#four my school president

[ashedddaisy]

We have reached 39 k and new characters have been introduced, guess who of MSP is now here (yes, they appear in the tags, no need to guess)

[dribs-and-drabbles]

The Thai Communal Wardrobe item #153

Vice Versa ep 8:

My School President ep 6:

UMG ep 11:

Cherry Magic Thailand ep 11:

Peaceful Property ep 11:

for @aprilblossomgirl 💙

[one-vivid-judgment]

The category is "Puppy boys I would go to war for"

[aprilblossomgirl]

-- sad puppy x sad kitten

[quodekash]

here’s a warning about me, if two characters have their first kiss and then they pause for a second and kiss a second time, I WILL be matching the video up with the music from the patpran episode 5 rooftop kiss.

[itsbinghebitch]

remember when there used to be sick moments from a show youtube compilations..... i want one of those for my school president

[lesser-vissir]

I think that sweveham post kinda gets to the core of why so many transfems dislike the usage of queer or "the queer community".

Because even within the much tighter bounds of the trans community, we are completely and totally thrown around. Transmisogyny is totally rampant and its so hard to participate in them.

Even expanding to the classic LGBT community gets the transmisogyny worse since you usually ALSO have to deal with normal ass transphobia.

Then expanding it even farther to include ace/aro people et al in the queer community and you start reaching people who simply have no relation at all to trans-ness.

We can't feel safe in our own community, so how the fuck are we supposed to feel safe in the queer community?

[bisexualboysbroadcast]

boy band got it going on!

[inkskinned]

don't worry, they're joking! they're always joking when it would be something, like bigoted. because i'm not a bigot, obviously, i just vote for bigots - well, they're not bigots either, you can't really call someone a bigot just because they have religious views. this is the land of the free, and it's a christian nation, after all. you can pretend otherwise but let's just be real here; all our values are really based on the bible. anyway, i know you liberals get your panties in a twist - can i say that, or are you gonna cancel me, haha, #metoo - about every little joke he said and every little dramatic political view. oh, fascist this and fascist that. you are online too much, you love the word fascist because it's big and you're just paranoid about things.

well, no, i don't, like, read the policies. i have a life. and so what if they wrote - stop it, it's not a manifesto, okay? he eventually backed off from that - oh the vice president? who cares about that guy, that isn't real power. you're being dramatic, they're just spitballing. everyone makes big claims when they're out there campaigning. he just means he personally wouldn't get gay married. you want him to divorce his wife and get gay married? anyway, even if they cancelled gay marriage - it wouldn't happen, okay? nobody i know really cares about that - it'd be states-rights like those abortions you love so much. and you live in a blue state. you live in like the gay capital of the world. i don't know why it'd be so bad for you, you're borrowing trouble there.

and besides, you're missing the point of his campaign! you people want to be victims so bad you completely ignore what we're really voting for. there are tons of good things that happened because of his name and his policies - the economy, for one. oh stop, just because i can't tell you what a tariff is off the top of my head doesn't mean i don't have eyes. and stuff was better under him! well, yeah, anything good is his work, obviously. what? no, all the bad stuff was biden. and probably also obama. what do you even care about this, anyway? it's not going to effect you. it's four years.

oh my god, not the climate change argument again, i'm not getting into that. i don't care about it. if my house is beachfront that's great news for me. and we don't really know what's causing it. no, i saw you forwarded me those articles and i just laughed. what, do you think i have time to sit on my ass and read shit? huh? well, no, i like reading the babylon bee. they actually had a great article about all you climate freaks. and in the meantime, what do you want me to do? i'm not paying 4 dollars for gas. liberals love to talk about solutions but never pay for the solutions. what do you mean blocked because of congress. you gotta stop with the conspiracy shit.

no, my side doesn't have real conspiracy theories. the vaccine thing is a real thing. besides, you yourself don't like big pharma. just because i have an opinion, suddenly now you think big pharma is great? and this is serious, okay? your mom's friend's coworker has a kid that died from a heart event. i don't want you getting any more vaccines. i regret that you got them as a kid, i'd redo them. what do you mean you'd vaccinate your own kids? are you finally thinking of having some? you know i want grandkids - oh stop, i've never pressured you, i'm just saying that if you're going to get gay married, you might as well give me some normal grandkids to love.

stop, you know what i meant. what? no, he's not going to take away your right to adopt. besides, you could always use a sperm donor, haha, i know your high school ex would love to - jesus! okay! no need to snap. i'm just saying that you don't need to be married to have a kid. the only real benefit to marriage is taxes, haha. it won't change anything. oh my god, no, there won't be a rise in hate crimes. well, it's not his fault what people do in his name! he eventually spoke out against that, anyway.

what do you mean he supported them? i didn't hear him say that. oh. well, yeah, he said it, but like, he's clearly joking.

[juyeoz]

GOOD GRACES — YANG JUNGWON

SYNOPSIS — You and Yang Jungwon were both a part of your school’s athletics committee. Usually, in a club, all the members got along, correct? However, that wasn’t the case for you two. Hatred wasn’t enough to describe what you felt for each other. Although, you two had two different roles within the club, he always found a way to get into your head. Even if you hated that aspect of him, your president took it as an opportunity to make you two work together on a very important task—the athletics section of the yearbook. Seems like bad luck does exist.

PAIRING — volleyball-player!jungwon x photographer-fem!reader (ft. enhypen, woonhak from boynextdoor, yujin and wonyoung from ive, ningning from aespa, shotaro from riize, jisung from nct, hong seunghan, jiheon from fromis_9, jongseob and intak from p1harmony, minju from illit, haewon from nmixx, chaehyun from kep1er, and mentions of other idols too)

GENRES(S) — smau + written, enemies to lovers, he fell first he fell harder, forced proximity (?), tutor x tutee, highschool au, nonidol au, sports au, slow burn, fluff, crack, and angst.

WARNING(S) — swearing, random timestamps, bantering, insults, spelling errors (on purpose), kys/kms jokes, threats, mentions of gagging, injury, and mentions of being sick + fainting.

STATUS — completed! (oct 22nd, 2024 - feb 6th, 2025)

TAGLIST IS CLOSED!

ENJOYED? READ THE NI-KI SPINOFF HERE!

PROFILES › ONE | TWO | THREE | FOUR

CHAPTER ONE — yang jungwok

CHAPTER TWO — you look schizophrenic

CHAPTER THREE — mistakes my evil twin (0.8k words)

CHAPTER FOUR — OH MY GOD

CHAPTER FIVE — go on without me (0.7k words)

CHAPTER SIX — homozygous

CHAPTER SEVEN — are you stupid? (0.1k words)

CHAPTER EIGHT — BY EMAIL?!$&%

CHAPTER NINE — tell my story thanks!

CHAPTER TEN — road to ***** (0.7k words)

CHAPTER ELEVEN — well….

CHAPTER TWELVE — TAKE IT BACK RIGHT NOW

CHAPTER THIRTEEN — he might fail me yall

CHAPTER FOURTEEN — Who did this to you?

CHAPTER FIFTEEN — that’s kind of kinky…!

CHAPTER SIXTEEN — world pause (1.2k words)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN — at what cost? (1.7k words)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN — what the fuck (0.3k words)

CHAPTER NINETEEN — Lee Heeseung.

CHAPTER TWENTY — yeah so ABSOLUTELY NOT

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE — attacked with a crutch

CHAPRER TWENTY-TWO — fuck you

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE — k so die

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR — Bro?

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE — the return of jungwon…

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX — disgusted (0.6k words)

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN — lmaoo wdym ??

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT — no shit ???

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE — Yeah it’s over . bye

CHAPTER THIRTY — for u and ur broke ass

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE — ofc u would biggie

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO — the boy who swore (0.9k words)

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE — ho Speak.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR — you’re on your own, kid

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE — U AINT HOLLYWOOD

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX — #GotSentHome

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN — OH MY GOD??&:%%]

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT — 𝓱𝓸𝓵𝓭 𝓸𝓷

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE — it must be true love twin!

CHAPTER FORTY — Skin u alive.

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE — not once but twice (0.6k words)

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO — SHE DOESNT WANT U

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE — BRING HOME THAT WINNN

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR — #BlondeHairDomination

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE — Oh. (0.5k words)

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX — Wait a minute

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN — *gulps..*

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT — might fry Lol

COMPLETED!

© JUYEOZ

[munson-blurbs]

Eddie Munson x Best Friend!Reader

Summary: The jocks decide to prank you with invitations to the Valentine's Day dance. But is it them? Or is your so-called best friend secretly messing with you?

WC: 2.1k

Warnings: hurt/comfort, bullying, best friends to lovers, fem!Reader, public make-out session (oops)

Based on an anonymous request I got. I hope I did this justice 💚

Divider credit to @saradika

Everything is pink. 

And it’s not that pink is a bad color—pink Starbursts are clearly superior to the other colors, for example. The Pink Ladies from Grease strutted with a badassery you could only wish to emulate. And the stuffed pig you won at the carnival as a kid—the one that you still keep on your bed—is pink, though you have to admit that its color has faded over the last decade. 

No, pink itself isn’t the problem. Even the abundance of it isn’t bad, from the paper hearts lining the school hallways to the streamers criss-crossing the ceilings. 

It’s that every flash of pink, particularly that Pepto-Bismol shade, reminds you of what you don’t have: an invitation to the Valentine’s Day dance. 

The events committee decided to “do things differently this year” and make the Valentine’s Day dance a couples-only event. Apparently, Hawkins High had no room for platonic love in their budget. 

Whatever money they’re saving by cutting the number of attendees seems to have gone towards invitations. Instead of buying tickets, one half of a couple fills out a slip of paper, and the committee delivers a personalized invitation to the partner’s locker. 

It’s absurdly cheesy and way over-the-top. And despite knowing how ridiculous it is, you can’t suppress the pang of excitement when you open your locker and a small, bright pink envelope falls out, face-down. 

Who would be asking you to the dance? 

There was only one person you wanted to ask you—but that would never happen. No, Eddie Munson was a lot of things: a Dungeon Master, a drug dealer, a senior year three-peat, but he was not a school dance attendee. In fact, you don’t think he’s been to a single one since you’d met him four years ago. 

You pick the envelope up tentatively, and though logic told you it wasn’t from him, your heart still sinks when you see the loopy script on the front:

To: Chrissy

Love: Jason

Why is Chrissy Cunningham’s invitation in your locker? Her locker is with the other cheerleaders’ down near the gym, a considerable distance from yours. 

“Oh my god, did you see that?”

The sound of muffled laughter catches your attention, and you look across the hall to see the President of the Events Committee, Gina Phillips, and her boyfriend, Andy Garber, smirking at you. Jason Carver stands beside them, his head thrown back in uncontrollable laughter. 

“That was so worth the five bucks,” he says to Gina, placing a crumpled bill in her hand. He strides over to you and plucks the envelope out of your grasp. Not that it takes much effort. ���I’ll be taking that.”

“So sorry about the mix-up.” Gina fans a manicured hand over her heart in feigned sympathy. Andy slings a muscular arm over her shoulder as they walk away. 

You stave off the humiliation-induced tears until you find an empty bathroom stall. Pathetic. You had no date and you fell victim to a cruel prank in one fell swoop. 

Whatever—it was over and done with. Tomorrow is a new day, one where you can ignore Gina and Andy and Jason, like you’ve been doing for years. 

Except there’s another pink envelope in your locker when you open it the next day. This one is more crudely shoved in the slots, all wrinkled and creased. The paper tears when you yank it out. 

To: Nancy

Love: Jonathan 

Of course, neither Nancy Wheeler nor Jonathan Byers have anything to do with this—Jonathan just filled out the slip and expected the committee to deliver it to his girlfriend’s locker. And Nancy, though somewhat uptight, has always been nice to you. 

That’s why you stuff down your embarrassment and trek over to her locker, sheepishly explaining that her invitation accidentally got delivered to you. No need to tell her that there was nothing accidental about it. 

Nor is there anything accidental about the envelope marked To: Rebecca, Love: Patrick that sticks out of your locker after fifth period. Or the one Gina had manages to slip into your backpack while you’re changing for P.E. To: Ellen, Love: James. 

If you could carry around all of your books and avoid your locker completely, you would. 

By the end of Valentine’s Day, you’re no longer returning the invitations to their rightful owners. Any stupid pink envelope that finds its way into your life is promptly ripped to shreds and tossed in the nearest trash can, creating a heap of the saddest confetti you’ve ever seen. You’re not even looking at the names anymore—whatever arguments that causes between normally happy couples is their problem, not yours. 

You feel some of the week’s tension melt away as you walk into the drama club storage room, though it’s quickly replaced by a much different kind of tension. There’s a fluttering in your stomach when Eddie stops setting up the game to turn towards you and smile.  

“You’re early, sweetheart.” He crosses his arms over his chest and half-sits on the table. “Here to get some secrets out of me?”

“Nah. Just felt like bothering you a little extra today.”

Eddie shakes his head. “Never a bother. Especially compared to the freshmen.” 

He pauses for a beat before turning back to the game, suddenly very interested in adjusting the DM screen. 

“Found anything interesting in your locker lately?”

His question knocks the wind out of you. Eddie has been in on it? Your supposed best friend has been planting other people’s dance invitations in your locker?

It makes sense: He knows your locker combination and your class schedule. If he isn’t the one actually putting the envelopes in there, he’s at least helping Gina. 

“That was you?” You will your voice to not break, but your eyes are already glassy with tears. “Why would you do that?”

Eddie’s brows bunch together. “I…thought it might be fun?” 

“Fun?!” Is he serious? You know guys can be dense sometimes, but he must truly be an idiot to think this prank would be fun for you. “God, are you that desperate to keep the jocks buying from you that you’d do that? Because let me tell you–there isn’t a lot of variety around here as far as dealers go.”

He puts his hands out. “Whoa, hold on.” He starts towards you, but stops when he sees the anger in your expression. “That’s not why I did it.”

“Then why?”

“I don’t know! I guess I figured you’d be okay with it, but you’re clearly not, so just forget it.” 

There are only two words you can think of to sufficiently convey your feelings.

“Fuck you.”

You slam the door behind you as you leave, not caring who might hear. It’s the least humiliating thing to happen to you this week, anyway.

What hurts more than the prank itself is that Eddie actually believed that you’d find it funny. Getting your hopes up that someone asked you to the dance followed by a walk of shame to deliver the envelopes to their real recipients–yeah, what a hoot.

You only make it halfway down the hall when you hear Eddie calling out your name. 

“Leave me alone!”

But he doesn’t; the sound of his sneakers squeaking across the linoleum faster as he jogs to catch up to you. His hand grabs yours before and pulls you into an empty classroom.

“I’m sorry, okay?” He jams his hands into his pants pockets. “Look, I never would have done it if I knew it would ruin our friendship. That’s why I waited until the last minute to ask–I kept going back and forth about whether you’d freak out on me or not.”

Wait…what?

“And, yeah, I was probably gonna do a few deals at the dance. But that’s not why I asked you, I swear.” 

You nearly choke on the breath that’s lodged in your throat. “What are you talking about?”

His eyes widen when he sees the shock that’s written all over your face. “What are you talking about?” He counters, taking a step back.

“I’m talking about the horde of other people’s Valentine’s Day dance invitations that have been shoved in my locker every day for the last week.” You force yourself to look at him. “You’ve been putting them there, right?”

“What?! No. No.” He shakes his head to emphasize his point. “I would never do that. That’s…brutal, sweetheart. God, now I just wanna kick some ass–”

“So then why did you ask if I found something interesting in there?” You try to ignore his flexing hands clearly itching for a fight. The way his veins are prominent against his skin.

Eddie scrapes a top tooth over his lower lip. “I was talking about the invitation from me. To you. Obviously. Not someone else.” He cocks his head. “You didn’t get it?”

It must’ve been one of the ones you’d tossed out without looking, and you tell him so. Guilt gnaws at you–not just for inadvertently throwing away his invitation, but for assuming he would take part in such a cruel prank.

He scuffs one Reebok against the floor, shoulders untensing. “If you had read it,” he says, “what would you have said? Like…would you have wanted to go with me? Or, like, same reaction as when you thought I was the culprit?”

You can’t give him an answer–not without getting one first.

“Did you really send me an invitation to the dance? Or was that something you said out of pity after you found out about the prank?”

Eddie sighs, his hand reaching out to yours. It’s different from when he grabbed it earlier; this is all tenderness and no urgency. “I really sent you an invitation. You can ask Gina–well, maybe don’t talk to her,” he adds quickly when he notices your grimace. “But there was no pity involved.”

“Do you swear on James Hetfield’s life?”

“I swear on James Hetfield’s life.” Eddie laughs softly. His thumb brushes your cheek, his ring cold on your skin. “And every other member of Metallica, for that matter.” 

You look up at him, at those deep brown eyes that always seem to soften around you. You spent the last four years convincing yourself that it was all in your imagination, that any extended glances or long hugs are things he would do for any other girl friends.

But now, as he slips his other arm around your waist, slowly backing you against the chalkboard, there’s no doubt in your mind that everything he’s done has been purposeful. 

“So?”

“So…” Your nose bumps his, but he doesn’t lean in and close the gap.

“So…will you go with me to that ridiculous dance?” 

Oh. Right. Every thought besides kissing Eddie Munson already fled your mind, but he had technically asked his question first.

You smile against his lips. “God, yes.”

His mouth is on yours in an instant, bodies colliding haphazardly, but neither one of you mind the clumsiness. Your back is almost certainly covered in chalk dust as he pushes you into the board. His tongue slips between your lips and you let him in, arching your body slightly so it presses to his.

You could do this forever, let him touch and explore you. Here, or at the dance, or on his twin size mattress with a metal mixtape playing in the background–

“A-hem.”

The kiss ends abruptly, the two of you coming back to reality when you see Mrs. O’Donnell standing in the doorway. Her arms are crossed against her chest, one foot tapping an orthopedic loafer impatiently.

“The term ‘get a room’ does not refer to my classroom, Mr. Munson.” She heaves an exasperated sigh and points an arthritic finger between you and Eddie. “Detention. For both of you. Separate days, before you get any ideas.”

You accept defeat, shoulders slumping, but Eddie doesn’t back down so easily.

“C’mon, Mrs. O. It’s Valentine’s Day. Have a heart–oof,” he grunts, rubbing his ribs where you not-so-subtly elbowed him. “I mean, this is the girl who’s been helping me pass your class so I’m not your problem for a fourth year in a row. Can you cut us a little slack, just this once?”

Mrs. O’Donnell isn’t exactly known for cutting people slack, so you’re more than surprised when she relents. Maybe it’s because you’re the living, breathing miracle who is keeping Eddie Munson from taking her class again.

“Fine. Just…take this little soiree elsewhere.” She flits a disgusted hand in your direction, glaring over her bifocals as you and Eddie slink away.

Eddie drapes a tattooed arm over your shoulder. “Probably better off,” he murmurs in your ear. “We got a dance to get ready for, sweetheart.”

--

[archangeldyke-all]

Sevika is the pe teacher and reader is the English teacher and reader is sweet to all the students and everyone loves her but sevika is more on the strict side, doesn’t actually matter what’s the plot i just need teacher!sevika x teacher!reader😭🙏

HELL YES

men and minors dni

"jinx, the bell rang five minutes ago, kiddo. what class are you supposed to be in?" you ask as you walk into your classroom, blowing on your fresh cup of coffee.

this is your planning period, and you never mind having a student or two visit you, but you know jinx better than to assume she's here on her study-hall and not skipping class.

"please don't make me go, teach."

"dr. singed's chemistry class?" you guess. he's notorious for his harsh grading rubric.

jinx shakes her head. "no, no, i've got an a in chem." she huffs. "it's gym class."

you laugh. "you don't like gym? i've seen you run down the halls, you're quick as hell. figured you'd love that stuff."

"fuck no. sevika's a monster! she's making us climb ropes and do pushups-- i can barely carry my backpack to school, what makes her think i can do a fuckin' pullup!?" jinx laments.

you have to bite your cheek to keep from laughing. you gesture to the little corner of bean bags, blankets, and books in your class, then pull open your desk drawer. "you can stay. but if principal merdarda or sevika comes in here i'm tellin' her you told me it's your study hall."

"you'd rat me out?!" jinx cries. you grab one of the many bags of chips you store in your bottom drawer and toss it to her where she's getting cozy in the beanbag. she grins. "flamers, fuck yeah!"

"in exchange for my hospitality... you need to tell me why i saw your sister fighting with a cop at the gay bar last weekend." you request.

jinx gasps, her eyes lighting up in delight at a chance to gossip about vi-- a girl you taught a few years ago.

"you party at the hound?!" jinx asks with a giggle. you shrug.

"is that so shocking?"

"you're badass underneath that cardigan, huh, teach?" jinx teases. she stands from the corner and drags her beanbag across the classroom, situating herself in front of your desk and digging into her flamers. "okay, so, a year ago vi got arrested at a protest, right?" jinx starts.

you nod along in amusement at jinx's story, dividing your attention between her and the essays you're grading.

zaun high is small enough that you get to really know the kids that roam the halls for four years, and jinx comes from a big family with a gaggle of kids you've only ever adored. it's good to hear that her brothers are doing well, that vi's figuring herself out.

you blink up at jinx when she takes a pause between stories, snacking on her food. "so i hear you've made things official with ekko."

jinx turns bright red and she squeaks as she hides behind her braids. "shut up!"

"had to lock him down before he gets elected class president, huh?" you tease. jinx squawks.

"okay, well, what about a rumor i heard that you're dating another teacher here!" jinx accuses, pointing at you.

you giggle and shrug. "mmm... maybe... but you'll never guess which." you say.

jinx scoffs and rolls her eyes. "oh please, it's so obvious. you and profe ran are always giggling together." she says.

you laugh. ran, the spanish teacher, is a childhood friend of yours, but they're certainly not the person you're dating. "sure, it's ran."

jinx frowns and squints at you. "the new college councilor?" she guesses.

"ms. grayson?" you ask. jinx nods. you laugh again. "that's hilarious. isn't she married?"

jinx huffs. "well, i dunno! are you even dating anyone?"

the door slams open and you both jump, turning to look at sevika.

fuck. she looks good. you're pretty sure she's been wearing her shortest possible shorts just to tease you. she's been using the increasingly warm weather as her excuse.

"jinx! the fuck are you doing?" she glares at the teenager.

jinx jumps out of her beanbag and scrambles to collect her belongings. you giggle.

"put the beanbag back before you go."

"fuck." jinx mumbles, scrambling some more.

sevika turns her glare from her missing student to you, striding up to your desk. you bite your lip as you watch her thighs ripple with each step. "you're harboring fugitive students now?"

"she told me it was her study hall." you lie.

jinx groans. "you rat!"

sevika huffs and glares down at you. you shrug and blink up at her innocently. with a quick glance at jinx where she's stuffing her face with the rest of her chips over the garbage can, you hold up a folder to block your mouth and whisper up at your girlfriend. "my place tonight?"

sevika's glare melts for just a moment, and she gives you a half nod and a wink before tunring on her heel and smacking the chips out of jinx's hand. "c'mon, before i give you detention." she huffs, dragging jinx out of your class by her backpack.

"see you in third period, jinx!" you call. jinx giggles and waves to you. sevika flips you off over her shoulder.

taglist!!

@sevikas-baby @ghostscandys @sevikasllver @runawaybaby3 @lesbones

@chezze-its @lez-zuha @vikashoneybee @shanesevikasfuckdoll @imheadintothemountains

@nanajustnana-a @helaenabugmom

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@lavenderbabu @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

@strawberrykidneystone @vkumi @fict1onallyobsessed @dvrkhcld @sweetybuzz25

@sluttysierraaa @snake-in-a-flower-crown @ruiwonderz @littlemisszaunite @biblicalcrybaby

@blackgaladriel @nightlyconfusion @dancingqu33n17 @losernb @p1nkearth

[dribs-and-drabbles]

The Thai Communal Wardrobe item #157

My School President ep 12:

Wandee Goodday ep 6:

for @almayver 💙

[novascharms]

teach please me — tutor!reader x soccer player!rafe

reader's life is meticulously planned, from high school to becoming president of the country—she knows exactly where she's headed and every step to get there. but her airtight plan hits a snag when the principal ropes her into tutoring rafe cameron, the school’s star soccer player, who’s failing algebra and at risk of being benched next season. the team needs him on the field, and reader needs the principal’s glowing recommendation to secure her spot at her dream school. balancing her ambitious goals with rafe’s chaotic charm might just throw her perfectly crafted plan off track.

word count — 14.9 chapter index — next. chap.

c.w — smut, p in v masterlist

a.n — you did read that right. this has turned into a 15000 word monster... i'm not sure how it happened. ANYWAY. this is very late and i'm so very sorry. gramps went into emergency surgery, i started school and had the worst period cramps of my life but we all good, everything is much better now. i will be updating the other four parts very soon. (hopefully tee hee)

epilogue - part one

sunday, march 2nd

rafe was a heavy sleeper. you never knew that—not until now. he slept like a log, completely undisturbed despite the world moving around him. even with the sun pouring through the windows, turning his hair and eyelashes a shade of gold so soft it looked spun from honey, even with the familiar morning symphony of your family filling the house—your sister's giggles echoing from the yard as she played with your mom, your little brother waddling through the living room, bottle clutched in his tiny hands as he repeatedly bumped his head against rafe’s thigh—he didn’t so much as stir.  

he should consider himself lucky. you, on the other hand, could wake up from the mere sound of a door creaking open down the hall.  

you tried to imagine him in your bed instead of sprawled across your couch, head buried in your pillows, wrapped up in your blanket. would he sleep on the left or the right? hopefully the left, since you slept on the right—closest to the window, where the first light of morning always found you.  

did he dream? or did he have nightmares? did he mumble in his sleep? would you wake up to hear him speaking in slurred, sleepy gibberish, too out of it to make sense?  

did he sleep in sweats? pajamas? a button-up? shirtless? that felt very much like rafe, but you didn’t know. not yet, at least.  

did he linger in bed for thirty minutes before dragging himself up, or was he like you? someone who counted down from five to one and forced temselves up at one.

endless possibilities.

and something inside you whispered that you would find out. maybe not today. maybe not tomorrow. but the day would come, and when it did, you'd cherish it.  

you'd watch him just like you were watching him now, cataloging every detail—the way his lashes rested against his cheek, the slow, steady rise and fall of his chest. you’d memorize how his hair fell, how his lips looked impossibly soft, how the little crease between his brows never quite smoothed out, even in sleep. and you'd be allowed. 

you wouldn’t have to stop yourself from reaching out.  

you wouldn’t have to fight the urge to kiss him.  

because he would be yours. completely, irrevocably yours.  

“take a picture, it'll last longer.”  

your sister’s voice snapped you from your thoughts. you barely spared her a glance, still leaning against the archway separating the living room from the dining room, cradling a mug of now-cold tea in your hands.  

“go away,” you murmured, voice quiet but firm.  

she was right, but she could be right somewhere else.  

you'd been staring at him for well over fifteen minutes, still in your pajamas, unable to make yourself move, unable to be anywhere else. you had already called off work because the thought of leaving right now—leaving him—felt unbearable.  

were you one of those girlfriend? the kind who couldn’t stay away, who hovered and obsessed?  

girlfriend felt too soon.  

but then again, rafe had told you he loved you. twelve hours, thirteen minutes, and fifty-four seconds ago, to be exact. 

your dad passed by, replacing your cold mug with a fresh one, steam curling in the air. you thanked him absentmindedly, fingers wrapping around the warmth.  

what kind of boyfriend would rafe be?  

you already knew he was touchy, that he liked kissing, that he had a habit of nuzzling the tip of his nose against yours, of holding eye contact just a little too long when you weren’t paying attention. he liked to watch you, studying you as you tutored him, as you cleaned, as if every little thing you did was worth committing to memory.  

but what about the rest?  

would he bring you flowers? take you to the movies, or more late-night drives along the coast? would he want to sit on the beach with you until the sky turned soft with morning, or would he prefer extravagant dates, something grand and exciting?  

what kind of gifts would he like?  

would he appreciate personalized things—carefully written ‘open when’ letters, little boxes filled with things meant just for him—or was he more materialistic? would he want his favorite cologne, designer watches, the kinds of things that held status?  

or would he prefer something he could do? something he could experience—a trip, an activity, something he could share with you or his friends?  

you’d probably just get him all of it. just to be sure.  

you’d only had one boyfriend before—not that you and rafe were official yet, but still.  

being a girlfriend the first time had been… odd.  

like having a boy who was a friend, and sometimes he kissed you, and it was just… fine.  

but with rafe?  

it felt nothing like that.  

and god, you wanted to do it right.  

maybe there was a research paper somewhere on how to be a good girlfriend.  

not that it mattered. rafe made it easy.  

he made your heart stutter, your stomach twist, your cheeks burn. he made you want to be good to him. to be perfect for him.  

and maybe that was impossible.  

but you would try.

rafe stirred, his arm lifting sluggishly to rub at his eyes, fingers dragging through the remnants of sleep. the motion caught your little brother’s attention immediately, his tiny head snapping up, curiosity flickering across his face at the sudden movement in the room. once he realized rafe was awake, he held out his arms in a way that said 'pick me up before i hurl this bottle at someone.'

"hey, buddy…" rafe rasped, voice thick with sleep as he reached for him, lifting him effortlessly and settling him onto his chest.  

you stayed still, watching in silence, your body at ease yet your heart hammering against your ribs. it was as if you could physically feel it swell, stretching wide with a warmth so intense it made your breath hitch.  

and then, as if he could sense it, his eyes found yours. sleepy, unfocused, but piercing all the same. that disarming gaze of his tugged at something deep within you, pulling you toward him like gravity itself. god, you wanted to go to him. to press yourself against him, burrow into his warmth, tuck your face into the crook of his neck and let the rest of the world fall away.  

"morning."  

his voice was quiet, rough around the edges, heavy with sleep. it was almost ridiculous how the sound of it sent tingles through every nerve in your body, warm and electric, curling low in your stomach.  

"morning."

your own voice was steadier than you felt, but your feet wouldn’t move. he looked so cozy—messy hair, sleepy eyes, the laziest, softest smile pulling at his lips. he was huggable, he was yours, and the ache to touch him, to climb into his space, to sink into his warmth, made your fingers twitch at your sides.  

his head rested against the couch arm, eyes impossibly tender as they traced over you.  

"gonna stay over there?"

he was almost smiling, teasing, but something expectant threaded through the words—something hopeful.  

your little brother wiggled off his chest and padded away, but rafe didn’t look away, didn’t so much as blink. he was watching you now, watching the hesitation in your stance, the way your weight shifted like you were trying to resist something inevitable.  

"i'm enjoying the view."

you grinned, and the corner of his lips twitched, a smirk creeping in slow and lazy.  

"taking in the sights?"

you nodded.  

"like what you see?" his brows lifted slightly, smirk deepening. "hope i’m up to standard."

another nod, another hum of approval.  

and then, softer—almost pleading—  

"c’mere."

your body moved before your mind could catch up. one second, you were standing. the next, you were there, sinking into him, his hands finding your waist as your knees pressed into the cushions.  

the need to touch him was unbearable, searing through your veins, clawing at your ribs.  

and then, finally, it hit you—you can.  

as much as you want. as long as you want.  

because he was yours.  

not some far-off dream.  

not a delusion.  

real.

your hands found his chest first, smoothing over the fabric of his shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin through the cotton. slowly, they traveled upward, fingers brushing over his throat, his jaw, until your palms cradled his face, your thumb tracing the high point of his cheekbone.  

rafe turned into your touch, his lips brushing against the heel of your palm.  

"sleep okay?" he murmured, though there was a knowing edge to it, a quiet concern that made your stomach twist.  

because you both knew why he was asking.  

last night, by the time you’d finally come inside, you were wrecked. tear-streaked, hiccuping, clinging to rafe like he was the only thing tethering you to the earth. you hadn’t wanted him to sleep on the couch. you had fought him on it, insisted, pleaded, but somehow—you weren’t even sure how—he had won that fight. maybe it was the exhaustion. maybe it was the way your body had already been shutting down from the sheer weight of the night.  

"me? i'm not the one who slept on the couch."

you narrowed your eyes, fingers still cupping his face, and his lips quirked at your pointed tone.  

"i slept good," he assured you. "hard surfaces are better for your back, you know?"  

you snorted, unconvinced. "got facts now, huh? copying me, cameron?"  

he chuckled, tilting his head against your palm, lashes fluttering briefly as he stretched out with a groan.  

"didn’t you know? i’m coming for your spot."  

your smile widened. "you sure you want that? i go to the library for fun, you know?"  

rafe made a face, and you laughed.  

"still want me?" you teased, only half joking.  

he tilted his head slightly, considering. for half a second.  

then, he kissed you.  

soft. chaste. a barely-there press of lips that still managed to steal the breath from your lungs. and god, you didn’t care that he hadn’t brushed his teeth yet—you’d kiss him like this forever if he let you.  

when he pulled back, his nose nudged yours.  

"the real question is…" his voice was low, careful, like he was treading unsteady ground. "will you still have me?"  

you exhaled shakily, eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment, just soaking him in.  

the past twenty-four hours had been an emotional wreckage. you had him, then you lost him, then you had him again in the span of a few, heart-crushing, life-altering hours.  

it was enough to make your head spin.  

enough to make you terrified that you could lose him just as easily.  

"that's a silly question."

your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him close, and he melted into you, hands slipping around your waist, tugging you even closer until you could feel his heartbeat against your own.  

"is it?" he murmured, his fingers dragging along the length of your spine, leaving shivers in their wake.  

"it is," you whispered. "m’never letting you go."  

his hold tightened.  

"you promise?"  

the words were barely audible, spoken against your skin, fragile in the way only he could be.  

you squeezed him, felt his heartbeat against your own.  

"cross my heart."

after a surprisingly normal breakfast, rafe had stepped outside to take a phone call. judging by the rare, genuine smile pulling at his lips, you were pretty sure it was sarah. his sister was one of the few people who could make him look like that—unguarded, softened.  

you were elbow-deep in soapy water, stacking dishes into the drying rack, when your mom poked her head into the kitchen. her eyes twinkled with thinly veiled curiosity.  

“so,” she started, dragging out the word as she leaned against the counter.  

you turned, brows lifting. “so?”  

her gaze flicked meaningfully toward the glass doors, where rafe was pacing the length of your backyard, phone in hand. “do you have a boy who is a little more than a friend?” she asked, feigning nonchalance.  

a smirk tugged at your lips. “mm, are you asking if rafe is my boyfriend?”  

“am i asking if the boy who has been sleeping on my couch and practically living in my house for the past two months is your boyfriend now? yes, i just might be.” she deadpanned, eyes shifting between you and the boy outside.  

you smiled to yourself, wiping down a plate. “nope.”  

“no?” your dad’s voice came out of nowhere, making you nearly jump. you turned to see him standing in the doorway, confusion written all over his face.  

your mom echoed his disbelief. “no?”  

you nodded, amused. “not yet.”  

your dad huffed, crossing his arms. “not yet? well, what the hell is his plan? because i’m not about to have some kid walking in and out of this house—”  

before he could finish his sentence, the sliding door creaked open. rafe stepped inside, still distracted by his phone, but when the room fell into a tense silence, his eyes flickered up.  

his brows furrowed. “uh… hey, guys…” his gaze found yours, searching. “am i interrupting or…?”  

you shook your head a little too quickly. “no, no. they were just wondering what time we got home last night.” you turned to your parents, forcing a casual tone. “around ten, i think. you had only just gone to bed.”  

your mom pursed her lips before smiling at rafe. “uh huh. well, hope the couch wasn’t too terrible. it’s not exactly made for sleeping.”  

rafe waved a hand dismissively. “it was fine. i should’ve asked before crashing, it was kind of a last-minute thing.”  

your dad, who moments ago was seconds away from throwing him out, suddenly beamed. “that’s alright, you’re always welcome here, son.”  

you gawked at him, utterly incredulous, but he ignored you.  

your mom grabbed your dad’s arm, tugging him toward the hallway. “well, we should go because…” she shot him a pointed look, silently urging him to come up with an excuse.  

“because…” he faltered, then suddenly snapped his fingers. “we have children! yes, we should check on our other children. the little one’s been, uh… constipated lately—”  

their voices trailed off as they disappeared down the hall, leaving you blinking after them.  

“your parents are funny,” rafe murmured, stepping up behind you. you barely had time to react before he dropped his head atop yours, the warmth of his body settling against your back.  

“they’re weird,” you corrected.  

he chuckled, a quiet, deep sound. “they’re a little weird.”  

his breath was warm against your temple, the closeness of him making your chest feel tight in a way you weren’t sure how to name.  

“want me to help you dry those?” he asked softly.  

you nodded, unable to stop the smile curling at your lips. “here.”  

you handed him a mug, and he slid away just enough to grab a dish towel, falling into step beside you.

"were you on the phone with sarah?” you ask quietly, unable to hide your curiosity.  

rafe nods, still absentmindedly drying the dish in his hands. “yeah, she was asking if i was eating dinner with them tonight. we’re in that phase where my parents act super happy that she’s home—before they start picking fights with her.”  

your brows pull together. “they didn’t know she was coming back?”  

“no, they did. it was only really a surprise for me.”  

your stomach twists a little at that. “sorry it didn’t go exactly as planned,” you murmur, voice laced with quiet regret.  

rafe doesn’t answer right away. instead, he gently takes the cup from your hands, setting it down on the counter before his fingers slip around yours, warm and firm. “i’m the one who should apologize,” he says, voice thick with sincerity. “it happened at my house, with my friends. i invited you. i should’ve—i should’ve been better. if i knew—”  

“you already apologized,” you cut in softly. “a couple of times, actually. and it’s okay. you didn’t know.” you hesitate, swallowing the lump in your throat. “i also have fault in this, you know?” you look away for a second before meeting his eyes again. “i was scared. scared to communicate, to let you all the way in, to trust you sometimes. i can say without a doubt that if i’d handled a few things differently, we wouldn’t be where we are.”  

rafe tilts his head side to side, clearly disagreeing. “you don’t have any fault in this.” he tugs you closer, guiding your arms around his neck. “how were you supposed to trust me when you already knew what i was like? maybe not in detail, but the vague image was always there—even before cora said anything. you were protecting yourself. it’s one of the most human responses.”  

your lips part, ready to argue, but he beats you to it. “but,” he exhales, a tiny smirk playing at his lips, “i doubt i’ll win this fight, so let’s just agree to disagree.”  

he kisses you once, then again, softer this time, like the words themselves weren’t enough to settle it. your lips twitch with a smile you can’t control.  

“agree to disagree,” you whisper against his mouth before pressing a few more kisses to his lips, unable to stop yourself.  

he lets out a small chuckle, brushing the tip of his nose against yours, slow and affectionate. you think you could live in this quiet forever.  

“what time are you leaving?” your voice is quiet, already heavy with the weight of missing him before he’s even gone.

“soon,” he murmurs, his breath warm as it brushes against your temple, “but i’m coming back.”

your brows knit together, searching his face, his eyes, the way his lips barely quirk like he knows something you don’t. “you’re coming back?”

he nods, fingers grazing the curve of your jaw like he’s memorizing it. “there’s this girl…”

your smile is instant, soft and knowing. “mm?”

“she’s been running through my mind for so long,” he says, voice dipping lower, threading through your hair, “and i’m crazy about her.”

your grin spreads, helpless against the pull of him. “sounds serious.”

“yeah.” he smirks like he’s got a secret, and god, you love when he looks at you like that. “and i haven’t taken her on a date yet.”

you gasp, pressing a hand to your chest in mock scandal. “you haven’t taken her on a date yet?”

he shakes his head, feigning shame. “shameful, right?”

“absolutely. they should lock you up and throw away the key.”

his laughter rumbles between you, deep and warm, and you wish you could steal it, keep it somewhere safe. “damn,” he grins, pulling you closer. “throw away the key and everything?”

you nod solemnly. “except… if you can redeem yourself.”

he hums, amused. “redeem myself?”

you tip your chin up. “mmhm. like telling her where exactly you want to take her.”

his lips hover over yours, his voice a murmur against your mouth. “no can do. state secrets.” he presses a kiss to you, then another, softer between each word. “and we leave at four.”

your head spins. you barely register what he’s saying because all you can think about is the way he tastes, the way his hands tighten on your waist like he’d rather not let you go at all.

then he pulls back just enough to tilt his head, studying you like he’s about to say something important. “you should tell your parents you’re sleeping at hazel’s house,” he says casually, fingers playing with the hem of your shirt, “and bring an overnight bag.”

your eyes widen. “an overnight bag?”

his smirk deepens at your reaction. “mmhm.”

“are we staying at your house?” you ask, suspicion creeping in.

he chuckles, shaking his head. “give me a little more credit than that.”

you narrow your eyes but let it slide. “okay… how should i dress if you won’t tell me where we’re going?”

he exhales, like he’s carefully picking his words. “it’s… outside. we’re walking around. not hiking or anything, but walking. like, imagine a museum—but it’s not a museum.”

you blink. “imagine a museum, but it’s not a museum?”

he nods, his grin tilting. “and bring warm clothes to sleep in.”

your stomach flips at that. he must notice because he laughs softly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “no, we are not sleeping outside.”

relief floods you. “thank god,” you mumble. “i’d do a lot of things for you, but camping? not one of them.”

rafe grins, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you flush against his chest. “camping is actually fun, you know,” he teases, his words muffled in your hair.

you let out a tiny, skeptical laugh. “yeah, the bugs, the grass, the dirt… my dream.”

his chest shakes with laughter, pressing his lips to your forehead. “you’re such a pessimist. they’re not bugs, they’re just little critters. it’s not grass and dirt,” he grins, “it’s nature and fresh air, and it’s good for your soul.”

“no, i’m a realist. and ‘critters’ do not sound better than bugs.”

his laughter softens, something deeper settling in his eyes as he looks at you. his arms tighten, holding you like he’s grounding himself in you, in this moment, in everything you are.

“you’re good for my soul,” you whisper, barely a breath between you. “that’s enough ‘good for the soul’ for me.”

his body relaxes against yours, the air shifting, something warm and certain pressing between your ribs. he leans down, lips brushing the top of your head, his breath stirring your hair.

“think it’s enough for me too, baby.”

you’d read somewhere that the brain falls in love in 0.2 seconds. a fraction of a moment—less than the blink of an eye—and suddenly, chemicals flood your system. dopamine, oxytocin, adrenaline. the same kind of high that leaves people breathless, euphoric, addicted.  

you never really believed it. 0.2 seconds? seriously? your brain had to have more fight in it than that. love seemed more complex, something slow-building, something earned. but now, pressed against rafe’s chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beneath your cheek, the gentle rise and fall of his breathing, the warmth of his arms wrapped securely around you—you realize it wasn’t just true. it lasted a lot longer than that.  

and god, were you in trouble.  

eventually, rafe pulled himself away, murmuring something about needing to shower and change. he promised he’d be back at four, but you were too restless to wait. by two, you were already ready to go.  

you cleaned your room, checked over your schoolwork, called off volunteering, helped your mom downstairs—anything to burn through the extra energy buzzing beneath your skin. and still, there was too much time left.  

with nothing left to do, you were ready to just lie in bed and stare at the ceiling until you got a text from your friends.

“hey!” you greeted, too bright, too excited.  

three pairs of eyes blinked at you through the screen, varying degrees of shock and mild concern staring back.  

“hey… y/n,” hazel started cautiously, brows furrowed. “are you okay?”

only then did you remember—they had no idea what had happened after ivy left.  

by the time you finished telling them everything, their reactions were wildly different.  

hazel, unsurprisingly, remained skeptical. her lips pressed into a thin line as she folded her arms, eyes narrowing in that way that told you she was biting back several very strong opinions. “you need to be careful,” she warned. “i wouldn’t have taken him back on principle.”  

you rolled your eyes, already bracing for a future where hazel inevitably fell in love and her poor, unfortunate partner suffered under her stubborn, unshakable sense of justice.  

devon, on the other hand, was thrilled. she’d always liked rafe the most, but devon liked everyone that could make her laugh. and since she found almost everything funny, her enthusiasm wasn’t exactly a surprise. “this was all adriana and cora’s fault,” she declared confidently. “it only seems complicated because of misunderstandings.”  

honestly, she wasn’t completely wrong.  

ivy was the last to react, but only because she needed everything explained twice. she kept getting lost in the names and timelines, but once she caught up, she leaned back, thoughtful. “i get where hazel’s coming from,” she admitted. “but… i’ve never seen someone look at another person the way rafe looks at you.” she shook her head, like even she couldn’t believe it. “he’s in love with you. and i think you guys deserve a real chance.”  

your chest tightened, an ache so sweet it almost hurt.  

hazel made valid points. you couldn’t deny that things could have been handled better, that rafe had a past, that there were risks.  

but love had to count for something.  

the way he touched you like you were something delicate and precious, the way he kissed you like he’d been starving for you, the way he looked at you—like you were the most important thing in the world.  

you had to see this through. you deserved to try.

by the time the conversation was winding down, your phone buzzed with a message from rafe—here—and before you could even process it, the doorbell rang. the timing made you smile, a giddy, unshakable thing that only grew as you imagined him just downstairs, waiting for you. waiting to kiss you the moment you reached him, to pull you close in the car, to sit beside you, hands brushing, the warmth of him something you could sink into.  

there weren’t enough words to describe what it felt like to be in love with rafe. he was lightning in your veins, a thrill in your pulse, the kind of presence that made your skin hum and your heart stumble over itself. every bit of him exhilarated you—the way he looked at you, the way he laughed, the way just existing near him felt like standing at the edge of something breathtaking.  

“alrighttt,” ivy teased from the tiny rectangle on your laptop screen, dragging out the word with a knowing smirk. “go get your man before you implode.” she waved a hand, shooing you off.  

“i’ll text every hour, okay?” you added, mostly directing it toward hazel, who nodded, lips quirking.  

“have fun!” devon grinned, throwing up a thumbs-up.  

“fun with protection,” hazel added flatly, and your jaw dropped, eyes going wide.  

“hazel!” you gasped, half-laughing, half-scandalized.  

she only shrugged, entirely unbothered, and waved you off as you ended the call.  

you shut your laptop, the nerves settling in properly now, fluttery and insistent. you rushed down the two flights of stairs, your heart thumping louder with each step, and before you even reached the bottom, you could already hear his voice, deep and familiar, threading through the hallway.  

“no, the season’s over,” rafe was saying, his tone easy, patient.  

your mom hummed, and then—ohhh, drawn out like a realization had just dawned on her. “so, it’s like the seasons of the year? like winter, fall—”  

you nearly winced before you heard rafe chuckle, cutting in quickly, “no, no, no.” he sounded amused, not condescending, his usual charm at play. “it’s one season. the season runs from mid-august to mid-november. that’s when we play in the big arenas. the rest of the year is off-season training, then pre-season prep, and sometimes, we have non-official games against other teams.”  

“mm,” your mom nodded, absorbing the information. as you stepped up behind her, she turned, startled for a second before her face softened. “oh! i was just talking to rafe about his soccer schedule—it’s quite intensive, actually.” her expression shifted to that motherly concern she always wore when she thought you were stretching yourself too thin.  

you bit back a grin, already knowing what was coming.  

“it’s like what i tell y/n, you know?” she said, turning back to rafe, who raised his brows, clearly entertained. “always with her head buried in those books. i keep telling her, anything with ‘too much’ or ‘too little’ in front of it is bad. too much studying, and her little head might break.” she sighed dramatically, shaking her head. “i worry—”  

“okay, mhm, i know, mom. i know,” you interjected, nodding quickly as you looped an arm through hers, gently steering her toward the living room before she could launch into another full speech.  

rafe, for his part, was valiantly holding back a laugh, his lips twitching as he watched you usher your mom away. you shot him a look, but the fondness in his eyes made your stomach flip.

“your mom complaining because you study too much? that’s unheard of.” rafe teases the moment you step back into the foyer, an embarrassed smile tugging at your lips.

“my mom is unheard of,” you correct, but the words barely register as you take him in. he looked good. he always did, but tonight—tonight he looked unfairly good. black cargos, a deep green sweater snug against his frame, the edge of a white shirt peeking out beneath it. his hair, effortlessly tousled in that way that made him look like he had just rolled out of bed—but you knew better. he did that on purpose.

before you can say anything else, he hooks a finger into the hem of your shirt, tugging you forward. you don’t resist, smiling as the space between you vanishes.

“hi,” you murmur, tilting your chin up as his hand cups your face, thumb brushing featherlight over your cheek.

“hey,” he breathes back, leaning in—so close you can almost taste the mint on his breath. but just as his lips are about to touch yours, he stills.

his voice drops to a whisper. “your sister is staring at us.”

your eyes snap open in horror. mortified. and annoyed.

sure enough, when you turn your head, there she is, standing in the hallway like a tiny executioner, arms crossed, smirk sharp.

“take a picture, it’ll last longer,” you mock, throwing her own words from this morning back at her.

without a beat of hesitation, she pulls out the little flip phone your dad gave her.

“oh my god! don’t actually take the picture!” you gasp, exasperated. behind you, rafe’s quiet chuckle vibrates through your back.

she doesn’t even acknowledge you, just huffs, arms crossing tighter. “dad!” she calls out, voice ringing through the house. “y/n won’t let me take a picture of her and rafe kissing!” she storms off.

you squeeze your eyes shut, dying inside, but rafe only laughs again. the sound is warm, reassuring—just like the way his arms slip around your waist, pulling you against his chest.

“you look pretty,” he murmurs, lips brushing over your shoulder, lingering. “and you smell good.” his mouth trails higher, ghosting over your neck, his breath sending a shiver down your spine.

your fingers tighten in his sweater as you exhale, tilting your head just enough to capture his lips in a soft, fleeting kiss. “thank you.” your voice is quieter now, just for him.

you pull back slightly, hands drifting to his shoulders as you study him again. “hmm…” your grin curves slow, playful. “you look nice, but i still can’t tell where we’re going from this outfit.”

he smirks, leaning down for another kiss, this one deeper, slower. when he pulls back, his voice is lower. “that’s kind of the point with surprises.”

you laugh softly as he grabs the duffel bag from your hands.

“we should get going.”

you nod, stepping away. “yeah, i just need to say bye to my parents. i’ll be right out.” you’re already turning when he murmurs his agreement, stepping out the front door.

inside, you find your parents in the living room. your mom is braiding your sister’s hair, her fingers moving with practiced ease.

“hey, i’m heading out. i’ll see you guys tomorrow after school?”

your mom glances up, eyes sweeping over you like she’s checking for something. “you don’t have a thicker sweater? it’s quite cold.”

“it isn’t that cold, she’ll be alright,” your dad interjects, offering you a thumbs-up. “just text us when you get to hazel’s, alright?”

you nod quickly, then turn back to your mom. “i’ll take my good coat, and worst case, i’ll ask rafe for a sweater.” you offer her a reassuring smile.

she studies you for a beat longer, then softens, giving you a warm nod. “okay. have fun.”

you turn on your heel, snatching your coat from the wall hook in one fluid motion before stepping outside. the crisp air rushes to greet you, cool against your flushed cheeks, curling around your skin like a whisper of excitement. the door clicks shut behind you, sealing away the warmth of inside, but you don’t mind—not when rafe is here, waiting.

he leans against his car, fingers idly playing with his keys, the metal glinting under the dim glow of the streetlights. he’s distracted, his head tilted down, but the second you step out, he pauses. his eyes find yours instantly, scanning your face, his lips parting just slightly. “all good?” his voice is gentle, edged with something soft, something careful.

you nod, unable to contain the giddy energy bubbling inside you. your feet carry you to him quickly, almost skipping, like a child running toward something they’ve been waiting all day for. “all good, good, good.” you beam up at him, stretching onto your toes to press a quick, eager kiss to his lips.

his chuckle is quiet, warm, but his arms instinctively settle around your waist, keeping you close. “you’re happy,” he observes, amusement laced in his voice.

your grin widens as you nod. “i’ve got every reason to be.” the words are as much for him as they are a reminder to yourself.

his nose brushes against yours, the smallest touch, but it sends a shiver down your spine. “i love seeing you smile,” he whispers, like it’s a secret meant only for you.

and because it’s him, because it’s always him, you smile even more. “i love you.”

his forehead rests against yours, his eyes locking onto yours like they hold the whole world inside them. “i love you too, baby.”

the drive to your destination is both too slow and far too fast, stretching time and collapsing it all at once. you want to savor every second, but you also ache to get there, wherever there is.

every car ride with rafe is something special. even the short ones, when he’d drop you off at the retirement home, where you’d linger in his car long after he had already parked, just talking, stretching the moment, neither of you wanting to leave, not ready to say goodbye. but the long ones? those were the best. time felt slower then, like the world outside the car didn’t matter, like all that existed was the steady hum of the engine, the soft music threading through the speakers, and the effortless conversation between you.

talking with rafe was easy. being with him was easy. you were always full of things to say, stories to tell, and he was always ready to listen, to laugh, to add his own thoughts like your words were puzzle pieces he was eager to fit together. the soft melody playing in the background only made it all feel more domestic, more right, like something you could do forever.

“remember when we were at the beach, and you said you should have more fun?” he asks suddenly, breaking the quiet hum of conversation.

you nod, thinking back to that day, the way you had sighed and confessed it like it was a secret. “yeah. this is something fun?”

he grins, nodding. “it is.”

your mind spins with possibilities. “is it…” you pause dramatically, narrowing your eyes at him, “roller skating?”

his laugh is easy, shaking his head. “you already guessed that one.” he tilts his head toward the windshield. “we’re almost there, though.”

your gaze follows his, and in the distance, bright lights glow against the night sky, unmistakable and familiar. your heart stutters.

“the fair!” you nearly scream, your excitement bubbling over into your voice. you turn to him, wide-eyed. “oh my god, i haven’t been back in years. i never—”

“find the time?” he finishes smoothly, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips.

you nod, eyes shining. “thank you, thank you!” the words spill out as you grab his face, pressing frantic kisses all over his cheeks, his nose, anywhere you can reach. he just laughs, letting you, his hands resting on your waist.

“this is gonna be so fun.” you bounce slightly in your seat, your gaze snapping back to the road, watching as the fair grows closer, the colors sharpening, the lights glittering. anticipation buzzes under your skin. “i hope you’re ready to spend the next fifteen hours here, because i am not leaving until we’ve played every game. oh! we have to go on the ferris wheel.” you turn back to him, eyes pleading. “and we have to do the duck fishing game! a lot of people find it kinda boring, but i always loved it as a kid. you get fun prizes!" you ramble, the memories flooding back, making you smile at the thought of it all.

"anddd!" you continue, as rafe parks the car and unbuckles your seatbelt for you, "we can do the can knockdown and the basketball shootout! though i’m not very good at that..." you tilt your head, biting your lip.

"basketball shootout? that’s my game," rafe says, his tone teasing yet reassuring. "don’t worry, i'll show you how to score." a grin spreads across your face, and you can’t help but lean in, kissing him again, your lips lingering against his, sharing a moment of warmth.

when you step out of the car, rafe briefly checks his parking, but you're too eager to wait. you tug gently at his hand, your excitement bubbling over. "okayyy! let’s go!" you urge, practically bouncing on your toes.

"okay, someone’s excited," rafe murmurs with a smile, pulling you close, his arm sliding around your shoulder as you both start walking toward the fair, the lights ahead like a dream come to life.

the fair was alive with energy, a constant hum of voices blending with the sounds of laughter and music. the air was thick with the scent of cotton candy and popcorn, and you could feel the vibrant pulse of excitement as people swarmed the grounds. scattered among the crowd were a few familiar faces from school, most of them nodding or waving at rafe from a distance, though there were one or two who actually stopped to chat with him for a moment.

you dove into the carnival games, clearly more excited than anything else. your enthusiasm was contagious as you breezed through everything, from the ring toss and pick-a-duck to the basketball shootout, can knockdown, and the bb gun shooting booth. you even tried your hand at the hammer strength test and the wheel of fortune. each game offered a prize, and by the time you were done, you had racked up so many stuffed animals that rafe had to make a quick trip to his car to stash a couple in the backseat. you kept only the one he won for you, clutching it close as if it were a prized possession.

"i’ve got a perfect name for him," you grinned when rafe returned, slipping his hand into yours. you hugged the bear tight to your chest.

"yeah?" he asked, a curious glint in his eyes.

"rafe jr!" you exclaimed, your face lighting up with mischief.

rafe paused, turning to look at you with a playful smile. "he’s your son. isn’t he adorable?" you ask him.

"i think he’s our son," rafe said, his tone teasing but warm.

you hummed thoughtfully, "yeah, from nine a.m. to ten p.m., he can be our son. but at night, he’s all yours. i need my eight hours of sleep," you joked, and rafe gave you a mock disapproving look.

"unbelievable," he muttered, feigning indignation as he took the bear from you. "give me my son. you don’t even deserve him," he laughed, shaking his head as you giggled.

"let’s do the mirror palace," rafe said suddenly, grabbing your hand and pulling you toward the next attraction.

"oh, no," you groaned, a playful whine creeping into your voice. "i suck at mazes. do you know how many bruises i've gotten because of this place?" you complained as he led you into the line. he wrapped his arms around you from behind, pulling you close.

"you were probably between six and ten years old the last time you were here," he teased, his lips brushing your shoulder. "but don't worry, we’ll stick together. i’ll make sure we get out without any bruises."

you couldn’t help but smile at his reassurance, finding comfort in his presence. "okay," you agreed, your voice soft. "can we do the ferris wheel too?" you whispered, hopeful.

he gave you a tender smile and nodded. "we’ll do the ferris wheel, baby," he whispered back, his voice low and soothing as he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. you smiled faintly, feeling the warmth of his affection, and he kissed you again, his lips lingering for a moment before he pulled away.

the line for the maze isn’t long, and rafe makes the wait feel like nothing at all. "hey, two tickets, please," he says, voice low but casual as he pulls his wallet out, handing over a stack of bills. the cashier, with a soft smile, takes them, passing back two tickets with practiced ease. "here you go," she says, her tone polite but robotic, "no running and no backtracking. have fun." the words sound like a rehearsed mantra, something she'd said to every other person before.

"no backtracking?" you ask, your voice tinged with nerves as rafe laces his fingers through yours, pulling you toward the entrance. "what if we get lost? what if we—"

"baby, we won't get lost," he laughs, that deep, confident sound that always manages to settle your racing thoughts. he pulls you closer, wrapping an arm around your waist. he presses a soft kiss to the side of your head, the warmth of his lips grounding you. "this is a game for little kids. we’ll make it, no problem." you can’t help but smile, knowing he’s probably right. you nod, taking another step forward into the maze, the twisted corridors pulling you further in.

the maze is oddly quiet, aside from the occasional echo of laughter or giggling in the distance. the floors beneath your feet are dotted with glowing lights that form shifting patterns, while above, the ceiling is impossibly high—so high that you can't quite make out its end, thanks to the mirrored surface reflecting everything around you. it all feels like a strange dream, the kind where you’re falling endlessly but never quite hit the ground.

"god, this is so weird," you mutter, as rafe gently tugs you back just in time to avoid you running into yet another mirror. "i swear, we’ve been down this hallway already." you stop in your tracks, scanning your surroundings. rafe continues walking, but his hand, still clutching yours, halts him after a few steps.

"we haven’t been down this hallway yet," he says, looking over his shoulder at you. "i’d know." his tone is teasing, but you can’t help but raise an eyebrow.

"all the hallways look the same," you protest, "how would you know?"

"i’m a pro at this," he grins, tugging you closer. "you just don’t believe me." his hands settle on your waist, his fingers brushing the fabric of your shirt. "or trust me," he murmurs, lips barely grazing your ear as he pulls you even closer.

"i’m too young to die, and i can’t die in a maze, rafe," you whine softly, your voice barely audible. he chuckles, the sound warm against your skin.

"don’t be whiny," he teases, pressing a quick kiss to your lips before you can even respond. your arms instinctively wrap around his neck, pulling him closer.

"i’m not whiny…" you protest, though the words are muffled as his breath fans across your lips. your eyes flutter closed, and you exhale softly, the warmth of his presence overwhelming in the best way.

"really?" rafe’s voice is low and teasing as his lips brush against yours, barely making contact. "because you sound pretty whiny to me." his hands slide up your back, sending a chill through your spine as his lips trace the curve of your jaw. he pulls you flush against him, his body pressing into yours with a teasing urgency.

"rafe…" you sigh, words getting caught in your throat. you want to beg him to kiss you, to press you up against one of these endless mirrors and kiss you until you're breathless, but somehow, the words won’t come. instead, you lean into him, your lips chasing his in desperate need.

"yeah, pretty girl?" rafe’s voice is rough, husky, and it makes your knees feel weak. your heart races in your chest as you try to form a coherent thought, but all you can focus on is him. his presence. the heat between you. your lips are barely a breath away, and you lean in, chasing him as your fingers tangle in his hair.

he pulls away just enough for you to feel the loss, his lips brushing against your skin. "tell me," he insists, his voice barely a whisper, but it carries an urgency that makes your breath catch. he kisses everywhere but your lips, trailing soft, teasing touches along your jaw and neck. his nose skims your skin, the sensation making your body shiver.

"want you to kiss me…" you manage to murmur, almost begging, your hands tightening in his hair. rafe hums, the sound vibrating through your chest.

"wasn't too hard now, was it?" he whispers, his lips brushing against yours in a teasing mockery of what you’ve been yearning for. and before you can respond, his lips crash against yours. it’s frantic, hungry, as if he’s been waiting for this moment just as much as you. you’re pushed up against the mirror, the cool surface a stark contrast to the heat of his body.

his hands find their way to your waist, pressing you harder against him as his tongue slips into your mouth, coaxing a soft gasp from you. the kiss deepens, and it’s no longer just a kiss—it’s consuming, overwhelming, a blur of heat and touch. the world fades away, and all you can think about is rafe. his lips. his hands. him.

the kiss drags on, relentless, until you’re both left gasping for air. rafe pulls back slightly, brushing his lips against yours with a soft smile. "don’t think that’s ever gonna get old," he murmurs, his voice low and satisfied. he takes your hand, tugging you along deeper into the maze.

eventually, though, he does get you both out. you’d almost lost hope twice, ready to scream for help, but somehow, you made it out together.

with his hand nestled in yours, fingers laced together like a quiet promise, you wandered through the fair, the golden glow of string lights casting soft halos over the crowd. laughter and the distant chime of game bells filled the air as you played a few more rounds, the scent of caramel and fried dough clinging to the night. finally, you reached the ferris wheel, its towering silhouette outlined against the deep blue sky.  

"line's a little long," rafe noted, eyes flicking toward the slow-moving queue stretching toward the ticket booth. he exhaled, rolling his shoulders back. "i'm gonna head to the food stand and grab us something small while we wait. that okay?"  

you nodded quickly. "okay."  

he leaned down, brushing a soft kiss against your lips before you could say anything else. you caught his sleeve as he pulled away, adding, "can you also get me some water?"  

"mm, be right back," he murmured, squeezing your fingers before slipping into the crowd.  

left alone, you took the moment to respond to a few messages, the ferris wheel’s bright lights reflecting in your screen. the line inched forward, and just as you pocketed your phone, rafe reappeared, pressing a warm pretzel wrapped in a napkin into your hands.  

"here," he said, and you quickly took a bite, the buttery salt melting on your tongue.  

"you didn't get anything?" you asked, noticing he only held your bottle of water and a can of coke.  

"not hungry enough for anything right now," he shrugged, tucking his arm around your shoulder as the line moved forward again. without a second thought, you held up your pretzel to his lips.  

he grinned and took a bite, murmuring a muffled, "thanks," as he chewed. you smiled and leaned up, pressing a kiss to his cheek.  

at the register, rafe pulled out his wallet, handing over cash for two tickets. standing closer to the wheel now, he tilted his head up, studying it. "jesus," he muttered under his breath. "when you're this close, it’s really high..."  

you grinned, nudging him. "got a little fear of heights you forgot to mention?"  

he rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at his lips. "no fear of heights," he countered, feigning nonchalance. "just didn’t think it’d be this tall."  

when the attendant swung open the little cabin door, rafe let you step in first before sliding in beside you. the seat was softer than expected, and as the wheel began its slow ascent, he draped an arm around you, settling comfortably.  

"you can see the whole island from the top," you mused, eyes sparkling as you glanced at him.  

rafe smirked. "yeah?"  

"mm-hmm," you hummed, then added mischievously, "and don’t worry—it goes reallll slow."  

he huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "i’m not scared of heights," he insisted.  

"uh huh." you shrugged, taking another bite of your pretzel.  

the cabin continued its gentle climb, and a small window near the side caught your attention. curiosity got the best of you, and before rafe could react, you popped your head out for a better view. the wind brushed against your face, cool and sweet, but before you could even take it all in, rafe's hand was gripping your waist, tugging you back in with a firm urgency.  

"okay, that's enough," he muttered, brows drawn together, his jaw tight.  

you couldn’t help but laugh, the sound bubbling up as he shot you a glare that wasn’t nearly as serious as he wanted it to be.  

if he wasn’t so tense, you might’ve asked to go again. but seeing the way his shoulders stiffened, the way his grip on you lingered even after the moment had passed, you decided against it. you’d spare him—for now.

ooh! a photobooth!" you yell out, excitement bubbling over as you grab rafe’s hand and pull him toward the big red box in the distance. the glossy surface gleams under the carnival lights, and you practically bounce on your feet as you take in the example pictures displayed on the side. “look at this! i think it’s new…” your fingers trail over the smooth panel, eyes scanning the details. before you can even turn to ask rafe if he wants to take some, he’s already ducking inside, reaching back to tug you onto his lap with effortless ease.  

“let’s see…” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin as he scrolls through the options on the screen. you pull the small curtain shut, enclosing the two of you in the intimate space, the air thick with anticipation. “black and white or color?” rafe asks, his chin resting on your shoulder, voice low and unhurried. you tilt your head in thought before deciding, “uhh… black and white.” the choice feels right, timeless. you fish out a couple of coins from your pocket, sliding them into the slot with a soft clink. 

“okay, ready?” rafe asks, his blue eyes flickering with amusement as he watches you. you nod, grinning. but then a thought crosses your mind, and you blurt out, “wait, how many does it take?”  

“four, i think,” rafe replies just as the first flash goes off. instinctively, you stick your tongue out, only realizing after that your hair is a mess. laughter spills from your lips as you quickly try to smooth it down, but rafe is faster—his fingers weave through the strands, gently fixing it as the countdown begins again.  

“oh, god, the countdown is so fast!” you squeal, both of you scrambling to pose, but it’s useless—you end up just laughing at each other, faces flushed with amusement.  

“that one is cute. look at your smile,” rafe grins, tilting his head to study the preview. your cheeks warm at his words, a touch of shyness creeping in. rafe notices, his own smile softening before he leans in, pressing a kiss to your cheek just as the third picture snaps.  

the final countdown begins, and rafe’s fingers—gentle yet firm—grasp your chin, turning your face toward him. “last one,” he murmurs, a teasing glint in his eyes. you don’t hesitate. instead, you wrap an arm around his neck, pulling him in, lips meeting his in a kiss just as the last flash goes off.  

when you pull away, rafe chases your lips for a second, stealing another soft kiss before finally letting you slide off his lap. you push the curtain open, stepping out into the cool night air, the distant hum of carnival rides and laughter filling the space around you.  

seconds later, the photo strip slides out from the machine. you grab it eagerly, holding it up. “they came out so cute! look!” you beam, showing rafe as he steps beside you.  

his gaze flickers over the strip, a small smile tugging at his lips. “they did. the black and white looks good,” he agrees, his fingers effortlessly intertwining with yours as you both start walking again, your eyes still fixed on the little captured moments.  

they were perfect.

"i had so much fun, thank you for bringing me here," you say, glancing at rafe as the two of you walk through the parking lot, the cool night air settling over your skin. the distant hum of traffic, the flickering neon signs, the soft scuff of your shoes against the pavement—it all feels like a dream you don’t want to wake up from.  

"i’m happy you liked it," rafe replies, his voice carrying a certain secrecy that immediately piques your curiosity. "but the date’s not over yet."  

you blink at him, lips curling into a smile. "it’s not?"  

he shakes his head, the faintest smirk playing on his lips. "nope. one more surprise. now get in." he nudges you playfully, holding the passenger door open like the perfect gentleman he pretends not to be.  

your heart flutters as you slide inside, excitement buzzing through you despite the dull ache creeping into your feet. the night is stretching on, dark and velvety, but instead of feeling tired, you feel alive, giddy with the thought that the evening isn’t over yet.  

"can i try to guess this one?" you ask the moment you buckle in, eyes gleaming with anticipation.  

rafe chuckles, shaking his head as he starts the car. "you know, it wouldn’t kill you to let it be a surprise. ever heard of ‘curiosity killed the cat’?"  

"and what brought it back?" you counter smoothly, neatly tucking the photobooth pictures into your bag. "the truth."  

he scoffs, tapping his fingers against the wheel. "even if i gave you hints, you’d still be terrible at guessing."  

your mouth drops open in exaggerated offense. "no! your hints just suck!"  

"oh, my hints suck?" he laughs, shooting you a knowing look. "i literally said you might walk away with some prizes, and you thought i was taking you to a casino."  

you roll your eyes but can’t fight the smile stretching across your face. "it was a solid guess! a casino is a place where you can win things!"  

"try thinking about why i asked you to bring warm pajamas."  

you pause, tilting your head as you study him. he’s taking you somewhere cold, that much is obvious—but where? and why?  

the rest of the ride is spent grilling rafe, who remains infuriatingly tight-lipped, dodging every one of your guesses with a smug grin. the city lights blur past in streaks of gold and red, and eventually, the car rolls to a stop near the docks.  

you step out, scanning your surroundings. the air is thick with the scent of salt and freshly grilled seafood, the restaurants nearby buzzing with laughter and clinking glasses. but none of this explains why he told you to bring warm pajamas.  

he takes your hand and leads you past the restaurants, past the shops, past everything—until you’re stepping through a smaller, tucked-away entrance that spills out onto the docks, where at least fifty boats are lined up in neat rows.  

"are we getting on a boat?" you ask, glancing at him in surprise.  

he still doesn’t answer. just pulls you along, his grip firm but gentle.  

"rafe, i—"  

the words catch in your throat.  

because suddenly, you see it.  

a boat, different from all the others, its edges wrapped in warm golden lights that twinkle against the dark water. flower petals are scattered along the deck like something out of a dream. a table is set for two, draped in crisp white linen, with two gleaming cloches covering the plates beneath. and above it all, the sky is painted in breathtaking shades of pink and lavender, the last remnants of the sunset bleeding into the horizon.  

you don’t move. you don’t breathe.  

rafe steps onto the boat first, setting the bags down before turning back to you, his expression softer now, almost nervous. he holds out a hand. "c’mon."  

your fingers tremble as they slip into his.  

"rafe," you whisper, voice barely above the lapping of the waves, already feeling the sting of tears gathering behind your eyes.

rafe reaches behind you, fingers brushing against the back of the chair as he grabs something—then, turning back to you, he reveals a bouquet of flowers.  

"before you say anything, i just need to do this," he murmurs, voice quieter now, as he hands them to you.  

your hands tighten around the bouquet instinctively, but you barely register the softness of the petals, too caught up in the way his eyes flicker, how his throat bobs as he swallows.  

"there's a note inside," he continues, rubbing the back of his neck as if he's trying to steady himself. "i wasn’t sure if i’d be able to say what i needed to say, so i wrote it down. but now that you’re standing right in front of me..." he hesitates, glancing down at the bouquet, then back at you. "i think i want to read it to you."  

your breath catches.  

he reaches into the bouquet, pulling out a small, neatly folded note, his fingers careful as he smooths it open. the sun is dipping lower, casting everything in gold and amber, and for a moment, you just watch him. the glow of the fading light makes his features impossibly soft, the strands of his tousled hair illuminated like something out of a dream.  

his eyes scan the paper, then flicker up to you. he exhales sharply.  

"god," he mutters under his breath, shaking his head slightly.  

your brows pull together. "you don’t have to—"  

"no, no," he interrupts quickly, waving a hand. "it’s not that. it’s just... you—" he exhales again, almost frustrated with himself. "you look really good right now. i can’t think straight."  

your heart stumbles over itself.  

heat spreads across your cheeks, and you bite back a grin, stepping closer to him. "you’re awful."  

"i’m awful?" he scoffs, tilting his head at you, a smile curling at the edges of his lips. "you’re the one over there, completely wrecking my concentration."  

his voice is soft, teasing, and the way he’s looking at you—like there’s no one else in the world—makes your chest ache. without thinking, you rise onto your toes, pressing your lips to his in a gentle kiss.  

he kisses you back, slow and deliberate, like he’s savoring the moment. but as soon as your hand comes up to rest on his shoulder, he pulls away with a pointed look.  

"see?" he murmurs, shaking his head in mock exasperation.  

you throw your head back in laughter. "okay, okay! i’m sorry! you have my undivided, uninterrupting attention."  

his lips twitch into a smirk before he clears his throat, bringing his attention back to the note in his hands.  

his voice is steady as he begins to read.  

"last semester, our science teacher told us that romantic love activates the same brain regions as drug addiction—especially the dopamine reward system."  

he glances up at you briefly, the corner of his mouth lifting like he already knows how silly he sounds. but he keeps going.  

"at the time, i didn’t think much of it. honestly, i probably forgot about it five minutes later. but a week after our first tutoring session, that random fact came rushing back. because by then, i wasn’t just falling for you—i was being consumed by you. every little thing you did, every quirk, every expression. the way your eyes lit up when you talked about something so intricate i could barely follow. the way you smiled. the way you blinked, even."  

he pauses, his jaw clenching for a second before he continues.  

"i couldn’t understand why i couldn’t stop thinking about you—why you had settled so deeply into my mind, in my bones, under my skin. and then, suddenly, i did. that fact from last semester snapped back into place."  

his voice is quieter now, more careful, like every word is something he needs you to hear.  

"you’re the first thought in my mind when i wake up and the last thing i think of before i fall asleep. you are my favorite part of every day."  

you feel your breath hitch, your hands tightening around the bouquet.  

"i will always feel sorry for anyone who never gets the chance to know you the way i do—to be wrapped in your kindness, to hear your laughter over and over, to know what your lips feel like, to be loved by you."  

his gaze flickers up to yours, a quiet intensity in his eyes.  

"you are extraordinary, and i know you’re going to go places neither of us can even dream of."  

he hesitates, his fingers gripping the edges of the paper slightly, like the words are heavier now.  

"if you’ll let me, i’d be honored to stand by your side for as long as you’ll have me."  

a beat of silence.  

"will you be my girlfriend?"  

you don’t realize you’re crying until you’re frantically wiping at your face, nodding—nodding so hard it almost makes you dizzy.  

"yeah?" rafe breathes, a laugh slipping from his lips as he pulls you in.  

"yes!" you cry, grinning through the tears. "are you serious?"  

his hands cradle your face, his thumbs brushing away your tears as he shakes his head with a soft smile. "you can’t cry on our first date," he whispers, resting his forehead against yours.  

"you can’t make me cry on our first date," you sniffle, voice barely above a whisper.  

"touché," he murmurs.  

and then his lips find yours.  

the kiss is slow, unhurried—like he has all the time in the world. like he wants to take his time. his fingers slide into your hair, holding you close, and when you press against him, you don’t know if you want to smile or cry all over again.  

but you do know one thing.  

there is nowhere else you’d rather be.

rafe pulls away, his lips barely ghosting over yours as he exhales, his nose brushing against your skin like he’s memorizing the feel of you. “let’s sit, yeah?” his voice is low, gentle, and you nod, but not before pressing the softest kiss against his lips. he smiles against your mouth, then steps back, pulling out your chair with an effortless sort of grace. you settle into the seat, placing your flowers carefully beside you, the delicate petals brushing against your arm.  

your arms tighten around yourself as you take in the scene before you—an intimate table set under the open sky, flickering candlelight casting golden hues across the linen, the sound of the waves lapping gently against the boat. it’s beautiful, breathtaking, and it knocks the air right out of your lungs. your throat tightens as tears well up, your voice trembling despite your best effort to steady it. “how did you plan this all in one day?”  

rafe’s brows knit together like the question itself is absurd, and he reaches across the table, his hand warm as it closes over yours. “one day?” he echoes, shaking his head, his thumb tracing slow circles against your skin. “baby, i’ve been planning this for two weeks. three if you count the seven days straight i begged my dad for the boat.” he says it so matter-of-factly, like it was the most natural thing in the world to spend weeks making something perfect just for you.  

your breath stutters as you swipe at your damp cheeks with the back of your hand, overwhelmed. “t-this is…” the words get caught in your throat, and rafe watches you, his face soft with affection but laced with the slightest bit of concern.  

“baby.” he moves before you can blink, dropping to his knees beside your chair, his hands resting on your thighs as he looks up at you, all blue eyes and steady presence. “if i knew this would make you cry this much, i would’ve just taken you to mcdonald’s.” his lips twitch into a teasing grin, and the laugh that bubbles out of you is watery but real. you lean forward until your forehead touches his, exhaling shakily.  

“no, n-no, it’s perfect… i j-just…” you try to gather yourself, grounding yourself in the way his hands hold you like you’re something precious, something he never wants to let go of. you breathe deeply, eyes flickering between his. “i think i’ve been telling myself for so long that i didn’t want this—the romance, the grand gestures, all of it. convinced myself i didn’t need it, because it’s easier to not be disappointed by something when you’ve made yourself believe you never even wanted it in the first place. but now…” you swallow hard, your fingers curling against the fabric of his shirt. “this whole date, this entire day… it’s been incredible. and i can’t believe i let myself miss out on you for almost two decades.”  

rafe’s gaze flickers with something unreadable, something deep. he cups your face, tilting it ever so slightly. “i’m here now,” he murmurs, the words like a vow. “and i’m not going anywhere for at least another couple of decades.”  

he pulls you into his arms before you can respond, guiding you against his chest, his chin resting atop your head. his fingers thread into your hair, grounding, soothing. “i’m sorry i’m such a mess,” you mumble into the warmth of his skin.  

“you’re my mess,” he murmurs, lips pressing softly against your temple.

it takes five tissues and a few deep breaths before you’re composed enough to properly sit down and eat. you lift the cloche, and immediately, the rich steam curls into the cool evening air. the scent hits you next—warm, savory, mouthwatering, like something fresh out of a five-star kitchen. your eyes sweep over the dish, taking in the careful presentation, the attention to detail. “this looks delicious…” your voice is tinged with awe as you glance up at him, suspicious. “who made this?” a part of you half-expects a chef to step out from behind the mast.  

rafe leans back in his chair, smirking. “i did.”  

you arch a brow. “no, you didn’t. you were with me all day.”  

his grin deepens as he watches your skepticism unfold. “where do you think i went after i left your house this morning?”  

you narrow your eyes, still not convinced. and he just laughs, shaking his head like he can’t believe you’d doubt him.

"i should probably explain how i planned all of this," he says, voice smooth, almost sheepish, like he's letting you in on some grand secret. you nod, twirling your fork into the soft, buttery pasta on your plate, waiting for him to continue.

"this boat is my family's, but really, it's my dad's. no one touches it without his permission, and he’s very… very particular about it." rafe exhales a small laugh, shaking his head as if recalling some past scolding. "but i wanted to do dinner here. thought it’d be more fun, more private. so i asked him—begged him, really—promised i wouldn't break anything, or at least, i'd try not to." his lips curve into a smirk before he leans in slightly, his voice dropping as if this is the part that matters most. "and finally, when i told him i really wanted to impress you… he said yes." he watches your face, gauging your reaction. "i think he likes you, which is a first."

your heart lightens, the weight of uncertainty easing just a little. his father likes you? you hadn’t been sure.

"really? he seemed a little…" you hesitate, searching for the right word.

"frigid?" rafe supplies, already nodding like he knew that’s what you were going to say. "yeah, he’s cold. has a hard time showing affection, all that shit. but he’s a good dad. we have our ups and downs, but he loves us, wants the best for us—most of the time." there's something almost distant in the way he says it, like he's repeating a fact rather than feeling it, but you don't press.

he exhales, shaking off the moment. "anyway, the plan was always dinner. but then, after i picked you up from the elderly home two weeks ago, we went to the beach, and you said you wanted to start having more fun." he glances at you, eyes twinkling under the warm glow of the string lights. "so i started thinking—what’s fun? i mean, dinner’s great, dinner and a movie is great, especially with you, but i wanted something more. i thought about a roller rink, ice skating, maybe an aquarium or the zoo. but the fair just felt… right. versatile, fun, a little chaotic."

you smile, warmth settling in your chest. all of those options would have been perfect, because they'd be with him.

"initially, everything that happened yesterday wouldn’t have happened," rafe admits, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his features. you nod, a little sad at the reminder.

"the plan was simple. you’d stay over at mine, we’d be lazy, stay in bed till noon. my parents and wheeze were coming back at two, so i figured i’d leave you with her for a couple hours. topper’s dad owns the yacht club right by the dock, so topper set it up so we could use their kitchen. i was gonna cook, come back, pick you up, take you to the fair, and text topper when we were close so he could go back, heat up the food, plate it here, and leave." rafe shakes his head, smiling at how much effort it had taken. "same plan, really, except we were at your house instead of mine. i cooked, picked you up, took you to the fair, texted topper fifteen minutes ago, he came, reheated everything, plated it, and left."

you stare at him, stunned. "jesus… that’s…" you start, grinning as you shake your head in disbelief.

rafe laughs, running a hand through his hair before picking up his fork. "yeah. and i hope you like it, because this is literally the only meal i can make."

you chew, smiling against your bite. "you know, you could’ve saved yourself a lot of time if you just ordered the food."

he shrugs, like the thought had never even crossed his mind. "i wanted to cook for you."

your heart stutters, just a little. "well, it’s really good," you admit, nudging his foot lightly under the table. "even if it’s the only meal you can make."

he grins. "better than nothing."

it took nearly two hours to finish eating, though neither of you minded. conversation flowed so easily, conversation leading to laughter, to teasing, to the occasional soft gaze that lingered just a little too long. the food sat half-forgotten between you, growing cold while you got lost in each other. the whole evening made you forget—truly forget—every dark cloud that had loomed over you in the past months. none of it mattered here. none of it existed. all that was real was this moment, the warmth of rafe's presence, the way he looked at you like nothing else in the world held his attention.  

after the last bite, rafe took the wheel, guiding the boat a little further out into the open water. not too far—just enough so the shore looked like something out of a dream, the golden glow of restaurant lights stretching across the waves, bars and shops humming with distant life. you curled up together on the bow, your head rising and falling with his steady breath, his arms wrapped securely around you. the throw blanket, already there like it had been waiting for this moment, draped over both of you. when you tilt your head up, you find his eyes already on you, like he had been watching you all along.  

"thank you for this," you whisper, voice barely louder than the gentle slosh of water against the boat. "this has been the most fun night." your eyes glisten in the soft light, emotions swelling in a way that makes your heart ache in the best way.  

"you don’t need to thank me," he murmurs, brushing his lips over yours, a fleeting, teasing touch. "i did it with pleasure. you’re my favorite person to be around, baby."  

your smile is small, but it holds so much, and you find his lips again, kissing him once, then again, and again, unable to stop yourself. "still gonna thank you," you breathe, nuzzling into him. "i would've been happy with just a mcdonald’s date, but you went the extra… extra mile. you didn’t have to do that."  

rafe scoffs, his face twisting in a way that tells you he hates the mere thought. "you’re too good for a mcdonald’s date," he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. his lips trail down your jaw, slow and deliberate. "you’ve gotta know your worth…" the words are a murmur against your skin, his mouth lingering along your jawline, up to your ear. his teeth catch your earlobe gently, the softest bite, and your fingers dig into his bicep instinctively.  

"please…" the word leaves you in a breath, but the way it sounds—soft, needy—makes rafe tense for a beat.  

he pulls back just enough to meet your eyes. you’re so close your noses brush, sharing the same air. he’s asking you something without speaking, his gaze searching yours. you nod, slow and certain, and then his lips are on yours, the kiss stealing the breath from your lungs as he eases you down onto the soft cushions beneath you.  

the kiss is dizzying, has your mind floating, thoughts scattering like grains of sand in the wind. rafe kisses you like he’s been starving for it, like tasting you is the only thing that makes sense. his hands are impossibly warm, feverish against your skin, and soon he’s caging you beneath him, pressing closer, deeper. his lips leave yours only to travel down your neck, and your breath stutters, fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck.  

"rafe…" his name is barely a whisper, a plea, as your hands tug at the fabric of his shirt. you need him closer.  

he doesn’t make you wait. his shirt is off in a second, discarded somewhere in the dark, and his hands skim the hem of your top, fingers toying with the fabric before he pauses. his gaze finds yours again, softer this time. "you’re sure?" he asks, voice quiet, careful.  

you nod, your hands sliding into his hair as you pull him in, kissing him slowly, deeply. "i’m sure," you murmur against his lips.  

he pulls your top over your head, tosses it aside like nothing else matters but this. his mouth is on your skin immediately, mapping you out with slow, careful devotion, like he has all the time in the world. he kisses down your neck, lingers there, like he wants to memorize the way you shudder beneath him. his lips trail lower, between your breasts, his tongue and teeth leaving red marks behind—deep, burning reminders that you’ll feel long after the night is over.

"god, you're so fucking beautiful," rafe groans as he unhooks your bra with a precision that should be concerning—but the thought barely forms before his mouth is on you, his lips wrapping around your nipple, and suddenly, you can’t think at all.

your breath catches in your throat, a soft, shuddering gasp spilling from your lips as heat shoots straight through you. your fingers tangle in his hair, instinct taking over as you pull him closer, urging him on. "oh… oh—" the sound escapes you in a breathless whimper, pleasure twisting sharp and sweet through your body. your free hand fists the throw blanket beside you, lips parting as your head tips back into the pillow. the sensation is overwhelming, toeing the line between pleasure and something almost too intense, too much—but you don’t want him to stop.

rafe switches between your nipples, sucking and teasing until they’re left swollen, aching, but before you can even process the sensation, he’s moving lower, trailing open-mouthed kisses down your stomach. the warmth of his breath sends a shiver through you, but your mind stays hazy, pliant, following wherever he leads.  

two firm taps against your thigh. "up," he murmurs, and without thinking, you obey, lifting your hips like it’s second nature. he strips you bare in one swift motion, your skirt and underwear slipping down and away before you can so much as blink. the cool air kisses your exposed skin, but the heat of rafe’s mouth follows a moment later, his lips dragging slow, purposeful kisses from your lower stomach downward, inching closer, closer—  

your breath catches. he pauses. his gaze flickers up to meet yours, something dark and unreadable swimming in his eyes. "tell me you want it."  

at first, the words sound like nothing more than a demand, thick with lust. but when you really look at him—when you see the way he holds himself there, waiting—you realize he’s asking for more than just permission. he’s asking for certainty.  

"i want it," you whisper, the plea slipping out without hesitation, breathy and soft. "please…"  

something shifts in his expression, something unreadable yet electric, and then he’s gone—no, not gone—he’s there, right there, between your legs, his mouth stealing the very breath from your lungs.

the moment rafe’s tongue drags through your folds, pleasure slams into you so hard your mind blanks. your hands fly to your mouth, muffling the moan that tries to rip free, but it does nothing to quiet the way your body trembles beneath him. his grip tightens on your thigh, firm and unyielding, holding you in place as his tongue plunges deeper, tasting you, savoring you like a starving man.

everything else fades—thoughts, time, reality—until the only thing left is sensation. his mouth. his tongue. the slow, torturous way he builds you up, pushing you higher, higher, until you’re on the verge of tears.

"rafe… rafee…!" his name tumbles from your lips in a soft, breathless cry, your hips rolling helplessly against his mouth, desperate for more, for anything, for everything. your back arches, fingers tangling in his hair, clutching tight like you don’t know whether to pull him closer or push him away.  

he doesn’t stop. not as your body trembles, not as pleasure coils tighter, hotter, unbearable. not as tears burn the corners of your eyes, overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of it. he keeps going, tongue lapping and lacking along your sweet cunt, dragging you to the very edge of bliss until you’re trembling, right there, ready to break—  

and then he pulls away.  

"no… no, no—" the whimper leaves you before you can stop it, pure desperation twisting in your chest as your hands fumble down between your thighs, chasing the release he so cruelly denied. but before you can touch yourself, rafe tsks, catching your wrists with ease.  

"uh-uh," he murmurs, his voice thick with something dark and dangerous. still gripping your wrists, he rises to his knees, unbuckling his pants with deliberate slowness. the hunger in his eyes makes your breath stutter.

his bulge alone leaves little to the imagination, but when he finally pushes his pants down, your lips part slightly, breath hitching as you take him in.

you'd seen him before—felt him before, had his cock in your mouth, remembered how he'd stuffed your mouth, memorized the way he stretched your throat—but somehow, the reality of it fitting inside you hadn’t fully processed until now.  

your pulse quickens. there’s no way. no way in hell—  

but rafe is already leaning down, tilting your chin so your gaze locks with his and only his. his eyes are molten in the dim light, steady and unshakable as he brushes his lips over yours, a whisper of warmth. "trust me, yeah?" his voice is low, rough, but so, so gentle. "just gotta trust me… i’ll make you feel good, i promise." it's hard not to believe him.

your stomach flips, nerves twisting with something softer, something deeper. slowly, you nod, and rafe rewards you with a lingering kiss—soft, patient, meant to soothe.

as his lips trail down your jaw, your arms instinctively loop around his neck, pulling him closer. he keeps you distracted, kissing you deeply, pulling you under his spell as his hands guide your thighs apart.  

your breath stutters when you feel him there—thick and hot, his tip gliding through your slick folds, teasing, testing. your body tenses. "r-rafe…" you stammer, voice unsteady, eyes flying open to meet his.  

he’s already watching you.  

"you’re okay," he murmurs, pressing a reassuring kiss against your lips, his thumb stroking your hip. "you’re alright."  

then he’s pushing in, forcing your cunt to expand and take all of him and your eyes fill with tears.

your walls stretches around him, foreign and overwhelming, a gasp breaking free as you clutch at his hair, fingers curling tight. the stretch is slow, unrelenting, inch by inch as he sinks deeper, forcing you to take him, molding you to fit him.  

"breathe," he urges, his voice firm but soothing, and only then do you realize you’ve been holding your breath. you exhale shakily, thighs trembling around his hips.  

"fuck," rafe rasps, his forehead nearly touching yours, breath warm against your lips as he sinks into you, slow but deep, stretching you, filling you completely. the moment he starts to move, sliding in and out of your slick, trembling heat, a shudder wracks through you, pleasure blooming so intensely it steals the breath from your lungs.  

your nails dig into his shoulders, your body clinging to his instinctively, overwhelmed by the sheer depth of sensation. "oh god—rafe, god—" his name spills from your lips in a broken sob, tears burning at the corners of your eyes, not from pain, not from anything but the unbearable bliss of having him like this, of being his.  

you wrap your leg around his waist, and his body answers before his mind does, his hips rolling forward, pushing deeper, pressing impossibly close. a guttural groan rips from his throat, his hands gripping your hips like he never wants to let go. "fuck, baby," he groans, voice thick and ragged, "you feel so fucking good…"  

he thrusts into you again, and again, and again, each movement more intense than the last, like he’s trying to carve himself into you, like he wants to ruin you for anyone else, as if you weren’t already his.

rafe’s fingers dig into your hips, gripping so tight you think you’ll wear his bruises for days, a mark of this moment, of him. his thrusts are relentless, slamming into you, pushing you higher, higher, until the pleasure is so consuming it’s nearly unbearable. the ocean roars around you, but it’s nothing compared to the symphony of moans and breathless cries spilling from your lips, to the desperate slap of skin against skin as he takes you apart piece by piece.  

he looks wrecked—utterly, beautifully ruined—his jaw clenched, eyes dark and hazy, drowning in lust, in you. "fucking christ," he grits out, voice wrecked, nearly a growl, his head tipping back as your walls flutter around him, gripping him like you never want to let him go.  

you can’t think, can’t form a single coherent thought beyond the white-hot pleasure slamming into your every nerve. he fucks you senseless, over and over, hitting that devastating spot inside you again and again until you’re sobbing, whimpering, utterly wrecked beneath him.  

"rafe… m��gonna— i can’t— n-need—" you babble, voice breaking, tears slipping down your cheeks as the pleasure coils tighter, unbearable, uncontrollable.  

"hold it," he pants, forehead brushing against yours, his own restraint fraying, his body trembling with the effort. you want to obey, want to listen, but you can’t—god, you can’t. "please… please!" your voice is nearly unrecognizable, high and desperate, trembling as he shifts, lifting your thigh higher, forcing himself even deeper.  

"just a little longer, babygirl," he rasps, mouth trailing over your parted lips, kissing you like he’s savoring your surrender. but you can’t kiss him back—you can’t do anything but take it, take him, take every last ounce of pleasure he gives you.  

"i c-can’t… can’t—!" your body is wrecked, overstimulated, pushed past the point of reason as he pounds into your already trembling, sore cunt.  

"that’s it," he groans, voice tight, desperate. "so fucking good, baby… doing so good for me." his rhythm falters, thrusts growing sloppy, more frantic, his control unraveling as he chases his own high.  

"cum, baby."  

his words crash over you like a tidal wave, and before you can even process it, you’re breaking—shattering—pleasure detonating through you so violently your vision goes white. your entire body trembles, clenches, your mind floating into oblivion as you come harder than you ever have, tears slipping from your lashes, lips parting in a silent scream.  

your heart is racing, hammering so wildly you think it might just burst right out of your chest.

rafe eases out of you carefully, and you wince at the overwhelming sensitivity, your body thrumming with the aftershocks of pleasure. his hands are on you instantly, soothing, tracing gentle circles along your waist as he watches you with quiet concern. "you good?" he murmurs, voice low, intimate, like it’s just the two of you in the whole world.  

even as exhaustion settles deep in your bones, as every muscle in your body hums with the ache of what you’ve just done, you nod. "that was…" you trail off, searching for the right words.

rafe’s lips twitch, but he stays quiet, waiting, his blue eyes filled with something unreadable. then, playfully, he tilts his head. "good..? bad..? overwhelming..? underwhelming..?" he teases, voice soft, coaxing, and that boyish grin—the one that always gets you—spreads across his face. even like this, damp skin glowing under the moonlight, hair a wild mess, he looks devastatingly beautiful.  

you smile, stretching out the anticipation before answering. "really, really, really…" you pause just to see him raise a brow at you. "good. like, seriously, mind-numbingly good."  

rafe chuckles, the sound warm and low, and he leans in to press the gentlest kiss to your lips. "yeah," he whispers against your mouth. "you did give me that impression."  

you laugh, giving his chest a weak shove, and he just grins, sinking down beside you with a deep, satisfied sigh. his arm curls around your waist, and instinctively, you tuck yourself against him, head resting over his heart, listening to its steady, soothing beat.  

a few beats of silence pass before he breaks it, voice amused. "you know there’s a bedroom down there, right?"  

your head snaps up, eyes narrowing. "rafe. are you serious?" disbelief laces your voice as you gesture to the makeshift bed and the throw blanket tangled around your legs. "we had sex here when there was a perfectly comfortable bed waiting right below us?"  

he’s already laughing, pulling the blanket higher over your shoulders as he tugs you even closer. "but now you can say you’ve had sex under the stars," he offers with a smirk, like it’s the best selling point in the world.  

you roll your eyes, but your lips betray you, curling into a smile as you settle against him again. "yeah, that’s really something i’m gonna go brag about," you say dryly, and rafe chuckles, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead.  

your heart swells, impossibly full, and when you lift your head, his lips graze yours, the touch so light it’s barely there. then, in the quiet, in the peace of the night, he whispers, "i love you…"  

you kiss his nose, his cheek, then his lips, slow and tender. "i love you too."

a.n —  they finally did it. YAY. i hope this was up to everyone's standards. more coming soon. leave a comment cause i rlly love to chit chat with y'all!

chapter index — next. chap

taglist — @rafeysworldim19 @my-name-is-baby @pogueprincesa @fveapplestall @chalametlover444 @slutglimreqpers @uarmyhopeworldwide @junxe3 @bakuhoethotski @wintercrows @magicalflowerstranger @kinderwh0r3 @bigjuli444 @singlethreadofivy @stylestarkey @squirreljoe

let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist & interact with post to remain tagged <3

[kikidoul]

── SECRET HANGOUTS.

໒꒰ྀི ^ ⸝⸝ ^ ꒱ྀིა 西村 力 x fem! reader content established+secret relationship non-idol au high school au ᥫ᭡ warning explicit sexual content semi-public sex pussy eating fingering begging degrading kink dacryphilia riki being a tease (what else's new) . . . !? 1325— mlist.

note. another reupload from my previous blog heh. had to edit some parts but majority of it is still the same. don't like then don't read. taglist. @tfwbluu

Being the president of the student council means everyone has high expectations of you. It also means that you’re constantly under pressure, having to deal with many events. Currently, you are preparing for the upcoming prom that will be held in four months time. Thankfully, your fellow club members were generous enough to lend a helping hand. You were grateful for their support, making a mental note to treat them bubble tea once the prom was over. 

“...And that’s it for today. Does anyone have any questions?” You asked, turning to face the audience but everyone shook their heads, you nodded. 

“Alright, then you can go. Enjoy your weekend!” You bid them farewell, staying behind as you packed your things, switching off the projector while waiting for your laptop to shut down.

“I knew I’d find you here.” 

You sighed, not bothering to raise your head at the familiar smug voice interrupting the silence. “Why are you here, Riki?” 

“I’m here to bless my girlfriend with my presence. What else would I be here for?” He replied, acting innocent despite how he had already locked the door behind him, approaching you with intent. 

This time, you raised your head, ready to reprimand him, only for you to yelp when Riki easily pinned you against the desk, pushing the stack of papers aside, moving them dangerously close to the edge. Your breath hitched in your throat when he leaned in, engulfing your senses in his cologne—woody and citrus. His eyes darkened, flickering down to your parted lips and he took the leap of faith, sliding your lips together. You wasted no time in returning the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck as Riki made you sit on the desk. 

You parted your legs, allowing him to situate himself between them. An involuntary shiver ran down your spine when you felt his hand trailing up your thighs, snaking its way underneath your knee-length skirt. Your legs instinctively shut when Riki teasingly dragged his hand across your soaked panties, locking his hand in place. 

“Riki, not here,” you whimpered, allowing him to spread you apart as you were being pushed back until you were laying on the desk. 

“Shh, it’s fine. No one��s around anymore. It’s just you and me but try to be quiet,” he hushed you, flipping your skirt up, revealing your cute white lacy panties. His eyes were fixated on how the thin fabric was soaked with your arousal, the sight sending heat straight down to his cock. 

“Look at you, you’re soaking wet. Did it turn you on that you’re doing this in the council room?” He grins, pulling down your panties and tossed it to the ground, not caring where it landed. 

“Riki, please!” You pleaded, slightly raising your head to look at him, giving him your best puppy eyes. 

“Fuck, you’ve no idea what you do to me, princess,” he cursed, wasting no time in diving in, as if he had been starved for a month. 

You barely remembered to muffle the moans that crawled its way up to your throat, slapping a hand over your mouth. Riki was ruthless and it shows in the way he eats you out. He parted your puffy lips apart with his fingers, slipping a finger in and his tongue at the same time. Your back arched off the desk at the long and slow glide of the wet muscle. The first time you’ve done this, Riki was awkward and shy but as time went on, he soon learnt what he can do to make you fall apart, reducing you to a whimpering and moaning mess. 

He glanced up, only to pause his ministrations when he saw how you were holding back your noises. Riki moved away, eliciting a shaky whine of protest from you. 

“Riki, why?” You sniffled, frustrated tears pricking your eyes, blurring your vision. 

“Aw, does my sweet angel want to come?” He coos in a faux sweet tone. The desire to see you cry grew stronger and stronger. 

“P-Please,” you pleaded, making grabby hands at him with your lips curling down in a pout, trying to make yourself as appealing as possible to your boyfriend. 

Riki smirks, leaning down again to kiss your clit, savoring the way you bucked your hips; craving for more. “Of course, who am I to deny you, princess?” 

He didn’t wait for your response, now full-on attacking your poor cunt with short and quick flicks of his tongue. This time, he added another finger, easily sliding in until he was knuckles deep. Riki skillfully angled his long, thick fingers, brushing them against the spot that made you see stars exploding in your vision. 

“Oh god, R-Riki, I’m gonna—!” You panted, feeling the familiar ache between your thighs and how your muscles tightened. Riki merely hums; the vibration is enough to tip you over the edge. Your eyes rolled back and your boyfriend eagerly drank in what you had to offer, not wanting to waste a single drop. 

You calmed down after reaching your climax, panting heavily to catch your breath. You were only granted three seconds of temporary peace before your ears registered the sound of Riki pulling down his pants. You squeaked when he pushed your legs up onto his shoulders. 

“W-Wait—” You protested, only for the words to die in your throat when he stuffed you full of his cock, splitting you open for him. Your insides were practically rearranged and made to take him with no difficulty. 

“You’re still so tight even after I prep you,” he groans, already sounding ragged and out of breath. Riki leans down, one hand grabbing your chin so he could crush his lips against yours in a messy and filthy kiss, allowing you to taste yourself. 

You were struggling to keep up with him, feeling the breath getting knocked out of your lungs when he started moving, hips snapping against yours at a frantic pace. If you were in the comfort and privacy of your home, Riki would love to take his time with you but since you were in a public setting, he had to be quick. His lips eagerly swallowed your angelic sounds. Breaking the kiss, he moved down your neck, clumsily pulling down your blouse to leave hickeys on your unblemished skin. 

“S-So good, ngh! M-More,” you groaned, unable to get enough of the delirious sensation of his cock sliding in and out, hitting the deepest parts of your cervix. 

“Yeah? You like that, princess? How would everyone think if they were to see you like this? Drunk on a bad boy’s cock, like the cockslut you are,” he sneers, his degrading words making you mewled. 

“Maybe I should fuck you in front of everyone and show them your true self,” he continues, voice lowering an octave with the right amount of raspiness, enough to drive you crazy. 

“Riki, hah, don’t stop,” you moaned, getting drunk on the intoxicating feeling. 

You faintly heard him cursed under his breath and he quickened his pace, driving the both of you to your climaxes. You squirmed when he emptied his load inside of you, feeling full of his come. Riki pulls out, quickly swiping your panties off the floor and pulls them up. 

“We don’t want to let it go to waste, do we?” He grins at your noise of discomfort. 

You glared at him, slowly pushing yourself off the desk, only for your legs to buckle. Seeing this, Riki steadied you with one hand on your waist while the other rested on your back.

“Whoops.”

“This is your fault, so you better take responsibility,” you retorted, already regretting what you said when he grins. 

Riki leans in so he could whisper into your ears. “Oh I will, princess, don’t worry. I think you should worry more about whether you can handle it or not.” 

Looks like you might have to take a sick leave for tomorrow… 

[hoshigray]

Hello (◍•ᴗ•◍)

I really like your work it's so good!! And i saw your request is open soooo

Can i request delinquent/bad boy sukuna x student council president reader? Like they hate each other bc reader is very strict with the rule while sukuna just break it anyway. One day, sukuna saw the reader in a party which make him confused bc reader is not the type to do fun stuff. And moments later they fuck

Sorry if this is a very detailed request. Feel free to ignore it or change it :3

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: oh my, another sukuna req! things bout to get hot, hehe~

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Sukuna x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern setting; Sukuna and you are college seniors - blackmail - fingering (f! receiving) - anal fingering (f! receiving) - oral (m! receiving) - facials - use of a phone; sexual photography - impact play (spanking) - full nelson position - degradation (cumslut, pig, slut, whore) - humiliation - overstimulation - pet names (brat, princess, woman) - dick piercing (frenulum) - usage of drugs & alcohol - mention of drool/spit and tears.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.7k

Sukuna was grinning ear to ear as he marched his way toward you. “Y/n.”

You perked at your name, and your face contoured to brief shock before shifting to mild annoyance. “Sukuna.”

Running into you at a huge party was the last thing Sukuna expected to see. But it’s a situation he will take advantage of expeditiously. 

College is hard enough being the top dog of the student government association and trying to juggle senior classes. It is your job to keep the school and its students in order, maintaining a pretty face as it’s been doing decently for the several years before you. The entire student body knows you take your job seriously, earning the respect they give you with every step you take and being praised by professors and faculty alike — even being invited to have dinner with the university president along your association! 

But of course, it’s not all sunshine and rainbows because there are always downsides to the good — one of them being a ginormous thorn to your being. 

Ryōmen Sukuna is a man you’ve been dealing with for almost four years. Known for his intimidating cadence whenever he walks the halls, the brutality of his moves as he’s the famous trump card of the school’s jiu-jitsu club, and his cold and demeaning manner of speech when talking down to others he deems beneath him, he is regarded at the campus’ “demon dog.” Someone that many can never believe is the older brother of the freshman track star sweetheart, Yuuji Itadori.

He is a person that many say is the complete opposite face when compared to you, a fact you have no choice but to agree with a twitching brow. Looking through all the disruptive students you’ve dealt with, Sukuna would be crowned King for being the most colossal nuisance of your life. Whether it be reporting him to the campus police for picking fistfights with the juniors, smoking in smoke-free zones, adding more tattoos to his face and arms, or willingly trashing places because he thinks he can, no one has been more subject to give you more grey hairs. He just doesn’t listen — he won’t listen! 

And the worst part is that he enjoyed making your life a living hell. God, he’s such a fucking bastard, not wanting to deal with outside of your academic life.

…Until you two see each other from across the living room where a huge party is held in one of the off-campus apartments, perplexed crimson eyes locked on with widened ones, too shocked to take a sip of your drink from your red solo cup. You immediately turned to the group before you, hoping the sea of kids and the bouncing bass could distort your image from his vision. 

Too late; the salmon-haired senior couldn’t hide the grin on his face as he slithers past people to get to where you are. Students move out of the way for him to move, the group you were hanging with gasps with wary stares, and Sukuna taps your bare shoulder. 

“Never figured the student government president would be here,” his voice was chilling as always. Yet you remain a neutral face when facing him. “Something tells me there isn’t apple juice in that solo cup.”

The group you were hanging out with instantly excused themselves to somewhere else in the apartment, leaving you alone with Sukuna. You rolled your eyes, “What is it, Ryōmen?” You feel disgusted as his red eyes scan your figure, taking in the off-shoulder, long-sleeved bodycon dress you were wearing. True, you don’t wear stuff like this all the time, but you can’t expect this bastard to have any amount of decency or subtlety. 

“Whatcha doin’ here, prez?” God, you hated him calling you that, knowing good and damn well what your name was — but, again, why would he bother; not respecting you enough to do something simple as that. “Isn’t this kind of thing what you’re against for and all?”

“Hmph, am I not allowed to have some fun at a party I was invited to?” You furrowed your brows and took an aggressive sip. “Besides, this is off-campus housing; the property owners are the ones who’ll have anyone’s asses if stuff breaks or cause disruption against the codes.” 

“Oh, so the uptight President is off duty this time? Hmm, ain’t that something,” he leans against the wall beside you with crossed arms. Your gaze was averted to the crowd bumping and grinding rather than acknowledging the delinquent examining you. “I figured you’d be somewhere pulling your panties to some poor bastard.”

“Watch your tone when talking to me, Ryōmen,” you finally send him a glare through your peripherals. It humored him, a devilish chortle you could hear even through the loud bass. “Lucky for you, I’m only here to have a good time with some friends before heading home to assignments. So, do me a favor and don’t start shit for me to take home and stress over.” 

He lifts a brow, “Is that so? Miss Prez came to let loose, huh.” You didn’t like how he said that — nor how he moved to lean closer to you. His cologne disrupts your nostrils. “Never thought you had that side of you.”

“There are many things you don’t know about me, Ryōmen,” you swing your cup around with a scoff. “And I’d prefer to keep it that way.”

And you thought you’d win this round as Sukuna doesn’t say anything to you for a few seconds. However, the man goes through his pocket to pull out his phone to pull up something. And when he finds it, he flashes the screen to your direction. “You mean things like these?” You turn to look at the device, and your eyes go wide with an agape mouth. What he was showing were photos — a whole lot — of you. 

“You know, I’m sure it must be hard being president of the student body; that’s why I don’t envy you,” one photo shown is of you smoking in the Honors Lounge with a few of your student government associates, an action undoubtedly prohibited within the facilities. “So, I can’t blame you when you decide to settle down and let yourself go for a minute,” he swipes his finger to pictures of you drinking liquor with some other students who smoke blunts and have weed plastered on the coffee table. “However, you really outta be careful with what you’re doing, Y/n; you got people who look up to you and expect so much from you.” Another picture shows you at some dark nightclub with a guy friend, shoving middle fingers and sticking tongues out at the camera. 

Your lips quiver with every swipe, and lips quiver, “Wh…Where did you get those…”

“Hmm? I can’t share that information. Heh, plus, I like to keep tabs on those who can get on my nerves,” he stuffs the phones back into his dark jean pocket. “But I can’t lie; the more I look at those pictures and compare them to the little president that nags too damn much, I can’t help but wonder what would happen if someone were to leak these out for the whole school to see. Which would drop quicker: your presidential scholarship and accolades or your reputation?”

“You fucking asshole…!”

You swiftly throw your cup at Sukuna, but the pink-haired man dodges easily and grabs your wrist — the poor guy behind him gets drenched with your drink. “Hey!” The guy grabs Sukuna’s shoulder and is immediately met with the infamous death glare. “…My fault, bro, don’t worry about it. I’ll go dry off,” the student says while backtracking away from those fearsome eyes. 

You’re trembling with vexed shakes; the hand on your wrist holds you tight with no sign to let go unless necessary. Otherwise, you know he’ll break it if you make one wrong move. “…What the hell do you want from me?“

Now Sukuna has you in the palm of his hand — his sinister grin growing as he leans closer to be inches away from your face. “My apartment is on the top floor; you have ten minutes to get your ass up there,” you don’t move a centimeter when he draws near your ear to whisper. “I’ll show you how to really get loose, Miss President.”

The words felt like sharp daggers to your throat, “You…devil.”

He snickers into your ear, “Pick your poison, and you’ll see just how much of a devil I can be.”

And with that, Sukuna straightens himself up and heads out, his frame disappearing deep into the crowd till you can’t see him anymore. Your heartbeat goes at a pace way too irregular to call ordinary, and your blood too cold as it has your skin suffer in shivers. 

This was a nightmare — an absolute, horrifying nightmare. There’s no way the guy that you hate with your very guts just blackmailed you! This was not how this night was supposed to go; now your whole reputation — what you’ve built with your own two hands — is being held in front of you and is dependent on going to this asshole’s apartment. Who the hell does he think he is!?

You didn’t want to go. You wouldn’t go! Especially under the premise of that fucker, playing with your life like some toy. Your thoughts were inner turmoil, challenging your morals and conscience on what to do. Your pride was trying to pull up a good fight, holding onto whatever dignity you have to validate not going up on the elevator and seeing Sukuna for what he’s about to do to you. They’re just pictures; people will think they’re edited or question if they’re valid!

However, the fact that you spent five minutes going back and forth with this suggests those were anything but pictures. He had ammunition to bring you down — to humble and look down on you — and have everyone do the same, no matter what you could say to justify yourself. So, swallowing your ego, you exit the party and walk the hallway down to the elevator. Every floor you ascended made you feel small, and when the doors opened for you to step out and you saw him leaning on his door waiting for you, your fate had been sealed. 

The same smirk he had at the party was plastered on his face. You were no longer in control of the situation; you are now in his domain — and you should follow his commands to keep up.

“Gahhh! Mmmph, Ryooo, stop—Eeek! Y’re hitting so ha—Ahhh!”

“What? You thought I was going to be easy with you? After all those times you’ve pestered me to no end? Hah, think again, prez.”

Being in the same space with Sukuna is something you never comprehended happening civilly in all your years of knowing him. Now, being laid on top of his knees as he sits on the edge of the bed is jarring in its own sentence. The skirt of your dress was pulled up, your ass and panties out for the cool air to caress. Not until Sukuna rips you off your underwear and starts giving your bare butt unforeseen strikes. The impact of his hand was so harsh that you gripped his jean-clad leg with a scream. 

He goes about this for a solid five minutes, giving your asscheeks slaps – and your cries have him chuckle and do some more. And you can’t squirm out of his hold, or else he’ll dent the skin of your butt with his fingertips, piercing into the tense muscle to inflict pain like no other. God, it hurt so bad, every smack taking your breath away. 

“Look at you,” he coos, rubbing his hand on the hot skin. The pain was so bad to the point of your eyes watering; simply hovering his Hand over you was enough to have you in shudders. “Whatever happened to the poised and resilient Y/n who’d always dare threaten me for my behavior? This person on me, screaming like a whore, can’t be the same Y/n.” 

You grit your teeth, turning over your shoulder to express your seething glare. “Who are you calling a whore, you fucking—Deeeii! Ohhh!” Sukuna sneaks a forefinger inside your wet cunt, not bothering to warn you. “Wai—Tahhh! Take it out, take it out right—Noooh!!”

“Oh, don’t even think you’re in any position to tell me what to do, slut,” you bite your lip as he moves his finger into your vagina with such merciless vigor. “And with how you’re crying like a bitch, you sound pretty whore-ish to me.”

Oh, go fuck yourself! You could have told him that — but you didn’t because he squeezes in his middle finger to insert inside your tight chasm, both digits now rummaging inside your vaginal walls and scraping them to the point of drooling babbles on your part. You couldn’t think of anything, not when he’s still throwing smacks on your ass with his free hand. You can’t even wipe the spit that comes down your lips because he distracts you with more jabs to your inner walls and pinches to the skin of your butt. Fuck, fuuuck!!

And it gets worse when you feel his thumb dance around your asshole. “N–No, stop it, Sukuna! That’s dirty, don’t—Mmnaahh!!” He slips it inside without care; the pain of his thumb forcing inside your puckered anus almost has you shut down.

“That’s the point, prez,” he bites his lip with a pestilent snicker. “Gonna make you so fucking dirty tonight, wanna ruin that perfect image of yours that you don’t recognize yourself. He scratches your butt, resulting in you clamping onto his digits with a grip that feeds his ego. “Mhmm, just like that, princess.”

How dare he play with your ass like a toy and have the nerve to call you that? Such a sick man; the hate you have for him boils your blood to no end. “Ahhh, stoop, too fast, please, go slo—Mmmph!?”

He shoves two fingers in your mouth to stifle your cries. “That’ll keep you from squealing, fucking pig.” And he continues to toy with your slit and anus, your whimpers muffled by his thick fingers.

“Take it all in, Y/n, every single fucking inch, ya hear?…Mmmm, yeah, deep in your throat like that.” 

This. Is. The. Worst! There’s absolutely no way you’re sucking Sukuna’s cock right now; this is the very last thing you’d want to be doing! He’s standing with his dark jeans and briefs on his thighs, his hand on the back of your head to make sure your mouth remains on his dick at all times. If you could, you would’ve chewed the damn thing off and made a run for it. 

But you came here for a reason, so you keep your disdain at bay and begrudgingly suck on Sukuna’s glans, having the salmon-haired man purr from above you. And it doesn’t help that he holds his phone to take pictures of you and said add more to his collection. God, he’s so disgusting…

“Fhhh, fuck, that feels good,” he groans at you taking his girth. Your lips down to the hilt, burrowing his length deep into the warm, tight tunnel of your throat. “Who woulda thought the strict, by-the-book Y/n would take in dick so well?” You narrow your eyes at him as you bob your face up and down, earning a hearty chuckle from the pleased man. “That face of yours, baby, so furious with me, huh.”

You try to pay him no mind, distracting yourself with the task at hand by licking one of his balls before sucking them. Your hands increase in speed when stroking him, having the man above unable to stop bucking his hips to your fist for more enviable friction. 

“Shit, yeah, yes,” he throws his head back in bliss, and you can tell he’s about finished while feeling his cock pulsate under your touch. “Bring your face here.”

He does it for you – his hand on your head for a reason – and forces you close to his cock before he jerks himself for release. And his come exudes with a force, landing right on your face. You fight every fiber of your being to move away, accepting his essence to paint your cheeks, nose, and lips. It was unbelievable how disgracious he was, just plain selfish and unapologetically nasty. 

You hear the phone snap, throwing another scowl at the pink-haired responsible. “Lookin’ like a real cumslut for me, prez.”

And the worst part of all finally comes around — the thing you dreaded once you stepped out of that party and into that elevator.

“—Fffaaahh! Hooohshiiit! This is crazy—Eeeee!”

“Fuckin’ shit, you’re tight as hell, woman…Khhh…! Tryin’ to milk me dry, huh, Y/n…”

Sukuna lies beneath you with his legs bent away, his arms wrapped underneath your legs, and pushing them to your chest from behind. His cock is entombed inside your leaking slit as he thrusts up to you with every second, and the sound of your ass smacking onto his thighs fills the space.

He has his hands behind your neck, demanding you to look at the union of your sexes, and your face couldn’t get any hotter than watching the obscenity. He’s been fucking you for more than ten minutes now, his cum inside you from the last round stains a white ‘o’ around the base of him, and the sticky substance so vulgar to look at it stretching with his push and pull motions. And the squelching – the goddamn squelching! – it only furthered the fog clouding your mind.

There was no point concealing your wails; your lips were forced open with every jab from Sukuna. Jesus, he was so fucking big — your poor cunt stretched to accommodate his intrusion. You clamp onto him more when he pulls, the barbell piercing his frenulum and scraping your walls from the descent and grazing your G-spot.

“Fuck, fuuuck, hsssh…!” It was hard to concentrate on anything outside of this, and you couldn’t tell if you were speaking adequately or prattling like some sex-crazed fool. You sigh with rolled eyes when he sends sporadic ruts out of nowhere, clenching onto his shaft with a tug. 

It has Sukuna groan hotly, his breath steaming your skin. “Holy fuck, you really love gripping my cock, don’t you, princess?”

“I–I can’t help it! You keep ’n hit—Haishhh!” Your eyes meet the ceiling at the jab of your A-spot, the pressure making you feel full. “You—hic—…Yo’re the one m’king me like thisss…”

“Is that right?” He takes slow thrusts to draw out your pleasure; your broken howls were music to his ears. “Sounds like the to be enjoying yourself.” You hurriedly shake your head no, and he throws a bitter pound to your hypersensitive chasm. “Brat, why the hell else are you milking me like this for, then?” 

“Becauseee, it feels��.Mmmm,” No, you can’t say that. Don’t tell him what he wants to hear.

“Hmm? Feels what?” You can hear the smirk on his lips. You don’t say anything except muffled hums, so he probes you, “You want me to send out those pictures, huh? Show just how much of a terrible president you are, how you love to go dumb on my dick?”

Of course not! “Do—Don’t you dare…!”

“Then answer the question: how does it feel, hmm? Tell me, how do you feel being fucked by the guy you hate so much?”

Oh, damn you, Ryōmen Sukuna! It was now you shed a tear, your hands grabbing for his forearms for purchase. 

“—Fucking ‘ell, it feels good,” you said it, your last bit of dignity finally thrown for the man to shred apart. “Feels ‘oo good, you make me feel—Geheehh…so damn good…!”

Oh, that was more than enough for him. Sukuna’s sneer becomes broader, and his chuckles are felt from your back. “What a dirty bitch for me, princess…”

His hips go back to an unsteady fashion, propelling his dick to his base, and the brushes of his piercing massage your walls too precisely. It doesn’t take long for your orgasm to come crashing down on you with a scream, the walls of your cunt contracting around Sukuna for the third time that night. Your nails dig into his arms, and drool leaves your pretty agape mouth as he allows you to ride out your climax.

Sukuna whistles at the sensation of you fluttering on his girth. “Phew, damn, that was a good fuck. You know how to keep up with me, woman; you’d make a great pet.”

You were sick of him, gulping to wet your dry throat. “Delete…the fucking…pictures.” Your empty threat only has him click his tongue with a scoff.

“Not so fast there, prez; the fun was just getting good.” Your heart sinks to the soles of your feet. “So, be a good brat and know your place is under me tonight.

requests/thirsts are open hehe~ 🧸

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ☆ header edit done by me + dividers by @/benkeibear.