#i hate how fucking small this makes me feel

[rafesangelita]

♡ when rafe finally let’s his friend have a taste..

warnings: dealer!rafe, heavy teasing, both rafe and barry are bullies in this, threesome, oral (f. receiving), praise, groping

a/n: i know the celebration req says topper and barry, but i want to slowly start introducing barry to this blog so i excluded topper in this one.. don’t worry though, topper will be in another fic this week ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა

“we won’t be here for long, alright? i don’t wanna hear you whining while i’m doing business, got it?” you hummed, rafe’s words going in through one ear and right out the other as you followed him up the steps to barry’s trailer. despite having been here plenty of times already, you couldn’t help but get shy and hold onto rafe’s arm whenever barry opened the door and flashed you a wink while giving you a full view of that gold-glinted smile of his as you brushed past him to get inside the cluttered living room. “lookin’ pretty as always..” he drawled, motioning for you to take a seat on the dingy sofa.

glancing at rafe, he gave you a nod before him and barry walked into the kitchen and started discussing their profits. you already knew the drill at this point; sit pretty and watch whatever old movie barry’s shitbox of a tv currently played until you grew bored and bothered rafe to take you home. losing count of the minutes you had been in the same spot, you sighed out loud in hopes of rafe hearing you. barry caught it first, his eyes flickering up to where you rested your cheek on the armrest of the couch. you looked heavenly just lying there, your babydoll dress fanning out around your thighs.

“i think someone’s ready to go home.” he laughed, drawing rafe’s attention away from the scale in front of him. “ignore her, she’s only going to keep on with her shit—” rafe didn’t even get to finish his sentence before he felt the sheer material of your dress brush against his arm. “can i sit here, please?” he hated how sweet you sounded asking him, an annoyed huff leaving his lips as he hastily brought you down onto his lap. “don’t go touching nothing.” he scolded just as you had reached for the journal they were doing their math and inventory in.

barry snorted, shaking his head as you retracted your hand, pursing your lips together before leaning back against rafe’s chest. sitting on the couch wasn’t any different, considering rafe still acted like you weren’t in the same room with him while you fiddled with a loose thread on the collar of his shirt. you only took five minutes of his negligence before wrapping your arms around his neck, whispering a small ‘please touch me, ray..’ as barry’s heated gaze raked down your figure. “what did i tell you?” rafe said through gritted teeth, shrugging you off of him.

“you see what i have to deal with all fucking day? she could never keep her hands to herself.” rafe cursed. barry laughed, both of them finding amusement in your needy tendencies. you shrunk in on yourself, feeling your cheeks heat as they continued teasing you, each insult topping the other until you couldn’t take it anymore, your eyes brimming with tears as you got up and ran away to barry’s room in the back. “aww, where are you going?!” rafe called out, rolling his eyes as you shouted back at him. “leave me alone!” you plopped down on the mattress, bringing your knees up to your chest.

barry cleared his throat as their laughter eventually died down, both of them sitting in silence with nothing but your sniffling sounding from the other room. rafe sighed, now feeling a little bit bad for making you cry. “what do you say we give her all the attention we could spare right now?” at this, barry’s head shot up in his direction. “we?” he repeated, his eyebrows pinching together in confusion. with a curt nod, rafe leaned forward. “you’re always saying how bad you wanna know how she tastes like, right?” barry waited for the man in front of him to say he was kidding but it never came.

“let’s go make her feel better.”

the last thing you expected was barry and rafe to walk into the room, both of them circling you as if you were caught prey. within minutes, rafe had you seated between his legs, your back resting against his chest as barry looked up at you from your inner thighs. “look at him, baby, he’s wanted to do this to you for so long..” rafe whispered, hiking your dress up around your hips so barry could get a clear view of your bare cunt. you swallowed nervously, having never been touched by anyone else except rafe. “don’t be scared, sweetheart, i’ll take such good care of you.” barry pressed a soft kiss to your folds before locking your thighs in over his shoulders.

rafe watched his business partner carefully, his cock growing hard at the sight. finally running his tongue up and down your slit, you gasped when you felt barry flick the muscle over your sensitive bud. “shit—” he laughed, his stubble tickling your skin, “you taste so fucking sweet, doll, me and your boyfriend here might have to fight over you.” rafe smiled before cupping your tits through your lacey bra, a small sting of pain making you whine as he roughly groped the flesh. “nah, we won’t have to fight. she can take us both.” you moaned, your hips instinctively moving away from barry’s mouth.

“don’t try to run from this, sheep, i’m gonna have you screaming for more in no time.” you squirmed, hiding your face in rafe’s shirt as barry worked skillful circles around your clit. squeezing your cheeks together, rafe forced you to look down as barry continued making you whimper. you felt yourself wanting to reach down and pull barry’s hair, the pure unadulterated pleasure making you dig your nails into your skin. barry saw you making crescents in your flesh from how hard you were clawing at yourself, his hands coming up to place yours on his head. “you could pull, ‘pretty, you won’t hurt me.”

threading your fingers through his hair, you let out a cry once he slipped his tongue inside your entrance, the tip of his nose nudging against your clit. rafe rolled your nipples between his fingers, his jaw falling slack as you trembled from barry’s ministrations. “i want you to cum and think about us sharing you,” rafe groaned, “..think about us both filling you up.” you breathed in, feeling yourself fall over the edge as rafe praised you for being so good for them. you nearly shrieked when the band in your tummy snapped and barry did nothing to slow down on your poor cunt.

“bear!” you squealed, pulling his head away before overstimulation can set in. looking down at him did nothing but turn you on even more, the sight of the pussy drunk expression on his face making you whine. barry couldn’t get enough, and now that he had a taste of you, there was no going back. rafe shifted his weight behind you, his cock poking your back as you leaned against him in defeat. “why don’t you return the favor, baby? you suck him off while i pound you in for whining when i told you not to.”

thank you nonnie for celebrating with me ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

[softieekayy]

Reid-iculous

Past!spencer Reid x reader x Frank Langdon

Word count: 3.7k

A/n: I just saw that the requester wanted an OBGYN reader and I completely glossed over that and made the reader and Emerg doctor. I will rewrite this if you hate it, I’m so sorry 😭

The morning dew rested gently on the grass, most of the world still sleeping in the early hours of the morning. That, unfortunately, was not the case of the beloved health care or emergency in Pittsburg. The rustling of sheets slowly woke Frank from his slumber and in a still sleepy haze, he threw his arm over his beautiful fiancee, trying to soak in this feeling, the next time he’ll have it is in another 15 hours. Gruelling work it was, the trauma bay in the PTMC but this is what they chose and it’s too late to change. Or well, that's what the woman tracing light patterns on his back would say.

“Frank.” she calls out, voice as sweet as honey and he wonders, how on earth could anyone give up on such a sweet thing like her. “Hm.” he grunts, already knowing what the next words are. Frank lets out a louder groan, turning himslef onto his stomach as she giggles and places a small kiss on his forehead before making her way into the bathroom, humming a tune under her breath. Frank lets out a sigh, sitting up and trying to rub the sleepiness from his eyes as he joins her in the bathroom.

He watches the younger woman for a minute, knowing what her morning routine by heart but still always admiring. “How are you always so cheery in the morning?” the questions leaves his mouth before his brain has the time to process it. His fiancee, in the midst of washing her face, stares at him through the mirror and responds, “drugs.” a dead serious look on her face as the tall, dark haired man snorts. Seeing that, she lets a small smile of her own slip.

“But seriously Frank, we are going to be late if we don’t get in the shower now.” she tells him, tugging the white t-shirt she wore to bed over her head and tying up her hair. Frank admires her for a second too long, the swell of her breasts and the way her curves looked in the lighting of the bathroom. He needed someone to pinch him before he decided that this was just another wonderful dream.

“You gonna keep staring loverboy?” (Y/n) asks, peeking her head out of the shower and frank sheds his clothes in lightning speed before joining her. The hot water feeling amazing on their skin, a last moment of relaxation before they both tense up at work again.

“Fuck-” the sentance cut off as a student running past the couple accidentally bumped into (Y/n), luckily frank caugh her before any major injuries could happen, telling her that he didn’t need his day starting off by bringing her to the hospital for a CT because she hit her head. The shorter woman just glared at frank who grinned like he found a pot of gold. The couple made their way into the hospital, seeing most of the day shift members already present and the night shift just wrapping up final details on cases before letting the day shift take over. Frank and (y/n) walked over to their lockers, already seeing samira there, waiting for her best friend.

“Damn, looks like your wife gets you for the rest of the day” Frank mutters as he takes the bag his fiancee hands him, making her way towards the other woman. “We haven’t even started for the day and you’re already stealing her from me,” Frank whines like a petulant child while both woman snicker. Samira throws her arm over the other woman’s shoulders and pulls her in, “You get her 24 hours a day Langdon, let me have her for these 15,” Samira tells him, making his frown deepen as they make their way over to Dana and Robby at the nurse’s station.

Robby looked at frank once, then again, laughing lightly at his sour expression.

“Jesus, who pissed in your coffee this morning?” He huffed out as the younger man muttered something about stealing time under his breath. Dana, being a woman and smarter than the two men who stood before her, “it’s probably because dr. mohan is hogging dr. (y/l/n), again.” she huffed out, a smile on her face as she watched the two women, thick as thieves and close as sisters. Samira was showing the other woman a patient chart, asking for some advice on what to say to the parent who wouldn’t listen or acknowledge the proper care instructions. (y/n)’s eyebrows pinched together the more she listen to samira talk about the ridiculous parent.

“They come here for our help but won’t take our advice, what are we doing here then” The younger woman rolls her eyes and crosses her arms over her chest, red painted lips curled into a disapproving frown. Samira only shook her head and muttered a small “i know” before leaving the other woman to deal with her patients.

“Morning Dana, Dr. Robby.” she greeted kindly, a smile on her face and a chai tea in one hand. Dana smiled at the young doctor before handing her a patient chart, a teen boy with an open tibia fracture in room 302. The younger woman thanked her before making her way over, her shadow for the day today being Dennis Whitaker. She quite liked the young man, he reminded her of a drowned rat but like a cute one. She had a thing for strays, Frank Langdon would and will heavily attest to that.

Opening the door, she walked in and introduced herself and Dennis.

“Hello Ryan, I’m Dr. (y/l/n) and this is Dr.Whitaker. Do you mind if he observes and helps us today?” She asks kindly, a soft smile on her face and when the boy shakes his head no, (y/n) motions for Dennis to go ahead with the examination and diagnosis, gently helping and guiding him when his tone wavered in unsureness. Ryan was a champ, the more the two doctors talked to him, the more impressive he became. They found out that he obtained the fracture from playing football, it was practice but he still took it seriously. An hour or so later, he was all wrapped up and ready to go home. Thanking both the doctors with a huge grin on his face as his mom beside him gramaced a little.

On the otherside of the ER, Frank Langdon stood still, chart in hand as he looked awestruck by his beautiful wife to be. She has to be the most gorgeous creature frank has ever laid his eyes on. The way her smile lights up a whole room needs to be studied but more so the fact that she’s so warm. Like sunshine personified. Everyone and everything finds itself drawn to her presence, like a moth drawn to a flame. Unbeknownst to him though, the two biggest gossips in the room are watching him diligently.

“He still looks at her like it’s his first time meeting her.” Pearlah says, not moving her eyesight from Frank. Princess, who stood beside her looking at a patient chart hums in response.

“Do you rember the first time they met?” Princess laughs, the memory of a slightly younger verson of Frank playing in their head. He had tried so hard to not catch feelings for the younger resident but failed miserably and everyone around them could see it. He was walking backwards while talking to her, just so he can keep looking at her face and made sure she stuck by him everyday. He was awestruck then and he was awestruck now. Not much had changed.

“Um..Dr.Langdon..?” Mel’s voice brought Frank back from whatever fantasy played in his head at the moment. He looked down at the blonde resident and sighed, aplogising for bring so distracted but the former only smiled and waved her hand, saying that it’s not a big deal. (Y/n) looked up at him from where she sat at her desk, flashing Frank a warm smile before turning her attention back to what Dennis was saying. Frank swore to every god in existence that his heart stopped but before he could say anything to anyone or even may his way over to her, the speakers started blasting.

“Trauma team to the ER. GSW incoming, female, late 20’s.” That’s all the doctors need to hear before they start preparing themselves, gowns and gloves on. Frank and (Y/n) move in sync, clearly and silently stating that they’ll be the ones to take over this case. The ambulance comes quick and on the gurney lays a blonde woman that the young doctor knows too well. Jennifer Jereau. Her best friend at one point when she was dating her co-worker.

“JJ?” the nickname falls out of her mouth before she’s able to stop it. To her, it feels like everything in the world has stopped movin. It also meant that if JJ was here then so was he. She paused for the slightest second but that didn’t go unnoticed by Frank but the years of training took over, “On my count,” she barked out, her voice authoritative and on edge, “One, two, three.” The team transferred JJ to the bed as they began to check her vitals.

“The gunshot is through and through.” She yells out as the team prepares for what’s to be done next. Pearlah administers the IV and morphine as Frank begins to work on his finacee’s former friend. Not that he know’s who she is anyways. Before she could start helping again, the doors bust open and a very worried Dennis stands there, panting as if he’d just run a marathon saying something about a federal agent and urgent care.

“Go.” Frank tells her, not looking up from JJ. (Y/n) stands there for a moment, uncertain but frank reassures her, tells her that he’s got JJ and that she will be okay. The young doctor feels slightly comforted at his words before taking off the gown and gloves, making her way towards the very recognizable team.

“Fuck- I uh, need a minute.” She tells the young student doctor as her lips curl down into a frown and an uneasiness takes over her. She feels like she’s going to be sick. Dennis looks worried and opens his mouth to say something before she shoots him a look and he walks away, mumbling something about bringing back a bottle of water. Nothing in the ED department goes unnoticed by anyone and this time, it was Robby. He watched as she took in deep shaky breaths, clearly trying to ground herself. To anyone else it may have looked like it was a hard case but to him, he knew it was something else that bothered her.

“Hey kid, you okay.” Robby’s soft voice broke (y/n) out from her train of thoughts as she looked up at the senior attending, simply nodding her head, hoping that Robby would take the hint. Spoiler alert, he didn’t. Robby crossed his arms over his chest and gave her a look, she called it the disappointed dad look. Looking up at him she rolled her eyes, knowing that she would have to explain her little breakdown.

“It’s uh, my ex. And his team, they’re here.” She told him, voice wavering a little. Today was a great day. In fact, she had a date later tonight with her hot tub, a bottle of wine but now she has to see her ex. Spencer Fucking Reid. The man who built her up only to cheat on her emotionally and then tear her down. “Fuck, kid-” Robby’s cut off by her shaking her head. The last thing she needs is Robby sending someone else with Whitaker and then this becoming the new hot gossip.

“I’ll be fine,” she tells him before looking around, “Whitaker!” She waves him over and he hands her the patient chart, the duo making their way over to the team. Emily is the first one to spot her, eyebrows furrowed and biting her bottom lip, all actions the brunette was familiar with very well. She nudges Morgan beside her who nearly drops his drink. Yeah they haven’t seen her for 6 years but damn does she look better than ever.

“(Y/n)..how have you been?” Emily was the first one to speak up, wincing a little as she did so and that did’t go unnoticed by both doctors as Whitaker immediately began to ask Emily questions before deducing that she had bruised ribs, a concussion and would need a x-ray and CT scan, just to make sure there isn’t underlying damage. She pretended to not feel the heated glare from a certain tall, lanky brunette piercing the side of her face as she gently held Hotch’s face in her hands, making sure that it wasn’t broken.

“Are you always this silent, doctor?” Spencer’s question cut the air sharply, his voice nearly suffocating her. He spat out the word doctor as if it were a slur and maybe to him, it was. The young doctor eyed him sharply, choosing to bite her tongue and not cause a scene, especially here.

Spencer Reid however, could not keep his mouth shut, even after he got the glaringly angry stare from Aaron Hotchner.

“You know, I always imagined you to be surrounded by the soft glow of a delivery room. This fluorescent nightmare suits you though. Stark, cold, and sterile…just like you.” His words cut deeply into the doctor and she pauses what she’s doing, letting Whitaker take over.

“And you haven’t changed a little. 6 damn years Doctor Reid and you’re still the man I left.” She hisses back, arms crossed against her chest and the fluorescent light catches the stone on her ring finger, Spencer’s eyes darting towards it momentarily as he scoffs.

“I’m surprised you managed to lock anyone down with your attitude.” Spencer hisses and before (Y/n) can say anything else Frank enters the room, sensing the hostile environment his eyes dart between the short doctor and the tall lanky one.

“Is everything okay?” He asks, his voice low and hesitant. To be honest, Frank didn’t give a flying damn about the other people in the room as long as his lovely fiancee was okay.

“Perfectly peachy…” She mutters, handing him the patient chart and making her way to have some cool down time. Robby caught her eye as she left, raising his eyebrow to ask if she’s okay to which she rolled her eyes. Not at him, no, at Spencer. He was a thorn in her side that she couldn’t get rid of, no matter how hard she tried.

The only place she could find dark and quiet enough was the break room. She was surprised no one was in there but grateful nonetheless. (Y/n) closed her eyes, needing to rest them for a minute before she heard the door open and close, hoping that it was someone just here to grab a quick snack. The sound of the chair being pulled out from across made her nervous and she hoped to god that it wasn’t Robby who followed her in.

“So..i heard the little spat you had.” Samira’s voice made the younger woman’s eyes snap open as she looked her best friend. She groaned, letting her head fall back. Samira patted her knee sympathetically. When (y/n) first started off at PTMC, she was matched into the OBGYN program before deciding that it wasn’t for her and switching into Trauma and since that day, her and Samira have been glued to the hip. Sisters in everything but blood or as Frank and the rest of the ER department likes to call them, work wives.

“I just don’t understand why he’d say that here, while I’m working. He doesn’t seem to realize that I’m not the same person I was 6 years ago but he still is.” She sighs, running a hand through her hair in frustration before tying it up again. Samira nods in undertsnding, also curious as to why such a hotshot profiler couldn’t be respectful to his ex at work.

(Y/n) pauses, looking at Samira and raising her eyebrow, “shouldn’t you be with patients?” Samira waves her off, telling her that Victoria was more than capable to be on her own for 15 minutes. The younger doctor nodded as they both sipped on a box of apple juice provided by Samira diligently. They sat together for 5 more minutes before Samira patted her shoulder and kissed her cheek before leaving, telling her to not lose her mindnfully. (Y/n) swatted at her best friend at that while laughing. She threw the empty apple juice box in the trash before leaving, sighing quietly.

“You disappeared for a bit.”

“Jesus fucking christ-” Frank’s laughter cut off her sentance as she swatted him on the shoulder, scolding him about scaring her. Frank stopped, looking at his baby seriously, taking her hand in his, “baby, are you okay?” Frank’s question made her fall silent, the warmth from his hand keeping her grounded. She looked up at him, mouth parted slightly, “Yeah Frankie, I’ll be okay.” She tells him yet her words fail to soothe Frank. He nods his head, kisses her forehead and tells her to kick ass in the ER before leaving to attened to his own duties.

“Hey, there you are.” Dennis exhales in relief. (Y/n) says a quick sorry and promises to make it up to him with some delicious donuts. Dennis smiles and tells her that it’s not a big deal and that the ‘scary law enforcement agents’ are all patched up and okay. She smiled brightly at him before patting his back as a thank you and made her way over to them. Out of everyone she missed Emily and Hotch the most. Emily was her Samira and Hotch her Robby.

“Hey.” Her voice was soft as she greeted Emily and Hotch, Spencer simply rolled his eyes, “Oh look, Princess here is finally over her temper tantrum and wants to be a doctor again.” All eyes snapped onto him the moment the words left his mouth.

“Jesus christ Spencer what’s your deal? It has been 6 damn years since we broke up. LET IT GO. You can’t come into MY workplace, antagonize me and then pray I don’t say anything. Because from what it looks like, you’re the only one that hasn’t moved in more than half a decade. Hot shot profiler and still can’t let go of the past. What’s next, are you going to start claiming that i haunt your nightmares or that I’m a witch who put a spell on you? MOVE ON!” Her snapping wasn’t on anyone’s list today except maybe Frank and Samira’s who passed a $20 bill to him. Robby and Dana just looked at eachother, Dana hiding her face behind an ipad but everyone could still see her shoulders shaking from laughter while Robby ran a hand down his face, trying to conceal his laughter as well. Trinity, Princess and Pearlah gossiped in Tagalog while Victora and Dennis looked like scared Victorian children seeing light.

Spencer could only look at her while scoffing. “Don’t scoff at me Spencer, leave the hospital. You’ve been treated and there’s no reason for you to stay.” She hissed out, not wanting to be disrespected any longer. Spencer looked at her for a second before he shoved his way out. If he wanted to act like a petulant child then he’ll be treated like one. Emily smiled at her and patted her arm, making a promise for them to catch up and left as well, the rest of the team following behind them.

(Y/n) sighed and made her way over to the nurses station where Dana and Robby stood watching her, a smile on Dana’s face. The younger of the three looked at them, exhaustion painting her face as clear as day as they all stared at eachother.

“No.”

“I-I didn’t even say anything.” Dana stuttered out with a smile on her face as she was met with a deadpan stare.

“You don’t have to. I can read your mind.” Dana’s smile didn’t waver and she just pulled the young doctor into a motherly side hug, kissing her forehead. She looked at Robby who looked at her, she gave him her signature ‘dad i swear i didn’t do anything wrong’ smile and he sighed for what felt like a millionth time.

“I am required to send you home, especially after an emotional outburst like that,” Robby paused, looking at her, his voice dropping into a whisper, “but since you’re my favourite resident ( daughter but he’d never admit that), you can stay. Just go take a 30.” At his words she tries not to squeal and gives Robby and overly exaggerated fist bump that he recepriocates awkwardly before heading to the break room.

“That’s quite a scene you caused there.” (Y/n) perked up at her fiance’s voice and teasing tone as he came to join her in the break room, he pulled the chair out beside her and sat down. She smiled at him and Frank took her hand in his own, letting it rest on his knee as he pushed her favourite sandwich towards her.

“I know you baby, and that means I know you haven’t eaten.” Frank tells her, going as far to unwrap the sandwich for her. One thing about Frank Langdon is that he will always take care and baby his fiancee, not because he thinks that she can’t take care of herself, no, because she works so damn hard and what type of man will he be if he doesn’t take care of her.

Unbeknownst to the couple, pair of eyes watched their interaction closely.

“How much do you want to bet she’ll be pregnant a year after marriage.” Pearlah asks Princess who shook her head.

“A year? Are you insane, it’ll be right after they get married.” Princess responded, her voice confident. Pearlah side eyed her for anminute before passing her a $50 bill, starting a whole new betting pool.

Tagging: @madeupinmyhead because I did “steal” this request from you

[salem-s]

FINAL ── PLAYING THE PART UNDER THE SICILIAN SUN (18+) ── RAFE CAMERON

── SYNOPSIS when your image-obsessed mother catches you and Rafe Cameron ─ your friends with benefits ─ in a compromising situation, you must lie and say you're dating. It spirals out of control when your mother invites him to your cousin's upcoming wedding in Italy, and spirals even further when he says yes. ── WARNINGS language, flufffffffff, angst if you squint, smmmmmuuuutt (unprotected...everything so don't take after them please). 18+ mdni. ── WORD COUNT 13k. legit do not say anything. this was originally 4k words but i obviously couldn't let that happen for the last chapter. so. ── NOTES edited from third person perspective to second, so let me know if there are any mistakes. please see the note at the end of the chapter!! ── SERIES MASTERLIST ── SONG OF THE CHAPTER the only exception by paramore

Rafe swears he hears pounding on his door.

He takes an ear bud out, trying to discern if the noise was real or a part of the song he’s currently listening to. After a moment’s silence, he moves to put the bud back in but one, two beats later, the knocks sound again, confirming someone is at his door so late into the night.

Irritation bubbles in his chest.

Rafe’s been at these stupid memorization cards for what feels like hours, getting nowhere close to being ready for his eight a.m. exam. His mind has – obviously – been elsewhere for the betterment of a week, and he'd be lying if he said the attempt in drowning himself in work has properly distracted him from the events of last week.

Spoiler alert: it hasn't, and it's only getting worse.

Especially now, as the handwriting on the paper started giving him a headache hours ago, so he begrudgingly put on his glasses that he refuses to let see the light of day. The specks, unfortunately, do assist in not making the letters blur together, especially when he’s so tired that his gaze falls in and out of focus.

However, he hates them so goddamn much that it only worsens his already sour mood.

But now they aren’t the only annoyance of his night.

The fact that someone is ferociously pounding on his door only augments his headache, his frustration, and his precariously bubbling temper. He glances at the time, nearing two in the morning, angry that someone has the audacity to not only interrupt his studying, but probably everyone’s sleep on his floor, careless to rhyme or reason or simple ethics. 

He wastes no time standing so quick his chair nearly falls over, stomping over, a long list of curses and horrific things to say are on the tip of his tongue, ready to viscerally berate this person until next Tuesday.

Rafe whips the door open. “The fuck is the–”

His words die in his throat when he sees you.

The air is momentarily knocked from his lungs.

Your hair and makeup are done, as if you've just come from somewhere, adorned in one of his favorite tank tops on you and jeans that hug you too tight to be anything holy. You peer up at him with wide eyes at his harsh words, hugging your basically bare frame in a feeble attempt to warm yourself from wherever you just came from.

God, you look beautiful.

He knows he’s supposed to be mad at you and giving you space and all that, but all of that fades in an instant when he notices your arms coated in goosebumps and your teeth slightly chattering.

Something ugly brews in his chest, discomforted by the thought of you bracing the cold all by yourself. Where is your jacket?

“Jesus, you’re freezing,” he grumbles, ushering you into his room without a second thought.

In an attempt to regain his cool, he frowns to keep up with his indifferent demeanor since he's supposed to be cordial and all, even though the mere thought of attempting small talk with you settles a kettlebell in the pit of his stomach. His heart aches looking at you, because you're simply a walking reminder of how he fucked it all up, said the wrong things and came on too strong with poor timing, a reminder of what he could've had if he was a little more patient, more calculated, less stupid in his endeavors.

Because the past week has been absolute torture for him.

He learned very quickly that almost everything around him reminds him of you: books with an aged spine and annotations adorning the wrinkled pages, simple parts of nature that resemble the color of your eyes, strangers hugging, the mere smell of eucalyptus, everything all at once. The day he got back, he went to the liquor store with Elliot in an attempt to distract himself, but it proved fruitless when he found himself wandering idly in the wine aisle, frozen in place when he found the same bottle that you snagged two of after that grueling dinner with your family.

From that point on, Rafe really only stayed in his room unless it was absolutely necessary to leave.

But it seems as though even the confinements of his room don't provide the solace he's been desperately seeking, as the knowledge of how your room shares a wall with his has been plaguing his conscience. There have been countless times where he's debated saying fuck it, knocking on your door, and begging on his knees to have you in his life again, but he knows he can't do that.

He needs to let you come to him, to not bombard you as he has before. That was what scared you off, his forwardness, so he's vowed to keep cool, keep a distance, and keep quiet as much as he can to give you the space you need.

So, he knows he needs to remain stoic, indifferent, guarded.

Reminding himself of this, Rafe hands you a hoodie off the back of his chair. “Did you lose your key again?”

The sound of his voice is so nice to hear, so refreshing, and you nearly sigh as you hug the hoodie close to your body before pulling it over your head, relishing in the way it smells like him, in its warmth as if he was just wearing it moments ago. Pathetically, you nearly sigh at how it feels adorning your body.

“I left my purse at Elliot’s,” you whisper, hugging your body. “Since when have you had glasses?”

Rafe freezes, forgetting he had them on. 

Ignoring his pink cheeks and ignoring your question, he moves on, putting his guard back up.

Quickly.

“What are you doing here?” His tone is harsh, so he reels it in. “Uh, it’s late. I have an exam.”

You frown at the considerable distance he’s put between you, but part of you really can't blame him since you were the one who orchestrated the falling out.

“I won’t…I won’t take too long. I just need to know if…” You trail off.

How on earth are you going to go about this? Especially when his stare is so piercing, as if he's looking right through your body and into your soul, brows pinched in what you assume is irritation at your stammering.

“Know what?” he drawls out.

Your mouth opens and closes like a fish, gaping to try and find the words. You shiver as you recover from the chilly walk, but also at his stare that you can’t quite make out the meaning behind. Is he mad? Irritated? Relieved to see you? You hate how you can’t tell.

But you take a deep breath.

You know how he feels about you, you know all of it, despite this front he’s wearing right now. If Elliot can confirm it, it must be true. 

And as if you needed the extra push, your gaze drifts slightly beyond him, fixated on his desk and noticing the sprawl of papers, his computer open to an online textbook, and notecards that have almost perfect handwriting etched onto them. What gets you, though, are the five almost professional looking photo prints laid out side by side across the top of his desk.

All of you.

You in the distance teetering your balance on a particularly precarious rock in your private cove. You walking up the dirt path to your nonna's cottage with the mountains behind you. You holding a hand up in an attempt to block the lens as your body adorns a hideous dress you only showed him for shits and giggles. You leaning forward to do your mascara in a tiny mirror hanging on the wall, wearing the perfect beaded dress. And, finally, you sitting alone in the garden chair in your nonna's yard, the moonlight hue behind you as you read your book, unknowing to his presence from the kitchen.

Just above his desk, just hovering over the photos, is his ceramic fish hanging on the wall, one of his only pieces of decor in his entire room.

Rafe follows your gaze with confusion, and his posture stiffens when he realizes what you're looking at, what you discovered. Instantly, he frowns as he side steps just enough to block your view of the photos, of the fish. But the damage has already been done, and your breath hitches as you immediately get the confirmation you need to open your heart up.

All of a sudden, you're blurting it out. 

“Elliot told me what you said to him.” The lack of clarification has Rafe raising a brow, to which you add, “About what happened with Yara.”

Rafe’s breath hitches. 

“Is it true?” Your voice is so small that it doesn’t sound like you. 

“Which part?”

“All of it.” You take a cautious step closer, the tequila running through your bloodstream giving you the confidence. 

Rafe doesn’t answer, instead he cocks his head to the side and lets his eyes trail down your body in calculation, gears working overtime in his head as he soaks in your words, the sliver of desperation coating your tone, the way you're playing with the hem of his hoodie, your brows etched in slight worry as you anticipate his response.

Then, it clicks with him, eyes slightly widening at the realization. The reasoning behind your acute coldness towards him wasn’t out of unrequited feelings, but rather the latter.

You cared too much, felt too much. 

The thought gives him whiplash. You must've seen him and Yara in that godforsaken closet and gotten the complete wrong impression on the matter. His heart fucking lurches at your wordless confession, and no wonder you were so apprehensive about his words, about his intentions, and pushed him away at every single opportunity that presented itself because of a stupid miscommunication, because of her stupid actions.

“Is that why you were upset?” He takes it further and steps closer. “At your nonna’s, you said you were upset about something that made you tell your mom about us. You saw us? In the closet?”

Suddenly, he’s standing right in front of you. 

“Is that why?”

You can’t speak, not while he’s practically caging you in, standing so broad and tall in front of you that it renders you speechless. He faintly smells of shampoo, an intoxicating scent, and you can almost see yourself in the reflection of his thinly wired glasses, only shielding his bright blue eyes through shiny glass. His hoodie swallows you whole, and you're grateful for the extra layer that feels like it’s warding off the vulnerability you're reeking of.

All you can manage is a small nod. 

Rafe clenches his jaw, and a part of you fears you've said the wrong thing. 

But then his eyes immediately soften as he brings a hand up to hover over your jaw, almost in muscle memory, as if he's been paining him to not do so, to not touch you.

For fuck's sake, he almost looks relieved.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

You nearly snort at the simplicity. For a number of reasons, really, but the biggest one comes first.

“I was embarrassed. I thought you didn’t mean what you said in the ballroom.”

Your voice is so quiet that you almost think he doesn’t hear it, especially when he gives no reaction for a few seconds.

Then his palm is pressing harder, fully allowing himself to touch you. And, god, you can't help but lean into the embrace with a long sigh through your nose, not breaking eye contact with him as his thumb ghosts over your bottom lip, over the wound that’s practically all healed with little to no remnants of the disaster that occurred in that bathroom all that time ago. 

A flicker of pain etches over his face at the reminder of the cut, of what your own mother did, but then his eyes trail back up to meet yours, now glossing with certainty.

“Nothing happened with Yara,” he reassures firmly. 

You nod, sure of yourself now. “I know.”

“All I could think about was you.”

You can’t breathe. 

Cautiously, Rafe leans down to test the waters, and once you make no move to pull away from his touch, he indulges in his endeavors to brush his lips against your cheek, pressing a chaste kiss there.

“About your pretty smile.” He pulls back to move to your other cheek. “Your pretty laugh.” To your forehead. “About how being with someone else made me sick.”

The air escapes your lungs. 

“I meant what I said.” Rafe pulls back so he can meet your eye, a flicker of worry glossing over his pretty eyes, but nonetheless filled with determination. “Every word.”

You can’t help your second nature and let a sliver of panic let up. 

“I thought you didn’t want to date in college.”

The excuse is meek, you know that, he knows that. It’s a last ditch effort for him to truly understand what he’s getting himself into. 

But he's serious. Not a fraction of uncertainty glosses over his pretty features, or give you any shroud of doubt that he didn't mean what he said on that ballroom floor. With the firmness of his palm against your burning skin, the narrowed yet softness gaze in his blue eyes, and the way his other fingers on his other hand twitch in your direction tell you all that you need to know: that he's fucking missed you as much as you've missed him.

And – normally – that thought would scare you and send you running for the hills with a heartbeat too erratic and a mind too gone, but now it only solidifies you, grounds you, keeps you tethered to the boy standing in front of you. He's handing you a proverbial knife and hoping you don't stab him with it, and you have once before, but now you don't dream of letting it happen again.

“I didn’t,” he confirms cautiously. “Not until you showed me what it could be like.”

If it’s possible, you lean further into his touch, frowning in your overwhelming blossom of emotions. The thought of being wanted by someone settles a foreign feeling in your gut, wavering between pride and uncertainty. 

“I want you, too,” you whisper, nearly sighing at how he visibly relaxes at your words, but your voice remains shy. “But I’m scared.”

Rafe pinches his brows in the slightest at your tone. “Of what, baby?”

The words die in your throat.

The list is endless, really, piling with a million excuses that only grow by the second. Where can you begin? How the idea of someone wanting more than just your body is evidently unheard of? How the concept of more implies putting up with the ugly parts of life, the parts you push deep down and never let see the light of day?

Your hands find his unoccupied one, holding onto your lifeline as if it'll fucking kill you if you let go. 

“I don’t know how to be more than just…a body.”

That makes him frown. Immediately. 

Despite it, you continue.

"All my life, I've just been..." You try and find the right words, avoiding his eyes and looking down at your connected hands instead at the weight of your upcoming words. "I've never been wanted, or yearned for, or anyone's first choice. It's really hard for me to believe that someone...that you...would want me..."

Rafe reels.

Have you really thought this entire time that he’s only here for the sex? That that’s all you're good for? All you're worthy of being loved for? 

How can you not see how much more you are? How much you mean to him? Don't you know that you occupy his mind at every waking moment? That you're the first thing he thinks of when he wakes up in the morning to the last thing he sees at night, and how he shuts his eyes when he’s alone and pretends you're right there beside him, holding his hand or scratching his back or playing with his hair.

Don't you know how much he loves you?

“Sweet girl,” Rafe murmurs gently before leaning forward, wrapping you in a bone crushing hug that makes you oof against his chest, getting pulled taut against him. “How can you say that? How can you even think–? When I can’t even–” He grips you tighter. “Fuck.”

Your confusion is through the roof at his desperation. “Rafe, are you–”

“Do you even know how much you mean to me?”

That silences you. 

“I’ve never felt like this about anyone,” he says in a wrangled breath. “Ever. I don’t know how to trust people. I don’t like to and I don’t know how. But with you, it’s never felt easier.”

A large hand comes to cradle the back of your head, and your heart lurches when you can feel a slight tremble. 

Especially when he murmurs your name so quietly, so ardently, that you can't help but just listen.

“You’re so much more than a body.” Rafe’s voice is quiet yet firm and it makes you fumble at the sincerity. “You’re smart. You remember things better than anyone I’ve ever met. You wouldn’t admit it, but you’re actually sweet. You take care of things and people you deeply appreciate. I’ve never seen someone so delicately handle a ceramic fish before.”

You shakily chuckle against his chest. 

“And the thought of not being around you anymore really scared me. And even if you...didn't feel the same," he says low, "I wouldn't have minded, as long as I could be in the same room or exist in the same friend group, it wouldn't...matter. As long as I could still see you.” 

Rafe finally relents on his grip, pulling back a fraction and taking his hand to gently grip your chin, forcing you to look up at him and face the ferocity of his words, as if they didn't just fucking crush you in a way you've never felt before. 

“I liked being with you.” His stare is piercing. “Existing together. Doing all of it.”

You hum. On instinct, you reach up to brush some hair out of his eyes.

Rafe’s heart pounds. “Tell me,” he says, voice dripping in desperation. “Tell me it was real to you.”

You nod instantly. “It was real. All of it.”

He sucks in a breath at the verity, and goes to say something else but you don't let him, instead pulling him down to kiss him. 

And, god, it’s exhilarating. 

All of your fears, all of your doubts, all of your uncertainties that plagues yours and his heart, mind, soul all fly out of the window. You can finally lean into one another without the steel weights cursing your shoulders or the cage locking in your hearts. The kiss is a wordless promise, an oath, a safety net. 

His hands are everywhere instantly: arms, waist, face. Not an inch goes unnoticed as he finally, finally can touch you again, feel you again, hear you again. Your hands trail up to the nape of his neck, holding yourself here in his arms as if to remind yourself this is real and happening. He’s here, right here, and he’s not going anywhere, nor is he letting you go anywhere. 

As much as it scares you, the tension in your shoulders slowly release. 

You slowly back him up until his knees hit his desk chair, Rafe taking the hint and sitting down and wasting no time to pull you into his lap. It's muscle memory at this point, molding yourself onto his body. You both sigh at the sensation of the familiarity.

Straddling him, you place your hands on his shoulders, smoothing out the wrinkles in his t-shirt as his hands trail up and down your side, settling under your – his – hoodie and skimpy tank top to feel the ridges of your ribcage, a connection he's been yearning to make ever since his hands left your body last. His palms are hot against your icy skin, sending a plethora of goosebumps up your spine.

Rafe simply stares at you, watching you admire the planes and grooves of his shoulder muscles, his biceps, anything you can get your hands on to make up for lost time spent pining in silence.

When you finally meet his eye, you shyly smile when you notice him already shamelessly looking right back at you. 

One of your hands cradles his jaw, fingers gently skimming over the lenses of his glasses. “I like these.”

Rafe groans, rolling his eyes and darting his gaze away. “I hate them.” 

“Why?” You nudge his cheek to force him to look at you. “I think they make you look handsome.”

“They make me look stupid.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes. “There’s no need to be embarrassed about it. They're glasses."

"Still stupid."

"You should wear them more often,” you demand lightly.

Rafe frowns. “No.”

“Well, don’t they help you see?”

“Obviously, but–”

You smile, and he’s having trouble focusing. “Then case closed.”

His lips twitch. “Sweet girl,” Rafe warns.

There’s no backbone to it. 

“Don’t sweet girl me,” you warn right back at him. Then, quieter, “Why didn’t you bring them?”

Instead he cocks his head to the side with a teasing smile.

“Are you really that interested in my optical choices or is this your sweet little way of getting in my pants?”

You snort. “We both know I don’t have to be sweet to get into your pants.”

Rafe laughs boyishly and you love the sound. But he’s still avoiding your question. 

“Answer.”

“Bossy.”

“Rafe.”

“Okay,” he huffs playfully, “I didn't really have to bring them. I only need them when I’m reading or writing a lot. My eyes get tired.”

You pout endearingly. “That’s, like, the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard–”

“Fuck off.”

“No.” You lean forward and press a slow chaste kiss on his lips. 

Of course, he can’t even fathom pulling away and mmrphs low into your mouth, leaning up to chase your lips again for another kiss when you lean back. You hum at his neediness, but giving in anyway and slightly parting your lips to give him all the access he wants.

Rafe wastes no time in doing so, a hand coming up to cradle the side of your neck to guide your movements as he lazily makes out with you as if he has all the time in the world to do so. The warmth of his mouth, his body, his palm nearly make you melt in your very spot, a wave of relief washing over you.

You decide that you love this spot right here on his lap. Your favorite seat. Your throne. 

When you happily hum again, Rafe kisses you harder, squeezes a little harder. 

“God,” he mumbles against your lips, “I can’t believe you’re mine.”

The possessiveness makes your stomach pool with pride. All his. All yours. No one else's but each other's.

You can’t help but tease him. “I don’t remember you asking me officially.”

“You’re still mine.”

And Rafe kisses you again. Harder. A mark of his words. 

“Say it,” he demands quietly against your lips. 

And you just fucking beam. “I’m yours.” Your fingers splay through his hair. “All yours, Rafey.”

Scoffing, he turns his head away as you chuckle at his reddening cheeks, peppering kisses on his cheek, jaw, lips, anywhere available for you to coat in markings of you, you, you.

“Stop calling me that,” Rafe murmurs, but loses all the edge in his tone because the feeling of you pressing your lips all over him sends his mind for a loop.

You simply hum. “No. You have so many names for me.”

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, but you like those.” 

“Who says I do?”

“Be so fucking for real.”

The laugh that escapes your mouth is loud and boisterous, probably waking up someone on your floor. But Rafe can care less because the sound is music to his ears, despite you jesting at his expense. Shit, you can make fun of him all you want if this is how you're gonna react, smiling and sitting pretty in his lap whilst drowning in his clothes, kissing him like he hung the stars himself. 

You playfully slap his shoulder. “Whatever. But I’m still going to call you–”

“No.”

“Yes. When you’re least expecting it.”

Rafe hums low, a warning.

Shrugging, you suppress a smile. “What? I gotta keep you on your toes somehow.”

“Shut up.” Then, softer. “C’mere.”

You laugh incredulously. “I’m already here.”

You nearly have the gall to laugh again when he ever-so-slightly pouts, but it all dies in your throat when he’s tugging you impossibly closer, resting your face in the crook of his neck as his hands splay wide and broad on your back. It takes you one, two seconds to register his actions, and you find yourself melting at the notion of Rafe Cameron hugging you.

It feels so achingly familiar that you can’t help but sigh in contentment, letting your eyes shut for a few moments as you feel his chest heave in and out with his low syncopated breaths. 

Your heart lurches at the action, pressing yourself impossibly tight against him in fear he's going to disappear if you inch back even in the slightest. He takes a particularly deep breath, one of relief almost, your chests brushing together even closer than before. It makes you hum, pressing another kiss to the soft skin on his neck.

You speak before you register it. "Thank you."

His hands gently rub up and down your back. "For what, baby?"

"For..." You swallow the lump in your throat. "For not running."

Your words make him frown, and he eases you back so he can look you in the eye, confusion glosses over his features as one of his hands reaches up to cradle your face, forcing you to look at him when you turn your head away in embarrassment.

"I'm not going anywhere," he says firmly. "Gonna take a cavalry to get rid of me."

A smile twitches at the end of your lips.

His gaze flickers down to your mouth, letting it linger there for a moment before moving back up to meet your eyes, but before he can do anything else, you're already leaning in and severing the distance.

Rafe's large hand holds you in place, reciprocating your kiss with more fervor than before that makes his breath hitch. Your hips barely – just barely – move in tandem with his that has his hand gripping your waist, stopping your moments immediately.

You lean back at his sudden apprehension, almost shy. "What?"

"Don't- Don't do that," he answers meekly.

Of course, you've never been one to listen.

You roll your hips again.

His other hand leaves your face to grab your waist, both of his palms and all of his fingers digging deep into your flesh to cease your movements. His face is uncharacteristically scrunched in pain at the reluctancy of initiating what he's been dreaming about since the last time you had him.

You notice immediately. "What's wrong?"

Rafe's eyes dart between yours, sucking in a breath as he looks at you. "I don't want to hurt you again."

The words confuse you. Tilting your head to the side, you try and rack your brain on where this sudden approach is coming from, where the sudden apprehension stems from. The expression on his face tells you that he's holding back, he's pained, haunted by something you can't conjecture.

"You haven't hurt me," you tell him earnestly, a little confused, but one-hundred percent honest.

He furrows his brows. "...The day of the wedding?"

What?

You only look at him in befuddlement, mind trailing off when you replay the course of events of the day in your head. The only thing that would pertain to his words was when he fucked you deep and rough that morning because you asked him to. It had felt good. Too good. It was when you realized you were in too deep and it scared the shit out of you.

"Rafe," you say slowly, "what are you talking about?"

He looks pained even repeating it. "You cried. After we..." He shakes the thought away. "There were teardrops on your pillow."

The confession makes your heart skip.

That's why he was so weird with you for the entire day? Why he kept himself at an arm's length and could barely look you in the eye when you lounged together on the beach? Because he thought he'd hurt you? Made you cry? When you were upset for the complete opposite reason?

You frown at his anecdote, hurt that he's had to carry this miscommunicated guilt with him for a week, unknowing to the real reason, and under the complete wrong impression of your feelings.

Before you know it, your hands are reaching up to cradle each side of his face tenderly.

"That wasn't because of you," you whisper ardently, almost pained that he's been thinking that the whole time. "Not at all."

But Rafe doesn't seem to believe that. "I was too hard."

"No," you say immediately, shaking your head to emphasize your point. "No, you were too gentle."

That makes him furrow his brows.

At his silence, you continue with a deep breath.

"I thought that if I asked for it rough, it would let me get over my feelings for you, to remind me that it had to just be sex." Your voice is impossibly quiet yet firm. "But you didn't treat me like another fuck, you made sure I had what I needed, said all of these beautiful things, treated me impossibly gentle afterward."

The pad of your thumb brushes over his cheekbone.

"I cried because I was scared," you admit gently. "Not of you. Never of you. But of my feelings. You didn't make it easy for me to try and stop liking you."

A smile twitches at the end of his lips.

"So," he says quietly after a moment, "I didn't hurt you?"

You shake your head earnestly to confirm. "No. I'm sorry that I let you believe that you did."

His eyes blink, soaking in the weight of your words with a slow nod, the gears in his head turning as he gradually lets himself understand that it wasn't his hands that orchestrated your tears. He didn't hurt you. You are fine.

"You're okay," Rafe drawls out cautiously. "Right?"

Your nod is immediate. "Yes. Always with you."

That seems to make the tension in his shoulders release bit by bit, relaxing under your touch and allowing himself to believe you, believe that it wasn't what he thought it was, believe that he didn't hurt you.

"Okay?" You ask gently, confirming that he understands what you're saying.

Now he does, nodding against your touch and letting his hands experimentally skim your waist, easing up on his grip, and letting them venture over the smoothness of your skin. He waits a beat for you to pull back, to tell him to stop, but you don't.

Instead, you press yourself down onto him, making his breath catch.

It's out of clarity, certainty, especially when you lean forward and press a chaste kiss on his lips, a confirmation of your truth. He leans up to chase your mouth, and he's successful when you close the distance, allowing his tongue access to your mouth as teeth clashes against teeth, a wave of passion emerging like a tidal wave at the notion that he didn't hurt you. He didn't hurt you. He didn't hurt you.

"Fuck," Rafe mutters against your lips when you roll your hips once more. "You're going to fucking kill me. I swear."

Experimentally, he grips your waist and moves you back and forth against his already hardening dick, and when you don't pull back or voice your discomfort, he allows himself a deep exhale, allows himself to soak into the moment, allows himself to enjoy the feel of you, you, you.

"I missed you," you nearly whisper before you can stop it, the vulnerability feeling foreign on your tongue. "Missed this."

Rafe groans against your lips. "Me too, baby." He kisses you again as you moan quietly into his mouth as he continues guiding your movements against him. "Let me show you, mhm?"

Anticipation pools in your stomach, blossoming in your gut and sending warmth down to where your body touches his.

You're barely nodding before his hands venture down to your ass, holding you taut against him as he stands, your grip tightening around his neck like a koala and wrapping your legs around his middle. In seconds, your back hits the mattress, his knee is slotting between your thighs, and his lips are on yours again.

It's so familiar, so achingly familiar that you cannot believe you went so long without it, without him.

You arch into his chest, bodies molding together as puzzle pieces connect. A hand flies to his hair, tugging the strands gently that makes him omit a low groan into your mouth, one hand shamelessly groping one of your breasts under his hoodie and the other bracing himself over your body, barely hovering.

Rafe pulls back just slightly, a flicker of irritation coating his pretty face as he leans up to take his glasses off, ones that have slid down the bridge of his nose just enough to annoy him.

But you react before you realize it.

"Wait," you say, leaning up a tad for emphasis, a hand coming up to cradle his face and gingerly skim the metal as he freezes. "Keep them on."

A teasing smile twitches at his lips. "Seriously?"

You sheepishly nod, biting your lip.

Rafe stares at you for a moment, amused gaze darting between your eyes at the request.

"Please?" You add sweetly.

The scoff that leaves his mouth makes you suppress a grin, knowing how that one word makes him feel and using it to your advantage. He shakes his head in disbelief at you, but his faux irritation proves to be fruitless as a smirk can't help but grow on his lips.

"Can't say no to that, hm, sweet girl?" He murmurs, half in playfulness and the other half in adoration.

You shake your head slowly at him, your grin fading into something shy, as if asking for what you want proved to be difficult.

But he wouldn't dream of denying you that. Ever. Especially when you asked so nicely, so sweetly, just for him. Who is he to say no? Hell, you could've asked him for a car in that same tone and he wouldn't hesitate to ask what color, make, and model.

So Rafe indulges your request, pushing the glasses up further on the bridge of his nose and leaning down to connect your lips for the umpteenth time, nearly grinning when you let out a satisfied mmrph at him letting you get what you want. His hands are everywhere they can reach, groping and mapping out the curves of your body and nearly moaning at the softness of your skin.

"Can't believe you're mine," he murmurs against your lips, sending a shockwave down your spine as his thumb brushes over your nipple. "All mine."

"Yours," you whisper sultry, needy, desperately, nearly bucking up into him.

Rafe's eyes roll back at the sound of it, pushing the hem of your – his – hoodie to reveal your chest, and you sit up to aide him in taking it off. The act is deliberately thorough, as his calloused palms smooth over your skin, gingerly pushing it up over your head. Your tank top is next. Then, your bra. Then your jeans. Before you know it, you're almost completely nude, simply left in your light blue underwear and exposed in the cool air of his room.

All he can do is stare at your bareness, letting out an appreciative hum as one hand grabs a breast, his cool ring ghosting over your nipple that causes you to sigh deeply, eyes raking from your stomach, to your chest, and eventually back up to your face, where you peer up at him in anticipation. His hand gropes you meaningfully, as if he's studying the feel of the swell in his palm, relishing in your warmth.

"You're so beautiful," Rafe admires gently, almost to himself, before leaning down and taking the other breast in his mouth.

The words make your heart skip a beat, but you shove down the feeling as you arch into his mouth that licks and bites and sucks against the soft skin, a hand in his hair to keep yourself grounded, keep yourself tethered to him. No inch of your chest goes unnoticed, untouched, ignored.

Rafe is thorough in his appreciation, and as lovely as it is, you're growing impatient with need as you writhe underneath him.

"Want you," you whine under your breath, not like he can hear you anyway as it comes out as an incoherent babble, but figuring it's better than saying his name over and over like a mantra, but it proves fruitless when he albeit hums. "Rafe?"

"Yes, baby?" He asks lazily in between kisses as if he has all the time in the world.

"I want... I..."

He etches lower and lower on your body until his mouth is ghosting over your clothed cunt, a low hum emitted from his mouth as he presses a kiss against the wet patch on your underwear, greedily inhaling and exhaling hot breath that makes you squirm. By the looks of it, he's pleased at the sight of you eager for him, ready for him, squirming for him.

Instead of responding, he licks and sucks against the cotton of your panties, against the spot he knows makes you crumble all the same. You moan raggedly, almost embarrassed at the volume given the fact that you've just started, given that he's doing this over your clothes.

"Words," Rafe mumbles teasingly, the baritone of his voice vibrating your core with such fervor that it makes your back arch and your fingers grip a little harder in his hair. "What d'ya want, hm?"

"You," you manage to say, breathless and writhing. "Need you."

His nimble fingers hook under the waistband of your panties, sliding them down achingly slow until they're fully off, discarded somewhere carelessly as he resumes his position between your legs, taking in the sight of you: so pretty looking down at him, cunt glistening with need, face flush with anticipation.

One of your legs hooks over his shoulder as his mouth ghosts over your core.

"You have me," is all he says before closing the distance.

You moan at the contact, as his tongue plunges deep where you need him and his nose brushes against your clit. The taste of you has him groaning into your heat, the rumble causing your eyes to roll back at the sensation. The sound is obscene, especially when he eats like a starved man, like he's been depraved of his favorite meal, like he's ravenous.

"Taste so good, princess," he practically moans into your heat.

It's almost unbearable. You've been so worked up this past week at the thought of him, the thought of never being able to make things right, the thought of losing something you can't help but love. The wave of relief that washes over you only augments your pleasure, because your worries dissipate and you allow yourself to enjoy this, enjoy him, enjoy what he can give you.

One of his hands venture up your body to grab a breast, as if he can't allow his hands to be unoccupied, to not feel and dote on you with every fiber of his being. The added pleasure makes your eyes roll back involuntarily.

"Oh my god, Rafe," you whisper so quietly that it's barely audible.

Your other hand covers his, gripping the back of his hand and squeezing tight to wordlessly reciprocate your want, your need, your appreciation.

His other hand comes to aide his mouth, maneuvering his body so he can both use his fingers as they glide in with ease, and his tongue that can't bear to separate just yet. It makes you whine so beautifully that his hips stutter forward against the mattress, groaning low into your cunt at the sudden sensation.

As Rafe sucks and laps and fingers you so brazenly, you let out a ragged breath at the plethora of pleasantries, suddenly hit with how nice everything feels, how the combination of his mouth, plunging fingers, and the hand fondling your breast start the familiar coil bubbling in your core.

"Fuck," you curse at the intensity, and how quickly it builds. "Please, I-I-"

Your hips writhe under his touch as you let out a particularly broken whine, chest heaving as you get closer and closer to your release.

"I know, baby," he murmurs low, almost strained.

Gasping, you momentarily lose breath at the speed of it, gripping his hand that's on your breast tighter, affirming how quickly you're approaching your high with your body language, one that he seems to understand quite well, something he's come to know better than a lot of other things in life. He's well versed in your tendencies, a pride he wears with his chest.

"Rafe," you whine as your orgasm comes closer, and closer, and closer. "I'm-"

You don't finish the sentence, and you don't even hear if he responds, because your orgasm hits you so quickly, so blindly, that your back arches off the mattress, a tidal wave of ecstasy flooding your veins and searing hot in your core. Your heartbeat is up to your ears, and he could be saying the secrets to the universe and you'd simply have no idea. It's pulsating, inebriating, because you don't hide behind a curtain of shame of how much you need him, not anymore, and that makes the release tenfold.

Despite your writhing hips, Rafe is able to lap up every drop, groaning deep into your cunt at the taste of you, of how nice you feel against his fingers, against his tongue, how pretty you sound as you let him hear you louder than ever.

Lazily, he licks and sucks you through the aftershock, nearly grinning at how your thighs tremble against his head and your ragged breaths ease from the intensity. Your thumb rubs absentminded circles on his hand, a gesture so fucking sweet that he reciprocates by placing a chaste kiss against your cunt, eyeing it for a moment as a brief goodbye before he sighs a hot breath against it.

"You did so well, sweet girl," he praises, trailing kisses up your body while turning his palm in your hand to gingerly lace his fingers through yours, squeezing once, twice, three times until his mouth is against your neck, sucking that sweet spot that makes you shiver.

You practically shake underneath him, still attempting to return to planet earth.

Rafe's nose nudges your jaw. "You okay?"

You exhale a noise that you think is affirmation, but frankly you're still trying to screw your head on straight after hearing your heartbeat in your ears, shuddering under his grounding touch that sends electricity through your already amplified veins.

"Yes," you start breathlessly, "I-I've just been– my brain– I couldn't... I need to..."

Rafe's face is suddenly inches from yours, practically beaming down at your incoherent babbling with a knowing glance, one that affirms just how nice he fucks you (your words, not his, as you've so graciously told him once). It's proving true now, as he takes in the sight of your gazed expression and bleary eyes, chest swelling with pride.

Watching you attempt to figure out your words all breathless and pouty, he can't help but let his gloating simmer into something more affectionate, something softer that he seems to only reserve for you. It's fascinating to see you like this, completely unguarded and fucked out and beautiful, nonetheless.

"Couldn't what?" He eggs on, heart blooming at the state of you.

"It doesn't matter," you mutter absentmindedly as you slip your hand out of his to paw at his chest, still recovering from the dizziness of your brain, movements sluggish as you reach down for the tent in his sweatpants while your eyesight slowly returns to normal. "C'mere, I–"

"Easy," he drawls out amusingly, taking the trembling hand that reaches for his dick and lacing his fingers through yours instead. "You're shaking."

You blink through your frustration, your vision returning (almost). "I'm not– I– You're being withholding."

His grin is impossibly wide. "I'm sorry, sweet girl." He doesn't sound apologetic in the slightest. "I'll give you another, just catch your breath, yeah?"

Your struggle is obvious, and your desperation even more, because you've missed him so fucking bad and all you want to do is feel him irrevocably, completely, ardently. The realization is pathetic, you know, but you figure that you're past the point of being shy, especially with him, who has seen you at your all.

You frown, spluttering, utterly flustered at his nonchalance, especially when his unoccupied hand comes up to cradle the side of your face, running the pad of his thumb on the corner of your mouth. "Wh– No, I don't want another, I want–"

"You don't want another?"

Groaning, you flush under his piercing stare. "No, I– Ugh, Rafe. I want you."

"Me?" Rafe repeats in faux surprise, brows raised playfully. "Could've just asked."

You roll your eyes so hard it only makes you a little more dizzy, trying really hard to appear angry but it goes nowhere when a hint of a smile ghosts your lips. And it only grows when he leans in, placing a long, chaste kiss on you, and you melt into it when you taste yourself, lungs wound tight. You figure you can breathe later.

He notices immediately, pulling back with a boyish chuckle that makes your chest feel funny. "Sorry. Couldn't help it."

"Do it again," you mumble shyly, eyelids heavy with desire. "Please."

And he does. Immediately.

You albeit whine into his mouth as he reciprocates the noise at the sound of it, squeezing your hand once more and the gesture nearly kills you as you practically pout into his mouth at the sweetness of it. With your mind airy and lungs breathless, all you can think about is Rafe, Rafe, Rafe, how he kisses you, how he touches you, how his voice sounds reverberated against your body.

It's incriminatingly intoxicating to be surrounded by him in all of your senses: his hand laced in your own, his breathy whimpers against your lips when your hand trails to the hem of his shirt to brush against his bare abdomen, teasing the waistline of his sweats. You're caught in a whirlwind of him, drowning in his scent and caged in by his arms.

You realize quickly, as you've noted before, that Rafe Cameron should come with a warning.

He pulls back, and you're about to protest until you see he's moving to take his shirt off in one swift motion, sick of the cotton barrier between your chests. As he begins to take his sweats and boxers off, you sit up, idly waiting for him as you tuck your legs underneath you. The sight of his cock hard and aching, dripping pre-cum off the tip, has you shamelessly staring, as you let out a small breath you didn't realize you were holding.

Rafe notices your change in position, patiently waiting all pretty and breathless and brazenly looking at his dick, and he can't help but tilt his head and stare at you with an amused gleam in his eye.

When he makes no effort to move, your eyes travel back up to meet his to see that they're already staring at you, a piercing gaze that has you biting your lip at the notion of being caught.

"What?" He asks teasingly, searching your face for any indicator of what you want.

But you're apparently good with your words now, or at least better than before.

"Wanna ride you."

The sentence makes Rafe scoffs in disbelief, shaking his head at you as he runs a hand through his hair, practically in awe of you, of your words, of how good you're being for him tonight, how you're starting to ask for things. It makes his chest swell with pride, proud that you feel comfortable enough around him to start voicing your needs, your wants, things that he'll give to you in less than a heartbeat.

Nonetheless, once he's learned how to use his brain again, he leans forward, turning his body so he's sitting up against the headboard and extending an arm for you almost immediately.

Which you graciously take, gripping his forearm as you crawl onto his lap, sucking in a breath when his dick is the only thing in between your two stomachs. You can't help but stare down at it, bringing a hand to grip his length like you've been dreaming about for days, letting out a deep sigh that makes your hot breath fan over his tip.

Rafe lets out a low moan, gripping your hips impossibly tight as he watches you spread the pre-cum off his tip with your thumb, spreading it down his length and jerking him off at a painfully slow pace that nearly has his hips bucking at the sensation of it. The sight of your hand wrapped around him nearly makes his brain shut off, dumbifying him to the point where all he can do is pathetically whine as you hold his dignity in the palm of your hand.

A particular tight squeeze makes him tense underneath you, eyes screwing shut for a moment to compose himself as one of his hands leaves your hips to wrap around your wrist, stopping your movements altogether.

Your head whips up, pouting. "What?"

Rafe just shakes his head, almost pained as he can't even get the words out.

But you understand him, and you pout. "But I want to."

"Sweet girl."

You hum, looking back down as you feel his hand push your wrist down, down, down until, with some adjusting, his cock is sliding in between your folds.

The sensation makes you both moan shamelessly, your lashes fluttering as your eyes roll shut. Your stomach pools in warmth for the anticipation, especially when your hips rock back and forth against him to coat his cock with the remnants of your previous orgasm, mixing it with the pre-cum that you graciously spread on him. The feeling, almost on command, makes him practically shudder underneath you.

Rafe whines out a curse, and if you weren't so light-headed you'd think he's begging. "Feel so nice already, making me go crazy."

Frankly, the stubborn part of you wants to elongate this as much as possible, but as you feel your prior orgasm practically dripping onto his length, it's clear that you're in no position to withhold him from experiencing the same euphoria. All you want to do is give back what he did for you, how he made you feel, to wordlessly tell him how much you appreciate him, yearn for him, want him to be taken care of.

With shaky hands, you guide his cock to your entrance, not wasting another second before you're slowly sinking down onto his length.

"Shit," he murmurs shakily against your lips, his grip iron tight on your hips – borderline, your ass – as he feels you lower inch by inch. "Oh my fucking god, holy fuck. Taking me so goddamn well."

It isn't until you feel him fully bottom out when you're letting out a ragged breath, one that you were unaware you were holding at the intensity of the feeling, of the stretch, of how much more you can feel him in this position, his cock hitting places unknown as you still on his lap, soaking in the moment of simply being full of him, relishing in the notion of how nice it is to be in your favorite spot.

Your arms sling around his neck, draped over his shoulders to impossibly taut yourself to his chest as you place a chaste kiss on his lips, one that he can't even reciprocate because he's still sharply breathing, still not over how well you're taking him and how perfect you feel around him. It's, understandably, making his brain all fuzzy, and all he can try and concentrate on is not coming in this given moment.

So, no, he doesn't kiss you back. He can't.

Instead, he shakily exhales against your lips, gently shaking his head when you cheshire-cat grin at him, attempting to roll your hips in retaliation but his grip on your hips is iron. Part of you relishes in the marks you're going to wake up to, imprinted by him, and greedily want to and move again to get him to dig deeper, to be able to feel the reminders of him in the morning.

You try. He holds you still even harder.

"Just- Fuck," Rafe groans. "Gimme a minute, wanna feel you."

You pout, ignoring the way your heart thumps at the simplicity of his words, yet find yourself obeying. Leaning back a fraction, you take a moment to take a selfish peek at him: blue eyes blown black with lust, hair falling onto his forehead in messy waves that you brush back gingerly, his glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose that you fix silently, lips parted and swollen from all the activity he's been engaging in with them.

He looks unequivocally fucked out. You assume you look equally as such.

Without thinking, your arms retract from their position around his neck, slithering up the sides of his neck and letting your hands cradle each side of his jaw, holding his face in place as your thumbs absentmindedly trace circles, squares, triangles on the soft skin. You simply stare at him, admire him, wait for him to give you the green light to continue moving.

And Rafe doesn't think he's ever been held like this before.

It does something irreversible in his chest, a pang of an unknown emotion jolting through his skin like electricity as he simply sits under your touch, teetering between wanting to explode with admiration and shutting down altogether to sulk in the feeling. He's sure you have no idea what you're doing to him, and whether you mean to or not, he's sure there's nothing better on the planet than this, than the feel of you wrapped around him, holding him, grounding him.

His hands move up and down your spine, tracing vertebrae bone by bone in a delicacy he never knew he possessed. As his heart pounds in his chest, his mind morphs to mush, and the only thing he can conjecture is that he is, irrevocably, yours for the rest of his life. There's frankly no doubt about it, and the thought makes his lashes flutter shut to truly soak in the physicality of it all.

He feels you place a feather-light kiss on his lips, and before you can pull back to continue to give him the moment to gather himself, he's chasing the kiss and closing the distance again.

This time, Rafe's the one moaning into your mouth, especially as you accidentally shift your hips when kissing him back. At the slight movement, his impatience is suddenly through the roof as his hands venture down to your ass, slowly starting to guide your motions up and down, back and forth, taking him in ways that has his eyes rolling back.

Your thighs aide his movements for about a minute, but soon begin to tremble as your bounces get needier, kisses become breathless, sighs turn into whimpers. Calloused palms roam the entirety of your body, groping and rolling the flesh of your ass in tandem with your movements, slithering up your ribcage to squeeze and suck on your bouncing tits, down to where your bodies connect to press a firm thumb on your clit.

That right there makes you whine so gutturally deep where his hips unexpectedly jerk into you, his cock – somehow – burying deeper inside you to a spot unreached before.

Rafe moans your name like a mantra, like it's the only word he knows.

It makes your brain fuzzy, as your neediness takes over and your conscience is on autopilot. You say something, but it comes out like an incoherent babble, something insignificant and probably pertaining to how good he feels, as you continue to shift your hips up and down to take his full length, lift up to where his tip barely pokes out, only to sink back down onto him again. Over, and over, and over.

Your arms sling back over his shoulders, lazily linking behind his neck as one of his hands snakes around your back to pull you impossibly closer while the other works your clit, thumb pressing on it so firmly that you momentarily see stars at the ferocity of it all. Nails scratching the smooth skin of his back, you almost break skin at the attempt to pull him closer, as the need for more, more, more stems from the coil beginning to rumble in your stomach.

"Rafe," you gasp, sucking in a breath as you feel the familiar sensation bubbling. "Feel so full, feels so good."

"You feel like a dream," he mumbles shakily against your lips, hips jerking up into you as you recognize that he must be close. "Never gonna– fuck. Can't believe you were– and I was– oh my god, oh m– You feel so fucking nice– I'm gonna–"

Your chest is light, core on fire. "Something's– I feel– I–"

For a second, your eyes roll back as a searing hot sensation floods your lower half, and you momentarily only see white as you feel your body practically give out and lean forward onto his, gasping into the crevice of his neck as his hips slam into you from underneath. Your nails sink into the skin of his shoulder blades as firmly as you can muster with your little-to-no strength in a feeble attempt to ground yourself. Your whines are loud and straight pornographic at the branding fire feeling in your cunt.

Did you just come?

Given the heat overwhelming your core and the bundle of nerves shooting electricity through your veins, you think you just did. With your heartbeat in your ears, the sound of Rafe's shameless moans feel like they're underwater as you're practically putty in his grasp, both of his arms bear-wrapped around you as he thruuuuusts up into you with such intensity, such fervor, that you think he just came, too.

Spots blur your vision as you moan into the hot skin of his neck as he fucks you through your orgasm, only now feeling the hot spurts of his cum gushing into you with every upwards thrust of his, and you can't deny how fucking good it feels to be full of him – to be really full of him – as the sensation is burning hot and tempestuous and everything you've needed.

Your chest heaves at the intensity, clawing at his upper back for some sort of leverage that you're not sure will do anything to aide your limp body. His hips grind up into your core, and once you gain some sort of semblance back from practically passing out from the orgasm he just gave you, you realize he's been speaking the entire time.

You happen to catch the tail end of his words.

"–ve you, I fucking– I– fuck-" Rafe whines, and the sound vibrates your lips that are pressed against his vocal cord. "It's like you're made for me, feel so fucking nice, so pretty on top of me, I– fuck. How could I– When you–? With the–? Oh my god, oh my fucking god."

All you can respond with is a low moan, overstimulated as you come down from your earth-shattering orgasm as he fucks himself using you through his, his cum leaking out of you and spilling down your thighs and onto his lower stomach. The sight of it makes your breath hitch, breathless at how much you both came at the same time.

His bucking gradually ceases, becoming less and less grandiose and eventually settling in stillness as his chest heaves against yours. You register his hands trailing up and down your back soothingly, lips pressed to your hairline and placing chaste kisses with sweet nothings riddled between them. Your eyes flutter shut, butterfly kissing the skin on his neck that makes goosebumps adorn his arms.

The two of you sit like this for a minute, mentally coming down from the daze your simultaneous orgasms put you through. Once your vision returns to normal (i.e. you're no longer seeing stars every time you open your eyes to try and look at him), you gently press the palm of your hands to his shoulders, pushing yourself up off his chest to sit up and find some semblance of independence.

Your brain is foggy, no doubt, as you hazardously sway as you blink at him, heart racing as you discover he's already looking at you.

"Holy shit," you murmur, dazed and fighting exhaustion.

He exhales shakily. "I know."

You manage a wry smile. "That was-"

"I know," he repeats bashfully, a smile twitching the corner of his mouth.

With a trembling hand, you reach up to push his glasses further up his nose, letting your fingers dwell on the metal sides before bringing it down to cup his jaw. It's as if you're a ghost in your own body, feeling airy and light yet wrecked all the same, shaking as if you've been left in the freezing cold with no amenities, shaking as if he just gave you the best orgasm you've ever had.

Noticing your frailness, you laugh in a self deprecating way. "I think I passed out."

Rafe exhales a shaky chuckle, one of disbelief, as a hand travels up to the side of your neck, keeping your head in place from all the swaying. Though a flicker of concern coats over his eyes at the hazy smile you're flashing him, eyes blinking ferociously as if they're regaining sight.

It makes him frown. "Did you? Are you okay?"

You nod, lazy yet immediate. "Uhm, did you hear me? I think our neighbors are gonna kill us."

A boyish laugh escapes his lips, and he lets himself ease into the fact that you're fine, you're smiling, you're gazing at him like he hung the goddamn stars himself.

His thumb brushes a tear from the corner of your eye, one that you didn't know you had, humming low and sure as his eyes rake over the features of your pretty face. Now, you're left in the stilled silence of your own doing, basking in the aftermath of your actions, of the words that led you to this point. Your heart skips a beat at the vulnerability, knowing it's more than sex, knowing that what you're feeling right now – the gravitational pull towards him – is reciprocated, especially as his gaze softens. It's replaced by something deeper, more raw, cut open for you to do what you please.

The intensity of his stare makes your breath hitch, and, despite literally what just occurred, a wave of shyness overcomes you, averting your gaze down to his chest.

But in your bottom peripheral, you catch a glimpse of the fucking mess.

Your eyes widen, looking down to where your bodies connect. "Oh my god."

His gaze follows lazily, glancing at the sight with nonchalance for his soaked bedsheets, suppressing a shit eating grin as he continues to see small amounts of cum still dripping out of you, as if there's an endless supply of it inside you, continuously adding to the plethora of a mess on his (freshly washed, by the way) bedsheets.

You blink stupidly, attempting to fathom the sheer amount of mere sex all over your lower bodies, all over the sheets, some of it even grazing his abdomen. How did that even get there? How could the two of you produce that much? And – oh, god – is it ever going to come out of his sheets? Fuck, is it leaking through?

But he has no qualm with the matter, and instead beams at the fact.

"That was all you, sweet girl," he teases with a hand skimming the faint bruises starting to form on your hip. "You came so hard. You squir-"

Your hand comes up to cover his mouth.

Your face scrunches up in embarrassment at the word, because you fucking hate the term, and frankly assumed it was a myth for the longest time since you've never done it before, nor have any of your friends. Yet your heart thumps at the possibility that – most of – this mess is from you.

No, it couldn't be. It can't be.

Because if it is, he is never, ever going to let you live it down, and you can count on that for a fact.

Eyeing him quickly and feeling your face flush as he stares right at you, eyes twinkling with amusement, you remove your hand from his mouth and ring your fingers together, looking back down to the sheets with a dismissive scoff.

"I did not," you argue meekly because, frankly, you have no idea if you did or not. You don't even know what that was. "This is all yours."

Rafe's grin is blinding, teasing, fucking proud. "You totally did. Went everywhere, baby."

Face flushing, you groan and throw your hands up to cover your face, hating how hot your skin feels at his laugh and complete nonchalance over the matter.

"Fuck," you murmur as you take in the sight of it. "Are you serious? But I didn't– I don't even– How could I–?"

Instead of answering, he whistles low. "Holy shit, you really did pass out, didn't you?"

You refuse to answer, taking your bottom lip in between your teeth as guilt riddles your chest for ruining his sheets. Expensive ones, at that. You're assuming it has a crazy thread-count imported from god-knows-where, as he's the person to get the best of the best of material things as long as he has the means to obtain them. You've always liked sleeping in his room on the random occurrence it would happen, partly because his bed is always so damn comfortable, the sheets definitely having something to do with it.

"I'll wash them" you offer quietly, slight panic settling in now that you're – somewhat – back to normal and coherent enough to register that this is a problem. "I'll buy you new ones-"

But, of course, Rafe simply shakes his head, pressing his palms against your spine to lure you closer, letting the words die in your throat as he tugs you against his lips. He kisses you slow yet meaningful, a wordless promise that he's not mad about something like this, he's not even concerned, barely letting his beaming smile falter at the thought of having to clean it up. He's only thinking about you, you, you.

"No need," he murmurs against your mouth, still fucking grinning. "I'm framing and putting this shit on my wall."

You groan at his words, cheeks unabashedly hot.

"Gonna time-stamp it and everything," he adds just to be a prick. "Wave it around like a flag, and shit."

You want the ground to swallow you whole. "Stop."

"Wear it like armor."

"You're insufferable."

"And you're hot. I mean it, baby. I'm gonna get you to do that every time."

"Rafe."

"What?" He says incredulously as if it isn't the most embarrassing thing to ever happen to you. "You can't expect me not to go crazy over that, hm?"

You only shake your head at him, but you suppose if the roles were reversed, you'd definitely feel an inclination to drawl out the teasing to a T. After all, riling him up is one of your favorite past-times, as riling you up actually might be his number one.

Eventually, you secede. Especially when he threatens you with another orgasm.

After he cleans you up and delicately dresses you in his own clothes, with wobbly legs you attempt to help him strip the sheets (even though all he told you to do is sit at his desk and look pretty, which you wholeheartedly refused to do) and replace them with his spare set. In an effort to get your shit together, you use the communal restroom to wash up, taking one of his spare toothbrushes – because of course he has one – and using it. He goes into the restroom across the hall, stating he was bored of being alone, to freshen himself up.

When you return to his room with him hot on your tail, you slither back onto the clean sheets and settle under them as if you were made to lay there.

Getting comfortable, you quietly watch him resume his tasks of the night: organizing his notes, taking off his glasses and leaving them askew – to your utter dismay – as his shirt and sweatpants follow, leaving him in boxers, and finally turning off his desk lamp as he navigates through the dark and and climbs into bed beside you. 

It’s muscle memory the way you puzzle-piece your way into each other’s arms. Rafe tugs you impossibly close, placing a chaste kiss on your hairline as your hands splay across his bare chest, nearly sighing in relief at the familiarity. It's unfathomably inviting, it's cloud nine, it's home.

When he starts to twirl your hair with his nimble fingers, you sigh again.

“Tired?” Rafe murmurs gently. 

All you do is nod against his neck, placing a ginger kiss on his vocal cord.

He hums at your sweet gesture, nearly melting at the implication. “Okay, sweet girl. Go to sleep. I'll be up early tomorrow but you can sleep in, m'kay?”

Tomorrow. Early morning. Notes. Glasses.

Fuck. Exam.

Your eyes flutter open as you remember his night before you arrived, all the papers scattered on his desk, the reason he was wearing those godforsaken glasses in the first place, the open textbook on his computer, the entire reason he was up so late in the first place.

A kettlebell settles in your gut.

“Wait.” Rafe hums lazily in response. “What about your exam?”

With a chuckle, he nuzzles into your hair, unbothered.

“Baby, if I don’t know it by now, there’s no use.”

Part of you feels guilty. Guilty about plaguing his conscience for the betterment of a week and – no doubt – pulling his focus from his studies and all of the important shit going on in his life. Guilty about arriving at his door in the middle of the night and – again – pulling his concentration from what he needs to pay attention to in order to get the marks he needs to pass.

Guilty about everything you've put him through, him, Rafe, your Rafe, who's been so patient with you in your journey of self discovery or whatever bullshit.

“I can help,” you offer weakly, as he rubs soothing up and down your back. “I’m a good teacher.”

Rafe chuckles quietly and you nearly frown, unsure of his nonchalance. 

“Best teacher I know,” he murmurs. His voice is deep and baritone and it practically lulls you to sleep. 

Your eyes are already closed. “Let me help. Please.”

“Very sweet of you. Go to sleep.”

“‘M really smart. You said so.”

“I did.”

You yawn. “What’s the class?”

Rafe doesn’t answer for a minute, and you soon believe he falls asleep. But then, quietly, “Art history.”

Your heart flutters. “I know about that.”

A warm hand rubs up and down your back. “I’m sure you do, baby.” Then, it cradles the back of your head in brazen laziness. “Sleep.”

His voice emulates a lullaby, low and alluring and smooth. Impossibly, you nuzzle closer to him with a stupid smile on your face. Grinning against his neck, you press the lightest kiss you can muster as your hands gently skim over the hills and divots of his chest, grounding yourself, a reminder that this is real. He’s here, right here, holding you, reciprocating your love, your want, your need. 

“Stop smiling,” he says above you, but his tone is far from authoritative. Instead it’s softer, as if he’s suppressing a smile as well. “I can feel it.”

You squirm when he pinches your side, reciprocating the act and attempting to tickle him, but he doesn’t budge in the slightest.

Suddenly, Rafe grabs your wrists lightning fast and pins them high over your head, the motion forcing you on your back as he hovers over you. Despite the darkness, you can feel his face inches from yours, breath fanning over your lips. 

“I thought you wanted me to go to sleep,” you challenge. 

Rafe snorts. “You’re being a brat.”

Ah, that word. That sort of behavior has gotten you in trouble before, and the thought of annoying him makes you grin even harder. 

“Rafey, that’s hardly nice.”

The guttural groan he lets out makes you laugh quite unattractively, letting out an oof when he collapses against your body and therefore crushing you. Nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck, he shakes his head and mumbles something incoherent against your soft skin that feels like a million pin pricks to each nerve.

His hand leaves your wrists and slowly drags down your arm, settling on the top of your ribcage just under the swell of your breast, lazily rubbing his thumb over the grooves and curves of the bone with little to no shame whatsoever. 

The act gives you goosebumps. “What? Nothing to say?”

“Go to bed.”

You hum, kneading your fingers through his hair and smiling when he lets out a content sigh. “Okay, fine.”

Rafe practically clings to you, breathing in your scent and unabashedly nestling into your embrace. Your fingers through his hair feel so achingly familiar, and he doesn’t realize how much he’s missed it until now. He feels your lips gently press on the crown of his head, his heart skipping a beat as he involuntarily lets out another sigh, a wordless thank you for trusting him, believing in him, and – most importantly – letting yourself have this. Trusting him. Trusting yourself.

Exhaustion seeps through his pores, eyelids heavily shutting as his body seems to sink deeper into the mattress, deeper against your body. Your nails lightly scraping his scalp and back quickly lure him to sleep, so gentle and adorning that he’s so close to–

"Hey."

"Sweet girl, I said go to bed."

You pause for a moment, elongated the silence in the darkness as he can practically hear you thinking. After a second, he frowns as he just now analyzed your tone, which was far from teasing.

He's about to prompt you to continue when you shift slightly above him, and his heart fucking melts when he feels your lips press a kiss against his hairline.

"Those photographs are beautiful."

Despite the complete darkness, and despite the fact that even if the light was on, you wouldn't be able to see his face anyway given his position, his face flushes hot.

Because you weren't really supposed to see those. They'd been the final prints he submitted for his photography class, tasked to photograph the pleasantries of life that may emulate beauty in everyday life. And, to him, he wanted you as his everyday muse since you already occupy almost every waking thought of his.

Rafe sat on the prompt for the entire semester, never once finding a muse meaningful enough to him to make him feel like he could complete the assignment. However, once Lorenza had given him the camera, the task seemed like the easiest thing he's ever done. Plus, you made it pretty simple. You emulated effortless beauty. All day. Everyday.

"I had a pretty model," is all he responds with.

And your thanks is translated enough when you press another kiss to his forehead, ticking his soft skin with your gentle breaths, and all he can think is sweet, sweet, sweet girl. It's concerning, really, how he really only thinks of you. He thinks of you when he wakes up, when he sees something funny, when he's scribbling down notes, when he goes to sleep.

So. Yeah. You are his everyday beauty. By a longshot.

He continues to think of your pretty, of how warm you feel pressed against him, how sweet you smell. He remembers how you looked in the moonlight, the candlelight, under the Sicilian sun with a glisten he could swoon over. It lulls him to sleep. Simply the image of you, you, y–

“Rafe?”

Rafe’s pulled from his slumber, barely lifting a finger and humming in response. He can’t even open his eyes, bloodshot and tired from all the studying. 

“Do you want me to come home with you for Christmas?”

Out of all the things he expected you to say, that has to be the last topic on the list. 

All exhaustion comes to a halt as his eyes blearily blink open, unsure if he’s heard you right, as the question is so out of left field that he doubts you actually said what he thinks you said. Despite his head feeling like a million pounds, he manages to lift it so he’s looking at you in the darkness.

Rafe can just make out the outline of your face. “What?”

He hates how small his voice is. 

But your fingers continue to massage his scalp and he feels you shrug underneath him.

“I dunno, I was thinking I could do for you what you did for me." Your voice is impossibly shy, almost as if you didn't mean to bring it up but now there's no going back. "Provide some moral support, I don’t know. Just a thought.”

Yes, he wants to scream. Of course he wants you to. 

It would make life incredibly easier, not to mention he’d get to spend more time with your undivided attention and shower you in a ridiculous amount of appreciation now that you're officially his. He can show you off to his friends and family and flaunt you around, shamelessly hold you and kiss you and not have to feel the slightest bit guilty about it. 

He'd tell you to bring that beaded dress he bought you, take you out to dinner on the mainland and fuck you for the whole island to hear. There's no doubt he's going to buy you anything under the sun that you express interest in, shower you with the kind of love you've been aching for for so long. He'd have to be assertive, though, because you're exactly the girl his sisters will immediately love, and there's no way he's going to be able to share you.

Rafe needs to relax.

Instead of saying all of that, he takes a deep breath. “You’re not going to Lorenza’s?”

“No,” you respond quietly. “I was supposed to go home so she’s already going on a trip with her girlfriends. But now I'm just...” You take a breath. "No, I'm not."

He frowns at the idea of you spending Christmas alone, because there’s absolutely no way you're going to go home and face your family again, and the long haul across the Atlantic feels like a chore after just recovering from doing so. 

“You can say no,” you murmur playfully. “I have a sublet lined up for the month.”

That makes Rafe scoff. “You’re not doing that.”

“I’m not?”

“No,” he commands. “You’ll spend it with me.”

Suddenly you clear your throat, almost shyly. “I didn’t mean to, like, invite myself. You seriously can say no–”

Rafe is sitting up before he knows it, leaning on an elbow and finding your jaw with his other hand to navigate through the darkness, and kissing you firmly enough to let it do all the talking for him. 

You mmrph in surprise into his mouth, effectively shutting you up and assumingely shutting down any doubts you have about the entire idea. Rafe kisses you certainly yet deliberately slow, as if to reassure you of his answer, that you don't have to stress about being too much, especially around him. In fact, he wants you to be too much, yourself, unapologetically you. He craves it, utterly deprived every second you're acting shy as if he wouldn't give you anything you asked for.

Pulling away, Rafe resumes his previous position and lowers onto your body, his original position. His lips find the soft skin of your neck and place a kiss there, sucking ever so slightly to emphasize his point, to stake his claim, to wash away your doubts. 

“I want you to stay with me,” he murmurs quietly. “Okay?”

You hum shyly. “Okay.”

Rafe runs his hands over your ribcage. “I need you to know something, though."

"Yeah?"

Your tone is so fucking sweet that it makes his upcoming words difficult, understanding you can completely hold your own against a family full of narcissists yet wanting to shield you from it all anyway. He wants to hide you away from it all, but he knows you're tough, you're strong, you're too kind for your own good.

"My dad probably won’t be the friendliest.” Rafe figures that's the nicer term for Ward. "He'll be charming and inviting when you first meet him, but behind closed doors..."

He trails off, not necessarily wanting to get into the specifics of his father's tendencies right now with you, laying pretty beside him and body exhausted with earlier passion. To subject you to this all over again, it makes his chest pull, knowing that his father will probably say or do something to remind you of the obscenities of your own family, to remind you of the darkness that shrouded you a week ago.

Before he can continue, you gently massage his scalp. "I understand. I'll be alright."

It makes him nearly swoon. "You're too sweet for your own good, hm? You can be mean to him if you want."

You laugh and he swears he's never heard a prettier sound.

"I'm not doing that."

"If I asked you nicely?"

Chuckling again, your nails rake down to the nape of his neck and back up to his scalp, making him sigh low into the confinements of your hold. But it's much more than physicality, it's almost a promise, reaffirming your stance and wordlessly convincing him that you have his back. Now and always.

"Still no," you murmur, and by the tone of it he swears you're smiling. "You're the one who said I'm incapable of being evil."

Rafe snorts. "I did."

You hum happily, content with 'winning' the conversation as you continue to massage absentmindedly. "Besides, I’m great with parents.”

This conversation feels all too familiar, full circle, echoing his words that he spoke to you all the time ago when your mother stormed into your dorm room, the catalyst for all of this, the start of the spiral to where you lay now with limbs entangled and hearts out in the open.

Shaking his head slightly and allowing himself to shut his eyes, Rafe murmurs in agreement, almost tauntingly.

“I’m sure you are, sweet girl.” Then, quieter, “Sleep.”

The words are like a command, and despite every effort to not do so, you find yourself babbling something incoherently, words soon dying in your throat as you fall asleep, but not without being lulled by the sound of his syncopated breaths, and that, somehow, his hand has found yours in the darkness, lacing your fingers together and squeezing gentle enough for it to be a long lasting reminder: he's here, and he's not going anywhere.

You let yourself succumb to that. You let yourself deserve it.

© salem-s please do not copy or replicate work without permission. mdni

notes holy shit???????? i have a few (more like a hundred) things to say. legit where do I begin.

thank you for 900 followers FIRST OF ALL i only started posting laaaaaate march (practically april) so this is absolutely incredible, thank you for all the support it's been so overwhelming in the best way. half of the comments genuinely make me lol and the other half make me legit spiral bc huh???? you like my stuff??? anyway.

for those who have sent me inbox messages: I SEE YOU!!! I APPRECIATE YOU!! I HAVE NOT IGNORED YOU!!! i'm gonna try to get around to answering them but trust i see y'all!!!!

on the topic of inbox messages, a few of you have been asking about if i'm open to blurbs, and i 100% am. i cannot guarantee i will be able to answer all of them (i started a full-time job??? crazy) but i would love to try and provide that.

okay i think that's it from me. again. THANK YOU FOR ALL THE SUPPORT i'm legit sad this is ending but, again, im open to blurbs about them so TRUST this def won't be the last time we read about them. GODSPEED!

[moesthoughts]

right where you left me

pairing : ex lottie matthews x reader

warnings : angst, hurt and comfort, exes to lovers, cannibalism and blood mentions, wilderness lottie

summary : lottie’s mind hasn’t left you ever since you broke up before the crash, luckily she’s the one to find you when you get lost in the forest.

So many months passed by since the plane crashed in the middle of nowhere, leaving you and your whole team stranded in a forest. Nobody has come to rescue you, everyone has lost hope. You try to remember the person you were when you got on that plane, how happy you were to get out of the house for once and fucking play in nationals. You aren’t that girl anymore, how could you return to that state of mind? Blood coating your hands, eating other human beings for survival, you’re no longer innocent.

Now that the summer has come, and the harsh heat controls everybody’s mood even more than the winter has, you decide to take up the job of foraging. It’s an easy way to get away from everyone, and you get to use the knowledge you’ve learned thus far for good. Picking berries that won’t make people sick, mushrooms that won’t kill, you wonder if you stab into a tree hard enough you’ll get maple syrup too.

You’ve been walking for hours, and no markers you previously made are visible. You’re starting to worry; there’s no way you can be lost. No matter how much your feet are screaming at you to stop walking you keep going, and going, and going. Until you stop, giving up entirely. You sit on a log a bury your face into your hands, the reality of being lost settling in. You wonder how Javi survived all that time, especially in the winter. Could you do that? Tears sting the corner of your eyes, your shoulders starting to shake from the stress. The best thing you can do is stay put and hope for the best.

You’re finally thinking about getting off your ass when you hear footsteps from behind you, your head perks up and turns to see who it is. Though, you’re disappointed to see it’s your ex girlfriend, Lottie Matthews. You two broke up before nationals, you’ve never played so well at a soccer game. It wasn’t like she was a bad person, she was emotionally distant from you, and you couldn’t handle that. So you split up. Now here she is, somehow finding you at your worst.

“You shouldn’t be this far.”

Lottie speaks, making a chill run down your spine. You can’t help but nod in agreement, that much was obvious. You don’t know how you managed to lose your way around woods you’re so familiar with. She sat down next to you, resting her arms on her legs. She has that same soft look as always, minus the malice that shined in her eyes.

“Did they send you to find me?”

You mumble in response. You wipe your face, wet with tears. Lottie’s face expression softens, a small huff coming from her mouth. You want to believe that she was forced to come out to get you, that you’re a burden on her back, you want her to hate you. Her fingers caress your arm, your wants washing away at her touch. Lottie could never hate you, she’s constantly worrying about your health, your feelings, but she stays away for your sake.

“I came out here to find you, because I was worried.”

She was whispering, her tone being sickeningly sweet. Your eyes fall on her, welling with tears. You feel so many emotions, yet you don’t know how to express them. She walked all this way just to find you, and god knows how far you are from camp. You feel warm inside, knowing that Lottie still cares about you. You didn’t stop loving her, and you never had any harsh feelings towards her. It was unfortunate what happened, you know, you shouldn’t get that close with her again. However, with the look she’s giving you and her gentle touch on your skin, you can’t help but scoot closer to her.

“Lottie..”

You stare at her, taking in her beautiful face. She softly smiles, her hand traveling to your back. You two are closer than ever, you feel her warm breath on your face. Her lips are the prettiest pink, and her eyes are drawing you closer. You shouldn’t do this, get yourself intertwined with her again. It feels so right though, her touch, her smile, her tone. It brings you back to the person you used to be, the girl you want to have back so desperately.

“I don’t want to make you uncomf—“

Lottie shushes you, her free hand resting on your cheek. You press your lips together, trying to maintain eye contact with the girl in front of you. Memories flood your mind, the make out sessions in your bedroom, the phone calls, the pregame kisses, her touch lingering on your body every time she left. Unlike you, Lottie embraces the person she’s turned into. You wonder if you should ditch the nostalgia, and accept yourself.

“This is supposed to happen.”

Her words are all it takes to convince you to bridge the gap between you both. Your lips are on hers, the kiss is gentle, needy. Lottie’s hands are idle on your body, while yours travel hers, trying to cover every curve you’ve missed so much. She presses her body against yours, giving you the warmth you’ve needed so desperately. That same dizzy sensation you always felt before the crash hitting you hard. Maybe this was supposed to happen, fate pulled you both back together, or whatever “it” is was the cause. You know fully that’s what she believes.

You break off the kiss and stare at her plump lips, a breathy giggle escapes her. It’s like looking at an old painting, relishing a sight you’ve longed to see. Lottie pulls you up to your feet, her eyes lingering on you before grabbing your hand.

“Let’s head back.”

not a req BUT I ADORE THIS IDEA UGHHHH

req me!

masterlist

[miaoua3]

hey! i just saw that u opened requests and i came here to ask If you could do a seventeen reaction when you're on your ovulation week..? like, what goes on on their mind seeing you so needy, almost begging for them.. 🫠 i would really appreciate that 'cuz i LOVE your writing! thank you!! 🩷

(embarrassed to say this but this request has been sitting in my inbox for MONTHS😭 gurl im so sorry im only answering it now, i hope you dont hate me too much🫶 also don’t mind how much more porn-descriptive it got half way through, i kinda…lost the plot halfway through lmao)

SVT & Your Ovulation Week

scoups-a natural care taker who goes insane at seeing you so needy, eyes glazed as you literally beg him to fuck you. normally would try to keep it cool and collected, but you are just so needy, all the restraint he possesses gets thrown out of the window in the name of pounding into your insatiable pussy. literally goes on for hours, still has the strength to fold you in half and absolutely ruin you, even after 4 rounds. he won’t stop until he has you sobbing his name while underneath his body, until the sheets are soaked through completely. his dick might as well fall off in the end because he isn’t stopping, no matter what. overall he loses his mind at seeing you so needy, begging for him to break you (both mentally and physically)

jeonghan-normally he would be all teasing and borderline sinister as he edges you to no end, but he knows how high your emotions can run during your ovulation that he kind of just…shuts up and fuck you till he almost passes out😭 but overall loves seeing you so needy and desperate for him, gets him a bit cocky knowing that he’s the one you seek out during your emotional and vulnerable times to take care of you. in the end he physically can’t go for longer, ends up just laying there with shaking legs and just says “use me if you still need to, but fuck i am NOT moving anymore”😭 (you literally fuck his brains out)

joshua-loving, caring, and downright sinister to you all at once. he mostly goes with whatever you are feeling-he can either make the most romantic love to you or he can tie you up and make you sob for the next 3 hours. in either way-he takes care of you, body and soul. he loves seeing you so needy, so desperate for him-his love, his cock and his presence. he loves having an excuse to just shut off the world for hours and just do what he loves the most-fucking you until your whole body is shaking

jun-is so scared of doing something to piss you off so he just…shuts up and does whatever you tell him to. want him to eat you out? 🫡already on it. want him to fuck you and not to stop for the next 6 hours?…well if he can just make a small pause for a snack he’s pretty sure he can do it. embodiment of “yes ma’am” in general, but during your ovulation week? your words are his prayer, he lives to please you and make you lose your mind over everything that he does to you. overall a bit overwhelmed at how needy you get but nothing he can’t handle. even if he couldn’t, he would push through it because seeing you so…cock hungry wakes something entirely different inside of him.

hoshi-oh probably the only one who acts even worse and needier than you. he can see all the signs-glazed eyes and furrowed eyebrows, the word “please” on the tip of your tongue and grabby hands, and he knows what time of the month is. he will NOT let you leave the bed for like a day straight, hands grabbing you and dragging you back to him as he says “where do you think you are going? we are nowhere near done yet.” so…rip to your pussy girl lmao i just know its gonna be BURNING from how hard and raw he will go at it. actually loses his insanity whenever he sees you get so hungry for him during your ovulation week, so in return he will make you go just as insane

wonwoo-cocky motherfucker who thoroughly enjoys seeing you begging for him to fuck you and to absolutely destroy your needy pussy. he’s all smirks and “oh yeah?”, ego getting fed every time you beg for him to give it to you. uses your neediness to play with you-not too much because you will probably whack him or drag him to your bed and take what you want and need from him, but just a little to get your senses heightened. overall very pleased seeing you let yourself be at his mercy, makes you dehydrated from how often he makes you cum on his face, fingers and cock, and makes sure that you are satiated

woozi-oh this man will have you shaking for DAYS from how much he would fuck you. something about your constant neediness and horniness makes him snap. completely loses all sense of self in the name of making you absolutely SOAK his sheets, be it from his fingers, tongue, dick or even a vibrator. it’s almost like your pheromones affect his so much that he too loses all control, wanting to just suffocate himself in your pussy. to say that he absolutely LOVES seeing you so needy for him and his touch, is an understatement. his chest fills with this weird sense of…pride? pride that he’s the one you seek out to fulfil your needs. pride that you trust him enough to take care of you during your probably most sensitive weeks. pride that you are his to take care of.

minghao-calm and collected on the outside but inside his mind there’s a whole storm brewing due to your glassy eyes and pleading voice. gets more teasing when he sees you like that-desperate and hungry for him. but not too much-his fingers tease your folds a second longer than usual, his lips stay on your pussy just to the point where he can feel your legs clamp around his head, he teases his dick against your folds just until you start whining and pulling him towards yourself. his brain just malfunctions whenever he sees you in this state, a primal need to prolong your neediness as much as possible by teasing you, by taking his time with you.

mingyu-if you think you are needy, you obviously haven’t seen gyu. it’s enough for you to pull on his shirt and look at him with those puppy eyes that scream “fuck me🥺please” and he’s a goner. he’s all over you, all tongue and spit while he’s messily kissing you, his big hands holding your cheeks. desperately grinds and humps against your clothed core, too impatient to take them off and too needy so he can’t help but roll his clothed dick into your heat. he isn’t stopping with pleasuring you until the sheets are soaked completely. he can’t help himself, it’s almost like your pheromones affect him just as much so he gets as needy as you do. one smell of your sweet pussy is all it takes for him to lose all senses, all thoughts to disappear from his head. the needy to have you moaning, screaming and crying out his name is just so strong he choses to give up all the control, all pride and self respect, there’s only ever you

dk-it can go in two ways for this one. first, he’s either all loving, romantic and sweet, whispering loving words to you as he slowly grinds his hips into your own, dick deliciously grazing the sides of your inner wall. he just wants to take care of you, to make you feel satisfied, to satisfy your deep needs. he won’t ever day no to you, doing his best to make his baby feel loved, appreciated and taken care of. two, he literally becomes this insatiable animal, literally spinning you around the room, throwing you on the bed before he drags you to the floor, all while fucking you at insane speeds. fucks you from the bed all the way to the kitchen counter. he won’t let you move an inch away from you, all over you, licking, biting and marking you as his. and what version you will get during the next ovulation? who knows, guess you will just have to sit and wait and see 🤷‍♀️

seungkwan-oh this smirky and cocky motherfucker. usually he’s acting like a virgin mary whenever you try to insinuate that you want to fuck, all scandalised and gasping, blushing while saying to take him to the dinner first. but when you’re ovulating? when he can clearly see you get all needy? when he can sense that you will either get him to give you what you want or that you will take it yourself? oh it’s game on then. going slow, to the point where you start crying in frustration but also from how good it feels. all the while he whispers in that deep voice of his things like “oh does my angel want more? want me to fuck you harder? to give it to you, just like you want it? how you need it? why don’t you try begging some more baby, see if i will care then.” he’s do meannnn but it’s so hot-it’s hot how confident he suddenly is, how with only his words he can reduce you to a whining and needy mess that you are. he loves seeing you so desperate for him, he can’t help himself but be a bit meaner so he can see you literally begging for him. it all makes him feel…proud in a fucked up way. in conclusion-ovulation time is his favourite time of the month

vernon-probably the least affected one. sure, it gets him all excited and makes him want to make you satisfied, but you won’t see him act like an animal like some of them do, nor will you see him fucking you for hours to no end. he will keep you satisfied and all, but he physically can’t go for longer than two rounds, he’s way too dehydrated for long fucking sessions as it is. still, he will try his hardest to keep you satisfied, even if in other ways. he knows how sensitive you are to many things, that’s why he’s always there to comfort you, both with his hugs, and his mouth on your sweet pussy. he knows that you get the need to crawl inside his skin, that nothing feels close enough. that’s why he will cuddle you so much until you become one, or he will literally let you feel his whole weight while he’s on top of you, hips rolling in deep movements as he’s fucking you. he knows how you need him to verbally show you that he loves you. that’s why he will gently kiss your forehead and whisper a little “i love you” every few hours-or, he will grab your neck, spit in your mouth and say “you are mine.” he will take care of you, that’s for sure-in which way however?🤷‍♀️ who knows

dino-oh poor boy. oh this poor poor boy. the moment you get your hands on him, he knows it’s going to be an eventful night. he doesn’t even fight it-the moment you grab the front of his shirt and practically throw him on your bed, he just accepts it and prepares for the longest and best fucking session of his life. he gets unusually submissive, he does whatever you want him to. you grab his hair and drag him to your pussy so he can eat you out? say less, your wish is his command. you want him to fuck you in a certain position? he’s breaking his back from how fast he tries to get into that position. he just wants to give you everything you might need. he can’t really explain why, he just…does. seeing you so needy, but still being needy only for him? it turns his brain into a mush. he’s already whipped for you as it is, but add all the emotions and pheromones while you are ovulating? you get simp dino maxxed out on the attitude “yes ma’am”.

[xoxxbilliexoxx]

Use Me, I’m Yours

———————————————

Billie comes home angry and you’re her favorite stress relief. You spread your legs, ready to take her strap, but she has other plans

Established Relationship, Strap-on (B receiving), Dom!Billie x Sub!Reader, intense orgasm & squirting

Y/N POV

The soft sound of Billie’s car tires splashing against the wet pavement pulls me out of my thoughts as I lay stomach down across my bed. She’s been gone all day dealing with meetings about tour and other boring things that the outside world forgets she must manage.

She was dreading it this morning, hiding under the covers and pulling me close to her, fake crying about how badly she just wanted to stay next to me all day. I finally made her get up and while she begrudgingly got ready I made us both a protein smoothie and a piece of toast with almond butter- a breakfast we have been fixated on for the last 3 weeks.

I hear the front door open and close and my heart flutters at the excitement of my girlfriend returning home to me. I want Billie to end each of her days next to me, holding her in bed until we’re old and grey, enjoying the warmth of her wrinkly fingers interlaced with mine. My head stays resting in my hand as I anxiously wait for her to greet me, listening out for each of her steps to grow louder and louder as she gets closer.

Something feels different though, sounds different. The way her feet hit the wood floors is filled with emotion. It’s fast and it’s heavy. I lay still and wait, trying not to assume anything.

My door swings open and Billie’s energy fills the room. It’s hard to read, hard to grasp what it is she’s feeling. A small stuffed duffle bag is thrown onto the floor with a harsh echoed landing and within seconds Billie’s hands grab my ankles, pulling me towards the edge of the bed with a low grunt and a loud yelp from my own mouth.

Before I can speak I'm flipped around and pulled into a heated kiss. Billie’s soft lips guide every motion, every push and pull, every hungry drag of her skin against mine.

Moments pass before I pull away with a gasp, dazed and overwhelmed by the sudden passion.

“Well hello to you too, lovey” I say as I gain control of my mind once again.

“mmmmm hi baby, missed you so much” her words purr out of her, their tone rich with need and desire.

“How was your day? How were your meetings?” I question with a smile and intense eye contact that secretly makes my core throb.

She's still in the same position as she was when she kissed me, standing above me next to the edge of the bed, legs on either side of mine as I sit below her. She’s hovering over me and looking down with an intensity that fills my brain with blind anticipation, not knowing at all what might be coming but eager nonetheless.

“horrible, I hated every moment of them. everything is all fucked up and I felt like I was going to explode all day. I got it all figured out but i’m still just as fucking frustrated.”

I feel frozen for a moment, not used to seeing Billie angry, not sure how to engage. Before I can respond, she speaks again.

“I’m fucking pent up. Need you. Need you now”

Her hand wraps around my neck as she talks, biting her bottom lip as soon as she’s done. As her fingers squeeze just slightly I try to speak, my voice only partially able to come out. I feel pathetic, my words sound like a desperate moan.

“Do what you want, i’m yours baby”

“yeah?” she cocks her head as she questions me, a dirty smirk painted across her face, not at all trying to hide how much she wants me.

I fight against her hand as I nod my head and swallow, barely able to do either as she tightens her grip on my neck for just a moment before she pulls away. She grabs my waist with an intensity that makes my blood surge before she throws me onto the bed with a quiet aggression and walks away.

I prop myself up on my elbows and watch as she shuffles around in the inside of her bag. Billie has tons of clothes and toiletries here at my place, just as I do at her place, I’m not used to seeing her bring a bag over anymore and for just a moment my mind is brought back to the beginning of this whole adventure, when things were still so new and nervous excitement constantly raged through my body.

That same nervous excitement tingles against my skin as Billie turns around with the strap-on in her hands. Her eyes glow with desire as she moves towards me with a seemingly intentional slowness, as if she’s teasing. But it doesn’t feel directed at me, it looks as if she’s playing a game with herself, letting her desire build till she can’t control it any longer.

I lay still, letting my brain soak in the image of her now topless figure, hands filled with the promise of pleasure, hips swaying back and forth as she floats towards me. When the bed tips and her hands find my skin I lose my breath for just a moment.

The energy dripping off of her is still that of anger, of frustration that lingers even as she kisses my neck. It’s the anger that leads each of her motions, yet still she meets me with a tender touch, tender yet intentional, tender yet charged.

When her hands find the waistband of my sweatpants she yanks them hard enough to pull my thong down with it, happy to see what she has done. My wetness hits my inner thighs, a clear sign of the way her aggressive hunger turns me on.

My shirt comes off next, pulled up slowly as her hands glide past my newly exposed skin. They move slow enough to feel each goosebump they cause. It all feels like an orchestrated game, like she’s building her own hunger till she’s starving.

The anticipation of the feeling of her strap filling me up is overwhelming, my need bubbling up quickly. I’m pained with a heavy throb from the lack of touch where I need her most, squirming at the thought of her taking her anger out on me.

My mouth pools with saliva as I watch her slide off the rest of her own clothes, my eyes move slowly to take her in. She’s perfect, her body is meant to be a marble statue in a museum, permanently capturing her goddess-like figure.

When her hands reach for the strap-on my heart beats just a bit faster, my slick dripping from my core just a bit more. I’m eager to watch her fit it to her round hips, a sight that always takes the air from my lungs.

I get snapped out of my dazed observations when she slides it up my own legs, tightening the straps snuggly against my waist. Her actions are confident, like she’s following a planned attack.

“Need you so bad, need to use you baby, that okay?” Her question is rhetorical, it’s clear as she nods with her words. I swallow as I nod in response, all words and thoughts gone from my mind- all that’s left is an urgent need to watch Billie use me in a new way.

My hands move underneath my head, back flat on the bed, as I lay naked under Billie. Her legs are straddling me as she guides my plastic dick between her folds, coating it in her arousal before sinking down, letting its thickness fill her entirely. Her head is thrown back and a powerful groan echoes against the 4 walls of my bedroom.

She moans out quiet expletives like a whisper, like she’s only speaking to herself. It’s as if she’s forgotten I'm here, completely and totally focused on her own pleasure, her own desires. It’s something I never knew I needed, the way she’s entirely using me to get herself off.

Her jaw is clenched tight as she begins gliding up and down on my faux cock, closed mouth whines filling the air as she takes in the feeling.

I think about the fact that she planned this, brought these toys here with the intention of fucking herself on me, needing it so badly she went the opposite direction to stop at her house and gather her x rated supplies. It makes this all the more hot knowing it was premeditated, knowing she wanted it this much, thought about it this much.

“oh god, fuck yes baby, needed this so bad, needed to fuck myself on you so bad, feels so good for me, you feel so good for me mama”

Her eyes stay closed as she speaks, her voice is sent straight to the ceiling as her head faces up. Yet still the filthy words fill my ears and send shivers down my spine all the way to my toes. They mix with my blood and throb against my clit, making it feel all the more powerful each time she bottoms out and the base rubs my swollen bud perfectly.

I groan at the sight above me, her curves on full display, fingers toying with her own nipples as her perfect tits bounce with each motion. Her eyes are slammed shut and her bottom lip is trapped between her teeth, biting so hard a small drop of blood spills out, an intense contrast against the bright white of her teeth.

“you’re mine, you know that? all fucking mine” It comes out as a growl and again it seems as those she’s saying these words for herself, her own ears and her own pleasure. Her intense ownership and dominance is getting her off even faster.

Billie’s bouncing speeds up, moving her hips up and down faster and faster as her erotic cries grow louder, more whiny, more uncontrolled. Her hands leave her own boobs to grab mine before leaning down against me, forearms pressed against my skin and holding her up as she begins throwing her ass up and down as fast as she can.

I’m mesmerized by her, watching as she continues to use me, continues to fuck herself on me and get herself off, working off her anger while getting closer and closer to her peak.

“fuck y/n! fuck fuck fuck” it comes out as a high pitched whine as her movements grow sloppier. Her lips hit the skin of my neck but they don’t move, they just stay pressed firmly on my flesh, like she can’t focus enough to kiss me.

“need you, need you, gah fuck need you baby” Her words are muffled against my skin as she cries against me. my own loud moans spill out, ones that have been stuck in my chest for a while. I feel completely submissive under her, pathetically bucking up my hips to get as much friction as I can against my needy clit.

“gunna cum! oh my god i’m gunna cum” the end of her words are punctuated by a loud gasp as her movements stutter, unable to keep up the rhythm as her pleasure consumes her. Her legs shutter above me and her boobs push against mine as she collapses on my chest. Right as her moments halt, taken over by her high, I grab her hips harshly with both my hands and continue to move her up and down on the strap at the same rapid pace.

“that’s right baby, fucking cum for me billie, use me just like that, cum all over me, that’s its” my tone is aggressive, knowing it’s what she wants, what she needs, as she moves through her orgasm.

After more than 30 seconds she’s still cumming hard, still crying out and digging her nails into my shoulders. With a sudden scream I’m coated in her liquids as she squirts everywhere, gasping and arching and scratching at my skin.

I finally stop my forced movement of her hips, letting her fully collapse on top of me as she tries to calm her body down. Her nails are still clawing at my shoulders, muscles still clenched, breath still heavy.

“jesus fucking christ” she finally whispers.

I feel her plush lips place tender kisses on my neck when her breath begins to calm. Our bodies stay connected, her pussy still wrapped around the extension of me she just used for her pleasure, for her stress relief.

We stay like this for a few minutes, connected, quiet, intimate.

“feel better lovey?” I break the silence as my nails run up and down her sweaty back, tracing the lines of her back tattoo.

“So much better” she giggles back at me while pushing to sit up. A quiet moan slips out as she lifts her hips and slides off the strap on, laughing slightly as she sees how big of a mess she’s made, the bed all around us completely drenched.

A mischievous smirk slides across her face as she begins to fiddle with the harness still hugging me tight.

“help me get this off of you, wanna fuck my cum into you, wanna make you add to this mess now”

[rafesbabygirlx]

✧ Blurb- toxic!rafe runs into his exgf!reader at a bar

✧ Warnings: MDNI 18+ smut (public sex, squirting) mention of smoking, mention of past mental manipulation

✧ .8k words

✧ 𝙼𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙻𝙸𝚂𝚃 | 𝚃𝙰𝙶𝙻𝙸𝚂𝚃

It wasn’t supposed to happen. You weren’t supposed to see him. He wasn’t supposed to catch you alone in the dim hallways at the back of the bar. You had gone back there to smoke really quick not wanted to step outside the bar, when he appeared behind you.

“Whatcha doing all by yourself?” He walked over, pressing his back against your chest. You could see the smirk without having to turn around.

“I was just leaving.” You go to brush past him but he grabs your arm yanking you back. His nose grazing through your hair. Giving it a slight sniff.

“I missed you.”

“Sure you did. Just like when you’d leave me for days to go see Barry. Where is your boyfriend?”

Rafe chuckled at that. “You fell in love with a mess. Don’t act all surprised when I act like in. Just admit it.”

“Admit what?” You try your hardest to yank your arm from his grasp.

“That you miss me too.”

“I miss no part of you. Not that way you’d manipulate me, or make me doubt myself, or use my vulnerabilities against me, or make me feel small so you could keep me like a little puppet. Should I keep going?”

A small flare erupted in Rafe’s expression. In a split second you were now pinned between him and the wall. “I’m pathetic, I know,” he rolled his eyes, hinting at the clear sarcasm. “But I know you think about me, I know no one can make you feel as good as me. I’ve been doing better y’know?”

He was right and you hated it. You missed him no matter how shitty he was. You missed the good in him that constantly pulled you back in. The bad outweighed the good, but the good was so good, that’s what made you not care.

Before you knew it your lips were on his. Gripping the back of his neck so hard, you were sure it’d leave a bruise. His mouth traveled down your neck. Leaving behind a bruise of his own.

He spun you around, your face pressing into the wall. He tugged up your dress, exposing your ass to the humid air of the stuffy hallway before giving it a harsh slap. His lips brushed against your earlobe as he whispered,

“Let’s see how much that little cunt is dripping for me.”

His fingers dove underneath your panties and into your folds. Not surprised to see how soaking wet you were. “Always fuckin ready for me.”

He removed himself from you and you heard the clanking of his belt as he freed himself from his pants. He spread your thighs with his knee before rubbing his tip, coating it up in your juices.

He buried himself balls deep inside you, while letting out a loud groan. The music from back in the bar was loud, no one would know what you’re doing. He immediately back to thrust in and out of you. Gripping your waist like you were going to slip away.

“S’ fuckin tight baby, I bet you haven’t had anyone else in this pussy. No one could compare to me and you know that. All for me. Even when I’m crazy.”

All you could do was moan. Because once again he was right. This was one of the things you missed about this man. The only one who could make you feel this good. You felt his hand snake up your back and into your hair. He pulled you off the wall and into his chest. His breath in your ear.

“Tell me. *thrust* This is pussy is mine. *thrust* That right?”

His continuation of his thrusts made you gasp. “F-fuck yes. Always Ra-Rafe.”

“That’s fuckin right.”

You felt your body tense. The coil in your lower stomach about to burst. Rafe’s hand came around to your front making tight circles in your clit. He knew what was doing and what worked on you.

“C’mon baby let that little cunt soak me.”

And it did just that. Hard. Your legs shook as the juices rushed out of you. Rafe came just as you started, pulling out but still rubbing circles on you making sure to get every last drop. Your breath was heavy and you swore you saw stars. The pants that sat on his thighs now soaked and it ran down your legs pooling around your heels. You can hear him slurp the excess off his fingers behind you.

He tugged down your dress and spun you back around to face him. Like a flip of a switch his eyes were soft, his expression full of admiration and longing. His fingers softly stroked your cheek as he looked down at you. “I wish you were still my girl.”

You were not shocked by the sudden change. It’s what he did. You wanted him so bad but you hated what he could become. You steadied yourself and walked off to a bathroom without saying a word. Half broken hearted half confident that he’ll get you back all Rafe could you was chuckle.

“See you soon baby!”

an: not my typical format but I think my blurbs aren’t bad this way. I kinda like the idea that longer works get their own looks but little blurbs and maybe requests always stick to my blog theme

Tags: @rafestoothbrush @weluvwbb @itsforeverandalwayz @butterfly-ibuki @megiiite @siredbtches @bigenergy777 @aupernatural-teenwolflover @rafegf-real @skywalker0809 @snowtargaryen @kieeslove @leather-n-velvet @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @diasnohibng @slurpdew @alphabetically-deranged @runawayrafetrain @currentresidentinhell @slut-4-rafey @akobx @rafesheaven @laniirackssss @jjmaybankmylovee @slut4you @larema121 @sc05 @k4yr14 @nemesyaaa @littlelamy @inthelibrarybtw

[metalheadmagneto]

hey, person with Narcissistic Personality Disorder here-- i have literally been grabbed by my arms and lead out of a lot of therapist's offices by security for literally no fucking reason besides mentioning my grandiosity before i knew what was wrong with me. "Bad Person Disorder" is a stigma EVEN AMONG PROFESSIONALS, you can see it all the time with Therapists who refused to treat Borderlines and Antisocials on the basis that they are "unstable and dangerous" that gloat about it online on pages that are upheld as "pillars of mental health" online. painting a picture of psychiatry as infallible (which is entirely what this kind of reaction is even if you deny it and try to say otherwise) is inherently dangerous to people with "Bad Person Disorders." NPD's entire section for "how it affects the person-with-NPD negatively" was removed in 1987 with the DSM-III-R (the reasoning was okay, as it was found that it didn't describe all NPD patients, but the fact of the matter is, it hasn't been restored in a tangible way for over 30 years, almost 40) and now people in the modern day genuinely fucking believe Narcissists don't have feelings or deserve help, including Therapists and professionals, and that people-with-NPD deserve to be psychologically tortured for the crime of having an ego or maladaptive behaviors that are not inherently abusive. look up "Narcissistic Abuse" and see just how much people assume person-with-NPD are monsters who deserve to be pushed to suicide, psychologically tortured and humiliated, or murdered for being equated to what is a unique class of Emotional Abusers, and mind you, Abusive Behavior is not unique to NPD patients and can be perpetuated even by people who do not have ANY diagnosable mental health conditions, which is actually quite frequent, moreso than Narcissists, who are a small minority of people and are often prone to being emotionally abused and manipulated as well because their entire sense of self is based on how they feel about themselves via how people perceive them publicly. Even Therapists perpetuate this idea. the stigma for Cluster B Personality disorders is real even in professional spaces except with very certain people who specialize in treating the disorder itself and talk about it with dignity. i am talking about NPD here specifically and how it affects me, because this is the only experience i can truly speak on. one of my therapists called me a "worthless parasite" and berated me for the entire duration of my visit while i was in an abusive relationship. her "cure" for me was "get a job." spoiler alert: it didn't work. i didn't go back. it was such a shameful and traumatic experience for me that i did not tell anyone what she told me until after i turned 25 (she told me this at 18). this kind of rhetoric pushes people into a hole and causes suicides among people with symptoms that make up the modern definitions of Cluster B Personality disorders (especially Black patients like my fiance with BPD who are Treated Worse than me) and this is just cluster b, not to mention everything else considered "severe" like DID or Schizo-spec disorders. i agree with creature-wizard. this is a reductionist take and shows you don't actually understand how psychiatry is used to oppress people with "incorrect behaviors" and how psychiatry is rooted in bigotry from the get-go. (and don't get me started on my how my child psychiatrist had me on such high doses of antipsychotics at 15 that it could have poisoned me, ruined my brain further than it managed to, and killed me. and then refused to switch medications and increased the dosage when i complained about side effects. this wasn't even for Cluster B symptoms-- this was for Schizophrenia. "professionals" hate us just as much as anyone else does. sometimes, if not more. the "science" these disorders are based on are bigoted in nature and used disproportionately to punish people, but especially those who are POC, to demonize them and push them to the fringes.)

When criticizing religion that promotes or claims some form of bigotry as a central belief, it's very important to remember that people who don't want to believe in god but want to be bigots will find new ways to frame and justify their bigotry.

For example, "women are more likely to be possessed by demons" easily turns into "women are more prone to mental illness that compromises their judgment."

"The gods decreed that these people would be our servants forever" easily turns into "these people never evolved intelligence like we did, and they need us to guide them and tell them what to do."

"You'll go to Hell if you do that!" easily turns into "This is what's destroying society! You're betraying everything your ancestors worked hard to create!"

"They worship evil gods! We have to convert them to our good and pure religion!" easily turns into "their culture is primitive and barbaric! We have to free them from these backward beliefs!"

Basically, remember that what you're criticizing is selfish, fearful, and manipulative behavior, which can and will emerge in any context; and that atheism is not a quick fix for systemic issues and deep-seated prejudices.

[shuenkio]

𝐀 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞 | 성훈 ๑⁠˙⁠❥⁠*

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Sunghoon X M!reader

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: If someone ask how your daily life morning routine is like with your boyfriend this would be perfect for the answer, wherein Sunghoon take if everything... everything.

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: Smut fluff. 𝐂𝐰: Curse, 18+

𝐍𝐨𝐧 proof read | 𝐄𝐧𝐠 is not my first.

This is a work of fanfiction, do not throw unnecessary tantrums on this nsfw/sfw blog. ©Shuenkio

𝐀𝐍: I have been long gone since I just finished my finales exam for whole week ... But I'm here now with a bit of spicy ...

A long term relationship meaning how much you can stay together with your partner. The fact one another can understand each other, through thick and thin, through good and bad day it already a miracle and a keeper, who would have thought to throw this gem away.

Sunghoon and you have been boyfriend ever since you both were 18. back when you bump into him accidently and spill ice cream on it, that when how you got contact till now. —>

moving on to the present time, the first thing in the morning of a couple, one would wake up to do the house chores such as making breakfast in the morning, doing laundry, cleaning stuff. But the opposite to everyone thought was you, your friends thinking you would be the one who did all the works however it turns out to be Sunghoon instead. Though he might not seem to be like that, yet he indeed not letting his fragile boyfriend do anything, beside from this he would do whatever to please you, in a good way obviously.

"Yeobo! wake up, breakfast ready" His smooth voice filled the room, spreading from the kitchen as he makes his way to bed to drag you out of the slumber. You stirred, still half asleep since it was holiday.

"Why can't am sleep a lil more babe-" You reply with your horoars tone, slightly stutter and crack as he pulls your hand up, with your face lay pressed on his fit chest. As you feel he was not wearing anything, just his boxer and apron tie around his ripped mascul, which makes your eyes darken, a bad naughty intention. nevertheless, you say nothing, extend your hand to him when Sunghoon already knows what's in your mind. With a huff, he is guiding you down to his large bulge of his boxer, letting your heart feel what you are carving for, toying, feeling, all his size, grithy and inches, while no reaction has fazed him.

You flash him a bright smile like an idiot before he finally pulls you up and take you to the bathroom. He reaches down and slips his strong arms under your slender body, lifting him up with ease. Once both enter the bathroom, Sunghoon slide your pajama pants down, peel it enough to let your manhood out as he asks you to pee, laterally like a father and his son. Which becomes the part of your life and his life, and the way that only him shows you how much you really meant to him to this stage where he takes care of you like a fragile baby.

"Aren't you pee m/n-ah ?" He gazed, spoke upon his lazy tone as he crossed both his arms, waiting for your response, brace himself for what coming out that sweet running mouth.

"pee...pee with me... I feel lonely" You pout, acting cringe to get him do it, though you wanna see if he would really do it, with such a stupid request, even though you seen him naked 24/7. Sunghoon again, just let it flow it's not like he hates it but the amount of naturally unfiltered things from you making him question his own existence, asking himself that is this normal.

"Stupid Kid" Sunghoon left no choice as he shook his head almost amused by this, His boxers dropped to his ankles as his cock hung heavy, warm and thick in his hand. He aimed at the toilet, shaking his head faintly not surprised, just going through the motions. With a small sigh, he pisses his urine out without even informing you, relief himself, which catches in a surprise, results in you anticipating him like you wanted.

"fuck why your urine is orange ?"

"Shut up m/n we're man, and human and I'm not a scientist please"

The apartment was soon filled with the smell of the cooked breakfast, the table is filled with healthy foods that Sunghoon has been prepared for this morning. In order to stay well and good, and for the best for both of them to not catch any sickness of course, the man has thoughts too.

The faint clink of utensils against porcelain. You eat your food in silence, He eats his food in silence however your thoughts were too loud that Sunghoon couldn't take it but to question.

"m/n-ah just say it, I hate this awkwardness"

Your eyes never leave Sunghoon fit after he emerges from the bathroom ever since with a worker top, black tie on, clinging on his body & a pair of white socks— with nothing wrapped around his hip, just his brief underwear. Who wouldn't get turned on with such good views, the fact he was your boyfriend, you can be anything.

"uh nothing, I just enjoy the view— you always look hot" utter, express how you feel about him, answer straight to his question without thinking twice, though there are much more honest answers underneath.

Thirds pov .

"Ah, yes, boss... I'm home right now." Sunghoon spoke with a steady, slightly breathless voice, even as his hips moved against M/n in a slow, relentless rhythm. The soft, wet sound of skin meeting skin echoed through the room, blending with the muffled gasps of his boyfriend beneath him.

His fingers dug harshly into M/n’s hips, holding him in place with an iron grip. There was no escape. Each thrust was deeper, rougher, as if he wanted to leave something behind inside him—something permanent, his fucking seed.

“Huh..? What?... Ah, the reports? Yeah, I looked over them this morning,” he said into the phone, his tone deep, composed, swallowing between sentences like everything was perfectly normal, like he wasn’t completely ruining M/n under the sheets.

M/n bit his lip, face buried in the pillow dampened by tears of overwhelming pleasure. His back trembled with every deep motion, body twitching in surrender to the pressure building inside.

Sunghoon leaned down, breath hot against his ear.

“Keep it down, sweetheart… or do you want them to hear you like this, face down and swallowing my cock like the good cock-slave you are?” he whispered with a wicked smile.

And then he pushed in harder—deeper—his hips snapping forward, drawing a sharp, stifled whimper from M/n that he couldn’t hold back. Sunghoon gritted his teeth, a low growl escaping his throat.

“Apologies… the neighbors have been a bit much lately,” he added coolly into the phone, while one hand moved down to grab his partner ass harder, spreading

one of his cheeks just enough to enjoy the view a little more.

He hung up. Without warning. And then he grabbed him by the hair, yanking his head back.

Sunghoon growled, his hand coming up to wrap around M/n's throat, not squeezing, just holding. Claiming.

"Now you have it, you have me. You have no more excuses. I want to hear how you wanted me destroy you." he rumbled, thrusts never faltering. If anything, they grew harder, more insistent, driven by the need to fill his mate, to breed him, to make him scream.

And he thrust again, faster, wilder. Hitting the same spot over and over, torturing him with the exact rhythm he knew drove him crazy: slow, deep, until he begged. And then accelerate mercilessly.

“Damn whore” he murmured against his neck, biting it,

“You lucky I can handle your worst... ” Sunghoon murmur again before a big tidel wave-like-orgasm hit them both. Explode into a starstruck, and that's how their morning is like everyday—

[huntingcupid]

PEOPLE YOU KNOW — S.L

we used to be close, but people can go from people you know to people you don't and what hurts the most is people can go from people you know to people you don't

⌗ SOPHIA — fem!reader, angst, swearing, vamp!soph, killing, manipulation, biting, guilt, etc...

⌗ SYPNOSIS — your parents always warned you about supernatural beings such as vampires yet what if that very being is the woman you love with all your heart

⌗ CUPID — request by the lovely @mei2yok, here ya go

you were raised in a heavily religious and superstitious family, you'd often sit with your parents as a kid listening to them talk about demons, succubus, and vampire's

it wasn't hard to believe, especially in your small town — seeing your neighbors mysteriously disappear or die with a distinct bite mark on their necks the life sucked out of them, it scared you as a kid even when you grew up

you studied hard, and worked to save money and potentially leave this town — make a new life somewhere safer and better, during your highschool years you met her, you met sophia laforteza

from the well known and problematic family of laforteza — rumors spread around about them being vampire's or related to that somehow yet sophia was different she's sweet and thoughtful very smart too

you'd often lay in a grass field and talk about dreams of leaving the city, promising each other to not leave on another

“no literally, i want to move somewhere like new york, it seems so beautiful in the tv” sophia says her hand on yours as you nod thoughtfully — “me too, i want to feel safe and don't worry about stupid things like vampires” you replied, her hands went stiff, and she bit back a response which you noticed but chose not to pry at, “y/n, are you scared of them?” sophia breaks the silence

for a minute you thought about it, cases flashing in your eyes, are you?, “i don't know soph, i just don't wanna see more people die — especially you” you murmur back, sophia felt guilty, so guilty knowing how much you cared about her and how she's lying to you

“don't worry about me” sophia replies softly, interlocking her fingers with yours, a sense of comfort washes over you with her soft words — “yeah, just don't die” you replied chuckling a bit

the next few weeks the town was eerily quiet — only gossip flew around, sophia seemed sick to, her usually bright and glowing skin now pale and cold, her eyes losing its life, you worry and decide to visit her after school

you walk to her house with some freshly baked cookies and her favorite juice — you went in without knocking, the house was dark and a gust of cold wind met you which sent shivers down your spine, you look around searching for sophia

“soph?” you call out, your voice echoing back — you take off your shoes and walk up to her bedroom, her door slightly ajar, you peek only to feel your heart drop, liza your friend was being held by sophia as her lips attached to her neck sucking the blood out — you drop the plate of cookies making a loud thud, sophia immediately looks up her fangs dripping with liza's blood, her eyes blazing — “fuck!” you scream out scared, you run to the front door only to get pushed down on the ground by sophia

“y/n i can explain!” she stutters, yet you can't look at her, disgust and fear running in your mind, you keep replaying that moment when liza was dying in her arms, “soph! get away from me” you scream back kicking your feet as she struggles to go near you, “you fucking murderer, i can't believe it” you mutter backing away from her, tears now streaming down your face out of guilt that you couldn't help, guilt that you didn't know how much of a monster she was

“y/n you don't fucking get it!, I need her blood, I've been starving! — it would've been you if I didn't control myself!” sophia reasons out pinning your legs down using her arms, you hated how she made you feel how you still felt comfortable in her arms even after what you saw, “soph- get away” you sob, scared

sophia melted feeling awful, she cradles you resting your head on her shoulders as she reassures you, “y/n I'm sorry, my love please understand me” she murmurs into your head kissing the top of it, “w-why?” you stammered, “i can't stop what i am y/n, i tried and tried protecting you — from my family, i knew you cared about me and i care about you too” sophia explains as you start to trust her again, yet that gnawing guilt builds inside you

“how about liza, she had a life — a family” you mutter, “I'm sorry y/n, i'll bury her body later” sophia explains

you snap feeling as though where is the justice where is the moral in that — “fuck no!, you're gonna admit to her murder and fucking beg for forgiveness from her family” you scream, pulling yourself away from the older girl, anger simmering in your veins, “i thought you would understand me” sophia grits, her hands tighten fisting — with an impossible speed she pins you against the wall her hands flying to your neck, “what you're gonna kill me too?!, go fucking ahead” you mutter, fear was still in you yet at this point you didn't care, her fangs sink into your neck, you close your eyes out of agony and pain, you waited for your life to drain away yet nothing happened

you felt lightheaded and that's when you realized she didn't kill you, she turned you into one of them, the hunger she felt was now what you felt too

a week passed, and nothing changes the feeling of betrayal in you, here you stand before liza's family seeing them sob uncontrollably while sophia grips your hands tightly flashing them a fake sympathetic expression

you felt sick, sick to your stomach that your here lying and covering up for sophia — yet through this all you hated that you loved her, hated how you became something you were scared and disgusted of

wc: 1k words, im back haha

[soulsforsales]

You guys can hate me for this but I despise Jason's canon ships. I hate Jason x Rose, I hate Jason x Artemis.

Here's why:

Rose manipulated, used, and betrayed Jason for her father's mission, knowing how much Deathstroke had already taken from him and his family. Knowing how much Jason has already been through. She toyed with him and his feelings.

Maybe she loves him, maybe she never did. Who knows?

And Jason and Artemis... don't even get me started on that. Artemis sees Jason as only her partner; she admits that she kissed him for "comfort," while you could clearly tell that Jason genuinely liked her the whole time.

I hate it because it feels like an indirect message that he cannot be loved unconditionally because he's damaged and traumatized. These ships have this pattern of him being used, overlooked, or just flat out not chosen, which reinforces the belief that he's only worthy of situational, conditional affection. While Jason Todd, for all his mistakes and rough edges, is one of the most loyal, self-sacrificing, and deeply loving characters in the Batfam. And canon just can't stop fucking him up.

I just think Jason deserves a relationship that isn’t based on lies, manipulation, violence, or shared interests. He deserves someone soft, warm, and feminine, fiercely and endearingly. Bcs he does need someone who can put him in his place — but not by making him feel awful or small or weak (like, oh yes, fucking CANON) but instead by letting him be weak and vulnerable not because they want him to be but because that’s what he really needs. He needs someone he can be painfully human with. He doesn't need a partner matching him punch for punch, or trauma for trauma. He needs someone who sees beyond the Red Hood mask and just sees Jason Todd, wounded, broken, bloodied, but real and so perfectly worthy of love and good things.

I am not coming at anyone who loves these ships. That's your opinion, this is mine. Simple as that!

[lvrsturniolo]

sleep paralysis -c.s

(Mother’s Day special)

sorry for this chat 😬😬 happy Mother’s Day tho !

divider by @bernardsbendystraws

warnings; mentions of death. angst. depression. sleep paralysis. loss of a loved one.

synopsis; it’s Chris and your daughters first Mother’s Day without you.

It’s early.

The kind of early where everything is blue-tinted and quiet, except for the soft breathing of a child tucked into the crook of his arm. Chris doesn’t remember when they fell asleep on the couch, every night’s just been blending together.

Now, he can’t move. Not because he doesn’t want to wake her. Not because the weight of her tiny body is too much.

Because he physically can’t.

Sleep paralysis. He knows what it is. He’s had it non stop since you’ve been gone. He struggled with it since he was a teenager, but he soon found the only thing that could successfully tear him from it; you. But you were gone. You weren’t there to protect him anymore.

This time is different, though. This time, he doesn’t feel the usual fear or pressure. This time, he feels… you.

The air shifts.

It smells like your shampoo—the lavender one he could never find in stores after you passed. The one you kept buying in bulk online because it “made you feel soft.”

He swears he can feel the warmth of your hair brushing his jaw. Like you’re leaning over him. Like you’re right there.

And it fucking wrecks him.

He tries to cry, but his body is frozen. Tries to turn, tries to see you, but nothing works. His lips twitch with the effort.

He felt so close to you. But he couldn’t see you. His body wouldn’t let him see you. But, even if it were to, he knows it wouldn’t be real. Because you’re gone. He carried your casket. Then he watched it be lowered into the ground, six feet under. It still haunts him. He can still feel the sadness that weighed down the cemetery that day. The weight that follows him everywhere he goes, knowing that he’ll never see you again.

When he finally jolts awake—body free, lungs full—he gasps so loudly it wakes her. His daughter lifts her head, sleepy eyes blinking, curls a mess.

“Daddy?” she mumbles.

Chris swallows. “Hey, baby. Sorry. Daddy just had a dream.”

She sits up, rubbing her eyes. “Did you dream about Mommy again?”

He nods. “Yeah, I did.”

There’s a silence between them. The kind that used to live in hospital rooms and funeral homes. He hates that she knows how to carry silence like that.

“Today is the day for mommies,” she whispers.

This is their first Mother’s Day without you to celebrate. The first time they didn’t go out and shop all day to put together the first surprise for you. Because you were dead. Although Mila was only 5, she too felt the weight that Chris did. Because his wife was gone, but so was her mommy.

“I know,” he says, voice cracking.

Chris stands, carries her to the kitchen. He makes the pancakes from the recipe you wrote down on a napkin one sleepy Sunday morning. He lets her pour the sprinkles into the batter the way you used to.

“Daddy?” The small girl asks softly from across the table. “Yes baby?” He says back, voice holding something deep, too deep for the girl to understand yet.

“Can we go bring flowers to mommy’s rock?” She says, looking at him with her beautiful eyes. Your eyes.

“Of course, sweet girl. Let’s go get your coat on okay?”

At the cemetery, his daughter sets the flowers down carefully. Chris kneels beside her, one hand on her back, the other clenched around the letter he wrote and almost didn’t bring.

“I swear I could’ve felt you this morning. Right there beside me. And it killed me and saved me at the same time. Happy Mother’s Day sweetheart, I miss you more and more every day I wake up and every night I go to sleep. I hope you’re feeling okay, and I cannot wait until the day I’m with you again. Until then, love.”

He doesn’t read it aloud.

Instead, he watches their daughter pick a dandelion and hold it up to the sky.

“Mommy likes these,” she says.

“Yeah, baby. She really did.” He finally allows a single tear to fall, not being able to hold it together anymore.

And for a second, in the warmth of the spring wind, in the sunlight that hits her hair just like yours—he swears he sees you.

Smiling. Watching. Loving them from somewhere just out of reach.

God, he wishes this was just sleep paralysis. A dark nightmare that you’d shake him awake from and hold him until his breath was once again steadied. But it’s not. And it never will be.

[callofdoobie420]

AN TOAST TO WATCHING IT BURN

Rafe x pogue!reader (also kinda x sofia)

You had overheard something — a conversation you know wasn’t meant for your ears. It wasn’t your fault though! You had just been doing your job.

Out at the docks, doing a last walk through before locking up. As a Pogue there aren’t too many job opportunities in Kildare, and you really didn’t want to end up at the wreck with Kie. No matter how many times she had offered.

The water was like a second home to you, and working at the yacht club just seemed to make sense. It just also meant sucking up to annoying Kooks. The tips may be nice but it was slowly eating away at your soul. Especially when people like Rafe Cameron were around.

He was a frequent pain in your ass, and always out here with Topper and Kelce causing problems. Though you also couldn’t deny the more lust filled glances you had thrown his way (you sure as hell would try).

So when you heard murmurs coming from one of the yachts, and Rafe’s name mentioned you couldn’t help yourself. Quietly stepping near the boat and moving closer to the voices.

“I’m not asking you to do anything illegal, not even unethical,” you hear an unfamiliar voice say, “you’re just helping me, help Rafe make a good decision.”

“How much?” You strain to hear, that voice. That sounded familiar.

“Twenty-five dear, no questions asked, the deal happens you get the money.”

“Hollis,” the familiar voice clarifies who the other is, “this is a swindle isn’t it, Rafes the mark-?”

Nothing else filters to you once you hear that. Rafe? That voice, that familiar voice — Sofia. You scramble away from the boat carefully avoiding the creaky boards.

Cursing internally, you pull out your phone and shoot a text to the one person you thought you’d never speak to. And that you know you shouldn't be speaking to.

Hey. I’m tired of everyone lying to you and using you. Ask Sofia where she was tonight.

Clicking so your phone locks, you tossed it in your purse heading for your bike. Knowing you just lit a match and dropped it on a puddle of gasoline. But you meant what you said.

While Rafe was a major pain in your ass, he was yours. And you were getting sick and tired of seeing people abuse what was yours. Though you two have hated each other since elementary school, somewhere along the way something else had formed.

It was rough and ugly. But you would be damned if Sofia got to reap all the benefits now that Rafe was finally trying to be better.

He could be better with you.

You would accept him, but push him to thrive as who he is — not smother it like Sofia. She didn’t see his raw potential. But you did. And now, you’d be sure Rafe saw yours.

He’d had his fun. He’d tried it with the sweet little Pogue. Now it’s time to try it with the one who could kick his ass.

Feeling your phone buzz, you stop your bike to read the message.

You better not be fucking with me Maybank.

Giggling to yourself as you thought, not fucking with you...yet. Instead sending him a serious message.

I told you...tired of you being used. Now delete those texts, there cant be proof I was nice to you.

Across town, Rafe couldn't help the small smirk that spread over his lips at the text you sent. He would be lying if he said he hadn't ever thought of you that way — in all ways. But you were a Pogue...and a Maybank at that. He couldn't ever allow himself to stoop that low.

But here you were reaching out a potential olive branch of epic proportions. You didn't have to warn him, but you had. Even said that you didn't like people using him.

He wasn't used to someone thinking of him like that. Caring about what happened to him. He just shook his head, not wanting to get a headache thinking about this.

I'll think about it ;) thanks for the tip Maybank.

You simply roll your eyes at his response. Continuing on your way home content with the havoc this would cause. You hadn't ever thought you were better than Sofia, no...just better for Rafe.

(Just dipping my toe into the obx world. Kinda cant stop thinking about Rafe needing someone that challenges him...)

[elliespassagerprincess]

Ellie Williams Masterlist

main masterlist

about me!

Stories˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆

- girlfriend: In a broken world, Ellie Williams becomes the one constant — protective, intense, and impossible to ignore. Their bond is complicated, but it’s all they have.

- drunk texting: After a night of drinking, a risky text is sent to Ellie — one that unravels buried feelings and turns their dynamic upside down.

- high enough: in which you wanted her

- your best friend: in which you wished she wasn't dating your best friend

- knee deep: in which ellie wanted you back

- sports car: in which she took you for a ride

- beneath the mask: in which she saved you

- one step forward, three steps back: In which your relationship always put you 3 steps back

- crimson days: in which she needed comfort

- quiet room: in which you needed comfort

- the cut that always bleeds: in which she left you bleeding

- Split ends: in which you needed help

- drunk words, sober eyes: in which you confessed

- planets: in which you went on a date

- latch: in which you were trapped

- frostbite: in which you shared a special moment with her

- losing sleep: in which you hated her

- dark red: in which she wanted you to herself

- wash day: in which she helps you with your hair

- rose: in which she cant forget you

- comfort: in which she helped you

- bubblegum: in which you fell in love

- I was all over her: in which she wanted to be all over you

- do you still dream of me?: In which you still dream about her

- laundry: In which you didn't fold the laundry

- bad dog: in which you treated her like a bad dog

- pretty girl: in which she showed her girl how pretty she really is

- mary (angst edition): in which you left her to rot

- things to do: In which they got their happily ever after

- satisfied: in which you were the perfect housewife

- in my feelings (angst edition): In which you fell for a loser

- dye it red: In which you dyed your hair red

- ultraviolence: In which she became the person, you've always wanted

- karma: In which you were her downfall

- twilight: In which you couldn't win Ellie's heart

- window: In which Ellie Williams made a big mistake

- in my feelings: In which you showed a loser, a great time

- mary (mental illness edition): In which Ellie wrote you a song.

- brooklyn baby: In which you were dating the world-famous Ellie Williams

- laugh it off: In which Ellie tries to fix your relationship after she was unfaithful

- cool about it: if Ellie couldn't have you, she'd make sure no one else ever will.

- she calls me daddy: You might be engaged but you still always go back to Ellie

- petals on the moon: In which Ellie regrets her decision

- night shift: In which you were the other women

- everybody here wants you: In which you fell in love with someone you couldn't have

- emily i'm sorry: In which Ellie is fucking crazy

- limit to your love: In which you got your heart broken

- I'm not a mountain: In which Ellie makes stupid decisions

- one night only: Ellie wanted needed to see you, but little did she know the one night she wanted to spend with you, would be her final night

- fake it: You and Ellie reminisce on how the two of you got together

- together: Your relationship was toxic, you both knew this... but yet both of you couldn't stay away from each other

- in hell: in which ellie had a taste of what hell felt like

- waste my time: Ellie questions if you really love her or if you were just using her to clean up your mess

- poision: Ellie knows your relationship is toxic, but she can’t help but go back to you.

- nobody; Ellie's biggest fear becomes a reality...

- is there someone else? All Ellie wanted was for you to forgive her

- infatuated: In which Ellie’s “small crush” turned into an obsession

- all the girls you've loved before: Two lost girls, finally found what they've been looking for in each other

- forever: What’s the point of living, if you aren’t by her side?

- moonlight : In which ellie gets high with her lover

series˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆

scream for me: In which not killing the pretty girl was the best mistake she ever made

part 1 part 2 part 3

Therefore, you and me: All you needed was Ellie

part 1 part 2 part 3

Her Sweet girl: in which you had enough

part 1 part 2

Loser Ellie

part 1 part 2

Professor Ellie

professor ellie / first time / nsfw headcannons / more headcannons

starting a life together / getting married / having a baby / grading

drabbles, hcs and short stories˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆

ellie taking care of sick reader (hcs)

toxic ellie (hcs)

douchebag ellie (hcs)

ellie warming you up (ss)

ellie saying you're a piece of art (ss)

[sweetiechichi]

...introducing babydoll!reader ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

babydoll!reader ♡ ⟶ ୭🧷✧˚. ᵎᵎ 🎀 she smells like strawberry shampoo and secrets you’re not ready to hear ⟶ “you’re bleeding,” she says, tilting her head, voice syrupy. “do you want me to kiss it better?”

babydoll!reader walks like she’s always on the edge of a dream. she lives in a cozy, little room at the top of the castle tower filled with sun-faded lace, frilly bed sheets, and a pink stuffed bunny with one ear half-ripped off (his name is mr. sunday, and she will cry if anyone calls him creepy). her mirror has lipstick kisses along the edge, each one sealed with a wish. ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

what makes her lovely...ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐

♡ can’t stop twirling her hair around her manicured fingers when she’s nervous (or when mattheo’s staring too hard again). ♡ writes her name with little hearts over the “i”s and dots her love notes in glitter gel pen like it’s a spell. ♡ is constantly found in oversized nightgowns, fuzzy socks, or little lacy camisoles layered under too-big cardigans she “borrowed” from mattheo. ♡ keeps her record player spinning sad old french love songs while she stares out the window with a cigarette, waiting for someone who probably won’t come. (mattheo always does.) ♡ always looks like she’s been crying, but it's in a romantic, porcelain doll way. she cries at poetry. she cries when people are mean. she cries when mattheo calls her “dollface” in his sharp-soft voice.

how she feels... she’s a: ♡ crybaby in the best way. tears pool at the corners of her eyes when she’s overwhelmed, but she’ll never raise her voice. she’ll just pout and sniff and make everyone feel horrible. ♡ hopeless romantic who dreams of being kissed in the rain or carried through a thunderstorm. has a whole pinterest board of dramatic scenarios where mattheo saves her. he doesn’t know yet. ♡ soft manipulator, but unintentionally. she bats her lashes and frowns, and somehow the boys are running to get her a blanket and kiss her forehead before she even opens her mouth.

the pretty things...

glossy lips. baby pink lace. mary--janes and garter socks. blush on her nose. stuffed animals on her bed. rhinestone hair clips. a pearl choker. her voice is breathy and gentle, so much so that mattheo sometimes grabs her chin and tells her to “use your big girl voice, baby.” she's always cold, always bundled in someone else's jacket, and always clutching a hot drink she forgets to finish.

him & her – he calls her “baby” or “angel” when he’s annoyed with her, but “babydoll” when he’s desperate to keep her. – he brushes her hair for her when she’s too sleepy. once he tried to braid it, and she nearly cried at how awful it was, but she kept it in all day. – he hates seeing her cry, even if it’s over something small. he’ll clench his jaw, mutter "fuck," and immediately start pulling her onto his lap, mumbling “what happened, love?” – he thinks she’s fragile, porcelain, breakable. and he wants to be the one who protects her even though he knows he’s the one she should fear. – he lets her paint his nails baby pink and then goes to class with his hand around her waist like “what the fuck are you looking at?”

ପ꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ଓ 🌸🤍

“he’s so mean to everyone. but he kissed the top of my head and told me i was his soft place to fall. so i think he’s good. just not for anyone else.” -- babydoll's diary ༝༚༝༚

[4drianaaaa]

“i think i like u”

Hamzahthefantastic x influencerreader! ⚠: fluff, male erection, slightly suggestive, & smoking wrd count: 1.9k

part 3 | navi

-

yourusername

: sandwich, matcha, and @heavn?....

_

hamzahthefantastic: girlll got me nervous and shi 😅 ↳ yourusername: shhh, don't rat yourself out.

user69: YES HEAVN COLLAB!!! ↳ heavn: would have never saw it coming...(we did) ↳ hamzahthefantastic: me neither

mandys_iphone: boyfriend im nervous

clairedrakee: girlll marry meeeeewewww

user223432: again with this mysterious boy ↳ yourusername: can't get enough of him, truly 😔

-

You woke up to your phone's alarm going off right next to your ear. You groaned looking for the phone next to you as you read the time, 10:40 a.m. . A while ago you were sent an email from 'heavn' by Marc Jacobs about a shoot they wanted you for. You also found out Hamzah was also sent an email . With that you were 100% going to do it.

You yawned one last time and shot up from your bed as you looked at the view from your huge balcony. You fixed your bed, used the bathroom, and took a shower. The cold water cooled your nerves down a little. Regardless being a model, you still got very anxious during the shoots. You hoped out the shower scrubbing your worries away and applied a soft makeup look. You added lip liner and blow dried your hair. You gave your face a couple more touches after slipping on to some jeans and a small white tank. You grabbed your bag and made your way out the door. Suddenly you got a notification from the one and only, Hamzah.

Hamzah -> Got you matchaaaa 😆😻

You hated how much he knew you already. You drove yourself to Martin and Hamzah's studio which was a couple minutes away. You nervously grabbed your bag from the passengers as you walked to the entrance of the huge building. As you were walking to the door you felt a pair of hands grab your shoulders as you whipped your head back as quick as lighting. "Fuck! Hamzah!" You yelled slightly pushing him as he giggled. You crossed your arms laughing with him too. "Just thought you may have needed someone to wake you up, After you." He said swinging the door open for you. You walked into the cold hallways of the building making it to the third floor.

"Taa-daa! Welcome to the Slushynoobz office! Aka, my second home!" He grinned as you walked into a huge office with a lot of space and random displays everywhere. He closed the door behind you giving you your matcha he had bought you. "Aww thanks!" You gave him a quick side hug as he waved his hands towards their green screen. You followed behind him as you saw Martin, Chase, and a couple of their other assistants.

"Hello everyone!" You waved as you walked up to everyone individually giving everyone hugs. "Hello, I'm Liam. I'm with Heaven and I'll be shooting you and Hamzah today!" A guy smiled with a heavy camera in his hand. "Perfect! Y/n, nice to meet you!" You grinned sitting down on the couch next to Hamzah.

"Well let's get started! Hamzah and Y/n, here are the patches for you two." He handed a small starface compacts to you and Hamzah, "Feel free to just apply them anywhere on your face and let me know when you two are ready!" You opened the compact mirror and saw the many cool deigns on each sticker.

"Ooo, I want this one. I just don't know where to put it!" he shoved a heart sticker in your face, "Okay, okay! let me see!" you giggled as you took it from his hands. He was face to face with you as you slowly felt him get closer to you. You analyzed his whole face. The closest you've been. You looked at his smooth lips, his neat eyebrows, and his perfect blemish's around his cheeks. You tried your hardest not to look into his deep brown eyes knowing you'd get lost in them. He slowly smiled softly looking all over face too.

Chase, the person who records 90% of the behind the scene's captured the two of you giggling in each others faces. He giggled behind the camera.

"Okay, here..." You smiled applying the sticker on the apple of his cheek. "Okay do me now!" You handed him a star sticker. Your face a couple inches from his. He hummed scanning through your face. He'd do so for hours. He couldn't help getting a little red. He took his hand putting your hair behind your ear giving him more exposure. "Uhh, there!" He hesitated pressing against your forehead. You giggled as his lips curled. You both decided to have matching stickers in the same place right under your eyes.

"Alright I'm done here" you said closing your compact mirror, "Same" Hamzah followed you to the green screen. You hoped in front of the green screen first as you confidently looked straight into the camera. You striked many silly poses just for fun as you were able to catch Hamzah through the corner of your eye. Eyes glued to you. You still had sudden thought crash into your mind, what if he was just giving you the same energy back and doesn't actually like you? Ouch. You were embarrassed to even admit to yourself you do like him.

"So glad we got you, y/n." Liam clicked the camera as you smiled. You blew a kiss to the camera as you giggled.

"perfect! Your so good y/n, I'll have you switch out with Hamzah now!" Liam gave you a quick smirk as he held his thumb up to you as you nodded. You switched out with Hamzah as he was in front of the green screen now. His hands behind his back nervously looking into the camera.

"You guys did great! Thank you so much again!" Liam said reaching for a hug, "Thank you!" You replied patting his back softly, "An honor by the way, I've seen your shoot for Margiela and it was dope" he smiled as he dabbed up Hamzah not taking his eyes off you. Hamzah grew a growing jealousy in his head as he noticed how much he had been complimenting you. Saying how 'good you were'? Liam packed up as he was now out the door. You plopped onto the couch as Hamzah followed you. "An honor?" Hamzah tsk'd as you furrowed your eyebrows at you. "What?" You laughed setting your drink down, "Was I not good enough!? Not a single word came out of his mouth when I was up there! Oh but when he was taking pictures of you he was saying all this stuff! God does that guy not have any respect or equality!?" Hamzah said sassy. "Maybe because he liked y/n more than you Hamzah...?" Chase added. "He was kissing your feet dude! He wanted somethin'!" Hamzah looked towards you as you smirked in response. "Your Jealous! Hamzah's Jelly!" You teased as Chase laughed. "Dude! I'm not!" Hamzah fought in response "It's just...Ugh!" Hamzah laughed to cover his jealousy. "It's okay Hamzah, we already know!" Chase instigated.

You hung out with Chase, Martin, and Hamzah until night at their office talking about future Collab's or brainstorming in general. You laid beside Hamzah leaning towards him as the warm laptop sat on his lap. He scrolled through emails as he noticed you dozing off. He looked towards you as he shook your thigh, "You alright?" He questioned as you nodded back, "Just tired." You sat up straight. Hamzah's face seemed like if a bulb went off in his head as he shut the laptop closed. "you smoke?" He questioned as you nodded. "I got a pre-roll in my car. Wanna?" He said placing the laptop on the small table as you grinned and smiled. "My place." You said lowly as he turned to stone.

You both drove to your place as you said your 'Goodbye's' to everyone in the office. His car parked right next to your extra parking place as you shut the car door. He pulled out the small bag he had the pre-roll in, "Hamzah, I said my place. MY place." You tilted your head towards the elevator. "Uh, you sure?" He stuffed the bag into his pocket as you grabbed his hand dragging him to the elevator. You creaked open your door as all the lights were off except the small lamp in your living room and the huge windows seeping in the busy lights of Toronto into your apartment. You kicked your shoes off as you Hamzah did too. "I have a balcony, we can go there! Or unless you prefer inside?" You said pulling a hoodie over your head as he pointed to the Balcony.

The lighter brightened his face as he sparked up the blunt. He pressed gently on an ash tray you had between the two chairs you had outside your balcony. "So, you live by yourself?" He questioned lowly blowing a cloud of smoke from his mouth. "Mhm, I prefer It like this." You grabbed the blunt from in between his fingers. His mind was quickly sent into a small blur as he laid back. Although the blunt had the strongest strand, he still was bugged by the Liam guy. "Do they always do that?" he hummed looking towards you as you lightly pressed the blunt against your chair passing it to him. "Do what?" you questioned as he huffed, "D'they always bother you like that. Like Liam?" He said lowly as you giggled. "It was way worse In Cali. That's why I moved here, hey at least he was tame. I've heard worse." You looked at Hamzah who's eyes were glued to you. "I got a little carried away, sorry" he licked his lips as you chuckled, "It's okay." You replied. Smoke blew from each others mouths for about 30 more minutes as you both went inside.

"fuck, I should have let you know..." Hamzah sighed as you laughed from how high the two of you were. "You need to stop apologizing so much Hamzah" You giggled as he chuckled smirking, "I just get nervous..." He said sparking the blunt out as you raised your eyebrow. "Nervous?" You questioned as he felt himself get red. "Yeah.." He admitted as he placed the blunt back into the bag. He avoided looking at you for now. You sat next to him on the couch. You looked at his red, glossy eyes as he looked at yours. His eyes traced down to your lips. He could die. Your beauty marks that scattered all over your face. "I'm starting to think it's not the weed that gets you nervous..." You said softly as you placed your legs on top of his lap as his hand was quick to lay on top of them. His face grew red as you felt his heat from his body radiate to his. Licking his lips on last time as he tilted his head softly placing your lips on yours. His hands crawling to your waist as you pushed harder to the kiss. Your hand seeped to the back of his curls, untangling them softly. “Do…I make you nervous?” You hummed in between kisses. His tongue seeped into your mouth as he restrained him self from you. His lips parted suddenly from yours as his eyes were wide open. His lips were a glossy pink from your lip gloss. "Hamzah your lips!" You laughed as he was flustered from what just happened. His palm dragged across his lips as a streak of glittery gloss was streaked onto his hand. "Y/n!" He groaned, "Where's your bathroom?" He questioned as he lifted your legs off him lightly as you pointed across the living room. He slammed the door as he felt the growing pain in between his legs. His jeans were definitely not doing him justice. He washed your lip gloss off his lips as pulled his hoodie down. He didn't know how he'd walk out like this.

-

adri's note: yes you guys are able to throw tomato's at me for lying to yall </3. For the record, I come here for fun and on my free time 😔