#edge writes

[raymans-boyfriend]

Murfy!

Desc: Murfy is feeling very affectionate today.

AO3

Gift for @greenbottle-kisser

A/N: This is short... as i had a lot of trouble writing for the little green pest.

The sun shined bright through the beautiful blue sky, the light hit the grass at just the right angle for it to shimmer. The trees leaves fell off, starting their journey through the wind.

You laid on the grass, your hair flowing in the cold Autumn breeze. It had been a slow, relaxing day.

Then.. Murfy flew over, but stopped when he saw you.

"Hey hottie!" He yelled as his tiny body flew into your lap.

You pet his head, and he purred rather loudly.

"Mmhhh.." He nuzzled into your chest, his cheeks becoming a deeper shade of green.

He calmly caressed your sides, putting some pressure on your hip. The feeling of his tiny hands on your waist increases your heartbeat. He notices, and a huge smirk appears on his face.

"Ohh.. look whos all flustered!" He teased, arising up to your face.

He starts to pamper your face with kisses. Making you laugh loudly, scaring a couple Lums away.

"Oops.."

"Its just a couple Lums..."

"But-"

"Shhhh.." He goes back to kissing you.. and that's all you did that night..

[jammed-out]

Hey if you're reading this right now, you should really think about touching yourself. Just a light little touch. Just enough to get you all worked up. Get that heat pooling between your legs. Get you all excited and worked up. Breathing heavy. Soft little moans. Dripping. Heart racing. Vision clouding. Mouth watering. Desperate. Needy. Aching.

Good. Now share this so everyone else can get all worked up too. And if you're really good, you'll keep touching, getting yourself all worked up. Because good edge sluts make more good edge sluts.

[xochimillilili]

Kinktober day 29: Edgeplay

It's so cute how pathetically desperate pups get when edged, all soft gasps and whimpers, so adorabley obedient and softly fuzzy brained. All fluff in their heads as they're given some good training.

It's so cute how whiny my pup gets when I'm stroking my cock right in front of them, kissing their soft lips with the precum coated tip of my cock, telling them all the ways I'd love to break them, how good I wanna make them feel. I adore how cutely they beg when I tell them to wait just a little longer, makes me wanna tie and strap some more toys onto them while their little puppy brain melts.

Come on puppyyy~ Keep going, I know you can, need you to be a cute blissed out little edge slut puppy for me a bit more. Awwww I know sweetie, I know, it's quite hard for such a little baby puppy... but how will you ever last long enough to take my knot then love? I want you to see the way I fuck and pop my aching knot into that tight little cunt of yours the whole way~

[tacticalprincess]

Bro… I love your writing sm. I need another/multiple docs about the Eiffel tower between Konig and Simon.. like imagine y’all are roommates and just causally fuck every weekend and get drunk lmao.

Need that in my life. Anyway. Have a great day and stay hydrated 🫶🏻

simon x afab!f!reader x könig

you’re all pleasantly buzzed and warm from distributing a bottle around between the three of you — though they may have skipped their turns a few times when you weren’t paying attention — and somehow it became your turn to be passed around their broad laps. they already have to restrain themselves from being all over you sober, but the more alcohol that passes through their system, the greedier their hands tend to get. not that you mind, your inhibitions lowered meant feeling especially touchy and horny, letting yourself bask in the feeling of being groped by and made out with by your two doting, giant men.

“i got first tonight,” simon heaves out, smiling at the way your kiss-swollen lips trail after his, the way you mewl cutely at the loss of contact. he pats your hip. “gotta break ‘er in and all that. ‘s been a while, hasn’t it, sweetheart?”

“you got first the last three times. don’t need you boring her to sleep before i get to her again.” könig brushes your hair out of your face gingerly, heart clenching at the way you drunkenly preen into his touch. “not that she’d mind.”

“think the phrase you’re lookin’ for is ‘wearin’ her out’…”

they’re talking about you like you’re not there, and it really should be degrading, but you like the fact that you can turn your brain off when they’re around, trusting them to take care of you, making all the decisions while you sit pretty and take what they decide to give you. at least until their arguing gets to be too annoying, and you’re forced to step in and put them in check.

“why don’t we ask her?” könig’s suggestion makes you tune back into their conversation.

simon hums in agreement like he just remembered you could talk. “who would you like first, darling?”

“mmm.“ you search your muddled brain for a coherent response under the overwhelming pressure from their undivided attention. the smell of strong liquor on their breath and heady musk radiating from their bodies clouds your senses, warming your abdomen. you glance between the two of them, vision a little fuzzy around the edges, and gasp suddenly, “why not both?”

they both raise a curious brow at each other. “bit late to prep you for anal, baby. gotta give us a notice.” an endeared laugh pushes its way out of simon’s throat.

“no… both of you here.” you giggle, moving his large hand from your hip to cup your mound through your panties.

könig curses in german under his breath, dizzy with how much of his blood rushes south as he adjusts his pants.

“standby, soldier.” simon shoots a warning glance at him like talking down a tiger ready to pounce. he looks down at where your hands connect just under your womb. “this little cunt can barely fit me, what makes you think she can take both of us at the same time?”

the gravity of your request doesn’t quite register for you as you shrug a shoulder, smiling. “‘m a big girl, si. you won’t break me.”

“sounds like a challenge, maus.”

[bluebellowl]

More Ingo in Hilda style because my crossover is taking shape. But only in my head. And yall only get fragments.

The short of it is, Ingo gets thrown too far into the future, ends up in Trolberg and lives in the forest outside the wall. He’s friends with the Bellkeeper and trades with the trolls.

[namisweatheria]

I feel like we don't discuss Nami's relationship with gender enough. Her entire character is so deeply informed by being a girl in a male-dominated pirate world and it's so interesting and so worth talking about.

The background creepiness of Bad pirate crews, which are most of them, how they tend to not have any female crew members at all, how they beckon any pretty young woman around to come play with them and join them. It's real bad. It's also like, a totally 2 dimensional portrayal of evil that is reserved for the most background of background characters.

However I think their ubiquity says a lot about how piracy is meant to be perceived by the public in One Piece, and is one of the strongest indicators of how prevalent misogyny is in-world.

It's very normal in One Piece for regular island inhabitants to have never met a Different class of pirate in their life. There's no reason for them to withhold judgement that maybe these pirates won't be like every crew that attacked before, and to wait and judge them by their actions. I mean frankly that would be irrationally weak self-preservation.

There are people who live peacefully under the flags of Yonkos who protect them, and feel loyalty and gratitude to them for it, but that seems to only be thing with very big name pirates. The East Blue, being the weakest and least populated, has no such plethora of powerful people and resulting turf wars.

So. Nami. Is very clearly implied to have never met any Different pirates before. I'm thinking about what that means. About how every group of pirates she stole from were creepy, dangerous men. How she started going out stealing when she was still a young child. How she didn't have a mother anymore to guide her or comfort her. How Arlong would grab her chin inappropriately, talk about her as a "human female", as property, and god knows what else.

How all the men in Arlong's crew treated her patronizingly, pretending they're all friends, teasing her and playing at respect when really not a single one of them ever stuck up for her or hesitated to accuse her of betrayal. Who were always ready to kill her if she refused to cooperate. Who grabbed her and intimidated her when they felt like it.

That's what she had to come back to after a close call with stealing from other predatory men, instead of the relief of home there was a dark, cramped room filled with endless hours of misery and isolation and blood. Where any one of her captors could barge in and demand new maps, work faster, where did you go, you took too long again this time. Endless threats and incursions.

I'm thinking about that her fight scene in Alabasta, where she tumbles and rips off her cape and uses it to catch her enemy's spikes, before leaping to her feet and running out the back door, all in one moment. How it makes her enemy reconsider her and think, "so the girl's not a total novice at fighting after all." What that implies about her experiences as a young thief. The times she wasn't fast or clever enough and had to fight and claw her way out. Why she always carried a staff and a knife. Why she was the only one before Chopper who had any medical knowledge or experience.

You know she was stitching herself up. And the weapons, how do you think she learned to use those? If any of the Arlong Pirates helped her it wasn't out of kindness and it wasn't gentle.

Then I think about Nojiko, and Bellemere's memory, and the only softness in a hard life. How easily Nami connects to every young woman experiencing hardship that she meets. How completely she dismisses the struggles of men unless they mean something to her and are going through something terrible. The way that Nami only has sympathy for women and children is easily noticeable in-text, but it's also something confirmed in those words by the author. And it's clearly because of the life she lived, the men who had all the power and only abused it, who saw her as nothing but a girl to take advantage of, without anyone aside from her sister clearly knowing and caring about any of it.

Nami clearly isn't bitter, she doesn't think the world owes her recompense, on the contrary she knows she is far from the only person in the world to suffer the things she has suffered. She is endlessly reaching out and kind, but only to those that she isn't sure would get help without her. Certainly, before Luffy, Usopp, and Zoro, no man ever reached out a hand to her without an ulterior motive.

I think when she sees a girl in trouble, a girl biting her lip to hold in a scream of grief, a girl running in the woods away from a monster, a girl captured by pirates, she sees someone who no one is coming for. Who no one will stick up for. A person without allies in a world against her. Whether it's actually true in this case or not, she runs straight for that girl anyways every single time.

[feyburner]

I loved LOVED a word, a look, will be enough. I’m obsessed with the way you write jason and tim. No pressure to answer this at all, but I was curious if you have a headcanon about how the missing spleen reveal eventually goes

Jay »

Good afternoon Timothy.

« tim

uh oh

Jay »

I just had a fascinating conversation with Doc thompson

Care to hazard a guess about what?

« tim

pollen season

Jay »

No.

« tim

bird flu

Jay »

Is there a reason you havent told anyone in your life that you dont have a fucking spleen?

« tim

okay first of all

i’m not sure why doc thompson felt the need to tell you my private medical information

pretty sure they have a rule about that

Jay »

It’s not her fault.

I mentioned that you got whammied with that stupid germ bomb from Typhoid Tony or whatever the fuck his name was

« tim

vik vyral

Jay »

And she got all serious and told me I should get you into the clinic asap, and I was like no he’s fine now, it was basically a 24 hour bug, and she was like no, theres no such thing as a 24 hour bug for him, he needs to come get his blood tested yesterday

And then she clearly realized I had no fucking clue what she was talking about and clammed up. Wouldn’t say a thing. Told me to ask you myself.

Jay »

The look she gave me when I said you slept it off and went back to work. Like I should know better. like I was letting you be careless and shit bc thats just how I am or something.

« tim

“letting” me?

Jay »

yeah. Letting you. I know you know what I mean

« tim

i’m not sure i do.

Jay »

When youre with someone you take care of them.

I dont pretend to know much about this shit but I know that.

I’m not talking about handcuffing you to the radiator. Im talking about knowing whats going on with you and knowing that sometimes you let shit slide that I wouldn’t. When it comes to you

You do that for me and the others all the time. Thats how it works.

« tim

doc thompson doesn’t know you’re “with” me

Jay »

If you think everyone doesn’t know exactly what’s going on then your detective skills need work

Jay »

Also, Jesus, Tim.

« tim

ok sorry, i didn’t mean the scare quotes part

but did you pause to consider maybe there’s a reason i haven’t told everyone other than whatever shortsighted masochistic bs you’re assuming

Jay »

I dont need you to tell everyone. I’m not asking you to write a report on it.

Just like. if there’s any other major medical shit can you maybe tell me

Before you fucking die of a sinus infection or whatever bc the asshole who lives with you didn’t know your immune system has the horsepower of a bicycle

« tim

did you know you curse more when you’re fronting like you’re not worried about me

Jay »

I’m actually not fronting! in this moment!

« tim

okay

well. i am sorry

that sounded sarcastic bc of who i am as a person

but it’s not. i mean it.

Jay »

Sorry for yelling at you

« tim

i dont wanna go into it over text but i’ll tell you tonight. okay?

about what happened.

also there’s nothing else. it’s just the spleen thing

ok?

Jay »

Okay.

« tim

well and the mango allergy

well. and i’m double jointed specifically bc i have joint-hypermobility syndrome

which is why im so flexible :)

but also why i dislocate things a lot :(

um and im mildly allergic to carrots, bananas, pineapples, and most legumes, but it’s fine they just make my tongue itch

i think that’s all

Jay »

Tim can you be honest with me for a second

« tim

yeah…

Jay »

Are you inbred

« tim

NSJDN/&2&jdj?!_£_??

Jay »

Like are you that type of rich person

You can tell me. We are not going to procreate so I dont mind either way

« tim

just scared the living shit out of an intern who had never seen me laugh before. i think she thought i was choking

jesus CHRIST

i will see you at home.

Jay »

You

didn’t answer the question….

[thatstoomanysausages]

Does anyone ever think really hard about Grian's inability to team? To stick with the same people he'd allied with at first after it shows the slightest hint of going downhill? Or about everyone's knowledge to be weary with teaming with Grian as he's notoriously disloyal with his teammates?

Cause the gutting thing is, he isn't. He isn't disloyal. He doesn't have an inability. In fact, I'd argue he is one of the few people who are tragically loyal to a fault, at least in most cases.

In Last Life, although he killed both Jimmy and Mumbo, he still felt the need to return to his allies after he'd turned red, feeling betrayed when they threw him out for being red. After that, he stuck with Joel and didn't dare betray him.

In Double Life, although he cheated on Scar and constantly complained, he stuck by Scar almost obsessively. His aim to protect him, even if he said it was for his own benefit, was painful. He didn't try to leave Scar behind like Cleo or Scott, he didn't try to sever the bond between him and Scar, nothing. It was almost like he was desperate.

In Limited Life, he was beyond loyal to his boys. He was loyal until the very end. And although he immediately switched to join the Nosy Neighbours, he didn't try to team with anyone permanently until Jimmy and Joel were dead. His silence when he realised he was truly the last Bad Boy was deafening. He hid his grief by saying that he had a backup team, just to save face, even though he built a gravestone for both boys and grieved them meaningfully.

In Secret Life, it wasn't as if he was fine with having no allied, like someone would be if they truly didn't care for loyalty, he was desperate once again. Having no teammates later in the game would hurt him, yes, but his desperation felt lonely, not power hungry. He didn't dare betray Etho nor Cleo, and stuck by them until the end. He was losing his mind on his hill before he teamed with the two, he needed to have close allies to depend on.

Now, in Wild Life, Mumbo is out of the series and Grian goes to say he needs to find some more friends, even with Skizz still around. Now, I don't think this is a power play thing, it's a desperation thing. He's hiding his grief by pretending everything is fine because if it wasn't he'd be vulnerable. For the past couple sessions, he had been working tirelessly to help get Skizz a kill so he could get off of being a red life, even to his own detriment.

Grian doesn't half ass teams. He will not team with everyone. However, he gets vulnerable when the ones that he connects to die.

Because that's how it went about in 3rd Life. He allied with Scar throughout the whole game, it starting simply because Grian felt guilty about what he'd done to Scar. He felt guilty. He stuck with him the whole game, undying loyalty, and all it ended in was him standing at the top with his best friend's blood drying on his hands.

To him, being loyal to someone like he was in 3rd Life ended badly. So, to avoid that, he found a way to still stay teamed with people, but not be left at the top of that mountain again, alone, even if his teammates die.

But so far, the curse keeps following him. He will always outlive his teammates. And this season is following the pattern, again, Mumbo dying right in front of his eyes, so close, yet so far. Always in a distance where he could've done something different, and he'd still have a teammate.

He may move from person to person, but only when they are dead or reject him. He is the forever Widow, cursed to always face his consequences, over and over and over again.

[teddybeartoji]

18+ mdni; gn!reader

toji teasing you with his dick/strap sucking skills.

he sits you down at the end of the bed while taking his place in front of you, his leg between your thighs. his navel is right at your eye-level and your mouth salivates. even though he's fully dressed, you can see his pants straining – he's so fucking hard and you just want to feel him. you want to push his shirt up, you want to drag your tongue over his happy trail, you want to listen to him hold back his little gasps and groans. teeth sinking into your bottom lip, you eagerly reach for his belt buckle but a hand on your jaw stops you.

"ya want it?"

gently, he guides your head up, forcing you to look at him in the eye. staring down at you, he does try to hold back a groan – you already look so fucked out and he hasn't even done anything. you nod at him, eyes blown wide and lips swollen from you biting down on them so hard.

toji's thumb draws a lazy circle over your cheek. "well, aren't ya sweet, hm?"

when he feels your hands trailing over his clothed muscles, your fingers digging into the material of his pants, he presses his thigh flush against your center, humming lowly as he watches your eyes fall shut at the contact.

"not today, though."

a small whine slips from your lips when you rest back on your hands, head dangling from your shoulders; perfectly displaying your neck and the few remaining marks from the nights from before. toji's eyes travel down from your throat and over your covered chest – of course, you're wearing one of his shirts. your collarbones peek from under the collar and a light sheen of sweat is already beginning to form all over your skin. toji licks his lips at the thought of running his tongue over the slopes of your body.

he puts some more pressure against the bulge in your own pants and watches your chest rise and fall with deep sharp breaths. "toji..."

he wants to ruin you so badly. he will never get sick of you saying his name like that, like a prayer, like a mantra – he's ready to give you all of him in return.

"look at ya..." he rumbles, his thigh slowly rocking back and forth against you. "s'desperate."

you can't stay still - your hips rolling against him, humping his leg like you're in heat but it's still not enough. "please..."

his low chuckle makes you loll your head forward. he looks sexy; standing tall between your legs, hair messy after a long day and a proud, hungry smile playing on his scarred lips.

"what do ya want, hm?"

"anything." he laughs at your needy answer, his chest rumbling like thunder as he nudges your thighs wider, fitting himself in the middle of them. he kneels down, so he's face level and you immediately push throw yourself over him. your hands snake around his neck, lips brushing over his. "everything...."

one of his own hands grabs at your waist, pulling you indefinitely closer while the other kneads your thigh. every time you try to kiss him, he pulls away just an inch; your breaths mingle together, lips grazing as his cologne fills your nostrils and his touch sets you ablaze. the need for him is growing and it's growing fast, the knot in your stomach tightening with every passing second.

"greedy little thing..." he whispers with a teasing tone and you nose at his cheek. your fingers play with the longer hair on the nape of his neck, combing through the locks, pushing his head closer to yours.

"please, toji..."

you feel him smirk against your cheek before he sits back on his legs.

"ya sound so cute like this." toji rests his elbows on your thighs, fingers tracing over the material of his shirt, over your abdomen and hips, until he reaches your waistband. "please, please, please..."

heat crawls on your body at his mocking, head dizzy from his touch. you don't have it in you to bark back at him, completely at his mercy – ready to take whatever he offers you.

he unbuttons your pants and taps on your thigh, telling you to stand up. and when you do, toji's nose brushes over your clothed belly button, making you buck into his face on instinct. your hands rest in his hair as he helps you out of the pants and underwear before letting you sit back down onto the bed.

you need him to touch you so badly that it's starting to hurt. your eyebrows furrow and you want to squeeze your thighs together to relieve the pain but the man in the middle stops you from doing that. he's just staring at you; taking you in – all of your little twitches, your hazy eyes, your heaving chest. oh, he's loving this.

"you're being so mean..."

he laughs. and you want to choke him. but before you can do that, or anything else for that matter – he leans forward, pressing a very faint kiss to your hip – so close and yet, so far from where you really need him. you mewl out and he pinches your waist. he's so close that his own abdomen is rubbing against your core and it's getting harder and harder to focus. you tug on his hair when he bites down into your soft flesh and pulls back with a mean grin. "yer so impatient..."

he grabs at the hem of your shirt and you raise your arms, letting him pull it off of your body. the scar on his lips finds the sensitive skin right below your jaw as he starts covering you in wet, open-mouthed kisses. he trails down from there, briefly licking and sucking your nipples, making your back arch up into him. he bites down to leave proud teethmarks on your skin as his big hands rest on your waist, kneading the soft flesh while you melt into him.

as he's getting closer and closer to where you actually need him, his hand slips from its place on your hip and you gasp when he starts rubbing at your inner thigh instead. with half-lidded eyes, you watch him lower himself back onto his legs and you buck into his hand again – your body has a mind of its own, you cannot think clearly anymore.

"this s'where you want me, yeah?"

his fingers trace around your crotch and you think you're going to explode from all of his teasing. hastily nodding, you beg with your eyes for him to finally touch you, to really touch you. he looks straight at you, flashing you a toothy smirk before cupping your balls, making your jaw fall slack. "soooo sensitive."

the eye-contact is making everything a thousand times better (worse) – his eyes bore into yours and it feels like he's planning on eating you alive.

"c'mon, gimme a kiss, sweetheart."

he doesn't need to say it twice because you're already lunging forward, pressing your mouth to his. he groans when you nip at his bottom lip – you want more, you need more. and he lets you have it.

your tongues dance together, swapping saliva like it's something you're supposed to do, all while his hand never stops massaging your sensitive skin. he's so warm and it feels so good and you want to forge the two of you together forever. you let your own hand slip between your bodies, desperately trying to guide him to your aching cock but he just grins into the kiss.

when you huff in disappointment and decide to wrap your own hand around yourself, he grabs your wrist and holds it down beside you. he presses another kiss to your lips and when he pulls away, a clear string of saliva keeps you connected.

he brings his free hand to your mouth and nods toward it. "spit."

toji lets out a hum as he watches it drip from your already wet lips and he twitches in his pants. without ever taking your eyes from you, he finally wraps his big fingers around your cock and devours the moan you reward him with.

your gaze flicks down to his hand, watching it slide up and down, the slick sound filling the room along with your quiet little whimpers and groans. every time he reaches the tip, he twists his wrist and tightens his fist, making you screw your eyes shut from the sensation. "ahh– fuck..."

"tell me how it feels."

"good, so fucking good. please– please, don't fucking stop." you stammer out. the words all slur together, the pleasure taking over your whole body. sweat dribbles from your temple and your fingers dig into the bedsheets under you.

you crack your eyes open just at the right time – when his pretty lips part and envelop the tip of your rock hard cock. he hums around you and you dig your fingers into his hair, tugging at the roots as a thank you. it's overwhelming – to let him take care of you like this. it feels special in a way, he doesn't do this with everyone.

he wants to make you feel good, he wants to show you his love.

he doesn't take his hand from you, keeping a firm grip on your base as he sucks on the tip. spit dribbles from the corners of his lips and he doesn't even try to hold it back – the messier the better. he pulls of with a little pop but dives right back in to drag his tongue all the way up from your balls. he does it a few times before getting sick of you trying to push his head closer to yourself (wonder who'd you learn that from).

taking your hands, he holds them against the bed. "no touching."

"bu- "

"touch me again and i'll stop."

his heart does a little flip in his chest at your little dumbfounded look – eyes wide and brows furrowed, hips twitching at the loss of contact.

"kiss me."

it's comes out like a demand and your own breath hitches, scared that he'll pull away completely now, but... he doesn't.

"ya want another kiss, hm? ya wanna taste yourself, is that it?"

the knot in your stomach tightens at his words and dumbly blink down at him, nodding your head. "yes, please..."

while still holding your hands to the bed, he lets you inch closer and press your swollen lips to his. a moan bubbles up from your throat and he swallows it with pride. toji pumps your cock with a steady pace, squeezing his fist every time he reaches the base. you taste so fucking good. and he tries to ignore the mess he's making in his pants purely from the act of getting you off. pre-cum stains the material of his boxers and he keeps twitching at every little sound you make.

this must be love, hm?

[raymans-boyfriend]

more suggestive Rayman x reader fic please!

Prison.

Desc: you and Rayman make out while in the Phantoms prison.

TW: VERY SUGGESTIVE.

You had found youself laying on an extremely uncomfortable bed, your back was aching. The room was made of cold, hard metal which made the entire room chilly.

Your body was dawned with Raymans bright purple hoodie. It was made by hand, with the most comfortable cloth.

But.. the thing you we're focused on was the man on top of you... Rayman. His tongue was caressing your mouth, and he was whimpering into your beck.

Ok.. so how did you end up in this situation?

The Phantom had trapped you and Rayman in a jail cell for a movie. Where Rabbid Mario and Rabbid Peach we're the main characters, attempting to save the both of you from the evils. However, he had genuinely trapped the both of you in a small cell.

He refused to let you two out, saying it would ruin the mood of the movie. Which made Rayman extremely pissy.

He banged against the metal bars, screaming.

"HEY! LET US OUT, BASTARD!" He yelled.

You sat on the bed nearby, watching your boyfriend be the most mad you have ever seen him. It scared you, quite honestly.

Your body then suddenly shivered violently, which caused Rayman to stop. He turned to face you, his eyes widening.

Rayman quickly rushed over to you, and he took off his hoodie to place it on you. The warmth was very comforting, you look up to thank him..

But you become speechless at the sight of his shirtless body..

He had a dad bod, but he was still muscular. Stretch marks dawned his stomach, the marks being a lighter color than his skin. His pecs were droopy, but that just made him even more attractive.

Your heart beat quickened. Damn.. he was hot!

Rayman looked down, his face now dawning a bright red colour.

"Yeah.. i know its not the hottest thing-"

"Youre the hottest person i have ever met.'

The both of you sit in silence, its deafening to your ears.

He then suddenly lifts you up, in a swift move. Rayman sits himself on the bed, placing you on his lab and he grabs your thighs.

"Is... is this ok..." He looks up at you sincerely, his love was very clear at this moment.

"Ye...yeah.." You avoid his gaze, but he makes your own fall on yours by grabbing your chin.

"ahh.. look at me.." He teased in a low voice, before leaning in and kissing your neck. His hot breath felt so good on your sensitive skin. His hands start to massage your thighs, trying to get a reaction out of your mouth.

And when he got what he wanted, a small wimpier, he smirked against the crook of your neck.

"Mmmhh... Yeah... Yeah.."

He then pinned you down to the bed and started to kiss you passionately. At first it was just his lips caressing yours, lingering lovingly.

After a few minutes, his rough tongue is seeking entrance into your jaw. You let him in, his tongue tasted of fruits and your eyes close shut once again.

You're so lost in his gentle caresses.. That you jolt when you feel his cool hand on the small of your back, and you pull away for a second.

"Mmmm.. Sorry hon.." He kisses your forehead, his lips drawing out on your forehead.

Yet, you let him knead your back, and he goes back to smooching your lips.

Suddenly, your make out session is disturbed by Rabbid Mario and Peach breaking into the cell.

"Dont worry! Rabbid Mario is here to save- ARE YOU HAVING-"

The red hatted Rabbit stopped in his tracks, his eyes widened.

"Oh- OH!" He covered his face with his giant mental hands, trying to avoid the situation in front of it.

Beep-o floated in soon after, his LED screen showing a concerned expression.

"WoooAAAAhhhh!"

Rabbid Peach took out her phone, and promptly took a picture.

"OMFG!!! RAYMAN IS IN LOVE WITH Y/N!!! #LOVE#LOVEISREAL#RAYMANISINLOVE!"

Raymans face was red as a beet, and he buried his face into your chest. You tried to comfort him, but then the Phantom came in.

"Ugh.. Who gave me the AWFUL idea of leaving the love birds be in a prison cel by themselves!"

Before Beep-o could respond, The Phantom cut him off.

"Ah... Thats right! Mine! My brilliant mind! Maybe i should question it more.."

----------

It was later in the night, you and Rayman cuddled in your shared hotel room. The bed was big and comfortable, the sheets being made out of the finest cloth.

However, your attention was the crying mess that was your boyfriend in your arms.

Rayman was whimpering loudly, he had gone non verbal due to all the overwhelming emotions. Being caught caused him to have a meltdown, all the eyes on him stressed him out too much.

"Shhh.. shhh.." You pat his head, your voice is soothing.. as not to upset him further, and it seemed to work.

His water filled eyes looked up at yours, a glint of happiness appearing in them.

"Tha-Thank you.."

"You're welcome.."

[jammed-out]

The point of edging yourself isn’t to benefit you. It’s so that when I finally let you cum, I can watch your brain break in real time. All those denied orgasms crashing into you, breaking you, turning you into a dumb drooling mess that’s lost in the pleasure. So how about it? Want to edge for me?

[xochimillilili]

So fucking dumb and fuzzy brained right nowww, I just want a pretty boy to grope me all over, teasing me and pinning me against the kitchen counter. Telling me to be a good boy and concentrate on my cooking, that I'll get a reward later if I do a good job as he edges me with a wooden spoon, smacking my cunt everytime I start to whine

I wanna be a blushy mess of moans and giggles for him as they switch between making cheesy jokes and threatening to fuck my mouth, as he grips onto my hips and marks me as his

[netegf]

Hate It When You Leave

pairing: f!reader x rafe cameron

plot: you are trying to cope with the fact that you're hopelessly in love with your best friend. he's trying to cope with the fact that you don't go after the things you want... including him.

warnings: 18+, best friends to lovers trope, use of Y/N, mentions of alcohol and past drug use, non-graphic references to violence, some angst & jealousy, fluff and smut (public sex, teasing, oral female receiving)

word count: 6.5 k

There are parts about wearing your heart on your sleeve that no one ever talks about.

For instance, that it's hard to fix your face when the threads keeping that heart together feel like they're getting tugged, cut, and re-bunched into an ugly knot. 

The water bottle you're holding hardly has any life left. Even Kelce comments as much when he rounds his kitchen island, limbs swinging and loose thanks to the red Solo cup in his hand. He takes one look at the tight smile on your lips and tilts his head to the side, fingers twitching upward to your chin as he turns your head to face him. 

"What's going on in that pretty head of yours?" He asks, voice a little slurred, but thick with concern.

That was Kelce. Polarizingly good at getting to what someone was hiding underneath. 

But appearances went a long way for him. And he was so agreeable, it made him easy to lie to. Especially when he and Topper had practically begged you to come to this party, his first one since graduating college. Everyone would be there, he'd said.

And he was right, they were. 

"Nothing, Kels, it's just my stomach being a little funny." You tell him with a renewed sense of enthusiasm. You gaze at him warmly and quirk a brow, smiling genuinely. "How do you always know?"

"We've known each other our whole lives!" He barks in a laugh. "There's nothing I don't know about you."

You feel your heart squeeze again, like there's a too-tight belt around it. But you humour him with a sweet giggle and convinced nod, and it's all Kelce needs before he's walking away to mingle with another. 

How shocked he'd be to know that there was something you were hiding. 

You keep the water bottle you're holding close to your body as if it would fall straight out of your hands otherwise. When you watch the brunette seated next to Rafe on the couch squeeze his bicep again, you think it might just fall anyway. 

Some things don't change. 

The sun goes up and down. The moon makes a nightly appearance. Kelce never dresses for the weather. Topper claims everyone else is cheating when he loses. 

You love Rafe Cameron.

"Fucking sucks, doesn't it?" A voice rings next to you.

You slowly turn your head from where you're sitting on the kitchen island to see a familiar face lounging on one of the high-chairs. 

Topper, apparently, had always had an inkling. 

"I don't know what you're talking about, Top." You grumble, casting your eyes away from the blonde protagonist of most of your dreams. Some of your nightmares, too. 

You watch as Topper rolls his eyes without so much as glancing at you, a small scoff escaping his lips. He takes a hearty sip from his cup of brown liquid. Tracking his eye-line, you're unsurprised to find that he's staring wistfully at the very same blonde's sister. 

Sarah Cameron is dancing in the corner of the room with John B., her boyfriend. 

A Pogue at a Kook party... the thought still makes you skeptical.

Not because you didn't like John B., or more accurately, like him for Sarah. But because a few short years ago, all this seemed entirely impossible.

Nonetheless, Sarah was important to all of you. 

And, like she'd said, Rafe listened to you better than he did anyone else.

When you explained to him how smitten his sister was with the boy, and considering how their relationship had endured far past those murmurings of 'young love' to, what was at this point, years together, he'd begun to understand that John B. wasn't going anywhere. 

Much to Topper's devastation. 

He promised he was over her, and he dated like it, too. But there were those moments where he had a few drinks in him and it made you think otherwise. 

"Oh, okay. My fault." Topper replies sarcastically, downing what's left in his cup and finally turning away from the couple he's burning holes through. "I thought we were being honest."

"I am being honest."

He glances at you sharply. 

"Uh huh. Hey, don't freak out, but, your nose is like, growing really long. Never seen anything like it before. It's like in that movie! What's it called, again? Puppet boy? No, that can't be right..."

"Very funny, Topper." You say dryly, but the hint of a smile on your lips sells you out and he chuckles next to you. 

"I was thinking Pinocchio." He fake recalls, nudging your elbow. 

This time, you laugh with your chest, and when you lift your head up to take it all in again, your eyes meet familiar blue ones from across Kelce's living room.

By now, you know how to mediate the warmth that blooms at the base of your spine and consumes you completely. 

There's a comfortable silence between the two of you before Topper starts speaking again. 

"You know he would do anything for you, right?" 

You chew on your bottom lip, still holding eye contact with Rafe who gives you a crooked smile. The girl next to him leans in to whisper something in his ear. He keeps looking at you. 

"Yeah, I know." You mumble half-heartedly. "I just feel like I might need to cut my losses at this point." 

Topper frowns for a moment, then stands up from his seat. 

"Well, you suit yourself." He pinches your cheek affectionately. "Because I, for one, want to crash and burn."

You snort at Topper's words and just as quickly watch him round the kitchen counter to grab another drink. 

Preoccupied with the way he extends that gesture to you, fixing some gross concoction of different sodas for you to sip on, a shiver rolls over your skin when it feels like Rafe's smouldering eyes are still lighting a fire on your face. 

Aron Andersen is a douche, but he means well. 

At least, that's the excuse you aways placate Rafe with when Aron inevitably runs his mouth, the blonde's fists tightening nearly every time in conjunction.

Typically, you opt for the pacifist approach because blood is a bitch to clean, Rafe whines when you clean him up with saline, and frankly, Aron isn't worth it.

But tonight, he seems to enjoy testing your threshold for patience like no one else before him. 

You suppose he's not entirely to blame. Kelce makes his drinks strong, and half of Figure 8 is sucking up all the oxygen in the room.

Maybe that was why Rafe had almost swung on John B. only a few minutes prior, claiming the younger man was feeding his sister lies about him. Perhaps it was just one of those nights. 

Still, you sigh when Aron drunkenly makes his way over to your new spot in the backyard, and press your lips tight together when he shoves a beer in your direction.  

"I'm not drinking tonight, Aron." You tell him plainly. 

Aron haphazardly plops down into the lounge chair next to you with his glossy, red eyes narrowing.

He grudgingly pulls the beer back from you and takes a sip that pools around the sides of his mouth, then drains down his throat slow and loud. 

"That sucks. You're more fun when you do." He scoffs.

Your mouth falls open as the words leave his lips, head spinning to meet his annoyed gaze. The faraway look in his eyes makes you gulp.

In no particular mood to be berated, you have half a mind to scoff back and get up to leave. But there's something about the way he speaks completely unadulterated that keeps your body locked in place.

Like you're dying to know what someone really thinks of you.

"Why not?" He presses, gesturing with his finger accusingly. 

"I'm driving."

He continues to stare at you blankly.

"I'm driving." You reiterate, irritation seeping into your tone. "And drunk driving is illegal, Aron. You do know that, right?"

Unintentionally, your eyes flicker to a slightly rowdy and staggering Topper across the room. Aron zeroes in on that and rolls his eyes emphatically. 

"Now it makes sense. You're taking your boyfriends home." He pitches the word in a scornful taunt, squinting over your shoulder. "Where is Cameron, anyway?"

You feel your heartbeat rage in your chest, tongue numb and mind in disarray. 

"Don't be a dick, Aron. They're my friends." You bristle. But he seems unfazed, lazily quirking an eyebrow. 

"Please don't tell me you're that stupid, Y/N. Friends?" He laughs obnoxiously. "I get you're in love with the guy, but you run around for them like a maid. You ask me, the least you should be getting out of it is a good fuck."

Your fingers twitch at your side as you shoot up from your seat, really and truly considering that pouring his beer over his head might be the best option.

Given that Aron routinely takes up two parking spots to park his Range Rover and cheats on his girlfriends, you think it might be a long time coming. 

His words hurt for more than one reason. Of course, because he'd sooner die than recognize that you very much could maintain a healthy, platonic, and meaningful relationship with your friends of over a decade.

But also because, when it came to Rafe, he was goading you with a kind of intimacy you knew you'd never be able to access. At least not in the way you wanted. 

When a firm hand grips Aron's shoulder strongly and whips his body around, you soon realize you don't have to resort to such a physical display. 

While it was true that Rafe's face didn't make him look particularly kind, he'd only been seriously pissed off, to the point that his stomach felt like caving in on itself, a few times. Like in those months right after he'd graduated high school and felt like a big question mark. Every time his dad looked at him disapprovingly, it affirmed that sinking feeling in him, and he learned that he sometimes articulated his sadness in anger.

These days when he's mad, he mulls the feeling over a few times in the interest of scraping for another feeling underneath. 

Now, though, all Rafe feels when he meets Aron's arrogance with an intensity of his own, is unbridled rage. 

"What the fuck did you just say?"

Rafe speaks at a low register that makes your breath quicken. His movements are a little clumsy, blue eyes slightly glazed over, and his dirty blonde hair kisses his forehead that's speckled with sweat. Cheeks dusted red in that way that you love, more prominent when he's inebriated.

His fingers are still pressing harshly into Aron's shoulder, pressure concentrated and steady if the way he winces is any indication. For a second, his eyes flit over to you and the frown on your face, and they begin to soften. But then Aron is sputtering and stealing his attention and he hates him all over again for it. 

"My bad, bro." Aron offers lamely, hands jutting upward in surrender. He attempts to step away, but Rafe keeps him locked there. 

"Yeah, it's your fucking bad, bro." Rafe sneers.

He roughly shoves Aron backwards as he lets go of him and the man quickly scurries away knowing that if he sticks around, Rafe will probably force him through clenched teeth to apologize to you.

You feel your heart hammering in your chest for a different reason.

Your mind is trapped in a loop, repeating every word you said to Aron over and over again, wondering how incriminating they were, and debating how much exactly Rafe had heard.

And if he had, if he was coherent enough to either dismiss or believe the accusation that you loved him. No, not love, you shudder... in love. Aron had said, verbatim, that you were in love with him. 

"I would've handled it." You mumble with your arms crossed over your chest.

Rafe sighs as he turns his body to face you, rubbing a hand over his jaw, now partially relieved of the tension it was holding. He chews on his bottom lip cautiously, like it'll help break the fall of the words bound to spill out of his mouth, a little too unrestrained in his drunk state for his liking. 

"I know that." He nods slowly. "I just wanted to help to help you... handle it."

He stumbles a little as he moves toward you and you instinctively wrap an arm behind his torso, holding him against your body as a human splint. 

"Plus, I kinda have a reputation going for me. No one's losing their shit if I fight a guy."

"Or two." You say pointedly, thinking about his almost altercation with John B. earlier in the night. 

Rafe buries his head into your shoulder, groaning loudly into the bare skin as it heats up and vibrates. 

"Fuck, not you, too."

He lifts his head up to continue, and you lug his body towards the living room where you spot Topper talking with Kelce and some others. Without speaking, Topper seems to understand what you're saying, nodding then pointing to himself followed by the stairs. 

He'd driven you to Kelce's and you promised to stay sober and drive him back home. But now, it seemed like the plan was going to shift.

Topper would stay the night at Kelce's and take his car back in the morning. You would take Rafe's truck back to his place and walk the rest of the way. You were practically neighbours, anyway. 

"If she wants to talk shit about me to her boyfriend, that's one thing. But him, talking shit about me, to her? What's he trying to do? Turn my own sister against me?" 

"I get it, Rafe. I really do." You nod, an amused smile on your lips as you tug him out of the front door and towards his truck. "But you promised Sarah you'd be nice, remember?"

"I am being nice." He protests with his hands tapping at his chest. "I didn't even fucking touch him."

You scoff lightly as you strap Rafe in his passenger seat, noting the way his eyes begin to flutter shut. Humming softly, you poke a cold finger at his cheek and watch as they blink open again. 

"I'm taking you home, okay?" You murmur gently. 

"No!" He objects, large hand circling your wrist. He rubs his forehead with the other one, trying to remember something. "Got a meeting in the morning. Ward is gonna flip if he thinks I've been out all night fucking around."

You look at him uncertainly, waiting for the thing that you don’t want him to say, but know he will.

"Your house? Please?"

There was a time when sleepovers with Rafe were a common practice. Sometimes, after parties like this, with Kelce and Topper.

Other times when you convinced the boys to binge a new movie or TV series, usually ending with at least two of them falling asleep. Rafe made a habit of grumbling his critiques of the things he watched, but always stayed up with you. 

For a while, when he hit an especially rough patch with his dad and spent more nights than he would've liked getting high out of his mind.

As much as he'd tried not to pull anybody else into it, he found himself seeking comfort in the warmth of your bed. It helped that you always received him with open arms, even when his early morning phone calls were disorienting and he cried silently into your shirt in the hours after. 

Those nights felt so distant, and yet, like you could touch them if you reached out just far enough.

Rafe had girlfriends on and off, and sometimes that version of him felt like a stranger. You felt a strange pity for yourself when you realized that it might've been a good thing. That he was getting better and without falling back on a crutch, even if that crutch was you. Suddenly, him sleeping at your house felt weird and misplaced more than anything else. 

"I don't know, Rafe...," you begin to trail off, but the blue desperation in his eyes makes you reconsider. He's still holding tenderly at your wrist. "Fine. But if you puke on my sheets, you're done. Do you hear me?" 

Whether or not Rafe hears you is unclear, but you take the delirious smile forming on his lips as a non-verbal affirmation. He huffs out a long breath as if he can feel himself finally relaxing. His eyes start to close again, too, as you start his truck and drive the short way to your house. 

"Don't even think about falling asleep on me, Cameron. I am not lugging you up the stairs."

"You're strong." He reasons smoothly, lids still shut as he smirks. "You were about to deck the shit out of Aron Andersen when I found you."

Getting Rafe up to your bedroom goes better than you'd imagined, now with a few years of experience under your belt. 

You get him to sit down on your bed, and he fiddles with the items on your nightstand while you rummage through your armoire for an old pair of his pajamas. He complains when you throw him a pair of sweatpants and a sports t-shirt he used to wear in junior high, claiming that it'd be too tight over his arms and chest.

Plus, he'd added, it was far too hot to be wearing a shirt, anyway. 

"I love these." 

Changing into sweats of your own, you exit the bathroom to find Rafe sitting up in your bed, part of his bare torso obscured by your white sheets. His attention is fixed on a small group of rings on your bedside table, silver and gold hues reflecting under the dull rays of your lamp.

He slowly picks one up.

"Yeah, I'd hope so." You snort, tentatively slipping into bed next to him and painfully aware of the sorry excuse for space between you. "You got them all for me... kook."

Rafe cracks a sleepy smile, rolling his eyes playfully.

"You wouldn't tell me which one you wanted." He shrugs like it's the simplest thing in the world. 

He sets the ring back on the table and switches off your lamp, blanketing the room in a stroke of darkness. Rafe lies on his back and you opt to turn to your side, facing the wall.

Looking at his face only a few inches away from yours, when he's about to sleep in your bed, feels like it will be too much. 

"Asking for what you want is weird, Rafe. Nobody likes it."

You chew on your bottom lip in the dark.

"I do." He says in a scoff that turns into a yawn. "How else is anyone gonna know? People don't usually stop you and beg to find out."

You swallow roughly. That was true enough, they didn't.

But Rafe did. He always did. You revered him for it.

There's a long silence between you and all that echoes against the wood framing of your bed are the heavy and sometimes irregular sounds of your and Rafe's breathing.

Against your better judgement, you think he might've fallen asleep and almost turn around to check. 

"Is it me?" He asks quietly, voice scratchy with exhaustion. "... what you want?"

You feel your shaky breath hitch in your throat. 

"Because if it is... you don't have to ask."

His words linger in the air for as long as it takes your wildly beating hard to calm down.

By the time your body regains some feeling, the sound of Rafe's soft snores pierce the oddly crisp air clouding your room, and the choice to unpack what he said right now, or in the morning, is made for you. 

A shiver runs down from the nape of your neck to the tips of yours toes. 

Rafe is gone by the time you wake up.

The harsh but comforting sound of rain clangs against your roof, and you stretch your limbs to the thought of a cloudy and obscure summer day. 

It's better this way, you think. The absence of Rafe's warmth next to you would feel worse if the sun was shining, teasing. 

Your fingers play underneath your comforter to locate your phone. Scrolling through your notifications, you frown seeing that none of them are from Rafe.

In his defense, it was only about 9AM now, and he'd probably just had enough time to take a quick shower, get himself the smallest bit presentable, and still barely make it to his meeting with a client.

The used bathroom towel in your hamper and flannel pajama pants hastily thrown on his side of the bed are compelling indicators. 

In his defense, he was drunk, and there was no telling if he remembered anything about last night. 

Drowsy proclamations of desire and confession, included. 

You wrestle with the idea of calling him and letting it all spill out.

Kissing him on your front lawn, in the rain, with dewy blades of grass nipping at your feet. Hands threading through his wet hair and tugging, hungrily, because you're starving and happy, and these are liberties you can afford in imagination.  

But you settle on seeing him later tonight, in person. It's your dad's charity after all. 

"I just wish you would have told me earlier." Your disappointed words hang in the air for a few moments as you play with the hem of your silky baby blue dress.

Your father had mentioned to you once before that his new business partner had a son about your age, newly graduated from UC Irvine. 

He hadn't mentioned, though, that this mystery guy would be attending the charity tonight, and he'd offered you up as his own personal tour guide.

Your father hadn't used the word date explicitly, but that's what it felt like when you were handed an odd-smelling bouquet of flowers, standing awkwardly next to the brunette who you were apparently to keep the company of all night, though he might as well have been a stranger. 

Daniel was nice enough.

He complimented your dress and your makeup, smiled and pulled out your chair before you sat down at your assigned table.

But it felt weird accepting praise and chivalry from him when your heart was busy beating erratically at the simple thought that your dress matched Rafe's eyes.  

The venue is extravagant like it always is, what with it's elaborate crystal chandeliers, ice sculptures, and floral center pieces larger than your head. 

At your table, you note your and Daniel's name cards labeling your seats. Next to them, are Topper, Kelce, and Rafe's. There's a sixth seat that has no label and you tilt your head to the side thoughtfully, considering that Topper or Kelce must be bringing a date. 

"This place is incredible. Your dad is so impressive." Daniel says in awe from the seat next to you. His eyes trail around the room, wide in amazement, reflecting back all the vibrant lights in the brown of his pupils.

You smile weakly at him, tucking a strand of loose hair behind your ear that always seems to take flight despite your attention to detail.

"Yeah, he's really something. Likes to orchestrate a big show. You should see him at the winter ball. Live doves, and everything." 

Daniel nods, moving on to say something that starts to sound unintelligible when something else piques your interest. Someone else. Multiple someones, entering the banquet hall. 

Craning your neck, you make out Topper and Rafe. And a girl. 

No. Topper... and Rafe and a girl. She has her arm tucked around Rafe's as he escorts her in the direction of your table. He's wearing the grey tux you like, the one he wore to Rose's sister's wedding with the ornate thread detailing. His smile makes the two halves of your heart squeeze together. 

"Hey, you okay? You're squeezing that wine glass pretty tight there."

Daniel likely means well, eyeing the way your fist clenches around the stem of the glass you've yet to take a sip from. You shoot him an embarrassed smile and release your straining fingers.

An emotional support water bottle sounds like it would be really nice right now. 

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little nervous... my dad always gives a speech at these things." You explain.

As the trio begins to approach, you realize it's Shelley Thompson gripping Rafe's arm, a sweet girl you knew from the Kook Academy.

Even now, she always waves when you run into her at the Island Club, and she has a swing on the golf course like no other.

She's a good match for Rafe. You hate to admit it, but it's true.

When Daniel speaks again, you can barely hear him.

"I'm sure you have nothing to worry about." Daniel chuckles. "I have a hard time imagining that your dad would be bad at anything..."

Topper, having heard the tail-end of your conversation, plunks himself down in the chair across from yours and rubs his forehead tiredly. You shudder at the way he smiles empathetically at you. Like there's something to be consoled about. 

"Hangover?" You ask, shoving the shaky feeling down and shooting him a teasing smirk.

He groans loudly and buries his face in his hands.

"That's the understatement of the year. Feels like I'm getting my skull bashed in." He mutters through the skin, then he peels his head away and grimaces at the screechy music being played. If there was one thing your dad was bad it, it was decent music taste. Topper laughs heartily, shaking his head. "Then again, maybe I am." 

The lightheartedness is interrupted for a moment as Rafe and Shelley pull up to the table, taking their seats accordingly. Rafe rakes his eyes over Daniel for a few seconds, but otherwise stays silent and it makes you frown. You look at him, desperately trying to uncover if he remembers any details from last night, but his expression is unreadable.

Shelley, on the other hand, grins at you enthusiastically and starts to chat with you about the time she interned at your dad's company. 

You find yourself glancing at Rafe every so often, each time catching him staring blankly ahead or at his lap, and always fidgeting with his fingers. 

"Who's this?" He asks suddenly, nodding his head at the man next to you. 

"Oh." You swallow. "This is Daniel."

Finding that insufficient, Daniel takes it as an opportunity to formally introduce himself. 

"That's me." Daniel waves sheepishly, gently squeezing your shoulder with his other hand. "Y/N's been showing me around. Well, her and her dad. I really love what Mr. Y/L/N's been doing with his company. He does some incredible work out here. It's not often that you see-,"

Topper snickers when he cuts him off. 

"Maybe he should've been your date."

Daniel laughs it off, blushing slightly and concealing it in a short cough. But you kick Topper under the table in retaliation, ignoring the way he holds his shin and groans out a soft "Ow!". 

After that, Shelley, Topper, and Daniel divulge into conversation, shifting from topic to topic and at some points, sharing boisterous laughs together.

Rafe keeps his lips pressed together and his words concise. While you fiddle with your utensils, you feel his eyes on you, igniting heat under your skin. 

He stares at you hard, like he's waiting for you to say something. Begging, even, with the way his forehead tenses and his brow stays quirked.

But you didn't know what to say.

Or maybe you didn't know how to say it. Especially not here. Especially not when he had a date. 

Rafe rolls his eyes and chews on the inside of his cheek, standing from the table abruptly, the movement making the cutlery tremble.

"Hey, I have an idea." He says while tugging on Shelley's hand. "Let's dance."

You watch as Shelley squeals with excitement, jumping from her seat to follow Rafe towards the center of the large room where the music is playing. 

"Couldn't pay me to get closer to that band." Topper mumbles offhandedly. You're sure he's trying to make it sting less, but some pains don't have a perfect antidote. 

Daniel sends you a look, silently asking if you want to join them. 

"Maybe later." You reply quietly. 

Watching Rafe wrap his arm around Shelley's waist, you feel your heart sink slowly into your stomach.

In the middle of Daniel's rambling and Topper's occasional acknowledging hums, you rise from your seat and stumble into the courtyard for some fresh air.

Surely, your heart would keep sinking if you saw any more, and your heels were too tight to fit anything else. 

The courtyard is a beautiful mix of greenery, fairy lights, and concrete statues, but it does little to ease the ache in your chest. You sit on a stone bench and try to control your breathing with your head between your knees. 

Though it's turbulent and shallow at best.

"What's wrong?"

You know it's Rafe without looking up. Sighing into the palms of your hand, you slide them down from your face and lift your head up. Surely, your makeup is smudged, and the thought makes you more miserable.

"Nothing." You say more sharply than you intended. "Nothing's wrong. Just go away, Rafe."

He looks at you completely scandalized. 

"Are you... mad at me?"

You let out a deep breathe, averting your gaze to the ground as you collect yourself. "No, I'm not mad. Why would I be mad?"

Rafe scoffs, entirely unconvinced. He rakes a hand through his hair in frustration. 

"Well, fuck, if this is 'not mad', then I don't want to see what mad looks like." 

"Can you just drop it? Please, Rafe? Drop it?" You beg, sniffling slightly as you stand. You hadn't noticed when your cheeks started to get wet. Likely too much in denial.

Despite the way it's honoured you in the past, crying was offering no release at this point. It's not like any of this was Rafe's fault. Even if he had gotten your hopes up last night, he wasn't obligated to act on drunken pillow talk. Maybe he hadn't meant it in the first place and was only trying to make you feel better.

"You won't talk to me." He says sadly.

You bite down on every explanation you want to give him. Chest pain heavy and unrelenting.

"Just... go back to Shelley, Rafe. She's probably waiting for you."

Rafe looks puzzled when the words fall weakly out of your mouth.

Then, he nods, like something finally clicks for him. He meets your eyes with fervor as he presses his lips together.

"So, this is about Shelley?" He asks.

Your head hangs and silence intensifies between you. It speaks for itself.

"The same Shelley that's been fucking Kelce on and off for the past two years?"

He watches your mouth fall open and eyebrows furrow, continuing as you stare at him.

"Kelce promised to take her out on a real date, but then he got caught up at work... asked me to keep Shelley company until he showed up. We didn't come here together, together, Y/N. I thought you knew that." 

Your mind buzzes as he speaks, bottom lip wedged under your teeth.

So, he wasn't here with Shelley. And he probably did remember both what he heard and said last night if he could recognize that you were jealous.

Jealous. It makes you squeeze your eyes shut. The feeling was always two-fold. A person would feel jealous, then humiliated that they had. You don't know which one is worse.

You peak an eye open, chewing through your words. "Why couldn't Topper do it?" 

"Have you met Topper?"

That was a good point. 

Still reeling from the new information, you look down at your lap pensively.

"But you did." Rafe begins after a few beats of silence. When you frown in confusion, he clarifies. "... come here with someone."

You crane your neck up to look at him. There's something you can't place in his eyes, but it's cloudy and all-consuming. His hair is a mess from the way he's been ruffling through it, and his cheeks are flushed and tight.

"What, Daniel? Are you kidding me? I only brought him because my dad ask-," you begin to explain, but Rafe cuts you off. 

"I don’t care why he thinks he can touch you. I just want him to stop.”

Despite the small gust of wind that blows past you both, you feel a warmth at the base of your neck... in the palms of your hands. Maybe it was the beams of light overhead, illuminating your bodies amidst the greenery.

Or, maybe it was just Rafe's words.

The intensity of his gaze. The way he steps towards you as he speaks them, warm hand eventually reaching out to graze over your cheek in a way that makes you gasp in a mixture of shock and excitement. 

For a moment, you think about yourself and the many soul-crushing nights spent watching Rafe talk to and touch and kiss other people, the overlapping visuals making you queasy. 

"I know the feeling." You say quietly, hot breath fanning over his face.

Rafe frowns a little, soaking up the meaning of your words. He nudges his face closer to yours, until your noses are touching and his lips just barely graze over the pair he desperately wants to taste. He draws back suddenly, suspending all the air in your lungs. 

He eyes you cautiously, challenging silently as he licks his lips.

"Not gonna do anything unless you ask." 

You nearly cry out in response. "Rafe, please. I... I want you." Ignoring the way your desperation makes your skin feel tingly and your head spin, you shut your eyes tightly, realizing that only really skimmed the surface. You try again, gulping. "I've always wanted you."

"Fuck." He breathes out, eyes fluttering shut. "Never stop saying that." 

Stifling the sound of another whine from your lips, Rafe kisses you feverishly.

He moves his soft lips in tandem with yours, swallowing each of your breathy moans. One of his hands traces over the swell of your jaw while the other stretches tenderly around your throat. "Know what I wanted to do when I saw you sitting there next to him?" 

You nearly scream in protest when Rafe pulls his lips off yours, but fall silent when he trails kisses down from your jaw to your neck and collarbones, sloppily sucking the skin then laving his tongue over the afflicted areas. Unsatisfied until your pushing his head away from the sensitivity. 

"Wanted to knock his fucking teeth out." He murmurs with his head buried in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent and leaving searing kisses. "But I don't do that shit anymore. So I'll ruin his night a different way."

Rafe moves your body with his until the backs of your knees hit the concrete bench. Your mouth falls open as he sits you down on it, kneeling in front of you. He presses a ticklish kiss to your knee and his bright blue eyes peer up at you through his lashes. When you nod, he parts your thighs and pulls your panties down in a single unbroken movement, committing every second to memory.

He stares longer than he should, groaning at the way your wetness collects on his finger when he traces a finger over your slit, spreading you apart. 

"Can't believe," he moans into your mound, running the flat of his tongue over your center again and again. "... you kept me from this pussy for so long." 

You throw your head back at the sensation, finding nothing but air and Rafe to support you as pulls you closer to his mouth.

"That," you say in a broken moan at the feeling of Rafe's tongue inside you. "That's your fault, remember? I was always here — shit! Waiting for you.”

Rafe hums against your pussy at that, neither agreeing or disagreeing. His nose nudges your clit as he tastes you greedily. You tug at his hair to dissipate some of the energy building inside your core, but it only makes Rafe work harder. 

"Didn't think I deserved you." He admits, pink lips mesmerizing and wet with your slick and his spit. Rafe takes your clit into his mouth and sucks obscenely, the slurping sound sending a flash of heat through you. "Doesn't matter now. I'm good at making up for lost time..."

Your thighs clamp around Rafe's head as he fucks you with his tongue. It's only now, as gasps and high-pitched sounds fall wantonly from your lips that you come to the reality that you're letting Rafe eat you out in the courtyard, and anybody from the party could come here and find you. Still, you moan less controlled than you would have hoped when he suckles at your clit again, drinking at your sopping pussy.

"Hey, have some common decency, huh? There's some very nice people in there trying to enjoy a party." 

Rafe smirks when you pull at his hair even harder, mostly at the thought that you think it could be reprimanding when he likes it so much. His teasing does more to turn you on than you'd care to admit and he can tell with the way you gush around him.

"One of em's your date." He adds, laughing slightly as he curls his tongue inside you. Entranced at the way it makes you whimper and writhe like putty under him. He starts rubbing your clit with his thumb at the same time, chasing the crest of your orgasm. "C'mon, baby. Give it to me. Come all over my tongue." 

Your release makes your back rise off of the slab of cement you're seated on, thighs slotted over Rafe's shoulders as he licks you through your climax.

The pleasure is insurmountable, your mouth falling open and your eyes screwing shut as that familiar feeling completely overwhelms your senses, the burn of your elbows against the cement keeping you anchored to the ground. 

Rafe smiles when you pull him by the belt of his dress pants to capture his mouth in a long and sweet kiss. It helps clean up the residual wetness. 

By the time Kelce makes it your father's charity event, he sighs tiredly into the crown of Shelley's head, pressing a wet kiss there in greeting. On his way in, he got trapped in a conversation with your father and some guy he'd never seen before named Daniel who was more inclined to kiss your dad's ass than he was to breathe.

Finally taking his seat next to a very drunk Topper, he squints his eyes at the sight before him. You and Rafe, unable to keep your hands off each other, giggling at nothing in particular. And when not giggling, kissing.

"Are you seeing this shit?" Kelce asks Topper, gesturing towards his two closest friends shoving their tongues down each other's throats. Shamelessly, at that.

"Dude." Topper groans, sighing like this was no surprise to him. "Where the fuck have you been?"

a/n: thank you for reading! comments/reblogs appreciated!!

[starry-bi-sky]

mmmmmm read a disciple shen yuan/shizun luo binghe fanfic about two days ago where the first chapter was the Immortal Conference arc, and SQQ was the one who had to be pushed into the abyss (he was still the villain) except Luo Binghe was refusing and was like, lowkey losing his mind about SQQ being so close to the edge. SQQ ended up having to be the one to fall in himself because of the system's punishment system. The rest of the fic is leading up to that moment. But like, MMM i've been obsessively thinking about that first chapter for DAYS ever since.

now i've been in svsss for a grand total of *checks watch* a week. but god obsessed with that. I want to write/read a fic where disciple SQQ goes a little nuts down there. Like keep all of the things that make SQQ, SQQ, but just. Throw in a little bit more trauma in there. A little bit of a mental break. Let him go a little nuts as a treat. Just a tad unhinged. I wanna see him go, just a little, "god fuck it, i've tried so hard to change this shitty story's outcome and it feels like everything i've done has been for nothing. I'm going to die in this world no matter what I do, I've been doomed from the start, so might as well die the way I want to." and he just, breaks a little! Under all the stress.

He still retains the traits that makes shen yuan, shen yuan, like his overwhelming kindness. But he's just! yk. A little less patient. Paranoid. Jumpy. Colder. A little more aloof and closed off. A little more Shen Jiu. He's no asshole child abuser, but he was a Number One Hater in his past life and he's leaning into that old habit a little more now.

(On a totally coincidental not-at-all related note, there's not enough SJ-and-SY-are-the-same-people fics out there that i've found. This is totally unrelated...)

The Endless Abyss turns the mind into an over-sharpened blade, and SQQ is both fascinated and perhaps a little excited to explore a place that doesn't have a lot of info on it in the mortal realm, but still terrified out of his mind. And he's no Luo Binghe, he doesn't have the sheer brute strength and power to just bulldoze his way through, so he has to be a lot more sneaky and cunning if he wants to survive.

The fic itself role-swapped LBH and SQQ so that SQQ was the half-demon (which lowkey fucks) and LBH the human, but I'm equally-if-not-more obsessed with the idea that LBH remains the half-heavenly demon and SQQ the human. If only because I keep thinking about SQQ befriending some demons (particularly and specifically a group of succubi) and they grow very attached to this Human Cultivator so through magic plot stuff they create some kind of seal/illusion/talisman that makes SQQ appear as a demon because a human cultivator in the endless abyss may as well be the equivalent of putting a giant neon target on your back.

And iirc Shen Jiu was taught demonic cultivation by that one guy(?? i've only been here a week so im not caught up in ALL of the lore yet) so that could totally happen here.

(On the other end of the realms, poor Shizun Luo Binghe is just. losing his fucking mind over losing his most precious and beloved disciple. About .5 seconds from burning down the peaks himself. somebody sedate him.)

The Endless Abyss sucks and SQQ is having a really terrible time and can feel himself going lowkey mad, but also holy shit look at all this WORLD-BUILDING. look at all this flora and fauna, and oh if he had the equipment for it he'd be writing all of this down. ALL OF IT. He was kinda-sorta-already planning on never leaving the Abyss as some sort of fucked up self-exile and self-preservation thing, but now he might? actually just?? never leave if he can help it, like he lowkey likes it down here.

anyways the next time anyone ever sees SQQ again he's got hair so long its almost touching the ground and he's either in rags and half-feral or he's been completely dolled up by his adoptive succubi sisters and still about three seconds from biting anyone who tries to touch him. (he's also lowkey trying to book it back down to the abyss even if he has desperately missed all of his friends and shizun)

[vaguely-concerned]

on the one hand I think inner demons could stand to have a bit more romanced rook specific content, but on the other hand the underlying in-built implication that 'yours is the one true voice of comfort and safety in my inner world' is a sentiment and intimacy so way beyond the romantic or the platonic or any secret third thing you could care to name that it makes me lose my entire poor little mind a bit. it's so big and fundamental — near-existential — that in that exact moment at least the distinctions kind of seem irrelevant.

all the people lucanis' mind conjures up along the way are relationships he has that are unavoidably mixed and fraught in some ways even when they're also full of love (they are fraught BECAUSE they're full of love) — the good in them inseparable from things that hurt him at the same time. (it's about: the basic disorganized attachment patterns this poor guy is dragging around with him. careful with those, they're dellamorte heirlooms. what you love also inevitably hurts you and you won't be allowed to have one without the other, you have to surrender parts of your soul to hold on to what little you have left: this is the story up until now.) and the idea that rook isn't that to him — that beneath the fear of wanting them when romanced (which is more its own separate thing because within this psychology, actively wanting something and not just clinging on for dear life to even a meager status quo lest you lose it is in itself dangerous bordering on catastrophic), this is a relationship where there isn't resentment, or guilt, or shame, or dread, or rage, or self-hate, or any of the other emotions that keep him paralyzed, unable to move this way or that. no debts, nothing owed of yourself and your soul's substance except what you can freely and safely and happily give. love and freedom don't coexist — but, I mean, you're almost starting to make me think........... unless...👀👀👀. the unconditional and undramatic 'you are here and I am here with you, you can be exactly how you are right now with me and it's safe for us both even though you're afraid it won't be, I'm not going anywhere' acceptance rook shows him here that he returns to them in the big romance scene, when it's rook who needs it. the way he's just. standing there in the center of it all, like a child desperately helplessly waiting to be found, hiding in the place he hopes you'll know to look first. (rook does know. it's one of the first things they say in there.)

in short the most important room in his little mind palace for the romance is the very first room — the one where rook isn't. where, in fact, rook cannot be, because they disprove the entire structure of the place with their existence and presence in his life. with everyone else he's putting words in their mouths about what they think of him, and rook is the one who actually gets to come in to speak their own words to him — and have him listen. ('he'll listen to you, he always listens to you', 'your voice is a comfort'.) of course rook isn't present anywhere else in there — at the risk of stating the obvious to a tedious degree, they aren't one of the locks, they're bringing the key. in the very finest 'the messenger and the message' sort of way.

[r3leee]

you asked, you shall receive !

HEY QUEENS!! i am SO sorry for getting this out so late, your girl was going through it 😭😭 (two concerts, two tests, socratic seminar prep, and finding out i’m bi all in one week). anyway, thanks for waiting, here you go <333

pairing: dom!billie eilish x sub!fem!reader

summary: your girlfriend, billie’s, been doing promo work all day for her business trip. naturally, when she gets back, she wants a piece of you, and though you can offer that to her, you have to be quiet… (continuation of this drabble)

warnings: RPF!! don’t like, don’t read, established relationship, no direct smut but like a little if you squint (i’m not sure if i’m ready to sail that ship yet), hickeys, pet names (sweet girl n baby), exhibitionism kink if you squint, implied-girly/femme!reader

word count: 716, should take about five and a half minutes to read (IT'S SHORT IKKKK I'M SORRY)

listen to: needy by ariana grande

IF YOU COULD use one word to describe your girlfriend, one of the last things in your mind would be clingy. handsy? yes. possessive? yes. dominant? oh, ya. but clingy? no, not really.

she only ever got like that when she was away from you for a while or really, really horny; today’s case was the latter.

you two were currently in paris for a bit of promo. you both were very happy you were able to be on this trip, since you were usually subjected to staying at home.

the past few days were relatively normal: getting settled in and a photoshoot. but today was more intense.

today, billie had multiple photoshoots and an interview. she had to wake up early for them, so by the time you were up, she was gone. instead of heading straight for the studio, you decided to treat yourself a bit.

that morning, you ate at a small café and went shopping at the local stores. you got lots of things: jewelry, makeup, accessories, and of course, clothes.

while in a certain store, you found this gorgeous dress. it was sleeveless and shiny in your favorite color, fit with a bow in the back.

you immediately bought it and changed into it before going to visit your girlfriend.

she was on her break when you walked in, hands riddled with bags galore. when she heard the door open, she looked up, a stern expression on her face, but it immediately softened when she saw you. “hi, sweet girl,” she immediately beamed.

you walked over to her, placing a light kiss to her cheek before she cupped your face and kissed you in the lips. “hi,” you replied softly. she smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before you sat on the velvety couch.

“where were you?” you quickly set your bags down, going on about the morning you had. but, she couldn’t help her eyes constantly drifting down to your dress. the way it fit on you, slightly raising up on your thighs was enamoring and she couldn't tear her gaze away.

later, billie was doing a photoshoot as you sat behind the camera and watched. she was stunning with her ocean-blue eyes and long black hair. you weren't aware of it, because, at some point, you had some emails to reply to, but when she wasn't being photographed, she was staring at you. so much so that at some point, the director had to tell her to focus.

that's how you ended up here: in your girlfriend's lap, a hand over your mouth.

“shh…gotta stay quiet, baby, right?” she nodded towards the bathroom.

for this specific trip, like most, you booked a connected room for you two and finneas. but, upon arrival, the staff had informed you there was some kind of plumbing issue in finneas' bathroom, and that the shower there was shut off.

of course, it was unrealistic to make him not shower the whole trip, so right now, he was borrowing yours. you were just wondering why he had to be borrowing it right now

you nodded as she whispered, “good."

at this point, she'd been on you for what, 10 minutes now? you weren't sure how she still had room to keep sucking and marking at your neck, almost similar to a mosquito drawing blood. red and purple hickeys cascaded all over your neck to the point it was almost painful, but you didn't ever tell her to stop. not once. she was too precious for you to tell her no.

every time you heard a noise coming from the bathroom, you turned your head, worried you'd get caught. but, never more than two seconds later, a hand on your jaw would turn you back. "it's fine, baby," billie would whisper. "we're gonna be careful, not get caught," she'd reassure you before attacking your neck again. all you could do was whine.

that was until you heard the door creak open. "fuck." immediately, billie threw a stray blanket over you as she went on her phone. you just stared up at the ceiling.

finneas walked back to his room without a second glance. and as soon as the door shut, your girlfriend took the blanket off you. "come here. we're good now."