#i swear to gods if one of them comes talking to me later on like nothing happened i WILL throw knives (mostly metaphorically)

[morrigan-sims]

oc anon my alias can just be 🐵 cus my username base off that lmao. i got some notes duh, favourite oc apperance wise, is 100% minodora or havoc!!! i love their character design and colour palette!! obviously i love rook but ill skip him just cus ive asked about him before. story wise i think carrion and avra!! love her bullet notes!

ANONNNNN, I LOVE YOUUUUU.

Yes, Minodora is probably my "prettiest" dnd OC. I love her visual design SO much. Sadly she was only for a oneshot, but I should absolutely revive her and use her for a campaign. Honestly she'd make a really good Eloquence Bard, even though that's not what she is right now. (Since yk, raised at court and all that.)

I'm glad you really like Havoc!!! They're one of my more "basic" OCs when it comes to visual design, but I am an absolute SUCKER for tieflings and I like the color red. (If you can't tell by my blog theme lmao.) I really would love to play them in a real campaign someday, although they don't have ANY backstory to speak of.

I'm really really really really really glad you like Carrion and Avra!!! They're two of the PCs I'm playing right now, and I'm absurdly attached to both of them.

I ended up dropping a ton of Avra and Carrion lore under the cut, plus a couple bonus lighthearted/silly stories from Rook's campaign (that I had nothing to do with, lmao), because Avra and Carrion's shit is SAD.

Fun bonus fact about Avra: The quote on her character page ("some things should just stay dead") was said to the party cleric about his actual literal daughter. YEAH. IT WAS BAD. Like, excuse me, but hypocrite much???? (Tbf, she does have some doubts about her own resurrection, which is something that I'll be leaning into again now that the DM adjusted how he's playing the Raven Queen. But STILL.) I love her, she's so messy.

She's also a werewolf because during her first ever session she failed a con save after getting bitten by a wolf (this is Curse of Strahd, they can ALL make you werewolves, lmao) with a Nat 1. (Her first ever roll was also a nat 1. On a fucking stealth check of all things. It was SO embarrassing.) Later, the druid rolled a nat 2 on a check to help her, then she rolled a nat 1 on a wisdom save so she transformed and started attacking the party. They knocked her down to 0hp, but then these idiots (affectionate) HEALED HER. WHILE SHE WAS STILL A WEREWOLF. So she just got up and started attacking them again!!! It ended VERY BADLY, and we are NOT on good terms with the hags whose house we were in. (Continually blowing them off and refusing to do the job they ordered us to do for days/weeks since then certainly hasn't helped, and I can't wait for it to bite us in the ass soon.)

On top of being a werewolf, she also almost became a vampire because she got brought to zero hp by one of those, but the druid used his "birthday point" (which we can use to break the rules) to undo that and just THROW the vampire into the woods before he could bite me. So that's nice. I really didn't want to be a vampire. We already have one vampire in the party and being a vampire AND a werewolf just seems unnecessary, lmao.

As for Carrion, well, there's MOUNTAINS of lore for him. During his first ever session he took 2nd watch, which happened to be when one of the people staying at our campfire transformed into a Delirium-fueled monster and attacked. He also transformed (that's what his rage is) and fought back. But when the party woke up they saw TWO delirium monsters fighting. And since they didn't know about Carrion's transformation, they attacked him too. (I gave them the OK for it, and I actually took 2nd watch on purpose bc I was hoping for this, lmao.) The only actual HP damage he took was actually from the warlock (Valeska)'s Eldritch Blast. (Since his shifter thing and his rage are one single combined bonus action he had temp hp which was all the monster got to hit at.)

After the fight he was expecting the rest of the party to try and kill him, but Valeska just started peppering him with questions and it was so unexpected that he stopped panicking and answered. A few days later, they were sitting in their shitty rented tiny house while the paladin was at the temple, and Valeska asked Carrion if he was afraid of his own transformations. He said no, he was afraid of other people's reactions to him. (Valid given that the last time people found out about them they left him for dead...)

And Valeska asked him if he wasn't afraid of the shifts, why did he call himself a monster. He replied "Because no one has ever called me anything different." And there was a long silence, and Carrion thought he had said too much so he just gruffly and awkwardly said "Goodnight, Valeska" and rolled over to go to bed.

And she says "Carrion?"

His reply (sounding annoying) is "What do you want, Valeska?"

And then. This 5'-nonthing, barely-an-adult, has less than no social skills girl says: "Nothing, just saying your name. See? I called you something other than a monster."

WHEN I TELL YOU I LOST MY SHIT!!!!!

Me and Valeska's player are now both absolutely FURIOUS with ourselves, because we will never, ever, ever be able to top that, and that was fucking SESSION ONE!!!!!!! We're both in agony over it.

Okay, we've had enough sad. I'll end with a silly dnd story. One of the funniest things that's ever been said in any dnd game I've ever played in was when the druid in Rook's party (WHO WORKS FOR THE GOVERNMENT OF THE BLACK DESERT KINGDOM), said "The Black Desert kind of sucks if you like the ocean. Actually, the Black Desert just kind of sucks in general."

I was in TEARS over that one. Like, buddy, you live here??? And are a relatively important member of the government?????

That player is also responsible for the funniest thing that has ever been said about Rook in-character. We were walking through the city and we somehow got wind that Captain Wolf was walking towards us (she was looking for the bard, bc he and the wizard used to be really close with her and she was worried about him bc we had just rescued him from being kidnapped by his bosses). So Rook and half of the party take off fucking SPRINTING to get away, leaving only the bard, the wizard, and the druid behind.

Conversation is going fine until Wolf asks about Rook. Party scrambles to come up with something. The bard, obviously, has good Charisma. But hilariously, his player is a TERRIBLE liar. He spits out something vaguely plausible, but fails his deception check miserably. It's now the druid's turn to try. He has like, a +2 to his check (as opposed to the bard's +10 or something). He says "Yeah, we don't work with Rook anymore. He lies too much."

I had to mute myself because I was cackling too loudly, because not only is this hilariously accurate, the druid (both as a player and as a character) has only been back with the party for ONE DAY (2.5 sessions) after being gone for months. But this is the first thing that pops into his head. (In his defense, not only is it accurate, but one of the first things he saw the party do was lecture the shit out of Rook because they finally found out about the demon curse he'd been hiding for weeks.)

Wolf rolls insight and believes that Rook isn't with the party, but doesn't believe they left him in the other city. She asks again. Now it's the wizard's turn. The wizard has -1 charisma, and honestly acts like he has a -3 (we love him, though, it's okay).

He says that Rook did come back to the Black Desert Kingdom with the others, but separated after that, and that his parting wish was that they not tell Wolf he's still in the city. Okay, that's actually a really good lie!!! (It should be, I helped with it!!)

Wizard rolls, gets like, a 12. Bad, but pretty good for the wizard. We're all biting our nails bc we don't know Wolf's insight mod, but we know it's GOOD. DM rolls. He starts laughing. We're all SO TENSE. He says "she rolled a two". We all start laughing and cheering.

(I then had to roll an acrobatics check to see if I'd made it far enough away bc she had her navigator cast Locate Person for Rook. I rolled a 28 and was fine.)

[thedepthsofhell]

my friends are now directly ignoring me <3 before it was just the group chat now is private messages too im so fucking happy i could tear someone's head off with just my teeth :3 i think i might commit their murders

[rafes-slut]

You send your best friend nudes on aciddent

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x reader (Best Friends)

Summary: you wanted ro send nudes to guy you were talking to and without even realizing you sended them to rafe. He shows up at your house and he fucks you pretty

Warnings:(Explicit sexual content (18+), Rough, raw, and unprotected sex, Best friends-to-lovers tension, Possessiveness/jealousy, Strong language, Slight dominance themes, Mentions of nudes/sexting, Brief edging/denial)

-------------------------------------------------------

Your house was too quiet. Too empty. The kind of silence that made you restless, forcing you to find something—anything—to keep yourself occupied.

You had already scrolled through every possible social media feed, tried binge-watching a show, and even considered taking a nap, but nothing seemed to cure the boredom eating at you. The guy you’d been talking to—the one you had a… thing with—hadn't texted you all day, and for some reason, that only annoyed you more.

With a sigh, you plopped onto your bed, staring at the ceiling before an idea popped into your head. A reckless, stupid idea. But an exciting one.

Grabbing your phone, you opened the camera app, biting your lip as you hesitated. Then, without thinking too hard about it, you started posing, taking pictures of yourself—fully naked.

The longer you did it, the more confident you became, experimenting with angles, capturing the way the dim lighting cast shadows over your skin. By the time you finished, you were beyond pleased with how good you looked.

Your finger hovered over the screen as you scrolled through the pictures, feeling the rush of power that came with it. Maybe if you sent them to him—the guy you’d been talking to—he’d finally give you the attention you deserved.

Without another thought, you selected a few of your best shots and hit send.

The moment was thrilling. You smirked to yourself, placing your phone aside as you basked in the satisfaction of it all. You left your phone unattended for a while, assuming he’d take his time responding, so you didn’t bother checking right away.

It wasn’t until an hour later, when you absentmindedly picked up your phone to see if he had replied, that your stomach dropped.

36 new messages.

But they weren’t from him.

They were from Rafe.

Your heart stopped. Your entire body froze as dread crept up your spine. Confusion clouded your mind until you clicked on his name, your blood running cold as you read the first message.

Rafe: Tell me you didn’t just send that to me.

Your breath hitched. Your pulse pounded in your ears as you scrolled.

Rafe: Are you serious right now?

Rafe: Fucking answer me.

Rafe: Jesus Christ, what the fuck?

Rafe: Are you out of your mind?

Panic overtook your senses as you finally understood what had happened. Your fingers shook as you scrolled up, only to confirm your worst nightmare.

You hadn’t sent those pictures to the guy you’d been talking to.

You had sent them to Rafe.

Your best friend.

The same Rafe who had seen you at your worst, who had been there through everything, who—until now—had never seen you like that.

You felt sick.

Rafe: I swear to fucking God, tell me that was a mistake.

Rafe: Are you ignoring me on purpose?

Rafe: Do you even realize what you just did?

You stared at the messages, paralyzed with horror, your mind racing with what to do. There was no taking it back. No pretending it never happened.

Your phone buzzed again, and another text popped up.

Rafe: I’m coming over.

Your stomach flipped.

Oh. Fuck.

You barely had time to process the messages before loud, impatient knocking shook your front door. Your heart jumped into your throat.

Shit.

Rafe was already here.

Panic surged through you as you scrambled off your bed. You weren’t even dressed—still completely bare from your little photoshoot. With no time to properly throw on clothes, you grabbed the first thing within reach—an oversized shirt that smelled faintly of cologne. Rafe’s cologne. It was probably his shirt, one he had left behind on one of the countless nights he crashed at your place.

You barely managed to pull it over your head, the hem brushing mid-thigh, before the knocking got louder.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

"Open the damn door."

His voice was sharp, edged with something you couldn’t quite place—urgency, frustration… something more.

Taking a deep breath, you smoothed out the shirt, schooling your expression into something nonchalant. Like you didn’t just send your best friend a full spread of naked pictures. Like you weren’t freaking the fuck out inside.

You swung the door open, greeting him with a bright, innocent smile. "Hey, Rafe."

His eyes flickered over you immediately, scanning your barely covered frame. His jaw clenched, nostrils flaring. "You’re fucking joking."

You tilted your head, feigning confusion. "About what?"

Rafe ran a hand through his hair, exhaling a sharp breath before stepping inside, shutting the door behind him with more force than necessary. "Don't do that. Don't act like you didn't just—" He stopped himself, his tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek as his eyes dragged down your body again, lingering on your bare legs.

You crossed your arms, biting back a smirk. "Didn't just what?"

His jaw ticked. "Send me those pictures."

You shrugged. "It was an accident."

His blue eyes snapped to yours, dark and dangerous. "An accident?" He took a step closer, forcing you back slightly. "Tell me, how exactly do you 'accidentally' send someone half a dozen nude pictures?"

You swallowed hard, nerves creeping up your spine, but you refused to back down. You weren’t about to let him see how flustered you were. "I meant to send them to someone else."

His expression darkened, something flickering behind his eyes at your words. His voice dropped, lower, rougher. "Yeah? Who?"

Your lips parted, but no words came out. You weren’t sure why, but suddenly, saying his name—the guy you’d been talking to—felt wrong. The way Rafe was looking at you, staring through you like he was barely holding himself together, made your stomach twist in a way you weren’t prepared for.

His fingers twitched at his side. "Who were they meant for?"

You hesitated. "It doesn’t matter."

"Like hell it doesn’t," Rafe snapped, stepping in again, this time leaving no space between you. Your breath hitched. You could feel the heat radiating off him, his chest barely brushing yours. His gaze flicked to your lips for a fraction of a second before locking onto your eyes again. "You were really about to send those to some other guy?"

Your mouth felt dry. You blinked up at him, struggling to find your voice. "It’s not a big deal—"

His laugh was humorless. "Not a big deal?" His fingers curled at his sides like he was physically restraining himself. "You seriously don’t get it, do you?"

"Get what?" You whispered.

Rafe exhaled sharply, his jaw clenched so tightly you swore he might break his teeth. Then, in one swift motion, he grabbed your chin between his fingers, tilting your head up to look at him. Your breath caught in your throat.

"Don’t ever send shit like that to another guy." His voice was low, dangerously soft. "Not when you have me."

Your heart stuttered. "Rafe—"

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head slightly like he was at war with himself. His grip on your chin tightened just enough to make you dizzy. "Do you have any idea what you just did to me?"

You swallowed, your skin buzzing under his touch. "I—"

"You think I didn’t like it?" He scoffed, his thumb brushing against your bottom lip. "You think I’m mad because I didn’t want to see you like that?"

Your stomach flipped.

He leaned in, his lips just barely grazing the shell of your ear as he whispered, "I’m mad because now I can't stop fucking thinking about it."

A sharp breath left your lungs.

His other hand trailed down, gripping the hem of your—his—shirt. His fingers brushed against your bare thigh, sending shivers up your spine.

"Tell me to stop," he murmured.

But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

The second you didn’t tell him to stop, Rafe took that as a green light.

Before you could process it, his hands gripped your waist, and in one swift motion, he lifted you off the floor. A startled gasp left your lips as he placed you on the nearest surface—the hallway counter—knocking over a few things in the process.

Your legs instinctively spread, your oversized shirt riding up your thighs, exposing just how bare you were beneath it.

Rafe wasn’t blind. He saw everything.

And fuck, he wasn’t about to pretend he didn’t notice how worked up you already were.

A dark smirk tugged at his lips as his hands slid up your thighs, fingers tracing your soft skin. "You didn’t even think about putting something on, huh?" His voice was low, teasing. "Almost like you wanted me to see you like this."

Heat crawled up your neck, but before you could snap back, his fingers were already moving.

Without hesitation, he slipped between your thighs, brushing against your slick heat. A breathy moan slipped past your lips as he ran two fingers through your folds, feeling just how wet you were for him.

"Shit," Rafe groaned under his breath. "Look at you."

Your head tilted back slightly, hands gripping the edge of the counter as he teased you, his fingers barely dipping into you before pulling away again. Your hips bucked slightly, chasing the friction, and he chuckled.

"Needy, huh?"

"Rafe—" Your voice was a quiet plea, but he wasn’t feeling merciful tonight.

He pushed two fingers inside you with ease, the stretch making you gasp. He wasted no time, his fingers curling just right, pressing against that spot that made your entire body shudder.

"That’s it, baby," he murmured, his free hand gripping your thigh, keeping you spread for him. "Fuck, you’re already squeezing me."

Your legs twitched, the pleasure overwhelming as he pumped his fingers inside you, slow but deliberate. His thumb found your clit, rubbing small, calculated circles that made you whimper.

"Bet you weren’t even thinking about that guy when you took those pictures," he taunted, his pace never faltering. "Bet you were thinking about me."

You didn’t answer, but your body betrayed you—the way you clenched around his fingers, the way your thighs trembled.

He leaned in, his lips ghosting over yours, but never closing the distance. "Say it," he murmured. "Tell me who you really wanted to send them to."

Your pride held on, but your body was already giving him the answer.

You didn’t answer his question. You couldn’t. Saying it out loud would mean admitting it—to him, to yourself. That you never meant for those pictures to go to anyone but him. That the only person you wanted to see you like this, touch you like this, was Rafe.

But your silence didn’t matter. Your body told him everything he needed to know.

You gasped, yanking his wrist, pulling his fingers out of you before you could tumble over the edge. Rafe’s brows furrowed, his fingers glistening in the dim light, but before he could question it, your hands found his waistband, tugging at his jeans.

He let out a low chuckle, but it was rough, almost breathless. "That desperate, huh?"

You ignored him, too focused on shoving his jeans down. The second they pooled around his ankles, you took a moment—your breath hitching as you took him in.

Fuck.

You already knew he was big, but seeing it—thick, hard, already leaking at the tip—had you swallowing hard.

Rafe didn’t give you time to think. He grabbed your hips, dragging you to the edge of the counter, spreading you wider. He didn’t bother with teasing or stretching you any further—he knew you could take it.

And you did.

The moment he pushed inside, a strangled moan left your lips, your hands flying to grip his shoulders.

"Shit," Rafe gritted, his fingers digging into your skin as he bottomed out in one sharp thrust.

It was rough. Raw. Deep.

He didn’t give you time to adjust—he pulled back just enough before slamming into you again, knocking the breath from your lungs. The counter rattled beneath you with every thrust, his grip bruising, his pace relentless.

"Look at you," he groaned, watching the way your body took him, how you clenched around him with every movement. "This is what you wanted, huh? Not him—me."

Your nails scraped down his back, a broken moan escaping as he angled his hips just right, hitting that spot that had you seeing stars.

"You feel that?" Rafe panted, his forehead pressing against yours. "This is mine. You're mine."

You couldn’t even argue.

Not when you were falling apart around him, your body trembling as you came, his name spilling from your lips like it was the only thing you knew.

And Rafe? He followed right after, burying himself deep, groaning your name as he spilled inside you, claiming you in every way possible.

[gladiatorcunt]

father charlie asking you to call him father during sex is making me tweak

cw: 18+ mdni, fem reader, pussy EATING, let him be a little more openly crazy in this one, trope typical dub con and corruption kink but you're just as crazy so you think that you're doing the same thing to him, bible verses as dirty talk, inaccurate religious practices, religious slut shaming/degradation (?)

Your thighs are already shaking and he’s only kissing up your inner thighs, so cute, so sweet. “That’s it, little lamb, lie back for me.”

Your skirt is pushed up to pool around your hips, the wood of the pew you’re sitting on leaving an already uncomfortable ache in your hips.

Father Charlie kneels in front of you, right out in the middle of the open. Sure, it’s after hours and no one is on the premises but the two of you, but God is still here. Isn’t he? Watching in judgment as the man meant to be your spiritual leader sups at the fountain of your cunt.

He smiles when you start squirming and immediately slaps the inside of your thigh, harsh but genuine in its tough love, “Ah ah ah. I thought I told you to lie back and take your Father’s tongue in your pussy like a good girl.”

The candle’s flames flicker as you pant and stare down at him, he looks so handsome in the soft orange glow, like an angel. But isn’t it the demons who sneak down to earth and seduce unsuspecting whorish women into damnation? Father Charlie could never be a demon in your eyes though, and he knows this more than he knows every verse of the good word by heart.

He could desecrate you with a nail gun and you’d bend over and spread your legs, bleeding out on the beige carpet. But you’re his special girl, his darling wife to be and you know better than to do anything that would force his heavy hand.

“I-I’m so sorry, I won’t do it again.” You plead, the thought of losing his favor for even a second causes you genuine distress, "Obey your leaders and submit to them, for they are keeping watch over your souls, as those who will have to give an account.”

“I-i’m so sorry, who?” He mocks, pitching his voice higher and spitting on your clit. “I won’t do it again, who?”

“F-father. I’m so sorry, Father. I’ll be listen you, I swear.”

“You’re going to be a good girl for me anyway, like a real child of God should.”

Your soft sighs turn into even softer moans when he redoubles his efforts and leans forward to kiss your throbbing clit. A crucifix that tastes as electrifying as a star, he moans as your natural musk invades his senses. He’s so happy you’re on an off shaving day too, there’s just enough hair peeking through for some to come off on his tongue with every swipe.

Father Charlie moans into your puffy pussy, speaking in tongues into your folds and sliding his tongue in your sopping hole. He smacks his lips together when he pulls back to breathe, smiling up at you and licking away the sticky string of you that clings to his mouth.

“Maybe I should have this cunt for communion, draft my sermons laying in between your thighs. You should’ve never taken this job, little lamb. Now even God himself couldn’t keep us apart.”

A flash of light, and his nose bleeds onto your pubes. Then the vision’s gone, and Father Charlie’s burying himself back into the heaven that is your sloppy pussy.

You run your fingers through his hair in a frenzy, but you obediently sink into the shooting pain in your pelvis as you slump into the pew.

Father Charlie’s eyes glint like rubies as he eats you like a starving man, your water turning into wine as you flood his taste buds with your juices. His knees strain in the confines of his dark slacks, digging into the church floor, but his precious lamb is worth every twinge of pain. They’d be added bonuses, anyway. He hums a few lines of a hymn, the melodic vibrations give you tingles.

You squirt minutes later when you lock eyes and he nips at your clit, fantasizing about chewing it into a heart. He chastely pecks the bud through your orgasm and into overstimulation, which is always his goal. Father Charlie’s favorite game is to make you come for every sin you confess to in your last confessional.

“You’ve been eating what I’ve recommended, good, you’re fattening up really nicely, dear.” He comments with a quick squeeze to your mound, laughing at your exhaustion.

One down, six to go. You’re blessed with a guilty conscience.

“Go in peace.”

[maskedbyghost]

part 1 part 2

You don’t hear from him for two days. Not a text. Not a call. Not a single word. So you finally text him something short—coming by later to grab the rest of my stuff. You didn’t want to leave it like this, but you're not gonna be the one to chase him anymore. You gave him more chances than you should’ve, waited too long for a guy who couldn’t even tell you he wanted you to stay.

He doesn’t reply, but the front door’s unlocked when you get there.

You push it open, step inside, and the second you do, he’s there—leaning in the doorway between the kitchen and the hall, like he’s been waiting, like he knew you’d come at exactly that time. You pause, feeling weird about the way he's just standing there watching you, but you keep your eyes ahead and walk toward the bedroom.

And then the lock clicks, and you freeze.

“Did you just lock the door?”

Simon doesn’t even flinch. Just walks toward you slowly, like this is normal. “Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re not leaving.”

You blink at him, trying to figure out if he’s joking or if he’s actually lost it. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You’re not leaving me.”

“Simon—”

“No,” he says, firmer this time, standing in front of you now. “I’m not letting you go. I fucked up. I know I did. I should’ve said something. I should’ve grabbed you when you were walking out. Should’ve told you how much it was killing me to watch you leave. But I didn’t. And I regret it. And I’m not gonna let you pack up your shit and pretend like we don’t mean anything.”

You roll your eyes, trying not to let your voice shake. “I’m just here to get my stuff.”

“No, you’re not,” he says, following you as you walk into the bedroom and grab the bag off the floor. “You’re here because you’re hoping I’ll say something to make you stay.”

You start throwing your things into the bag without looking at him. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

He walks over and calmly pulls your sweatshirt out of the bag and folds it before putting it right back in the drawer.

You stare at him. “What are you doing?”

“Putting it back.”

“Simon, I swear to god—”

He pulls out another shirt, smooths it, puts it back in the closet.

“Stop it!” you snap, trying to push past him to grab it again.

But he steps in front of you, puts his arms around you and holds you against his chest. “No. You’re not going anywhere. I can’t let you. I haven’t slept, haven’t eaten anything that wasn’t complete shit, and I’ve been sitting in this house trying to figure out how I let the one person who gave a fuck about me walk out. I know I ruined it. I know you don’t trust me anymore. But I’ll earn it back. I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll fix it. I swear.”

You struggle against him, not hard, but enough to make it clear you’re not just giving in. “Let go of me.”

He tightens his arms around you instead and presses a kiss to your cheek. Then another, and another, soft little ones, all over your face—your nose, your jaw, your forehead—mumbling between them like he’s afraid if he stops talking you’ll slip away again.

“I love you. I know I didn’t say it before but I do, and I’ve loved you for so fucking long and I didn’t know how to show it right, but I’ll learn. Just don’t go. Please. Ask anything from me, and I’ll do it. I’ll take time off, I’ll go to therapy, I’ll talk more, I’ll do the dishes without you asking. Just stay. I’ll give you everything. Just give me one more shot. Please, love. Please.”

You’re still half trapped in his arms, his voice right by your ear, and you try to stay mad, you really do. But the longer he holds you, the more ridiculous this whole scene feels, and the more you remember how badly you wanted him to fight for you, just once.

“Anything?” you ask, just to test it.

“Yeah. Anything. Just name it.”

You pull your head back a little, looking up at him. “You’ll let me get a cat?”

He blinks. “A cat?”

“You said no every time I brought it up.”

He groans a little but then lets out this small, helpless laugh and buries his face in your neck. “Fuckin’ hell. Yeah. Fine. Get a cat. Get two. I’ll buy it a bed nicer than mine, yeah?”

You try to hide your smile, but it slips through. “Even if it scratches your favorite chair?”

He looks up at you with a look of pure defeat. “Love, I’d let it scratch my face at this point. Just—don’t go, alright?”

You sigh, and it comes out more like a laugh, and he takes it as a win, because he pulls you in even tighter and doesn’t let go.

And this time, you don’t push him away.

------------------------------------------

can you forgive me now?

@daydreamerwoah @kylies-love-letter @ghostslollipop @kittygonap @alfiestreacle @identity2212 @farylfordaryl @rafaelacallinybbay @akkahelenaa @lovelovelovelovelove987654321 @wraith-bravo6 @tachiara @marispunk @gluttonybiscuits

[snail-day]

Okay, Satoru. It’s just a thought. Just a tiny little passing thought that’s totally not turning his insides into goo. You should move in with me.

He thinks it once. Then again. Then another twelve times before lunch. Tossing and turning in bed, kicking the sheets off in frustration because the thought keeps trickling back.

He’s lying flat on his back in bed, hair a mess, blindfold askew, thumb mindlessly scrolling his phone while you hum in the kitchen. And it hits him again - soft and sudden - how nice this is. How perfect. How stupidly, heart-warmingly good it feels to have you here.

You’re wearing his shirt. His biggest one. It swallows you whole, slipping off one shoulder, sleeves dragging past your fingers. And you look so at home like that. Humming and barefoot and sleepy-eyed, stealing strawberries from his fridge like you belong here.

And maybe you do.

He makes a list in his notes app again. Title: Reasons you should move in Beneath it:

No more goodbyes

No more packing bags

No more waiting for a “made it home safe” text (even though he loves them. But he’d rather hear you say it in person. Whispered, sleepily, into his chest.)

No more having to wait when he has missions to come see you

No more nights without you

And then, after a pause:

I love you.

He stares at it too long. Taps the screen a few times. Doesn’t delete it.

Then, Shoko. Of course it’s Shoko. At the worst possible moment, over coffee, just sips and goes, “Most couples break up when they move in together, y’know.”

And now Satoru is spiraling. What if you hate his weird dish organization system? What if you think he takes up too much of the closet? What if you want to split rent even though he just wants to spoil you rotten and give you everything? What if you get tired of him? What if he says the wrong thing and ruins it?

He’s big. He’s loud. He forgets to put the cap back on the toothpaste sometimes. He talks too much when he’s nervous (which is always, around you). He’s him.

But then - you’re here again, on his couch, laptop propped on a pillow, mumbling at apartment listings with the cutest frown on your face.

“This one’s tiny.” “Why is there carpet in the bathroom?” “Three stars and one said ‘roach army.’ I can’t do roach armies.”

And something in his heart just snaps - in a soft, trembling, full-body kind of way.

He watches the way your nose scrunches. The way you tuck your feet under you. The way his hoodie dwarfs you completely. With the throw blanket you always leave thrown across your lap. You belong here. He wants you here. Desperately.

So he says it. Barely above a whisper. Practically choking on his own heartbeat.

“…You could just move in with me.”

And then he’s frozen. Stiff as a board. Sweat prickling at his neck. His pretty mouth parted like he wants to suck the words back in.

You blink up at him. And then that smile. Bright. Full of surprise and something sweeter, something soft and glowing and yes.

“Are you sure?”

His heart stutters. Then melts. Then does something violent and romantic in his ribcage.

God, you’re so pretty. Why are you so pretty? He swears the sun could retire, you’re smiling so bright.

“Yeah,” he says, voice a little hoarse. “I mean - only if you want to. I just thought... it’d be nice. Y’know. To have you here. All the time. With me.”

And then you’re in his lap, arms wrapped around his neck, giggling into his hair, and he’s pretty sure his soul just left his body.

He clutches you, hands slightly trembling, grip lacking because he's scared this is some dream. Hides his face in your shoulder. Mumbles something pathetic like, “You’re gonna kill me.”

You laugh. “In a good way?”

He nods into the hoodie you stole. “The best way.”

He doesn’t let go for a long time. Anytime you move away, he brings you back. Hopefully so you don't see the mess he's become. He's the strongest. Yet you make him weak.

Later that night, you’re lying in his bed again - your bed now too, maybe - and you’re talking about what corner your books would go in and whether he has space for your desk, and he’s just watching you, glassy-eyed and stupid in love.

Your fingers graze his jaw, after tracing a few scars on his body, brush his snowy hair from his lashes. And he just… melts. Turns into a puddle right there.

“I can’t believe you said yes,” he whispers. Slow and full of disbelief.

You giggle, a soft gentle noise that somehow still makes his heart stop, brushing your nose against his. “I can’t believe it took you this long to ask.”

Satoru smiles, wide and sleepy and helpless. He’s flushed pink all the way to his ears. He wants to bottle this feeling. Keep it forever. Because for once, everything is quiet. Safe. Full of love. That this is what forever feels like. New list: The proposal.

[xximperioxx]

One of me is cute, but two though?

Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x fem!reader

Word Count: 2.7k (not proofread)

Warnings: NSFW (18+ ONLY) age gap, swearing, fluff, established relationship, poorly written explicit smut, p in v, the slightest bit somnophilia, breeding kink, cockwarming?, female anatomy, male anatomy, unsafe sex, (let me know if I missed anything) MDNI 18+

Notes: pls be gentle with me this is my first time writing smut like this and Im so inexperienced it’s not funny. Enjoy the Sarah Paulson meme I put in there. Also I’ve been blown away by the love my work has recent gotten and I truly appreciate it. Anyways enjoy <3

Gif cred: @xxdrixx

———————————————————

You don’t exactly remember how you and Dr. Robinavitch got together. It started out with stolen glances and innocent touches at work and a kiss outside your apartment when he walked you home one night.

Today was busy and you were ready to go home. Except it wasn’t even noon yet.

You sit down at a computer with a huff. Your feet silently thanking you for a break. The sounds of the ED ringing in your ears as you try to focus on the screen in front of you. Your leg begins to bounce out of habit and your eyes look around the busy hospital.

Santos takes a seat at the computer across from you. She gives you a small smile. You return the gesture before your eyes look back at the computer and stare at the time. All you wanted to do was go back to Robby’s apartment and cuddle on the couch with your sweats on. With how this day was going the dream of your Friday night plans were beginning to fade away. Is an easy day so hard to ask for?

Collins catches your eye as she tries to soothe a crying baby. Robby tells her something before she carefully hands the child to him. Your eyes immediately gravitate seeing your boyfriend gently rocking the fussy infant. You perk up, now sitting up straight. If this wasn’t the hottest thing you’ve ever seen you don’t know what was. The two of you haven’t brought up the conversation of kids just yet.

You knew he was getting older and while you were still young, you weren’t sure of motherhood just yet. You’ve seen the horrors and heartbreak of childbirth in this hospital but you’ve also seen the light it brought to people. When the tears of pain turn into tears of joy. You’ve always imagined having a family but you never had a timeline. That was until you saw your man holding a baby right then.

You feel yourself grow hot and your pulse quickens. Suddenly, images of a future as a family with him flash through your mind. Being pregnant with Robby by your side, gently rocking your child to sleep, getting them ready school in the morning. You want it. All of it. God you wanted to climb like a tree right here.

The attending can feel someone’s eyes on him. His eyes search the room before they land on yours. His gently shushing comes to a stop. He gives you a confused look, not able to read your expression. Your lustful eyes soften as your face flushes from enamorment. You love him. You shake your head silently telling him it’s nothing.

He gives you a smile that says ‘I love you’ but a look that says you’ll be talking later. He continues to softly shush the infant in his arms before going to find the mother.

You don’t hear Collins approach the desk. She follows your gaze and lets out a laugh, “You okay there, Doc?”

Santos doesn’t look up from her computer, “She’s been like this for 5 minutes. Making bedroom eyes at Dr. Robby.”

“I think my body just had a physical reaction.” you joke.

Santos grimaced, “I don’t need to know about that. You keep that to yourself.” Collins lets out a snort as you scoff.

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

You let out a yelp as a hand pulls you into an unused room. The person pulls you into them. Out of reflex you start resisting. Which ends up to be you sadly hitting their chest.

“It’s just me– stop hitting me. Hey!” Robby grabs your hands, stopping you from hitting him more.

Your eyes widen in shock, “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” Surprised turns to annoyance. You glare at him, “Why didn’t you just leave me a note like you normally do?”

He lets go of your hands and lets out a laugh. You try to fight turning your scowl into a stupid grin at his laugh.

His hands slither around your waist, pulling you flushed against him, “Is it so wrong for me to want a spontaneous moment alone with my beautiful girlfriend.” You roll your eyes as your hands reach up to rest on his chest.

He leans down and his lips meet yours for a gentle kiss.

He slowly pulls away after a few seconds, “We really need to get you trained on self defense because whatever that was earlier– was sad.”

You hit him again.

“Ow!”

You shut him up with a quick kiss, “Don’t be a wimp. I didn’t hit you that hard.” He grins.

His thumb sneaks under your scrub top and grazes the bare skin. Subconsciously, you feel your body shiver at his cold touch and lean into him closer. He smirks down at you. “What was with that look you gave me earlier?”

Your eyes look up at him with innocence, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

A pinch causes your hips to jerk. His fingers caress the area. You sigh and nervously play with his stethoscope around his neck. “It’s dumb.” You mumble.

He gives you a displeased look, “Trust me it’s not.”

You purse your lips and can feel your heart beating faster, “When you were holding that baby,” the image pops into your mind, “It made me realize I want that with you. Like really, really badly.”

Your boyfriend raises an eyebrow at you, not expecting that.

His face softens, “You want a baby with me?”

You nod.

“I want a family with you too.”

Your hands reach up and pull him down for a searing kiss. He kisses you back immediately.

The two of you slowly pull away to catch your breath.

Robby placed a kiss on your forehead, “I love you.”

Your face turns red at the thought of earlier. You laugh and hide your face in his chest. “Michael, I wanted to fuck you right then and there. It was so embarrassing.”

His laugh rumbles his chest. “So that’s what that look was.”

Your groan comes out muffled from his chest.

“Well, how about tonight when we get home,” his thumbs start tracing your skin again, “We can work on that. Plus, you’re ovulating…”

You pull away with a scoff, slightly amazed. “How the hell do you even know that?”

He shrugs, giving you a sheepish grin, “It’s the doctor in me…and the boyfriend in me.”

A knock interrupts you two. Dana’s voice rings out, “Robby! We got a teen. Respiratory arrest. ETA 2 minutes.”

You both pull away from each other. Robby runs his hands down his face before they drop to his side. He sighs.

You lift your hand to his cheek and bring his face to yours.You press a kiss to his other cheek. “I love you.”

He gives your hand a squeeze before walking out to prepare for the coming case. You pull out your phone for a minute, not wanting to make it obvious you were in the room with your attending alone.

You walk out of the room, mentally trying to prepare yourself for what’s to come for the rest of the shift. A body waiting outside the door scares you. Dana.

You greet her with a shy smile, “Hi, Dana.”

The charge nurse gives you a knowing smirk, “Hi, kid.”

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

Robby waits outside the hospital by the bike rack with one AirPod in. He focuses on McVie’s bass while ‘The Chain’ plays in his ear, blocking out the thoughts of his shift. His eyes follow the headlights of the cars passing the building.

You see Robby standing with his hands in his sweatshirt pockets. As if he could feel you coming, he looks up to meet your tired eyes. He greets you with a faint smile.

“Sorry, Collins stopped me on my way out about one of my patients.”

You didn’t want to tell him that the actual conversation was. It was just Collins leaning into you in passing with a “I hope it sticks tonight” ,a cheeky grin, and thumbs up for luck. All while you gaped at her.

You reach for his hand as you begin the walk to his place. Like most days when you and Robby share the same shift, the two of you walk to his apartment in comfortable silence. Robby normally listened to music to clear his head as you paid attention to the night life of the city.

Robby opens the door to his apartment and walks in after you. After dropping your bag at the table, you walk over to the door and take off your shoes. Out of the corner of your eye you see Robby walking over to you with a smolder.

He goes to reach for you but your hand stops him, “We are not doing anything until I am out of these scrubs and we have food in our stomachs because I know you didn’t eat anything today but a granola bar.”

Robby sighs in disappointment and you let out a snicker. He opens the fridge and pulls out leftovers as you grab two plates out of the cabinet.

The two of you eat while sharing conversations about positive things about your shifts. He brings up working with Whittaker as you share how your cases with Santos went well.

After you both finish, Robby picks up both of your plates as you start putting away the food you didn’t eat, “Do you mind if I take a quick shower?”

You wave him off and he gives you a quick peck on the lips before you start working on the dishes. After a bit, the kitchen is now clean. It had been a mess since this morning when the two of you left in a rush for work. You finish washing your hands before throwing the paper towel in the trash. The water had stopped a while ago and figured Robby had gotten ready for bed.

You make your way to the bedroom and find Robby sitting against the headboard in his boxers with a book in his hands. He glances up at you, his readers resting on his nose,“Thank you for cleaning, honey.”

He reaches his arm out to you. Walking over, you lean down and give him a quick kiss. “I’m going to shower. I’ll be quick.”

You come out of the bathroom feeling refreshed, wearing Robby’s bathrobe and some spare panties you had in the apartment. Rummaging through his dresser for a shirt, you feel Robby’s eyes on you. You laugh, “Stop looking at me like a teenage boy.”

“I can’t help it.” You glance down at the bulge growing in his boxers.

He motions you over and you immediately follow. You climb over him with ease, now straddling him. He notices your dilated pupils and how your breathing deepens. His calloused fingers trail from your thighs up to your hips.

Your eyes move from his eyes to his lips once more before leaning down and capturing his lips with yours. He kisses you back feverishly.

His fingers quickly untie the robe. He slips it off you and tosses it across the room. You let out a whimper as his hands immediately grasp at your breasts. Your kiss gets interrupted by your phone ringing from the other room.

You shake your head, “Ignore it.”

He leaves kisses down your neck. His teeth scraping, leaving you out of breath. You subconsciously begin to grind your hips. He lets out a groan before gently biting down on your pulse point.

His fingers push aside your panties. “Fuck,” He choked a groan feeling how wet you were.

You let out a whimper as his fingers collected your wetness. His thumb gently brushes against your clit. You fall into him with a gasp.

Your ringtone interrupts you again. You pull away with a sigh.

Robby’s hands rest on your hips. “Go get it. It could be important. Besides, I’m not going anywhere. ” you nod before he gives your hips a squeeze as you get off him.

You quickly grab an old junky shirt from his dresser. Your footsteps pad against the hardwood to the kitchen and you pick up your phone. You see two missed calls and a message from your mom. Call me.

What you thought was an important call ended up being 15 minutes of your mom trying to catch up and you repeating you would call her tomorrow. The ‘call me’ was just to tell you that she and dad got a new dog. You wanted to slam your head against the wall.

You come back into the bedroom with a snort, ready to tell your boyfriend what happened. You stop to find him asleep leaning against the headboard with his mouth slightly open. Soft snores fill the room. You let out a quiet laugh.

You turn the light off by his bedside and carefully take off his reading glasses before crawling into bed with him. You aimlessly scroll on your phone, looking at social media.

You don’t feel him shift, his head finally sinking into his pillow, “I’m sorry,” he mumbles.

You roll onto your side and face him.

“For being tired after a long shift?”

He grumbles and you snuggle into him with your head laying on his bare chest. “It’s okay, I’m tired too,” you reassure him while stifling a yawn. He lays a gentle kiss on the top of your head. You both fall asleep within minutes.

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

When you woke up in the morning you were expecting it to be the smell of coffee and not your boyfriend copping a feel. Your eyes flutter open to see Robby’s fingers carefully massaging your breasts under your shirt, gently pinching your nipples. All while pressing kisses down your neck.

His hardened cock rubs against you. You let out a tired laugh before turning to face him, “Well, good morning to you.”

He gives you a boyish grin. He watches as you climb on top of him. In the same position as last night. “Good morning, hon.”

Your fingers graze his bulge before giving it a squeeze, “You weren’t joking about trying for a baby right away.”

Robby shakes his head while biting his lip trying not to moan. Noticing the damp spot on your panties, his rough fingers brush against your clothed clit, “Not wasting any time.”

You let out a whimper. “P-Perfect.”

He slides your panties down and you awkwardly take them off before he takes his boxers off. His cock springs against his stomach. You lower your hips. Robby grips your hips once more and you gently begin to move. Your slickness now coating his thick member as your pussy slowly rubs up and down. Your hand covers your mouth as you let out a muffled moan when your clit brushes against his tip.

Robby throws his head back, “Fuck, sweetheart,” he groans, “if you keep this up. I-I can’t cum in you.”

You nod. You don’t think you can form a sentence right now. Your body was on fire. Your hips lift as Robby guides himself to your entrance. You let out a whine at the same time Robby lets out a breathy moan as you slowly sink down on him. Every inch stretching you as if it’s your first time together again.

You slowly begin to move your hips up and down as you ride him. After a few seconds you feel yourself grow tired and slow down. Robby lets out a chuckle.

“Don’t laugh. I’m doing all the work, old man.” His fingers find your clit and gives it a soft pinch. You let out a shaky gasp. “Don’t be mean.” You warn.

Your hands scratch at his chest as his hips begin to thrust up meeting yours. The sounds coming from his mouth edge you closer to finishing.

“Fuck, I’m close,” Robby warns with a grunt. His hooded eyes staring at your blissful face. His thumb rubs small circles on your clit.

“Oh fuck, Michael- baby,” you whine as he speeds up his thumb motion.

After a few more thrusts, Robby cums inside you with a guttural moan. Your release follows shortly after, loudly moaning as you feel him cum. Your hips continue to grind, riding out your bliss.

Suddenly, you feel heavy as your orgasm bliss wears off. Your muscles screaming at you. Panting, you tiredly slump on top of Robby. He gently rubs your back still inside you. The two of you even your breathing.

You lay in comfortable silence as you listen to his heartbeat. Robby draws shapes on your back. The sun peaks through a crevice of the blackout curtains.

“I feel good about that one,” you joke, “Having two of me will be a handful for you.”

Getting a second wind, Robby flips you both over. Now smirking down at you on your back, “We should keep trying…just to be safe.”

[brokenmenswhore]

a proposition: a return | poly!marauders

#4

pairing: poly!marauders x fem!reader (james, remus, and sirius, featuring alecto, dorcas, evan, lily, marlene, and mary)

warnings: smut (MDNI 18+), voyeurism

a/n: if you’ve requested to be on the taglist but didn’t get tagged, check the taglist at the bottom to see if your account is unlinked, and if so check your settings to make sure i can tag you! i added everyone’s @ even if it didn’t let me tag an account to it. also i don’t have it in me to proofread 17 times anymore sorry for any errors

a proposition: masterlist

────── ☾ ──────

When you approached the girls, who were seated around their usual Gryffindor table after class for a study session, you were immediately thrown by the unfamiliar face among them.

“Y/N! Come sit!”

Lily’s usual excitement shone through as she patted the empty spot on the bench next to her. You tentatively sat down, hoping someone would introduce you to the unfamiliar person, but she was occupying the group too much to even take notice of you.

“And they call the bin a trash can. I mean talk about being literal, right? I swear, if one more person over there called something by the exact descriptor of what it was, I would have thrown a book at their head.”

The table chuckled at her story.

“Marlene, this is Y/N,” Lily chimed in once the girl was done speaking.

Marlene turned her head toward you, scanning the visible portion of your body before landing on your face. “Hey.”

“Hey,” you responded, flushed and uncomfortable.

“So you’re a part of this group now?” Marlene asked completely unprompted.

You were slightly taken aback. “Yeah, yeah, I guess.”

“Well you either are or you aren’t.”

You stared at her for a moment, unsure of how to act. You had never met this person, and now she was snapping at you. “I am.”

Instead of responding to you, Marlene turned to Lily and said, “I thought this was a set thing? Since when do we let new people in?”

“God, Marls, it’s not like there’s a rule book,” Dorcas said.

“We literally all agreed, Dorcas,” Marlene bounced back.

“And we all agreed to include Y/N,” Lily smiled, refusing to include herself in the tension of the conversation.

“I didn’t,” Marlene responded, leaning on her elbows over the table in a confrontational stance.

“You weren’t here,” Dorcas fought.

Marlene took a deep breath before grabbing her books and standing up. “I’ll see you guys later,” she said, exiting the Great Hall in a huff.

You looked around in hopes that someone, anyone, would explain to you exactly what just happened. Instead, the table stayed quiet, refusing to acknowledge any of it as they continued studying.

You were too nervous to ask, so you pretended like nothing happened as you pulled out your books.

The next day, in between classes, you ran into Sirius in the library. You were met with two consecutive free blocks, which allowed you time to study. Sirius, on the other hand, just didn’t feel like attending charms.

“Aren’t you usually in class right now?” he said, catching you browsing through the shelves of books.

“Mhm.”

“You’re skipping?”

“I have it free today.”

Sirius furrowed his brow as he studied your face. It was unlike you to be so dry in your answers.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you said, engrossed in your own thoughts about Marlene and her reaction to you. You hadn’t realized how you were speaking to Sirius.

“Wanna sit for a second?” Sirius said, nonchalant as if your answer wouldn’t phase him.

“Sure,” you shrugged, approaching a nearby table.

Sirius sat across from you, studying your face as you tried to arrange your books. You peered up at him for a second, noticing his gaze but pretending you didn’t.

You thought about speaking, but weren’t capable of acting as though you weren’t bothered. If this person was part of the group, surely Sirius knew her already, so you decided to test it out.

“Marlene’s back, you know,” you said, as if you were completely in the know about everything regarding this mysterious new person.

“I know,” Sirius responded, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it.

You waited to see if he would elaborate any further, but he simply sat there, smoking his cigarette, staring at you.

“I didn’t even know she existed until this morning,” you said, “is there a reason no one told me? She was pretty cold to me.”

“That’s just Marlene,” Sirius brushed it off. He seemed as if he didn’t want to talk about it, but you couldn’t stop yourself from pushing it.

“Where has she been? I’ve never seen her before,” you asked.

Sirius sighed. “She spent a year at Ilvermorny.”

You were getting frustrated from how little information Sirius was giving you. He was strategically only answering your exact question, and only doing so in the most concise way possible.

“Why?” you pressed.

“Wanted a year away,” he said.

You sighed. “Sirius, you’re not giving me much.”

Sirius sat upward, leaning his elbows on the table and smiling in amusement at your interest. “Why so curious?”

“Just wondering what happened is all.”

Sirius saw the intrigue on your face and caved. “She took a year away from here after a bunch of drama happened. She was falling pretty hard for someone in our group and that person wasn’t really the monogamous type. They got in a huge fight, the whole group was there- it got really messy. She couldn’t take it anymore and decided to transfer schools. Guess she’s back now,” he finally explained.

“She wasn’t supposed to come back?”

“I have no idea. She only told Dorcas she was leaving. That’s the only reason we all knew.”

You nodded your head, flipping through the pages of a textbook as if this new information meant nothing of importance to you.

“So she left the group?”

Sirius sighed. “She left the school, Y/N. I don’t think anyone expected her to show back up.”

“So she never officially left the group.”

“Why would it matter?” Sirius smiled, “you jealous of her or somethin’?”

“What? No,” you said, “I just didn’t know this person existed and she was a real bitch to me earlier. Just wondering why.”

Sirius leaned an arm over the table and put his hand over yours. “You have nothin’ to worry about.”

The gesture was unlike Sirius, but you appreciated it nevertheless, and you smiled at him to show it.

────── ☾ ──────

“So you’re in this now, hm?”

You, startled by the sudden voice, whipped your head around to see Marlene McKinnon jogging to catch up to you in the hallway.

“Yeah,” you said as you continued on your route to class.

“What’s so special that you’ve got Sirius Black asking for you to join? You that good of a lay? The whore of Hufflepuff?”

You stopped on your tracks, wiping stray hairs out of your face as you huffed, “what?”

“I just mean, Sirius isn’t really one to pick and choose,” she said, sizing you up, “you must have gotten a glowing endorsement from someone. Let me guess, Remus?”

“I don’t know what you’re on about,” you brushed her off.

“Sirius Black wouldn’t invite a lower-year virgin into our little group,” Marlene said, “he just wouldn’t. So fess up.”

“This is insane,” you said, turning forward and beginning to walk again.

Marlene stepped in front of you, cutting you off as you nearly walked straight into her.

“I have class,” you stated dryly.

“You won’t last, you know,” Marlene started, “once the shiny new toy gets played with a few times, they’ll get bored and throw it away.”

“What’s your problem?” you said, surprising yourself with your confrontation. Being in this group was making you more confident in yourself.

“Don’t have one,” Marlene said, “just trying to get the scoop, since I was so rudely left out.”

“I have class,” you repeated.

“Oh, don’t let me stop you, but I should warn you that those boys don’t tend to stick with the good girls.”

“That’s too bad, since I’m already in the group,” you fought back, sick of her insults.

“For now,” Marlene said, smiling triumphantly and she stepped to the side.

You shot her a look before walking off.

────── ☾ ──────

When you’d confided in Dorcas how Marlene had been treating you, you didn’t anticipate that she would become quite so enraged, pulling you around and collecting all the members of your group until you were all together.

Fuming, Dorcas finally took a seat.

“What’s goin’ on?” James asked.

“A good ol’ Dorcas summoning,” Evan joked.

Dorcas sat in silence, nostrils flaring as she stared at Marlene.

“Well?” Marlene said, legs and arms crossed, “what is it?”

“Have you been threatening Y/N?”

Marlene immediately threw her hands up. “What am I, on trial? Fuck this.”

She began to stand, but Sirius stood as well. “Sit down,” he said, and she sighed, but did as she was told.

You were taken aback by how serious he was being. You hasn’t even told him what Marlene said to you.

“I didn’t threaten her,” Marlene said.

“So you didn’t tell her she’s a toy we’ll all get bored of playing with?”

The heads in the room all turned to Marlene. “Why does it matter? If she can’t handle being part of this, then she shouldn’t be a part of it.”

“You can’t just bully her out because you’re jealous.”

“Jealous of what, Dorcas? Hm? The fact she’s in the goodie two-shoes house?”

“Guys,” you tried to chime in, but it got lost in the tension.

“Oh, you know what,” Dorcas spat.

Dorcas and Marlene both stood, their voices growing louder and louder.

“No, I don’t. Tell me Dorcas, what the fuck do I have to be jealous of? Some young little girl who doesn’t even know how to fuck?”

“Guys,” you tried again.

“Why did you even come back, Marlene?” Dorcas retaliated.

“What, you didn’t miss me?”

“One day you’re my best friend, and the next you just leave a note like ‘oh! I can’t do it anymore and I’m transferring to America, bye!’ and I’m just supposed to jump up and down in joy when you suddenly decide we’re worthy enough to have you back?”

Marlene plopped back into her chair. “This is bullshit, I’m not doing this. Did you really call us all here just to yell at me in front of everyone?”

“No,” Dorcas said, “I called us all here to vote you out.”

The room stilled for a moment before Marlene scoffed. “To vote me out?”

“Guys!” you finally yelled, and it caught their attention, “can we please calm down?”

“You wanna vote me out? Are you kidding me?”

“No, I’m not kidding you.”

Marlene and Dorcas stared at each other, intensity in their eyes as Remus finally tried to calm the situation down.

“Marlene, things are a little different than when you were here before,” Remus said, “I think it’s only fair that you’re either okay with that, or you’re out.”

“Oh yeah?” Marlene replied, “and what’s different? Besides the Huffle-slut.”

You threw your hands in the air, exhausted of Marlene’s inexplicable hatred toward you.

“Well, for starters, are you over him?” Remus asked.

Marlene stared at Remus blankly, almost as if she was trying to think her way out of answering, but couldn’t.

You looked around the room, but everyone was too focused on Marlene’s answer to provide you with any explanation. You couldn’t help but feel left out of something.

“Yeah,” Marlene shrugged.

“I don’t believe you,” Dorcas said.

“Go cry about it,” Marlene spat.

“Stop, fuckin’ hell,” Remus sighed, “are you or are you not okay with Y/N being here?”

“Clearly I’m not, mom.”

Remus huffed and stood up. “Well, fuck this, I’m done trying,” he said, walking over to the ashtray and flicking embers off the butt of his cigarette.

The room stilled, everyone unsure of what to do.

“You guys shouldn’t have agreed on anyone new without me,” Marlene spoke up.

“Bloody hell, you were gone, you fucking idiot,” Dorcas said, “and we had no reason to think you were coming back. What were we gonna do, send an owl? Fuck off.”

“Can she even fuck?”

“Give it a rest, Marlene,” Sirius spoke up.

“No, I wanna know. Can you fuck?” she said, turning to you.

Your eyes widened. “I’m not dignifying that with an answer,” you stated.

“Prove it.”

“Prove what?”

“Prove that you can fuck like a big girl.”

You looked around the group in disbelief. “Excuse me?”

“Pick someone here, and prove it.”

“Marlene, come on, shut the fuck u-“

Sirius was cut off by Marlene pressing on, “pick someone and let’s get on with it, Hufflepuff.”

A feeling shot straight to your core at the thought of having to fuck someone in front of the entire group. You were too worked up.

You looked up at Remus, who had been your obsession and your safe person thus far, and waited to see his expression. Marlene noticed your attention turn to him.

“Remus it is,” she said, moving the coffee table away from the center of the room, “hurry up. Let’s go.”

“I don’t think-“ Remus started.

“You know what? Fuck you, Marlene,” Dorcas said, rushing over to you.

Dorcas leaned down and kissed you hard, the kiss full of intensity and fire and anger. You were startled, but quickly started to kiss her back. This was your group, not hers anymore. If she wanted to see you fuck, she’d get a good show before she was kicked out.

Dorcas dropped to her knees in front of you. She propped one of your legs up against the armrest on the side of the couch.

Dorcas propped up your other leg and pushed it toward James, who was sitting right next to you. “Hold her, will ya?” Dorcas said.

James nodded, taking hold of your right leg.

With your legs widespread, your skirt bunched up at your waist.

“You consent?” Dorcas asked.

You nodded your head yes.

Dorcas wasted no time pushing your underwear to the side and diving in, flattening her tongue against you and moving up and down.

Your head tilted backward as you sighed, your eyes squeezed shut as you tried not to focus on the several pairs of eyes on you. You leaned onto James, trying to somewhat hide your face in his neck,

Dorcas was someone you’d always assumed would be rough in the bedroom, and she was angry and worked up over the Marlene situation, however, you were surprised by how soft and gentle she was being. You knew it was intentional for you.

She was in no rush, moving her tongue slowly against you. You thought of something Lily had told you previously: Girls give better head because they know what truly feels good.

You whimpered each time Dorcas swirled her tongue particularly well, and James lightly rubbed his thumb across your leg, comforting you on top of the pleasure.

“Jeez,” Evan spoke from across the room.

Marlene slouched in her chair in a huff, her eyes fixed on everyone else in the room, trying to gage their reactions to you.

You let out a light squeal when Dorcas began to trace around your hole with her finger, alerting you of an oncoming intrusion.

She slowly slipped one finger inside of you, again in no rush as you softly moaned at the sensation. Her mouth never detached from you as she began to pump her finger in and out of you.

James stroked your thigh with his fingers as he watched Dorcas eat you out, occasionally kissing the top of your head to remind you that you were okay. He also just wanted the validation of feeling included. James liked to feel needed.

Everyone was watching intently, turned on by the sight in front of them. Marlene was focused on everyone else, and Sirius took a drag of his cigarette every time James leaned in to kiss your head.

“Shit, I-“

You spoke so low that only James could hear it. James tapped Dorcas to warn her that you were about to come, and instead of following through, she stood up and backed away from you.

You instinctively closed your legs, remaining in your comfortable position against James.

“That wasn’t shit,” Marlene said, “you really want that in here?”

“Who said we were done?” Dorcas spat back.

Dorcas grabbed Remus’s arm and pulled him over to the empty space on the rug where the coffee table used to be.

Remus looked at Dorcas expectantly, but she just raised her eyebrows and gestured toward the floor.

Remus threw his hands up. “Yeah, it’s a nice rug.”

Dorcas sighed and pushed his shoulders until he was kneeling on the floor.

“You could have just fuckin’ told me where you wanted me, damn,” Remus said.

“Y/N?”

You were still slouched into James, trying to calm your breathing despite your core being on fire from the abrupt stop to your pleasure. “Mhm,” you vocalized.

When you didn’t receive an answer, you forced your eyes open to see the entire room staring at you.

“Think you’re needed down there, angel,” James whispered to you, nodding toward Remus.

You took a deep breath. You dropped to your knees and sat in front of Remus. He leaned in to your ear and whispered, “I’m gonna take care of you, baby.”

He kissed your cheek before he adjusted himself to a lay, sprawled out against the rug and waiting for you to sit on him.

You adjusted your legs around his waist, grateful Dorcas didn’t take your skirt fully off. You were still clothed and modest to the group.

“Remus doesn’t like to be kept waiting,” Marlene said.

“Don’t you speak for me, I’m doing just fine down here,” Remus said, placing his hands behind his head as he watched you in amusement.

You blindly undid Remus’s belt, pulling it off of him as you began to unbutton his jeans. Remus pushed his jeans and boxers down just enough to free his already hard cock.

You began to pull your underwear to the side, but a voice stopped you.

“No no,” Marlene said, “fuckin’ amateur. Don’t you know Remus needs a little something first?”

You knew she was just messing with you and trying to prove that she knew everyone better than you, but you felt like you knew Remus above everyone in the room.

But, if she wanted a show, you’d give her a show.

You slowly backed up on your knees until you were between Remus’s legs. You remained on your knees, allowing your ass to stick upward and your skirt to fall onto your back, exposing your backside, as your hands found Remus’s cock.

You looked to Lily, who had taught you the little you knew so far, and she nodded at you so as to say “you got this.” Her approving nod gave you confidence.

You licked a stripe from the base of Remus’s cock to the tip before sinking down on the entire length. Remus was large, too large to fit entirely in your mouth without deepthroating, but you didn’t care. You were running on pure lust, anger, and adrenaline.

Remus was looking down at you, but when his tip hit the back of your throat, he slammed his head back against the floor, a satisfied moan leaving his lips.

You pulled away almost entirely before sinking back down again, deepthroating him once more.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Remus sighed.

You swallowed in uncomfortability at the feeling of his cock in your throat, which only added to his pleasure.

“Bloody hell, you can see him in your throat, Y/N,” Lily said, “do that again.”

You looked up at Remus, who looked down to see what Lily was talking about. You swallowed again, and Remus could see the slight bulge of his cock in the top of your throat.

“Holy fuck.”

You pulled away and began to suck him normally, maintaining a steady rhythm. You couldn’t taste all of him without deepthroating, so you used your hand to account for the base of his length.

You looked up at Marlene, who scoffed and looked away as you kept your gaze on her, evidently showing her your confidence and ability as you sucked off Remus.

Marlene looked around the room and saw everyone’s eyes trained on you. Sirius adjusted his position in his seat, and James was nearly salivating.

“Okay, enough, get to it then,” Marlene said.

You pulled off of Remus, making a show of wiping your lower lip as you moved upward until you were sitting on top of Remus.

His hands found your waist without hesitation. He was lost in pleasure and lust, eager to feel you again.

You pushed your underwear to the side and held onto Remus’s length with one hand, positioning it at your entrance.

You slowly sank down, watching Remus’s face for any uncomfortability, but he was immediately just to happy to be inside of you that he pushed his hips up.

You gasped at the sudden feeling of a thrust, and Remus snapped open his eyes and looked up at you.

“You okay?”

You leaned down and kissed Remus. “Fuck me, Rem.”

Remus used one hand to hold your hair as he pulled you back into a kiss, and the other hand gripped your waist to hold you in place as he began to fuck up into you.

You dropped your head into the crook of his neck, and he held your head there, happy to have a few moments where he was the only one who could hear your small whimpers and whines. James was right: he did enjoy being special to you.

Dorcas knelt beside your bodies and wrapped her fingers in your hair, pulling back until you were seated up. She tugged at the bottom of your shirt, pulling it up over your head. She then unclasped your bra and pulled the straps off of your arms.

She hungrily kissed you, keeping you sat up so that your body was on full display for everyone in the room.

She kissed down from your neck to your breasts, sucking on your nipple as you threw your head back in pleasure.

You felt a sudden pang of embarrassment, but it was quickly gone as you looked to your right. Alecto was pressing her legs together for dear life, Evan was holding a pillow between his legs, and Sirius was staring you dead in the eyes.

You stared back for a moment, matching his eye contact. He coughed on cigarette smoke, something he never did as a veteran smoker, but continued to look back at you.

Your attention was pulled by Dorcas, who kissed you again as Remus’s thrusts grew harder and faster.

You moaned out as you threw your head back, trying to lift your hips in rhythm with Remus, but he was thrusting a little too fast for you.

Dorcas noticed, and she crawled behind you, kneeling on the floor as she held your body against hers, ensuring you remained seated upward and on display.

She kissed the side of your neck, sucking on a sweet spot as you closed your eyes and allowed yourself to get lost in the pleasure. You tried not to think about Marlene or the voyeurism, but just to be present in the moments of pleasure.

Your moans grew higher in pitch until you began to clench around Remus.

“Fuck, Remus, I- shit, I can’t-“

“No fucking cop outs,” Marlene said.

Embarrassment flooded your cheeks. Saying it was hard. “I- I’m-“

“Merlin, Y/N, please say it,” Remus spoke through erratic breaths below you.

You took a deep breathe. “I- I’m gonna come, Remmy, please-“

Remus snapped his hips hard, hitting your sweet spot and causing you to come with just a few more thrusts. Dorcas held you through your high, causing your legs to shake and your body to nearly convulse from the intensity as Remus came in succession.

You blinked your eyes open, trying to catch your breath as Dorcas kissed your temple and stood up.

You wiped sweat from your forehead and looked down at Remus, who put his hands behind his head again and smiled up at you.

“Stay there as long as you like.”

You giggled and leaned down to kiss Remus as Dorcas gave you back your shirt.

With Remus still in you, you pulled your shirt over your head and looked at Marlene, eyebrows raised.

“Good enough for you?” you grinned.

Marlene shrugged, clearly bothered. “Nothing I couldn’t do better.”

“I beg to differ,” Remus sighed, “not a lot could top that.”

You leaned down and kissed Remus before carefully lifting your hips and sitting back on the floor. You knew better than to try to stand.

Remus took a moment before covering himself back up, and you both sat on the floor with your backs against the couch. No one said anything.

“Didn’t think you could get any hotter, but fuck was I wrong,” Evan said.

“Are you always the horniest one in the room?” you joked.

“I don’t know, is he?” Marlene said, turning toward Sirius.

Sirius flicked embers into an ashtray. “Meaning?”

Marlene’s voice was not as confident as before. “You seemed to enjoy the show.”

“Oh, come on, Marlene, don’t start shit right now. You got what you wanted, you saw her fuck. You in or out?”

Marlene looked around the room, and everyone was focused on her. She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and leaned forward with her elbows on her knees.

“I’m already in. I never left the group,” she said dryly.

“One more shot,” Remus said, and Dorcas tried to speak up in protest, but Remus shushed her. “One more shot, but if you pull any shit, you’re out.”

Dorcas threw her hands in the air. “You come and suddenly you’re in a nice mood?”

“Y/N?” Remus said, looking to you, “that seem fair?”

You looked up at Marlene. She was clearly insecure about someone in this group, and if she left right now, you’d never find out who. Regardless, you didn’t feel like drama. If she stayed, whatever.

“Whatever.”

────── ☾ ──────

taglist: @alixmarauders @riddlemenottsluttyslytherin @twilightlover2007 @hcqwxrtss123 @queerndepressed @prongs-wolfstar-marauders @flowersarcute @remussbitch @ch4rlotte35 @alwaysanundertone @urfavhanna @donovorita28 @randomcreator-09 @joey-hoey @chronically-sh-ana @pinksmellslikelove @blvebanisters @aaronhotchswife @roseblack1864 @chaevvonders @champomiel @the-flaminhos @ilovesugurugeto69 @sammyreid @treefairy-28 @aza-writes @made-for-oliverwood @kaileygirl444 @livslifeonline @hi172826 @greyeyedmockingbird @prettylittlewrites @st0rmzi3 @butterchicken06 @yarri0 @camslut7 @ilovewhiteboysforlife @bibblemiluvr @moonyxstars @charlxzagzy @maxinehufflepuffprincess @yejiswifex @maverickgalathynius @bmyva1entine

[caelivir]

synopsis. you’ve been deliberately dodging atsumu miya. he wants to know why.

pairing. atsumu miya x fem!reader | wc. 2.0k (it wasn’t even supposed to be this long) | genres. (implied) university au, tbh i don’t even know what this dynamic is, he calls us princess, reader’s kinda bad emotionally, rain confessions

notes. for my birthday (not gojo’s eff him (/j)) i decided why not take one of my favorite tropes of all time and pair it w the loml. you’re so welcome. this is very dialogue heavy, barely proofread, and a hot mess, but i hope you enjoy regardless.

"(y/n)." the very familiar, sultry yet aggravating voice says the moment you step out of the cafe.

"oh my god!" you jump, clutching a hand over your heart that skipped a beat. it's immediately followed with a glare towards atsumu. "what the fuck, miya? you don't just come up to people like that."

"sorry." atsumu apologizes but his nose scrunches at the word. "nah, not really. didn't know how else to get to ya."

"so you had to find me at my job?" you raise an eyebrow in disbelief.

he shrugs. "yer really not leavin' me with any other choice."

"what are you on about?" you roll your eyes as you take a sharp left, carefully exhaling out. the street is nearly deserted now that the sun sunk past the horizon, leaving only the street lights and the moon to illuminate what would be a pitch black scene. puddles of water are scattered along the walkways, remnants of the downpour that occurred earlier in the day. you had clocked out later than usual, and the next flash of rain is predicted to fall within the next few minutes. you want to get back to your dorm before the worst of it happens.

"ya know what i'm talking about." atsumu huffs. "yer clearly avoiding me."

your shoulders tense when he brings it up, and you pray that atsumu doesn't catch it. "i'm not." you lie, your heart speeding up.

"yer a shit liar. i hope ya know that." atsumu shuts you down right then and there. the fact he's able to makes you wince. that's one of the many bones you have to pick with him. he can always see right through you, and it allows him to get under your skin easily since he knows exactly what to say if he wants to get a reaction out of you.

it's because of that reason that you've been avoiding him. you know yourself well enough that if you were to stand face to face with atsumu miya as you are now, he'd figure out the secret that you've been hiding for two weeks.

atsumu presses his lips together, sighing once he realizes that all he'll get from you from this point forward is silence, but he tries his luck anywayy. "can we talk?"

you let his question fizzle out in the air, continuing down the sidewalk as atsumu follows by your side. the first drops of drizzle fall onto your hand and cheek. atsumu feels them too.

"look, it's gonna rain soon. could ya at least let me take ya home? yer gonna get soaked." atsumu gently reaches out for your hand. the sudden contact and its spark of heat makes you jump. instinctively, you yank your hand away from him. your widened eyes snap towards him, and shame washes over you. maybe the street lights are playing tricks on you, but you swear there's a flicker of hurt in his gaze. you turn away from him because you can't bear the sight of it.

"are ya mad at me? did i do somethin' to upset ya?" atsumu continues.

no, you answer in your head. you can't trust yourself to say it out loud without betraying anything else. it's not that.

"(y/n), please. talk to me." atsumu pleads. you don't think you've ever heard such desperation in his voice before. you've never seen him so raw. it's almost enough to break you, but you refuse to let go the threads of your resolve. the rain is picking up; it's cold as it soaks the threads of your clothes.

"princess." atsumu throws in as a last ditch effort. you know it is because it's the one nickname that gets you riled up the most. it sparks a reaction that atsumu knows will get you talking, but unbeknownst to him it's not for the reason he expects. he wants you to snap with anger, but all your heart does is ache. all it does is melt you into putty in his hands.

"don't call me that." you finally come to a stop, turning so that you can face him, defeat in your gaze. atsumu's blond locks are beginning to lose volume; they stick to his forehead as droplets continue to fall. his hoodie is littered with small, dark stains, a physical consequence of the rain.

"oh now i got yer attention." atsumu scoffs, poking his tongue into the inside of his cheek.

"miya." you warn, voice shaking. he ignores it.

"yer not being yerself, and ya haven't been for the last two weeks." he tells you as if you don't already recognize it yourself. "what's goin' on with ya?"

"nothing!" you deny. "i'm fine!"

atsumu rolls his eyes. "cut the crap, princess."

"seriously, stop calling me that!" you spit back at him.

you're shivering. you can't tell if it's because of your cold, wet clothes or your frustration that keeps reaching new levels. you can sense it; you can sense that your heart is about to claw itself out of chest and dump itself onto the feet of atsumu miya. your hand fists the fabric of your soaked shirt as if to keep it in.

"then tell me what's wrong!" the blond in front of you demands, running a hand through his hair. his voice projects over the brutal force of the rain.

you grimace. that's the one thing you can't do, especially since it involves him. you bite your tongue, hiding your face so that atsumu doesn't see the glassiness of your eyes. "miya... please drop it." you ask him pathetically.

"why?" he pries. this is the other issue with him. he's so damn stubborn to the point that it's infuriating. atsumu miya never backs down until he gets what he wants.

"because it's you!" the first wave of tears break free. they cascade down your cheeks, mixing in the stream of rain on your cheeks; all while your hand remains pointed at atsumu. "because i fell for you!"

atsumu shuts his mouth, going completely silent. you shake your head, laughing bitterly. "i bet you didn't expect that, did you? believe me, i didn't either. day in and day out all we've ever done was argue so i don't know how this happened. i don't know why i have these feelings for you."

wiping your face is a futile attempt yet you still do it anyway. a sob gets caught in your throat, and you choke on it. "i can't stop thinking about you. i can't be near you without my heart attempting to leap out of chest. and so yeah, i've been avoiding you miya, and it's because you've made me so damn weak."

your stare finds atsumu's. you can't get a read on him, but you don't have to second guess that he can see the pain swirling in your eyes. it's so humiliating that even now the first thing that crosses your mind is how good he looks even as you feel your heart being torn apart. his hair is completely stuck to his forehead. his blond ends that are soaked through and through drip their excess water onto his face. you want nothing more than to brush them out of his line of sight, but you can't. you fight that desire by balling up your fists.

"so please just leave me alone. stop trying to find me because i can't take this anymore." you beg through hiccups.

you wait for a response. you wait to see if atsumu will kick your heart aside. in an even better scenario, which is far from likely, he accepts it. you'll take either or.

but he does neither, and that's fine too. you leave atsumu by himself on the sidewalk, and your lack of presence pulls him out of his trance. he jogs to catch up to you, reaching from behind to clasp your hand in his.

"miya, let go-"

"no." he says firmly, a newfound fire burning behind his eyes, one that exceeds the one you feel on your hand. the sight makes you gulp. "ya can't just confess yer feelings for me and leave."

you chuckle weakly, trying to pull yourself free from his grasp. "i think i can."

"no, ya can't. ya didn't even give me a chance to say anythin'." atsumu argues. he doesn't relinquish the hold he has on you.

"what more do you have to say? you don't feel the same, and that's fine-"

"could ya stop assuming things?! i never even said that." atsumu squeezes your hand ever so lightly in frustration. "and by the way, i'm not gonna leave ya alone. i'll follow ya to the edge of the earth if i have to."

you're still crying at this point, and atsumu's words are only making you more upset. "why?! why are you so fixated on me?! why can't you just-"

"because i'm in love with ya!"

in that moment, you swear the rain stops in its place, suspended in the air. surely, you must've been hearing things wrong. atsumu miya, the guy who has everyone dancing to the tune of his hand, is- no that doesn't even sound right. how could he possibly-

"god, i've been in love with ya for so long." atsumu laughs, like it's a relief to finally get it off his chest. "but ya nearly ripped my heart to shreds over these past two weeks."

atsumu squeezes your hand before letting it fall to your side. his own flex by his side as if to hold himself back. "(y/n), ya can insult me to yer heart's content if that's what makes ya happy, but don't dodge me like i'm the damn plague. i hate it. i really do."

atsumu picks up his tear-filled eyes; it makes your own fall even faster because you realize that this hurts him. you want to apologize, but the words are backed up in your throat. your cries steal away your ability to speak.

so you pull him in, yanking him by the drenched fabric of his hoodie and closing the distance between you two. your lips crash onto his, praying that this action is enough for him to understand. it takes a moment for atsumu to react, he's unmoving against you, and once he realizes what's happening, he relaxes. his hands fly to your neck, resting one on either side as he kisses you back.

it's carnivorous. he kisses you like he's been deprived of you. you feel how badly atsumu's been wanting this, how long he's been waiting for this day. you can barely keep up with his hunger. it's hot enough to overpower the chill that comes with the rain beating down on both of you. you'd kiss him forever if you could, but your lungs are begging for air.

when you pull away, atsumu's eyes reveal that he's in a daze, a happy one, like he just came back from soaring through the clouds. his damp hair presses onto your forehead as you both catch your breaths.

he pulls back. atsumu wears a soft grin as he admires you, even though you probably look like a wet dog. one of his hands find their way up to your cheek. you look at him expectantly. "(y/n), i want all of ya. i want yer stubborn ass attitude and yer insults. i want ya to be the only person who can bring me back down to earth. i want yer smiles and all yer laughs. i want to continue lovin' ya." he professes with complete certainty. his flowery words make you beam so brightly that it makes your cheeks hurt.

"i'll give you all of that and more." you swear. "but miya, i need you to kiss me again."

"oh? it seems like i got myself a needy princess." atsumu smirks, but he's already leaning in.

"shut up."

"gladly." atsumu agrees, pressing his lips to yours, smiles on both your faces.

you catch the flu the day after, and so does atsumu. but man, it is so, so worth it.

[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 lightly rub up and down your back, 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 winter break 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 December, and I’ll come back to the dorm when they open on the new year.”

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!

[neodazed]

enhypen -🎀- squirting for them for the first time

ot7xfem!reader - when they make you squirt for the first time

warnings: unprotected sex, fingering, oral (f), cum eating, overstimulation, pussy slapping, slight daddy kink, lmk if i missed smth

alr started writing this when I saw recent similar fics for enha but there’s like a hundred of these here so don’t think that’s an issue

my sunki fics flopped so bad i went back to writing imagines instead of my other drafts LMAO ty for more than 2k views on the last one and for 200+ followers. pls request after reader my post regarding that, i’d love to see and write ur thoughts!! have fun reading 💋 masterlist

HEESEUNG

For Heeseung it’s almost like squirting = marriage.

A new found level of possesiveness awakens in him, basically.

You’re laying flat on your back, legs spread as wide as they can go, and he is plunging three fingers inside you.

His pace is no other than harsh, not an inch of his being is trying to be gentle. To be honest, he doesn’t need to be anyway — that’s just how you like it.

Thank God you were wet, or else those ocassional spits on your clit wouldn’t be able to match the rough bones of his digits carving their well earned place in your fluttering hole. With each quick thrust, the low side of his palm bumps against your little nub, drawing a lovely whimper out of you.

He’s not leaning over your body, doesn’t press comforting kisses on your face or neck. He is sitting on his knees between your two trembling thighs, and watches your cunt gasping for his fingers hungrily.

It’s getting way too sloppy now, creating those nasty almost slurping-like sounds, and it almost makes him want to lean down and bury his mouth in there, but then again, the sight is so pretty for him.

So instead, he stares and he talks. And oh, his way of talking is dirty, all possesive. Speaking of your pussy as it was the most beautiful masterpiece hung up in his favorite museum.

Your hole clenches, tighter and more intensively than normally, and you feel a flood rushing down in your tummy, one that has you curling the tip of your toes backwards, gripping the sheets underneath you like you’re about to fell off a bridge.

You try to warn him in time, you swear. The weakest ‘Hee’ leaves your mouth, a mix of a somewhat scream and moan, and you grab his forearm, but as expected, it doesn’t make him stop, it just encourages him to increase every sensation he’s currently providing. So there’s nothing you can do when a gush of liquid spills out of you, high enough to latch onto his black fitted shirt.

His heart fucking flutters at that, pride swelling up in his chest.

‘You made that big mess for me?’

‘Only I can make you cum like that. I now that’s right.’

‘C’mon, squirt again for me. You know I’m not stopping ‘til you do.”

JAY

His head has been hitting your cervix repeatedly for some time now, his balls slapping against your ass with each stroke, shaft hitting your clit.

Absolutely no thoughts in your head, just dick dick and dick.

It’s almost like every vein was created just to brush your gummy walls with the perfect force he always settles on. He’s curved to fit right into you, and if he wasn’t, well, he carved out his place in there well enough by now.

Feeling full of him has to be the most precious feeling, talking about any of your holes. And his hands are rough, they grip and sink and have completely no restrain when it comes to your body.

It’s a release you don’t even really feel coming (maybe because he already emptied you so many times), it crashes onto you.

Your scream is one the neighbours will give dirty looks about later on, but truly, who cares in the moment? Not like he would have the strength to muffle it, or the attention, he is fixated on you.

On the way your sudden finish spurts all over his cock, his abs, his arms- he goes feral.

‘Oh my god, princess. What’d you do there?’ He laughs in amusement, his movements never stopping, just letting down from the pace.

‘You came all over Daddy’s cock? Without saying a word?’ He’s already back in full force, ignoring your whines and lightly pained whimpers, slamming into you even harder now.

‘I’m sure you can do it on command then, too. Come on, show me.’

JAKE

You already came three times.

Yet, no amount of tugging on his locks would make him lift his head up from between your shaking thighs.

See, Jake is a greedy man. Every time he gives head, he acts like a starved man who is on a strictly ‘pussy for all meals’ diet, and hasn’t eaten for weeks.

One orgasm is nothing to him. It’s like he doesn’t even notice it happened, he keeps going. Goes between munching at your folds and sucking on your clit.

Two orgasms make him hum quietly, like he’s just starting to get the taste of it.

Three? That’s a good number, but still, it’s not enough. If you managed to cum three times already, what’s stopping you from cumming one more?

That’s the logic.

And you would think the upcoming one would be just a tired suffer with minimal semen going into the mix of spit and cum, but it’s something else. He plunges his tongue deep into you, and begin to move it right there, and it almost feels like he’s flicking at your cervix.

You cry out, legs locking his head in space (not like he wasn’t glued there already). You swash right inside his open lips, on his tongue. He grips your thighs harder, and wait until you finish. When he lifts his head up, finally, it’s kinda…full of cum. Like, literally. His chin completely soaked, his nose wet, his eyelids covered too. It’s a sight for sure.

‘Baby…that was so fucking hot.’ He says in awe, blinking up at you. He’s so in love. You smile softly, though your face is going red more and more by the minute. You are still sprawled out, sticky and open, and now you feel a bit sheepish.

‘Can you clean me up, please?’ You mean with a towel. Obviously. That’s what normal people do.

But Jake’s smile turns slow. Dangerous. Still hungry.

He leans in.

You freeze.

‘Jake, wait-‘

But it’s too late. His tongue is already on your inner thigh, licking a slow stripe up to where you’re still dripping.

Then his mouth is on you again. Soft, wet kisses over the mess he made, drinking you down like it’s water after a drought.

You try to squirm away, gasping his name — but he just pins your hips down with a firm hand and grins up at you.

‘I’m just cleaning you up.” — Then, quieter — ‘Gotta take care of my girl, right?’

SUNGHOON

You were getting punished.

So how on earth was it so good?

The way he’s spanking your pussy should have made you cry a long time ago, but instead, it’s just keeps on getting…better? Sure, it hurts, how could it not? A very sensitive area, indeed, probably not made to be spanked, but…

It was the good kind of hurt. The one that kept chasing slick out of your hole after every swing on your clit. Your body is thrown between two different reactions, half squirming away, half desperately chasing the sensation.

No fingers inside, no thumb rubbing your bundle, no tongue stroking your folds — just rough, precise hits.

He is spreading you open with two fingers, but keeps them strictly there, no slipping in between. Only so that he can reach all of you, making sure it hurts enough. Enough that you realize what you have done wrong, refrain from ever doing it again. Enough so that you feel that this pussy belongs to him, and he can do whatever he wants to it.

To his surprise, it’s also enough to make you squirt.

To Fucking squirt.

One minute, he’s spanking your nasty little cunt, and you’re crying to stop, then the next, his pace has to falter, cause a flood of liquid splashes out of it.

He snorts. Not really in amusement.

‘You’re unbelievable, you know that?’ — He looks down at you with a scoff — ‘I’m trying to punish you here, and you enjoy yourself more than normally’

‘It’s just…sensitive’ You sniffle. The hurt now comes in stronger, when you are no longer getting stimulated.

Sunghoon tsk’s and pushes his dirtied digits past your tear-soaked lips. Your face crunches up from the taste, but you do your best to swallow all of it. And that fucker turns that around, too.

‘You really just slurped up all of it? Didn’t leave me anything?’

‘I-I thought-‘

‘I must take another taste, then…’

You cry out the moment his hot tongue makes contact with your red swollen clit.

SUNOO

He’s casually hovering over you, mouth on left nipple, finger rubbing your clit. The suckling and stroking movements are equally hard.

You guys’ve been at it for some time now, lazily making out, most of his energy being put into pleasuring you. You were already on the edge a couple of times but he stopped there and went back into it just to drag it out.

‘Shh, just a little more. You’re not that impatient, right?’

He earns himself an eye roll for that, but only snorts, and pushes you closer.

His bare chest presses against yours, kisses soft and deep, and it’d be romantic even, if you could forget that he’s been edging you for half an hour. He always says it’ll make your release bigger and better, but hasn’t really convinced you yet.

Until now.

Because when he finally settles on the good space, even after feeling your stomach tighten, it doesn’t take you any longer to squirt.

And, the ‘see? told you’ look on his face could not be more smug.

‘Wow. Look who was right?’

‘My new take is that I can make you squirt two times in a row. Wanna find out?’

JUNGWON

Jungwon, to put it simply, is flabbergasted when it happens.

Like, on his tongue?

Around his fingers?

Because of him?

What did he do in his past life to deserve this? Whatever it was he is one lucky mothefucker.

You couldn’t even prepare him or give him a chance to pull away (he would never), since you yourself didn’t expect it at all. The truth is, you’ve never squirted before. Orgasms with a little more force? Producing a little more cum than usual? Sure, those happened, nothing too crazy. But it certainly never splashed onto his face like a fucking cunami, Jungwon thinks.

Poor boy wants nothing but to bury himself there right away, but he's not sure if you'd want that, given that you're still shaking under him. Instead, he strokes your thighs (still around his head), and murmurs,

'That was...good, right?' He asks, voice suddenly shy like he forgot what was he doing in the first place.

'Baby...you just made me squirt into your mouth. It was more than good, trust me.' You say with a weak chuckle.

'I want to taste. Can I?' How could you even say no to that adorable pleading gaze?

'Go ahead, Wonnie. Taste how good you made me feel.'

RIKI

It was just a matter of time before your first squirt after you started having sex, you knew for sure.

Riki's ego didn't need a lift though, and since he never brought it up by himself, you just assumed he either didn't know you were capable of doing it. or he's just content with the usual five orgasms he brings you to every time you guys have sex.

He absolutely knew what he was doing to you every time, but this?

This he did not expect.

You were bouncing on his cock with your best of strength, and he was watching you with a smirk, layed back on his arms, annoying and hot as ever. He wasn't putting in too much effort, but when he did move his hips to meet your thrust, God it reached the most perfect spot without a single miss.

He made a few statements, and those were...

'Your tits are all up in my business. Just how they should be.'

'Fuck, Y/N, this pussy is squeezing me so hard. You were hungry for my cock, weren't you?'

'From this position, I'll come right onto your cervix, You're gonna be dripping so bad...'

With a rather loud cry, cum splashed out of your slick hole with a nasty sound. No thumb circling around your clit, no lips suckling on your nipples, just Riki's cock, raw and hard, all for you to fuck your little cunt on.

Of course he followed you immediatelly.

And of course, he had things to say.

'Oh. So we're squrting now?'

'Why wait a month? Were you shy to show how much you love this cock?' His finger is dipping down into your heat, bringing it to his mouth to taste.

'Riki, I'm sensi-'

'Shh. Let me see. You'll have to do it again now, anyway.'

[moldycheezeit]

Prologue

Before You read I'm letting you know again this is the first time I've ever written fan fiction so if it sucks I'm sorry. :(  This does have swearing and mentions of death and blood. Also I think I'm just going to make batsis just a mix of Nami and Uraraka b/c idk how to incorporate Mitsuri into her. And if you watch mha or one piece I'm sorry if I don't make batsis accurate to both characters, even though I've watched both shows I feel like I'll mess it up somehow.

By the time you were born Bruce Wayne and his wife, your mother, had adopted Richard Grayson also known as the first robin or Dick. Your mother was heavily pregnant at the time and about to pop. But when the birth happened about a month later something went wrong, she lost too much blood and did make it. Overcome with grief Bruce nor Dick could look at you, because they couldn’t see a daughter/sister all they would see was the thing that killed somebody whom they loved. 

This caused Alfred to be the one who had named you because no one else would, so Alfred picked the name (y/n). He can remember how much your mom loved the name. But let's interrupt the sadness if you had to talk about your run in with your so called “family” it would be like this…

Dick would talk to you but it’s not like he enjoyed or wanted to so he made excuse after excuse to get out of talking with you. Like how he’d said “ I’m sorry (y/n) but Damian asked me to help him study you know how it is.” you knew he really meant training with Damian. another lie he'd say was “oh I’m busy at the moment i'll catch you next time.” which was never.

Jason was a great brother. keyword was, when he first joined he loved to hang out with you even if you couldn’t do much because you were a toddler. When he died no one told you well Alfred tried to explain that Jason would never come back but all it did was confuse you and made you start looking all around the manor for him hoping he would appear. When he did return you were 10 and wow was he an ass. When you tried to talk or bond with him like you used to he’d yell things like “go the fuck away” or “stop being such a whiny princess” God that man got irritated easily.

Tim, well you didn’t really talk to him. I mean you tried to, he seemed to like similar things to you, like building and inventing gadgets. But all he did when you tried to talk to him was just look at you with disgust in his eyes. Well screw him too. 

Now Damian what to say about this demon you're related to. The first time you met him was when you were 16, you were 2 years older than him. And kinda excited to meet someone other than Bruce you're related to by blood. God how blind you were. Damian had walked into the library while trying to find his way around the Wayne manor.

“Oh hello I’m (y/n) you must be Damian, Alfred had said you were to arrive some time today.” you had happily said to him. But he took one look at you and had the impression of who you were. “Tch.” Was all that was said but you knew instantly he thought you were some weak defenseless bimbo.

Bruce, god how you hate being related to this man. As you could tell he practically seemed to blame you for your mothers death. Like how is it your fault, you couldn't control if she was going to live or die. Anyways the man seemed to not care for what you do and where you are. The media doesn't even know about you so why bother acting like he cares. But why do you care about what he thinks you can practically have done everything on your own. Some father he is.

Lastly Alfred. He's the man that practically raised you. He was there for you when you were younger but the older you got the more you pulled away from him. You love him but anytime you bad mouth any of you “family” he instantly defends them.  You also have to remember he serves the whole family, not just you.

YIPPIE I FINALLY FINISHED IT (≧∇≦) hopefully you guys liked it. Well thats it for rn buy :)

Taglist: @cxcilla @starslightzz @jackchanzzz

[etherealrin]

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 hello?

you would never, ever, admit to being an e-dater. those were the scum of the earth; good for nothings–and you refused to be associated with them.

bzzt.

@ 2seii: can u ft? srry if it seems random, i'm rlly curious to see what u look like

@ 2seii: if ur uncomf w it i totally understand :x

okay so, perhaps, you were talking to somebody online. but you swear it was only as friends. you'd met this "2seii" guy in a valorant match, and he completely carried the entire team, including you. you just had to add him, no way were you letting free wins slip out of your grasp! it definitely wasn't because when he had turned his microphone on, you might've blushed a bit—he had a nice voice, alright? it was just perfect: low but not forcibly so, a tinge sleepy, whilst soft and scratchy in all the right places.

@ uruser: sure ig

and all of a sudden, seishiro; he had told you that was his real name, was ringing you.

this was it, he was just one click away, and your nose would be longer than pinocchio's if you said you didn't want to see what he looked like. (you were convinced he was hot due to the voice.) you suck in a deep breath and force yourself to hit the green accept button, causing a bright light floods your monitor.

"hello?" his familiar voice fills your earbuds.

"hello? sei?" you echo in return, waiting on edge as his video finally connects.

you bite back a gasp, blinking hard when you lock eyes with him. he was majestic; exactly like how you'd imagined. was it possible that he'd actually exceeded your towering fantasies? perfectly soft white locks, huge brown eyes, an adorable confused expression plastered to his face.

hold on, he looks a little too familiar.

seishiro's face flickers with recognition as well.

"you're really pretty," he murmurs. oh god, hopefully your lighting wasn't good enough for him to catch the blush bleeding across your cheeks. "but why do i feel like i know you?"

"i get that feeling too," you reply. "give me a second..." you gasp suddenly, realization slamming into you.

"are you okay?" no, you wouldn't be fine if seishiro kept looking at you like that.

"do you know a mikage reo by any chance?" you ask him, fumbling around for your phone to confirm something.

"reo? you know reo?" sei stares at you, or at his screen—whatever.

"he's a family friend of mine."

"we go to hakuho together!"

"h-hakuho? you mean you live here?" you might have a stroke right now. seishiro was this close the entire time?

"i mean, i don't know where you live? but i'm close to the school!" he seems more animated than before, pleased with the prospect of living in the same area as you. you finally find what you're looking for, on reo's instagram account. there he was, posted up in one of reo's highlights of the many sports he did. @ 2seii was tagged, how could you have missed such an obvious connection? his user was quite literally the same!

"you play on the school football team with reo, right? i've been to a few of those games!"

"seriously?" a pause on sei's end. he looks deep in thought. "would it be a hassle to come to our next game, tomorrow? i'd get you in for free, of course." he's eyeing you hopefully now, irises pleading. you’re not really left with much of a choice.

"sure, i'll come!" you promise him, fingers shaking. you can't quite believe that you'd be meeting your little online crush—no, friend—so soon. something clatters on seishiro's end, and he shoots up in his chair.

"crap, gotta go. that's reo asking me to practice." you tell him that you understand, and he's gone, telling you to "have a good night."

reo's quite shocked to see you in the stands the next day; he hadn't asked you to come, and you couldn't possibly be that supportive of him to show up. his questions are, however, answered rather obviously for him seconds later when seishiro, someone who was normally late to pre-game warm ups, jumps up to wave at you.

seishiro scores a shocking number of points that afternoon, a season-high for him. what's got the slacker prodigy so motivated? your presence.

"did you see me?" he practically runs to you in the stands after the last whistle is blown.

"yup! you were amazing, sei!" you give him a cheeky thumbs up, grinning. "are you good at everything? that's so unfair—just pick one! you have to be either a loser and cracked at video games, or a hottie who's good at sports!"

"you think i'm hot?"

oops.

so yeah, to all of your friends and reo who had asked, you didn't e-date seishiro. no way! your relationship hadn't even been online, technically you'd "met" him on multiple occasions!

a/n: forget tinder just download valorant and act confused in voice chat… also i’m convinced nagi would have some type of username like killua#0000 or gojo#balls 😹 + NO HATE TO ANY EDATERS THIS IS PURELY FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES!

ılılılılılılı now playing: hello? by clairo, your eyes only by enhypen, 20 min by lil uzi vert

masterlist!

[bernardsbendystraws]

𝐍𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐀𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 — 𝐌.𝐒.

synopsis: Matt hates himself for hurting you.

warnings: ANGST , crying, and more.

ʚ with love and big tits, Rose ɞ

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Your chest ached hearing his dry and rushed responses every time you tried to ask him about his day. The pores on your skin had begun to feel sore from being so touch starved. 

You had decided that today was the day. There was no energy left to be sucked out of your body anymore—you needed him to understand how you were feeling. 

But, you hadn’t expected this. 

Matt had come home late, a tired sag of his eyes tugging at your sympathy for him. You had made dinner fresh, later than usual so you’d be able to eat with him. However, his phone sat in front of his plate as he scrolled through TikToks. The short audios filled the room along with light scratches of silver forks on the ceramic dishes. 

You had lost your appetite to say the least. Grabbing your plate still heavy with the plucked food, you took Matt’s empty one, setting them by the sink to deal with in the morning. Your shoulders sagged heavily with a depressed sigh. 

“Matt, can we talk?” you ask. 

He hums, not shifting his gaze from his phone. But, you could tell he didn’t even listen to the question as a new audio sounds through his phone with the swipe of his thumb. 

You love him—-you really fucking love him. You can’t let him go, you just need him back. The heavy devastation in your chest was weighing you down harder and harder each day—-each time his eyes stayed glued to emails instead of you. 

“Matt.” you huff out, your throat already feeling slimy and constricted. 

His gaze shifts up to you finally, but somehow it gets worse. 

He rolls his eyes, noticing your angry eyebrows laced with a serious look. Tossing his phone down gently on the table, he shakes his head.

“What? Why are you fuckin’ looking at me like that? Do you know the day I’ve had—” 

You let out a hurt breath of air sharply. Not one word of your feelings had escaped and he already shoved your heart further down with gravity. 

“I…can we just talk? I know the day you’ve had, I—”

His chair screeches as he pushes back to stand up. Running a flustered hand through his hair, he waves his hands in the air before letting them slap onto his thighs. 

“Great, my lovely girlfriend know I’ve been running around meetings all day and still wants to fuckin’ lecture me. You—” he stalks beside you. You hear the plates you had just sat down shuffle against the counter. “---you don’t even eat the food I work for us to buy. What the fuck is your—”

Your hand slaps down on the counter. Shooting him a pointed glare, you see his jaw click as his piercing eyes scowl into yours. The anger makes you soften as hot tears brim at your eyes. 

“My problem? Matt, I get that you’re busy. Trust me, I’ve tried holding this in,” you huff, clicking your tongue in your mouth as you shake your head. “--I can’t. I can’t do it anymore. I…I just need you to—”

“Need me to what, huh?” His voice is louder, harsher as he closes the distance. He stares down at you as his nose scrunches with disgust. “You can’t do it anymore? You're done the second I can’t drop everything for you, huh? Fuck you—”

“You can’t talk to me like that!” you screech. 

Anger covers your sadness, but the tears fountain down your cheek out of pure frustration. Heavy breaths leave your mouth as you see his eyes widen with furry.  

“Get your finger out of my fucking face. I swear to god,” 

You don’t let him finish. Instead, you whip towards the bedroom. Marching forward, you ignore his yells. You can’t hear him through the seething anger buzzing in your ears. “---you’re not even listening, Matt! I’m not doing this right now if you’re not gonna—” 

His hand grasps on your shoulder, whipping you back around to face him. The pure rage in his eyes makes your anger burn into sadness. You pound on his chest, pushing away from him, but his grip stays firm. 

Latching his hands around yours, he quickly whips them down. 

“Fuck!” you screech. 

While aggressively yanking your hand down, he had brutally hammered it into the side of the counter. You can feel the skin and muscles starting the swell. The stinging pain makes your chest squeeze.

Time stops. Furry shifts into a static noise. 

Dropping your hand as if he had burned you, he pulls his hands up to his chests. “I—”

“No! Fuck you!” you shout, cradling your injured hand into your chest. His sympathetic gaze and concerned expression leave nothing but a puddle of sadness as you choke on your words. “You can’t, you can’t treat me like this. You—-you hurt me. I…” you shake your head in disbelief and disappointment. 

Turning back around, he doesn’t stop you as you march into the bedroom, slamming the door shut. You launch yourself into the bed. The safe haven once created by the memories of his body intertwined with yours is tainted by your tears soaking in the pillow. 

He hurt you.

He had been hurting you—but, now—-he really hurt you. 

You can’t tell what hurts worse. Your hand is limp with a sore pain as you feel a bruise start to swell, but your heart throbs achingly in your chest. 

Cries and sobs left you dazed and falling into a sleep with one thought crossing your mind;

You can’t do this anymore. The thought of losing him hurt beyond belief, but this? This hurt so bad—and what if it just got worse?

__

Crusted tears in the corner of your eyes made Matt’s lip sting from his teeth digging into the soft flesh. He couldn’t let himself cry—-he didn’t deserve to cry. Everything had been so overwhelming, the world had felt like it had beaten him to the ground—-but, he had forced that pain onto you somehow. And that…that hurt worse than anything.

Looking at your soft and sad face, he held his breath. Air felt too refreshing. He couldn’t breathe knowing he might’ve just lost you—-he couldn’t even think of anything other than the fact that it was all his fault too. 

He decides it’s time to wake you as he pets the side of your head, easing you awake. Your peaceful expression shifts as your eyes flutter open, peeling against the crusted skin which reminds you of the ache in your heart and your hand. 

Matt’s stomach dropped watching your body repulse from his touch. His hand falls limply onto the mattress as you stare at him with sad eyes. 

“What do you want, Matt.” you say with a blank tone. 

Staring at the sheets of the bed where his hand lays barren from your skin, he shakes his head while shutting his eyes tightly. 

Why couldn’t it all just be a bad dream? 

“I…I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you—-”

“But you did.” you spit, hurt reeking from your shuttered voice. 

Matt huffs, looking up at you with his head tilted. 

“I know, I….I am so sorry, sweetheart.” He reaches out, clasping your uninjured hand in his. As he recoils from his touch, he clears his throat, trying to pull his attention away from his tearful eyes. 

“You have to believe me. I never meant to hurt you at all. I see how awful…how awful I’ve been to you. You…” his eyes shift to your hand then back to your eyes. “---you don’t think I’d ever hurt you on purpose like that, do you? I swear—”

“I never thought you’d hurt me at all, Matt.”

His mouth parts as he freezes. Neither of you breathe, the air is too thick and the gravity seems to get heavier and heavier. 

At all. 

Those words ring in Matt’s head as his face shifts from saddened to fearful. 

At all. 

He was never supposed to hurt you at all. 

But he had. 

Your heart was wounded, your soul was damaged. On top of that, your hand was swollen and bruised from his actions—his doing. 

“I…Fuck—I’m sorry, just give me a minute.” 

Matt rushes out of the room. You stare blankly as he storms out, listening as you hear the front door shut. 

He’s gone, but it didn’t feel much different than when he was here. 

Clutching your hand further, you debate getting up to get ice. The thought fades as your body protests and sinks further into the bed. 

You felt useless. 

You felt defeated. 

__

Matt wasn’t always the type to ask for help. Especially when he made a mistake—a dumb one at that. 

You were aware of this. Surprise and shock had rushed through your depressed body as Chris walked into the bedroom with an ice pack. 

He knew. Matt had told him everything. Chris had always had a gift for being able to comfort people through tough times. He had demonstrated this a multitude of times. Even when you had most recently struggled with a hard situation at work. 

Matt wasn’t aware—or maybe he just didn’t care. It was about a month ago. On top of your depleting energy surrounding your boyfriend, HR had ignored you about a creepy coworker. Just like Matt—you felt as if you didn’t matter to anyone. 

Nick was always good at distracting people to cheer them up, not so much sympathizing. Chris had no issue with this. In fact, he read you like a book. You had turned down his offer to play video games, something you always wanted to try and do to get better at playing with Matt.

He just knew. 

He knew you weren’t okay and he knew how to help you. You needed someone to listen and he was there. You need someone to care—he was there. Chris had always felt like family to you and so had Nick, but something about his arms made you feel like a child again. 

His arms replicated the same comfort you had gotten from your close family. No blood was shared between you and Chris, but something in your souls allowed your heart to be raw to him. 

“Talk to me,” he said. 

And you did. You told him about the past couple months as he held the ice pack to your hand, simultaneously holding the limb comfortingly as you choked up on endless tears. 

Raw emotions crumbled into his lap. He clenched his jaw, failing at blinking back two drops puddling from his eyes. 

He knew Matt too. He knew Matt didn’t ask for help. He knew that was why Mat had been so overcome by everything. 

He knew that Matt was losing you. Selfishly, he worried about losing you too. But, his top concern made his heart pulsate painfully. 

The thought of you and Matt breaking ties was heavy—especially for him.

He couldn’t fathom a lot of your relationship, but he knew it was true love. Something about your presence made Matt more himself—and as his brother, he would be heartbroken to see that disappear. 

Chris noticed how Matt practically galloped on his own happiness if he was successful at making you laugh. The brother saw how his loved one felt completely at ease when you would run your fingers through Matt’s scalp. He had worshiped your relationship—promising himself to never settle for less than what you had shown him. 

How was he supposed to believe in true love if this was it for you two? If it was over—what was the point? Why was love good if it hurt two of the people he most cared about? 

He left the room with a heavy heart as Matt texted him he was ready to come in and talk with you. 

He hoped it wasn’t the end. 

He also prayed you didn’t hope it was the end too. 

__

Stumbling into the room with a tight jaw, Matt sat on the edge of the bed with his hands in his lap. He tried looking over at you, but as his heart clenched—he just couldn't. 

“I…I’m so sorry. There is no excuse, I can’t even—-” he swallows thickly as his stomach churns. “--can’t even begin to explain how sorry I am. You’ve deserved none of this. You…I haven’t been asking for help. I let everything pile up and I—I took it all out on you and I’m…fuck,” his eyes shift over to you. The pale overhead light shines on his glistening eyes as he blinks furiously. “I’m so sorry. I…”

His mouth falls open silently. Shifting his gaze back towards his lap, he huffs out. Your ears perk at the shakiness of his breath. 

“Please. Please say something.” he pleads quietly. 

Fighting back against your quivering lip, you twiddle your hands in your lap. You flinch as the bruise contracts sorely. 

He hurt you. 

He hurt you so bad. 

Your mind and your heart bicker for your conscious thoughts, both failing as you puddle your thoughts into a jumbled mess. 

“I don’t know what to say, Matt. You were never—-I never thought you’d be able to hurt me like this. I….it hurts so bad. I just—I can’t take this anymore. My body hurts, my heart hurts, everything hurts. I just….you can’t treat me like this.” you let out a shaky breath, inhaling sharply as you fight against the lurch of nausea in your throat. 

Matt’s shoulder freeze. His whole body seems to stop any functions of living.

He never imagined losing you until he rushed out the door. But, even then—he couldn’t have even imagined the feeling ripping through his chest right now. 

“I…I want to forgive you, I just can’t. Not—not now at least.” you say. 

The ripping halts to a slow tear.

A glimpse of hope turns his head as he glues his eyes to your face. 

“I…I hate myself for hurting you.” he says, breaking completely as a rush of tears fall down his face. 

You go to reach forward, your heart lurching to comfort him. As your arms wrap around him, he goes stiff, letting out a loud trail of sobs. Each break in his cries leaves your heart wrenching as he sobs again after a harsh breath. 

“I…don’t hug me, I don’t deserve it. Please, just—”

“I need this too, Matt. Please. I—I need this.” you express. 

He turns towards you, enveloping his arms around your shoulders as his body racks against yours. 

Hope is found through his cries. The distress melts with a challenge of reason. 

He still cares. 

“Please don’t hurt me again. I….I can’t, Matt.”

His sobs choke louder as he clutches onto you tighter. 

“I’m—never. Fuck, never again, I’m so sorry. I—I’ll make it up to you the rest of my life—-I—I—” he stutters in his cries. 

Tears soak into both of your clothing. Your body feels hot as you shove your face into the crook of his neck. However, you let a thin layer of sweat build on your forehead, unable to detach yourself from him. 

He starts to calm down as your own tears roll to a stop. You’re both spent emotionally. 

“I’m so sorry, baby.”

“Never again—never.”

“I love you so much.”

His affirmations cure a soothing coolness of your burning heart wounds. Snot and mucus along with the worn clothes makes you shift uncomfortably.

“You okay, baby?” he asks, his hand delicately moving to clutch onto the back of your head. 

“I…yeah. Just—feel gross.” you say.

Matt pulls away, wiping your tear stains away softly from under your eyes. 

“Can I….can I run a bath for you?” he asks. 

You nod, following as he grabs ahold of your hand and guides you to the bathroom. He drops your hand as he bends down the plug the tub and runs the water, grabbing it as soon as he stands back up. 

“Bubbles? Salts? What sounds good, sweetheart?” he questions, knowing your typical use of bath products. 

You shrug, unable to even think about the question. Matt tugs his lips to the side. 

“Hold on, I’ll get everything ready, okay? Just give me your clothes and I’ll put them in the hamper.” he softly says, pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

As he pulls away, you start to strip off the clothes on your body. You hear him shuffle around, seeing glimpses of him dumping products into the bath water. Shivering, you step closer to the bath steam. 

“Candle okay?” he asks. 

Nodding you watch as he lights the candle. The smoke aroma wanders to your nose as he sets it on the counter. He flicks off the light switch, allowing the flickering flame to dimly light up the room. 

“It’s all ready, get in and I’ll throw your clothes in the hamper.” he says, collecting the pile of your worn outfit in his hands as he quickly walks out of the bathroom. 

Stepping in, your skin immediately relaxes from the warm water. You rest your head on your propped up knees, letting your hands dance over the surface of the water and admire the bubbles. 

It all smells so good—-it all feels so relaxing. 

But, you can’t help but feel needy. You need the reassurance of his skin. 

Matt walks back into the bathroom, frowning as he sees your pouted lips. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” he asks, walking over. 

He sits on the edge of the tub and caresses his hand over your shoulder. You lean your head onto his hand, focusing on the warmth of his skin. 

“Hey,” he soothes. “--talk to me.”

You look up at him with sad eyes. He tries to analyze your face for an explanation. Your lips and voice are unwilling as you try to think of any sort of words to express what you want.

Reaching out, you tug on his shirt. Matt follows the gesture, his eyebrows furrowing before he looks up at you with a plundering look. 

“Do you want me to come in? Is that it?” he asks.

You nod. He pats over your hand. Standing up, he quickly strips off his clothes. He steps in the bath water behind you, lowering himself to sit with his legs caging around you. 

“Ugh,” your mind finally silences from rushing thoughts as you lean against his chest. 

“Better?” he questions.

Nodding your head and letting it fall to the side, you curl tighter against him as his lips litter soft kisses on your neck. His arms swarm around you, pulling you closer as he leans his chin to rest on your shoulder. 

“I love you. I…I’m never letting anyone hurt you ever again—not even me.” he says sadly.

The claim eases your heart into a calm pace. Dull soreness of your hand and your chest fade from your mind as you listen to his delicate words. 

“Never.” he repeats, leaning the side of his head further onto yours. 

[delswine]

LET'S CLARIFY THE COMMENTS 𝄒 ⸝. P. SH

the thing is, you couldn't even imagine how Enhypen's visual Sunghoon, who made millions fall in love with him, would react when you gossiped with your idol friends about his sex life.

"you seem to know too much, baby."

ᆢ ۢ pairing: arrogant¡idol¡dom!sunghoon × bratty¡idol¡sub!f.reader

contains some members of enhypen, aespa, le sseraphim, ive.

ᆢ ۢ genre: smut (MDNI) with a tiny plot.

ᆢ ۢ warning: strangers to smth, unprotected sex (nope, not for you babe), spitting, hair pulling, pet names, dirty talk, reader is down bad, some praising, oral (f&m rec), teasing, overstimulation, hickeys, fingering, slight choking, begging, manhandling... may contain more, lmk if i missed.

ᆢ ۢ notes: well, my little braincells, this is my first on tumblr so don't judge me plz. and this girl is not a native english speaker, fyi. hope you enjoy?? (plz enjoy or i'll kms)

more undercut!

you leaned forward slightly as you brushed your waist-length hair out of your eyes, continuing your speech that had caught the girls' attention as if you were going to tell them a secret. "don't he seem like a sub? sure, he may be handsome, but he's so cold and arrogant. god, I swear on my soul that his dick is small!"

well, those weren't exactly well-supported thoughts. more like- more like the hatred you spewed at Park Sunghoon for not even having his number. who could've blame you? Park Sunghoon was arguably the most cold and apathetic one in the industry among idols. if any idols topic came up while talking to girls, at least one of them would definitely have hung out with that person, but Sunghoon? nope, not even a chance. he refused to talk to any female or male idol who asked for or contacted him for his number, distancing himself from everyone with that condescending look on his face.

and you... you wanted him, god damn it, you wanted him so bad. Sunghoon fucking you was something that had been haunting your dreams lately. while you can have all the male celebrities you want wrapped around your finger, it was making you angry that you didn't even have Park Sunghoon's number. when you asked him he said he wasn't interested. to you! who could say no to you?

and here you are, venting your anger at Sunghoon for no reason and without him even knowing it by belittling him and starting rumors.

Wonyoung sipped her drink while laughing lightly. “you really have a grudge against him, he’s not actually that arrogant. he’s just cold. you're just mad because he didn’t give you his number, y/n.” Giselle couldn't help but tease you. "our queen bee got rejected for the first time in her life! let's get a depression blanket and a jar of nutella for miss y/n!" you let out a frustrated breath and leaned back. you looked at sunghoon’s face a few tables away and spoke sarcastically.

“i’m sure he’s a virgin and gay or something. and i’m not depressed or anything, Gigi. i could have a line of guys at my door if i wanted to. his loss.”

—

well, fuck the loss. you're the one who is losing. every time that man performed on stage, you felt like you were going to explode. how could a person look so flawless? you wanted to beg to get under the man you were raving about just a few minutes ago.

as you focused on the song to distract yourself from thoughts about Sunghoon, you curiously took the paper that an staff had reached out to you. he wasn't part of your group's crew, so you could tell the paper was from another idol. you tucked the paper in your pocket so the fans wouldn't think anything of it.

a few minutes later, when the performance was over, you got up from your seat and went backstage to go to the bathroom. as you walked to the bathroom among the rushing staff, you took out the paper from your pocket.

"you will come to my waiting room after the show ends to clarify your comments about my small dick."

as an angry and confused laugh spilled from your lips, you didn't even think about going. why would you listen to him?

and yes, your thoughts didn't seem to matter because you found yourself in front of Sunghoon's personal waiting room after the ending ceremony.

even though you came here, you were just standing in front of the door, not knowing what to do. as you debated with your thoughts between knocking on the door, going straight in, and turning back, you felt a shadow rising from behind you.

Park Sunghoon.

as you turned your head slightly to look at him, Sunghoon walked past you and opened the door, not even bothering to look at your face. he spoke with firm and demanding tone, leaving the door open behind him. "come in and close the door."

while you entered inside, doing as he said, without knowing the reason, Sunghoon took off his tie, which was part of his stage costume, in front of the table with his back to you and left it on the table. once he had taken off his jacket and was left with a white shirt hugging his muscular upper body, he turned to you. he walked towards you and spoke in a cold voice as he unbuttoned the cufflinks of his shirt and folded one of his sleeves.

"it's surprising you're not still on your knees."

you were taken aback. your eyebrows furrowed slightly, and your lips parted in surprise. as you searched for your voice that you thought you had escaped into, Sunghoon spoke once more. there was now only a step between you.

"what's with this reaction? wasn't that the reason you made those know-it-all comments about my dick because you wanted it deep inside all your holes?"

you tried to focus on forming sentences without stuttering. you were embarrassed that your voice sounded so weak. "what are you talking aba-" Sunghoon grabbed your chin, pinching your cheeks between his fingers, causing your lips to pucker as he leaned over you. he spoke in a sarcastic tone while raising one eyebrow. "did I say you can talk? on your knees."

the feeling of wetness in your panties made you feel humiliated as your hands trembled slightly. as you looked into Sunghoon's eyes with a slightly timid but eager gaze and didn't even attempt to kneel down, Sunghoon let out a deep breath. his hand reached your throat and squeezed lightly, taking your breath away as he pushed you hard against the door behind you and leaned on you. you placed your hands over Sunghoon’s as a small groan escaped your lips from the pain in your back. he didn’t completely take your breath away, just made it a little harder. "we both know that what you said was just to piss me off and provoke me to fuck the brat out of you. now, you'll get what you wanted. on your knees. if you make me say it one more time, i'll overstimulate and edge you for hours."

when Sunghoon’s hand left your neck, you swallowed and fell to your knees, biting your lip lightly. he was right, this was what you wanted. now you could show him what he was missing at first, then leave him begging you to continue.

"you know what to do."

your hands found the waistband of Sunghoon's pants. you undid his belt first, then the button, and pulled down the zipper. you pulled down his pants and hooked your fingers into the waistband of his boxers. as you raised your eyes and looked down at him, you saw Sunghoon unbutton the top buttons of his shirt. when he looked at you with dark eyes, you looked away and pulled out his not erect cock from his boxer. the big dick in front of you, even when not erect, was proof that what the things you were saying would soon go into your ass. besides being huge, it was also mouthwatering.

you turned your eyes to Sunghoon once more and parted your lips, taking the tip of his cock into your mouth. no reaction.

you started to caress the dick with your hand, then took it into your mouth and started sucking it. no reaction.

you wrapped your tongue around him, running it over his veins. no reaction.

even though you had made his cock semi-hard, Sunghoon continued to look at you without even the slightest moan. when you got angry and touched it your teeths lightly, Sunghoon hissed lightly and grabbed you by the hair. he pulled your head back and leaned over you. "you're pushing your luck too much. open your mouth."

before you could swallow the saliva that spilled from his mouth to your mouth, Sunghoon pushed his dick into your mouth with the help of his hand in your hair. your hands quickly found Sunghoon’s thighs as he moved your head back and forth, moving his waist at the same time and started to fuck your throat. you digged your nails into Sunghoon’s skin as you rolled your eyes at him once more, letting out a meaningless moan because your mouth was full. even though you felt like you had won a victory when you heard a soft groan from Sunghoon who was looking at you, what had happened to your plan to leave him alone? as you watched with lustful eyes from below as Sunghoon threw his head back and moaned, every time you tried to pull away and leave him, Sunghoon would push your head back down onto his cock.

"nuh-uh, you're going nowhere baby. you'll take it just like you wanted."

you stared at him desperate as your eyes filled reflexively under Sunghoon’s harsh thrusts. the fact that you were enjoying this made you feel humiliated. you had created a pool in your panties while sucking the cock of a man who was using you shamelessly.

Sunghoon’s moans filled the room and the words he used made you want to suck him even more. "fuck, yes- just like that. take it like a good girl.. ah, look at your eyes.. you're enjoying this, don't you?"

Sunghoon pulled back as your hot seed formed a web in your throat. you fell onto your hips, out of breath, and pressed your hand to your lips. grabbing your chin and forcing your angry gaze into his own eyes, Sunghoon grinned. "you seem to have lost the bet on your soul. c'mere."

Sunghoon easily manhandled and lifted you up, grabbing you by your waist. he grinned as he pulled you closer to him. his free hand slid under your skirt and caressed your skin, dangerously close to your pussy. your hands quickly move to his shoulders, applying a weak and reluctant pressure to push, while Sunghoon’s hand quickly reaches your clothed clit. contrary to his calm demeanor, you quickly broke apart and moaned, letting out a shaky breath. Sunghoon grinned at the wetness he felt through your panties as he moved his fingers in circles over your clit. he mumbled between your messy moans.

"sub under the handsome face, huh? at least you have the decency to admit that you think i'm handsome."

your legs trembled as his two fingers pushed your panties aside and entered your warm cunt without warning. you felt like you were going to fall, but Sunghoon’s hand on your waist kept you upright. he leaned down and whispered in your ear as he started to move his fingers rapidly, turning you into a moaning mess.

"beg."

your lips parted quickly, Sunghoon hadn’t even done anything to turn you on this much yet but you couldn’t resist. you were absolutely nothing when it comes to Park Sunghoon.

"p-please, god- fuck.. please do so-something.."

Sunghoon's eyebrows rose as he smiled. as his fingers in your pussy sped up, he looked at you mockingly, and spoke. "well done, but not enough. you should try harder, honey." his thumb rubbing your clit roughly, leaving you breathless once again. you were digging your nails into Sunghoon’s arms as your eyes filled with arousal.

"fuck- i'm so s-sorry, i'm so-fuck- i-i won't lie again! please-Sunghoon please make me cum!"

Sunghoon's eyes filled with pleasure as he sped up his fingers, giving you the movement you needed to cum. you stood on your tiptoes, your moans filling the room as you came, legs shaking from the hard thrusts inside you. your head fell back, your eyes rolling back in pleasure.

the moment he thought you could open your eyes again, Sunghoon lifted your head and pressed his lips to yours. after a passionate kiss, he pulled back and pointed to the couch behind him. "strip and lie down, baby. we're not done yet."

after getting rid of your clothes, when you reached the couch with an empty mind and lay down, Sunghoon quickly found his place on you and settled between your legs. he grabbed your ankle and pressed his lips gently against your skin to leave a few kisses on your calf. sweet whimpers escaped your lips until his lips reached your thigh, leaving light marks with bite marks on your legs.

you wouldn't have to think twice to realize that if you weren't an idol, Sunghoon would have left his marks all over your body.

when Sunghoon’s lips found the lips of your pussy, your back tensed up quickly, you grabbed Sunghoon’s hair with a moan as you jumped like a spring. your grip on his hair tightened and your moans got louder when Sunghoon started making out with your pussy without waiting.

Sunghoon’s grip on your hips tightened as you tried to get out of his grip while your tearful moans continued. you try to keep your voice down by pressing your lips with one hand, while your other hand is still on Sunghoon's hair. you could feel Sunghoon smirking at your reactions as he tongued your clit, ignoring the harsh tug on his hair.

"shit-so good.. ngh- please d-don't stop--"

you felt your body rush into relaxation, pressing Sunghoon’s head into your hips as you dug your nails into his scalp. when Sunghoon lightened his grip, allowing you to use him, you rolled your hips towards Sunghoon’s face, grinding against his tongue. you thought it was done when you chased another orgasm filled with lots of moans and tremors.

but Sunghoon didn't think like that.

he grabbed one of your legs, lifted it up, spread your legs and aligned his dick at your entrance, sliding inside without warning. you shook as tears of pleasure flowed from your eyes, digging your nails into the seat as you shivered and tried to catch your breath. Sunghoon slowly started to move as he straightened up and took off his shirt, throwing it to the side. before you could even taste the sight of his completely naked body, Sunghoon sped up. you were making meaningless sentences as he thrust into you faster, making you cry even more.

"fuck, look how wet you are.. you're really having fun, don't you princess?" Sunghoon's voice thinned slightly between his own moans, then a deep groan escaped from his throat. "yes, god, y-yes! S-Sunghoon-!"

Sunghoon thrusts hard into your cunt, as he grips your hips tightly, leaving fingerprints on your skin. Sunghoon continued talking as the two of you’re moans filled the room. "so tight f'me.. fuck.. you're too pretty to be real." you were too messy to even hear his compliments. your neatly styled hair was a mess, your makeup was smeared all over your face, your eyes barely distinguishing a straight line.

when you felt like you were going to cum again because of Sunghoon’s fingers playing with your clit, you wrapped your arms around Sunghoon’s neck in an effort to feel close. "hnghm— s-so good-"

Sunghoon didn’t resist your grip, leaning over you and letting you hug him as he began to leave passionate marks on your neck. your sobbing was the only thing that graced the room with your moans as you filled the young man’s back with marks with your nails. when Sunghoon’s lips found yours, you felt like you could barely hold in the kiss for all the moans you were letting out.

as your body tensed as you neared orgasm once again, Sunghoon noticed it too. while your waist was constantly moving up and down on the couch, Sunghoon kept you on the couch by pressing his hand hard on your waist, erecting you and increasing his play on your clit. "d-don't stop, please, mngh— S-sunghoon-oh—fuck!" as Sunghoon grinned at your messy state, he intensified his thrusts one last time as he felt close to cumming.

you came almost at the same time as your scream of pleasure and Sunghoon’s moan as he buried himself deep inside you. while you were waiting for your breath to recover, Sunghoon must not have thought so because his fingers on your clit continued their rapid movements, slowly moving in and out of you. "use your words, baby. show me you've learned your lesson."

you moaned at the movements in your sensitive pussy as your hips wiggled to escape Sunghoon’s movements. your lips parted quickly, you spoke without thinking. "Sunghoon, S-Sunghoon-please.. fuck, i-i learned my lesson, i, i am sorry, i am so sorry, p-please slow- fuck aghmn- i won't do it again—"

Sunghoon listened to your pleads until he was satisfied, then smiled and slowed down, pulling out. before removing his fingers from your clit, he gave your swollen pussy a light slap.

as your body collapsed weakly onto the couch, Sunghoon leaned over you and placed a few gentle kisses on your shoulders. as you both caught your breath, he got off you and gently helped you clean up with a towel he had picked up from the table. it was surprising to see that the man who was pressing you down into the couch a few minutes ago was the same man who was holding your legs as if they were porcelain that would break. but you liked it anyways.

Sunghoon leaned down and kissed your waist roughly as he cleaned you up. he hummed as his hand caressed your skin. "you okay? was i too rough?"

you felt your heart beat faster as you listened to Sunghoon’s words. you swallowed hard, avoiding his intense gaze and mumbled. "it's okay, i'm okay.. i.. i rally enjoyed it.." Sunghoon smiled and left a few more kisses on your skin before cleaning you completely.

—

okay, let's start from the beginning. here you are, giving a trailer with red cheeks to your idol friends gathered at your house.

Karina said while laughing excitedly. "okay okay, just tell us, was it big?"

the girls laughed at you as you pressed your head against Kazuha's shoulder next to you, the images flashing before your eyes. another question from Rei filled the room. "was he rough? did he aftercare?"

as you shook your legs in embarrassment and anger and lifted your head, the girls must not have finished messing with you because your groupmate Inchae asked you another question. "unnie, how many times he made you cum?"

the words had just escaped your lips when you couldn't stand the effort any longer and threw the chocolate packet in your hand at Inchae.

"yes it was so good I cried because of pleasure! are you happy!?"

as the girls' teasing filled the room, you were distracted by a message on your phone. you swallowed hard as you read the message on the screen, trying to suppress your racing heart.

"be ready at 8 pm on Sunday, I need to meet my little brat properly."

[kimikitti]

Hey guys, so.... I'm back in the Arcana building again. Just started replaying the game recently. And Oh My God did the art worms come to me. It felt like coming home. I remember being a fly on the wall when this game was at its peak. Watching all the apprentice ocs and artists make incredible art and writing. It inspired me so much I created my first OC. I like to check in on all the accounts I used to follow and see how everyone's art and creative passions have evolved since then.

Jay is my oldest OC, and they are the apprentice character. I'm not gonna talk too much about them here, but if people are interested I can make a dedicated post about them.

I could go on screaming for hours about the art in this game and the characters. But I'm gonna hit you all with the highlights.

Nadia and Leona need to have wine nights together, cause OMG I think they would get along like a house on fire. (and not the fact that I have a huge crush on both of them)

Asra and Julian will always be hilarious to me on a spiritual level. Cause they are so messy, bro the draaamaaa.

Muriel deserves all the chickens and hugs.

Lucio goes in the bad boy corner until later.

Portia is my wife, I would die for her. No one can stop me.

This game should've been the sign that I am a fucking fury. Cause i swear to all things holy, I found spicy fan art I did a looooong time ago of the Star Arcana. It's bad. But i should've known.