#i would even like to know what being desirable feels like

[cherienymphe]

Jawbreaker

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: Who knew that asking your boyfriend's best friend for help with your sex life would make your boyfriend very angry...

warnings: DUB-CON, slightly toxic relationship, Rafe is mean but what else is new, dumb!reader, bimbo!reader, kook!reader

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies 

⭑

Rafe’s groans were loud above you—as they always were—and while his satisfaction made you feel good about yourself and your efforts, the tight grip he had on your hair reminded you of your shame. Truthfully, you didn’t think you had done anything shameful—you were only trying to do something nice for your boyfriend—but as Rafe had stared you down with that deep frown on his face and the slight curl of his upper lip…

You realized very quickly that you had done something very wrong.

Rafe slightly lifted his hips off of his bed, forcing the length of his cock further past your lips. All of the saliva on his length made the intrusion smooth and easy, but it also made you feel a tad gross, but you recalled what Topper had said.

“Blowjobs are…dirty work,” he’d said while rubbing the back of his head. “The messier it is, the better.”

He’d shrugged at you, and despite the way those words made you frown, you believed him. Not only was he a guy, but he was Rafe’s best friend, and so he had to know what he liked. That was what drove you to seek out Topper for help to begin with. That and the fact that Sarah had given you a firm no when you’d initially gone to her. Something about feeling weird giving you sex advice all the while knowing it was going to be used on her brother.

“It never hurts to…spit on it,” the younger blond had advised.

Sex was already wet and sweaty and involved swapping bodily fluids, but something about spit just never…settled with you. With that being said, you took his advice and did just that, pulling your lips off of Rafe’s cock for only a moment to spit on the tip. When Rafe cursed from above you, you knew that you did something right, but it seemed that it clicked for him on how you knew to do that, and he was shoving himself back into your mouth again.

“Did Topper teach you that? Huh?” he sneered from above you, lifting his hips over and over again to drive himself between your swollen lips.

It brought tears to your eyes, not because it hurt, but because it became clear early on that this was just as much a gift for Rafe as it was a punishment for you. The sound of your mouth swallowing him repeatedly was loud in the otherwise quiet room, only accompanied by the blond’s uneven breathing. Your nose almost touched Rafe’s stomach, and you made a noise deep in your throat.

Your boyfriend heard it.

“I should make you gag on it, you know that?” he breathed. “I should break that pretty little jaw.”

His hand guided your head over him, rhythmically bobbing your head over his lap, and when you stole a peek, your tearful gaze met Rafe’s even one. As your eyes met, you felt…torn. Rafe looked so pretty with his cock in your mouth. Those blue eyes the most expressive you’ve ever seen them, his pink lips parted, and his dirty blonde hair with a mind of its own. You really, really liked him seeing like this, but…

Those blue eyes weren’t just dripping with desire for his sweet girlfriend. Rafe was also angry—pissed—and although you struggled to grasp why at first, you were slowly beginning to understand. Rafe had a habit of losing his cool if some guy even so much as looked at you the wrong way, but even still, Topper was his best friend and you were his girlfriend. You were two people he trusted the most, and that was why you’d had no hesitation in being honest with him.

“...and what were you doing at Topper’s?” was what he’d asked you less than thirty minutes ago.

When he’d asked you about your day, it had sort of slipped out without you even realizing it, and your lips had parted at the realization you’d ruined the surprise. A frown had formed between your brows, and you’d struggled to come up with a lie, pulling your lip between your teeth.

“He was helping me with something.”

It wasn’t a lie, but it was too vague of an answer for Rafe’s liking, and your boyfriend had stepped closer, his face pinched as he looked between your eyes.

“What was Topper helping you with that I couldn’t help you with?”

Your lips had opened and closed, struggling with what to say to him.

“It’s a surprise,” you’d said to him in a small voice.

You’d given him a small smile, but Rafe hadn’t returned it, and that was the first inkling you felt that something was wrong. Rafe’s house was empty—his entire family out—and he’d moved closer to you, tilting his head.

“...and have you ever known me to like surprises?”

You’d thought about it for a few moments before eventually shaking your head, shoulders sagging a bit.

“No…but you will like this one,” you’d answered, perking up with a smile and gently tugging on his shirt.

Again, Rafe hadn’t returned it, and you’d started to think that he wouldn’t like your surprise, after all, but he was a guy, and Sarah said that all guys loved getting their dicks sucked. Besides, it was among the many things you’d come across on Rafe’s laptop one day, links and videos full of people—women—doing things that you’d never done with him, things he’d never even brought up with you.

While it wasn’t like you thought he’d leave you over whatever you didn’t do for him, it still left a bad taste in your mouth. Sure, Rafe told you all the time that he loved what he loved about you and that he’d kill for you—something that made you a tad uncomfortable actually—but there was something about knowing Rafe desired much more than you were actively giving to him.

Did he not think you’d want to? Or that maybe you weren’t capable?

“Well, where is this surprise that you had to go to my best friend for?” he wondered, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Here?” you’d wondered, to which he nodded. “Now?”

Again, Rafe nodded, face stony, and you gave him a soft okay.

It was clear that he hadn’t been expecting you to kiss him, gently pressing your lips to his before parting them. As you coaxed his tongue out of his mouth, you reached for his folded arms, slowly pulling them apart before letting your hands drift to the waistband of his pants. At that, Rafe stopped you, and you pulled back slightly with a frown.

You were in the kitchen, but it wouldn’t be the first time you and Rafe did stuff in some place other than a bedroom, so you didn’t think that was why he stopped you. You found out that you were right.

When your eyes met Rafe’s, he was frowning at you with a different kind of frown now, and he slowly looked between your eyes as he studied your face. Excitement buzzed through your body as he just looked at you, but when his hands tightened on your wrists, your brow twitched, and you blinked.

“I don’t care about the surprise anymore—fuck the surprise, actually. What exactly did you and Topper do this afternoon?”

His tone and his voice had you shrinking in on yourself, and this was the moment that you realized Rafe was mad. Your lips parted as he stared down his nose at you, and when his hold grew tighter, you winced.

“I… I wanted to learn how to give you a good blowjob.”

It was the first time you were sure you’d ever seen Rafe just…freeze. The kitchen grew completely silent, and the air between you felt oddly off. Your boyfriend just stared at you for what felt like a long time, and for a moment, you started to wonder if he’d even heard you. Like you, he started to open and close his mouth a few times before eventually deciding on just snapping it shut. You watched Rafe’s jaw clench, and when he swiped his tongue between his lips, his chest was brushing yours.

“Topper…taught you…how to give a good blowjob.”

He said the words slowly, and you nodded in confirmation of the statement.

“I know that’s what you like, and-.”

“So, you gave Topper a blowjob?”

“No!”

The word came out so loud that it startled you, but Rafe’s question had startled you even more. Your eyes were wide as you looked at him, and as his own words hung in the air, you realized the cause for his sour mood. The thought actually made you chuckle, because Topper had been terrified of the same thing when you first went to him.

“We didn’t do anything that you and I would do,” you sweetly told him. “He just told me and showed me what to do.”

It was practically the same words you’d said to Topper when he also misunderstood you, but oddly enough, it hadn’t seemed to calm him down. He’d still been jittery and nervous, forcing you to basically beg him for his help. Even weirder, the clarification didn’t seem to calm Rafe down either, and you watched him press his tongue to the inside of his cheek.

His gaze briefly landed on the ceiling as he nodded.

“He just…told you and showed you what to do,” Rafe repeated, and you’d been dating him long enough to notice certain patterns with his tone.

You felt yourself shrinking a bit—deflating—and tears had kissed your eyes.

“I feel like you’re mad.”

Rafe had let out a laugh, but you struggled to find the humor in the situation. When your boyfriend looked at you again, he was stepping towards you, forcing you back. He was shaking his head at you—in that way that didn’t make you feel good—and you were suddenly reminded of the times when he wasn’t so nice to you and even made you cry.

“I know…I know that it takes you a little bit longer than everyone else to catch up sometimes,” he whispered, letting your hand go to gently take your chin between his fingers. “I know that.”

You struggled to piece together what he meant by that, and when you finally did, he was already insulting you again.

“...but you went to another man to help you learn how to go down, and you’re wondering if I’m mad?”

Rafe just stared at you, brows raised, and you slowly realized that he was expecting you to say something. With the knowledge that he initially thought you cheated on him, you were starting to see how Rafe might not see this from your eyes. Both Sarah and Rafe had repeatedly told you that everyone didn’t think like you did, but you hadn’t cheated on Rafe, so you were really struggling to understand his anger, right now.

You’d done it for him.

“I just wanted to make you happy,” you’d whispered.

At those words, you watched as Rafe’s eyes glazed over, and he stared you down with a look you couldn’t place. You watched the corner of his lips curve upwards ever so slightly, and when he let you go, the blood rushed through your arm again. Your boyfriend took a step back before raising his arm in a gesture towards the stairs.

“Well, let’s go…”

You’d straightened at the shift in his demeanor.

“Show me what he taught you, and make me happy.”

That was how you found yourself on your knees with Rafe’s cock in your mouth, and his hand on your head. He was rough, but you’d expected it because Rafe often was. However, you also accepted that there was an added layer to that because he was pissed off. You’d genuinely gone to Topper for help and to do something for your boyfriend in return for all he’d done for you.

Yes, Rafe could be mean sometimes, but he always told you he was sorry and made up for it by putting a gift in your hand. He wasn’t perfect, no, but neither were you. You knew how imperfect you were, how frustrating you could be—something your parents had never failed to be honest with you about—and so you didn’t expect from him what even you yourself didn’t live up to.

Besides, Rafe was always looking out for you—at parties, at the mall, and even in your own home when you had another near miss. He was always buying you any dress you wanted, and he was more sweet than he was mean. At least, you thought so. He often ran you baths and detangled your hair and helped you pick out what blush or lipgloss to put on. He enjoyed dressing you up, and you enjoyed letting him.

Your life just seemed to flow so much easier and smoother since you started dating Rafe.

…and you’d always known you weren’t the brightest person in the room, so whenever Rafe expressed his frustration with that, you tried not to let it get to you. This time was different though. This time you’d gone out of your way to try and do something nice for him, to try and be a better girlfriend to make him happy…and he wasn’t happy.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Rafe snapped when you pulled away, letting him fall out of your mouth.

He sat up and looked down at you as you knelt on the floor, arms crossed over your chest. With one look into your eyes, your boyfriend huffed, and you bit your lip in an attempt to keep it from trembling.

“You’re being mean,” you tearfully told him.

“No shit,” he bit out, reaching for you, but you reared back.

“I just wanted to do something nice for you!”

“By going to my best friend and asking him to teach you how to suck my dick, are you crazy?”

“How else was I supposed to surprise you, Rafe? Was I supposed to take notes from all of those videos on your computer?”

A silence descended over you, and you avoided his gaze. You could feel him staring at you, and you continued to look at the wall behind him.

“Is that what this is about?” he eventually sighed.

“You like it, otherwise you wouldn’t watch it. Any of it…”

A blowjob seemed the easiest barrier to cross, but you had worried yourself a bit on how you’d ever hype yourself up into doing any of that other stuff. You’d told yourself one step at a time, but who knew that what you thought would be the easiest would cause all of this. You angrily wiped away a stray tear.

“Come here…come here,” Rafe repeated himself when you didn’t budge, reaching for you and pulling you between his knees again.

He took your face into his hands and forced you to look at him. Rafe didn’t look as angry, now, eyes softer, and he brushed his thumb along your mouth.

“If I wanted to do everything I watched then we’d be in trouble.”

He chuckled to himself, but you didn’t laugh.

“Then why watch it?” you whispered, and your boyfriend rolled his eyes.

“It’s like putting on a football game.”

“Rafe, I saw some woman getting fucked by three men at once. No way you’re comparing that to football…”

“I’m just saying…” he started, leaning in and kissing you. “It’s not a big deal and especially not enough to where you need to go running to Topper for help on our sex life.”

His hand found it’s way to your throat.

“You want to know how to make me happy then you come to me,” he lowly said against your lips. “That’ll make me happier than any surprise, you understand?”

You nodded at that, and his hand moved to your hair again as he leaned back.

“Now spit on it, baby, just like you did before.”

You did, and soon after, Rafe was in your mouth again.

His hips wouldn’t stay still as you sucked in your cheeks around him, a sound leaving your boyfriend that you were sure you’d never even heard before. The groans that left him were animalistic, and you were shocked by how much it turned you on. You didn’t think that focusing on pleasuring Rafe would be so exciting, but it filled you with something that made you feel proud.

“Use your hand,” you heard him breathe.

You recalled Topper mentioning that, and you brought your hand up to wrap around what your lips couldn’t. Rafe lifted his hips again, one hand on your hair and the other on your wrist. When he softly told you to bring up your other hand, you didn’t quite understand why until he took it and placed it under his shaft. You played with him there, and Rafe’s satisfied moan reached your ears.

You bobbed your head over him for a while, taking in the taste of him and every sound he made. He sucked air through his teeth when you flattened your tongue against his cock, dragging it along him as you continued to suck him. All the while, you progressively grew wetter and wetter, enough to almost make you feel embarrassed. When Rafe started to sit up—albeit with difficulty—confusion filled you. It only grew when he pulled you off of him, completely standing now.

He looked down at you and you looked up at him as he rested his hands on the sides of your head.

“Open your mouth for me,” he purred. “Keep it open just like that.”

On instinct, you reached out to grip the back of his thighs as he began to thrust himself into your mouth. Something about it turned you on even more, and you didn’t know why. Maybe it was the look in his eyes? You could certainly see them better from this angle, and the blue of them looked so much darker to you as Rafe watched his cock disappear into your mouth.

Maybe it was the way you could see his chest heaving, quickly rising and falling as he struggled to breathe from how you were making him feel. His button down was open, and your eyes took in the slight glisten on his chest from the sweat. Your eyes traced his skin in the low light and then eventually his hair and how it hung along his forehead, kissing the skin there.

Or maybe…just maybe…you liked the feeling of Rafe using you.

You were completely still as he fucked your mouth, keeping your lips parted and your tongue flat for him. You liked being on your knees and letting Rafe use you as a means to an end, letting him use you to chase his high that would no doubt end in him spilling himself down your throat. You could tell that Rafe liked it too, your boyfriend not taking his eyes off of you once.

The choked gasps and groans from his mouth got louder and louder, and even if he wasn’t holding your head in place, you were sure you would’ve still remained there to let him come in your mouth, ropes of warmth hitting the back of your throat and tongue as he continued to fuck your mouth through his orgasm.

Rafe stroked your cheeks as he came, his breathing slowly becoming even again, and when he moved your head, you slid your lips along his cock one last time, tongue sliding against his length and swallowing anything left behind.

“Good girl,” you heard him murmur from above you.

When Rafe bent down to kiss you, you lifted yourself a bit to help him, smiling against his lips. His hand twisted into the hair at the nape of your neck, and you moaned into the kiss.

“You were just trying to be a good girlfriend, huh,” he whispered into your mouth.

You frantically nodded at that, happy that he wasn’t mad at you anymore.

“I guess I can’t fault you for that,” he hummed. “...but I’m still going to have to kick Topper’s ass.”

[headspace-hotel]

This year has, so far, been for me a series of rapid realizations of what I have been unlearning.

I went to the library. This was a couple weeks ago. I knew I needed to read a book, fiction. I hadn't done so in over a year and it was the longest period of time I had ever gone without doing so. I made a rule: I would only pick books I had never heard of, by authors I had never heard of, and I would not do any preliminary research or even bother to look at what the book was about. I would make my decision on whether to read or not purely on my impression of the title, cover and opening lines.

The book was The Connoisseur by Evan S. Connell. It was kind of a random selection. I sat down with it in a corner of the library and straight up devoured it. I tore through the book within a few hours, without taking a single break. I was captivated. I couldn't put it down.

It is a book about a guy who buys a Mayan figurine in a knickknack shop while he's on a business trip. and becomes obsessed with pre-Columbian sculptural art. There isn't really much of a plot apart from this. He goes to sketchy antique shows, has conversations with museum curators, wealthy art dealers and forgers, and seeks to learn how to distinguish a genuine pre-Columbian piece from a fake one. It was written in the 1970's, so the views on Native Americans are antiquated and sometimes offensive, and there is the troubling thread of the very concept of looting another culture's treasures and treating them as collectibles, though the book is not without commentary on this.

All the same, it was a completely intoxicating read. The vicarious experience of becoming fascinated with a topic and having it unfold a whole world for you was ferociously gripping, and so was the intrigue of the art collecting world itself. The frauds, forgeries, smuggling, museums, academics, aristocrats, auctions and seedy flea markets. Will he ever be able to tell if a piece is "real?" Does it matter if it's "real?" Why does he want to own and possess a piece of art, and how does its "realness" affect that desire? The book leaves you not knowing what to think.

It is a book about curiosity, portrayed in the narrative as a totally unreasonable lightning bolt that strikes a man who has never been fascinated by anything and changes him forever. Why? Why does a Mayan figurine, in particular, speak to him? Why does any piece of art, or any fascinating thing in the world, speak to anyone? It is unknowable.

I went to the library again. I picked a new book using the same rules. This book was Fragile Beasts by Tawni O'Dell. Just like the last time, I was totally captivated. I couldn't put it down.

Did I have a couple major problems with the portrayal of some important aspects of the story? Yes. (It would make the post much longer to discuss.) Was I completely captured by and invested in the story for the time I was reading it? Also yes. The book braids together several very different strands-- the story of a legendary Spanish bullfighter and a wealthy American woman that he loved, two brothers stuck in an ugly family situation after their father's death in a car accident, and a rich old heir to a Pennsylvania coal mining fortune and to the sinister underbelly of her family's business.

There was a lot about baseball, which I know nothing about, and bullfighting, which I know nothing about, and I certainly don't know anything about being a teenaged boy who resents and mistrusts his estranged mother, or an aristocratic old lady who lives in a mansion and eats fancy Spanish food. It was fun to experience so much unfamiliar stuff and to care about things I wouldn't normally care about. Once again I couldn't stop reading until I had finished it.

I don't know that either book was "good," though I thought they were both well written; I just know that reading them was like being hooked up to an IV of something essential and life-giving and feeling it reanimating my body.

It had been a year since I had read any fiction, but it had been much, much longer since I had loved to read. As I became an adult I had become picky and critical about books, and developed a highly sophisticated sense of my taste and the books I considered good- which were very rare. My taste in books became so sophisticated, eventually, that I didn't like books at all anymore.

I had almost withered away from deficiency of that essential nutrient known as STORY. I'd almost crumbled myself into dust from pretentiousness! I may have been terribly wrong about the kinds of things I liked to read, on top of it. And I certainly hadn't realized that story was such an essential nutrient.

"Just entertainment" the pretentious sorts of people might say of a book they think is useless-- but what is entertainment but to absorb your mind in something, and what is absorbing your mind in a book but to experience things you would never have experienced? It expands you and makes you more complicated. It is the study of human existence itself.

Now all I have been able to think about today is finishing my work and going to the library again...

[moonriizing]

urs | p.sh (18+)

You weren't supposed to want more, but you did. What started as a casual fling became more complicated when you found yourself caught between your desire and the reality that Park Sunghoon's heart belonged to someone else.

Genre: college au, situationship, smut Pairing: Park Sunghoon x afab!reader Warnings: mature themes, explicit sexual content (18+), NOT PROOFREAD. I'll come back to do that when I can lol. Notes: 10k words. Listening to urs by NIKI. My first Sunghoon fic and it's written on a whim! lol. I wrote this instead of working on my overdue wip lol. I hope you like it! Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know them personally nor claim they would ever behave in real life like they were portrayed in this story. ALSO, if you see a similar story from a different blog for a different idol, that is me. xoxo, cal.

Enjoy~

You first met Park Sunghoon at a frat party you had no real interest in attending. It was the first night of the semester, the music was good, the drinks were flowing, and the energy was exactly what you needed. It was the kind of night that made you feel young and invincible, where bad decisions were just part of the fun. And tonight, you were on a mission: hook up with a hot guy.

It was a promiscuous mission, you knew that. And you would be lying if you said you weren’t that kind of girl because you were! But you weren’t the reckless, messy type. No, you were the smart kind of promiscuous. The kind who could have fun without losing control. You were practical about it—always sober enough to make sound decisions, always keeping your boundaries clear. Simply put, you were the best type of promiscuous.

As a college girl with ambitions, you couldn’t afford to get tangled in romance and all that commitment nonsense. Too much work. But you had needs, and fulfilling them meant nights like this—scanning the crowd for a guy who could tickle your fancy, no strings attached.

That was how you spotted him.

Tall, handsome, but oddly out of place. While the rest of the party thrived on the chaos, he stood by himself in a corner. He had a cup in his hand, but it wasn’t like he was enjoying it. He looked like he’d rather be anywhere else—his posture slouched just enough to suggest he wasn’t a part of this. He had that bored, almost irritable look on his face, the kind that made you wonder if he was only here because someone dragged him along.

You were not the type to hesitate, so you didn’t. You’d done this enough times to know exactly what you were after, and right now? You were after him.

“Is this your first frat party, or are you just too cool for it?” you asked, leaning in just enough to get his attention.

He glanced at you, his eyes flicking over your face for a second before landing on your lips, then back up to your eyes. Up close, he was even more good-looking—long lashes, sharp features, lips that curled just slightly at the corners like he was already amused by you, and a couple of beauty marks on his face that made him even more striking.

He was definitely your type.

“You look like you’d rather be anywhere else,” you added, taking a sip of your drink, not breaking eye contact.

“That obvious?” he asked, his voice low, almost melodic.

You smirked, liking the way his voice was as perfect as his looks. “You look miserable,” you pointed out, still grinning.

He chuckled lightly, amused but not exactly thrilled. “What about you? Having fun?”

You shrugged. “I wasn’t. But right now, I think I might be…” You let your gaze wander, deliberately slow, from his face to the exposed skin of his chest where a few buttons were undone.

Sunghoon smirked, his gaze trailing over you in a way that was appreciative without being too obvious. “Well, that makes two of us,” he replied suggestively.

He flirted right back!

“I’m Sunghoon,” he said, offering his hand for a shake. You took it and gave him your name.

Your eyes locked with his—now more curious, sizing him up. For a few seconds, it was just the two of you staring each other down, trying to gauge each other’s thoughts with your hands still joined. Then you saw a flicker in his eyes that made you come to an agreement with your own intuition.

You tilted your head, eyes still locked with his. “Do you wanna have sex with me?”

His eyes widened slightly, his brows lifting in surprise—visibly caught off guard by your suggestion. His grip on your hand loosened, though he didn’t let go completely. You kept your gaze steady, showing no hesitation and letting him know you were serious. A few seconds of silence passed where you almost thought he’d say no, but then he exhaled a soft laugh.

“Are you always this forward?” he asked, amused now.

You shrugged nonchalantly. “Only when I see someone I like.”

He tilted his head slightly, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “And you like me?”

“I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t.”

With that, his smirk widened, and before you could second-guess yourself, he set his cup down. “My place or yours?”

And just like that, you were out of the party and heading to whatever the hell came next. No strings, no pressure. Just the way you liked it.

You didn’t know it then, but that was when the tsunami that would come crashing in began to take shape.

You didn’t mean for it to happen again. It was supposed to be a one-time thing—fun, uncomplicated. But he was phenomenal, so it happened a second time. And a third. And eventually, you just lost count.

Maybe it was because, other than the fact that he was really good at it, he was also easy to be around. He wasn’t like the others—the ones who got clingy after a night or acted like they were doing you a favor by sleeping with you. Sunghoon was different. He never overstayed his welcome, never asked for more than you were willing to give, but he wasn’t distant either. If anything, he was… nice.

Not in a fake, trying-too-hard way. Just nice. Made you feel comfortable, always made sure you finished before he did, and never left without saying something witty that made you roll your eyes. He had this way of being detached but not cold, like he had mastered the art of keeping things casual without being an asshole.

“You know,” you mused, sprawled across his bed, still catching your breath, “my first impression of you was that you were boring and miserable. Turns out you know how to make a girl have fun.”

Standing by his closet, Sunghoon threw you an amused glance as he pulled a sweatshirt over his head. “Yeah? I aim to please.”

You smirked. “That sounds like something a guy who thinks he’s good in bed would say.”

He let out a soft laugh, running a hand through his hair before turning to you, looking almost too put-together for someone who had just spent an hour between your legs. “And? Am I not?”

You propped yourself up on your elbows, pretending to consider it. “Hmm. You’re alright.”

He scoffed, tossing a pillow at you, which you barely dodged. “You’re a bad liar.”

You grinned, stretching lazily. “Well, I can’t have you getting a big head, can I?”

Sunghoon shook his head, his lips curling into that infuriatingly charming smirk. “Too late for that.”

It was easy. Too easy. Maybe that’s why you let it keep happening.

Behind closed doors, there was no restraint. It didn’t matter if it was your place or his—once the door was closed, your hands were on his neck, his lips found your skin, and clothes barely made it past the foyer before being discarded.

Sunghoon was incredible in bed. He was controlled, precise, yet somehow still desperate when he kissed you, when he pressed you against the mattress, when he groaned your name like it was the only thing keeping him from spiraling. And you? You had mastered the art of making him unravel.

You knew exactly what made him weak, how to turn his composure into incoherence, how to make him grip your waist a little harder or breathe your name in a way that made your stomach flip. It was exhilarating, effortless—two people who just fit perfectly when it came to this.

But outside? You were mere acquaintances.

A nod in the hallway. A fleeting smile across the quad. If you happened to pass each other at a party, he’d tip his cup in your direction, and you’d lift a brow in acknowledgment. No one knew. No one suspected a thing. And you liked it better that way. You were both civil and could control your urges.

Except for when you couldn’t.

Like now.

You were leaving class when Sunghoon caught your wrist, pulling you into an empty lecture hall.

“What—”

He kissed you before you could finish, his hands already gripping your hips, pressing you against the nearest desk. The kiss was hot, urgent, like he had been holding back all day.

“Wow, I think you missed me a little,” you teased when he finally pulled away, breathless.

Sunghoon scoffed, but his fingers traced the sleeve of your dress like he wasn’t done with you yet. “You should wear this more often.”

You smirked. “What? Hoon, you did not pull me in here just because I’m wearing a dress.”

“It’s a really nice dress,” he grinned, leaning in to kiss you again.

You kissed him back, snaking your arms around his neck. His hand slipped under your dress, squeezing your thighs firmly. When the familiar warmth started creeping up your chest, you held his hand to stop him.

“This is not a good idea,” you told him, smiling at the puppy-like look on his face.

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head like he regretted his own impulse. But he didn’t let go. Instead, he leaned in again, his lips brushing yours like he couldn’t help himself.

And then you heard the sound of voices just outside the door.

In an instant, Sunghoon stepped back, running a hand through his hair like nothing had happened. You casually adjusted your dress. When the door creaked open, and a couple of students poked their heads in, you and Sunghoon were already on opposite sides of the room.

“Is this Professor Smith’s class?” one of them asked just as you spotted the same name written on the board in front.

“It is,” you said smoothly, slinging your bag over your shoulder as you strode past Sunghoon without so much as a glance.

Outside, in the open air, you felt his presence behind you, his steps easy and unhurried. As you reached the main path to the quad, he finally passed you, his shoulder brushing yours just slightly.

“See you around,” he murmured, low enough that only you could hear.

You smirked, not looking back. “See you around.”

But even with all of that, you could tell he was drawing a line between you. He didn’t have to say it. You could see it in the way he never texted first, the way he kissed you like he meant it but pulled away too quickly after. The way he made you laugh but never let the moment linger too long.

And maybe you should have done the same.

You didn’t mean to fall for him. You really didn’t. But it was hard not to when, in between the sneaking around and the mind-blowing sex, Sunghoon was just... Sunghoon. Nice and thoughtful in a way that made it almost impossible to keep things casual.

Like when the lightbulb in your room went out, and he arrived at your place with a new one, climbed on a chair, and replaced it himself.

“I was gonna do that, you know,” you said, arms crossed as you leaned against the wall, watching him screw the new bulb into place. “I’m just a little busy these days.”

He climbed down, dusting his hands off. “Yeah, but can you even reach that high?”

You rolled your eyes, but when he patted your head like you were some kid, you didn’t swat his hand away. Instead, you found yourself watching him as he moved around your space so easily.

Or the way he always refilled your bedside tumbler before he left your place. You didn’t even notice it at first, but one morning, you woke up, throat dry, and reached for it instinctively—only to realize it was full. Ice-cold. Like he had just topped it off before slipping out.

And then there was the night you were cramming for an exam, drowning in highlighter ink and frustration, when your door swung open, and Sunghoon walked in like he owned the place.

“I’m about to become your favorite person in the world,” he announced, dropping a thick stack of papers on your desk.

You blinked up at him. “What is this?”

“My old notes,” he said, ruffling your hair before plopping onto your bed like he had all the time in the world. “They’re neat. Better than whatever middle school doodles you have going on.”

You flipped through them, and he wasn’t lying—his notes were immaculate. Organized, highlighted, complete with diagrams. You stared at them, then at him, sprawled out on your bed like he had no idea what he’d just done.

“You didn’t strike me as a guy who took his studies seriously,” you teased, although you didn’t really think that way about him.

Sunghoon smirked, turning his head to look at you. “Why? Did you think the only thing I knew how to do was make your legs shake?”

You rolled your eyes, but it didn’t stop the warmth creeping up your chest. “Be real, Hoon. You’re not that good.”

“Liar liar, pants on fire,” he lilted, his eyes shifting back to his phone.

You fell for him because hookups weren’t supposed to be this thoughtful. Hookups weren’t supposed to linger after sex to fix your lightbulb or make sure you stayed hydrated. They weren’t supposed to look after you in ways so small, so casual, that you almost missed them.

You caught yourself wondering. Did he care about you more than just a hookup? Or worse—did you want him to?

You were at a café with your friends when his name came up. 

It started casually enough—half-listening to the conversation while stirring the melting ice in your drink, until one of them, Lily, suddenly said, “Oh, by the way, I saw Sunghoon at your apartment complex the other day. Didn’t know you guys were neighbors.”

Your hand stilled, heartbeat picking up pace at the sudden mention of his name. You blinked once, twice, before mustering up an easy shrug. “Huh. Neither did I.”

Lily laughed, oblivious. “Right? He was coming out of your building. I was gonna say hi, but he looked like he was in a hurry.”

Across the table, Tammy tilted her head. “Maybe he was visiting someone? From what I know, he lives with Jake in a different neighborhood.”

“Maybe,” Lily mused, sipping her drink. Then, as if the thought just occurred to her, she added, “Oh! You and Jenna are neighbors, right?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know any Jenna.”

“Jenna! The girl who won the poll for prettiest student last year!” she explained, her expression turning conspiratorial. “She’s Sunghoon’s ex.”

Your heart sank to the pit of your stomach.

Lily went on, oblivious. “Guess he’s still hoping she’ll take him back.”

The words landed like a slap. You almost asked her to repeat herself, but the way Tammy nodded in understanding told you that you heard right.

“Yeah,” Tammy said. “They were together for two years. I heard he was really sad when they broke up.”

Lily clicked her tongue. “Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if they did get back together. They were that couple, you know?”

That couple. The ones who belonged together. The ones who had history, real history—not just stolen moments behind closed doors.

You swallowed, forcing a small smirk. “Didn’t know you guys were keeping up with Sunghoon’s love life like this.”

Lily nodded. “Jenna and I used to hang out when I was still in the council.”

Then she started rambling about their history, how Jenna broke Sunghoon’s heart, how he never really moved on. You nodded along, pretending to listen, but your mind was stuck on every moment you spent with him. The way he pulled you closer in his sleep, how he never let you walk home alone, the way he looked at you sometimes—like maybe you were something more special to him.

But you weren’t. You weren’t the one he wanted. You never were. And just like that, the guessing game was over.

He didn’t want you like you wanted him. You were genuinely just a fling.

Still, you smiled, made some joke that had your friends laughing, and sipped your drink like nothing was wrong. Like your stomach hadn’t just dropped to the floor.

Later, when you saw Sunghoon again—when he let himself into your apartment with that lazy smirk, hands already reaching for you—you didn’t hesitate. You let him touch you, let him kiss you like nothing had changed.

Because for him, nothing had.

And if he didn’t know the difference or couldn’t see the shift, then you sure as hell weren’t going to show him.

Does it make sense to want your ex back and exclusively sleep with someone else? NO.

It was stupid. Sunghoon was stupid. That was what you told yourself every time the thought crossed your mind—every time you caught yourself comparing.

You never voiced it out loud, though. Not to your friends, because Sunghoon was popular, and they’d pry if they knew you were sleeping with him. Not to him, for obvious reasons. And mainly because you had pride. You were the one who said you wouldn’t get attached—the one who laughed at girls who caught feelings for a fling.

But knowing better didn’t stop the thoughts from creeping in.

His ex was his senior, a fine arts major. Pretty. Smart. Talented. One of those girls who just had it. The kind people didn’t get over easily. You told yourself it didn’t matter. If he wanted her back, that was his problem, not yours. It wasn’t like you and Sunghoon were anything.

And so the days with him continued to be easy and light.

You spent more time together, and the more you did, the more you noticed his quirks—his own brand of annoying charm. Like how he always picked up your keys instead of his whenever he left your apartment, or how he liked to roll his sleeves and ruffle his hair absentmindedly.

One evening, lying side by side on your bed, you scrolled through your texts, absentmindedly opening your chat with him. A dozen images filled the screen, almost all of them mirror selfies. Some in elevators, some in his room, one even in a convenience store.

“You like yourself a little too much, don’t you?” you mused, tilting your phone so he could see.

Sunghoon barely glanced at it. “What?”

“These,” you said, scrolling through. “Almost every picture you send me is just you.”

He smirked, resting his head on his arm. “What, you don’t like them?”

You huffed. “You’re hot and you know it, is that it?”

He let out a breathy laugh, rolling onto his side to face you. The glint in his eyes was naughty and suggestive. His next words, even more so: “Would you rather I send you something else?”

He was looking at you like he knew exactly what he was doing, but you weren’t about to let him have the upper hand.

“Maybe,” you said, feigning deep thought. “Like a cat picture. Or, I don’t know, an interesting rock.”

Sunghoon snorted. “An interesting rock?”

“I like rocks.”

“You’re weird.”

“And you’re a narcissist.”

He only grinned, as if he didn’t mind the label. You shook your head, rolling onto your stomach, but your lips twitched when your phone vibrated a second later.

A picture. Of a rock.

You bit back a smile, and Sunghoon, watching you, caught it anyway.

“What?” he asked, amused.

“Nothing,” you said, tossing your phone aside.

You had never once felt insecure about what you had with Sunghoon, but after what you heard from your friends, you started to notice the little things. It almost seemed like outside the four walls of your apartments, you were nothing to each other.

You used to think he was just a lazy texter. His replies were always short, sometimes delayed, sometimes just emojis. But knowing what you knew now, you wondered if he just wasn’t interested enough.

The thought crept under your skin, making you overthink the things you once brushed off.

Before, when you texted him to come over and he said he couldn’t, you didn’t think much of it. But now? Now, you wondered if he was with her when he wasn’t with you. If he looked at his phone, saw your message, and made a choice.

Yet, you kept crawling back for more.

You were an intelligent woman. You knew this was foolish. You knew how it made you look. But it was fine, because no one else knew how you felt—not your friends, not even Sunghoon himself. It was fine because you were foolish only in your own eyes. There was no need for anyone else to know.

Despite the foolishness of it all, you were happy. You were content enough to be able to spend time with him, to be touched and worshipped by him, to know you had the power to tease out a part of him that not everyone had the privilege to see.

“Sunghoon,” you sighed, fingers pressed against your temple as you looked out of the car window. “We’ve been circling this block for ten minutes.”

You had tagged along with Sunghoon on a quick trip to pick up some pieces for his department’s upcoming art exhibit. It was unplanned. You were outside the campus after class when he spotted you and asked if you wanted to join him. Since you didn’t have anything planned for the day (and because you could never say no to a chance to hang out with him), you got into his car and let him drive without even asking where you were going.

But Sunghoon, as it turned out, had a terrible sense of direction.

“I swear it was supposed to be around here,” he muttered, one hand on the wheel, the other tapping aimlessly at his phone.

“You said that twenty minutes ago.”

He shot you a glance, sheepish. “Well, I meant it twenty minutes ago.”

You rolled your eyes and leaned back in your seat, stretching your legs. The map app on his dashboard kept recalculating, rerouting him to roads that either didn’t exist or led straight to nowhere. And when he finally admitted defeat, pulling over to rethink his next move, you both stepped out and realized something.

The ocean was right there.

Waves lapped lazily at the shore, the sky was clear, and the sun was warm but not overbearing—the kind of day that practically begged to be wasted at the beach.

“…Screw the errand?” you offered.

Sunghoon stared at the water for a moment before shrugging. “Screw the errand.”

And just like that, the detour became the destination.

The day unfolded spontaneously. You bought overpriced street food from a vendor by the shore, eating as you walked, laughing when Sunghoon scrunched his nose at the spicy kick of the sauce. He had an annoyingly specific taste in food and the smell, but he still let you shove a piece of yours into his mouth.

You found a little souvenir stand and tried on ridiculous sunglasses, taking pictures of each other in frames shaped like hearts and palm trees. Sunghoon snapped candid shots of you when you weren’t looking, and though you pretended to be annoyed, you never asked him to stop.

At some point, the tide crept in, and you played a round of rock, paper, scissors and dared the loser to get into the water. You weren’t even surprised when you lost. You sucked at this game.

“I can’t believe you’re making me do this,” you grumbled, kicking your sandals off. “By myself, no less.”

“Hey, it’s a game. We both agreed to this,” he retorted, stepping back. “And I can’t go in there. I’m wearing jeans.”

“And I’m wearing a skirt,” you countered, already wading in, your hem darkening as the waves reached you.

Sunghoon exhaled through his nose, probably wondering if you were actually sulking over a punishment you’d happily agreed to before you lost the game. Of course, you weren’t, but it was fun to tease him and see what he’d do.

“You’re unbelievable,” he said after the scowl never left your face. In a moment of impulsive surrender, he walked straight in after you, the water soaking up his pants. You’re actually unbelievable,” he added, shaking his head as the chill hit him.

You grinned triumphantly, making him brush his hair back in playful exasperation. Then, shaking his head in defeat, he said, “I knew it. It was a farce. You knew I was gonna give in!”

“You fell for it,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes playfully. “Don’t blame me,” you added, flicking water at him.

Sunghoon blinked at you, unimpressed, before flicking some back with just the tips of his fingers.

“Oh, come on,” you taunted. “Is that the best you can do?”

His eyes narrowed slightly—just enough of a warning before he sent a full splash your way, drenching your arms. You gasped, stumbling back with a laugh.

“Oh? So that’s how it’s gonna be?” you shot back, scooping up water with both hands and throwing it right at his chest.

He retaliated, sending another wave toward you, and suddenly it was war. One splash turned into another, then another, until you were both breathless, clothes sticking to your skin, hair a mess.

Sunghoon pushed his dripping bangs back with a huff. “This is your fault,” he said, smiling his usual warm and blinding smile—the smile that made his eyes crinkle, the smile that revealed dimples carving deep into his cheeks, the smile that could make anyone think Sunghoon had never forced a grin in his life.

He was beautiful, and you could feel yourself falling deeper and deeper, with no way out. You were falling so deep that it made your heart ache a little—the way you liked him, the way you wanted him to be yours, the way you wished today could last forever.

As the sky started to turn amber, you collapsed onto the sand, watching the sun lower itself into the horizon.

The waves rolled in, steady and endless, curling at the shore. The air smelled of salt, and the golden glow of the sunset painted the world majestically. You sat side by side, talking and laughing about random things, content to share the warmth of a single jacket.

Then, somewhere between the soothing sound of the waves and the silly jokes, the conversation drifted deeper.

You talked about things you never had before—about college, about dreams and ambitions, about the way people always say you’ll just know when something is right.

“How do you know for sure that that’s what you wanted to pursue?” he asked while you were tracing idle patterns in the sand. “What if you think you know, but when you get to the end of it, you realize it was the wrong choice?”

You looked out into the ocean, tilting your head slightly, considering. “I didn’t really know it was the right choice. I don’t think anyone ever really knows,” you admitted. “Not in the moment, at least. Maybe you just choose something, and later, that choice becomes the right one.”

You turned to look at him only to find out he already had his eyes on you. The admiration in his gaze was subtle, but it was there. Seeing that made your heart trip over itself, it made you forget, for just a second, that this wasn’t real.

And when he leaned in, when his eyes flickered to your lips and your breath caught, you stopped thinking. You knew what was coming. You knew he was about to kiss you, but somehow, for some reason, this time felt different. Like this kiss was gonna determine a major point in your relationship.

But before anything could happen, Sunghoon’s phone rang, jolting you both out of the trance. You both looked away in embarrassment, clearing your throat like you’d caught yourself doing something you shouldn’t. Which was ridiculous because you’d done nothing but kiss him in the past few months.

Sunghoon cleared his throat as he picked up his phone on the sand then answered the call with a quiet, “Yeah?”

It was the committee for the exhibit and you watched him talk on the phone for the next few minutes, explaining what had happened and why he couldn’t finish the errand. By the time he hung up, the sky had darkened completely, and the air had turned crisp.

“It’s late,” he said, brushing sand off his hands. “You okay with crashing at my place?”

You blinked. “Your place?”

“Our old family house. It’s not far from here.”

You hesitated for a moment, but then shrugged. “Sure.”

The car ride was quiet, thick with the tension that had been ignited by the near-kiss at the beach. Neither of you spoke, but your gazes met every now and then—quick glances, fleeting and heated, before darting away like you hadn’t been caught.

Sunghoon was the first to break. His hand drifted from the wheel, finding your thigh in the dim glow of the dashboard, fingers pressing just enough to make your breath hitch. He squeezed, testing, and when you didn’t stop him, he grew bolder, pushing the hem of your dress up just enough to feel the warmth of your skin. His fingers traced your skin with slow, deliberate strokes, inching higher into your inner thighs and lightly brushing your sex.

The heat of his touch burned through you. While you sat there feeling hotter as your heartbeat hammered wildly in your chest, he remained composed and quiet, his face unreadable save for the occasional twitch of his jaw. He kept his eyes on the road, but the way the car gradually picked up speed as he stepped harder on the gas told you everything you needed to know.

The tension coiled tighter and tighter until the car rolled to a stop in their driveway. He exhaled sharply, as if regaining control of himself before stepping out and opening the door for you like nothing was out of the ordinary. 

The lock to their house’s main entrance clicked, the door creaked open, and the second you stepped inside, all restraints snapped.

You barely had a moment to take in the house before his hands were on you, pulling you in, mouths crashing in a kiss that was desperate, needy, and greedy. He backed you into the foyer, hands mapping the curve of your waist, and the shape of your hips.

Your fingers tangled in his shirt, pulling, tugging, holding on for dear life as the heat of his touch woke something primal in you. He barely broke the kiss as he guided you further inside, not caring where you ended up as long as you got there together. You went past the foyer and the living room, but all you felt was the press of his body, the way he kissed you with the kind of hunger that made your head spin.

He pushed a door open, urging you inside but you hesitated, pulse hammering.

“Sunghoon,” you breathed between kisses, fingers clutching at his shoulders. “Your parents—”

“They’re not home.” His voice was low, steady, but his eyes burned through yours.

You barely had a second to process before he kissed you again, silencing every last doubt as he pushed you inside the door he had just opened. When he clicked the lights on, the glow of a bathroom light flickered on, reflecting off the tiles and the mirror above the sink.

“Figured you’d hate the taste of the sea on my skin,” he murmured, grinning as his fingers grazed your hip. You were suddenly reminded of the saltwater clinging to your skin, and the sand on your legs, remnants of the day you’d spent together.

You swallowed, nodding. But the moment he lifted the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head in one swift motion, you knew washing up wasn’t gonna be the only thing happening in here. 

You shamelessly ogled him—his bare skin, damp from sweat and seawater, and his lean build with well-defined muscles that you’d seen several times before but still found alluring. He caught you staring and smirked, stepping closer, close enough that his fingers found the buttons of your top.

“Did you know I’m good with buttons?” he asked softly, making you giggle.

“Yeah. I’ve seen your skills,” you said, watching him.

His fingers were deft, undoing your buttons slowly, teasingly. When he was done, he gently tugged it off, letting it fall on the floor. His hands didn’t leave you, though. They skimmed down your arms, and your waist, examining every curve like he had it memorized and wanted to see if anything was different.

The next thing you knew, warm water was cascading over your bodies, steam enveloping you in the small space. The spray soaked your hair, trailing down your spine, but you barely noticed because Sunghoon was there—his hands smoothing over your skin, his lips brushing against your shoulder, your jaw, his canines grazing your skin ever so slightly.

“We’re supposed to be washing up,” you teased, though your voice was breathless.

“We are,” he murmured, his fingers sliding down your stomach, inching lower. “Just making sure we’re doing it thoroughly.”

You let out a quiet laugh, but it faded into a sigh when he pressed you back against the cool tiles, his mouth finding yours again. He didn’t stay for long, lips trailing down your jaw to your neck, all the way to your chest where his kisses turned a little more intense. He sucked and squeezed, sending a pleasant ripple through your body that made you arch forward for more. The water drowned out the sound of your quiet moans, the warmth of his mouth making every touch feel more heady, more intoxicating.

When did he take off his pants? You didn’t even notice until he pressed his body against yours and you felt his manhood pulsating against your torso, hot and raging. He kissed your lips again, shoving his tongue inside as his breathing turned rougher.

“Turn around,” he rasped in your ear, and you obliged, finding yourself face-to-face with your own reflection.

You pressed your hands against the glass, your entire body tingling with anticipation as he positioned himself behind you. He wrapped an arm around your shoulder, kissing the side of your neck as you felt his tip prodding your pussy.

“Look at you,” he whispered, biting your ear. “Do you have any idea how you drive me crazy all the damn time?”

You were about to respond when he pushed himself inside you, making you let out a throaty gasp instead. Sunghoon stayed still, shushing you gently and kissing your shoulder.

“It’s alright. We’ve done this before,” he chimed and you could see him smirking in your reflection. 

“You’re used to this, right?” he asked, moving delicately so you could properly adjust to his length and girth. “Right, baby?” he asked again, and the lilt in his voice made you close your eyes and nod.

“That’s right. You said you love it, didn’t you?” 

You could only let out a deep sigh, tilting your head back. “Yes, Hoon. I love it,” you whispered back.

“Good. I know you do,” he chimed, gently bending you forward. “I know you’ll love this too,” he added before his hands settled on your waist and he started thrusting into you.

His pace was urgent, with enough force to make your knees weak each time he slammed into you. You didn’t even bother to stifle your moans anymore, letting them out completely, not caring if there were neighbors nearby who might hear you. You were lightheaded with lust, spiraling into the titillating euphoria that Sunghoon never once failed to deliver. Your entire being came alive and you were so caught up in it that you didn’t even notice your knees buckling underneath your weight.

Sunghoon’s grip tightened as he helped keep you up, pulling out to give you a quick break and to turn you face-to-face with him again. His grin was unmistakable, pleased to see your fucked-out expression. “So so beautiful,” he said, sweeping your hair out of your face.

He pressed you against the cool tiles, his lips crashing onto yours, urgency overtaking everything else. You gasped when his hands gripped your thighs, lifting you against him. The water poured over his shoulders, down your back, as he moved with reckless need, his breath ragged against your ear. 

“More, Hoon. Please, more,” you pleaded, as if he wasn’t already ramming mercilessly into you making every nerve in your body dance in pleasure.

“You’re so horny for me,” he murmured against your lips, his fingers gripping your thighs as he lifted you against him. “Can’t even wait till we got to the bed, huh?”

Your breath hitched as he pressed into you, the heat of the shower only amplifying the sensation. “This was your idea,” you whispered, but it came out shaky, wrecked.

He chuckled, low and deep. “I know. But you want this too, don’t you?” he said, voice smooth as his lips traced down your throat. “You want me so bad. You’re begging me for more, isn’t that right?”

You didn’t answer—not in words, at least. But when you tightened your grip around his shoulders, nails pressing into his skin, he took it as confirmation.

“That’s it,” he groaned, rolling his hips into yours. “Come on, baby. Let me hear you.”

You whimpered when he hit a delicious spot, holding onto him tighter. “Hoon, you fuck so good.”

He grunted, spurred on by your admission. He was fast, desperate—like he couldn’t get enough, like he had to claim every inch of you right then and there. When he finally tipped over the edge, dragging you down with him, he held you through it, his lips pressing on your temple as your body trembled in his arms.

The moment was fleeting, but the desire didn’t leave just yet. You could still feel it in his touch even as he set you back on your feet. The moment you stepped out of the shower, Sunghoon grabbed a towel, barely bothering to dry you properly before he lifted you off your feet, carrying you out of the bathroom, down the hallway, and into what you only assumed was his bedroom.

This time, there was no rush.

He laid you down, his hands smoothing over your skin, his touch softer now, more reverent. “Look at you,” he murmured, eyes tracing over every inch of you, dark with something more than just lust. “So pretty. So perfect for me.”

Your breath came uneven as he leaned down, pressing slow, lingering kisses along your collarbone, down your chest, lower—each one dragging a gasp from your lips.

“Tell me what you need,” he whispered against your skin.

“You,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

A knowing smile tugged at his lips. “Yeah?” He kissed the corner of your mouth, teasing. “Then take me,” he added, just before he filled you up again.

It wasn’t rushed, wasn’t urgent, or desperate. It was slow, deep, and overwhelming in the most delightful way. He kept his forehead pressed to yours, breath warm against your face, whispering in between kisses.

“That’s it… just like that, baby,” he murmured, moving languidly. “You feel so good. You’re taking me so well.”

Every whispered praise sent shivers down your spine, made you cling to him even tighter, and made the pleasure build until it was unbearable.

The night was young and it was not gonna end just yet. And so the hours blurred into moments of euphoric highs, fleeting clarity, and intense need to ravage and be ravaged. His name was the only thing you could say—over and over—until you were both left breathless, tangled together in the sheets, completely undone.

In the morning, you probably wouldn’t remember every detail of tonight, but you’d remember this—remember the way his hands felt on your skin, the way he whispered your name like a prayer. In the dim glow of Sunghoon’s bedroom, your fingers tangled in his damp hair, lips swollen from too many kisses, you let yourself forget. Forget the rules. Forget that this was never supposed to feel like more. Just for tonight, he was yours, and you were his.

The morning light streamed in through the sheer curtains, hurting your eyes a little. You blinked awake, momentarily disoriented, until the scent of Sunghoon’s shampoo on your skin and the warmth of the bed beneath you reminded you where you were.

You turned over to find him already awake, his arm tucked behind his head as he looked at you with a lazy smile. “Morning,” he murmured.

“Morning,” you murmured, voice thick with sleep.

His fingers skimmed down your arm. “You’re cute when you sleep.”

A slow blink. Then, a scoff. “Liar.”

“It’s true.” He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering as his gaze flickered down to your lips. “You drool a little, though.”

You smacked his arm. “I do not.”

His laughter was low and teasing, as he caught your wrist then tugged you closer. His body was warm against yours, and his breath was even warmer as he kissed the curve of your neck.

“We should get up,” you said, but neither of you moved.

“Yeah,” he murmured, his soft kisses trailing down to your shoulder. “In a bit,” he added before reaching to cup your cheek and kiss your lips.

One thing led to another and suddenly, you were underneath him again, his body pressing into yours like he couldn’t bear to be apart.

The morning air was cool, but his hands were warm as they skimmed down your waist, his touch slow, and smooth. 

“You’re insatiable,” he murmured against your lips, smiling when you shivered under him.

“So are you,” you whispered back, running your fingers through his hair.

He hummed, nipping at your bottom lip before soothing it with his tongue. “Guess we’re even, then.”

His hands slid over your bare skin, his touch reverent. He kissed you deeply, guiding you through the lazy tangle of limbs and soft gasps, dragging it out like he had all the time in the world.

By the time you finally got out of bed, Sunghoon had already dug through his closet, tossing you an old hoodie and some sweatpants. You pulled them on and followed him down the quiet hallway.

The house felt still—too still. Only then did you notice the dust gathering on the bookshelves, the faint scent of time in the air.

“This place has been empty for a while now,” Sunghoon said casually from behind you when he noticed you looking around. “My family moved a few months ago to take care of my grandparents.”

Your brows lifted. “So no one lives here?”

He shook his head. “Not really. I come by sometimes. I technically still live here, I'm just not here often.”

That made sense. There was something about the house—it felt untouched, frozen in time, like stepping into a memory. You walked further into the hall, your fingers grazing along the walls and stopping at the framed photographs hanging there.

You studied them, tilting your head. Sunghoon as a kid, bright-eyed and grinning, a missing tooth on full display. A younger version of him on a skating rink, mid-game, frozen in motion. Another picture—him and his family, arms slung over each other’s shoulders, and several of him in a skating rink, different poses, taken in the middle of a routine.

“You skate?”

Sunghoon smiled, standing beside you and looking up at the photos. “Used to. I was in the national team for a while.”

“Why did you stop?” you asked glancing up at him and seeing the reminiscent look on his face.

He simply shrugged. “I had to be realistic. I enjoyed the sport but I couldn’t see myself doing it for a long time.”

You bit back a smile. “You were kind of adorable.”

Sunghoon scoffed, stepping up behind you. “I still am.”

“Debatable.”

He tugged at your hoodie—his hoodie—pulling the hood over your head before nodding toward the door. “Come on. Let’s go get something to eat.”

The drive back to the city was uneventful, the radio playing softly in the background. Sunghoon’s hand rested on the wheel, his other lazily draped over your thigh, tracing absentminded patterns through the fabric of his sweatpants that you were still wearing. You were talking, laughing, stealing quick glances at him between songs on the stereo.

At some point, he cleared his throat. “So… what are you doing later?”

“I have a group project.” You groaned, leaning back against the seat. “I’m meeting up with my classmates later.”

“Right. Group project.” He nodded slowly, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. “Sounds boring.”

“It is,” you huffed. “Why’d you ask?”

“No reason.” His eyes stayed fixed on the road, but you caught the way his grip on the wheel tightened just slightly. A second passed before he spoke again, this time even more nonchalant. “What about tomorrow?”

You tilted your head. “Tomorrow? I’m not sure. Just classes, I think.” You turned to him, raising a brow. “Why?”

“Do you wanna grab lunch with me tomorrow?”

You stared at him for a moment, then grinned teasingly. “Are you asking me out on a date, Park Sunghoon?”

His ears turned the faintest shade of pink, but he scoffed like the idea was ridiculous. “I’m just saying we should get lunch.”

“Mmm.” You pretended to think. “Sounds like a date to me.”

“It’s not a date.”

You scoffed in playful exasperation. “Dude, I was naked on top of you last night and a couple of other nights before. Surely we’re way past shy invitations for lunch dates?”

“I’m asking you to eat.” He paused, then added with a tilt of his head, “But if you wanna call it a date, that’s fine too. Labels are overrated.”

You hummed, pretending to think about it. “Hm. I guess I’ll allow it.”

Sunghoon chuckled, shaking his head. “Good. It’s settled then,” he said, stopping at a red light.

He leaned over to kiss you, catching you off guard but only for a moment. You kissed him back, albeit a little confused. When he pulled away, he was wearing a proud smirk on his face and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Stop that.”

“Stop what?” he asked, shifting the gear as the light turned green again. He reached for your hand, intertwining your fingers and bringing it to his lips.

One hour later, you reached your apartment complex, but had to you stay a few more minutes in his car because he couldn’t seem to get enough of you, kissing and touching right there in the parking lot. You had to forcefully push him away and remind him that you had classes and important stuff to attend to. Even then, he was reluctant to let you go.

After a dramatic goodbye that had him pouting as he drove away, you climbed up the building with a sickening grin on your face. You unlocked your door, stepping inside with a lightness in your chest, breathing in the familiar smell of your home. 

The past few days had been a rollercoaster for you, with all the guessing and expectations and disappointments. But now, you were feeling much lighter, much happier. The good days with Sunghoon were all you could think of, playing back in flashes—the sound of his laugh in your space, the weight of his arm over your waist in the morning, the smell of his skin at night, the way he always left the bathroom mirror fogged up because he took ridiculously hot showers.

Tossing your bag onto the couch, you leaned against the door for a moment, smiling to yourself. Sunghoon was nice, but he always drew an invisible line. Not this time. You could tell by the way he held you this morning, the way he was reluctant to part from you, and how he’d asked to hang out with you for lunch—outside, in public. It felt like, for once, you both wanted the same thing. No second-guessing, no mixed signals—you were finally moving the same direction.

Your gaze drifted to the hoodie he’d left draped over the chair, his specs on your nightstand, and the half-empty tumbler beside it—subtle proofs that he’d started leaving pieces of himself behind. You wondered if he even realized it.

And more than that, you wondered where this would go next.

The next morning, you woke up too early. Way too early.

You groaned into your pillow, rolling onto your back as you stared at the ceiling. It was ridiculous. You’d seen Sunghoon plenty of times before—hung out, spent nights together, and shared more than just passing glances. But the idea of today, of a proper lunch date, had you wide awake before the sun was even fully up. Maybe it was because, for once, you weren’t just meeting up in the comfort of your apartment or his. It would be something different. Something real.

You giggled at the thought, covering your face with your blanket and then flailing your arms and legs. 

Admitting that to yourself felt embarrassing, so you dragged yourself out of bed and decided to be productive. If you were going to be up this early, you might as well make the most of it.

A jog around the neighborhood. A quick stop at the store. And before you knew it, you were back in your apartment, unpacking groceries and deciding, on a whim, to actually cook breakfast. When was the last time you did that? You couldn’t even remember.

By the time you arrived on campus, you were still riding the high of a morning well-spent. Your good mood didn’t go unnoticed—your friends picked up on it immediately, teasing you about the extra bounce in your step. You brushed them off with the excuse of getting enough sleep, but they weren’t wrong. Everything just felt lighter today.

Even classes didn’t seem so unbearable. You participated. You took notes. You weren’t counting down the minutes to leave—well, not exactly. But the closer lunchtime got, the more restless you became, checking your phone every so often even though you knew you were the only one keeping track of time this obsessively.

Then, just as you were leaving your last morning class, your phone buzzed.

Sunghoon: Hey pretty. Something came up. I can’t do lunch today. I’m sorry. Sunghoon: I’ll make it up to you later tonight, okay?

Your steps slowed, but you kept moving, staring at the text longer than necessary.

Bummed. That was the best way to describe it. You weren’t mad—plans get canceled all the time, and at least he let you know ahead of time—but disappointment still settled in the pit of your stomach. You took a breath, shook it off, and responded with a simple, It’s fine. See you later.

Lunch with your friends helped a little. You laughed, caught up on random gossip, and even let them drag you to a café afterward. You weren’t dwelling on it. Really, you weren’t.

Until you stepped out of the café and saw him. Sunghoon, standing outside the campus gates. And he wasn’t alone. 

Jenna was with him.

You stopped in your tracks, heart lurching in a way you hadn’t felt before. It wasn’t just that he was there, but the way he was standing close to her, the way she was talking, nudging his arm like she had every right to be in his space.

Sunghoon must have felt someone staring at him because he glanced your way and saw you. His eyes brightened in recognition, and he greeted you casually, like nothing was out of the ordinary. But you didn’t even know how to react. Your body moved before your brain could catch up. You walked past him, barely sparing a glance, pretending as if you weren’t close. As if he was just someone you barely knew.

Your friends who saw that were confused, following behind you after quick greetings to both Sunghoon and Jenna. 

Tammy caught up to you, nudged your arm, and asked, “Where are you running off to after ignoring Sunghoon like that?”

“I wasn’t ignoring anyone,” you muttered.

“You totally were,” Lily chimed in, linking arms with you as she leaned to speak in a quieter voice. “That’s so fishy. What’s going on?”

You didn’t respond, your mind too muddled to even try and come up with a good answer. As you rounded the corner, your phone buzzed a second later.

Sunghoon: Hey. What was that?

You ignored it, as well as the other messages that followed. 

The rest of the afternoon slipped through your fingers in a haze of self-pity. You curled up on the couch, aimlessly flipping through movies, but nothing got your attention. The voices blurred together, scenes passed without meaning. You weren’t devastated. You weren’t heartbroken. You were just... mad. Annoyed that after everything, after how good things had been, this was what it came down to. But getting worked up wouldn’t do anything. So, you forced yourself to let it go. 

Or at least, you tried. It was impossible when he kept creeping into your thoughts—his voice, his touch, the way he looked at you just yesterday—like he wanted this as much as you did.

You didn’t even realize you had dozed off until the sound of your phone ringing jolted you awake.

You blinked against the glow of the screen. Sunghoon.

For a moment, you stared at his name, your heartbeat loud in the quiet of your apartment. You could ignore it. You could let it ring out and pretend you were still asleep. You could put an end to this charade, to tell him you were done and sick of it. But you didn’t.

You answered. His voice was gentle, cautious. “Can I come over?”

You should say no. You should end this here and now. Enough is enough. But… “Yeah. Of course,” you said, trying your best to sound normal.

Half an hour later, he was in your apartment, hands on you, lips on yours, familiar and desperate. And, as always, you let him in—physically, emotionally, despite knowing better. You let yourself believe that maybe, for just a little longer, this could be enough.

Afterward, you slipped out of bed, padding into the bathroom to wash up. By the time you returned, the room was dark, the only source of light was coming from Sunghoon’s phone on the nightstand. He was already asleep, his breathing even, his body sprawled across your sheets like he belonged there.

You reached for the blanket to pull it over him when his phone buzzed, the screen glowing against the dim light. Your gaze flickered to it, drawn by instinct.

Jenna calling...

Your chest tightened at the name. For a moment, you just stood there, watching the name flash across the screen before it faded into darkness. You could answer it. You could see what she wanted, hear her voice, and confirm everything you had been trying so hard to ignore.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you climbed into bed, curling up beside Sunghoon, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. You knew what you had to do. Knew that when he woke up, this had to end for good.

But not yet.

For now, while he was still yours—warm, close, familiar—you let yourself have this one last moment. You closed your eyes and pretended everything was okay, even though you knew exactly what tomorrow would bring.

The next morning, you woke up to an empty bed. The space beside you was cold. 

It was over.

The realization hit you like a punch to the gut. You had spent the night convincing yourself that you were ready for this, ready to end things, but the second you woke up to find him gone, the ache in your chest became unbearable.

Tears welled up before you could stop them. You curled into yourself, pressing your face against the pillow, sobbing into the fabric as if that could somehow muffle the sound. This wasn’t supposed to hurt. You weren’t supposed to grieve something that was never really yours. But you did.

You let yourself fall apart, mourning what could have been, whispering prayers into the silence that it didn’t have to end this way.

And then the door creaked open. You gasped, jolting up, eyes red and blurry as Sunghoon stepped into the room, holding your tumbler in his hand. 

His brows furrowed at the sight of you, eyes widening in alarm. “What’s wrong?” he asked, rushing to your side, setting the tumbler down before cupping your face and wiping the tears off your cheeks. “Hey—why are you crying?”

You shook your head, unable to form words. He pulled you into his chest, his arms wrapping tightly around you as you sobbed against him. He didn’t ask any more questions. He just held you, rubbing your back, shushing you gently even though he didn’t understand what had you so upset.

After a long moment, you finally managed to choke out, “I thought you were gone.”

Sunghoon pulled back slightly, blinking at you in confusion. Then, to your utter annoyance, he started laughing.

“What do you mean, gone?” he chuckled, shaking his head. “I literally just went to shower and get you some water.”

You smacked his arm, your face burning. “Don’t laugh at me, you jerk!”

“I’m not laughing at you,” he said, though he was definitely still laughing.

Something about his amusement made you snap. Maybe it was the pent-up emotions, or maybe it was the fact that you had nothing left to lose—but suddenly, everything came spilling out.

You confessed it all.

How you weren’t supposed to catch feelings, but you did. How you tried to push them down, to ignore them, but they never really went away. How you had spent so long pretending to be fine with this casual arrangement, knowing deep down that you weren’t. How much it crushed you to think that he was trying to win Jenna back, how much it hurt when he canceled on you, and how stupid you felt for letting yourself get so attached.

Sunghoon stared at you, utterly dumbfounded.

You sniffled, swallowing back the last of your tears. “Well? Say something.”

And then, to your horror, he started laughing again.

Your stomach twisted. “Are you kidding me right now?”

But before you could shove him away, he grabbed your face and kissed you. Hard.

Your breath hitched, but you melted into it, gripping his shirt as he kissed you like he had been waiting for this moment all along. When he finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, his voice quieter now. “I like you,” he admitted. “A lot.”

You opened your mouth, but he kept going. “You’re fun, you don’t take my shit, and you get me in a way that most people don’t. I’m always looking forward to seeing you. To hearing whatever sarcastic thing you were gonna say next. To just… being with you.”

“Then why—”

“I wasn’t with Jenna because of what you think.” His hands slid down to hold yours, his thumbs brushing over your knuckles. “There was an accident with the exhibit setup, and I had to be there. She just happened to walk out with me.”

Your eyes narrowed. “And the part where you’re trying to get back with her?”

Sunghoon made a face. “Where did you even hear that?”

You hesitated before mumbling, “A mutual friend.”

He huffed. “Why didn’t you just ask me?”

“I don’t know!” You did, but you weren’t about to admit that you didn’t want to seem like you were expecting too much from him—like you were demanding something that was never part of your deal.

Sunghoon sighed, squeezing your hands. “I don’t know where you got that idea, but I only have eyes for you.” His lips quirked. “Yeah, maybe I didn’t realize how much I liked you at first, but ever since we started this, I haven’t thought about anyone else.”

Your heart stuttered.

Then he smirked. “I thought we had an understanding. Did we really need a label for it?”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Right. Labels are overrated.”

Sunghoon kissed you deeply, and this time, you returned it with the same amount of sweet abandon. Then he pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your lips.

“I’m all yours, baby,” he murmured. “And right now, I’m wondering if you’d wanna be mine too.”

You let out a sharp breath, your chest tightening at his words. For a second, you just stared at him—his dark eyes searching yours, his expression completely open, completely vulnerable.

Then you scoffed, shaking your head with an exasperated laugh.

“For fuck's sake, Sunghoon.” You squeezed his hands, tugging him just a little closer. “I’m already yours.”

His lips crashed into yours before you could say anything else, stealing the last of your breath, and this time, you didn’t hold anything back.

[fin]

[artemisiasmuse]

sex ban | toxic rafe x toxic reader

cw: obvi mdni 18+, toxic jealous rafe, physical violence (not towards the reader), sex ban lifted!, p in v, multiple rounds, unprotected (don’t do this), munch of the year rafe, crying during sex, squirting, headlock, oral receiving for both of them, mentions of blood, again these bitches are crazy

~ 4k words

an: this was so filthy i think i need to go to church (im not even christian) also don’t know if how i described the positions made sense but we move T_T

“you can’t be serious?” rafe looked up from his hands, you’d cleaned off the blood all the while being extremely pissed off. you couldn’t believe he beat someone to a pulp, again, just for checking you out. you hated how good he looked covered in blood, hated how even now you could feel your underwear getting sticky from your arousal.

“i am, no sex for two weeks, maybe then you’ll stop being such an asshole!” surely you were joking, there’s no way you’d hold out on him that long. he knew he wouldn’t survive without your pussy and he prayed you would give up after a few days. his prayers weren’t answered.

two weeks passed with the ease of a thousand pounds dropped onto rafe’s shoulders. he was irritable all the time, practically blue-balled the entire time, and couldn’t stand being in the room with anyone that wasn’t you. at some point, after he begged to at least eat you out, you stopped letting him come over at night even. rafe was practically vibrating with need, yet you seemed so unaffected.

he had a fucking reminder set on his phone for midnight when the two weeks was over, of course he was already on the way to your place at 11:50. you expected nothing less, unlocking the door for him preemptively, and he huffed out a breath when he found you sitting on your couch watching tv like it was nothing. like you didn’t care. rafe was so pent up he might come from a single stroke of your tiny hand around his cock, but here you were, calm and collected. you muted the tv when you saw him, he sat next to you, leaving a gap he normally wouldn’t, and began to apologize.

“baby it’s been two weeks, i’m sorry okay? i’ll do better.”

“you said that last time.”

“i mean it this time, i won’t beat anyone up, unless you want me to.” you roll your eyes at his addition, turning your body to face him. rafe’s eyes tracked the way your shirt rode up your thighs, realizing it was actually his shirt. his mouth felt dry, he hadn’t been so hard from so little since he was a fucking preteen.

“okay.” you conceded, you kinda had to, rafe looked a lil too good like he knew the exact outfit that would make you forgive him easily. his hands were veiny and a ring accentuated his long thick fingers, fingers you missed dearly. yours just weren’t cutting it any more, he knew exactly how to touch you, fill you, make your mind numb. and that was just his fingers, his pink tongue had slipped out to lick at his lips and you can’t focus much longer, all the memories flashing by.

“okay?” rafe couldn’t believe what he was hearing, he couldn’t believe you were taking him back so easily. he didn’t dare move or touch you until you confirmed.

“uh huh, your apology is accepted.” you nodded slow like molasses, your eyes already glazed over with need. he couldn’t tell, he was so caught up in his own desire. and as the word left your pretty lips, the spell was lifted.

“fuck come here” the words are empty, his large hand closes around the back of your neck and pulls you to him, his lips finding your own. you’d kissed the past two weeks but this is different, this is urgent. he’s sloppy with it, tongue peeking out into your mouth, tasting you, sucking on your tongue. it’s less of a kiss and more of a bite, he wants to consume you. you groan into his mouth, unsatisfied with the distance between you two and you move to straddle him. rafe pulls back at that, no he wouldn’t let you, he’d much rather have you on your back, he pushes you down by your neck, the slight pressure makes you keen. there’s no chance for you to sit back up when he’s leaning over you, settling between your legs and kissing you back down.

his kisses trail off, bites and open-mouthed kisses trailing your neck till he reaches your collarbone. your shirt is discarded with a blink of your eye and you wonder if he’s moving too fast. you can barely keep up when a mouth latches over your nipple, sucking harshly. “fuckkk i missed my girls” a lewd pop releases it from his mouth, giving attention to the other one and you arch into his touch. his large hand closes around the now sore nipple, pinching and massaging while he sucks on your tit like his life depends on it. the cold metal of his ring soothes the sting of his bites and you moan his name in desperation. the stickiness in your underwear is getting embarrassing and you feel like a fire is burning in your core. there’s no need for you to ask, rafe wants to eat, he’s been starving for weeks and your pussy is the only thing that can satiate him. after littering your chest and neck with hickies he kisses down your stomach, marveling at how soft your skin is, how he should never take an inch of it for granted any more. when he finally reaches your pink lace panties, he realizes it’s too much work to take them off you. that would require him getting off you and he really couldn’t afford to move an inch away. his fingers trace the flimsy material and he decides very quickly, tearing it off you with ease, and you hear the rip before you feel it. you don’t even notice him stuff the material into his pocket from the shock.

“rafe!” you don’t know if you’re mad or even more turned on but you wiggle under his gaze, blue eyes glued to your puffy and slick cunt. the tv screen illuminates enough for him to see his pretty girl is soaked. he nearly drools.

“getting in the way of my meal, i’ll buy you new ones.” he murmurs, not even looking away once, you huff at his words, and push his head down. he doesn’t need any encouragement, he’s nearly cumming in his pants from the sight of your pussy alone. if he could he’d take a polaroid of it and keep it in his pocket forever.

rafe is a man possessed, pushing you up the sofa length to make space for him between your legs, he hikes one up the cushions to rest on the back of the sofa, the other onto his shoulder so he can fit between them. you don’t even know if you exist to him any more because he’s smiling at your pussy like it’s his girlfriend instead. he shoves his nose, inhaling the scent of your arousal, it’s honey to his senses and his eyes flutter shut at how good you smell. then his tongue flattens against your pussy and he might just cry. you gasp at the feeling, wet and hard across your opening and clit, so brief you think you imagined it. rafe moans at the taste, let’s you coat his tongue before he goes back in for seconds, swirling his tongue along your weeping cunt until he’s thoroughly cleaned his plate. he’s moaning at your taste, tears pricking his eyes as it stains the back of his teeth, his hands grip your waist to drive you down to his tongue. he knows you’re gonna run from it, you always do. finally his tongue fills you up, delving into and cleaning you out, the feeling of the muscle squirming inside you makes you writhe in pleasure. “taste so fucking good, never letting this go again,” he slurs into you. you can feel yourself get wet again and he feels precum stain his boxers as more of your ichor slips down his throat. it’s not enough, he wants more, his right hand joins in, one finger curling into you along with his tongue and his thumb idly swirls along your clit. the combination of his tongue and finger fucking you and his drunken moans, make you come on his tongue embarrassingly fast. you’re gushing into his mouth more and rafe doesn’t even budge when you push at his forehead, the overstimulation stings and your poor walls flutter around his tongue, trying to drive him out, he only goes crazier. his tongue slips out a trail of saliva and your slick connecting him to you before he attaches his lips to your clit. you shake at the sensation, not yet come down from your previous orgasm. he sucks and laves over your clit, setting your body aflame. he takes the opportunity to slip another finger in, stretching you more than anything in the past two weeks, and he can tell your pussy is going to feel amazing on his cock. you’re struggling to take two fingers and he can’t help but moan at the thought. you hate how quickly he brings you to your next orgasm, your legs threatening to close around him and he makes a noise of disapproval. your mind feels numb now and you jump at his touches. rafe gives you a few seconds to recover, pulling his fingers out and licking them clean, but when he tastes you again it’s not his fault he needs another hit. you’re a bit shocked yourself when he releases his hold on your legs and sits back. your wide round eyes making him chuckle at your disbelief. “you’re gonna sit on my face baby.” he resounds and you blink at him twice before sitting up, you wince at the way you’re drooling onto the couch and how you suddenly feel empty. rafe positions himself with his head poised for your pussy to sit on. you gawk at him.

“won’t i crush you?” besides your question you’re raised up ob your knees almost hovering over him, he could just-

“shut the fuck up.” he pulls you close and pushes your hips down to sit you down himself, your sloppy cunt meeting his lips and he’s in heaven. he wants to die like this, suffocated by your pussy. you try to shift your weight back onto your knees but he doesn’t let you, holding you down by your ass. when he licks up into you, you lose your resolve entirely. if he was a mess before, now he’s a goner. he’s spitting up into you, making out with your cunt and swirling his tongue along you, along every inch he can. your rock your cunt over his face, lost in pleasure and when his nose bumps your clit your legs nearly close on his head, he groans at the pressure. you’re practically dripping into his mouth and it’s all he could ask for; tears falling down his face just mix in with the mess of liquids running down his face and pooling on his neck and chest. you continue to rock against him, your cushiony thighs closing around his head and rafe feels himself twitch in his pants, he’s so fucking close just from eating you out. but he can’t even find it in him to care, no he’s crying from how good you taste, he’s past the point of caring. when you finally cum around his tongue he comes in his pants, moaning as you scream his name. you’re shaking uncontrollably, riding out your orgasm and thrashing along his face. your thighs press tightly against his head and he continues to drink you in, until finally your legs give out and you fall off him.

“pussy so good i came in my pants and you’re gonna clean it up.” you look at him in a daze, your body moving on its own accord, moving to your knees on the carpet. your body’s shaking but you still manage to claw at his buttons. “good girl.” he smiles down at you, chin and lips wet from your release and he’s not even dreaming of wiping himself clean, he wants it to stain him, seep into his pores. a whine crawls up your throat as you work his pants off, he’s sitting on the couch in front of you and you want to help him so badly. his cock finally springs free and he breathes out in relief, the cool air making him more sensitive after his release. the worst part is he’s still fucking hard. your eyes round at the sight of him, come lining his length, dribbling down the veins and blushed pink top. it’s so pretty you can’t help but stare. rafe slips a hand around your face, pulling you in, making you stop your staring and instead get to work. you might be drooling from the sight, it’s hard to tell because your mouth closes around him and everything is already so wet. a sick squelch resounds in the air as you lick up and down his length, he fights the urge to thrust into the wet tight heat of your mouth. you make sure to clean up his balls, your hand jerking him off while you’re down there, “fuck you’re doing so well baby.”

“missed this rafey” you hum at the taste of his come, thick and gooey on your tongue and the vibration makes him twitch in your mouth. rafe feels so close already, you’ve already cleaned him up, now you’re just cock drunk, taking him down as far as you can and pressing kisses to his tip. he doesn’t want it to end like this no, he’d rather fill you up properly, so he pulls your head off his length with a pop! and you glare at him and whine, like an insolent puppy whose toy was taken away. there’s a delicious sting from the hair he pulled and heat pools in your stomach again, you can’t tell if you’re wet or if it’s rafe’s saliva you like to think it’s both.

“come here.” rafe hoists you onto his lap, giving you two seconds to adjust before he lifts you both up and makes his way to your bedroom. his shirt comes off along with yours and you clamber up the length of your mattress to rest your head on your pillow while you still can. from how angry and hard his cock still is you know it’s gonna be a long night.

“remember your safe word right?” rafe flips you over, your momentary comfort gone just like that, he presses against your back hard. your ass perks into the air while he arches you just so. he’s waiting for your response, because one look at your pussy, glistening from another wave of desire, rafe knows he’s going to find it impossible to hold back. he’s vibrating with a need to fuck you already, dribbles of precum spurting out of him against his stomach. what a waste, there’s a perfect little hole that could use it. he smacks your ass once, lightly just to remind you to use your words.

“yes, fuck me please.” your voice is muffled against your bedsheets, but he hears it perfectly. when his tip presses against your tight hole, he thinks he might be religious. not to god or anything else, just you. you’re sucking in him, holding your cheeks apart for him like you know he likes and he groans at how you feel like silk around him. your cunt’s so warm and tight, rafe thinks he might never leave you again. once his tip is in you remember how to breathe, the initial stretch finally over. he can’t give you the time you need to adjust, he might start crying again, or worse come early. rafe pushes the rest of his inches in, bullying his way in, pressing you into the mattress just so your cunt could give in. you scream at the feeling of him being all the way in, the angle making him nestle against your g-spot while his tip rubs against your cervix. you feel ropes of pre spurt inside you and you feel tears slip down your cheeks from the pain, you know it hurts, you just can’t find it in you to care.

“s’good,” you’re mind is numb, the only thoughts are spiraling around your boyfriend and his stupid long cock. a sick ring of come and your slick circles the base of his length, his pubes soaked from both of you. he can’t hold back any more, not when you’re wiggling your hips for more. rafe pulls out all the way and slaps back into you, pulling you into him just so he can really fill you all the way. the force of his thrust and the way he tip nudges along your walls, grazing where you needed him most, as you screaming in pleasure, your poor pussy closing on him just so he can stay inside. not that it matters he’s hammering in and out of you so fast you think you might get whiplash. his hips drive you down into the mattress, stuffing you as much he can so you don’t run from it, like you’re already trying to do.

“fuck fuck fuck! too much hng rafe i can’t-“ the slap of his hips against yours are almost bruising, he’s pulling you back by a tight hold around you and it’s hard to breathe. there’s a pressure building in you that you don’t recognize and it’s almost painful how bad it feels to go unaddressed, something must be wrong. but rafe can feel himself getting close, just from your pathetic whines and screams.

“you can and you will.” there’s no room for argument when he’s flipping you onto your back, your head jostling and you blink away the tears in your eyes. you want to see him, want to look into his pretty eyes, rafe can’t help but laugh at your desperate expression. no, he’s no too far gone.

“dumb little girl, i could tell you were turned on, you know?” he maneuvers you onto your side, spooning you and pulling your leg over his so he can slip back in. the new angle steals your breath as you try to focus on what he just said, panic seeping into your system.

“wh-no i wasn’t.” you shake your head insolently, he’s rolling his eyes at your meager denial. his thrusts start out slow, testing the limits of how far he can reach, and it’s not far. a huff of annoyance teases the shell of your ear and you gulp at his proximity.

“tell me the truth and i’ll let you come.” it’s a whisper, soft and sweet, you know what’s to come will be anything but.

“fine! you looked so hot covered in blood-“ he grabs under your knee and lifts it up, slamming deeper into you cutting you off. “oh my god-“ rafe can’t handle not being all the way in, he loves the way his head kisses your cervix, how his veins have molded you to fit them, how he can feel come slipping out of you and dribbling down his length since there’s no space for anything. an addiction, one that he won’t give up. “that doesn’t make it-rafe!-okay!” you manage to get out between thrusts

“yeah yeah i get it.” he’s had enough of your lecturing, the arm that’s not holding your knee, loops around your front, closing around your neck and throat. his thick bicep presses against you in a headlock and he leverages the tight grip to pull you back into him, shutting you up finally. the only sounds that can be heard are of your pretty pussy squelching and gasping for him to be back inside. there’s the occasional moan from you when his grip loosens and the curses and groans from him, but mostly the room sounds like a porno. you’re not sure if you came or you ever stopped coming but your pussy feels warm and fuzzy, like it’s just given up on trying to decipher pleasure and pain.

“can’t come-fuck-need to” rafe frustrates himself with how quickly he feels like he needs to come. his balls are pinched tight, aching for release but he can’t stop, he needs to make it right, make it perfect. rafe won’t admit it anyone else but he’s so in love with you he hates coming without looking in your eyes. his hold on your neck releases and you slump forward tears and drool staining the mattress.

“pretty baby, you’ll give me one more yeah?” somehow rafe knows when you’re cumming, you stopped noticing. you nod dumbly, blurry eyes vaguely make out his face as he finally lets you rest on your back. your body aches and your legs haven’t stopped shaking, but you still welcome him with open legs. rafe presses a kiss to your forehead, shoving into you again, his thrusts aren’t so hurried this time, he’s savoring it. the slow drag of his tip inside of you warms you. you stop crying when he lifts your legs, pushing your knees to your chest, he wipes your tears and kisses down into you. the position is familiar, one of your favorites, and you kiss him back, it’s salty and messy but you can taste the words i love you.

“most beautiful girl in the world, fuck ,how did i get so lucky?” he peppers your face with kisses, giggles erupting from your lips and he can’t believe you’re his.

“love you rafey.” you say it so sweetly anyone would think he’s not 9 inches deep inside you, in a mean mating press.

“i love you angel, can i come inside?” your eyes light up, you both rarely do it since birth control is horrible on your body, but you can’t help but love how it feels.

“please…fill me up.” the words make his dick twitch inside you, more precum dribbling out of your cunt.

“fuckkk gonna get you pregnant, then everyone will know you’re mine.” he’s mumbling to himself, rocking back and forth and a whine leaves your lips. you should be concerned with how possessive your boyfriend is, you know that, but the image he paints in your head is too tempting.

“please.” you kiss his right arm that supports his weight next to your head and he smiles down at you. rafe takes it as his signal to pull out and fuck down into you, your mind blanks. it doesn’t take more than a few hard thrusts for the pressure building inside you to finally snap, seeing white under your eyes as you gasp and scream his name. you’re squirting onto him before you realize it, soaking his chest and dick and he keeps fucking you through it until you stop. rafe can’t help but lose himself as you do it, fucking down so brutally you think he might rip your cervix, if it’s even possible, the overstimulation claws at your senses and you fight the urge to push him away, scratching down his back instead. rafe feels his balls pinch and he can’t hold back any longer, you’re pulsing around him riding out your orgasm and he shoots gooey ropes inside of you. thick and never ending, coating your walls and slipping out the sides, the angle at least keeps most of it in, just like he wants it.

“can’t believe you squirted.” when he finally stops spurting into you, he pulls out, your legs falling to your side as you wince at the aches in your body. without the cloud of pleasure you can feel how sore you’ll be tomorrow.

“sorry” you mumble, turning to where he lays beside you and he shakes his head.

“nah baby i’m gonna make you do it every time.” a wolfish smirk graces his features and you decide you’ll never do a sex ban again. you won’t survive it next time.

[sugarwarachan]

roll the dice - ft. sero hanta

pairing: sero hanta x roommate!reader

summary: It's Valentine's Day and Sero does his best to keep his horny thoughts to himself. He doesn't succeed.

cws: smut mdni, face sitting, sero hanta is a pussy-eating KING, dirty talk

based on this prompt list

"Wow," Sero whistles, while you teeter on one heel and hop into the other. That dress hugs every inch of you. "Someone’s lookin’ good. Hot date?"

You laugh, and fuck, he’s such an idiot, because the sound travels straight to his dick. He adjusts himself as subtly as he can and goes back to cooking dinner.

"Something like that.” You swipe on lip gloss in the hallway mirror. "He’s a coworker. I might have mentioned him?"

You’ve mentioned him 17 times. Not like Sero’s counting.

"Make sure he treats you right," is all he says instead, doing his best to ignore the cute little blush tearing across your face as you duck out the door.

Alone on Valentine’s Day, he thinks ruefully, settling his long frame on the couch. Alone on Valentine’s Day with a raging hot case of let-me-fuck-you-right-now for his roommate.

He should have turned down being your roommate the minute he saw you on Denki’s phone. If he had, he wouldn’t be this jealous of some random shithead taking you out for Valentine’s Day.

He considers texting Denki just to have someone to commiserate with, but the guy is probably doing his best to woo Jiro and doesn’t need the distraction.

He sparks up a joint and turns on 13 Going on 30 (so he’s a rom-com guy, sue him), trying not to think about how much better this night would be if you were here.

The door clicks a half hour later, followed by the rap of your heels on the ground. You trudge into the room and slump on the couch right next to him.

“He didn’t even show up,” you whisper into the side of his neck, wrapping your arms around him. He feels a few tears hit his collarbone.

Sero Hanta considers himself a pretty even-keeled type of guy, but wanting to punch this dick’s lights' outs shoots to the top of his to-do list.

“Oh honey, what a fuckin’ dickhole.” His hands tighten on your waist. “Doesn’t deserve someone like you, anyway.”

He probably shouldn’t say that, not when he’s rubbing circles on your hip through the material of your dress, the scorching heat of your body against his impossible to ignore. But he's been thinking it for months now, all of his own attempts at dating tossed to the wayside when he realized he just preferred coming home to you.

“No?” You pull away and delicately wipe away unshed tears. He doesn't know why he finds it so cute, this innate desire to preserve what's left of your mascara. “Who does deserve me, Hanta?”

You grab the joint and drag and his mind goes fuzzy. You’ve never outright called him on it like this before.

“Maybe I do angel, ya ever think of that?”

“Yeah?” There’s that megawatt smile of yours, kicking him in the teeth. “You think of me like that, too?”

It’s new territory for the both of you, admitting to the attraction that Sero realizes has been simmering for weeks.

“Yeah. I think of you all the time.” He cups your face and cocks his head. "We doin' this? You gonna let me show you how I'd treat ya on Valentine's Day?"

You roll your eyes at him affectionately. "Cheesy bastard."

He cuts off your laugh with the press of his mouth.

Sero's not normally one to wax poetic, but something about the way your body instantly sinks into his makes his heart lurch. You kiss him like you've been spending your whole life studying how to do it, and it drives him absolutely insane.

"Knew we'd be good together," he says, grinding the curve of his cock into the cleft between your thighs. "Feel how hard I already am, baby? Just from one little kiss."

You groan into his mouth and start pawing at his clothes.

"I know, I know, want you naked too. Don't fuckin' pout, I think you'll like the idea." He repositions the two of you with him lying down on the couch, you straddling his hips. "Remember when you said you've never sat on a guy's face?"

Your eyes darken with excitement. "I remember."

"What if we change that?" He strokes his thumb under the band of your dress, shimmying it over your hips. The pretty red lace covering your pussy makes his breath catch. "Because you know what's gonna happen if we don't?"

He traces the folds of your pussy through your underwear with the pads of his fingers.

"I'm gonna get inside this perfect fuckin' pussy and embarrass myself. Probably come after two pumps like an idiot because she's just so fucking sweet." He pulls your panties down and drags you up to his face. He catches the little whine of insecurity in your throat at the position.

Your pussy is swollen and begging for attention, arousal clinging to your lips like dew.

"Take a fuckin’ seat, baby, ya think I’ve never done this before?"

He molds his hands around the meat of your hips and thighs, and then Sero feasts, sucking and grinding his chin and nose and tongue up into your cunt. You wail and fall forward, holding yourself steady on the arm of the couch. He doesn't care if he has to hold you up himself; he's in heaven between your thighs, the taste and scent of you all he can fucking think about.

You cum quickly, gasping and shuddering above him as he drinks down your orgasm like fucking water.

"Felt good, didn't it?" he prods, biting your inner thigh and soothing it with a kiss. Your shaky nod makes him grin.

Sero sits backs up with you in his lap, wiping the back of his mouth with a forearm and licking at his lips like a dog. He hopes he smells like you for hours.

Black streaks of mascara run under your lashes. He swipes them away with the back of his thumb. "Sorry honey. You worked hard on this makeup, huh? And I'm just making you cry it off."

It's your turn to cut him off with a kiss.

ahhhhh i've written for him ONCE i hope i did him justice

[nadvs]

first prize desire (one-shot)

pairing rafe cameron x female reader

rating mature 18+

summary your brother’s friend, rafe, is good at a lot of things. hiding his infatuation with you isn’t one of them. one night, you stop teasing him and finally give him what he’s been dreaming of.

tags college au where rafe and reader are varsity volleyball players. reader is a noncommittal f-girl. rafe is down bad for her. mentions of past infidelity. lots of angst and some light smut. not a happy ending.

» masterlist

note hello, i’m back!! a little while ago, i got an ask about a f-girl reader who’s been hurt in the past and is a little mean to rafe and i’m obsessed at the thought of him pining and lowkey being a simp for her?? this one goes out to my girlies with trust issues <3 divider credit.

You have to be doing it on purpose.

Rafe’s grip on his gym bag tightens as he steps out of the men’s locker room. The door shuts behind him with a heavy thud.

The girls’ team has the court now. You’re by the end line closest to him, only a few feet away as you stretch. You’re bent over with your back arched and he slowly paces towards the gym exit, his mouth going dry at the way you look.

The sight of you in those little shorts always throws his thoughts into a frenzy. Seeing your ass perched in the air like that makes him feel even more disoriented.

The varsity volleyball schedule is simultaneously the best and worst thing that has happened to him. Twice a week, Rafe steps out into the gym, exhausted from practice, to see you warming up, always tormenting him with how good you look.

You stepped into his life a few months ago at the beginning of the school year. His friend had mentioned that his sister would be starting college and that she plays volleyball, too.

The first time you came over to the house he shares with your brother and a few other guys on the team, he knew he was going to like being around you.

Until he got to know what a tease you are.

You stand up from your stretch, placing your hands on your hips as you look over your shoulder.

“Hey, Rafe,” you sing-song, your voice sweet as sugar. His hair is wet from his post-practice shower, hanging over his forehead. “Your hair’s cute like that.”

He was right. You are doing it on purpose. You knew he was there and you purposely put yourself on display for him like that, like a treat he knows he can’t have. For fuck’s sake. He’s never wanted a girl this bad.

Rafe’s lips flatten as he nods in greeting, stopping in his tracks. You’re not sure if the rosy tint to his cheeks is a product of a rough practice or a distressed blush from having seen you in such a suggestive position.

“Are you coming to watch our game tomorrow?” you ask, just loud enough over the voices echoing through the gym.

Rafe steps closer. You adore it about him, how he always looks like he’s been hinging on a opportunity to talk to you.

“Should I?” he asks.

“Sure. I know you like any excuse to look at me,” you reply with a shrug.

He scoffs, a mix of incredulity and amusement. He’s obvious about how bad he wants you, he knows he is, and that’s why it makes it ten times worse that you toy with him like this.

“You never watch our games,” he responds.

“I’m a busy girl,” you laugh.

He knows that. And he wishes he didn’t. He wishes he didn’t have to see you jump from guy to guy, snuggled up to a different one at every other party, never staying long enough to call any of them your boyfriend.

A couple of weekends ago, Rafe had been one too many beers deep. Pressed against the wall at a house party, he gazed at you through heavy lids and asked if you were ever going to find a guy you liked enough to actually keep around. You laughed and told him, “I’m not the commitment type.”

“I’ll see if I can make it,” Rafe says, because even though he’s a goner when it comes to you, he tries to keep at least some dignity intact and feign indifference.

“Hope you can,” you respond, smirking. His eyes go a little brighter. You know that means he’ll come.

You’re a whirlwind, a storm constantly passing over him, leaving him spinning. Time and time again, he gets just close enough to the edge of thinking he has a chance with you, and then you pull back.

Your flirty looks and dirty jokes are maddening and any time he’s tried to do anything about it, you’d say you’re not going to complicate things with your brother’s friend, especially when he lives with him.

Off limits, you’d once whispered in his ear at a party, but your body was pressed up against his so tightly that it didn’t seem like you wanted a boundary between you two at all.

Rafe’s name echoes from behind him. He turns to see your brother leaving the locker room, donning a confused expression.

“You leaving without me?” he laughs, walking towards him.

Rafe would never tell him that he purposely rushed out to get a glimpse of you.

⫘⫘⫘

The minutes before the start of a game is when you feel the most pressure. More than during the actual match. You know if you don’t feel proud of your performance, you fall into a funk nobody can pull you out of.

You rub your palms together as you wait for your turn in a spiking drill. The other team just arrived, warming up on the other side of the court.

You thought you didn’t mind these opponents all that much. Their team is usually weaker than yours. But they have a new player and seeing her familiar face makes your blood boil.

Rafe makes it to the gym after class, two sets into the match. It’s 1-1 and the air is heavy with tension. The gym is quiet as he settles in the bleachers, the thumps of hands hitting the volleyball rolling across the court.

You’re panting as you hurry around, dodging your teammates while never letting the ball hit the floor.

You look more stressed than usual.

He almost gets right up again to leave, irritated at himself. This is the crap a boyfriend would do; come watch your games, worry about the anger etched on your pretty face. Yet all he gets called is a friend while you entertain other guys right in front of him.

But then he smirks a second later when he sees you frustratingly mutter something to your teammate after the opposing team wins a point.

Rafe revels in seeing your temper come out. It’s cute. And it makes him feel better about his.

A few minutes in, though, he sees anger flare up in you like never before. A girl on the opposing team blocks your spike and seems to murmur something to you.

You fight back, loud enough for him to hear. You snap at her to shut up. One of your teammates holds you back. The ref blows the whistle.

It’s a misconduct foul. Something’s up with you and he doesn’t know what.

The rest of the game has an added level of intensity. It results in a loss for the home team. You’re wearing the disappointment in your expression.

Rafe decides to leave. You always take your sweet time after a match and he’s not about to make an even bigger fool of himself by waiting outside for a girl who messes with him for wanting her so bad.

But still, because he’s so pathetically into you, he texts you later on: rough game. you good?

You don’t respond.

⫘⫘⫘

The next day, Rafe hasn’t gotten over you ignoring him. He’s not really one to let go of things all that quick.

And he’s had enough. Of the teasing and the flirting and the indifference you have towards him while all he does is long for you. You have all the power and he’s sick of it.

It’s not hard for him to find the girl you’d argued with on the court. It’s a matter of searching on her college’s athletic department website, learning her name, and finding her on social media.

He chats with her, invites her to his house party the next night, and because it’s easy for him to get any girl to agree to hang out with him, unless she’s you, she accepts.

He can’t wait for you to see him with her.

⫘⫘⫘

You make it to the house the next night, showing enough skin that makes Rafe’s stomach grow tight. You nudge your brother’s shoulder in greeting, then shuffle closer to Rafe see him nursing a beer.

“Hey,” you say over the music. He towers over you, a crease between his brows. He wears everything on his handsome face, incredibly easy to read.

“You mad at me for not texting back?” you ask playfully, squeezing his forearm. “Sorry. I was in a shitty mood after that game.”

“Why?” he asks, reluctantly softening up. You hardly ever show him this side of yourself. You’re usually a few drinks in if you do.

“Did you see that girl I yelled at?”

He nods, Adam’s apple bobbing with a nervous swallow.

“I know her,” you explain, “and she’s not very nice.”

“You’re not very nice,” Rafe jokes.

“Then imagine how bad she is if I’m the one calling her that,” you say with a soft laugh.

“What’d she do?” he asks.

As expected, you wave a dismissive hand, rolling your eyes, blocking him out.

“Nothing worth repeating,” you reply. You bring your hand up to his bicep, squeezing the hard muscle. “Did you go to the gym today?”

Rafe’s eyes dart down to his beer, the attention from you another hit to his bloodstream, a dopamine rush he’s been missing.

“Hit a PR,” he replies.

“Wow,” you flirt. “We should go to the gym together. You’d be a good personal trainer.”

“You couldn’t handle me,” he replies.

You bite your bottom lip, smiling up at him. Nobody gets your heart racing quite like Rafe does.

And it’s why you stay away from him. Getting involved with a brother’s friend is already a bad idea just because it could get messy, but really, it’s the effect he has on you that scares you away.

You’ve been burned. The summer before college started, you discovered your serious boyfriend had never really respected you. You’re pretty sure someone’s first love always leaves a wound. But finding out they were cheating on you the whole time leaves a scar that never closes back up all the way.

“I don’t know,” you reply, pushing away your thoughts. “Pretty sure you couldn’t handle me.”

Rafe’s pink lips part as he looks down again. He shuffles in place so faintly that it’s nearly imperceptible.

“Not like you’d give me a chance to try,” he mumbles with a defeated smile.

No. You wouldn’t. Because the more you get to know Rafe, a man who at first seems hard and aggressive, but really just wears his heart on his sleeve, the more you can see yourself falling for him.

His intensity is overwhelming. It’s something you don’t see in most people. He’s a beautiful rarity of a man and you stay far away from any kind of real intimacy with him, because while you can hook up with other guys with no attachments, tangling yourself up with Rafe would make you susceptible to another wound.

“You know you could get any girl you want, right?” you say to him, voice gently dropping into a serious tone you don’t often use with him.

His phone buzzes in a staccato. He pulls it out of his pocket. Damn it.

“Hey, I’m here,” she says when he answers.

“You’re here?” he blankly repeats.

“You invited someone?” you tease. “And you’re standing here flirting with me? Shameful.”

You offer him a smile to show him you’re kidding around. The dull sting you feel from knowing he’s probably talking to a girl is a good reminder of why you keep him at an arm’s length.

It may not be reasonable to be a little annoyed, considering you’re always running around with different guys right in front of him, but you can’t help it.

Rafe hangs up, a tinge of regret pinching his chest. It took a few seconds with you to realize his spitefulness just fucked things up.

“Go get your girl,” you say with raised brows, stepping aside. “I need a drink.”

“Hey, it’s…” Rafe’s face pinches with concern, leaning to be closer to you. “Don’t be pissed off at me.”

“Pissed off?” You usually do a great job feigning indifference around him. You hope he doesn’t somehow see the crack in your armor.

“It’s that girl,” he replies. “The one from…”

“The game?” you say soberly.

Rafe hates the way your smile drops. The way your eyes search his face for an explanation.

“Whatever,” you reply after a beat. “Do what you want.”

It’s kind of a sick thrill to have the upperhand for once. He’s flustered when you tease, but now, your eyes are sharp with frustration, your lips turned down in a scowl that shouldn’t be as adorable as it is.

“You sure?” he says. You nod curtly.

“Not like I’m your girlfriend or anything.”

He’s sure you say it just to twist the dagger already lodged in his heart. It works.

⫘⫘⫘

Your stomach is in a knot. You’re at the back of the living room, purposely as far away from Rafe as you can be.

And she’s there, looking up at him with a sickeningly bright smile. The same smile she used on your ex. The same smile you’re sure she wore when she texted you how it’d been ‘weighing on her soul’ that she’s been sneaking around with him.

It was all bullshit. You know she was proud to play a hand in your heartbreak. She never looked torn up about it at all. If she did, she wouldn’t have provoked you at your past match.

Missed, she’d said mockingly. It took everything in you not to hit her.

Again, you’re inches away from doing it. Every minute she stays here, you get closer. You wouldn’t normally be angry at the woman your boyfriend cheated with if she didn’t know. If she was a stranger, she wouldn’t have owed you any loyalty.

But she knew. She was your friend.

You’ve been trying not to care anymore. You started this year with the intention to leave all the high school shit behind and have fun and not give your heart to a man. Not for a long time.

But seeing her brings it all back.

“What’s up?” you hear. You look up at your brother.

He knows how your relationship ended. When he heard what your ex did to you, he offered to beat the shit out of him, but no amount of revenge ever felt like it could undo your pain.

He never met your ex-friend. He has no idea who the woman Rafe is flirting with is.

“The music sucks,” you reply, wincing as the bass reverberates through the room.

“You always had shitty taste,” he replies. You crack a smile. It falls when you remember how he’d said the same about your ex, long before the breakup.

“I need a breather,” you say.

It doesn’t happen very often, so when you see worry wash over your big brother’s face, it jolts you a little.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you lie. “Just need to spare my eardrums.”

He huffs a laugh, gently pushing you as you step away from him.

⫘⫘⫘

Come upstairs.

Rafe stares down at the text from you, sent three minutes ago. He looks up at the girl he invited as she comes back to him, arm linked with a friend she’d called to join the party.

He’s stiff as they make introductions. Then he tells them he’ll be right back.

Rafe’s bedroom is lived in, but it’s not quite messy. Clothes are strewn across an open drawer and on the back of his desk chair, but his textbooks are neat on the shelf and his bed is made.

You turned on his dim nightstand lamp. You stare ahead at the calendar on his closet door, practices and games written in black pen.

You lean against the headboard, squeezing your fingers, teetering towards crying. It’s a sick joke to like a guy again just to watch the same woman enamour him.

The door opens with a soft click, music spilling in for a moment.

Rafe has dreamed of this, coming up to see you in his bed. But in his dreams, you’re not staring at him like he just massively fucked up.

He doesn’t say a word. He only looks at you with confusion.

“I take it back,” you say, sitting up. “I don’t want her here.”

“What?” he says.

“Tell her to leave.”

Hope warms his core. Are you jealous?

“It’s my house,” he answers flippantly, giving you the same blasé attitude you’ve always given him.

You scoff. He crosses the room and sits at the foot of his bed, the mattress sinking with his weight. He’s never heard this thinness in your voice before.

“Can you just do it? Please?” you say shakily.

“What happened between you two?”

“You know what?” you scoff frustratingly, swinging your legs over the edge. “Fuck it. I’ll just go.”

“Stop,” he says sternly. “Tell me.”

He may have never seen you this vulnerable, but you’ve never seen him this mad. At least, not at you.

You thought Rafe had a soft spot for you. It hurts that it doesn’t seem to be there anymore. But then he sighs, head tilting slightly as he takes your hand.

“If you– you…” he begins, words fast and tumbling together. You’ve noticed he stammers when he’s on edge. “If you need me to kick her out, then, fine.”

“Really?” you say.

He sighs your name in exhausted resignation, looking up at the ceiling. You’re not jealous. You just really don’t like this girl. It has nothing to do with him and that hurts.

He nods in response. He knows you know he’d do anything for you.

Despite your instinct telling you to call an end to the conversation, the warmth of his hand on yours is piercing. You look down at your lap, turning his big hand over, calluses on his fingertips similar to yours from volleyball.

He gazes at you, his pulse picking up as your eyelashes stay low over your eyes, blinking quickly.

“I had a boyfriend,” you say quietly. “He cheated on me. With her.”

Rafe’s body goes cold. The irritation he was feeling has been replaced by biting guilt. He would’ve told her not to even bother coming in if you had just shared the truth.

“I didn’t know,” he murmurs. The shame is worse with every second that passes. He got what he wanted; he hurt you. And he hates himself for it.

“Yeah,” you say. You find his eyes, bottomless seas of blue. “There’s a lot about me you don’t know.”

“I don’t want it to be like that,” he admits. “And I make it pretty damn obvious.”

You look down again, huffing a quiet laugh.

“Yeah, you do,” you reply.

You’ve always felt a sense of control over Rafe, but it’s chipping away, pieces being taken from you and given to him. You shouldn’t have opened this wound. Because now, you just want to smother it with temporary bandages.

Rafe’s jaw tenses as he watches your hand on his. Silence settles between you, your breaths heavy, the music muffled.

He’s not sure what’s next.

“Don’t tell anyone,” you say.

“I won’t,” he rasps.

“Not about that,” you say. “Well… yeah, about that. But I meant about this.”

You shift to straddle him, the backs of your thighs resting on his lap. He meets your eyes as your noses nearly brush together.

You lean in. His breath stops when your lips meet his.

His heart-rate skyrockets. Fuck. This is really happening. His hands find your thighs, fingers pressing into your flesh.

You gently grind up against him as your kisses grow hungrier, mouths opening, breaths shortening.

You take him in, the smell of his aftershave and the taste of his tongue, as your arms link around his broad shoulders. You already feel better, feeling him hold you and kiss you like this.

He’s getting hard. It makes fire swirl in your stomach.

“Tell me,” you whisper against his mouth, desperate to feel even better, “how bad you want me.”

“You’re all I fucking think about,” he admits breathily.

“Which parts of me do you think about?”

“Everything,” he groans. “Fucking everything.”

You wish he would’ve just said something physical to solidify this as the casual hook-up it is. You can’t handle it being more.

“We’ll keep this a secret, okay?” you whisper.

“I know.” Rafe kisses you again, willing to say anything just to keep this going.

You gently push his shoulders so he lies back. Clothes are clumsily shoved off, kisses grow messy, and once you feel all of him, your head swims with euphoria, blocking out the impending regret.

You stay on top to at least hold onto some of the control you have left.

He comes with a groan, clinging onto your waist with trembling fingers as if you’ll run away from him.

But you do run away. It’s over and you sit up and scramble to put your clothes on again, the high gone, the crash on its way.

“Shit,” you whisper.

Rafe’s smile fades, his chest heaving. He sits up.

“Why are you acting like you regret it?” he asks.

He wants to give you his shirt, stay in bed with you, trace his fingers over your skin and tell you how badly he’s always wanted you.

You look at him with furrowed brows.

“We can’t tell anyone.”

“You already said that,” he mutters. “It’s not like we have to give details, but… nobody’s going to lose their shit if we’re together. Your brother isn’t like that.”

“No,” you shake your head. “This was just sex.”

It’s not a sudden break. His heart cracks slowly. It’s a fracture, spreading through his chest. He’s empty.

“So, I’m just…” He scoffs, tongue jutting under his cheek. “I’m just another one of the guys you do this to.”

“Don’t,” you say softly. “I told you I don’t date.”

You did, but he thought he was different.

You stand, smoothing your hair.

“Because of one asshole?” he murmurs, angrily picking up his t-shirt.

It hurts that something you told him in a vulnerable moment is ammo now. He’s being harsh and you know you are, too, but it’s the last thing you need right now.

“Don’t bring it up again,” you say with a strain in your voice. “Any of it. I knew I…”

Your throat starts to feel raw as you pace past him towards the door, desperate to get home and be swallowed in your blankets. Alone. Like you should be. Not chasing temporary relief in hook-ups.

“What did you know?” Rafe says to your back, tone softened. His anger is gone. It takes one glimpse into your pain to erase his own. He just wants to make you feel better.

“I knew I couldn’t trust you,” you murmur, staring at the door handle. “I can’t trust anyone.”

You leave. You gave him what he thought he wanted most, but he can see now that this hollow version of having you is the last thing he’d ever want.

You’ve ticked him off your list. You’re done. He’s in your rearview now, a quick hook-up that you wish you didn’t have.

⫘⫘⫘

You’ve been home for less than five minutes when your phone buzzes with a text from Rafe.

Make it home okay?

You swallow hard and respond: yes. didn’t mean to freak out. friends?

Rafe chews on his lip as he stares at his phone. He hasn’t left his bedroom.

yeah, he replies. There’s no point in pretending he doesn’t want you, even if you push him back into the role he’d been playing before.

Fine. He’ll be your fucking friend. He already lost his pride long ago. But tonight is the first time he’s truly lost the hope he had in you.

(the end)

if you want notifications on when i post my fics, follow @xorafe-library and turn on notifications 💘

[sylus-doll]

Synopsis: Sylus has always lived a lonely life, unfamiliar with pleasant company. Being with you again is something he must get used to. He's learning how to, and so are you.

Warnings: Lowkey doesn't make sense because the author is exhausted but wanted to churn something out for you guys. Also mentions of blood. Might be a little angsty.

Author's note: I've gotten busy recently, so I won't be able to write as often. Sorry! I come bearing lowkey dependant Sylus. Comments and reblogs are appreciated! <3

Throughout his life, Sylus has spent all his time alone. No one would count enemies as company, even if they do trail him and keep an eye on his every move. They were the ones who wanted to see him fall off his throne; cause and spectate his suffering. A walking target. Sure, he had Mephisto and the twins he took under his wing... But could a mechanical bird count as a friend? Or a pair of twins who work directly under him, following his commands? No, that is obedience.

Sylus did not have anyone to call his own. No one to trade secrets with or share his warmth. And in turn it has made him cold, self-reliant, for he cannot trust in another person. He had never learned how. But he takes comfort in the teachings he does know— the ones of his only love. Melodies dance in the air, a comforting tune. He attempts to hum along, taking pride in the fact that he is able to unlike the past. A respite he is allowed to have in this harsh world.

When the both of you are reunited— albeit, unknowingly on your part— Sylus is at a loss. He had thought that you, too, would remember the past just as he did. Yet you stare into his eyes with the guarded malice of a stranger. It is a gaze he should be used to by now. And he is... Just not from you. Where has his beloved's familiar softness gone? Only your fierce claws and teeth remain. Sylus does not know how to fix this. He was never taught to build relationships or tenderly lower defenses with the patience of a saint.

Your relationship is rocky at first; like oil and water. Both of your lives are completely different from the other. With the Hunter Association actively hunting down Sylus, whatever you have with him is illegal. Forbidden. Although... Surely they would not mind if you stuck around? Gathering intel for them could be useful in the future. This is fine, you are simply using him, you are not delusional. Humans have always desired for what they cannot have.

“You're sticking around for intel on Onychinus? Well then, be my guest. Don't be shy when using me.” Sylus's sardonic smile is etched into your mind.

He tells no one that being of use to you is the only way he knows how to keep you close to him.

Be disgusted, you will yourself. Be repulsed, resent him for all he has done and will do. You will only come to regret being so entangled with his life. This is insane and you are supposed to be a good, law-abiding citizen of Linkon. A hunter. Yet you cannot help feeling like prey— engulfed by a predator who kills and comes back to you with blood soaked hands. Most times, even his own. How will you ever learn to hate someone who learned to be vulnerable with you?

Over time, you start to notice that Sylus is quite... lonely. You are the only one who checks up on him, through text or call. The only one who visits, who teases and jokes, who surprises. You, you, you. Comfortable and happy with someone so dangerous. So of course he eventually craves your presence in your absence. Sylus will make up whatever excuse, put himself in any situation, just to be able to spend some time with you. When it ends, he is distraught.

“You're abandoning me when I'm no longer useful to you? Your skill in being heartless is assuring.” His tone is teasing, as always. But his eyes hold a far-off melancholy.

It feels as though your heart has been punctured with shattered pieces of a fragile thing.

“Abandon? You're sorely mistaken. Useful or not, you're stuck with me, you have no other choice.” You reach out, grabbing his hand.

Something new for Sylus to learn; that you will not throw him away when he does not serve any purpose to you. You are his companion— his beloved who cares for and loves him. Not because you owe him or as an obligation. Simply because you do. And you are both still learning. It will be okay. Having each other means neither of you will ever have to face the cruelties of this world alone.

[crystallinestars]

NSFW Alphabet - Mydeimos

Mydei won the poll so here is the promised alphabet. I hope I got him decently in-character. This was written prior to 3.1 so some things may not be accurate. If the upcoming story quest reveals information that goes against what I have written or gives me a different perspective on Mydei's character, I will go back and change things. I really hope I won't have to, though ;_;

Mydei x Fem!Reader

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

After the initial passion of sex passes, the blanket of lust lifts from his mind and Mydei is left with intense feelings of protectiveness and tenderness towards you. He wants nothing more than to wrap his arms around you, bury his nose in your hair or the crook of your neck and never let go. During moments like these, Mydei’s softer side comes out and you might hear him murmur praise about how well you did, how good you felt, or feel him leave a soft kiss on your lips or temple. He also enjoys draping you across his chest and idly rubbing his hand along your back as you both bask in the sweet afterglow of your lovemaking. If you melt under his touch, his chest swells with pride at seeing you so sated and relaxed because of him.

Though he tries to keep his strength in check, Mydei can sometimes get absorbed in the moment and fuck you fast and rough which is why he tries to soothe and take care of you afterwards the best he knows how. Aside from the soothing back rubs, he also gets you some pomegranate juice as refreshment and asks if you’re feeling okay. A twinge of guilt will go through him if you complain about feeling sore or being too weak to walk, and to atone for being so rough on you, Mydei will volunteer to fetch you anything you might need and carry you wherever you need to go until you’re strong enough to walk on your own. He may come off as a brute, but he does genuinely care about your wellbeing.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Mydei hates his immortal body, but he does take pride in his physique which he honed over countless years of training and fierce battles. He is unashamed about his appearance and has no qualms about walking around practically shirtless. He doesn’t do this to for some conceited desire to be admired, though he would be a liar if he said he didn’t like your appreciative stares. Mydei’s ego soars whenever he catches you checking him out, and he smirks and teases you about it with something like “Like what you see?” Or “You’ll burn holes into my body if you stare that much.”

On you, Mydei is fond of many parts of your body, but he likes your breasts, hips, lower belly, butt, and thighs in particular. Basically, the parts of you that are soft and easy to grab. The sight of your ass jiggling or breasts bouncing every time he thrusts into you greatly appeals to him, but even outside of sex, his hands often gravitate towards your thighs or stomach just because he likes how they feel. His body is all hard planes and firm muscle, but yours is soft and pliant. He enjoys that contrast.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Mydei likes seeing his cum decorate your skin, and if you let him, he’ll paint your chest, lower belly, or ass in his seed. He’s also a fan of cumming inside because the sight of his cum dripping out of your pussy sends a surge of primal satisfaction through him.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Lovemaking with Mydei can get passionate and a little rough sometimes, resulting in him sporting scratch marks along his shoulders and back courtesy of your nails. The prince is so used to tolerating pain and his injuries healing quickly, that he usually doesn’t even notice the scratches. He made the mistake of walking out in public in his usual shirtless manner with his back all scratched up, only to get a few knowing looks from his soldiers and a few concerned questions about whether he got into a scuffle with a manticore.

Mydei just brushed the questions off and let his men think whatever they liked about the origin of these marks, though internally he wanted to disappear on the spot. He would not tell the truth, because as far as Mydei was concerned, it was none of their business. His private life was not something his men needed to know about.

After this incident, Mydei made sure to wait a while for the scratches to heal before heading out to avoid encountering such awkward questions again. You didn’t get off scott-free for this, however, and Mydei got his little revenge by marking up your neck in hickeys and not acting the least bit remorseful when you scolded him for it.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Mydei has had one sexual encounter with a one-night stand in the past to indulge his curiosity about sex, but he didn’t explore beyond that. Something about using each other’s bodies to get off while not really caring about one another left a sour taste in his mouth, so he preferred to wait until he got a long-term partner. Plus, his statuses as the crown prince of Castrum Kremnos and the face of the Kremnoan detachment meant he couldn’t afford having a reputation as a playboy by sleeping around. Any negative image he accrued would cascade down onto his people and potentially subject them to more harassment than they already faced in Okhema.

Mydei sees no shame in being sexually inexperienced and will outright tell you he’s not the most knowledgeable about sex. Similarly, he won’t judge you for your amount of experience, be it larger or smaller than his. It’s not a big deal to him because he knows it can be easily changed with some time and the right partner.

Despite his inexperience, Mydei approaches sex with confidence. He may not know everything, but he is willing to learn and adapt to your preferences and hopes you return the favor in kind. Tell him what you like and how you like it, and he’ll adjust his technique accordingly. If you’re also unsure about what you like, then Mydei will experiment to see what gets the best reactions out of you. Do you like a rougher or gentler touch? Do you like dirty talk? What if he teases your nipples just so? Don’t be shy to communicate what feels good to you or not, he wants to know how he can best please you. When it’s your turn to explore his body, Mydei will similarly give you feedback about what feels good to him or how you could adjust your technique to make it better. He may be taciturn, but he understands the importance of communication during such moments.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Mydei has a lot of positions he likes. One of his absolute favorites is doggystyle because it gives him a nice view of your back and a tighter squeeze around his cock. It’s not rare for Mydei to become mesmerized by the way your ass jiggles each time his hips snap to yours, and sometimes he can’t resist the urge to lightly spank your butt. Doggystyle is also nice because he can cover your body with his and mark your shoulders/neck, giving him the primal sense you’re entirely his.

He also enjoys cowgirl and reverse cowgirl. Letting you set the pace and take pleasure from his body gets Mydei going, not to mention he has a delicious view of your figure and easy access to all your curves. His hands grip your hips to help you bounce on his cock or trace the curve of your ribs to your breasts, feeling the softness of your flesh. The sight of you riding him like that can sometimes be too arousing for Mydei to handle and he struggles to hold back from thrusting upwards into you and taking over the pace. He’s a fan of reverse cowgirl for similar reasons as above, with the added bonus of watching your ass bounce on his lap. He frequently squeezes your butt when you ride him in reverse.

Additionally, Mydei enjoys sex against the wall. It can be with you facing the wall with your arms braced against it while he pounds into you from behind, or with your back against the wall and a leg hitched around his hip. He is also strong enough to support your entire weight with his arms, so there are times where fucks you while standing by holding you up by your thighs with your arms and legs wrapped around him.

If doing missionary, Mydei prefers hiking your legs up onto his shoulders or lifting your hips up for a deeper penetration and likes watching your expression melt in bliss when he hits just the right spot inside you.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Mydei is a straightforward and serious person, and that aspect of him is also present in the bedroom. He approaches sex with seriousness and honesty, so he means everything he says. If he says he’ll fuck you until you’re completely spent, believe him because that’s exactly what he’ll do to you. In the same vein, Mydei will take whatever you say seriously unless it’s an obvious joke, though if you have the energy to joke around then it means he’s not fucking you good enough.

Though he’s not one to act silly, Mydei isn’t without a sense of humor. It’s not rare for him to send sarcastic jabs or teasing quips to poke fun at you in a lighthearted manner all the while smirking like a handsome bastard.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He doesn’t fuss over his pubic hair and mostly leaves it alone but does occasionally trim it if he thinks it’s grown too long. His bush has the same ombre as the hair on his head—blond at the roots and reddish at the tips. Also has a bit of a happy trail but can shave it off if you ask.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Mydei isn’t the type to shower you with sweet nothings during intercourse, but he does show his love through touch. His caresses can range from tender to passionate depending on the mood. If the mood is sweet and loving, Mydei will touch you with a rare gentleness. Things like cradling your cheek in his palm, holding you close against his body, and long kisses as well as eye contact are some of the ways he expresses his feelings for you. His eyes convey more than any words he says because there is no mistaking the love and affection in his golden depths.

If the mood is passionate and carnal, Mydei’s touches are rougher. They’re imbued with his desire to possess and protect you, as well as his lust for you. These manifest in the form of hot kisses along your neck, nibbling of his teeth against your skin, the firm grasp of hands at your hips, and the hard press of his chest against your back. Mydei also has a tendency to growl “Mine” because he wants to make you his.

The prince rarely says “I love you” even during sex, but whenever you say it to him, his heart melts. He won’t show it outright, but those words hit him deep and dredge up soft and warm feelings that make him want to embrace you and never let go. So, he settles for slowing his thrusts and holding you close while pressing his mouth to yours to keep you quiet lest your words dredge up something else within him. After the blissful high of orgasm, he nuzzles into your neck and murmurs a quiet “I love you too” back.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

As the last prince of Kremnos and leader of the detachment army, Mydei carries heavy burdens on his shoulders. While he can unwind with a friendly spar or some delicious food, sometimes sexual gratification is just what his mind needs to momentarily forget his duties.

Mydei masturbates to relax and quiet his mind, so he prefers to do it either in the bath or before bed. He only masturbates in the privacy of his bedchambers where he won’t be disturbed easily, and even then, he keeps his voice down. The most one would hear from his jack off sessions are quiet grunts and breathless pants.

He typically doesn’t think about anything specific when masturbating, but after he developed feelings for you, his thoughts would sometimes drift to you and imagine what it would feel like if it was your hand wrapped around his length instead, how your body would feel under his hands, or how you would moan and writhe under him while coupling. Thoughts of you excite him and get him off quicker than usual, but he always felt ashamed for thinking of you in such an inappropriate manner. The following day he would struggle to look you in the eye because of the guilt he felt, though once you became a couple, such feelings of guilt vanished.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Mydei leans more dominant and prefers to be in charge in the bedroom. He’s open to you taking the lead and asking him to do specific things like eating you out or letting you explore his body, but he will not give up control entirely. If you lack the assertiveness to lead properly or test his patience too much, he will take back control.

One of Mydei’s biggest kinks is marking. He loves to nip and suck at your skin to leave dark hickeys on your neck, chest, and inner thighs. When he gets particularly riled up, he also bites at your shoulder. It’s never hard enough to draw blood, but it does leave a mark in the shape of his teeth and may bruise. He admires his marks after the fact, feeling a sense of satisfaction that you have physical proof of being his, but will apologize if you scold him for it. He’ll buy you a garment that covers your neck and shoulders if it becomes a problem.

Mydei also likes it when you mark him in return. Feeling your hands and mouth on his skin claiming him as yours makes him feel desired, which is a huge turn-on. The best places to mark are his neck and back because they can get a groan of pleasure out of him when you find those sensitive spots to bite down on. Due to the fast regenerative abilities of his body, your marks don’t last long on his skin, though Mydei won’t be opposed if you want to renew them. Just be prepared for him to return the favor.

He's also into light spanking. It’s nothing hardcore like a full-on spanking session with crops and paddles but rather an occasional smack on your ass with his palm while he takes you from behind. He just enjoys seeing the way your butt jiggles and can’t resist the urge to spank it. If you’re not into it, Mydei will stop without question.

If you’re not against it, Mydei is open to trying anal sex for something novel. He will need some guidance and education on how to do it safely but he’s willing to take things slow and prep you properly to avoid injury.

The prince loves it when you wrap your arms and legs around him. Grip the backs of his thighs, lock your legs behind his back, gab his butt, or loop your arms around his neck and tug him towards you. It makes him feel like you desire him and are welcoming him into your body which he finds hot.

If you’re into it, Mydei will pin you down against the bed or wall. Things such as pinning your wrists above your head or pressing you down into the mattress with his weight are his favorite ways to immobilize you if you’ve been teasing him too much. He won’t do this if you’re uncomfortable with it, though.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

For the most part, Mydei prefers to have sex in the privacy of your home. Any room and surface is fine, though he does like the bed a little more because it makes for a comfortable place to rest and bask in the afterglow afterwards.

Though not his preferred choice, Mydei can also fuck you in more risky places. He’s brush off your advances and tell you to wait until you get home to get frisky, but his patience is not infinite. If you tease and provoke him enough, his patience will snap and he’ll drag you over to a secluded corner with a growl that if you want to be fucked so bad then fine, you’ll get what you want but you had best keep your voice down if you don’t want to be caught. If an unfortunate soul happens to see you getting steamy, the deadly glare Mydei gives them will be a silent threat for them to keep quiet and pretend they never saw anything or else.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Mydei is a simple man that prefers a straightforward approach. He’s not good at playing elaborate mind games and chasing after you in a game of cat-and-mouse as it will leave him frustrated. Just tell him you want him. Press your boobs or rub your ass against him, run your hands along his body in a suggestive manner, grinding your hips against him, whisper dirty things in his ear—whatever method you employ, just make your desire for him clear. As long as your interest is genuine and you make him feel wanted, Mydei will take the bait.

Heated make-out sessions also work to arouse him. When the kiss turns hot and heavy, it ignites his lust and makes him want to feel more of you. If you trail your lips down his throat and bite at the pulse point or lightly scratch down his back, it is game over for him. You’ll be hoisted into his arms and carried to the bed.

Other things you can try is dressing up. Wearing sexy and flattering lingerie or a cute and sexy cat outfit complete with a cat ear headband can work to turn Mydei on. Wearing just a towel or nothing at all also works.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

As mentioned previously, Mydei doesn’t like giving up complete control. He lets you experiment with kinks and take the lead if you express an interest in doing so but don’t think you can toy with him for your own amusement. The crown prince complies with your whims out of respect and a desire to indulge you but if you push his buttons too much that compliance will fly out the window.

Mydei hates being edged and teased. A little bit is fine, but he lacks the patience to put up with it for long periods of time. It quickly goes from being arousing to being annoying. He also dislikes being made to beg. Mydei is far too prideful to debase himself like that and will grow irritated if you pressure him to beg you to let him cum or anything similar. In both scenarios, he’s far more likely to break out of any restraints you have on him and turn the tables on you. You’ll be the one begging him, darling.

The crown prince is also not into roleplay. He would find it difficult to get into a role since he’s not the best actor and just finds the whole ordeal too cumbersome and cringey. He’d much rather skip the acting and get straight to the good part where he gets to have his hands on you and his face between your legs.

Additionally, Mydei won’t go out of his way to hurt you. He can wrap a hand around your throat but won’t squeeze in fear of actually choking you, neither will he harshly pull at your hair or hit you. He can manhandle you to display his strength but only if he knows you’re into it. Otherwise, he will never force you into anything against your will.

Finally, Mydei hates the idea of sharing you with someone else. Watching you touch another person so intimately and seeing you being pleasured by someone that isn’t him sparks feelings of intense jealously and resentment in him. He would see red and feel sick to his stomach, so threesomes are a huge turnoff for him.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Mydei has a slight preference for receiving but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t like giving. Quite the opposite, in fact. Burying his face between your legs and watching you come undone from just his mouth? It turns him on and inflates his ego. Mydei loves watching you moan and writhe while he eats you out, and he easily holds your hips still so you can’t get away while he firmly sucks on your clit. He also feels encouraged by you tugging at his hair when something he does feels good for you.

Watching and hearing you unravel under his tongue is one of the hottest things for Mydei, and he’ll crawl up your limp and sated body with his face smeared in your slick and a feral, lustful glint in his eye because eating you out made him painfully hard.

When it comes to receiving, Mydei tries to be careful. He knows he’s big so he’s not expecting you to deepthroat him or anything (though it would drive him wild if you managed to) and does his best to hold still while you take him in your mouth. He’s more vocal when you suck him off, letting out low moans that gradually grow louder the closer you bring him to orgasm. When he gets closer to his peak, he starts to shallowly thrust into your mouth but tries to be careful to not thrust too deep and accidentally hurt you.

He tends to keep a hand on your head while you go down on him. Not pushing or pulling but just resting it there. If your hair is long enough, he’ll gather it up into a ponytail to keep it out of your face so it wouldn’t get in your way.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Mydei’s pace can vary from fast to slow depending on what you’re both in the mood for, but he consistently goes deep. If you’re in the mood for something passionate and carnal, Mydei’s happy to let loose and take you fast and rough until you’re crying out in pleasure and your eyes are rolling back while raking your nails down his shoulders. If you want something less rough but still passionate, he can go slow and deep and gradually build up to a more moderate pace. The latter is usually his go-to pace though he tends to quicken his thrusts when he’s near orgasm.

Though slow and sensual is not his typical style, when you evoke soft and warm feelings in Mydei’s chest (usually by saying you love him or being the one to make love to him) he gentles his approach. It’s not quite sensual, but it is loving coming from him. His sharp thrusts slow down to languid roll of his hips and he gives you more kisses and gentler nips.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He doesn’t mind quickies and sometimes resorts to them when you’re both pent up and need to destress but don’t have the time to take things slow. During quickies, Mydei’s pace is fast but not rough since the aim is to get both of you to climax quickly and then go about your day. They’re regular but not frequent, probably once a week or so.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

It will take some coaxing on your part, but Mydei can be convinced to experiment with new things if the idea intrigues him or it makes you happy. However, if it’s anything from the No section then he will stubbornly shut down the suggestion. You also can’t suddenly spring something hardcore on him like BDSM. Mydei needs to be eased into new things. You can start out with something like a session experimenting with restraints, and another time playing around with blindfolds or toys, etc… Otherwise, he may experiment with a few things himself like sex positions and restraining you with his hands.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

This man has stamina for days. He’ll outlast you any day of the week, it’s not even a competition. Mydei’s endurance comes not only from his physical fitness, but also from how used to pain and suffering he is. His immortal body allows him to easily ignore signs of fatigue or discomfort and push him past his limits. That said, his body does have a limit to how many times he can cum, so he can last up until he shoots blanks. It’s unlikely you will ever get to that point with him, though.

In general, Mydei prefers going for 2-3 rounds so you’re both left thoroughly satisfied, but if you ever want to go for more then he’ll indulge you.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

While Mydei isn’t against sex toys, he’s not eager to use them. He strongly believes that direct physical touch feels better than some cold plastic or silicone toy. He’d much rather please you directly with his body, be it his hands, mouth, or penis because it’s more gratifying to watch you react to his touch than to some tool. Mydei prefers you to please him using your hands or mouth, as well. You could try the sex toys on him, but he will quickly lose interest and toss them away in favor of feeling your skin against his.

Mydei is okay with you using toys on yourself when he’s not available to satisfy your needs, but if he is, he will be hurt if you don’t come to him and satisfy yourself with a toy instead. It will make him think you don’t find him satisfactory in bed.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Mydei is a straightforward person, so playing unfair is not his style. At most he can let fly a teasing comment about how badly you want him but otherwise he doesn’t tease or edge you. He doesn’t have the patience for it because seeing you get worked up riles him up too and makes him want nothing else except to sink into your cunt.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

The prince is good at keeping his voice down. He usually lets out grunts and groans while making love to you, and an occasional low moan if you do something that makes him feel good. Mydei would much rather hear your moans over his own because they let him know he’s making you feel good which is an ego boost for him. If you try to stifle your sounds, Mydei tells you to let your voice out so he can hear how good he’s making you feel and does his best to get you to moan louder, provided you’re somewhere private.

He's also a huge sucker for hearing you moan his name or begging him. It drives him wild and makes him want to give you even more pleasure.

Mydei indulges in a bit of dirty talk. It’s not derogatory but rather praising, saying things like “Look at how soaked your panties are. You must be so desperate to feel my dick inside you.” or “You’re so wet and tight, your pussy feels so good around me.”

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Mydei can get competitive in the bedroom. Once he grows familiar with sex and what you like, he challenges himself to get you to climax more times compared to previous sessions. If you came twice last time, he’ll set a goal to make you orgasm three or more times the next session.

If you’re the type to challenge him in the bedroom, Mydei will play along. You want to bet you’ll make him cum first? Sure, why not test it out in the 69 position so he can eat you out while you suck him off and see who will make the other finish first?

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

(A reminder than girth is circumference and not diameter)

Length is 15 cm (5.9 inches) and girth is 11 cm (4.3 inches). Has a few veins on the underside and a dark red tip.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Mydei has a healthy sexual appetite and craves sex about 3-5 times a week. If you sex drive is higher than his then he could go more often.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Mydeimos doesn’t fall asleep quickly afterwards unless he’s pushed himself past his limit (but that’s extremely rare). You’re usually the one to fall asleep first since intercourse with him leaves you weak and tired, so Mydei spends that free time making sure you’re properly tucked in and comfortable. He scoops your limp form into his arms in a protective embrace and tucks your head under his chin, holding you close while you succumb to sleep.

During nighttime, Mydei’s thoughts are usually occupied by his duties or his past, but the relaxation that comes after sex helps to push those troublesome thoughts aside and allows him fall asleep easier than usual. It also takes him a bit of time to get used to sleeping beside you, but he finds it nice to share a bed with someone he loves and hold them in his arms. He likes mornings in which he wakes up to see your naked sleeping figure beside him. Your hair is mussed and there are marks from his teeth on your skin, but god does the sight of you under the soft rays of Okhema’s sun warm his scarred heart.

[rollingeevee]

You mentioned that a darling has little chance of escaping, but little does not exactly imply none at all.

If so, in what scenario does a darling have any, even a little bit chance of escaping a Beast? If there is truly none, is there possibly a way to at least gain some sort of control or set proper boundaries?

The only chance of escape isn’t even really… escape. As stated previously, the bond forced by a claiming bite from a Beast will always incapacitate a darling when they’re trying to run and always guide the Beast to their darling. No matter where they are, how far or how long they have run, the Beast will know where they are, and could retrieve them at any moment they desired. Shadow Milk especially loves to play around with this. He’s a trickster who loves to play games and fuck with the minds and perceptions of others. Perhaps you find a new attempt to escape, and you take it. You run and run as far and fast as you can, and while the bite stings, it’s bearable. Perhaps you flee to another continent. You reunite with your family. You settle back into your normal life. And as time passes, the bite’s pain dulls and dulls until it’s not there anymore. It seemed the effects wore off. You’re free! You’ve done it!

What you don’t know is that it was all orchestrated by Shadow Milk Cookie. He purposely created an opening for you to escape and dulled the effects of the bite as you ran. He knows exactly where you are, and he’s been watching you… Luring you into a false sense of security, allowing you to rebuild your confidence, to get a taste of the freedom you’d lost! All so he can enjoy the expression of despair on your face to the fullest when he rips it all away from you. Oh, you thought you’d actually gotten away? That he would never find you? Tsk tsk tsk… Oh, you silly silly itty bitty mousey dear~ He just wanted to permanently break your spirit and make you realize that you’re his, now and forever~

I went off on a tangent there- other than that, the only other means would be… by the Beast letting you go. If, for some reason or another, they no longer wish for you to be their darling, they’ll remove their bite and, in a rare show of mercy, let you go. Don’t count on this ever happening though. You’re more likely to be rescued by a Witch than you are to be set free. While Beasts are capable of being impulsive, they take claiming a darling with their bite rather seriously. A cookie has to catch their attention and then keep it for a decent amount of time before they even consider biting. Throughout this time, they observe. They test. They challenge. Are you truly deserving of their bite? Because oh yes, they view it as a privilege to be bit by them. It’s only after their interest has been solidified and then begins to spiral into obsession that they feel the desire and the need to claim through a bite. Given all that, to say the likelihood of them letting a darling go once they’ve claimed them is nonexistent is a bit of an understatement-

——

For the second part of your question, setting boundaries is a challenge and requires patience. Really, the only way to gain some semblance of control and be able to set boundaries is to return affection to the Beast and build a mutual bond. When a darling is unwilling, rebellious, and the only thing tying them to their Beast is the bite, the bond can be viewed more as parasitic in a way, and primarily exists out of obsession. Not only that, but the more you fight, the more power and control a Beast is likely to exert over you. If you begin to return affection, either through stockholm syndrome and as a means to survive or out of genuine love, a Beast will slowly become more willing to be cooperative, just as their darling is. When this stage is reached, boundaries can begin to be set. However, it’s less of you putting your foot down and more negotiating with your Beast to be allowed a lil more breathing room.

[austinsten]

I do not think that would be your fate.

What I always wanted for you was to be the fearless and bold like we both know you are. You are very strong and brave. Thats who you are and you shouldn't be afraid to show it. You shouldnt take anymore shit and you shouldnt give yourself to anyone that doesnt love you like you deserve. Even if you have to do it to me. In fact you especially have to do it with me. shut me out, threaten me, hate me. Fine, so be it. As long as you're standing up for yourself when you're right and taking accountability when you're wrong. If I can't have you at least maybe i can help you and someday you can find a guy who will treat you how I always should have and actually be ready to keep him. Is that weird? Idk you're the girl I've always loved so much I just want you to be happy. I feel like you never believed i loved you or thought you were the most beautiful woman id ever seen. You should be with someone who makes you believe those things. I know you also carry the same sadness and unbearable anxiety from childhood trauma. I know i broke your trust When I yelled. I pushed you away when you couldnt talk to me. That is my own trauma and was never your fault. Its still no excuse and I can't save face. i should have learned your love language a lot sooner. I know you just wanted to be held and kissed like there was only us. I lost myself feeling so alone and just CRAZY because I wanted you to fight for us with me, I wanted to hear every thought and desire you hadn't shared so BAD i just wanted to reach you and help you. I just wanted to do it for real without playing any games, without manipulation. It was so hard to find a middle ground between being loving and being firm to not feel walked on. I laughed when you were mad because it was the only time I saw you truly express yourself and i just loved you so much I couldn't contain it. It made me so happy just to hear what was on your mind. I never asked you how your day was enough, i never kissed you like i should have. It was never just about sex for me, i was nuts about you from the start. i was truly your love fool for so, so long. But i also knew you kept secrets between us and i pushed you way too hard about it, i understand there was overlap. Its hard to settle on a feeling about it because you also would not have put yourself in that situation again, much less so many times after, if you weren't seeking attention and you did actually regret it. I know you were broken and in the dark. But I've also accepted if I'd shown you the love you deserved you may never have sought it elsewhere. If things were good between us youd have never been with them. If we could just stop being so stubborn and be vulnerable enough to actually speak what were so afraid to. Its just sucks! Its so painful when we didnt even do this to each other were just fucked up from our childhood and cant stop hurting each other! Even knowing that. Sigh, i never wanted to make you feel small or unheard i was just so afraid to lose you! I never hated you I was just heartbroken. I wanted to stay forever, but we couldn't talk to each other. I just wanted the truth not more manipulation. I wanted to hear i was your love and the only man you wanted. Sigh. I never wanted to silence you or talk over you. Quite the opposite. I loved you in ways you may never understand and it's my own fault.

- What do you fear, my lady? - A cage. To stay behind bars until use and old age accept them and all chance of valor has gone beyond recall or desire. The Lord of the Rings: Two Towers (2002)

[bithcisweartogod]

it’s not that cheng xiaoshi doesn’t trust lu guang. he does, probably more than anyone. him and qiao ling are the closest people he has. hell, he willingly trusts lu guang with his life on a daily, blindly allowing the guy to lead him in every dive, never once doubting that with lu guang in charge everything will be fine. 

yet sometimes he can’t help but wish he would tell him more. not that cheng xiaoshi feels like he’s hiding something. he just wants to know more about lu guang. cheng xiaoshi himself has never been a particularly secretive person. he likes to share bits and pieces of himself with others, but only those that hover on the surface, not allowing too deep of a look into his mind. sure, he also doesn’t tell people everything. why would he? but lu guang barely shares anything at all.

those little crumbles of him that cheng xiaoshi managed to gather over the years either came as a result of pure observation or accidents. sometimes, if cheng xiaoshi asked, lu guang would tell him about the books he reads, or show him movies he likes, share songs he listens to. but that’s about it. cheng xiaoshi’s grateful for what he can get, but is it so wrong to want to know more about your partner? 

and yeah, maybe lu guang’s lack of desire to share stuff about himself comes from the fact that cheng xiaoshi can and will tease him about it but come on. that’s what friends are for! something, he has to share something! like, childhood memories, for instance. it doesn’t even have to be something deep or anything, cheng xiaoshi doesn’t expect lu guang to get into the heavy stuff like he’s in a therapy session. something light and funny though, maybe a little silly, that should be fine, right? everyone has these kind of stories! yet whenever cheng xiaoshi and qiao ling dive into this topic lu guang just observes them quietly, all small smiles and stifled laughter. 

qiao ling brought an old photo album one day. she found it during a major cleaning up session at her parents’ house. despite being her family’s photo album, it had lots of pictures of cheng xiaoshi, so she knew she had to bring it to the photo studio.

and there they were, the three of them seated on the sofa, looking through the photos. the pictures were really wholesome. little qiao ling holding little cheng xiaoshi’s hand at an amusement park, both of them smiling widely. she cooed at the image, and then, in the same sweet voice as before, she said: “remember how you threw up after that one ride that we told you not to take?”, leaving cheng xiaoshi frozen and lu guang laughing up his sleeve.

so that’s how it went. whenever cheng xiaoshi appeared in a photo qiao ling would add some details about its backstory, making embarrassing ones even more so. like, here’s a picture of cheng xiaoshi with mustache drawn on his face in black marker. he’s showing off, posing like a character from a movie.

“a few seconds after that he showed us the marker he draw those with and mom told him it’s permanent” qiao ling deadpans.

“and i took it very well” boasts cheng xiaoshi, crossing his arms over his chest.

“you cried like a baby” 

“did not” 

“i think you did”, intervenes lu guang, who had already turned the page, discovering a follow-up photo, that, although smudgy, showed a wailing cheng xiaoshi. so no, he did not, in fact, take it well. cheng xiaoshi’s ears turned red.

“you took a picture? i was standing there crying and you just took a picture?” he exclaims.

“sorry, sorry” says qiao ling, laughing. “it was too funny”.

cheng xiaoshi, of course, saw that as a challenge. he flipped through the pages of the photo album and then stopped, smiling in that manner of his that meant he’s up to no good. 

“look who we have here” he said melodically.

qiao ling scoffed. 

“it can’t be that bad, let me see— oh god”.

the picture showed little qiao ling, up close, definitely an attempt of hers to take a selfie on her parents’ camera. but the angle wasn’t the worst part. the makeup. what was going on. bright splotches of blue eyeshadow covered her eyes, her eyebrows looked like she got inspired by cheng xiaoshi’s mustache and drew them with a sharpie, her lips were over-lined with pink lipstick, and, as a cherry on top, glitter. it was everywhere. but little qiao ling seemed proud of herself, while the current one looked like she was holding back tears. she’ll definitely ask who and why decided that it would be a good idea to put this picture in the album when she comes home. 

meanwhile, cheng xiaoshi was laughing uncontrollably, less from looking at the photo and more from seeing qiao ling’s reaction. lu guang was covering his mouth, trying to hide a smile. 

“don’t worry, qiao ling-jie, your skills definitely improved” he tried to placate her. 

“i sure hope they did!” screamed distressed qiao ling, looking as flabbergasted as she was before.

she turned the page to try and change the subject. suddenly, a blurred something caught cheng xiaoshi’s attention. 

“what’s that?” he asked, pointing at the photo. 

and now it was qiao ling’s turn to laugh. 

“idiot, that’s your butt!” 

cheng xiaoshi looked at her, bewildered, then back at the photo and then the recognition finally sank in. 

“what the hell is it doing in your family’s photo album?” he tried to snatch the album away but qiao ling grabbed it first, quickly passing it to lu guang. with the way his palm covered his mouth it was hard to tell whether he’s laughing or genuinely concerned. 

“why— who even decided to develop it?” cheng xiaoshi looked over lu guang’s shoulder, not trying to hide the photo anymore now that he’s already seen it. instead, he buried his face into the fabric of lu guang’s shirt, mortified. 

“actually, you did” answers qiao ling, smiling from ear to ear. 

“what?!” 

“yeah! you were the one who brought it to us! you thought that the scar you got was super cool, so you decided to take a picture of it, and then asked aunt shao to develop it. and she did”. 

memories were coming back to cheng xiaoshi, the way his mom laughed and immediately agreed to his request. she sure had an interesting sense of humor. he looked at the photo again, more intently this time. 

“but you gotta admit…it does look cool. like a lightning…”

“wanna put it in a frame?” lu guang suggested, earning a loud snicker from qiao ling and a death glare from cheng xiaoshi.

they bickered over the photos, competing in who can make the other more embarrassed, but despite all the noise they made over this album, it felt good to revisit those memories. to look back on their past and laugh. to share it with lu guang. 

later that day, when cheng xiaoshi and lu guang were already in their beds, slowly dozing off, cheng xiaoshi decided to ask something. 

“lu guang? you asleep?” 

after a short period of time a muffled answer comes out 

“no”

a beat. cheng xiaoshi hesitates. 

“it’s just…you never showed us any pictures from when you were a kid. or any pictures of your parents” or any pictures at all. for some reason he felt unsure. like he’s stepping into a territory not yet open for him. “i wouldn’t be too surprised to find out you were born an adult” a quiet laugh. an attempt to lighten up the atmosphere. 

“i can just see you saying ‘thank you for carrying me all those nine months, mother’ and bowing to the doctors” he blabbers, trying to continue the joke, which earns a low stifled laugh from lu guang. 

“you’re ridiculous” he says, and cheng xiaoshi can hear him smiling. warmth spreads in his chest. after remaining silent for some time, lu guang speaks again.

“it’s nothing special, really. my parents just never liked to take photos. i don’t have anything to show, that’s it” 

it made cheng xiaoshi sad, the fact that he’d never get to see lu guang little. was his hair always white? was his attitude always so quiet and stoic? did he ever do any of the embarrassing things he and qiao ling were up to when they were kids? 

“you’re disappointed?” lu guang asks suddenly. damn, he’s uncannily good at reading his mind.

“don’t be silly” comes out cheng xiaoshi’s immediate response. then, turning to the side, he ads, “i have you here now. that’s all that matters”.

and that’s true. whatever past lu guang had, whatever things he’s purposefully hiding away from him…he’s here, with cheng xiaoshi. and, as lu guang himself said, he’s not going anywhere.

next day qiao ling comes into the photo studio again. in her hands there’s…a book? she places it on the counter, smiling happily. a book turns out to be a photo album. a brand new one, all pages empty, waiting to be filled. 

“it just hit me suddenly, after i left yesterday. it’s so stupid. we don’t have a photo album of our own! at the photo studio! absurd”.

and just like that, they started piling up a history of their own, capturing time in the pages of the album. a picture of lu guang on the sofa, fallen asleep in the middle of reading a book. sunlight dances on his skin. he scrunches his nose in his sleep. a picture of qiao ling pulling cheng xiaoshi into a hug. he tries to look annoyed but his smile betrays him. cheng xiaoshi with a braid. it looks a little messed up since his hair’s not long enough, but pretty nonetheless. lu guang patting a stray cat near the photo studio. qiao ling and xu shanshan hitting cheng xiaoshi with pillows. qiao ling smiling brightly as cheng xiaoshi scrubs the floor behind her. he lost a bet and was supposed to clean up for a month. lu guang eventually agreed to help him (he always does) and ended up taking the majority of cheng xiaoshi’s cleaning duties upon himself. lu guang with a pissed off expression, huge coffee spot on his shirt. he accidentally spilled it and cheng xiaoshi had to capture the moment as evidence that lu guang does in fact fuck up sometimes. lu guang smiling. lu guang posing with an awkward peace sign. lots of lu guang, actually. because cheng xiaoshi, unlike lu guang’s parents, likes taking photos. especially photos of lu guang. 

it’s not that cheng xiaoshi doesn’t trust lu guang. he does, probably more than anyone. so he knows that lu guang would tell him more when he’s ready. there’s no rush. he likes it even more like that - getting to know him, gradually, bit by bit. 

[marlowetudor]

The Maze & the Minotaur

Male Minotaur x female reader

Spice Level:🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️- Picante

Word Count: 1740

“This is what you signed up for,” you reminded yourself as you darted around another corner. The travel brochure had promised an “authentic Greek myth experience” when you booked the day trip to see the newly discovered labyrinth beneath the palace at Knossos. Your friends had begged off, claiming the “high adventure package,” which boasted a run through the maze while chased by an actual, live minotaur, was a bit too adventurous for them.

At first, the idea was thrilling. Ever since you'd read the myth of Theseus and the Minotaur in grade school, you’d been fascinated with the idea of being chased by one. Even after meeting the minotaur chasing you, a tall, handsome male named Andreas with soft, wet brown eyes, a warm smile, and acres of well-defined muscles, you were still excited for the chase. He chuckled when he told you that a surprisingly high number of human women opted for the high adventure package.

But, with your heart pounding louder in your ears than your feet on the stone floor of the maze, you were starting to think your friends may have been right. Every so often, a roar would come floating over the maze's walls, sending you into a fresh sprint. You knew one loose stone, one wrong turn, one pause in the wrong spot could mean being caught. And then, if he caught you, well, anything could happen.

It happened before you realized it. You had been running full bore down a straight-away that ended in a T-junction. You hadn’t realized how much speed you’d built up until you went around the corner and couldn’t slow down enough to make the turn safely. You slammed into the rock wall of the maze, bruising your shoulder and forearm hard enough to make you stop running. In the second it took for you to cradle your arm to your side, big arms closed around your torso from behind and lifted you off your feet. A rough palm closed over your mouth, cutting off the scream just as it was bubbling up from your throat.

“Gotcha!” came the deep, breathless voice at your ear. “You gave me quite the chase, sweet girl,” he murmured. You could feel the heat of his breath, cooling the sweat on your neck and brow.

“Damn,” you muttered. “I thought I was going to make it.” You wriggled in his arms, making him laugh.

“You almost did,” he said, tightening his grip. “But I think you deserve a consolation prize for that run.”  He set you down on your feet and spun you around to face him. “Would you like that, sweet girl?” You fought hard to keep your face neutral, even as the low embers of desire burning in your core since the start of your run leaped up to spread a delicious heat through you.

“What’s the prize?” you asked, looking him up and down. His long tongue ran out to lick his lips as he mimicked your lingering gaze.

“I think you know,” His eyes lingered on the valley between your breasts that led down into your sports bra. “Girls like you don’t sign up to be chased by a minotaur for our sparkling conversation,” he said.  

As if he needed help proving his point, his arms wrapped around you again, hoisting you off your feet. Your legs wrapped easily around his trim waist to settle your hips against his. “Besides,” he grunted, one large hand cupped your ass, supporting you, while the other slid up your ribs, roughly grabbing your breast. “I could smell how wet you were from almost ten meters away.”  It made you shift your hips, pressing your sex against him. There was no sense in hiding any longer. He could feel the squirming movements of your hips, seeking the length of his cock stiffening through the thin fabric of your running shorts. He ground up against you, making you whimper with need.

He kissed and licked along your neck until he reached your ear. “You want this cock, sweet girl?” he asked. “You want me to give you your prize?” You nodded, practically writhing against him.

“Say it,” he hissed against your ear. “Tell me how much you want it.” His big hand wrapped around your hips, pushing your wet cunt against his cock through the thin fabric that separated you.

“Please,” you moaned, barely above a whisper. He slid one hand down to explore the damp gusset between your thighs. His thick fingers prodded up and down along the seam of your pussy through the fabric.

“Louder, sweet girl. I want to hear you beg for what you want,” he groaned. You held on tightly to his neck with one arm while you pushed the fingers of your other hand into the curls at the nape of his neck. You kissed eagerly along his long jaw to his mouth, his tongue meeting and twining with yours.

“Please,” you whined between kisses. “Please fuck me.”

He chuckled, tasting your mouth with his tongue. He dug his thick fingers into the fabric of your shorts, pressing hard on your throbbing clit before releasing his hold. You slithered down his body with a frustrated whine as he guided you to your knees with gentle pressure.

“First, you’re going to taste my cock,” he said. His hand undid the clasp holding his loincloth up and let it flutter to the floor. Though the light in the maze was dim, you could still clearly see the girthy length of his erection as it bounced free. Without having to be told, you nuzzled against the base of it, licking over his heavy balls as you made your way up toward the tip. Taking all of him in your mouth was out of the question. He was too thick. Too long. But you could certainly squeeze and lick and suck as much as you could manage. You could run your tongue along his weeping slit, lapping up the sticky beads of precum. You loved hearing him groan, feeling his fingers wrap around your ponytail to guide your head where he wanted it as you tried to fit him into your mouth.

He pulled your head back, pulling your mouth off the head of his cock with a lewd pop. In seconds, he pushed you down onto your back, yanking your sports bra over your head, nearly tearing your shorts as he ripped them down off your hips. His long, thick finger ran between the sopping wet lips of your cunt to gather some of your slick and rub it over your clit. Your hips bucked upward, following his hand as he teased you open for him.

“I think you’re ready for my cock, sweet little human,” he said, pulling you up into his lap. You could only nod as you looped your arms around his neck again. He guided your shaky legs around his hips with one hand while he dragged the thick head of his cock over your sensitive little bud. You thrust against him, trying to coax him to your entrance.

The stretch of him as his cock pushed into you was incredible. You’d heard people talk about being split in half but had never really appreciated what it meant. He tried to hold you up, to let you sink slowly down onto him and adjust to his girth, but the feeling of him filling you was too much to resist. You pushed down with a guttural moan until he was fully rooted deep within you.  

He let you rest for a few moments, holding you still with both hands on your hips. You felt so satisfyingly full that you could hardly feel yourself twitching and clenching around him, but he definitely could, if his breathy little moans were any indication. Slowly, he lifted you up by your hips, savoring the desperate moan you made before he let gravity drag you back down. He tilted you back as you rode him to watch himself disappear into your tight folds, to watch the outline of his glans push against your abdomen each time he reached the end of your channel.

The rough pounding almost overwhelmed the tightening sensation that built in your gut with each velvet drag of him over every tender spot within you. But soon enough, as both of your moans grew louder, as he worked your body up and down on his long shaft, it became impossible to ignore the feeling of getting closer to the precipice. He must have been close, too. He roared again, pulling you down hard and bucking up into you at the same time. Your hand scrabbled across his taught, straining stomach, looking for any kind of purchase to hold onto as you tumbled over the edge into orgasm with him. His hands caught and cradled you, rocking with you as your clenching pussy milked load after heavy load from his cock.

At last, your tired muscles couldn’t hold you upright any longer, and he chuffed out a soft laugh as he bundled you down against his chest. “I take it back,” he muttered as he nuzzled against your sweaty brow. “I think you won, after all, sweet girl.”

You giggled, gently twisting your fingers in the longer fur that ran down between his clavicles like a downy cravat. “I think we both won,” you teased.

After a few moments, he helped you stand and handed you a towel, cleverly concealed within his discarded loincloth. “I’m not really supposed to do this,” he said, suddenly shy as he looked away to give you some privacy while you cleaned up. “I’m not supposed to do any of what we just did. A lot of the guys do, but...” He trailed off, shaking his large head.

“No, I would think railing the clients is probably frowned upon. Great customer service, though. Five stars,” you said, laughing with him as the two of you made your way toward the maze exit.

“Nooo,” he said, still chuckling. “Definitely not supposed to do that.” He ran one of his big hands through the curls that spilled down between his horns, over his brow. “I’m not supposed to do this either, but, uh,” he continued. If he hadn’t just screwed you within an inch of your life, you’d have sworn he was nervous.  “I’d like to see you again. Can I get your number?”

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

Thanks for reading! Let me know in the comments if you like longer fics like this, or if you prefer shorter ones!

[blacknedsoul-blog]

Social climbers and the relationship with power: Ada's tragedy

You buddies don't dimension how much I raised my eyebrows when I saw this scene:

Ada climbing on top of a deer (a very typical symbolic representation of noble masculinity) who is trying to fiercely shake her off while she desperately clings to him with all her might...

And is THAT what makes her have a flashback of her relationship with Tamerline? Buddy, I'm putting on a hat to take it off.

Anyway, this means I have enough material to talk about Ada.

Social climbers and power

Ada is, apparently, a social climber: she longs for a social space to which she feels she is entitled, but to which she considers herself not to belong. This is something that can give us clues about her socio-economic situation in life: social climbers are extremely common in spaces such as, for example, the child of a first generation of professionals or of parents who have been able to provide better economic passages despite not belonging to social elites.

So, one thing to be clear about the way Ada relates to people in general is through this lens: the way she tries to move up socially (i.e. to power) is through her relationships with people, if she is close to a person who has power or belongs to an elite, then she is accessing these spaces. If that person does not have it, then she uses the relationship to reassert the position she wants to have.

Ada's personal tragedy is that this way of relating to the world puts her in an extremely vulnerable position with respect to her interpersonal relationships because, if they were not asymmetrical from the beginning, she makes them asymmetrical. It's as true that Ada gets into complicated relationships willingly as it is that she is a victim of people like Tamerlane. You know, the same logic of tragedies.

So let me do a little review of all the relationships Ada has had in the comic, how they go and what is the pattern they follow.

The triad of discord

There are three things that all of Ada's relationships have in common (except one, but we'll get to that): 1) She seeks to get some sort of validation from the other person. 2) She tends to push the person's boundaries, even if they were explicitly stated. 3) Even if the person has some degree of affection or sympathy for her, Ada will never be her priority over other things. Be these things other people, personal desires, etc, etc.

So let's review this a bit.

Let's start with the bastard of Thomas Tamerline. If anything their interaction during chapter 110 makes clear to us is that the guy is quite explicit with the fact that this relationship is purely sex for him (and he possibly enjoys the degree of control he exerts over her), Ada repeatedly tries to get some validation or affection from him and the guy barely complies with the bare minimum.

That he ends up murdering her indicates that, regardless of motive, he sees her as an inconvenience to his personal desires that must be gotten out of the way and, as the icing on the cake, puts the responsibility on her.

Now on to Prospero. His resemblance to Thomas is obvious enough to understand why Ada would be attracted to him and constantly seeks to touch him or be near him, no matter how much Prospero tells her that he is not interested in her. This is an attitude she has even before Annabel encourages her by saying that “Prospero is just being shy”.

Eventually it happens what it does: Prospero is fed up with her and doesn't hesitate to tell her so to her face. We can argue whether or not he's justified in being this cruel, but by the standards of this argument that's irrelevant: the important thing here is that Prospero doesn't care about Ada's feelings enough to be nicer.

Let's go now to Lenore. Ada is extremely mean to her until Lenore demonstrates that she was able to pass the maze test on her own. This is, in Ada's eyes, a demonstration of power and she, as she is wont to do, will not pass up the opportunity to get on the good side of a person who could be a potential rising star.

This is cut short by her same group, but they reconnect at the mansion trial. Since Lenore is not interested in relating on power terms (for better and for worse), here they have the opportunity to share on more equal terms on both their parts. Yes, Lenore is also doing this for personal reasons, but it doesn't take away from the merit.

Ada ends up overstepping boundaries and betraying Lenore at the end of the trial. And after she learns of her Ada's involvement in Duke's kidnapping, well, all she has to say when Pluto fills her in is says that shitty relationship is strangely appropriate.

Yes, Lenore may have come to have some degree of affection for her, but Ada is no more important than her friends and after getting into something like that, to hell with her.

With Annabel things start to get more interesting. These two have a cocktail of projection and resentment between them: Annabel is all Ada wants, so she treats her like a pretty accessory that gives her status (something that definitely oversteps Annabel's boundaries, even if she hasn't expressed them because it doesn't suit her) and, to Annabel, Ada is little more than an important piece she can take advantage of.

This take it with a grain of salt because there are some “buts.”

On Ada's side, that she seeks help from Annabel when Montresor is being a fucking psycho is an indicator that she felt, at least, protected by Annabel. But as is often the case with her, the plan Annabel is carrying out is no more important than Ada, she just lets it happen.

Twice. Under the circumstances, Annabel chooses to help Prospero over Ada.

However, Ada is not indifferent to Annabel: she is definitely furious with Montresor after what he did (In fact, this is the only scene so far where we have seen Annabel exercising any form of physical aggression)., she is uncomfortable when Prospero is mean to Ada, and there are a few small frames where she looks at her with sincere pity.

But again, that won't make Annabel prioritize her over her own plans.

Finally, we come to the most interesting relationship here.

Ada definitely cares about Morella, but that won't make constantly denigrating her a reaffirmation of the position she believes (or wants) to have: making comments like Morella's food “is poor.” Ada pecks at the boundaries with a stick, yet these things -for some reason- don't seem to bother Morella, who is able to see the good in her despite her bad attitudes. Until she stops doing it because not only participating in Duke's kidnapping, but also trying to play cool by making excuses is out of bounds even for Morella.

But an interesting thing happens here too, remember how Ada is never a priority for anyone? Well, for a moment in her relationship with Morella it looks like this is going to be different. Morella makes a feeble attempt to defend her when Montresor makes her bark and puts a shield in her face when Prospero attacks her in the mansion trial.

Unfortunately for Ada, Morella is someone too lacking in backbone and too concerned with following the rules to stand up for her when it really counts.

After Ada manifests and bursts into tears, she pushes Morella away from her with a shove.

Morella says she wants to help, but all it takes is for Poppet to remind her that she needs to get back the Merits she lost for Morella to finally give in.

The two people Ada considered her friends have left her: Annabel has chosen to help Prospero and Morella has left.

That's when Montresor enters.

And here begins the first break in Ada's toxic pattern of relationships...but not for the better.

Ada and Montresor

Oddly enough, these two are a good match...for horrible reasons. Montresor, like Ada, is a social climber who uses interpersonal relationships to get closer to power, only in a different way: where Ada sticks it to people who hold power, Montresor uses others to reassert himself in a position of power. So, Ada feeds Montresor's ego, while he can pretend to like her enough to keep Ada happy.

Because yes, Ada and Montresor's relationship fulfills most of the bad patterns in relationships that Ada usually has: she seeks validation in this relationship and Montresor definitely doesn't prioritize her (she constantly has to compete with Will for Montresor's attention, for example). But the important thing here is that, for once, Ada isn't the one constantly pecking at the other person's boundaries: it's Montresor who does it.

He pushes her around, teases her, calls her by other women's names, and it's probably only a matter of time before this starts to get worse. What's interesting is that Ada is able to get upset when this happens, unlike what we see in the flashback to her relationship with Thomas.

So there is something changing here.

Conclusion

I'm not sure where this is going to lead, but one thing is for sure: Montresor is a reflection of a toxic pattern of behavior that Ada has in her relationships and if she's starting to get uncomfortable with it, it's not just because the abyss is staring back at her, but because she's getting herself into a situation too similar to her relationship with Thomas to not know how it might end.

Add to that this:

This is the first time in the comic that Ada has had such a selfless gesture for another person. And that selfless gesture is something as big as putting herself in danger to save someone. As if all this wasn't enough, it's been to save Annabel: one of the two friends who turned their backs on her when she needed them.

I don't know if this will be the start of her character development or we should interpret it as deathflags placed over her head, but one thing is for sure: whatever is going to come out of here has quite a bit of potential.

[thingsanthoughts-on-lifeanfandom]

I disagree that all stories with Martian Manhunter can be done with Superman. While there are a lot of parallels, there is one big distinction between them.

Let's take the metaphor of immigration. Superman is a second generation or even adopted immigrant who was raised his entire life on earth/in the US. Not only does he look like a human, he also understands and behaves like a human / American. He understands the unspoken rules and conventions, he gets the implications and undertones when speaking and he doesn't need to adjust to a new culture because earth is part of his culture and his home.

Meanwhile Martian Manhunter is a first generation immigrant who came to earth as an adult with preestablished knowledge, concepts and cultural background from his previous home. He doesn't know the language, doesn't understand the culture or behaviours, doesn't have a community or anyone to relate to and has completely no reference for what is normal and not normal on earth and specifically in US. There are so many stories that can come from that aspect alone, but they always get glossed over with a minor episode when Martian Manhunter is introduced and then he miraculously is well adjusted to life on earth.

Some topics that could be explored:

Martian Manhunter not understanding human culture. Something we do that is seen as polite is a mortal offence on Mars

Not understanding language, implications or maybe even humans think differently, a scenario when even telepathy is rendered useless or at least complicated

On the note of telepathy, humans having unrestrained thoughts and feelings that they broadcast to telepaths, something that would be unthinkable on mars. Martian Manhunter being influenced by the thoughts, urges and desires and changing in accordance to what he hears.

Martian Manhunter being ostracised or ostracising himself from humans because of these differences, show what it's actually like to live without a community to support you

Loneliness - it's something that is explored, but not nearly enough with the potential that is there

Martian Manhunter missing mars, longing for it and wishing he could go back while knowing he can't

Him actually going back because earth is being terrible to him (the angst!) and trying to build a life alone in the ruins of his favourite place in the universe

Him having a falling out with superman because of the differences in understanding the experience of being an alien. Martian accusing superman for being too human.

Martian Manhunter teaching others about his culture! Flash out the Martian culture and traditions and have humans and other heroes participate in it and see what happens

There are just a few stories that I would love to see, but there are so many stories that could be told that are unique to Martian Manhunter and it's a shame he is not explored more in comics

Superhero deconstructions for the Justice Leaguers who've managed to weasel out of it so far:

Wonder Woman: What's that? You're from a matriarchal, monarchal enclave of immortal, bronze-age warriors who worship the actual Greek gods? Who are real? And you came out the other side of that with values completely compatible with 21st-century progressive mores surrounding individualism, secularism, gender identity and governance? And you're completely accepting of trans people? That is so cool and marketable The Flash: A white midwestern cop has developed omnipresence. This is probably fine Green Lantern: Is the objectively-quantifiable and measurable quality of "Willpower" in the room with us right now. Also. who exactly signed off on this extraterrestrial paramilitary. Is this a cult Aquaman: A hereditary monarchy exerts military control over 70 percent of the world's surface. This is also probably fine

Martian Manhunter: God I wish Martian Manhunter had enough of a presence in the popular consciousness for there to be an intuitive attack surface

[mingi-s-dimples]

Blood Oath - Seonghwa

"you taste... you taste like sin."

pairing: vampire seonghwa x divine entity fem!reader

genre: 18+, vampire au, filth

summary: After centuries of pursuit, you finally surrender to the Lord himself. In the dark of his embrace, he swears an oath—eternal love, eternal possession.

wc: 5.7k

warnings: vampire lord!seonghwa, divine entity!reader, power play, possessiveness, light obsession (he wants the reader forever and has been persistent with winning her over), heavy making out, neck kissing, neck biting, choking, vampire fangs (idk if it can be a warning but), vampire bites, blood sucking, looots of marking, praising & body worshipping, oral sex (both f and m), he ests her out, dacryphilia, biting, size kink, huge dick!seonghwa (he was a vampire after all), overstimulation, missionary, bending over, hiar pulling, deep throating, bloodplay (he fucks her while drinking her blood), manhandling, some aftercare, no hongjoong was not peeking he came in the room after quite some time, completely consensual, for sure forgot something, unprotected (boo use protection irl!!!), might edit later.

Author's Note: I ain't even going to hide it anymore. Has anyone thought of the fact that writers always add the bath scene in the end.. but not a lot of them actually detail what happens in that moment of aftercare or if it's actually aftercare..? No more waiting!!! I wrote a bonus scene of Seonghwa and the reader spending some sweet steamy time in the tub, and it's steaming hot. 😋 I can't wait to post it. I love vampires oml.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and does not represent the reality of the member in any way.

The castle stood silent beneath the weight of the midnight hour, the heavy air thick with something unspoken. The towering chamber, adorned with black marble and flickering candelabras, felt like a prison, trapping the tension that crackled between you and him.

Lord Seonghwa.

A name that struck terror into men, that sent entire kingdoms to their knees. A name synonymous with power, desire, and ruin.

And yet—You were the only one who had ever defied him.

You stood before him now, bathed in silver moonlight, your arms crossed, an amused smirk tugging at your lips as he stared at you—his crimson eyes dark, predatory.

"You’re staring again, Seonghwa," you murmured, voice laced with amusement. "Careful, someone might think you’re desperate."

His jaw clenched so hard you swore you heard it crack.

"You think this is a game?" His voice was lower now, rougher. Darker.

You took a single step closer, just enough to let your perfume slip into his senses, just enough to let the warmth of your body make him ache. "I know it is."

He inhaled sharply, his fists clenching at his sides.

You had been tormenting him for months—years, if he were being honest. Every look you gave him, every soft breath, every time you allowed him close but never close enough—you were his downfall, his undoing.

"Say it," he rasped.

You tilted your head, feigning innocence. "Say what, vampire?"

He was in front of you before you could blink. His cold hands seized your waist, pulling you, your body flush against his. His breath was ragged, his control razor-thin.

"Say that you want me," he commanded, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "Say that you burn for me the way I burn for you."

You exhaled a soft, teasing breath, your fingers tracing the intricate patterns of his black silk shirt. "Why would I lie?"

His grip tightened, his fingers digging in as a growl vibrated through his chest.

"You cruel thing," he muttered. "You love this, don’t you?"

Your fingers trailed lower, barely grazing his stomach, feeling the way his muscles tensed beneath your touch.

"You make it too easy, my lord."

His fangs lengthened at your words. He ached for you. His entire being was consumed by the thought of having you—owning you, marking you, ruining you.

"You don’t know what you’re doing to me," he gritted out, his forehead pressing against yours, his breath shuddering as his hands traveled lower.

"Oh, I know," you whispered, letting your lips ghost over his. "I know exactly how much you want me."

A sharp, broken sound left his lips. He was at his limit.

"You enjoy seeing me like this?" His voice was wrecked, a raw, dangerous whisper. "You like knowing you’re the only one who has ever made me beg?"

Your smirk deepened, and you slowly, deliberately tilted your head, baring the delicate column of your throat to him.

"You’re a vampire, Seonghwa," you murmured. "Starvation is part of the curse, isn’t it?

His control snapped.

In a single, fluid motion, he had you pinned against the grand canopy bed, his body caging yours in. His lips crashed into your throat, kissing, tasting, devouring.

"You are cruel," he groaned against your skin, his fingers sliding up your thigh, gripping hard. "Do you know what you do to me?"

You gasped softly as his fangs scraped over your pulse, a warning—a promise.

"Then take what you want," you breathed, arching slightly against him.

Seonghwa froze. You felt his breath stutter, his hands trembling where they held you.

Slowly, he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. His crimson eyes were blown wide with hunger, his lips parted, his entire body shaking with restraint.

"Say it again," he whispered, his voice so desperate it sent a shiver down your spine.

You dragged your fingers into his raven-black hair, tugging him closer.

"Take what you want, vampire lord."

A sharp, guttural growl ripped from his throat.And then— His fangs pierced your skin.

A sharp gasp left your lips as molten heat surged through your veins. Your hands tightened in his hair again as his mouth latched onto your throat, drinking you in, consuming you.

A moan rumbled deep in his chest, his grip on you bruising as he finally— finally— tasted the one thing he had longed for.

"Mine," he rasped against your skin. "You are mine."

His lips were relentless, his hands everywhere—gripping, touching, claiming.

You shuddered beneath him, the intensity of his hunger overwhelming, intoxicating.

"Yours," you whispered, your fingers fisting in his hair.

Seonghwa pulled back just enough to look at you, his lips stained with your blood, his breath ragged.

"Say it again," he pleaded.

"Yours."

A sound somewhere between a growl and a groan left his lips before he crashed his mouth against yours, kissing you with a hunger that bordered on madness.

He would ruin you. And you would let him. The taste of you was his ruin.

Seonghwa had thought he understood hunger before. He had believed he knew what it meant to crave, to ache, to desire something so fiercely it bordered on madness.

He had lied to himself. Because this? You? You were his true starvation.

His lips were still stained red, his breath coming in ragged, uneven gasps as he pulled back, crimson eyes wild. His grip on you was bruising, his entire body trembling as if the taste of you had shattered something vital inside him.

"Seonghwa—"

Your voice was breathless, teasing, knowing. And it broke him. A guttural growl tore from his chest, and before you could so much as blink, his fangs were sinking into your skin again.

You gasped sharply, fingers tangling in his hair as he bit into the soft curve of your shoulder, groaning against you like a starved beast. His body caged you in, pressing you deeper into the silk sheets as he devoured you, lips trailing down, fangs scraping, sinking, claiming.

You moaned, your body arching into him, and his grip tightened on your hips, fingers digging in.

"You taste…" he rasped, pulling back just enough to drag his tongue over the fresh wound. His voice was wrecked, desperate, fucked out from nothing but the taste of you. "You taste like sin ."

You let out a soft, breathy chuckle, your nails raking down his back, feeling the way his musclescshuddered beneath your touch. "Then why do you look like you want to drown in it?"

His head snapped up, his gaze locking onto yours.

And you knew. You had pushed him. The last thread of his restraint snapped .

A growl rumbled from deep in his chest as he yanked your body beneath him, his lips trailing down, lower, lower , his mouth finding the delicate skin just above your heart—

And then he bit .

Harder.

Deeper.

Your back arched off the mattress, a sharp moan escaping your lips.

Seonghwa groaned against your skin, his hips pressing against yours as he drank deep , as if the taste of you had possessed him, made him something darker,hungrier .

"Seonghwa—"

Another bite.

You gasped, a whimper slipping free, fingers gripping his hair as he worshipped you with his fangs, with his lips, with his body .

"You are cruel ," he groaned, his tongue laving over the fresh wound before sinking his fangs into your neck this time, groaning at the feel of your pulse against his lips.

You shuddered beneath him, heat coiling in your core, your breaths coming in ragged, uneven gasps. "And you are obsessed."

His hands tightened on your thighs,spreading them apart as his hips pressed flush against yours.

"You're mine ," he growled, voice low, dark,dangerous .

You smirked, tilting your head, offering your throat to him again .

"Then prove it ."

A snarl left his lips—

And then he ruined you. He wouldn't stop. He didn't want to stop.

Your taste was a drug, and he was past the point of no return, past the point of anything resembling restraint. His lips moved feverishly , fangs sinking into your skin again and again—your neck, shoulders, collarbones, wrists—each bite deeper,needier , as if he were engraving himself into your very soul.

Each time he pulled away, his lips were red-stained, his eyes crazed , his breath ragged. " Mine ," he groaned against your pulse, hands sliding under your clothes, desperate, trembling. "I want— need —to feel you. All of you. No more barriers. No more teasing."

His fingers gripped the fabric of your clothing, his hands shaking as if he were on the edge of madness—but still, he waited. He needed you to say it.

And you did.

Soft. Breathless. A whisper against his lips.

" Take me, Seonghwa. "

A ragged moan ripped from his chest as his hands tore at your clothes. He stripped you down slowly , reverently, his fingers skimming your skin as if you were something holy , something meant to be worshipped .

His lips followed every inch of exposed flesh—his fangs trailing , scraping, nipping—marking you with deep red blossoms of possession.

" So beautiful, " he murmured against your stomach, pressing his lips to your hip bone, his fingers gripping your thighs. " So perfect. "

When you reached for his shirt, he let you pull it over his head, let you trace the sculpted lines of his body, your touch so soft, so delicate that he shuddered. And then you looked up at him—those wide, innocent, puppy eyes that made him snap.

" Fuck— "

His hands grabbed your waist, pushing you further onto your back, spreading your legs apart so abruptly you barely had time to gasp before his lips were on you.

A desperate growl left his throat as he devoured you, his tongue moving with deliberate, sinful precision, as if this was what he had craved for centuries.

You cried out, your fingers tangling in his jet-black hair as he moaned against you, as if your pleasure was his own undoing.

"You taste—" he groaned, his grip tightening on your thighs as he sucked at your clit. "You taste like I was made to worship you."

You whimpered, arching against him, losing yourself in the feel of his tongue, his lips, his fangs grazing against your trembling skin—

And Seonghwa just kept going.

Seonghwa parted your thighs with reverence, spreading you open as if you were something holy, something meant to be worshipped.

And he would worship you.

His gaze devoured you, hunger painting his features as he lowered himself, his lips brushing along the inside of your thigh. He inhaled deeply, eyes fluttering shut as if the very scent of you had him drunk, dizzy, wrecked.

Then—

His fangs sank in.

You gasped, back arching as his sharp teeth pierced your delicate skin. The sting bled into something pleasurable, something unbearably intoxicating, as his tongue followed, lapping at the fresh mark with a deep, guttural groan.

"Your blood…" he rasped, voice wrecked, lips feverish as he trailed open-mouthed kisses up your thigh, his fangs scraping teasingly over your hypersensitive skin. "Your taste—it’s going to ruin me."

Another bite.

A sharper moan spilled from your lips as he sucked the wound, his tongue flicking over it in slow, torturous strokes before his mouth moved higher. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you in place, his lips ghosting over your core, his breath hot and heavy against your damp heat.

And then—

His tongue flicked against your clit.

A ragged cry tore from your throat, your hands flying to his silken black hair, fingers twisting as he moaned, the vibrations sending a shockwave through your body.

He devoured you.

Lips sucking, tongue lapping, fangs grazing—he kissed you there with the same sensual, ravenous hunger that he had kissed your lips, his hands digging into your thighs, holding you still, keeping you open as he lost himself in the taste of you.

"So fucking sweet," he groaned, voice muffled as he suckled on your swollen bud, his tongue rolling in slow, lazy circles, making your thighs tremble around his head. "So fucking perfect."

Your breath hitched, your hips jerking, chasing the friction, but Seonghwa chuckled darkly, pressing your thighs down as his tongue dipped lower, teasing your entrance, tasting you with slow, languid strokes that made you sob his name.

"Look at you," he rasped against your slick folds, his voice deep, ruined. "Falling apart on my tongue. And I’ve barely even started."

And then he sucked, deep and harsh, his fangs grazing against your trembling skin as he dragged you closer and closer to the edge—

And he had no intention of stopping.

Seonghwa was cruel.

He was slow, teasing, dragging you through the flames of anticipation as he trailed his lips over your trembling thighs, his tongue flicking against your feverish skin between sharp, indulgent bites.

"You shake so beautifully for me," he murmured, his voice thick with desire, with hunger, his fingers kneading into the soft flesh of your legs as he sucked another deep, bruising mark into your inner thigh. "Are you afraid of how much you need me?"

You weren’t afraid.

But you were losing your mind.

His sharp fangs scraped your thigh again, dragging slow and deliberate before he kissed the mark—before his tongue flicked out, lapping at the wound with a groan so shamelessly sinful it sent a shiver down your spine.

You could feel his smirk against your skin. He knew what he was doing to you.

And he loved it.

Then, just when you thought you’d break, when your hips rolled up desperately seeking his mouth again—

His lips met your core.

A sharp cry tore from your throat as he licked a slow, sensual stripe over your folds, his tongue curling, tasting you thoroughly, deliberately, his groan vibrating against your soaked heat.

"You’re dripping for me," he rasped, his voice drenched in hunger, fascination, his fingers spreading you apart so he could see, so he could taste every drop of your arousal. "So needy. So desperate. And yet—"

His tongue flicked against your clit in a featherlight touch—so soft it made you whimper, made your hips jerk up, chasing the feeling.

He pulled away.

A dark, low chuckle left his lips, his breath fanning over your soaked folds, sending a shiver down your spine. "Look at you," he purred, amused, pressing a kiss right above where you needed him most. "Falling apart before I’ve even touched you properly."

"Seonghwa—"

"Ah, ah…" His fangs scraped your inner thigh again, making you jolt as he bit down, sucked, leaving another violet stain against your trembling skin. "Say it properly, sweetheart."

You whimpered, thighs trembling around his head. "Please…"

His lips curled against your thigh.

"That’s it," he murmured, voice dark with approval—and then, finally, he devoured you.

His mouth closed over your clit, sucking, his tongue flicking against the swollen bud in rapid, merciless strokes.

You sobbed his name.

Your body arched, your hands flying to his dark hair, fingers twisting as your thighs tried to squeeze around his head, to control the pleasure, but Seonghwa didn’t let you.

No, he pinned your hips down, growling as he held you open, drinking in every desperate, ragged moan as he buried himself in you.

His tongue licked into you slowly, teasing before he thrust it in deep, curling, stroking, before dragging up to flick, suck, devour—his pace relentless, his lips and tongue working in perfect sin to drive you straight to the edge.

"That’s it, sweetheart," he praised, his voice wrecked, his lips glistening as he suckled on your clit, rolling it against his tongue with purposeful, agonizing precision. "Give it to me."

Your thighs trembled.

Your back arched off the sheets, your hands yanking at his hair helplessly, gasping, shaking, your entire body a mess of heat and electricity as his mouth ruined you, owned you, claimed you.

And then—

He groaned into you. The sound vibrated against your core, sent you spiraling, sent stars bursting behind your eyes as the coil in your stomach snapped.

A shattered cry broke from your lips as you came hard, your body tensing, then shaking, then melting into the pleasure as his tongue kept moving, coaxing, soothing, lapping up every drop as if he could drink you in forever.

Seonghwa moaned as he pulled away, his fangs gleaming, his lips and chin glistening in the low candlelight.

"Fuck," he murmured, his voice dark, reverent, his fingers stroking up your trembling thighs as he licked his lips, tasting the remnants of your release with pure, feral satisfaction. "You taste better than anything I’ve ever had, sweetheart."

And you knew he wasn’t done with you yet.

Seonghwa was breathing heavy, his chest rising and falling with raw restraint, his fangs peeking from under his parted lips. He was starving. Not just for your blood. For you.

His fingers flexed against your thighs, his body taut with aching desire, with the need to take. To devour. To mark you so deeply you’d never belong to anyone else.

But you—

You just lay there, your body glowing under the candlelight, flushed and ruined, your chest rising and falling with every shallow, controlled breath.

Still playing with him.

Still teasing him even after he’d made you shake, sob, cum on his tongue.

His jaw clenched, his hands tightening on your thighs before he exhaled a shaky breath, dragging himself away from your heat before he lost all control.

His fingers went to the waistband of his pants.

Your eyes followed.

The moment the fabric hit the floor, your lips parted.

His cock sprung free, thick and aching, the flushed tip glistening with precum, standing proud against his sculpted stomach.

You swallowed. Seonghwa noticed. And it fucking destroyed him.

A dark, satisfied smirk tugged at his lips as he wrapped a long, elegant hand around his shaft, his fingers flexing, gripping himself, stroking slowly—so slow it made his breath shudder.

" What’s wrong, sweetheart? " he teased, voice deep, wrecked, thick with lust. " You look nervous. "

You met his gaze with that same unbothered, innocent expression, tilting your head, feigning nonchalance as your thighs instinctively pressed together.

Seonghwa chuckled, his grip tightening, his wrist twisting with every slow, purposeful stroke.

" Do you want to take care of this yourself? " he murmured, voice dark, indulgent, his fangs flashing as he hissed in pleasure. " Or should I keep going? "

The answer came immediately. You pushed yourself up on your knees, your body fluid, graceful, shifting to the edge of the bed until you were face to face with his cock, looking up at him with wide, feigned innocence.

Seonghwa inhaled sharply, his jaw tensing, his control hanging by a thread.

" Eager now, aren’t we? " he murmured, amusement laced with pure, agonizing hunger.

You didn’t answer. You just licked your lips.

His hand shot to the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair, not forcing, just holding—just watching as you breathed him in, as your hands slid up his thighs, as your nails dragged over his taut muscles, sending a violent shudder through his body.

And then— He slapped his cock against your lips. A wet, filthy sound filled the air as his heavy, aching length met your soft, warm skin, precum smearing across your lips, marking you, teasing you. Seonghwa groaned, low, guttural, his head tipping back at the sight of your pretty, swollen lips glistening with him.

" Look at you, " he murmured, breathless, desperate, tapping his cock against your lips again, smearing his arousal against the curve of your mouth. " My perfect little thing, finally where she belongs. "

You still didn’t answer. But your lips parted. And Seonghwa lost his mind.

Seonghwa’s patience was hanging by a thread.

You were kneeling before him, lips parted, eyes wide, your breath warm against his aching, leaking cock—and yet…

You weren’t taking him in. You were toying with him. A soft, delicate kiss was pressed against his swollen tip, your lips barely brushing over the precum that had gathered there. A soft, barely-there flick of your tongue followed, innocent, playful, tasting him—teasing him—but never truly giving him what he needed.

Seonghwa’s fingers tightened in your hair, his breath hitching as he watched you pull back just slightly, lips glossy, eyes still full of that damn feigned innocence.

" Sweetheart, " he murmured, voice wrecked, low, dark. " You’re playing a very dangerous game. "

A flutter of your lashes. A mocking tilt of your head.

" Am I? "

Seonghwa growled, the sound inhuman, sending a chill down your spine.

" You think I’ll let you keep teasing me? " His fingers tugged you closer, his cock pulsing in his grip. " You think I’ll let you play with me like this? "

You only giggled, lips grazing his cock again, just barely, your hands sliding up his thighs, light, teasing, before pulling away again.

Something inside him snapped.

" Enough. "

With one firm tug, Seonghwa tilted your head back, forcing your mouth wide open, fingers tightening in your hair as he angled you just right—

And then he thrust in.

The sound that left you was a mix of shock and pleasure, a soft whimper swallowed by the sheer force of him, by the way he filled your mouth, stretching you past your limits.

" That’s it, " Seonghwa groaned, voice shaking, head tipping back at the warmth of your mouth, the way your tongue pressed against his throbbing veins. " Finally behaving. "

Your hands flew to his thighs, nails digging in, trying to steady yourself as he pushed deeper—slowly, purposefully, making sure you felt every inch as he slid down your throat.

Until he hit the back. Until your nose met his pelvis. Until he buried himself completely inside you, the sheer size of him bulging in your throat, a perfect outline of his cock visible against your delicate skin.

" Fuck, " Seonghwa shuddered, his free hand brushing over the bulge in your throat, pressing just slightly, feeling himself inside you.

Your throat tightened around him at the pressure, and he swore loudly, his grip in your hair tightening, his cock throbbing.

" You feel that, sweetheart? " His thumb traced the bulge with dark fascination, a deep, satisfied growl rumbling from his chest. " That’s me— sweetly deep in your fucking throat. "

You let out a soft, muffled moan, your tongue flexing, sending a jolt of blinding pleasure through him.

His breath was shaky, his control hanging by a thread. And then— He pulled back. Just an inch. Just enough to let you breathe for half a second— Before he thrust back in, this time faster, rougher, forcing you to take him completely once more.

Your nails dug into his thighs, your body trembling, eyes glassy as he set a deep, steady pace, fucking into your mouth inch by inch, watching the way your lips stretched around him, the way your throat clenched, the way your eyes fluttered shut with every thrust. He was losing himself in you. You were ruining him.

" Mine, " Seonghwa rasped, his grip unrelenting, desperate, possessive. " You’re fucking mine. “

Whatever restraint he had left had shattered the moment he saw the tears glistening in your eyes, the way they spilled down your flushed cheeks as you struggled to take his impossible length.

You were choking on him, your throat clenching, tightening with every desperate gasp, every helpless little whimper that vibrated against his cock.

And fuck, that only made him thrust harder.

" Look at you, " Seonghwa hissed, fingers tangling tighter in your hair, holding you firmly in place as he fucked your throat open. " Crying on my cock like a good girl. "

You gagged, saliva dripping down your chin, your hands shaking against his thighs as he hit the back of your throat over and over again—relentless, deep, merciless.

Your lungs burned, your body quivering, but you could feel his cock throbbing, the tension in his muscles coiling tighter, the deep, wrecked groans falling from his lips becoming more desperate.

He was close. And then—

Seonghwa’s grip tightened, his hips snapping forward one last time, burying himself deep, making sure you took every inch, making sure you felt him as he came hard down your throat.

A low, broken growl tore from his chest, his cock pulsing, thick ropes of hot cum spilling down your throat, forcing you to swallow quickly or risk choking. But there was too much.

A gasp caught in your throat as the warmth overflowed, dripping from the corners of your mouth, running down your chin, your neck, staining your skin as you trembled beneath him.

Seonghwa groaned, watching the mess he made, watching the way you struggled to swallow every drop, your body shaking with the effort.

" Swallow. All of it. " His voice was low, hoarse, his thumb swiping across your lips, pushing the stray drops back into your mouth.

You obeyed, blinking up at him, teary-eyed, cheeks flushed, mouth still slightly open, a soft pant escaping you as you caught your breath.

And fuck—Seonghwa nearly lost it again.

" You look so fucking pretty like this, " he murmured, voice shaky, his thumb brushing over your lips, pressing down gently before he pulled you up by the hair.

Before he flipped you over.

A gasp left you as you were suddenly bent over the bed, your cheek pressed against the sheets, your body still shaking from how he just wrecked your throat.

And then— You felt his hands on you. Roaming. Exploring. Gripping.

You let out a soft whimper as he yanked your hips higher, pressing his aching cock against your soaking folds, dragging it along your wetness, teasing you, taunting you. But before he could push in, before he could claim you completely, he did something else first.

He bit you.

A sharp gasp left your lips as his fangs sank into your back, right between your shoulder blades, deep, hard, sending a jolt of pleasure and pain through your spine.

He groaned as your blood filled his mouth, hot, sweet, intoxicating.

His tongue flicked over the fresh wound, soothing, before he sucked harder, drinking you in, devouring you, desperate to have more, more, more.

" Mine, " Seonghwa growled against your skin, his hands tightening on your hips, his cock throbbing against you. " You’re mine, sweetheart. "

And then—He thrust in and he snapped.

The second he buried himself inside you, the second your tight heat squeezed around his cock, he lost it.

" Fuck— " his voice broke, his grip on your hips bruising, his breath ragged against your spine. " You’re… so tight, sweetheart—so fucking tight for me. "

He pulled back, just enough to let you feel the stretch, to let you feel the obscene thickness of him dragging against your walls—

Before he slammed back in.

A cry left your lips as he hit deep, so deep you could feel the ache in your stomach, the pressure, the way your body adjusted around his impossible size.

And fuck, Seonghwa felt it too.

His hand slid down, pressing against your lower belly, feeling the way his cock was bulging through your skin, how stuffed you were, how completely ruined he was making you.

" God… look at you, " he groaned, pressing down harder, watching the way you shuddered, how your walls fluttered around him. " You feel that, sweetheart? Feel how fucking deep I am? "

You let out a whimper, biting your lip, trying so hard to keep your composure, but—

Seonghwa wasn't having it.

With a low, wicked chuckle, he snapped his hips forward, hitting that perfect spot so precisely that you choked on your moan, your nails digging into the sheets.

" Oh, don’t hold back now, " he taunted, voice dripping with hunger, fangs grazing the curve of your shoulder as he thrust into you again—harder, faster, making your body jolt forward with each movement. " You wanted to tease me? Let’s see how well you can take it, pretty girl. "

A wicked idea flickered through your hazy mind—

Between his punishing thrusts, you arched your back, pressing your ass against him, grinding down on his cock, making it feel even tighter, even deeper.

" You little— " His fingers tightened around your throat, yanking you back against his chest, his other hand gripping your thigh, spreading you wider for him. " Do you enjoy testing me, my love? "

You gasped, eyes rolling back as his cock hit that spot again, as his fangs pressed against your pulse, as the pleasure overwhelmed you.

" S-Seonghwa— "

" That’s right. " His voice was dark, possessive, his tongue flicking over your rapidly beating pulse before he sank his fangs in.

The moment his teeth pierced your skin, his hips pounded into you faster, harder, sending you spiraling, sending you straight into oblivion.

You cried out, body tensing, clenching, your orgasm hitting you so violently you could feel the heat explode through your veins, feel your walls fluttering around him, feel the pulsating grip you had on his cock.

And fuck—that was it for him.

Seonghwa let out a guttural moan, his rhythm stuttering, his grip tightening as he bottomed out one last time, cock throbbing, filling you with his hot, thick release, marking you in every possible way.

But he wasn’t done. Not yet.

" One more time, sweetheart, " he whispered, pressing soft kisses against the new bite on your throat. " I need you again… I need to ruin you all over again. "

Seonghwa didn’t move.

Even with his cock buried deep inside you, even with the aftershocks of both your releases still lingering between you, he simply held you close, forehead pressed to yours, his breath shaky, his lips ghosting over your skin as if he never wanted to part from you again.

But he wasn’t done yet. No—this wasn’t over. It couldn’t be.

His fangs slowly retracted, the predator in him finally soothed, but his hunger for you was far from satisfied.

Not yet. Not until he gave you all of him.

Not until you understood just how much you meant to him.

With a soft hum, he tilted your chin up, his dark, obsidian eyes searching yours, his expression unreadable—until he leaned in and kissed you.

But this kiss was different. It wasn’t full of desperation or lust. It was slow. Deep.

His lips moved against yours with reverence, as if he were worshipping you, memorizing you, pouring every ounce of devotion and love he had for you into that single kiss.

You melted, your arms wrapping around his shoulders, pulling him closer, your heart pounding at the way he sighed into your mouth, like this was all he ever wanted.

He rocked his hips forward. Slowly.

A long, languid thrust that had you whimpering softly against his lips, your walls still sensitive and raw from the last time. But there was no rush now.

No hunger, no desperation—just love. Pure, unfiltered love.

" Let me love you, " Seonghwa murmured against your lips, his hand cradling your face, his thumb stroking your cheek. " Let me show you how much you mean to me. "

Your breath hitched. Because this—this was what you wanted. What you craved from him. What you had teased him for, tortured him for—for him to give in, to devote himself entirely to you, to confess what he truly felt. And he was finally doing it.

You could feel it in the way he moved inside you, his thrusts deep and slow, his cock stretching you perfectly, hitting every spot with precision, making you tremble beneath him.

You could feel it in the way he kissed you, how he took his time savoring your lips, breathing you in, as if he needed you more than blood itself.

And you could feel it in the way he whispered against your skin, each word sinking into you like a spell—

" I love you. "

A sharp gasp escaped you, your hands gripping onto him, your nails digging into his back, because fuck, the way he said it— So softly. So vulnerable. So genuine.

" I love you, " he whispered again, lips brushing over your cheek, your jawline, your neck, his words melting into your skin, sealing themselves into your soul.

" Let me have you forever, " he pleaded, his voice trembling, his thrusts growing deeper, smoother, his fingers lacing with yours. " Be mine, and I’ll give you everything—eternity, devotion, love—everything. "

A choked moan left you, your body tightening around him, your heart pounding wildly, because fuck—you could feel it.

The intensity of his love. The depth of his devotion. He wasn’t lying. He would give you everything. And for the first time—you let go.

" I’m yours, " you whispered, your voice soft, breathy, full of need, and fuck—that sent him over the edge.

His cock twitched deep inside you, his pace stuttering, a deep, broken moan tearing from his throat as his release spilled into you, filling you up one last time.

And the moment he felt you clench around him, the moment he felt your entire body tremble, your orgasm washing over you like a slow, sensual wave, he kissed you again, swallowing every whimper, every sigh, until the both of you were left panting against each other.

—

Seonghwa pulled out slowly, making you whine softly at the loss of fullness, at the way his warmth left you empty, but he was quick to soothe you.

His fingers traced every bite mark, his lips pressing soft, tender kisses over each one, admiring the evidence of his love on your body.

His fangs were gone, retracted, his hunger finally sated.

And now—all that was left was devotion.

" So beautiful, " he murmured, running his hands down your sides, marveling at you, at how thoroughly ruined you were for him.

He wrapped you in his arms, pressing your sweaty, exhausted body against his chest, holding you close, his fingers rubbing soothing circles on your back.

You were his. Forever.

" Come, " he murmured after a moment, shifting to sit up. " Let’s take a bath. "

You barely had the energy to nod, your limbs weak, but as he moved to stand, Hongjoong’s teasing voice floated through the room.

" Bath, huh? " he mused from the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, a knowing smirk on his lips. " You sure that’s all you want to do in there, my Lord? "

Seonghwa rolled his eyes, but the smirk that tugged at his lips was undeniable.

" Would it be a crime if I wanted one more round? " he murmured, nipping at your ear playfully.

You chuckled, your tired body still buzzing with warmth, and as you snuggled into his embrace, you whispered—

" I think I could handle one more. "

“But let's get you washed up first, my love.”

And just like that—the night was far from over.

NETWORKS:

@blossomnet

@illusionnet

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@mingleshine @musiclovingfairy @crazylittlebisexual @sanhwalvr @artistic-rendition @hongjoongtime117 @cypher-03 @peachy-bell26 @atiny1 @my-atiny-kookie-rkive @atzlordz @chai0tea @miyaluvvsyou

[ponyojujuu]

not a drabble, list with thoughts!

most to least likely to get turned on when you wear their clothes (&team pt 2.)

not smut, but not fluff

slightly suggestive content mdni

you have been warned

nicho! nicholas loves this shit dude. i mean LOVES. not only is he a fucking fashion dork, so he’s already gonna wanna dress you up in his clothes. but he’d loose his mind if you casually just wore his clothes with nothing underneath. the way his baggy clothes would sit on your naked body would make him go insane. he’d probably even fuck you in his shirt. since he’s the jealous type he would probably offer you to wear his clothes when you go out because they’re baggy. likes that matching couple shit too. would fanboy over you in his clothes.

euijoo! euijoo seems like he has very oddly specific turn ons because he’s perverted. which is why this would definitely be one of them. i think euijoo had a huge thing with scents and would be obsessed with yours. he wouldn’t know at first how much he loves when you wear his clothes but after you return his hoodie the first time he’s ADDICTED to your scent on his clothing. i think he’d be really shy to admit that he loves when you wear his clothes but you’d find out eventually. because every-time you wear his clothes he’s instinctively really touchy and can’t stop staring. you know he’s turned on now.

jo! if jo is your boyfriend there’s no way you can do no harm in his eyes, he already has the patience of a saint there’s no way he wouldn’t love to share his clothing with you. he’d see you wear his clothes and be like, “is that mine?” “yeah.. sorry-” “no keep it” is how the conversation would go between you too. he’d instantly agree that his clothes look better on you and would start giving them to you before you could even ask/take them. jo gets flustered easily so the first time he sees you in his clothes it will turn him on and he won’t know how to react. he’ll get used to it eventually but i think he’d still be super attracted to you when you do this.

taki! taki loves this shit too tbh. i think he would have a dorky way of teasing you about it because his clothes would be so oversized on you and it would be laughable. also teasing how you always wanna wear his clothes instead of your own. but he’d actually prefer it that way, seems like he’d wanna fuck you in just his big t-shirt also. he would double take if you walked around the house with just his shirt and no underwear. underneath all the teasing would be him shooting you seductive glares.

fuma! i think fuma has bad self-control so he probably gets horny pretty quickly and hates being teased/seduced. so it’s not that you wearing his clothes wouldn’t turn him on, but then he’d have to rip them off of you and ruin his clothes because he’d much rather see you naked. he’s so chill and nonchalant though so what’s his is yours including his clothes so he lets you wear them. this definitely gets him worked up he just hates the disadvantage so it would either go two ways, he takes it off before your even wearing it for a few minutes or you just sleep/walk around naked. or well ofc in your own clothes LOL.

harua! i think sharing clothes between you and harua is really a normal thing which is why he may not get as turned on as the others. he probably likes when you wear his clothes out in public since they’re baggy and people won’t look at you too much(he gets jealous). but i think harua would really adore anything you do, so i think there would be certain times where he can’t hide his desires when you wear his clothing.

yuma! similar to fuma, i just think this gets him really sexually frustrated. because your teasing him with the idea of being fully naked under his big t-shirt there’s no way he’d be able to just stay still or continue on with the day like normal. he’d rather you wear his clothes after you guys fuck. that way he’s tired and your going to sleep so it doesn’t matter. he also seems like he might feel a little off-put if he goes into his closet and you stole his favorite shirt/hoodie and he can’t find it. if you really wanted to chill in his clothes, he’d let you, he would just be fighting a boner the whole time.

kei! i don’t know why but i just imagine kei will find this silly. because he’ll see you in his clothes and how oversized it is and think it looks funny because he prefers you in tighter clothes. of course at the end of the day it doesn’t matter, kei seems like the worshiping type so he’s gonna compliment you regardless. but i can just see him taking a ton of pictures of you in his clothes because he just finds it so silly that your wearing his clothes. but if you find them comfortable he’ll lend you all of them to see you smile. but i don’t really see this turning him on very much.