he lets out a guttural growl as he watches her delicious tits bouncing right in front of his face, with one final thrust he cums deep inside her womb flooding it with his swimmers.

"That was so good baby doll, ugh— ha! I bet after this I'll get you pregnant with twins, and if that's not the case we'll try again and again until it works."

Yandere Dilf link

I'd be over the moon, really. He already believes you're his wife, he's believed it since he first saw you holding his son (very delirious) and for you to accept that fact so happily and willingly to be his, to have his babies, would only increase his already enormous delusions.

You won't be going to college anymore, of course not. You'll stay home to take care of his son and prepare everything for when he comes back from work, as a reward he'll make love to you every night without exception, he'll fuck you fervently with one of his hands covering your mouth, muffling your high-pitched moans while his cock drills your swollen pussy mercilessly.

He'll kiss your tits and neck before licking the salt off your skin as he tells you how much he wants to fill you with his babies, that you'll be the prettiest mother ever, all fat and round with one baby in your belly while you hold the other on your hip, he keeps repeating those things over and over again until he finally reaches the limit by cumming deep inside your swollen pussy just like it should be.

"Darling— let's do it again, what if once isn't enough...? Come on spread your legs."

Yandere Sugar Daddy link

Honestly this man is arrogant as fuck when he sees how happy and willing you are to be his and have his brats, he'll end up gloating while pinching your cheek telling you how proud he is that you came to your senses and are his good little girl.

Obviously he'll take you to live with him in his mansion a big one so his future children can have fun running around all over the place, you'll drop out of your law career after all now you have him and his kids soon so why study? He'll fuck you anywhere, he'll fuck you on his private jet forcing you to ride him while the embarrassed stewardesses serve champagne without making eye contact, he'll fuck you on all fours in front of the fireplace filling you with his cum over and over again scolding you playfully when his cum comes out of your pussy staining his 50 thousand dollar carpet he sticks two fingers in your pussy plugging you.

He doesn’t stop fucking you when he finds out you’re pregnant, he doesn’t stop fucking you when you’re 7 months along and your stomach is all big and swollen, he lays you down on the bed making you ride him you bounce up and down as best you can while his hands rub your ass before moving up to your belly heavy with his child, his child, just the thought of him doing this to you turns him on so much, he ends up cumming inside you every time, without fail.

“Fuck— I wish I could put another one of my babies inside you right now, see you even more swollen with my children. Shit— move again.”

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wheeboo · 7 months ago

Text

for a moment, forever | choi seungcheol

SYNOPSIS. in which while shopping for wedding dresses for your best friend, you can't help but want to try one on too. PAIRING. choi seungcheol x gn!reader (ft. jihyo from twice as reader's engaged best friend) GENRE. fluff, established relationship WARNINGS. mild cursing, terms of endearment, reader wears a wedding dress, cheol doesn't show up until like halfway into the fic HAHAH WORD COUNT. 2.2k

notes: this is lowkey me describing my dream dress if i do somehow get married lmao so also self indulgent too ig, and it was fun searching up dresses! this also reminds me of that one scene from extraordinary attorney woo. if u know u know :') happy belated bday cheol <3

[02:39PM | y/n] should be done with jihyo's appointment in a few hours!! you can pick me up then bub❤️

[2:41PM | cheol 💕] Sounds good, my love. I'll see you then 😊

"Wait, oh my God, that one is beautiful!"

"Right?!" Jihyo exclaims eagerly before swiping to the next photo in her camera roll, on it displayed a gorgeous mermaid wedding dress that she had saved from Pinterest. "Okay, not sure if I like the mermaid ones but this was one was too pretty to not be saved."

"You can always ask to try one on too. I still think you'd rock whichever one you put on," You tell her, lacing an arm around hers as the two of you approach the bridal boutique that was just around the corner. "I still can't believe you're getting married."

When you and Jihyo exchange knowing glances with each other, squeals of excitement escape both of you. It feels surreal, almost like a dream knowing that your best friend is about to walk down the aisle and take her first steps into married life. Just ahead of the two of you, the bridal boutique gleams with soft lights and elegantly displayed gowns in the windows.

As you both step inside, the cozy warmth of the boutique wraps around you, and a subtle, lingering floral scent and delicate perfume fills the air. The interior is enchanting yet inviting, with a variety of dresses arranged by style. The boutique's consultant greets you both with a welcoming smile, and after a brief chat and a rundown of the different options, she leads you to a private area where Jihyo can begin her fitting.

You follow Jihyo as she naturally gravitates towards the gowns on display. You can tell she's already picturing herself in each dress. It's a bit overwhelming being surrounded by so many intricately designed dresses, like you've walked straight into a world of fairytale. Lace, satin, tulle𑁋every fabric imaginable seems to be represented here.

While helping Jihyo pick out some dresses, you can't lie that some have caught your eye more than you can admit. Knowing that one day these dresses will be worn by someone on of the most important days of your life fills you with awe. The thought makes your heart full, and briefly, you can't but help but imagine yourself walking down the aisle one day.

For a moment, your mind flickers to the thought of Seungcheol, and your heart does a jump.

One particular white tulle, floral embroidered dress with off-shoulder sleeves catches your attention. It's a perfect blend of elegance and romance. You let your hand run over the delicate embroidery, marvelling with admiration at the elaborate details caressed over every inch of it. The floral patterns are so finely crafted that they seem to bloom like real flowers right out of the fabric.

"Y/N, you need to try that on right now!"

You turn swiftly at the sound of Jihyo's commanding voice. "What? No, I can't𑁋"

"Come on, please!" Jihyo urges insistently while holding just about a dozen dresses in her hands. "It's so beautiful!"

"But this is for your special day, not𑁋"

"Honey, you and Seungcheol have been together for so long now, and sooner or later, you're going to have your special day too. Just try it on for fun, and I’d love to see how it looks on you!"

Okay, she really didn't have to bring up Seungcheol like that, but now you can't get it out of your head. An odd, fluttery feeling bursts in your stomach on top of the embarrassment crawling up your neck.

"Fine," You relent with a playful look. "But I'll do it after you try on all your dresses. Once again, today is for you, missy."

A wide grin spreads across her face as she shuffles towards the fitting room. "It's a deal!"

The next hour or so you spend lounging on the couch as Jihyo tries on dress after dress. Each one seems to bring out a different side of her: from elegant to dramatic, playful to sophisticated. You can’t help but laugh and cheer her on, snapping pictures and videos to capture every moment. You also help with various aspects of the fittings, from adjusting straps to even adding the veil on her head.

"You look like a princess!" You exclaim, clapping your hands as she twirls in a voluminous ball gown in front of the mirror.

"I feel like one!" Jihyo giggles, even doing a dramatic hair flip to add for an endearing touch.

The last one that she tries on is a mermaid dress with stunning lace detailing and a long, flowing train that spreads across the floor like ocean waves. As she steps out of the fitting room, the dress hugs her curves perfectly, and she looks every bit of a confident, radiant bride shining in her own element.

"Girl," You gasp out, voice full of awe. "that dress was made for you. You look absolutely stunning!"

Jihyo gazes at herself in the mirror. "Really?"

"Yes!" You claim, and you almost want to cry thinking about your best friend walking down the aisle. "I can so picture you walking down the aisle in this, holy shit."

Jihyo chuckles bashfully at your reaction.

"I'm going to be a bride," she says aloud, somewhat to herself and in a way announcing to the world too, before turning to you with a gleeful expression. "I'm going to be a bride!"

[04:45PM | cheol 💕] Are you done, sweetheart? I got to leave work earlier and just arrived at the place. Might come in since it's boiling outside 😅

"I really don't know about this𑁋"

"Come on, just try it on!" Jihyo nudges you ever so slightly to the fitting room, the dress trembling in your grasp. "This will be us doing some early preparations for your wedding, 'kay?"

Reluctantly, you find yourself stepping into the fitting room, the dress in your hands feeling both light and heavy at the same time. Taking a long, deep breath, you start to change into the dress as the consultant comes to your side to assist.

At first, the fabric feels odd against your skin, the delicate embroidery and soft tulle brushing against your shoulders as you put on the dress. The off-shoulder sleeves fit surprisingly snug when you slip them through your arms. The floral patterns seem to come alive right before your eyes, just like they had when you first saw the dress.

You take the first glance of yourself in the mirror in the fitting room, and it's almost as if you've been kicked in the gut and all the words had left you.

"Wow," You whisper to yourself, doing a small spin to see how the dress looks, and it feels absolutely magical to be the one wearing this dress right now.

Scrambling slightly, you look around your scattered belongings on the floor for your phone, knowing that you just have to capture this very moment before you would have to take the dress off.

But you can't find your phone anywhere.

"Crap, where did I put it?" You mumble annoyedly, having to move your dress around to get a better look, yet you still don't see it. Did you leave it outside? "Hey, Jihyo! If you're out there, can you pass me my phone?"

No response.

"Jihyo?"

Still no response.

Deflating your shoulders, you decide you might as well step outside to retrieve it.

"I didn't think the dress would fit this good. It's a bit heavier than I thought but I think I could manage𑁋"

And then you freeze, almost as if you were caught red-handed committing some sort of heinous crime, because Seungcheol is standing not that far away from you, eyes wide with disbelief and mouth dropped down to the floor at the sight of you wearing the wedding dress.

For a few moments, it's like the world stops as well, and you start to feel a little self-conscious under his gaze.

"Cheol? What are you..." Then you look down at yourself and the dress you were wearing. "You're here earlier than I-I thought, I should go change𑁋"

Seungcheol blinks back to reality from your words. "Wait, no, don't move, please."

He keeps his eyes locked on you, his gaze moving from your face, to the way the dress hugs and accentuates your figure in all the right ways, then back up again. You can practically see the gears turning in his head. You can't help but feel a blush creeping up your cheeks as you stand there, awkwardly holding the hem of the dress in your sweaty hands.

You can hear your heart pounding in your chest. This is not how you imagined seeing Seungcheol after Jihyo's appointment. You were expecting a casual, friendly greeting, maybe a quick kiss, and then a drive home. But this... this is different. You've been with Seungcheol for years, but he's staring at you like he's seeing you for the first time.

"Wow, I..." He scratches the back of his neck sheepishly before placing his hands in his pockets. "You're fucking breathtaking, honey."

Your cheeks burn brighter than ever, some sort of choked sound leaving you at his bluntness. You glance down at the dress, then back at Seungcheol.

"You... You think so?" You ask, voice timid and tainted with unsureness.

"Think so?" he repeats, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "I know so. I can't take my eyes off you."

A rush of heat climbs up your neck as you avert your eyes away, pretending to adjust the hem of the dress, fingers clumsily tugging at the material. The dress suddenly feels suffocatingly hot and you don't know how much more you can take.

His eyes still don't leave you even when he steps closer, the features of his face softening into simply an adoring look.

You could feel your feet melting into the ground below. "Cheol, I should really go change𑁋"

"Not yet," he says firmly, and you stay put. "Just let me look at you for a little longer, please?"

That familiar, pleading tone to his voice makes your heart run laps in your chest and causes your knees to feel like jelly. He takes a few more steps towards you, and before you know, he's standing right in front of you, half-lidded eyes flickering between yours and your lips. He takes a hand out of his pocket and reaches out to gently cup your face, letting a finger trace slowly over your cheek, leaning in just close enough to whisper in your ear.

"I can't wait to marry you."

His words come out so quiet that you're barely able to hear it. And before you can respond, some loud, marching footsteps snaps you out of thought.

"Y/N! Look at this, I found the perfect veil for you!" When Jihyo sees you and Seungcheol, she stops short in her tracks, glancing at the sight of you in the dress and Seungcheol standing in front of you appearing as if he was just two seconds away from kissing you.

You clear your throat loudly, stepping away from Seungcheol and towards Jihyo.

"You found a veil for me?" You ask her.

"Yeah, put it on!" Jihyo hands you the dainty veil. "I went through hell trying to find a good one and I think this one works perfectly."

You feel Seungcheol's eyes on you as you carry the veil towards the mirror and carefully place it over your head. The light, airy fabric showers down around you, complementing the elegant gown. As you adjust the veil to your liking, you catch a glimpse of your reflection and can't help but smile. You see Seungcheol in the mirror as well, staring at you with an intense gaze of admiration.

And when you turn around, Seungcheol thinks you look more beautiful than what his imagination could possibly give him. He has to bite at his bottom lip in order to suppress some of the giddiness threatening to spread throughout his body, and the thought of seeing you again in a wedding dress makes him almost dizzy.

You're like an angel who has stepped foot into his world. The dress houses your wings and the veil is your halo. It's a perfect vision of the future he’s been dreaming about for so long it nearly makes him burst; a reality that he never thought he'd be seeing so soon.

He's going to marry you𑁋he knows he will. He knew that from that moment you first smiled at him back in your freshman year English class, all because you both simply made unexpected eye contact while you were introducing yourself. He knew it even more when he embarrassingly fell on his ass during a university soccer game and your laugh was the only sound that he could hear.

This is his first peek of forever with you, and he can't wait for it to all come true.

Seungcheol faintly hears you ask what he thinks about it, and only the heavens know how much he wants to answer by putting that ring stashed in the depths of his bedside drawer on your finger right then and there. But there's a time and place for everything. He has to make sure everything is perfect first.

So, yeah, he should really get to planning. And right now seems like a good start.

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apheliia · 6 months ago

Text

READ THIS EARLIER WHILE I WAS STANDING IN LINE AT A PHARMACY AND. OUGH. AVERY. AVERY. YOU.

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ FLESH AND BLOOD — platonic douma & reader !

synopsis. douma’s child knows there is only one way to truly escape: killing their father. warnings. kny-typical blood, death & yknow... eating people. knives, threats of violence. unhealthy family dynamics. douma is his own warning tbh. notes. PLATONIC. (terrible) father figure!douma. gn!reader. they/them used. angst. 3.6k words. read warnings pls! @romaritimeharbor you were right, i couldn't write a happy ending. this man was made for horror, not fluff.

Every step [Name] takes is heavy.

There’s a knife strapped to their belt, hidden under several layers of clothing. They swiped in from the kitchens one night on a whim, sneaking behind two chefs who were too engrossed in an argument about spices to notice them. Once they left—with neither chef noticing them at all—they took to work fashioning a strap to attach it to their belt, and tucked it under their clothes. When they were finished, it swung on their hip, occasionally bumping against their thigh if they ran too quickly. Secure, but still accessible; exactly how they wanted it.

It isn’t the most ideal weapon. They haven’t had enough experience wielding it to even know what to do with it if their situation called for a fight, but it hangs by their side like an anchor. The slight pressure, with the glint of metal separated from their skin by a single layer of fabric, grounds them.

Every night, they make sure the edge is sharpened, before tucking it under their pillow with one hand slotted underneath. Idly, their fingers trace the edge of the handle, prepared to close around it should they wake up to an attack.

And yet, even with the care they have to make sure the knife is always close to their side, they have never once used it. It’s a safeguard more than anything else; a reminder that no matter what happens in the lion’s den they call a home, they are ready and prepared to fight their way out to safety. It didn’t need to be withdrawn; a simple pat to their side to make sure the weapon was still safely attached to their belt was enough to steady their nerves.

As they walk through the halls with feather-light footsteps, their heartbeat pounds with the wings of a hummingbird. They force their breath to even out into a steady pattern, squeezing their hands into fists to stop them from shaking. They were not the apex predator in this place, but they’d be damned if they were reduced to mere prey.

Through the halls of their home, they pass countless faces that greet them with big smiles and waves. They don’t stop for a single one, only nodding slightly and murmuring a greeting for each. One woman in particular gasps as she sees them, peeling away from her group to catch their arm as they walk by.

“Ah, [Name]! I was speaking with Lord Douma earlier, and he requested that you join him for dinner tonight!” The woman smiles brightly at them. They bite back a sharp retort, instead forcing a smile.

“If you see him again, tell my father that I might be late,” they say smoothly. The words feel like poison on their tongue, but they spit them out anyway.

Father was once a word they used with pride. It was babbled through lips that barely knew the sounds they were making, but the title was met with a blinding smile. Douma seemed to take pride in the word as well, if the way he scooped them into his arms every time they called him it was any indication. He’d press his cheek to their hair, squeezing them against his chest like they were a stuffed toy. A laugh, brimming with almost childlike glee, and an excited, “Yes, yes, that’s it! I’m your father, and you’re my darling little child.”

They were happy as his child, for a long time. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t their family by blood; he was the one to take them in when they were only a baby, giving them all they could ever want or need and spoiling them beyond comprehension. He adored them, more than anything. That was what he promised, at least.

Their childhood was happy, as happy one can be when raised in a cult. The followers loved them as much as they loved Douma himself, showering them with attention and gifts when he wasn’t there to give them it instead. [Name] learned to look past the smiles, to not get attached to the voices that spoke their name with reverence, because it was almost never the same face that greeted them twice. It didn’t matter too much, because Douma was always there to fill the gaps with his warm embraces.

But they grew older, as children do, and the haze of paradise slowly cleared. The mysteries of their youth that once felt like exciting secrets to unearth began to weigh on them, and they found themself pestering Douma with endless questions. Questions like ‘Why do people keep disappearing?’ and ‘What’s beyond the Eternal Paradise?’

To their frustration, his responses were vague and dismissive, never leaving them satisfied. The only answers they received were ‘They’ve achieved Paradise.’ and ‘Nothing. There is nothing worth seeing beyond here.’

Douma always said they were naturally inquisitive, but that burning desire for answers only brewed a frustration in their chest that never seemed to be quelled by his distant answers. He was hiding things, they could see it on his face. There were too many things that he kept secret to be coincidence, too many details that didn’t add up.

Their fervent pursuit of answers led to one place: the door at the end of main hall. It was locked at all times, the only place they were forbidden from entering. Douma was especially serious when he informed them the room was off limits, his eyes turning sharp when he questioned him about it.

“This is my home and yours, and you are free to roam everywhere else, but that place isn’t for you, little one.”

The words might have deterred them as a child, but they couldn’t let their curiosity fester any longer.

There was one key that opened every lock in the cult, hidden in a secret compartment in the main room that Douma didn’t think they knew about. One night as slipped through the door and locked it behind him, they stole the key, slipping it in the lock and turning the handle.

The first thing they noticed was red. It covered the room, spilling across his table, dripping steadily on his tiled floors and splattering across the walls in an angry scarlet. The second thing they noticed was that their father was covered in it. The colour was smeared across his face, trickling from his lips and down his chin. It stained his robes and coated his hands, but he barely noticed; he was too busy swiping his tongue across his lips to soak up the excess droplets.

Among the carnage was the lifeless figure of a woman, her body mangled and thrown carelessly at his feet. Douma himself was lounging on a chair, his legs crossed, unbothered by the nightmarish scene surrounding him. One of his hands clasped a severed arm, bringing it to his teeth and tearing off a chunk of flesh. He hummed as he ate, licking his lips like he was savouring the taste.

In all their years of growing up by his side, they’d watched as Douma had ignored the gifts of food his followers brought him, yet now, now he seemed to find his appetite. Their skin crawled, memories of rejected meals and his claims of already eating echoing in their ears. When he locked himself in the room, was this what he was doing? Was this where their missing followers ended up?

They clutched their arm, pressing their nails hard enough to leave marks against their skin. The sight was something out of their worst nightmares, yet the sting of pain was a sharp reminder that it was reality. Nausea bubbled up in their stomach, but they forced it down long enough to close the door with a quiet click and lock it again.

They never confronted him after that day. They could barely look him in the eye long enough to do so. But one thing was clear: as long as he lived, they and all of the followers of the Eternal Paradise faith were in danger.

Their hand brushed against their hip. The cold press of metal through their clothes eased their nerves.

A proper fighter would have a sword, and use it to slice his head clean off, but they would have to make do with a simple kitchen knife. Eventually the moment would present itself, eventually he would be off his guard, and they would have the chance to ambush him. The edge of the blade was sharp, all it would take is one slice across his throat and his life would be snuffed out.

They ignored the nagging part of them that told them it wouldn’t be enough, that Douma had to be something inhuman, something powerful, something that took more than a slit throat to kill. It whispered that a creature so heartless that it would slaughter and consume innocent humans couldn’t possibly be an ordinary mortal being.

They especially ignored the part of them that blanched at even the thought of harming him, the man that brought them in and doted on them every day of their life. That was the part that wished they could go back and never look through the door, maintaining a fragile bliss that wasn’t wrought with fear and uncertainty; the part that urged them to forget, to close their eyes and let him be their adoring father again.

Their footsteps haltered as they approached the open doorway that led to the main room of the building. Even the entrance was ornately decorated, with delicately painted screens separating it from the rest of the rooms.

“Is someone there?” A voice called out sharply. Their breath caught in their throat, and they patted their side instinctively. With a careful glance around the door, they saw him, sitting in the centre of the elaborate room on his usual cushioned seat.

“Are you hiding?” Douma asks, his eyes glinting with something dark and unreadable. He leans his head on his hand, smiling at where they are half-concealed behind the doorway. “My child, is that you? Come on out, don’t be shy.”

There was no point trying to pretend they weren’t there. With a deep breath, they step into the light.

“It is my child!” He laughs, in a voice that could be mistaken for delight. If they were a little younger they would have beamed at the sound, but their maturity had earned them the skill of seeing right through his cheery demeanour. “[Name], have you come to visit me?”

“Yes.” They say stiffly, forcing a neutral expression. They ignored the way his smile softened; it was a lie, it had to be.

“Aren’t I a lucky father?” Douma pauses to wipe away a fake tear, the sight making something curl uncomfortably in their gut. He pats the area beside his chair. “Come, sit down.”

When they were a baby—back when the brightness of his smile felt genuine—he would sit them on his lap, letting them play with his fans while he spoke to his followers. They were too old for that now, so instead they tiptoe inside and settle beside the chair, sitting with their knees tucked to their chest.

“How are you today, [Name]? It feels like forever since we’ve caught up.” Douma asks them as they sit, smiling over at them. They pick at the edge of their clothing, not meeting his eye.

“What does the writing in your eyes mean?” They suddenly ask, instead of answering.

“Curious today, are we?” Douma chuckles. He taps his nail just below his right eye. “I’m sure you know what this one is.”

They nod, recognizing the numeral. “It’s… two, right?”

“Yes, it is! Such a smart child I have.” Douma’s grin widens, and he points the other one. “What about this one?”

They squint at his eye, observing the thin brushstrokes over the rainbow-coloured iris. It wasn’t a character they recognized, even after their studies. “I don’t know.”

“This one—” Douma tapped his nail against his skin. “Is a combination of two characters. Together it means Upper Rank.”

“Upper Rank…?” They echo. “Upper Rank Two? What does that mean?”

“It’s my ranking.” Douma hums, not bothering to explain further. “Is it my turn to ask a question now?”

Their posture stiffens. “If you want.”

Douma clapped his hands together. “Oh, how fun! What to ask… what to ask…”

He pauses to think, tapping his finger on his chin. “Oh, I have one! What have you been doing with your days?” Douma leans his head on his hand with a smile. “I’ve barely seen you recently. You used to spend so much time with me.”

They swallow down the anxiety that bubbled up at his question. The truthful answer was that they had been carefully avoiding his room, not bothering to stop by unless they were called specifically. The rest of their days were spent sneaking around, scoping out potential escape routes, or making sure their knife was sharp and ready to kill.

“Just… things.” They say vaguely.

Douma stares at them with a pleasantly puzzled expression. “Things…?”

“Yes.”

“How fascinatingly mundane!”

“I guess I’m just a boring person.” They shrug.

“And what about that knife you’ve been carrying around, hm?” Douma asks, his smile not faltering, even as their heart stopped. “I would love to know what you’re planning with that one!”

His eyes are crinkling with the force of his smile, but there is no warmth behind it. They narrow their own eyes, quickly rising to their feet and taking a step backwards. His gaze tracks their every movement, following their hand as they fumble at their belt to pull out the knife from their makeshift sheath.

“Guess.” Their hands shake, but the ready the weapon anyway. “Take a guess as to what I’m planning with it.”

One slice at his throat. One slit, and he’s dead. One cut, and this whole nightmare will end, and he will never be able to hurt anyone again. This was what they'd been preparing for.

“Are you going to kill me?” Douma coos, standing from his chair and grinning. “How adorable!”

“Sh-Shut up!” They hiss, gripping the handle tighter. “I know what you did! I know about that poor woman, the one you murdered and devoured! How many followers have you killed, huh? Was I next? Have you just been raising me like a pig for slaughter?”

“Oh.” A tilt of his head, and a saddened expression that looked… almost real. Almost. They tighten their grip on the blade, reprimanding themself for nearly falling for his act. It wasn’t real, none of it was. They couldn’t forget that, no matter how hurt his expression looked. “I don’t want to kill you, my child.”

“I don’t believe you!” They yell back.

Douma tilts his head to look at them, his face still twisted in that same mask of pity. He took one step towards them, then another, until they were face to face. Before they could blink, his hand was gripping their wrist tight enough to bruise.

“I’m not going to kill you, [Name].” He says sadly, twisting their wrist to seize the knife and holding it up out of their reach. “I am not going to hurt you, nor am I going to let anything else hurt you. It makes me sad that you can’t see that.”

“You’re a monster.” They hiss, their eyes filled with tears. They stumble a few steps back, putting some semblance of distance between them.

Douma chuckles slightly. “And you’re my child. What does that make you?”

They flinch as if he had struck them, stumbling back even further at his words. “I am nothing like you!”

“Aren’t you?” Douma says, his voice thick and sweet like honey. “Oh, we aren’t related by blood but I raised you from birth. Why do you think I would spare such a frail creature like yourself, if I didn’t see a part of myself in you? We’re cut from the same cloth, you and I. You’re my child, through and through.”

“I’m nothing like you!” They cry out. “You’re a murderer!”

“Yet you’re the one who was plotting my death.” He waves the kitchen knife in front of their face with amusement dancing on his lips. “That sounds an awful lot like the work of a murderer to me.”

“That’s different.”

“Is it though? It’s still homicide.”

“It was self-defence!”

Douma chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief. “Killing me isn’t self-defence if I haven’t laid a hand on you. I’m afraid that’s just called murder.”

“You’re—” Their words died in their throat. No matter how cruel he sounded saying them, he was right. They were planning to kill him. Maybe they were no better than him after all. “You’re… you’re a monster… I had to kill you. Before… you killed me. That was why I had the knife.”

“Oh, I’m afraid this little thing wouldn’t do much,” Douma laughs as he waves the weapon. With a smile, he drew back the sleeve of his robe and pressed the edge of the knife to the back of his arm. He drags the blade across it, smiling serenely as a line of bright red blood drips down his skin. In seconds the cut is knitting itself back together, leaving only a stain of scarlet over his fully healed skin. “It’s adorable that you thought you could hurt me, but simple weapons like these don’t leave a scratch on me.”

Their heart stopped, watching the mark smooth out and fade into nothing.

It… didn’t matter. All the nights of cutting their fingers of the edge in their haste to make sure it was still under their pillow didn’t matter. The comforting weight at their side wasn't worth anything; it never would have achieved a thing in the first place.

They were a sheep wandering around the den of a wolf, confidently thinking their blunt hooves would be enough to pierce its hide. A painful feeling washed over them—powerlessness.

Their eyes began to burn, along with their chest. As quickly as the rush of adrenaline filled their body, it left, knocking all the air out of their lungs. Tears slowly started dripping down their cheeks, quietly at first, before they were followed by heaving sobs.

“I do love you, my child.” Douma sighs. Lie, it was a lie. “I wish you wouldn’t have done something like this. I was so happy to watch you grow up, content keeping you alive and human. Now what am I to do?”

Their shoulders hitch, hands scrubbing desperately at their eyes. There was a calculating glint in his eyes, before Douma stepped forward again and pulled them into a cold embrace.

“What am I to do with you…” Douma muses, holding them against his chest as they sobbed. The front of his robes were covered in tears and snot but he paid it no mind, just sighing softly and running his fingers through their hair. “My poor child…”

The feeling of his fingers through their hair made them shiver. Were his nails always so sharp, or was his touch just soft enough to hide it?

“What was your plan?” Douma pulls them away to look at their face properly, a sparkle of amusement in his eye. “Where were you going to go, after you killed me, hm? You know there’s nothing out there for you. No one would want to take in a murderer, especially one who killed their own father in cold blood.”

“I would have found somewhere.” They mumble, slowing their sobs to quiet sniffles.

Douma shook his head fondly, like they were discussing something trivial. “Oh, my sweet child, who put such an idea in your head? There is nowhere you can go. Here, it is safe. Here is happy. Why would you ever leave?”

They wanted to scream their anguish, kicking and clawing at him until his face was red and bloody. This man—no, this monster masqueraded as a loving father for years, all while blood spilled behind his gilded doors. But the saccharine sweetness that his voice carried wormed its way into their ears, poisoning their thoughts and—

Such a disappointing, ungrateful child they must be. He welcomed them into his arms, and they were planning to—

Their mind was split. All of their instincts screamed at them to run, run until their lungs burned and their feet bled, but there was a gnawing part of them that clung to his honeyed words. At least when they were in his favour they were safe; they could turn away from the truth and cling to their fractured picture of family. Maybe if they fell to their knees and begged him for forgiveness, he would forget all about their betrayal and welcome them as his child again.

They weren’t anywhere near strong enough to kill him. The least they could do was survive.

“What do you have to say for yourself, [Name]?” Douma asks gently, and something in them snaps.

They fall forward, burying their face in his chest and clutching onto the back of his robes with a wail. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

“That’s what I thought…” Douma sighs in almost amusement. He places his hand on the top of their head, ruffling their hair gently.

“I’m sorry… I’ll never do it again, I promise. Please… please don’t leave me! I don’t know what I would be without you,” they cry, the words spilling out so easily they can’t tell if they’re a lie or not.

It wasn’t the end. One day his guard would drop and they would seize the chance, taking everything they own and running away into the night. They will run, not knowing where they will end up but knowing they need to be anywhere but there. Even if it means spending the rest of their life shying away from dark corners and patting their side to check on their weapon, they will escape.

For now, they weep in the arms of their father.

#✧— aphe's recommendations.#NO WORDS.#fact that he doesn't kill them goes SO hard. avery you cooked here. you get him. this is the douma fic ever #i feel like people often forget that about douma. like. he was never going to kill kotoha. he was perfectly content with her alive #he probably *still* wouldn't have killed her if she didn't absolutely FREAK when she found out what douma was doing #(not that i blame her bc girl i would lose my shit too... absolutely terrifying)#makes me want to keep writing my douma fic grrrr #maybe i'll split mine into 2 chapters so i feel less overwhelmed & intimidated by it HAHAH #BUT ANYWAYS #DUDE.... AVERY.........#they are so so so pathetic to him and you captured that perfectly #like he's so mocking and belittling towards them in that overly saccharine and fond way #like you NAILED that!!!!#“Douma chuckles slightly. “And you’re my child. What does that make you?””#GAGGED. SILENCED. I HAVE BEEN QUIETED.#[name] is so cooked dude..... they are so done for. that's it. argument over. douma got them. No coming back from that one fr #douma is so perfect for psychological horror. like he doesn't even have to do anything physically harmful ever +#+ to feel intimidating. he's so perfect for this style of fic.#“Please… please don’t leave me! I don’t know what I would be without you”#nothing. unspoken answer to that is *nothing.*#fuck douma all my homies hate douma!!!!! (<- me and the homies are writing so many fics about him)

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prael · 2 months ago

Text

Day 6: Revenge Or Fate

IOI/Gugudan Sejeong x male reader smut

words: 5,611 12 Days of Praelmas Masterlist

"What's that look for?" you ask with all the whimsy you can muster. "I only said that I bought your favourite popcorn. Why are you staring at me as if I just got down on one knee and proposed?"

"You did say you'd marry me someday," Sejeong jokes. Then she does that thing she always does when she's nervous—tugging at the lobe of her ear.

You roll your eyes. "Yeah. I mean when we are both in our sixties. When you have become the crazy cat lady and I the bachelor with a penchant for wine and cigarettes. It's not even close to that time yet."

"Why would you be smoking?" Sejeong wrinkles her nose. She knows you can't stand the smell.

"Because I'll be an ageing bachelor, duh," you answer with a dismissive wave of a hand as you sit by her on the couch. She's got her legs curled up against her chest, the way she always does when it's cold outside. You'd know—she's been sitting like that on your couch every winter since the beginning of time.

She lets out the softest of laughs before it quickly dissipates into silence. She's staring across the room, but not really looking at anything. Her face is painted in melancholy. You know her well enough to know that look, and you hate it. Hate everything it represents. You sigh. The first time you saw her like this was back as teenagers, after the dog she grew up with had been hit by a car. It still hurts your chest.

"You've got that look again," you tell her. "Like there's a million and one things in your mind and none of them particularly good."

"I'm okay. Just tired." Sejeong's smile doesn't quite convince you.

"I wasn't going to say anything. I thought you'd tell me if you wanted me to know, but it's been months since you asked me to come over on a Friday night, so something has happened. I haven't seen this much annoyance behind your eyes since the end of Game Of Thrones. What is it?"

"I'm just feeling overwhelmed, that's all. I wish you weren't so observant."

"You should be used to it by now."

Sejeong flashes a half-hearted smile and takes hold of your hand as she used to do when you were kids. You feel guilty for the way your stomach flutters.

"I guess we have always known each other better than anyone else," she admits, her hand still clasped around yours. It's warm and familiar. You feel the urge to push away, but how can you? It would give far too much away. She has always had this effect on you—you could never distance yourself from her warmth. "He's an asshole."

"You don't need to tell me twice," you chuckle. Then: "Tell me what happened."

"I think he might be cheating."

The air escapes from you at once. The way Sejeong said it is so casual, almost as if she'd resigned herself to this fate a long time ago. And here you are, trying your best to keep your anger under control, like always. But not for her sake—rather, for yours. You know where your feelings belong, and they have no place in the situation at hand. Not today, and definitely not ever. You take a deep breath and look her square in the eye.

"What did he do?"

"I shouldn't have mentioned it," she laughs nervously. She doesn't want to put any more weight on your shoulders than she already has, because that's who she is, you suppose. But how can she expect you to ignore it when she looks like a sad dog staring into the rain on someone's front porch?

"We're best friends. I want to hear everything," you insist.

"He's been acting differently lately." Sejeong pauses. "Distant. Like there's something he isn't telling me."

"Do you think there might be?" you ask carefully.

"It's always something with work. Or a friend that really needs him. Or a family member or—fuck. I don't know."

"I'm sorry."

Sejeong sighs and runs a hand through her hair. There are unshed tears in her eyes. This bastard is making her cry. You want to smash something, preferably his head.

"I don't wanna bother you with this shit," she whispers. She sounds exhausted.

"Don't say that," you retort softly, squeezing her hand in yours. It's clammy. "Don't ever say that again."

She gives a curt nod.

"God knows I've told you enough about my romantic misadventures over the years," you joke. Your chest tightens when Sejeong lets out the tiniest of laughs. Maybe you can still make this right, whatever this is. "Misery loves company."

"You know," she begins, pausing to look at you properly. There is something unreadable in her gaze, something that you've never seen before. It makes you hold your breath in anticipation of whatever is to come. "If there's one person I could choose to be miserable with, it would be you."

For a brief second, you forget that time exists.

"Well, I'm very honoured," you reply eventually. There's another pause where you ponder what to say next. Then, simply, because that seems like the easiest answer: "Do you want me to go beat him up?"

Sejeong laughs and punches you in the arm.

"I thought you were a pacifist?"

"Yeah, but exceptions must be made sometimes."

She raises an eyebrow at you. You can't tell what she's thinking. "For me?"

"Yes."

It feels like standing on a cliff. You want nothing more than to jump, to feel freefall in your whole body. The only problem is that you'll most certainly die. The ground below is made of jagged rocks and bad ideas. Yet, here you stand, willing to do anything in the world for the beautiful girl next to you. Even if it means lying broken beyond repair.

Sejeong breaks your trance when she explains, "There's this girl he works with. We had dinner together with some people from their office two weeks ago, and... I don't know. They just seemed off. She kept looking at him. You know that look? The one where they linger on someone just a bit too long."

"So that's what gave it away?"

"Well, that and the rumour. They had a thing before he met me. It's over now, or it was." A single tear rolls down her cheek. She wipes it away quickly, seemingly irritated at herself. You frown. Sejeong has no reason to be ashamed of being hurt. She should be allowed to shed tears, even buckets full if necessary. You wouldn't judge. "At least that's what he said. He promised me it was over. But... God."

You reach forward to wipe the tears from her cheeks. Her lips tremble, so you quickly move your eyes back up. Staring at her lips is dangerous territory.

"You don't deserve this shit," you say resolutely.

Sejeong chuckles sarcastically. "Then why do I keep ending up here?"

That question stings. Not because it's directed at you—it isn't—but rather because you know the answer. Sejeong has been in this kind of position too many times to count. She attracts guys like honey does flies; every single time, with no exceptions. Only the worst seem to make it past the rest. Sejeong gets caught in their deceitful net time and time again, only to inevitably break her heart after months and months of manipulation disguised as devotion.

"Want my honest answer?"

"Yes."

"I think it's because you're the sort of person that believes the best in everyone. And that is a beautiful trait. I love that you do that. I really do. But sometimes..." you trail off, not quite sure how to continue without sounding accusatory.

"Sometimes I get screwed over," Sejeong finishes. You nod in response. "You're right. I guess it's my fault for trusting too easily."

"No," you shake your head. "It's not your fault. That part is absolutely wonderful. It's just..." You're suddenly hesitant. What if Sejeong takes this the wrong way and shuts you out?

"What?" she probes.

"Have you ever heard the expression 'you can't see the tree for the woods'?"

"Sounds stupid."

"It means you can't see what's right in front of your nose," you explain.

Sejeong stares at you for a long time. You think she understands, but it's impossible to know. It would probably be better that way—if she understood and did nothing about it. You aren't supposed to feel this way about her. How many times haven't you imagined what it would be like if things were different? If circumstances were perfect, if her current guy hadn't appeared out of anywhere and swept her off her feet before you'd even realised what was happening.

But that's just your luck.

"Thank you," Sejeong whispers. "Can we, um, watch something? I don't wanna think about this right now."

You let out an awkward cough. "Yeah. Yeah, of course. Do you remember when you forced me to watch Twilight, and I spent the entirety of the movie complaining about how terrible it was?"

"You still watched all of them with me." A tiny grin appears on her face. Thank God.

"That was truly the highest form of torture," you joke. "I hope you brought something better today. Please don't tell me you downloaded another movie about sparkly vampires."

Sejeong punches your arm. "I'll have you know I am extremely cultured nowadays."

"Yeah? Show me then."

A couple of hours pass and everything feels decidedly normal. You rest against the arm of the couch and Sejeong rests against you. You make jokes at the expense of the film as you always do and she laughs that soft, carefree laugh of hers. The credits roll and Sejeong sits up, stretching her limbs like a cat after a nap. You smile at the familiarity of it all. For a moment it doesn't matter what she has—or hasn't—been crying over.

"I'm tired," she says. She blinks slowly as if to prove it to herself. It's quite endearing, actually.

"Yeah?" you ask nonchalantly.

"Will you let me stay here tonight?" Her voice is small, unsure. But why? It's not the first time she has stayed here. This place is practically a second home to her.

"Like you need to ask," you retort lightly as you stand up and look down at her.

She opens her mouth to speak, but that's when her phone rings. When she sees his name flashing across the screen, she visibly freezes. Annoyance seeps into you like acid rain. His nerve—to call at such an hour, and expect her to pick up. Sejeong just watches, almost paralyzed, until eventually, she does pick up.

"Hey," is all she says. The reply is much longer. You can't make out the words he's saying but the tone tells you all you need to know.

"I was going to," Sejeong replies tersely. Silence. Then: "I told you already, I went over to—" Pause. She swallows thickly. "You didn't tell me you were going out." A longer stretch of silence, during which his voice gradually increases in volume. Suddenly Sejeong sits bolt upright. Her eyes grow wide with confusion and disbelief.

"Me!?" She shouts. "He's my best friend! I wouldn't—" Another pause. She takes a deep breath. "No. No, that isn't fair. You can't—"

It sounds like he hangs up. Sejeong doesn't move. Her hands are shaking violently.

"Do I even wanna know?"

"I should go home," she murmurs flatly.

"To him? To the guy who's probably just fucked his co-worker?"

Sejeong turns to glare at you, eyes cold as ice. You immediately regret your words.

"I'm sorry," you quickly amend. "That was uncalled for. It's none of my business. I shouldn't have said that."

"Why?" she asks bluntly. Your heartbeat picks up in a hurry. There's anger in her eyes. Anger that could turn against you so quickly.

"Why what?" you reply defensively.

"Why don't you wanna be with anyone? You've rejected every single person who's tried to get close to you since we were sixteen. There's got to be a reason."

The world grinds to a halt. Time, space, and life itself stop existing for a minute while you consider your options. On the one hand, you could lie; come up with a suitable excuse and maybe she won't push for more. On the other hand, you could simply admit to the truth that's haunted you for years.

You open your mouth. Close it. Fuck.

Sejeong stands up, wading in the silence towards you. You can't help but take a step backwards. In that split second, you're sure she knows—and yet you cannot tell.

"Have you ever loved anyone?" Sejeong demands to know.

Your heartbeat roars in your ears. "I don't understand why you're asking me this," you choke out. A part of you wishes you were back there on the cliff. At least then you could've jumped off of your own accord, with a little dignity left intact.

"I need to know," is all Sejeong says. Her gaze is relentless. You hate it. It makes you want to claw your own skin off—and there are truths under there that you plan to take to the grave.

"Why?"

"Because I need to know if what I'm going to do next is the right thing."

She stands beside you now. On the edge of that cliff, though it's starting to feel more like you're on the roof of your car. Staring up at the stars on some forgotten summer night. The jump seems more like a flight.

"I have," you admit. Somehow it seems easier than to try and fight whatever force is controlling the both of you. It feels strangely liberating.

"But you won't allow yourself to do anything about it." You know her well enough to discern a question from a statement, no matter how carefully she might try to veil them as the latter.

"It's complicated," you say quietly. She's so close to you now that you can hear the hitch in her breath. Why is she pushing this? "Why are you doing this?"

Her eyes flit from yours to your lips, then back again. So quickly. One, two. But you saw it. And your entire body tingles in anticipation. You'll dare move away—not now, not when the leap of faith feels more like a hop.

She doesn't say anything else. One more small step and her body collides with yours. Lips press against lips and suddenly, all thought scatters. Sejeong tangles her fingers through your hair and pulls. A gasp escapes you before you regain control and kiss her properly. It's frantic, rushed. Years of pining bleed out with every touch. You grab her, pull her as close to your body as possible, and lose yourself completely. Something is swelling inside you. A feeling so large and uncontainable that you think your chest is going to explode any second.

It is indescribable.

All of it—the sensation of kissing her, holding her—surpasses description. You're falling from that cliff, but she's holding you, and before you can hit the rocks she's dragging you to the couch and climbing on top of you.

It feels unreal. The entire world disappears as your lips find hers again and again and again. You don't care to question what happens after. This moment is yours, forever branded in your memories, and nothing can take that away from you. Even if it ends here—even if she were to walk away now—it would've been worth it. Completely and irrevocably.

When you finally part to catch your breath, you can't help but stare at her in awe. She's so beautiful. A masterpiece. Your hand moves to her cheek almost automatically. Sejeong lets her head fall against it with a soft sigh.

"Wow," she whispers.

"Yeah," you croak.

"Please don't regret this in the morning." Her voice is so quiet, filled with so much pain, that it breaks your heart. Your own fears are secondary.

"I never could," you breathe. Then you lean in to kiss her again, slower this time, savouring every sensation as if it might be the last. By some miracle she responds eagerly, fingers wrapping around the collar of your shirt as she holds you steady. You have no idea where this leaves the two of you, but you want her closer—now. You reach around and slide your hands under her thighs, pulling gently upwards. She follows your lead, settling against your lap in a way that makes the situation undeniably real.

As you kiss, her hips start moving back and forth. Soft, shallow movements. Little whimpers escape her throat and fall directly into your mouth. Fuck. She moans—actually moans—into the kiss and a violent shiver travels through your whole body. You break away momentarily to look at her face, flushed cheeks and half-lidded eyes staring back at you.

"Do that again," you whisper against her lips.

"Make me," she pants.

The next kiss is searing, open-mouthed, and accompanied by Sejeong grinding her hips against you. Harder now. Unrelenting. Your hands travel up her waist, slipping beneath her blouse to feel warm skin underneath. You feel every tremble of her body when your fingernails drag lightly across her flesh. A gasp—then she leans backwards, with her arms outstretched and clinging behind your neck, to look you dead in the eye as she continues moving her hips against you.

"Sejeong... What are we—"

"Shh."

Your hands snake further up her shirt. Her back arches in response as she grinds down hard, moaning loudly. Your eyes flutter shut briefly to enjoy the sensations—the sounds—coming from her. You force them open once more because you can't miss this show for anything. You push the shirt up and over her chest. Her hands slip from behind your neck momentarily so that you can get the garment over her head. And then she is there before you, bra and sweatpants-clad, panting softly and waiting.

"Sejeong—"

"Fuck me." It is barely more than a whimper, but it rattles the very core of your being.

"What?"

She lunges forward and kisses you forcefully. There are tears in her eyes—tears you didn't notice until now. Her desperation bleeds through.

"Please," she whispers into your mouth, her voice breaking slightly. "Please."

You can't deny her. How could you? You're unfastening the clasp of her bra and your hands are everywhere on her. Pulling her closer, exploring every inch of bare skin you can get your hands on. Her fingers start unbuttoning your shirt—clumsily, but getting the job done. Once open, her nails dig into your bare shoulders, as if testing out whether you're really here, tangible and real. As if you could disappear at any moment and leave her stranded. A loud groan escapes her when your fingers brush against her nipples.

"You're so fucking beautiful," you murmur into her ear. She whines at the words, nails digging deeper into your skin.

The friction between your legs is driving you mad. You've got the burning urge to pick her up and slam her into the nearest wall, but you savour what you have. First, you kiss her neck, then it's a trail down her collarbones. Your teeth nibble playfully at the skin until she moans, begging you to do something. You obey, leaning in to flick your tongue across a nipple before swirling it around the bud. Her fingers fly into your hair and hold you against her breast.

"Holy shit."

Your mouth latches on tighter. Sucking. Biting. The heat pooling between you grows more intense. Eventually, you detach and move on to the next, eliciting more delicious sounds from the girl above you. All those nights spent fantasising about exactly this don't come close to the real experience. You're supporting her, around the waist and the small of her back, while she leans back in your lap, presenting herself to you.

You appreciate every inch of her slender figure. By eye and then by tongue. You draw constellations along her skin, your touch is feather-light. Across her toned stomach to her hips, then right up the side of her body. She throws an arm above her head and giggles lightly as you lick all the way up underneath it. You follow a path to her armpit. Sejeong giggles more when you begin to nibble there too. When you raise your eyes to meet hers she blushes fiercely.

"Weirdo."

"Just appreciating you," you murmur, pressing soft kisses against her shoulder and up to her neck.

"Mm. I like it," she replies hoarsely.

So you spend some time like this. Appreciating her bare body and making her squirm. Kissing, licking, and biting everything that you can possibly reach until her writhing becomes borderline violent. Then she grabs a hold of your jaw, looks you deep in the eyes, and utters the most sinful words you've ever heard her say.

"Enough teasing. I want to ride your cock now."

Every inch of you lights on fire. From your forehead to the tips of your toes, you feel flames lick at your insides. Sejeong climbs off you without another word and starts pushing her sweats from her hips. You watch, spellbound, as she wiggles out of them. Her panties follow suit.

Then she turns to face you. Standing fully nude, absolutely breathtaking in every sense of the word. A goddess. Every bit as perfect as you had imagined. Even your fantasies weren't this good; nowhere near as intoxicating as this moment right now.

"You have ten seconds before I sit on your face instead," she deadpans, you both laugh. At least she hasn't lost her humour.

You unbuckle your belt and shuffle them down as best you can while still seated. Enough that she can reach down and pull your cock free from its confines. Your eyes roll to the back of your skull when she wraps her slim fingers around it. Pumping up and down. You're hard already, unbelievably so, and when she drags her thumb across the head of your dick it actually twitches. You suck in a deep breath, willing yourself to focus.

And then she sits on your lap, sliding along the length of your cock. Fuck. She repeats it a few times. Back and forth, slicking your cock with her wetness.

"I always pictured this," she admits.

"Really?" you croak.

"God yeah, I remember back in college. I must have rubbed one out to you more times than I can count." She smirks at you then—a wicked smirk that makes your entire body shiver. A filthy admission to you and you only. She does it again, drags her wetness along you. How on earth are you supposed to remain composed when she says things like that and does things like this? You wrap an arm around her back and pull her closer, staring at her as if seeing her for the very first time.

"You can't say things like that, I'm gonna—"

She cuts you off with her tongue in your mouth. Kissing you like it's the last thing she'll ever do, and your lips the only form of sustenance she'll ever need. It gives way to her frantic little moan, desperate and unrestrained. For the life of you you can't comprehend what is happening, only react, and fuck if it isn't the most incredible experience you've ever had. Her skin is burning against yours, hungry and yielding to your every touch.

Sejeong shifts slightly and grabs a hold of you properly. Your eyes widen when the tip of your dick brushes against something wet, warm, and soft. The very centre of her. She repositions herself, now holding you carefully against her, and then... slides down the length of your cock, pausing halfway down. The pleasure is so acute that you cannot control the way your back arches off the couch, and neither do you control the profanities that spill out from your lips.

A sinful grin spreads across her face. As her legs are pinned around your waist, you cannot move, but Sejeong certainly can. And boy, does she know how. She starts bouncing herself up and down, riding you so expertly and looking so good doing it. You've thought of this so many times—having sex with your best friend, of all people—but you did not picture it like this.

"This okay?" she murmurs in your ear. You hear the smile in her voice.

You utter the only word you can muster: "Yes."

She laughs airily, placing a kiss on your temple as she continues her rhythm. When she moans—a long, drawn-out moan, half-pained, half-pleasured—and throws her head back, you stare up at her, eyes drinking in the beauty that is in a position so incredibly vulnerable yet completely in control. How you long to capture this moment and keep it somewhere safe forever. She looks down at you now. Her heavy-lidded eyes pin you to your spot as much as the physical manifestation of her pinned against your skin. She traces her fingers down your jaw, your neck, and the top of your chest.

"I wish he could see me now," Sejeong hisses, anguish evident in her voice.

"You look so fucking good."

"He doesn't know what he had," she laughs bitterly. "Fuck him."

"Fuck him," you echo. Sejeong smirks and moves her hips more fluidly. Goddamn. Her tight little cunt feels so perfect clenched around your cock.

She watches your face closely as she keeps riding you. As you keep clutching her hips and help her along, grinding deeper. Groaning when she throws her hips forward faster and faster. Her cunt is so hot and tight. She sucks at the life seeping out of your pulsating cock and squeezes it with her inner muscles in ways that no one has ever done before. Sometimes she pulls completely off you, her breath shuddering as you twitch, only to take you deep inside her again.

Your hands have a mind of their own, sneaking upwards to grip her neck. You give it a gentle squeeze, just enough to get her attention. All the while you're staring intensely into her eyes. They've become glassy, intoxicated, more than just wanting but longing for it. Her voice is hoarse, strained, as she says, "How have I been so stupid? All this time—you're right here, and I never—"

"It doesn't matter. None of that matters."

"You're so—fuck."

Her body trembles and she falls forward onto you. She's gripping your arms, nails sinking into your flesh. Sejeong's breath grows increasingly laboured. After a long string of expletives, she lets her head rest on your shoulder as you snake an arm around her back and support her. Her whole body is rigid, teetering on the edge of an orgasm.

"Never felt this good," she forces the words out amid moans as you buck your hips up into her, picking up the slack as she begins to falter. The rhythm is quick now, urgent, filled with unbridled passion and everything left unspoken for too long.

When Sejeong cums, you feel it all around you—her pussy quivering, leaking her arousal around you, dripping down your thighs and saturating you, almost drowning in the intensity. It makes her moan into the crook of your neck and rock her hips, fucking herself while trying desperately to quiet the sounds of her ecstasy against your body. But that is unthinkable, to silence someone like that, and you tell her so. Whispering the filthiest things in her ear as she throbs around your cock, dragging out the last tremors of pleasure of her orgasm as much as you possibly can. She spills everything out into your shoulder, every word, every whimper. Until at last, you can feel her sagging in your lap, breathing heavily and spent.

"Keep going," she pants, tightening her grip on your arm. "Don't stop."

She throws herself to the side, pulling you with her, and somehow lands flat on her back with your body on top of her. You wince at the sudden shift. But not for long. Because Sejeong opens her legs wide, hooks her calves around your hips, and tells you again not to stop.

You smirk and lean forward, trapping her beneath your body and capturing her lips in a sensual kiss. It is deliberate, lingering. Her arms fly up and tangle themselves through your hair, locking you together. When your tongues meet, you sigh deeply against her. There is a warmth settling over you. Languid, dream-like. Like you're both floating through clouds, carried away by the sweetest of breezes.

There is nowhere else in the world that you would rather be than right here, between her legs.

You rock into her, once, then twice, each time more intense than the last. The angle is entirely different. You grab a hold of one of her legs and hitch it up a bit, allowing yourself to thrust deeper inside her.

"Are you okay?"

"Mm. Move slower. Nice and slow," she instructs.

And you do. Eventually, a hand comes up to cup the nape of your neck. Sejeong stares into your eyes and your breath catches. Then you're kissing, again and again, but there is not so much desperation and anger anymore, but something else. It is the feel of her hips meeting yours, the way you press your bodies together, the softness of her lips and the taste of her mouth. Her breaths rush from her lips to yours, from hers into you.

Sweat starts to bead at your temples as you rock into her. Slow, deep, patient strokes. It is not desperate fucking anymore, or an attempt to pour all of your heartbreak into some meaningless action. It's almost reverential—the way you're holding each other, soft and sure. A sweet torture, a sublime suffering, for as long as time allows.

You don't talk. Your mouths say nothing, at least. With your bodies, however, your fingertips whisper praise against her skin. Spirits float free and serenade each other. Sounds escape her that you haven't even dreamed of. Broken, wanton, as if wrenched out of her. They rise above and meet in a higher plane of reality, where two minds are one.

It takes time. A slow build to the crescendo. You know when you've struck the final note by the way she cries out, over and over again, her pretty little hole convulsing, spasming around your cock. She wants to squirm away but has nowhere to go. You refuse to let her. You smile against her neck and sink your teeth into the skin there.

Soon you follow, groaning her name into the warm flesh. It's a flood—your insides are melting, pouring out from your loins and into her heat, her insides contracting, trapping every ounce inside. Hot, sticky, yours. This feeling. It is as if your heart has grown wings, a phoenix born anew from the ashes of who you used to be. You don't have to be lost anymore. She will carry you, always, her fingernails tracing patterns in your damp skin. There is nothing to fear.

Sejeong whines and moans softly as you fill her. One more careful thrust and you still, collapsing on top of her as the waves subside. All the while she is there, stroking the back of your neck and quietly reciting every piece of filth that she can think of.

You wonder whether this will last longer than the night.

God. Would you be okay with that?

When you eventually move back to look at her, to make sure she's okay, there are tears in her eyes. Uncertainty overwhelms you. Before you can react, before you can ask what is wrong, Sejeong cups your cheek. "Thank you," she whispers, eyes boring into yours with an intensity that takes your breath away. This girl. All these years. All the wasted time. It feels right being with her; everything is finally where it should have been all along.

"You were worth the wait," you breathe. You place a kiss against her brow before rolling off and settling next to her.

"Do you..." Her voice fades. She runs a finger along your collarbone, eyes anywhere but yours. "Do you want this to be a one-time thing?

"No," you answer without hesitation. You catch her hand in yours, entangling your fingers, willing her to understand everything that you're unable to tell her.

Sejeong smiles. Genuine, unapologetic. For the first time in months, she looks happy. Fuck him, indeed. "Good," she says with a soft laugh that evaporates any of her lingering doubts. Her eyes flick to your lips and she whispers, "So, uh, we've got some lost time to make up for."

"Yeah?" you whisper while rolling her back over and climbing over her. "If there's a debt to be paid..." You start trailing kisses down her neck, down her sternum, grinning at the tiny shivers it elicits. "What better time than now?"

Your kisses lead you over her toned stomach. Once you reach the juncture between her thighs, you pick up her leg and set it over your shoulder. Sejeong is already squirming, anticipating what is to come. You take a look at her—mussed hair and flushed cheeks, mouth slightly open, beautiful, tempting. It feels almost gratuitous—that you're able to see her like this. It makes you pull her even closer, and stick your tongue into her center. Her upper body lifts almost immediately and her eyes fly open. A shaky whimper leaves her lips.

She's right. There is a lot of catching up to do. Luckily for her, there's still the whole night ahead of you and a lot more you'd like to show her.

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