#idk how long it will take for him to be ready for blog

[augustghosts]

Godless Devotion

Han Jisung x fem!reader

Jisung is a creepy little pervert and manages to lure you to his apartment…. Yeah.

Word count: 4.2k

Warnings: SMUT! MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI FR. Not proofread. Non!idol au and veerryyyy ooc Han obvs. Fem reader. Stalking. Reader is under the influence. Thigh riding, Fingering & a nasty blowjob. Jisung manipulates and lies, especially at the end.

Note: hmmm i looked at Han’s beautiful face and saw his kind heart and said yes… let me make him evil. Idk if there is even a market for this kind of stuff in the skz fandom so there might be a mob with torches and pitchforks at my door tomorrow…. but yeah, I’m scared. I’m obsessed with beautiful men with kind eyes being sex demons behind closed doors.

Jisung was nervous, for the first time in a long time. His fingers opened and closed around the cross necklace that hung on his chest. She was late, the first red flag. Did she realise that him asking her on a second date and suggesting his apartment as the location was fucking weird and decided not to show up? Did she…know? No, she couldn’t know. He checked his phone again, no text or call. Did something happen to her on the way? Fuck, why didn’t he offer to pick her up? He knows the route you would take from your house to the area he lived in. He’s watched you do it a million times. He knows exactly how long it should take, right down to the last second. What kind of man was he? Did she-

The doorbell. Holy shit. Jisung jumped out of his seat, literally, and gave the kitchen another look over before heading to the door. Okay, everything was fine. Everything is in place. He swings the door open with a charming, boyish smile on his face. The one you liked so much. His eyes drag down over your body, you're wearing a simple black dress.

“Hey!” He grins at you, gesturing for you to step inside.

“Sorry I'm late, I don't really have an excuse. I just lost track of time when I was getting ready.” You say sheepishly. Thanking him as he takes your jacket and bag off of your shoulders and hangs them up behind the front door with his own things. He looks handsome, he’s wearing dark blue jeans and a long sleeved black shirt. But you can clearly see his muscled arms and shoulders under the fabric.

“No need to apologise!” He smiles enthusiastically. “You’re only a few minutes late. No trouble at all.”

You feel guilty as you look over his small kitchen, the food already set out and waiting for you.

“I hope you don’t mind sitting down to eat straight away. But… it’s your fault for being late.” He smirks at you, relieved that you laugh at his joke.

“I didn’t know you could cook.” You smile at him as you sit opposite him. “I wasn’t sure what to expect.”

“I’m full of surprises. There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me.” He grins at you again. That gummy smile of his that takes over his whole face. Thankfully, you don’t catch on to his sinister undertones. Of course you don’t, he’s a good actor - at least he thinks so. To you, he’s your sweet little Jisung who took you to your favourite coffee spot on your first date and is cooking for you on your second date. Which is a lie, this was all premade food he reheated. And he had already been stalking you for months before that first date, he knew the coffee shop you went to every day. And he did a good fucking job of acting surprised when you said ‘oh my god! I love this place too!’.

“I’m learning that.” You respond with a giggle, pulling him out of his thoughts. What? Oh, right. He’s full of surprises, as you’re about to find out. The food is good… considering.

“What is this?” You realise you never asked, rudely. Jisung has been watching you eat intently and he quickly looks down at his plate before answering.

“Just beef. Nothing too special.” He smiles. This time his smile doesn’t reach his eyes as he watches your fork stab another piece of meat and bring it up to your mouth. The meat tastes more like pork and it’s kind of… chewy. But nothing you can’t finish, and you’re thankful he took the effort to cook. He’s such a sweetheart, you think while looking back up at him.

“What?” You ask shyly when you realise he’s still staring at you.

He snaps out of it, his eyes are a little glazed over as they snap up to yours. “You just… you look beautiful.” He smiles sweetly. “I didn’t tell you when you first walked in. But you do.”

“Thank you, Jisung.” You smile brightly and he almost feels guilty… almost. “You look good too, very handsome.”

He smiles back at you and suddenly remembers the bottle of wine on the counter. “Oh! Drink?” He asks, but he’s already getting up and pouring it before you can answer. He needs to work fast, so he can blame it on the alcohol. He pushes the glass into your hand and like the polite angel that you are, you thank him and drink it. He drinks too, as you both begin to talk and eat again, but not too much. He needs a clear head.

You’ve almost finished your plate, and two glasses of wine later, when he notices you sitting back in your seat and sighs, he can’t help the excitement that builds in his stomach. You look up and notice the cross hanging on the wall, for some reason you can’t take your eyes off of it.

“You okay?” He asks innocently.

“Yeah I just… maybe I shouldn't drink anymore.” You laugh awkwardly.

“Oh..” He says softly, standing up to come over to your side. “You don’t feel good? Are you a lightweight?”

You look up at him as he stands beside you, his hand on the back of your chair. Jisung isn’t that tall, but he towers over you like this. You’re not sure why but you start to feel a little uneasy. Perhaps it's the way he’s looking at you, like he’s waiting for something.

“Maybe I should…” You try to stand, ready to tell him that maybe you should go home but you feel dizzy and your knees buckle. Jisung catches you expertly - almost as if he predicted it.

“Woah!” He laughs as he gently holds you up, one hand around your waist and the other gripping your arm. “Come sit over here, it’s more comfortable.” He leads you over to the couch, your legs feeling like jelly, damn… you only had three glasses.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have offered you wine, hm?” He smiles up at you as he crouches in front of you, his hand gently touching your knee.

“No… that was kind of you.” You mumble. “Thank you for cooking for me.”

“It was no trouble, I'm happy to do it. I’d do anything if it meant seeing you.” He says, his voice suddenly sounds different… like he’s desperate… yearning almost. That’s just the way he is, your sweet little Jisung. So you smile at him.

“I like seeing you too.” You don’t notice how your voice sounds a little more slurred now, but Jisung does. He tries to keep his face neutral as his cock stirs in his jeans.

“Maybe I should go, Jisung… I'm sorry.”

“No!” He says, a little too loudly. He rectifies it immediately, putting on his sweet and gentle voice again. “No… No, it's okay. You can stay here for a bit, until you feel better.”

You look down at his hand on your knee, he starts rubbing slow circles on your heated skin as he speaks. For some reason, you feel more sensitive. Your head feels foggy but Jisung’s soft touch sends sparks through you, that simple motion sends a shiver down your spine. Jisung notices, he’s watching you so intensely right now he would notice even the most miniscule movement. Your brain feels slow and foggy. All you can focus on is him, how his hand is moving against your leg and how it slowly moves higher. He keeps rubbing comforting circles on your skin as he moves his large hand up to your thigh.

“What are you doing?” You whisper quietly, eyes glued to how his hand wraps around your thigh.

“Just making sure you’re okay,” He whispers sweetly. “You feel hot, baby. Are you warm?”

You nod slowly, looking at him with glassy eyes. He almost groans and his hand tightens on your skin. You did feel hot all of a sudden.

“I’m gonna help you okay?” He whispers, standing up and sitting down beside you. His hand moves back to your thigh and the other comes up to move your hair off of your shoulder, his knuckles brush your skin and you shudder. Everything feels on fire, your skin… his touch. His lips press to your shoulder and you’re not sure how this is helping you, but it feels good and your body feels too heavy to move. He keeps pressing his lips to your skin, travelling up your neck to your ear. He’s breathing heavily with excitement, his hand shaking a little as he hooks his fingers under the strap of your dress and pushes it off of your shoulder so he can press his lips there. You moan softly and feel his lips smile against your skin.

“Fuck, you’re so gorgeous, baby.” He breathes against your cheek as he grasps your chin to make you face him. “I’ve wanted you for so fucking long.”

His fingers keep their tight grasp on your jaw as he leans in to kiss you, gently at first, he knows it will take a moment for you to reciprocate. He feels you tense at first and he rubs your thigh softly, eventually you begin to slowly kiss him back. His hand that was on your thigh wraps around your waist to pull you closer to him, you feel slightly limp in his arms and he loves it. Eventually you manage to bring one of your hands up to limply grasp his wrist, the one that’s still grasping your chin.

Jisung gets rougher with you when he realises you’re not trying to fight back or push him away. You’re not sure if it’s because you can’t or because you want him to continue. You’re confused and your brain isn’t working quickly enough for you to think straight. He pushes his tongue into your mouth and shoves you down onto the couch. He climbs on top of you, caging you underneath him. Your hands grasp his muscular arms as they hold him up on either side of you. He pushes his hips into yours and you can feel how hard he is under his jeans. You whimper into his mouth and he pulls away and grins down at you. It’s kind of scary, he’s smiling so big - the pure joy on his face is unsettling and you whine underneath him.

He shushes you as you squirm, stroking your hair and pressing kisses to your cheek. When you squirm your hips you realise how fucking wet you are, when did that happen?

“Jisung…” You whisper, shifting your hips again to try and release the pressure building between your legs. You feel like you’re sweating. “It’s… hot.”

“I know, baby. I know.” He pouts down at you and whispers. “I’m sorry. I am. I just… I want you so badly.”

He gets off of you and stands up, you whine and reach for him - grasping his wrist. He puts his other hand over yours and uses it to gently pull you up into a sitting position again. You squeeze your eyes shut as a wave of nausea washes over you.

“It’s okay, angel. It’ll go away.” He whispers softly as he helps you to your feet. “I’m gonna take you to my room, okay?”

You nod drowsily and let him guide you through his apartment to his bedroom. He sits you down on the bed and cups your face, he stares at you again for a few seconds before he reaches behind you to fumble with the zip of your dress. You let him, the offending fabric is starting to feel like it’s sticking to your damn skin. He slips it off of your shoulders and helps you lift your hips so he can pull it off of your legs. You flop backwards onto the bed and close your eyes, your legs dangling off the bed as he stands in front of you. Your thighs squeeze together when his knuckles brush your calf as he discards the dress and he smiles again.

“You need some help?” He asks softly, letting his hand slide up your leg from your calf to your thigh. You nod and whine his name quietly. He stifles a groan as he feels nis cock ache at the sound. “You sound so fucking pretty baby. I wanna hear what other sounds you can make for me.” He mumbles, looking at you spread out in nothing but your bra and panties on his bed. God, he was a fucking genius. He couldn’t believe he actually got you here in this position.

“Sit up, baby.” He says as he sits beside you on the edge of the bed. You sit up slowly, resting on your elbows and look at him blearily. “Come here.” He pats his lap. You haul yourself up and perch on one of his thighs, his hands grip your hips tightly - squeezing your flesh a little roughly. You try to kiss him and he pulls back from you, dragging a whine from your lips. He flexes his thigh underneath you and you jolt on his lap, pulling a chuckle from his throat.

He uses his grip on your waist to encourage you to move on his lap. “Come on, make yourself feel good.”

Your brain catches up slowly but eventually your hips begin to move without his hands helping you, chasing your high. Everything feels heightened and sensitive, even with the barrier of your panties stopping you from feeling the full effect of the rough denim of his jeans on your clit. You rut against his thigh, small moans and gasps falling from your lips. Jisung’s eyes are stuck between you, watching the way you drag your pussy over his leg.

“Fuck you’re so hot, baby. Shit, that’s it.” He babbles as he grips your ass tightly, kneading it as you hump him. He knows your panties are making it hard for you, lessening the sensation and keeping you just on the edge of an orgasm. “What’s wrong? Hm?” He feigns innocence as you start to whine against his shoulder.

“I… I can’t.” You whisper into his ear, your breath against his skin making him hiss.

“Can’t what?” He whispers back, he sounds breathless - as if he has been the one humping someone's leg for the past few minutes. That's just the effect you have on him. Plus the fact that he’s more turned on than he’s ever been in his life.

“Please…” You whimper, tightening your arms around his neck. “Please help me cum. I need it.”

“I’ll help you, angel.” He sighs and gently lifts you off his lap and lays you down on the bed. You’re laying on your back and he’s on his side next to you. “That’s what you are, you know? My angel. Fuck, youre so fucking wet.” He whispers into your ear as his hand slides down your stomach and pushes your panties to the side. His fingers immediately find your clit and he makes quick circles, desperate to see you fall apart. “I’d do anything for you, my angel. I’ll give you anything you want… anything. All you have to do is ask.”

His fingers drift down and slide inside you, he’s gentle - but he knows exactly what he’s doing. He watches your reactions closely. Your eyes are screwed shut and your hands are squeezing his bicep of the arm that’s holding him up beside your head. It doesn’t take long for him to make you cum with his fingers. You’re already so worked up from basically nothing. He talks you through it, shushing and cooing at you as you arch your back and cry out his name. He’s delighted, that’s all he’s ever wanted to hear.

When you calm down, all you can feel is how hard he is. How he’s pressing against the outside of your thigh, straining in his jeans. You practically have tunnel vision at this point and you reach for his zipper, chasing him, his scent, the need to feel him and maybe another orgasm. After your first one, you just wanna feel him. You just want him close to you, so you make a noise of protest as he peels away from you and stands up.

He makes a show of putting the fingers that were inside you between his lips and sucking them clean before he lifts his shirt over his head. You watch him with your jaw slack and eyes wide and glassy, his abs tense and ripple as he sheds his clothes and towers over you again, now only in his boxers, his length practically in your face as you scoot forward and sit on the edge of the bed.

You reach for his cock and he moans out loud when you wrap your hand around him and pull him out. He hisses and you waste no time leaning forward and licking his tip. You’re not sure why you suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to have him in your mouth, but its fucking glorious. The weight of him against your tongue, the way he instantly grabs a fistful of your hair with no regard for whether it hurts you or not. It does, your scalp burns as he pulls on the makeshift ponytail but you feel like it's worth it when you hear the noises he’s making.

He had wanted to fuck you, that was his whole plan tonight. But your mouth feels so fucking good aroumd his dick and you’re a lot more eager than he anticipated. He’ll fuck you next time. Because there will be a next time, he can’t get enough of you. Would you have let him touch you without all the effort? Shit, maybe. But he can’t deny that he lives for this. The hunt and the chase. He loves being in control, and this is his favourite way to do it. And you’ve been so good for him, his perfect little angel. You haven’t fought him like others have. You haven’t passed out and left him with blue balls like others have. He knew you’d be like this just… perfect. That’s why he had to do this. He needed to have you.

“You gonna let me fuck this pretty face, angel?” He can tell you’re tired and drowsy, not putting in the full effort he needs to finish in your mouth. So he keeps hold of your hair in one hand and uses the other to grasp your jaw as he starts to thrust. He knows he’s gonna cum quickly, he has an unfortunate habit of doing that. Especially when you look up at him with glazed, pleading eyes.

“Fuck, you almost made me cum too soon.” He groans loudly and tips his head back to look at the ceiling, using your hair to rip you off of his cock. You’re drooling and breathing heavily and it's the most beautiful sight he’s ever seen. He takes a few deep breaths before he starts using your mouth again. You rest your hands on his thighs, letting him take you. The way he talks to you, the way he’s babbling praises at you while he’s being so rough with you - pulling your hair and gaging you on his dick. It makes you wanna stay like this forever, you don’t even remember how you ended up in this situation.

He looks heavenly when he finally finishes in your mouth, his hand tightening even more in your hair and you cry out around his cock at the stinging pain that radiates through your scalp. He holds you down as he spurts down your throat. You feel disgusting as you gag and splutter around him, trying your best to swallow what he’s giving you while also trying to breathe through your nose.

He eventually lets you go, but not before relishing in your struggle. He watches you with a grin before letting you fall backwards onto the bed.

“Shhh, shhh. I know, baby.” He cups your face and kisses you, tasting himself and your sweat on your lips. He knows kissing you isn’t helping you catch your breath, so he pulls back and strokes your hair. “You did so well. So fucking good. You’re so perfect.” He mumbles as he manoeuvres you to lay down on his bed. “You can sleep now. It’s okay… it’s okay.”

He covers you with his blanket and disappears. Your eyes are blurry and closing of their own accord and you let the darkness envelop you. Jisung stands in the bathroom staring at himself in the mirror. His eyes stuck on the cross necklace around his neck. He grasps the pendant in his hand and brings it to his lips before grabbing a washcloth and making his way back to his room. You’re already dead asleep by the time he comes back. He cleans you up, wiping your face and admiring you for a second. He tucks the blanket back around you before climbing into his bed next to you. He turns off the light and stares at the ceiling until he falls asleep, listening to your slow breathing beside him.

It’s late into the afternoon when Jisung sees you stirring awake. He’s been awake for hours, sitting in the chair at his desk and watching you sleep. He shoots up and quickly exits the room so you don’t catch him staring. He waits just outside the door, listening and watching - like always.

What the fuck? Is the first thing on your mind when you open your eyes. You take in your surroundings slowly, your eyes still feel heavy and your head is pounding. Your whole body aches. You panic when you realise you’re in a bedroom you’ve never seen before. Where the fuck are your clothes? Why are you in your underwear? You scramble out of the bed only to be forced back down by the nausea and pain that hits you. You jump out of your skin when Jisung makes his perfectly timed entry, acting as if he hadn’t been watching you from the hallway.

He lifts his hands in joking surrender when you jump and cover yourself with the blanket. He took his shirt off while he was in the hallway, to add to the illusion that he had also just woken up. Also he figured that you waking up in just your underwear and him being fully clothed would scare you more. You relax when you recognise him. Happy that he looks just as disheveled as you. Now you remember, you were here on a date with him last night. He had cooked for you. The last thing you remember is him offering you wine.

“Jisung…” You sigh, smiling at him sleepily. “What…what happened?”

“I don’t know,” He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m guessing we drank way too much? I remember us finishing that first bottle of wine and opening another.”

“Really? Shit, I don't even remember that. Did we… we had sex didn’t we?”

“Yeah.” He looks down at the floor before pointing at the glass of water he left on the bedside table. “I’m… I'm really sorry, angel. I shouldn’t have gotten so carried away I just… I was having such a good time with you.”

“No! No, don't apologise, Jisung.” You reach for his hand. He’s still standing in front of you and you pull him down to sit beside you, stroking the back of his hand. “Don’t apologise. We both got carried away, we both drank a lot.”

“We did.” He chuckles and you join him. “I just feel like I should've…”

“No, it’s okay.” You smile sweetly at him. “You were drunk too. No one is to blame.”

He sighs and looks at the ground and your heart brakes. You don’t want him to feel guilt over this. Your sweet boy Jisung, he doesn’t deserve that.

“Hey, I like that nickname.” You smile, still holding his hand and stroking his knuckles.

“Hm?”

“You called me angel, a second ago. I like it.”

“Yeah?” He smiles so brightly at you, he looks so handsome. You smile back at him.

“Yeah, I like it.” You confirm . “You know… I really like you, Jisung. I’m disappointed that I don't remember sleeping with you.”

“Really?” He asks, his big brown eyes full of hope. You nod and move your hand to his shoulder. “I really like you too. I uh, I'd like to make you breakfast and drive you home. And then maybe take you on another date sometime?”

“I’d love that. Both of those things.”

After you agree to another date, Jisung makes you breakfast and laughs with you before driving you home, as promised. You kiss him before getting out of his car, making another joke about being disappointed that you don’t remember kissing him last night. He agrees and waits outside your apartment building until you enter the building and disappear. He almost slipped up by not asking you your address and just driving there, but he remembered just in time to feign innocence and ask you where he was supposed to be going.

He’s glad you agreed to another date. He’s over the moon actually. You told him you were busy for a week or two and wouldn’t be able to see him until then. He assured you it was fine, but little did you know he would be seeing you in between then and now. He’s always watching, always listening. But he’s just keeping his angel safe. And he’s doing a damn good job at it.

[traffys-heart]

hii!!! i’m literally obsessed w how u write so if it’s ok can u write smth abt op men and fingering?

one piece men + fingering | nsfw

i will probably start a masterlist soon, considering how many works i have cluttered my blog w. please bare w me until then, thank u (っ- ‸ - ς)

characters: monkey d. luffy, roronoa zoro, vinesmoke sanji, portgas d. ace, sabo, eustass kid, killer, trafalgar d. law

cw: lowercase, afab! reader, fingering, female receiving oral, public sex, virign! loser! law

monkey d. luffy

luffy considers fingering and eating ur pussy as a package deal. as far as he's concerned, hes only curling his knuckles and pressing up into that soft gooey spot inside of u so he can stuff his face in ur cunt right after and enjoy the meal u've left him. ever since he found out he just needs to fuck ur little slit w his digits to speed up ur orgasms he's been using the 'trick' thereafter. oh and of course like the glutton he is, he always makes sure to lick up ur webs that coat his hand after.

roronoa zoro

zoro needs to calm down and recollect himself before he gets his hands on ur tight ass cause he'll probably end up making a mess. this guy wants u bent over his weights bench and spreading ur pretty lips for him. he can't wait to stretch u and feel how u squeeze him as his fingers scissor ur walls, trying to expand ur cunt for his cock. zoro tries to go as slow as possible, but ends up loosing control and rapidly fucking u on his hand.

vinesmoke sanji

idk why but i'm plagued w the vision of sanji's face slowly rising from the side of bed w his signature perverted blown out expression ready to get down and dirty. imagine ur on ur bed, legs spred, panties discarded, and ur trying so hard to get off, but u just need sanji to finger u to completion. ur rubbing ur clit so fast, but it's his long and slender fingers that tickle ur insides so perfectly that make u cum. ugh he kisses ur stomach through it too.

portgas d. ace

ace would take u in the middle of a bar if he could. unfortunately u would never let that happen, so he has to settle for walking his heated fingertips up and under the hem of ur skirt, kissing promises of reassurance into ur ear while u make eye contact w whoever new just entered. his sneaky fingers slip past ur undergarments and rub ur wet slit that's been begging for attention ever since u left the ship. slow and deep thrusts cause u to almost loose balance while u cling to ur sly boyfriend and his sticky hands.

sabo

the high of completing a mission or liberating another island has always filled u w a sense of pride, on the other hand its always made sabo needy to fill u. the foreign texture of leather massaging the inside of ur pussy makes u want to crawl away and beg for more simultaneously. the gloved fingers fucking ur mouth keep u from escaping him tho. with a soft smack to ur wet cunt, sabo loosens his cravat and thinks abt how much better u would feel stuffed w his cock.

eustass kid

kid is so mean, sometimes he makes u ride his own fingers. so u could be there, bouncing away to ur hearts content, but he won't do a thing cause he likes seeing u get off on him. he especially likes seeing u get off on his metal arm. there is nothing more erotic than watching u stretch urself down on one of the the fat metal fingers of his hand. the dichotomy of skin and chrome molding into one almost makes him want to start doing work himself smh.

killer

my beloved beefy boy. if he could he would strip off his mask and have u sit on his face so he can get to know ur pussy up close and personal. yknow ask her questions abt her interests and hobbies. but until that milestone, he opts for fingering u until the point of over stimulation. whereas ur captain sat back and made u do all the work, killer will rub and pinch ur clit as well as thrust his fingers in and out of ur cunt. he wants u cumming all over him until his jeans have a new kind of acid wash.

trafalgar d. law

law has never been this close to pussy before so when u strip off panties for him and open ur legs, inviting the nerd in, his first instinct is to grab his glasses. (yes they fog up) he could spend eternity watching u touch urself, but when u spread ur slit and guide his fingers into ur welcoming hole he doubts he'll ever last long enough to make u cum during actual sex. in the end u never acc orgasm but law adds this to his top 5 memories ever.

[melk-maid]

warnings: everyone is aged up 21+, gn reader, player/farmer reader, fluff, mutual pining, idk what the fuck to tag fluff??? it's just cute and sweet ok!!! synopsis: sebastian was convinced by his mom to come lend a hand on the farm, leading to him being introduced to most of the animals and practising farm life.

note: my first sdv fic!! pls be gentle lmao i fell in love with sweet emo boy so fast and he literally wouldn't leave my mind before i wrote this LMAO sweet little boy just deserves the world aaaaa enjoy~♡ banner portrait is a mod by nongdarn minors & ageless blogs dni - you will be blocked

Stepping out the front door, you inhale the fresh, spring valley air. It's a lovely and warm day, even at six o'clock in the morning; you're awake and ready to take on the day. You expected to be greeted by your cat who tends to get a headstart roaming around the grounds waiting for you, but instead, an emo fringe welcomed you good morning.

"Sebastian?"

He stood up straight after hearing your door open, initially leaning on the fence in front of your house, eyes drooping in the early spring warmth. The click of your door bolted him awake, chewing nervously on his lip ring and offering you a small wave.

"Hey." Sebastian smiles slightly, a signature look whenever you catch him around the mountains or at the saloon.

You quickly grow remorseful and embarrassed at your surprise. Hopefully he isn't offended. "Hey! What's up? I don't think I've ever seen you around this part of town."

With hands shoved deep into his pockets, Sebastian tries to relax his shoulders and play it cool. "Yeah, I came to help around the farm. My mom told me you could use the extra hands."

More accurately, Robin knows about Sebastian's crush on you and had insisted he visit.

You huff a laugh remembering you spoke to Robin yesterday, telling her about your long days on the farm since everyone makes the most orders around this time of year. It was a passing complaint as you put together a produce basket for her to take home, an extra thank you for the new silo she had just finished building.

"That's really sweet of you," You smile and it's brighter than the sun, "I'm happy to let you help me out with my daily chores. Follow me, we can check the chickens first."

Sebastian trails close behind as you traverse through the farm. It's amazing how you've transformed this land in just a few years — even with the help of his mom, it's still admirable just how beautiful and organised the place is.

Egg basket already in hand, you stand outside the wooden door of your coop. "How are you with ducks? I forgot to mention that the ducks live here too."

The way you turned to Sebastian and asked him so sincerely makes his heart melt.

"I'm okay with ducks…I think."

You laugh as you open the door, ushering Sebastian through before anyone can make a great escape. Inside the coop is rather luxurious for some chickens and ducks. There's bales of hay stored on shelves above and below the chicken beds, curtains drawn in some of the makeshift cubicles for the birds to get some privacy, an automatic feeder sitting in the corner that's filled to the brim with seeds.

Chickens cluck at their guests, the odd honk or two overshadowing the consistent tune as some of the feathery residents stomp their way over to investigate.

"Good morning," You greet the animals with a cheer, stepping further inside and expertly avoiding the wandering birds.

Sebastian isn't anxious but he is definitely out of his element. The smell he expected but experiencing it is different. A chicken pecks at his boots, interrogating him on his intentions in their home. He daren’t move lest he upset anyone, preferring to avoid any kind of catastrophe or coup. After a moment, you realise Sebastian hadn't moved from the door, laughing at his stoic frame watching his shoe be pecked at.

"You can move, they won't bite, promise." Sebastian feels his face flush when you call out to him, chuckling awkwardly and carefully lifting his leg away from the chicken. "That's Brenda, don't worry she's just nosy when there's guests. The others won't bother you."

He's careful to join you, ensuring he doesn't step on any other wandering residents, both those who are nosy about his presence and others completely unphased. You giggle hearing his faint gasp after he sees who you're tending to. A big, round ball of glossy, black feathers sits inside one of the small cubicles, red eyes peering into Sebastian's soul.

"This is Satan." You introduce them to Sebastian. "Satan, this is Seb. I think he likes you."

There was an almost embarrassed grunt from the man beside you. He didn't think he was that obvious or predictable, but it would be a lie to say he wasn't infatuated with the dark chicken. Feathers shine in the low morning lights that peer through the windows, a gorgeous blend of purples and reds can be seen as you pet Satan.

"You can pet her if you're feeling brave, might keep her distracted while I see if she's left a present for us."

Sebastian isn't new to animals, his dad had a dog when he was a kid, however it seems that farm animals are a whole new experience. Not wanting to chicken out and eager to impress, Sebastian reaches in and gently pets the body of Satan with the back of his hand. The bird stares at him, as though she knows he's nervous. Dark eyes stare back at her. Maybe there's a connection there; loners who would rather hide behind curtains than mingle with the crowd, weird and different to everyone else, misunderstood—

"Oh look, Satan did leave us a present!"

You hold up a strange, yet gorgeous egg. Onyx with large crimson spots. It shares similarities to the chicken it came from and Sebastian can't hide his interest this time.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

"Yeah…" He breathes out but you don't notice he's looking at you when he responds. "It's one of a kind."

Your snort pulls Sebastian out of his trance. "I've had a few of these so I wouldn't say one of a kind, but they're rare for sure. No one ever wants to buy them so whenever I have any, I make myself a jar of mayonnaise with them — it turns out black instead of pale yellow" He chuckles at the thought. "Do you want to keep it?"

"Keep it?" Sebastian blinks and you laugh.

"Yeah, consider it a gift!" The egg is carefully laid in the egg basket hooked in the crook of your arm, pulled out and passed to Sebastian. "It can stay in there for now just so nothing happens but after we're done I'll give it a once over and you can take it home with you."

A gift…he doesn't know what to say. It feels a little more serious and sentimental than you're treating it. While he's flattered and excited over the idea, you're brushing off the action with grace. Still, Sebastian leans into the way his heart flutters with fondness, thanking you after clearing his throat.

In the coop you introduce the rest of the gang, though if Sam or Abby were to ask him any of their names, Sebastian would have a hard time remembering anyone besides Satan — for obvious reasons. He nodded along anyway and enjoyed helping you collect more of the eggs that had been laid. There were tons and he even learnt that ducks lay eggs too, of which are a big hit in the town.

With an egg basket full of produce, you and Sebastian leave them in a safe space before heading towards the cow barn. Much like the coop, a slough of noises greet the pair of you when the door is opened. Cows are much louder than he expected, especially when they're harmonising with one another, though you don't seem to flinch like he did. Thankfully you didn't notice — or at least didn't mention it — along with the dusting of pink across his cheeks. You're the city kid and yet you've adapted so well to the valley life. He has spent most of his life here and still isn't accustomed to a farm specifically.

"Good morning everyone!"

A chorus of moo's grow louder as the cows respond, returning the good morning sentiment.

It's admirable just how much the animals on the farm seem to love you. Never for a second did he think you'd abuse them or treat them poorly, but it's clear already that you genuinely care for them much more than produce machines. There's love and dedication and bonds that you've built with each animal. Sebastian only feels a smidge of jealousy that they have your love and not him.

This time the animals were held back behind locked fences so Sebastian wasn't immediately swarmed like the chickens. That didn't mean that the cows weren't intrigued by his presence, though. They're bigger than he ever thought and he's quick to realise the chickens and ducks were nothing in comparison — he could pick them up with both hands, carry them around or step around them where necessary, their beaks pinching at his skin if it weren't for the extremely skinny jeans he wore.

The cows? Most of them matched him in height.

"Are you okay?" You ask Sebastian while grabbing a milk pail, a smile playing on your lips as you try to remain serious and sincere. Clearly his anxiety was showing again.

"I'm okay," He nods and it's not entirely a lie, "They're bigger than I thought."

Your laugh is enough to ease the tightness in his chest, replacing the feeling with tiny sparks. "They're just as harmless as the chickens, if not friendlier! The girls here are lovely."

While he tries to take in your words of comfort, Sebastian can't help but feel like all the cows in here are well acquainted with his meat consumption habits. Black eyes staring holes into him, the cows press themselves up against the barriers and hang their heads over the railing, probably eager to take a bite out of him to see how he likes it. The chickens were judgemental but it was because he was in their space, an intruder in their home, someone who needs to be analysed and assessed for if he belongs. The cows know exactly who Sebastian is along with any and all bad things he's done in his life.

Working on the farm might make him a vegetarian.

Following you towards the first pen, albeit slowly, Sebastian hovers behind you and watches as you pet the cows cheek. "Sebastian, this is Leelah, Leelah this is Sebastian."

"Hi." Is all that's offered to her with a short wave. His hand is quickly stuffed back into his pocket, watching as Leelah judges him.

You laugh at his curt greeting but don't push him. Instead, you slide into her pen and lay down fresh bedding and refill her food bucket. Sebastian watches on the other side, enjoying the view — in the least creepy way he possibly can. Leelah watches him rather than focusing on what you're doing. If he didn't know any better, Sebastian would believe she knew what he was thinking.

Much like the chickens, you move between the other cows, introducing Sebastian to them by name and giving them all extra love and attention. You wanted him to become comfortable around them, to be brave and confident, to give at least one of them a single pet. The more cows he's introduced to, the more relaxed he seems to become. Glancing at him over your shoulder while you pet the cows and tend to their pens, you watch the way his shoulders seem to slowly drop, becoming more comfortable around the gentle giants.

"This lovely little lady is Dolly."

She isn't a black and red cow, nor can she lay any eggs of a similar colour, but she is the sweetest cow on the farm. Sebastian had inched closer to the pens with each cow, standing next to you as you pet an enthusiastic Dolly. It seems like she'd been waiting for her turn, excited over the new guest as she reaches her snout towards Sebastian. He's caught off guard but it doesn't deter him.

"Dolly is the friendliest of everyone here, she's such a sweetheart, aren't you?" You explain while scratching each side of Dolly's cheeks, something she seems to love as she leans into your touch with her snout pointed upwards.

After you had done and was ready to slide into her pen, you catch Sebastian reaching out. He copies your motion, curling his fingers to scratch at Dolly's cheek. It's a strange sensation as her fur is rough to the touch but smooth under his hand. You watch as he smiles — a genuine, wide smile — while Dolly enjoys the attention. It's cute, you think.

When her tongue slips out to swipe over his hand, Sebastian pulls away instinctually, grimacing at the saliva coating him. You can't help but laugh and there's a bubble of laughter in his throat too.

"That's so sweet Dolly, you trying to kiss Seb? You must like him, huh?" She tries to reach out again, tongue lapping in an attempt to show him more affection. "You good?"

Sebastian takes the rag you offered that typically hangs out of your pants, chuckling as he wipes away the generous kiss Dolly gave him. "Yeah, it just caught me off guard. She really is friendly."

You giggle and take back the rag, unlocking her pen door and asking, "Want to try milking? Today is her day."

Instinctually he was going to say no. Still a little nervous around the animals and fearful of doing something wrong, but he trusts that you wouldn't offer him to try if it were so difficult. Sebastian nods and hums, following you inside the pen and laughing off Dolly's excitement when he steps inside.

You settle the cow and ready her for milking, testing that she was going to produce something before letting Sebastian try. He follows your instructions carefully, watching the way your hand grips one of the udders and how you squeeze.

When it was his turn grabbing the udder, he visibly grimaces and flinches. You can't help but laugh because you were the same not that long ago.

"Weird isn't it? Doesn't feel like a nipple you're used to."

Sebastian's ears burn, along with the entirety of his face. Thank god he's crouched down and hiding beneath this cow so you can't see. With a couple of extra instructions and your hand on top of his, Sebastian was milking Dolly like a professional. He was proud of himself, even if it wasn't much milk. It's labour intensive and his body just isn't used to that kind of movement.

The pigs and sheep were a little easier to deal with — partially because Sebastian stayed behind the fences. You let them roam free for a couple of hours in the early sun, though it was mostly because it's easier to refill their feed when they're outside and distracted. The sheep were entirely uninterested in his presence while some of the pigs came trotting over immediately, sniffing and huffing little 'oinks' at him. When you come out of the pig barn covered in mud and hay, Sebastian is glad he made the right choice to stay outside.

"I'm fucking hungry." You groan. "All these years and taking care of the animals still takes it out of me sometimes."

Sebastian was carrying the pale of milk while you had the eggs, heading back towards your home to organise the morning's spoils. You hadn't even started on the crops today and you know the radishes you planted are going to be ready for plucking.

"It's hard work, I'm not sure if I would ever be able to do it."

You laugh and Sebastian's stomach flips. "I didn't think I could either when I first got here." There's a wistful sigh that fills the still air between you. "Thanks for helping me out this morning."

There wasn't actually much he did to help. Sebastian was introduced to most of the animals, given a void egg, interrogated by various animals and milked a cow for a few minutes. If anything, he was pleasant company for your mundane morning.

"No problem. It was fun."

"Yeah?" You beam at him and Sebastian turns away to hide his smile. "Well, you're always welcome here if you ever want to get away. I know you don't like to socialise too much, so you can go back home and I'll handle the crops after lunch."

The pair of you had stopped by your porch, smiling up at Sebastian with a hand shielding your eyes from the sun. He huffed a laugh, short and awkward, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket.

"You don't count." He admits. "I like hanging out with you."

Your smile widens and this time it was your turn to feel your stomach flipping and sparks of fireworks setting off in your chest. It feels childish to giggle but you were flattered.

"If that's the case why don't I make you lunch? I have tons of produce from the past couple of days that needs eating."

Sebastian nods and hums. "Sure, I'd like that." 

[0wlettie]

⏾⋆.˚─── rafayel x fem!reader

⏾⋆.˚─── synopsis: rafayel just sees you as a good friend, and even though you want more than that, you're perfectly content staying by his side in whatever way he wants you. but when you go out drinking with a few friends and he decides to crash the party, you discover that your original assumption might be a little off…

⏾⋆.˚─── tags: 20.9k, light angst, pining, pining, PINING, pet names (cutie, beautiful, pretty girl), possessiveness, really leaning into the eldritch/monster merman vibe w/rafayel here, light alcohol consumption (reader gets a little tipsy but it's nothing crazy), frottage, coming in pants, fingerfucking, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, dirty talk (but in a needy sorta way), under-negotiated kink, unprotected sex, mating press, biting

⏾⋆.˚─── ao3 if you prefer ^^

⏾⋆.˚─── a/n: hello ~ hello ~ i'm back again with ANOTHER monster length fic. i'd just recently unlocked the bond lvl 55 with him, and inspiration just smacked me in the face and i immediately started working on this baby. beta'd by me so any mistakes are mine entirely; title comes from Bambi by BAEKHYUN because not only is the song good, but idk baekhyun just gives off raf vibes to me and it kinda fit so why not? this is nsfw so Minors Do Not Interact (ageless blogs who follow will be blocked)

You’re in the middle of shopping on your day off when you get a phone call.

You work as an assistant. It’s mostly a freelance job, as you often take on multiple clients a year rather than just stick to one. It also helps that you have as many connections as you do, so you’re in a fortunate position where you have a choice in who you decide to take up on offers. Months earlier a friend of yours from college, Estella, offered you a position to work with Rafayel Qi—a notoriously reclusive and aloof painter. Her fiancé worked closely with him, and seeing as how they were scheduled to go on a trip together soon, someone needed to be there to fill in for Thomas.

Curious, and always willing to help out a friend, you agreed.

It was a relatively normal time for you, all things considered. Rafayel was surprisingly easy to work with, something you weren’t exactly expecting based on all of the rumors surrounding his personality. You were also well versed in working with eccentric kinds of people, so maybe you were unconsciously gearing up for more of that. Instead, you got a pleasantly easy experience. Sure, it was a bit awkward and a little stilted because woah, you weren’t exactly ready for the inhuman beauty awaiting you in that bright and clear studio room. And yeah, you were having a bit of a hard time focusing on Thomas’s introductions when Rafayel kept staring at you like that—something strangely intense in those pretty sunset-hues of his. 

Like he was trying to peel back all of your layers with his eyes alone.

All that intensity vanished, however, as soon as you started working for him. You thought you saw glimpses of that emotion when you caught Rafayel staring at you a little too long, but it always flickered away before you could really be sure. Thankfully, there really wasn’t much you had to do besides answer a few emails on Thomas’s behalf and cater to whatever little whim Rafayel felt like indulging on that day—whether that meant visiting a faraway town for ‘inspiration’ or spending a day inside, helping him sort out the various boxes of junk he bought online in a shopping frenzy. It was nice, you can admit, getting to know your client.

Bratty and with a smart mouth that often makes you bust a gut laughing at the sheer audacity of his retorts. Needy for your time and attention—childishly so, calling you over no matter the hour for help in solving the easiest of problems. But there was a sweetness to him. A gentle sort of kindness that he showed when he noticed things about you. When he bought you cute little trinkets or went out of his way to send you good morning or goodnight texts; things that he knows cheers you up working as hard as you do.

Even as the original three weeks you planned to be employed morphed into five, due to the young couple encountering a freak storm that left their pleasure cruise stranded on an island while the cruise line company sent another to rescue them and the others on the trip. Even as Thomas and Estella made it safely back and you were free to take on other clients. Rafayel stayed in contact, and clearly you two had built up a bond, evident by the various phone calls and texts filling up your previous empty and dry inbox. But meeting up in person was difficult compared to before. Conflicting schedules kept you both missing each other by a hair—either you were too booked by the multiple clients you had, or Rafayel too busy with deadlines and art galleries demanding his presence. 

It was draining, to think about. Silly, really. You were an adult with an adult life—of course you would sometimes go long stretches of time without being able to see others, even those you consider good friends. But once you absently checked the date and noticed it’d been over nine months since you’ve seen his pretty smile without the barrier of a phone screen, a deep seated weariness weighed heavily on your chest. Dramatic of you to feel so unsettled by someone you’ve only just met, but you feel as if you’ve known Rafayel for a lifetime. Like some part of you recognized him from a past life of yours, and it’s now missing, held within the palms of his elegantly beautiful hands. It’s not something you’ve ever felt for a friend before, and no matter how many times you try to convince yourself that you do only see him as a friend, nothing seems to stick.

It makes you scoff thinking about it. Whether or not you considered yourself friends wasn’t important—all that mattered was Rafayel’s view, and clearly he sees you as friends. You sure as hell chatted like them, and while you slightly resented the platonic undertones to your conversations, you still cherished the fact that you both talk everyday if either of you could help it. 

Just a few hours ago you both were on the phone and you listened while he ranted about the piece he was making for an upcoming client of his. All the art speak flew over your head a bit, but from what you could gather, it had something to do with who the commission was for rather than the commission itself. An older gentleman who royally pissed Rafayel off with his attitude and demands. Just remembering the angry rapid-fire insults has you cracking a smile—he was positively ruthless when talking about his client.

The thought momentarily lifts your spirits, but no matter how hard you try to deny how you feel, it doesn’t make the ache go away. Phone calls and texts aren’t enough for you; you feel almost…greedy, with how desperately you want to see him in person. How you crave to hear the teasing lilt to his voice, to see the embers of something he refuses to name flicker in his eyes, in his expression when he thinks you don’t see. How you want to feel the lingering heat in his fingers when they brush against yours by accident, or when he playfully tugs at your bangs, or any part of your clothes to get your attention. But you can’t. The universe seems hellbent on making sure of that.

So here you are, trying to drown out this lingering sadness by filling your freezer with all sorts of sweet treats. Eating always helps you feel better, even if it doesn’t necessarily help your waistline. And it’s here, while you decide between getting either a pint of brownie batter or a pint chocolate chip cookie dough that you get a phone call. You jolt, nearly dropping both pints in your hands as the familiar ringtone of Estella blares out from your pocket.

‘Fuck it.’ Your cheeks redden when you catch a few bewildered stares thrown your way, and you chuck both pints into your basket before hurriedly fumbling for your phone.

“You couldn’t have texted me, Stella.” You whisper-yell, ducking your head and hurrying into another aisle. You still had to snag a few bags of chips before leaving—that and maybe something fizzy to drink. She laughs, and you realize that she’s gotta at least be a little tipsy to sound that chipper on a dreary Wednesday night. Your suspicions are confirmed when you hear her hiccup a giggle, the sound of another voice faintly echoing through the line before she turns her attention back to you.

“[✦]! Are you free say....this Saturday?” You blink, mentally tracking your week. For once in a long time, you’re free from any of your clients, at least until the end of the month. You were intending to surprise Rafayel with a visit, but he told you that he had some kind of exhibit to attend, so you were just going to spend the night by yourself. Pitifully watching another drama you had lined up while you gorged on ice cream and take-out.

“I should be…why’re you asking?” You reach out and grab a few bags of chips, eyeing the stack of cookies next to them before shaking your head and heading off to the front to checkout. You already had plenty of sweets in your basket, and it was already bad enough that you were getting two pints instead of one. ‘At least I got the water in my basket.’ You soothe yourself, ignoring the other unhealthy snacks sitting next to the giant bottle of water nestled at the bottom as you toss the chips on top. 

“It’s been forever since I saw you! Me and Thomas were thinkin’ about going out. I was thinking of inviting a few friends from college since it's been forever since we last saw each other. You should totally come!” You wince at her volume, giving a polite smile to the lady checking you out before dumping all of your items onto the conveyor belt.

“Ah, I don’t know…I’m not really the ‘going out’ type, you know…” You nervously chew on your bottom lip, paying for your food and quickly escaping the slightly judgmental look on your cashier’s face as you balance your phone in one hand and the heavy bags in your other. You didn’t care at all for the way she was eyeing your bags, but that feeling soon vanishes when Estella whines in your ear—effectively distracting you from the embarrassment.

“Don’t be like that, I promise it’s just to get a few drinks, that’s all! Nothin’ super clubby or anything like that!” You feel yourself begin to waver. You’ve never been one to really say no to your friends, or really anyone coming to you for help like this. It’s why you’ve kept people out, and it’s also why you think you attract the people you do. Whiny, pushy and all around bossy folks who have no trouble bullying you into doing what they want or think is best for you. Not that you’re complaining necessarily, you’ve been given the gift of having such a caring friend like Estella and now Rafayel too. Bratty as they are, they’re also extremely loyal and will go to bat for you without question.

So really, what’s going out for a few hours of drinks in exchange?

As if sensing your hesitation, she pushes just a little harder.

“C’mon, I swear on my dead granny that you’ll have an amazing time! It’ll just be me ‘n’ Thomas and prolly a few of us from the old study group—Jessica and Randy, maybe even Lyrica if she’s got the time too. Ooh, and Jazzy will totally wanna come, it’s been ages since he’s met us!” 

You make a face at the name ‘Randy’, and it almost convinces you to bail out right then and there. However, you can already see the stupidly effective puppy dog eyes Estella is giving you through the phone, and the long suffering groan you let out underneath your breath is more telling than you’d like to admit. Something that Estella hears through the phone because she squeals and smacks her hand into a…table maybe? Whatever it is, it hurts her enough for her to hiss out a few swears so fierce that it makes you snort.

“Fuck, stupid fucking table…attacking me like that…”

“More like you attacked the table, sweetheart.” You hear Thomas’s voice get closer to the phone, and Estella’s voice goes all gooey and soft. 

“But babycakes, it was the table’s fault that my hand hurts now. Who cares if I gave it a little love tap, make it apologize to me for being mean!” Thomas laughs and you smile when you hear him, momentarily choosing to ignore the slight discomfort of her inviting…Randy. Your chest warms from their obvious love as they mutter sweet nonsense to each other too low for you to understand, but jealousy follows quicker than you expect, turning the whole interaction into something sour in your mouth. You want what she has desperately; a little too desperately, if you’re feeling like this over barely there PDA. ‘Get a grip, girl. Jeez.’ You huff, exasperated with yourself, and do your best to swallow back all of the ugly, nasty feelings threatening to spill from your mouth.

“Just text me the details and I’ll see if I can work something out, yeah? I’ll leave you two alone for now.” You plaster a smile onto your face, thankful when your voice comes out steady and normal. Estella cheers, but it's faint sounding and Thomas answers before you can ask.

“Sorry about this—you know how she gets when she gets her hands on a bottle of Rosé. I’ll make sure that she gives you the time and place before then.” 

“Ah, that makes sense. She could never resist a glass of that when she’s off work.” You chuckle as a thought pops into your mind. You ask before you can chicken out.

“Rafayel’s not coming, is he?” 

“Ah, I thought he would’ve told you about that art exhibit? I’m not even blackmailing him to go to this one, surprisingly—he chose to go himself!” 

You deflate, cursing yourself in your mind. Of fucking course he wouldn’t go, you knew he wasn’t going to he already told you about it! ‘Stupid.’ Your cheeks flush from the embarrassment and you quickly breeze past your utter failure with as much nonchalance you can muster. 

“Y-yeah. It slipped my mind, sorry.” Thomas hums, a little unconvincingly, but his attention is clearly drawn away by the loud call of his name just barely out of range from the phone.

“I’ve gotta go, but we’ll see you Saturday?”

“Yeah, have a goodnight you two!” The call disconnects moments after, and you’re left with an oily sort of feeling squirming in your gut. You hate being so sour over your friend and her beautiful relationship, but you can’t help it. Not when you want so badly to have that kind of love yourself. When it feels like your whole life you’ve craved that kind of love. Distant from the world around you, you never connect to people easily—even now, when all you do is interact with people on a daily basis. Your parents feel a bit alienated too, evident by the sparse calls you share all these years later. Estella was the first person in a long time that you formed a strong relationship with, and you were content with that. At least, you were before you met Rafayel.

Now all you can think about is him. 

His voice and the musical cadence of it, gentle and sweet and everything that makes your brain go fuzzy and warm, willing to do whatever he asks if he just keeps talking to you like that. His gorgeous eyes and how they sparkle underneath the sun’s rays like a kaleidoscope of blue and pink, mixing together in an almost hypnotizing way, leaving you breathless and flushed whenever you meet them. The constellation of moles you can spot when he’s close to you on his nose, underneath his eye, on his cheek—even the one you noticed on his chest one afternoon after he decided to let his white button up dangle open scandalously. The thin, long delicate shape of his fingers when he holds a paint brush; the prominent and strong lines of the tendons you can see when he handles his phone, his sketchbook, a glass or anything round or big enough to make them flex. Everything about him drives you crazy, and it takes all of your self control not to throw yourself at him whenever he gives you his full attention. You think you’d feel even worse if you could, but he’s like an addiction to you. As much as it hurts to be on the receiving end of his focus in a purely platonic way, you’ll also take any scrap he gives—happily.

You blow out a sigh.

Pathetic you may be, you still would rather have Rafayel in your life than out of it. Which means that you need to get a handle on that little green monster rolling around in your belly—and quickly since the little get-together is only a handful of days away. You’re a grown ass woman, you can totally handle your emotions and keep them to yourself. Even if you’ll be surrounded by couples, as you know for a fact that Jessica and Lyrica have partners. Randy and Jasper, aka Jazzy, you have no clue about though. Which, if they don’t then you won’t be the only one feeling like an outcast in a sea of couples.

“Yeah, this totally won’t blow up in my face at all.” You mutter to yourself, hurrying up the stairs to your apartment complex. You can only hope that, for once, the universe works in your favor here.

It’s Saturday, and you find yourself stuck between two options laying flat out on your bed.

On the one hand, you could go with this dress you’ve had for forever—your go to dress when going out somewhere nice. It’s a midi halter dress with a low v-neck that shows off a decent amount of your cleavage. Colored a warm coffee brown and with the edges flared out, it’s cute and it works well on your figure. Even with the extra weight you’ve put on, you know it’ll compliment you still. 

However…

Your eyes slide over to the left. The dress sitting there is a new purchase of yours, one you got a while back when you and Estella were out shopping one day. You’ve never worn it before and feeling a little bold, you want to try it out now. It’s a gorgeous shade of deep burgundy and strapless. Midi in length and made out of a comfortable stretchy fabric, it would hug you closely; and with two daring slits up the side, ruffles lining the open edges, it carries a different vibe than your other dress. You have no idea what to choose! With your hair—tied up in twintails and braided—and makeup—a layered glittery plum-red toned eyeshadow look combined with thick eyeliner and a matching plum-red lip—done, all you have to do now is just pick one but you can’t. 

“Ugh, this shouldn’t be this difficult, I mean, it’s only gonna be a few friends—”

A loud ‘ping’ interrupts your rant and a lightbulb goes off over your head. Of course! Why not just get Rafayel to choose for you? He’s an artist—he’s got an eye for these kinds of things. You hurry over to snatch your phone from your vanity. You and Rafayel were just playing phone games at the moment, so you know that he can’t be doing something super important. There’s still a few hours before he has to make it to the exhibit, anyway. And, since you were currently losing this round of pool, you weren’t exactly chomping at the bit to get back to it.

fishie princess ♓

hey you mind helping me real quick ?

how suspicious that you need my help now that you’re losing terribly to me

how very suspicious…(¬‿¬ )

raaaaaaaaf 

stop it im serious

(╥﹏╥)(╥﹏╥)(╥﹏╥)

fine fine

what’s up?

image sent

image sent

what do you think is better on me ?

if i’m say, going out for drinks ?

oooh both are pretty

going out for drinks? hmmm

the first one is fine, but the second one is the prettiest between the two

the burgundy will emphasize the color of your skin, as well as bring out the darkness of your eyes more

depending on how you do your makeup, it’ll do great with attracting all sorts of attention

Your cheeks flush and your tummy goes warm at the thought of his voice saying all of that. Second dress it is, then. Happy and floating high off the indirect praise just given to you, you’re about to type back a quick ‘thank you’ when dots appear on your screen. You pause, and watch as they disappear and reappear again for a few moments before a text comes through.

fishie princess ♓

what’s the occasion though?

i dun remember you mentioning a party or anything

oh thomas didn’t tell you ?

tell me what

uhh

about how he and stella are gonna go out for drinks tonight ?

with some of our old college buddies

she invited me a few days ago

i guess since you were busy tonight they didn’t bother…

and you’re going out in that dress?

yea ?

hm

okay

one sec （＾ｖ＾）

You blink at the screen. That little smile feels…ominous, somehow. But you cannot for the life of you figure out why. Is he upset that he wasn’t invited? Maybe, but, if he was busy, then why would Thomas even bother mentioning it to him? Or maybe he’s mad at you for not telling him until now? Well…honestly, you didn’t forget about it, it just kind of fell to the wayside a bit when the end of the week rush happened and you had to get the last of your clerical work in before going on break.

Before you can wonder more, however, your phone jumps with another sharp ‘ping’.

fishie princess ♓

hey so what’s the address for that place you’re goin to?

and what time

umm okay the address is

[link sent]

and we’re supposed to be meeting there at eight

why ???

well when someone asks you the address and time of an event

one would think they’d be going to that event, right? 

The text sends your gut swooping in a mix of delight and trepidation. What—but the exhibit? Did he just cancel on something he’s been talking about for the past couple days at the drop of a hat?! Even Thomas was surprised by how enthusiastic Rafayel was, so why…?

fishie princess ♓

but your exhibit ???

don’t tell me you just CANCELLED

rafayel you’ve been so excited for it

so why did you just call it off ??

there will be other exhibits like that one trust

that particular lady does all sorts of pop ups around the country

but i haven’t seen you in months, [✦]

you think i won’t show up for that?

i miss you

you have to know that i do

you miss me too, right?

His surprising candor stops your breath for a moment. You…you know that. You know he misses you just as much as you miss him, but to see it so plain to see in black and white, well. What else could you do in the face of that? Sighing, defeated but still so very excited at the prospect of seeing him again in person—of being able to hug him and hear the bright, sharp bark of his laughter in your ears, you find that you’re incapable of being too upset. If you even were to begin with, when it became clear to you that he was planning on joining your group for drinks.

fishie princess ♓

yea of course i miss you

and even tho its hella RUDE of you to cancel so close to the time

im still glad i get to see you tonight

but that means you have to show me what you’re wearing !!

nuh uh

since you wanted to sneak behind my back with thomas and stella

im afraid you’ll have to wait until eight tonight before you see

it wasn’t on purpose

no wait don’t be mean lemme seeeeeee

(╥﹏╥)(╥﹏╥)(╥﹏╥)

nope.

gasp

not the period

noooo it’s not fair

rafaaayeeel !!!

life is never fair

now suffer

≧◠◡◠≦✌

You groan as you toss your phone back onto your vanity, but the wide smile pulling at the corners of your mouth gives away how thrilled you are. Your heart races as you scoop up the dress from your bed, and you give your makeup and hair one last lookover in the mirror before wiggling your way into the dress. You know that, despite being secretly jealous over the various couples surrounding you, Rafayel will make a perfect distraction. He makes you laugh, and even though you’re stupidly and deeply in love with him and it drives you just a little more insane as each day passes, he makes the world just a bit brighter for you regardless.

Even if he is an utter brat.

Nervously, you check yourself out again in the wide glass window in front of you. You decided to go with a darker lip color to better match your dress, as well as apply a liberal amount of dress tape to keep the damn thing from falling off. You’ve got a…bigger bust than some girls, so the tape was necessary since you really couldn’t wear a bra and be cute with a strapless dress. You’re just thankful that the area surrounding the top of the dress was thick enough to hide your nipples and the piercings you’ve got.

‘Never lose a bet with Stella when you’re drunk.’ You think a little wryly, taking in a deep breath before glancing at the time on your phone. 8:05. While it was a few minutes past the agreed upon time, you knew that not everyone showed up yet. Estella and Thomas are already inside, as well as Lyrica and her boyfriend. Jessica and her girlfriend were stuck in traffic, and Randy was on his way too. Jazzy couldn't make it because of a family emergency, so the only person you’re missing is…

Rafayel.

Your entire body lights up; your heart thumping harshly and your face getting so hot that you feel as if you’re about to pass out. Your cold hands come up to cup your cheeks, and you duck your wide-eyed face away from the glass window to stare down at your strappy black heels, the purse dangling from the crook of your arm gently swaying in the corner of your vision. The night air is cool against your burning skin, but even that doesn’t feel like enough to calm you down as Rafayel floods to the front of your mind again.

It was easy, on your way to the cozy but warm atmosphere of the little bar Estella picked out, to focus on touching up your make up and double checking with Thomas on the correct address for the cab you called. Easy to train your attention on climbing up the long stone staircase leading into the city plaza, amazed by the various lights and flashing signs of DownTown Linkon City nightlife you’ve never really experienced before. Easy to take your time in strolling down the clean and bright marble lining the sidewalk, shyly ignoring the few catcalls you got and pulling your cropped black bomber jacket closer to shield your body and purse.

But now, all your mind can think about is what the hell Rafayel plans to wear?!

Look, you’ve seen that man’s wardrobe. It was a bit of a necessity working as his assistant to cart him off to galleries and his exhibits. You had to make him look presentable to his fans and potential clientele! And, once you became closer, he would often show off the new pieces he added to his ever-growing collection of clothes; whether they be designer so expensive that the amount of zeroes made you want to vomit, or a thrift so cheap that it was basically given away for free. No matter the price though, whatever he got was absolutely stunning on him. 

You’re basically royally fucked because whatever the hell he shows up in, you just know that you’re gonna lose it. Especially being that close after all this time away from him. Just imagining him now sends a little thrill up your spine, even as your gut rolls with a strange mix of anxiety and excitement. You blow out a harsh breath, lightly slapping your cheeks before straightening up. Well, best to confront him before you go inside. Then, at least, you can try and get your bearings before you get around other people. That’s if you manage to catch him before the others.

You grimace.

‘Especially before Randy shows up…’ Mean of you to think when he was a close friend of yours during college, but that’s just the problem. He was a super close friend; one you’d been trying your damndest to avoid like the fucking plague. You weren’t mad at Estella for inviting him, it was your fault that she never knew things got physical between you two the last year and a half of college. In fact, you made it a point to hide it from her because you knew she would just give you that look if she found out. Not because Randy was a bad guy, per se. More like…he was a bad match for you.

It was supposed to be a purely casual, no strings attached kinda deal. But Randy was always a little too emotional for that. A little too clingy, but not in an endearing way at all. Clingy in a way that crossed your boundaries in massively inappropriate ways—and coming from a guy who you made abundantly clear to that you were never going to want him in a serious manner. Suffice to say, the whole silent ordeal left a bad taste in your mouth, and you quickly cut contact after graduating. Hopefully, you’re able to slip inside and set yourself up between Estella and Rafayel to block him from ever interacting with you more than he has too.

But it seems the universe doesn’t care to listen to your feeble wish, as not even a full minute later, a voice calls out to you with way too much enthusiasm.

“[✦]!”

Thankfully, your back is facing Randy, so he doesn’t get to see the utter disgust and defeat on your face as you stare off into the distance. You idly wonder just what the fuck you did to piss the universe off so much as you readjust your sagging purse. Signing deeply and finding that inner sense of calm that’s almost nonexistent with all of the anxiety and anticipation rolling away at your nerves, you spin around with your practiced and utterly fake ‘I’m-bullshitting’ smile.

“Randy! It’s been a while.” Your voice is level as you greet him, trying hard not to allow your displeasure to show when the taller man shoots you a smile and opens his arms wide for a hug. Gritting your teeth you politely return his hug. His arms snap around you and he gives you a hearty squeeze that makes you want to instantly recoil out of his embrace.

“It sure has! And you look beautiful dressed up like that, by the way.” You gently pat his arm, but when he still doesn’t break away, you take a step back and get as far as you politely can.

“Thanks, you look great too.” And while Randy isn’t an unattractive guy—six feet even with a large build and a neatly trimmed beard and moustache, bright eyes and an even brighter smile—he’s just not your type. He never has been and he never will be. If only he could understand that fact, because even now after all these years later, his gaze still rakes over you with a kindling heat brewing in his cobalt blue irises. Your smile threatens to fall when he bridges that gap between you two, and it takes all of your willpower not to move back when his hand comes up to lightly rest on the small of your back.

“ I’m assuming Stella and her man are already starting without us. Jessica and Cindy should be here soon enough, too. Why don’t we head inside, then, instead of standing out in the cold?” 

‘There’s barely a breeze right now.’ You can’t help but think snarkily. With the summer heat at an all time high, the cooler nights are a refreshing taste to your palette. That, and you want to wait for Rafayel to show before you head inside. Honestly, you kind of want to see the look on Thomas’s face when he realizes Rafayel ditched another gallery date to attend one of his gatherings. 

“Actually—”

“Before you do that—,” You breath hitches, and you eagerly turn towards that wonderfully familiar voice, “She’s gotta give me something first. Isn’t that right, cutie?” 

“Rafayel!” The visible excitement in your voice surprises Randy, and he recoils away from you when the man—Rafayel—glances at him with so much venom that it feels as if he’s been burned from the barely there contact. You, of course, couldn't care less what Randy’s up to, as a bright smile stretches your lips wide enough to reveal your teeth.

Rafayel stands there, just a few paces away, with that smug grin of his that never fails to send your heart racing. The little nickname he tacks on just makes the organ inside of your chest beat even faster. You take in his outfit as your body moves instinctively towards him in a totally silly looking half-shuffle, half-run in your heels, gripping onto your purse for dear life in order not to drop it.

A faded crimson colors the shiny and smooth silk shirt draped over his chest, intricate designs in the shape of what looks to be branches spreading across in wide patterns. Delicate and faintly glimmering jewelry in the shape of ruby red leaves dangle over the wings of his shoulder, strings of delicate gold, pearl and onyx hanging down the sway gently in the breeze. The shirt is tucked into a pair of brown-tan ombre slacks, a wide sash and a belt buckle held snugly against the sinfully tight shape of his waist. Paired with the long strip of black fabric tied around his neck like a choker, the indecent gape of his top and the artfully tousled spikes of his mullet, he looks like he’d be more suited going out to a nightclub rather than a simple bar.

He’s absolutely gorgeous.

You can admit that you do fully stumble in the face of his beauty, and you see that smug grin grow wider when you just barely catch yourself. Embarrassment churns a hearty rhythm within your belly once you finally get within range of him, and though you kind of want to bury yourself in a hole for the rest of your life, you also don’t hesitate to give him an enthusiastic hug. Your chin lightly rests on his chest as your arms wrap around his lower back, and you both stagger a bit from the force of your unexpectedly weak knees.

You have actually worn heels before—it’s just hard to find your footing when Rafayel looks criminally and unfairly pretty in that little outfit of his.

“Wo-ah, take it easy. You know I’m fragile goods. Gotta be gentle there, cutie.” His words ride out on a murmured laugh, the long, wide palms of his hands curling around your shoulders to steady you. The golden lights of the streetlamps scattered about cast a warm glow over his broad shoulders and the planes of his handsome face. The color of his eyes are slightly darker than normal, the length of his lashes long and soft looking as he ducks his head a little to meet your stare directly with a teasing quirk to his brow. You watch mutely as his eyes flick over your face, lingering on the soft line of your mouth before making eye contact again. 

“Sorry–I just…” You bite the inside of your lip, feeling the familiar burn in the corners of your eyes as it finally sets in that he’s here in front of you. The playful tilt to his expression softens, the smile on his face easing into a gentle, fond line.

“You missed me that much, hm?” You nod, blinking rapidly to try and save your makeup. It’s difficult, though, when the tears you push back try even harder to fall. Rafayel chuckles softly seeing your struggle, but with one pleading look, he agrees to help.

“Alright, lemme get it.” From seemingly out of nowhere, Rafayel deftly pulls out a faintly tinted pink handkerchief. You snort at his dramatics, but dutifully allow him to cup your chin and hold you still while he delicately dabs at the corners of your eyes. You’re trying not to stare too hard at him, but it’s useless to deny that you aren’t doing just that. Being this close, everything about him that captivates you is now overwhelming all of your senses. 

The scent of his cologne that surrounds you in an invisible shroud, reminding you of warm sand, the salty brine of the sea and cool moonlit nights. The delicate hold of his fingers as they gently grip your chin, their blazing heat sinking beneath your skin and leaving what feels like an invisible mark. The beautiful sight of him as he’s haloed by the twinkling lights behind him, eyes focused on the sensitive area of your eyes as he wipes the last of your emotional tears. The sound of that warm, musical cadence that’s grown a tad bit lower in your close proximity, softly poking fun at your silly tears. You let him get away with teasing you, however. If only because it makes the little twinkle within his eyes shine brighter than the lights of the city combined. 

“Aaaand there we go. All better now.” He shoots you a wink and does another complicated trick with his fingers, the handkerchief disappearing faster than you can track. His other hand still lingers on your shoulder, even after he straightens up to his full height and ushers you towards the bar doors.

“Show off.” You giggle and lightly push his face away, sniffling a little before looking down and adjusting your coat. He pouts, conveniently placing himself in your direct line of sight once you turn your face up again.

“Is this the thanks I get for saving your makeup from getting all runny? How cruel.” 

You roll your eyes, but the smile on your face gives away the humor you feel. You give in, though, not even a moment later, and you play along.

“My apologies, my wonderful, amazing and generous knight in shining armor. Thank you so much for saving me from a fate worse than death; runny makeup.” The sarcasm within your words is heavy enough for an idiot to catch, but Rafayel ignores the bite and beams at you. 

“You’re welcome, my fair lady. But my services aren’t cheap.” He leans closer to you, and your breath halts to a complete stop when you feel the warmth of his breath puff against your cheek.

“So much for being a knight, charging an innocent maiden like this.” You retort weakly, face growing hotter when Rafayel smirks.

“Lunch, tomorrow afternoon. At whatever place I pick. Your treat, of course, cutie.” You barely even hear the words as they echo in your ears, too entranced by the raspy, intimate tone of his voice as he tilts his head slightly. His eyes carry that same intensity you see from time to time, too many fragments of different emotions buried within for you to parse through. You nod, of course. Anything he asks of you, you’ll give without question—no matter what it is.

“Great.” He suddenly perks up, eyes catching on the side of your head. The hand on your shoulder slides up to lightly tug at one of your braids, trailing the edge of his knuckle down the middle with a thoughtful hum. His fingers brush against the side of your neck by accident, and despite trying, you can’t stop the full body shiver that runs up your spine from the feeling of his fingers against your skin. Again, it’s like some sort of invisible mark stains the skin he touched; the spot somehow growing more sensitive as a gentle breeze blows across it.

“S’cute, by the way. You should do more braided styles like this.”

You blush furiously, averting your eyes as you nod your head once again. It’s like your ability to speak suddenly shriveled up and died, and you’re struck dumb in the face of his overt skinship. Rafayel had been a little closer to you then most. Tugging at your clothes or even snatching things out of your hands wasn’t out of the ordinary. But nicknames? Being this close to your face? Touching you purposefully careless? It’s all so fucking confusing to your poor little overloaded brain.

So in you two go; Rafayel humming quietly to himself, arm now slung over your shoulder as he leads you deeper into the bar while you absently lean into his side, a dazed and flushed look on your face as one of your hands grips the fabric of his shirt.

You don’t notice, in your frazzled state, the chilling glare he shoots over his shoulder at the man rooted to the ground outside. 

You also don’t realize the kind of picture you two made in front of poor Randy, who’s suddenly regretting his life choices when faced with that dark, almost inhumanly possessive gleam in that terrifying man’s eyes.

Rafayel grips the glass in his hand tightly, fighting the urge to lean down and inhale that intoxicatingly sweet scent emanating from you. The week before the tides switch directions is always a test of self-restraint; flashes of hunger tainting his thoughts, urging him to indulge in his deepest desires. His body burns with a fever that can only be soothed by the touch of his person…and he’s finally found you, after all these lifetimes, you’re here in front of him. It’s an exquisite kind of torture, being so close yet so far. Everything about you naturally draws him in.

The smell of you beneath the artificial perfumes and soaps you use—rose hips, spring water and sunlight. The soft give of your stomach, hips and thighs that show beneath the skin tight dress you’re wearing. Those wide, dark eyes that twinkle with humor and a tender affection you think he doesn’t see when you stare at him. The slim coolness of your finger; the bright sound of your laughter; the way your gummy smile curves your eyes into crescents—all of you drives him to near madness every time you interact, and he wouldn't have it any other way. Would suffer throughout it all if only he can have you that much closer to him, how you are now.

Leaning against him and pressed shoulder to shoulder, your head rests on his bicep as you scroll through your phone. You two were debating on lunch options for tomorrow, but he’d gotten lost in the soft cadence of your voice, eyes glued to your lips as one of your hands idly played with the long strip of his choker. You weren’t even doing it consciously, but every so often you’d lightly tug at it to get his attention. As if he wasn’t already hanging onto every word that fell past your painted lips. It was slowly chipping away at the little strength he had left, and he was so close to just finally pulling you away to a dark corner when someone from the group—Isaiah, he thinks—pulled him into the wider conversation. Rafayel eagerly threw himself into it, doing anything he could possibly do to avoid the thoughts flying through his mind, each of them more depraved than the last.

But you still play with his choker and occasionally tug it, so despite his best efforts, his thoughts always stray back to you. His fault alone, he knows, but it doesn’t make any of it easy to control when you look like that.

When he saw the kind of dress you were planning to wear, he knew that he couldn’t just leave you to go out like that alone. Nevermind that you were going out with Estella and Thomas. It didn’t matter that the people you were hanging out with were old college buddies. You were still going outside to a bar. You were going to be drinking, dressed up all fancy and pretty. Guys would be approaching you nonstop, no matter if you were surrounded by your friends or not. And like hell he was gonna let some random, unworthy man see you like that when he hasn’t even gotten the chance yet.

‘Though, one managed to slip through the cracks anyway.’ Rafayel glances at the tall man sitting on the other side of the booth. Randy’s too busy arguing with Lyrica to notice his stare at first, but maybe the idiot has some kinda sixth sense, because he casually flicks his eyes around the table. When they land on Rafayel, he does a slight double take and he flinches a bit, before directing his gaze back to Lyrica. Albeit, a little paler than he was before.

He snickers to himself at the flash of fear on the man’s face. Good, he should know better than to touch someone when they clearly don’t want it. Should know better than to lay hands on who doesn’t belong to him.

It had been a rather infuriating sight, coming across you two the way he did. Randy, towering over you with clear lust in his eyes, hand audaciously pressed to your back as he tried to guide you into the bar. You with that uncomfortable smile on your face, your eyes just barely hiding the exasperation and disgust at him touching you. It was only the familiarity between you two that saved Randy from losing that hand. But only just barely. Clearly, the man got the message, because even now he doesn’t so much as look in your direction anymore.

The smirk that curls his lips forms instinctively, an act that doesn’t go unnoticed by you.

“What devious plans are you coming up with to look like that, huh?”

Your cheek squishes against his forearm, lips forming a slight pout as you lower your phone and stare at him, half-amused and half-suspicious. It’s a dangerously cute expression on your pretty face, and he has the sudden urge to lean over and kiss that tempting pout away. He’s halfway to doing it before he even realizes, the shadow of his torso falling over you startling him out of his daze. 

You only blink up at him with dark, wide glossy eyes, puzzled. Entirely too trusting and too open; so different than how he’s used to seeing you in person. Cold and professional with a perfect smile that conveys nothing but an empty politeness, it had been a challenge to get to you to crack that infallible expression of yours. It took a week of him burdening you with all sorts of pointless tasks, hoping that annoying you would be the way to go, before you did. And not because you were angry—no, it happened because he made some snide comment about the old lady at the supermarket who cut him in line sometime prior to you two meeting. He doesn’t even remember exactly what he said, but whatever he did say was mean and rude and it made you laugh.

A real laugh too; a deep, guttural hiccup that sounded like absolute perfection to his ears. Mouth opened in a wide smile, eyes scrunched into crescents as the sunlight from his windows streamed in. You looked like something holy, in that light. The sheer white curtains billowing around your figure casting you in dappled shadows, the scent of the sea breeze rich in the air. He had known you were special when he saw you—but this? This was something far, far beyond that.

And now here he is; helplessly drawn to your side, eagerly craving whatever scrap of attention you can afford to give him. Begging, demanding more that you so easily give to him. Even when it meant badgering you constantly with messages, surprising you with phone calls, crashing intimate parties with your friends. Whatever he asks you willingly let him have. It’s a dangerous game you’re playing. A game with the vast eldritch beast that lurks in the abyss of his soul. Old as the seas and the moon and stars; always searching, always moving, always hungry. 

Always.

Rafayel forces out a normal sounding laugh, setting down his drink and turning his body to give you his full attention. He makes sure to keep you exactly where you are though, sliding his arm around until it cushions the delicate curve of your neck, leaving his hand to grip the back of the booth. The dimmed lights do a good job of blurring out the more finite details of your expressions, but his eyes are sharp, and they notice the flush darkening your cheeks. The rapid stutter of your chest and the nervous way you flick your eyes back down to your phone. The pout morphs into a shy little smile as you peek up at him from underneath your eyelashes, the ends of your nails clicking against the case of your phone.

You’re so fucking beautiful.

His fingers twitch with the need for a pencil. He wants to sketch that look on your face, and he thinks pencil is one of the better mediums to fully grasp the finer details of your expressions. The little dimples that form above your lips when you purse them. The faint freckles he can see scattered across the bridge of your nose. He wants to sit in his studio for hours just sketching you; could probably do it from memory alone if given the chance. Honestly, though, he would prefer to have you there in front of him. You’d do it, too. He knows you would. Even if he asked in the brattiest, most roundabout way, you would agree without hesitation. The thought sends a pulse of heat through his body, and he has to swallow back the hiss that threatens to fall past his lips.

Those damn flashes.

“So, you gonna answer me or not?”

Rafayel quirks a brow, pretending to think on the question as he glances away from you. Just—he needs a moment to calm down. To get a handle on the want quickly filling him with indecent thoughts. Thoughts of you spread out in his studio on his couch, in the bath, on his bed. Bare and open. Trusting him to handle you, take care of you the way he knows he can. Satisfy that empty feeling in your chest that throbs within his own. It’d be so easy too. To just, ask you to come over. To pull you into his arms and rest his hands against your cheeks. To tilt your head back and finally sink his teeth into your neck—

“I think I’m gonna pass on that. Did you find where you’re taking me tomorrow?” He swings his eyes back to focus on you, smiling like he isn’t thinking of devouring you, in every sense of the word.

You huff out a tiny breath, but you open your darkened phone screen and show him a few places you think are good. Your voice goes a little quiet when you realize how intensely he’s staring at you, that blush getting brighter when he casually leans down to look at your phone. It would’ve been easy for him to just snatch the phone from your hand, but he’s weak. Any excuse to get closer to you is a valid one.

He stares hard at your phone screen, biting back a groan when he gets another whiff of your scent. Your little hot puffs of breath at his cheek and the slight tremble of your hands as you take in his proximity almost do him in, but he refrains. Barely.

“So?” The wine riding on the scent of your breath is sweet and slightly tangy; a Moscato Sangria, if he’s remembering correctly.

“Hmm, okay tell you what, cutie.” Rafayel grins when he audibly hears the little stutter of your heartbeat. This close, he’s sure that he could see your pulse through the thin skin of your throat, but if he continues down that trail of thought, he’ll really snap. So, once again, he calls on what little self-restraint he has.

“I’ll be gracious enough and let you choose where we go. But, if the food sucks then I’m gonna tease you about it forever, deal?” He tilts his head and glances at you from the corner of his eye. You sigh, an exasperated yet fond look in your eyes as you poke his cheek with your finger.

“Fine, fine. Gosh, you’re such a menace, I swear.” He carefully doesn’t breathe as you continue to jokingly poke at his face. He wants to lean into your touch, and he begins to when his senses snap back to him. Slowly but still as natural as anything, he straightens up, using his other hand to playfully swat yours away. He waits until your attention shifts away from him, and even though his knee-jerk reaction is to force it back, instead he uses this time to try and relax. The warmth of your touch still lingers against his skin like a brand, and it makes the already pounding bass of his heart beat that much faster.

Thankfully, since the room is dark, no one can really see the blush rushing across his nose and ears. And if they do, well, then it’s because of his drink rather than his pretty little assistant pressed close to him.

“Are you sure this is okay? I know you were worried about it being too much for you…” Estella asks for the third time, looking at you through the bathroom mirror. She completely ignores the girl half-passed out in the sink, as well as the other two girls making out against the bathroom stall behind you. There’s another in a closed stall, vomiting her guts out by the sound of it. Even with the faint thump from the powerful base outside, it still echoes out wetly and you grimace. Estella doesn’t even blink, watching for your response with worried eyes. You shoot her a reassuring smile, fighting back an incredulous snort as Estella absently makes sure the faucet is off for the girl in the sink. 

The evening at the bar you were at passed by within the blink of an eye, and before you realized, your three long hour reservation ended. By that time, you were pleasantly tipsy and not quite ready to go back home. Randy, Lyrica and her boyfriend Isaiah had all called it quits, but the rest of you still wanted to be outside and enjoy the summer night. Even Rafayel seemed game, despite the man being as much of a recluse as you, so you all agreed to go to a nearby nightclub to keep the party going a bit. ‘I do wonder why Randy didn’t join though. It’s usually his kind of scene.’ You brush it off once Estella gives you a look and you rush to answer it.

“I think I can handle just a little bit of club action. It’s been years since everyone’s been together, why not, right?”

She raises a skeptical brow.

“And it totally has nothing to do with the six foot tall hottie of a painter currently bothering Thomas outside, hm?” 

You ignore her shit-eating grin and fiddle with your bangs, shying away from her fingers when they reach out to lightly poke your side.

“Oooh, you’ve got it bad, dontcha girl?”

“You’ve got no fucking idea.” You mumble underneath your breath, flushing when she lets out an excited squeal that shocks the girl in the sink awake and splits apart the couple behind you. Quickly, before a fight can break out because one half of the couple looks drunk enough to try your friend, you usher Estella out of the bathroom and back into the club.

It’s packed, of course. A Saturday night in DownTown Linkon means that any and all nightclubs are full. It’s a little suffocating, for you, as Estella grips your wrist and yanks you through the throng of girls waiting outside the bathroom doors in various states of drunkenness. You two have to cut through the side of the main dance floor to get back to the others, and while it definitely is less busy than being directly in the middle, it still is a lot for you to handle regardless.

Strobes of green, pink and white flare out from the cluster of rotating lights scattered along the rafters above you, dancing across the crowd in hypnotizing patterns that make you dizzy. Smoke curls in the air, drifting like clouds across the night sky as they cover some of the overhead bundles of lights. Beams refract at even stranger angles as the smoke passes, the lights filling your eyes with after images of color as the bass to the current song drops. The fast-paced ‘thump-thump-thump’ switches over into something slower. A deeper, sensual rhythm that has the bodies surrounding you packing even tighter together. 

Stray hands and fingers glide over you as she pulls you forward, and you have to close your eyes to keep your mind from getting lost in the kaleidoscope of colors filling your vision. The smell of cigarettes and vape smoke becomes even stronger once you do, and your eyes pop open against your will when a hand boldly grabs your ass before Estella hauls you even further. Being tipsy yourself—drinking about two cups of wine and having a sip or two of Rafayel’s fruity margarita—you feel a little sick being thrown around like a fucking pizza. Just as you’re about to tell Estella to slow the hell down, you’re momentarily blinded by a stray strobe light to your eyes. Because of that, you don’t see the person in front of you when Estella suddenly lets go of your hand.

“Baby! C’mon, Jessica and her girl are already on the floor and we’ve gotta show ‘em how it's done.”

“Must we.” You barely hear the dry edge to Thomas’s words before you fall face first into someone’s chest. You swear, one day, you’re gonna toss Estella around like that in a sea of gross bodies and see how she fucking likes it. Running into random people at a club is not something you find entertaining in the slightest.

“Oh–shit, I’m sorry.” You blink away the spots from your vision, looking up to apologize to the stranger, except it’s someone a lot more familiar and a lot more welcome.

“You’ve got a bad habit of running into me, cutie.” Rafayel leans down real close in order for you to hear him properly, his lips just barely touching the shell of your ear as his hands fall on your body to steady you; one on your bare shoulder, the other falling to your waist. Jessica was whining about being cold earlier, so you had offered your jacket out of concern. Now…now you don’t know if you regret it or not. Not when the heat seeping into your skin is making your already fuzzy mind all the more hazy. You shiver, blinking as a line of neon green flares over Rafayel, momentarily lighting your way in the dark, crowded room.

Your face is level with his neck, and here, that sea-breeze-hot-sand-moonlight blend of his scent is stronger. You can physically feel the way your body automatically relaxes as you breathe him in deeply, your own hands coming up to rest on the criminally smooth silk of his shirt.

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t be in my way all the time.” You mumble out, swallowing back a groan when you can feel the muscles beneath his shirt twitch as the sudden heat of your breath hits his ear. Another flash of light slants over him, and you notice that his ears are turning a dark shade of pink. Your stomach swoops at the realization, and you have the sudden urge to look at his face; to see if that blush goes any further. You go to pull back, to try and get a glimpse of his expression, but you’re stopped by his hands pulling you in closer; until your bodies are flush against each other.

 “And where do you think you’re going, hm?” The low rasp of his voice strikes you like a lightning bolt, and you have to bite the inside of your cheek to swallow back the sound you almost let out because of it. It takes you a few tries of opening and closing your mouth, but eventually you get out the words.

“T-to maybe sit down..? Or…” You pause, your whole head dizzy from the mixture of alcohol and desperate want lighting you up inside like a firecracker. 

“Or..?” He drawls out, and maybe it's the alcohol talking, but you swear you feel his teeth graze your ear slightly. You shake within the hold he’s got on you, and you feel the low rumble of his laugh through the vibrations racing through your hands before it barks out close to your ear.

“Oh, c’mon, beautiful. You can tell me what you want, right?” Your hands curl up where they rest on his chest, and you press your forehead into his neck to try and muffle the loud moan that nickname causes you to let out, thighs unconsciously squeezing to try and offer yourself a bit of friction to your suddenly achy clit. God, you feel as if you’re gonna shake out of your skin if he keeps talking to you like that. The hand on your shoulder slides down to join its twin on your waist, and you literally can’t keep the sounds from exiting your mouth even if you tried. A trail of fire follows the path of his hand, and it slowly sinks past the stretchy fabric of your dress to meet the sensitive, twitching center of your cunt. Rafayel trembles underneath your hold slightly, the grip around your waist getting tighter.

“Tell me.” It’s a surprise to hear his words, half-demand, half-plea as he breathes hotly into your ear. You blink away the stray amount of tears forming at the corners of your eyes. It honestly has been years since you’ve last been intimate with anyone, so maybe that’s why you feel this sensitive? Who knows, because you can certainly say that you don’t—not when your entire body feels like its housing magma within your veins.

But Rafayel needs something from you, yeah?

“...Do you? Wanna go dance with me?” You gasp out, your loud sound of surprise being drowned out by the heavy beat as Rafayel bodily picks you up. His hands rest on the soft pudge of your waist, the tip of his nose finding the crook of your neck as he blindly pushes his way through the crowd. You cling onto his back with your nails, and you feel the vibrations of his groan as they cut a little deeper than you intended in your shock.

You open your mouth to apologize maybe? But your entire focus falls onto the way Rafayel changes his grip from your waist to your thighs, sliding in between the slits on either side of your body. Your eyes roll slightly when that searing heat gets even closer to where you really want it, mouth falling open when he presses light, barely there kisses along the side of your neck. You dig your nails into his back again, making these whiny, soft little noises into the side of his throat near his ear. You can’t help it—it’s all just too much for you. Every time he touches you like this, skin on skin, it feels like he’s igniting all of these little embers inside of you. Like he’s trying to fan them into a full blown blaze. Your mind is in a haze of sensation, the lights around you pulling you deeper into that floaty, barely there feeling.

You’re suddenly being let down, and you make an upset noise, keeping your arms wrapped around Rafayel’s neck as he sets your feet back on the ground. Your hold forces his forehead to knock against yours, and through your slightly blurry vision, you can spot the darker tint to his cheeks, the slack part to his mouth, the long length of his lashes as his lids fall to half mast. His hands travel back up to the low dip of your waist, gripping so tightly to the fabric of your dress that it slightly bunches. He exhales in and out, and your breaths mingle as you stare helplessly into his eyes.

Fuck, those eyes of his.

Normally, they’re so bright they almost blind you; reminding you of sunsets on the beach or the polychromatic colors found in bubbles of seafoam. Underneath the darkness of the club, though, they’re a deep and unfathomable black. Flat and without an eyeshine to them, it’s like looking into the ocean in the dead of night. Still waters hiding the dangers underneath an empty void. A shark smelling blood in the water. A hungry predator lying in wait.

Those predator eyes of his combined with the calmness of his expression is a terrifying mix. You know you should be afraid. It’s the normal reaction—the correct reaction in the face of the all consuming hunger you can see reflected in his eyes. But all that look makes you feel excitement so potent and vast that it makes you gush heavily into the cotton of your panties.

God, there’s something fucking wrong with you.

His parted lips suddenly split into a wide, off kilter smile. You think you see a flash of serrated teeth before he ducks his head and presses his lips against your jugular. Your breath stops in your chest as your body easily bends to his whims, your back arching to accommodate the new position he fixes himself in. You’re utterly frozen as he drags his mouth over the sensitive, delicate skin of your throat; breath hot and raising goosebumps across your skin.

“You said you wanted to dance.” The dark murmur makes your thighs twitch, and you start to breathe again when he readjusts your dress. He spins you around without another word, plastering himself against your back. His hands fall to your hips, the curve of your ass settling in the cradle of his pelvis as he leans his head against yours. His mouth levels with your ear again.

“So let’s dance, yeah, cutie?”

An order more than a plea; clearly, he wasn’t asking you. 

That deep, sensual rhythm still plays around you. Slow and reverberating through your entire body, you can do nothing but obey. So you move; hesitantly, nervously, until the beat settles within your bones. Side to side, back and forth, rotate your hips and repeat until it becomes second nature to you. Until the hypnotic sound becomes as easy as breathing. Time slows to a crawl as you sway to the steady ‘boom-boom-boom’, breath hitching when you feel Rafayel join in on the motion.

Pressed so close together, you can feel everything. The heaving of his muscled chest, the sweat from his hair dripping down the slope of your neck, the strong grip of his hands holding onto your hips, the bulge in his slacks insistently poking at the round flesh of your ass. You’re trembling, you discover, when he starts to move against you. Shaking with so much pent up need that it feels like you’re going to explode from the pressure of it all.

Your hands lay against his, and though his moves don’t falter, his breath does catch. You can’t see him from the angle you’re facing—all you can see is an ocean of shadows, all flickering eerily in and out of focus with the strobe lights and smoke. Breathing heavily, you slowly inch his hands down to the wide slits of your dress. That hitching becomes a loud groan, desperate and frenzied all at once. It makes your legs quake, but you don’t slow your hands until you can feel every inch of his palms on your bare flesh. His fingers immediately sink into the plush fat, his hips roughly rolling forward. Your cunt clenches at the feeling, a pathetic mewl that’s eaten up by the pounding bass falling from your panting mouth.

Somehow, he hears it anyway.

He hisses something in a deep and foreign language you’ve never heard before in your ear. It sends a jolt through you listening to that guttural, inhuman sound. Despite that, however, the pace from before continues. Deliberate and unhurried. It makes you want to scream; you want more. Want to feel him against you without the layers. Want to feel that steady grind so deep inside of you that you’ll feel it for days after. 

You whine again at the thought, hands coming up to cover your mouth. For lack of anything better to do with them, really. Any of the noises you make are swallowed up by the surging crowd and music. You choke out another moan when his fingers slightly knead the supple flesh of your thighs, his harsh pants breathed out against you. Over and over and over again. Dragging his thick, clothed cock against your ass. Gripping your bare skin with his strong, nimble fingers. Breathing heavily into the shell of your ear, little murmurs of compliments and that strange language echoing deep within your mind.

Fog and lights draw you deeper into that haze clouding up your brain, your eyes glazing over as you get lost in the darkness of the club. You hardly even notice when you reach your peak, the only indicator being the way you fall limp in his grasp; eyes rolling to the back of your head, lips parting in a silent scream.

You quickly sink into unconsciousness after that. The last thing you feel is Rafayel shuddering against you, the echo of his low groan following you into your dreams.

fishie princess ♓

hey so about those lunch plans…

it looks like i can’t go

sorry

You immediately call him moments later, not even hesitating when you see that string of texts after you wake up. Fear and shame clog your throat, and you’re about two seconds away from breaking down if what happened last night just ruined your friendship with Rafayel.

It felt almost like a dream, remembering the end to your night out. And you would have thought it was, if you hadn’t woken up back in your apartment still dressed from the night before. A blanket had been tucked around you, and your makeup was wiped off. Barefoot but clothed in your exact same outfit—hair included. You were still reeling from that revelation of truth, because you were tipsy at most and not drunk, so you basically remembered everything before you came so hard that you passed the fuck out. Which makes the dread swirling around your belly all the more potent as you anxiously wait for Rafayel to pick up.

The call rings three times before it connects.

You open your mouth, but your mind completely blanks on what you can possibly say. You blink, and a few tears drip down your cheeks, and you have to bite down on your lip hard to stop the sob from coming out. 

“...[✦]?”

You pause when you hear his voice. Low and raspy. Did he just wake up? Is that why he took so long to answer? It hadn’t been very long at all since he sent the texts, so maybe. You grip your phone tightly, fingers aching from the strain. You know you’ve got to say something, but it’s just so hard when it feels like your entire world is crashing down around your ears. Does he regret it? Is that why he doesn’t want to see you?

Just the thought jabs into your heart like a blade, and it's the threat of not knowing that drives you to finally speak.

“Are…are we okay? Are—did you cancel on me because of last night…?” Barely louder than a whisper, your voice rings out in the silence of your apartment like a gunshot. Saying it out loud makes it real to you, and more tears fall from your eyes as you squeeze them shut. There’s a shaky note to your voice that you’re sure gives you away, and you wish you had a semblance of a poker face when it comes to Rafayel. It’s embarrassing how easily you break at the thought of him distancing himself from you after last night. But there was something there, between you two yesterday. A palpable tension lurking behind every look given. Every word spoken. Every touch you two shared.

You thought so, at least. But if he really thinks that moment at the club was a mistake…you think it would shatter you. No, you know for a fact it would. The longer he doesn’t speak, the more the pain in your chest spreads until you're folded over, forehead touching your knees as you try and keep your tears quiet. Fuck, did you just destroy this? Did you really just throw away the chance at having him in your life because you were too weak to deny that greedy little thing buried deep inside of you?

“Rafayel…?” You croak out, needing him to say something already.

“Are you…crying?” 

“No.” Your lie isn’t even convincing enough to fool a baby. It’s so fucking obvious that you’re crying, you feel ashamed for even lying about it. What hurts you more is the pained sound Rafayel lets out after.

“Why–?” But you can’t let him finish. You refuse to think about anything else until he answers you.

“Do you regret it? What happened between us last night.”

“...” You can hear the sound of him breathing heavily on the other end, and despite the pain you feel, you also can’t help but get a bit worried. He doesn't sound okay, panting that hard.

“..of course I don’t. I could never. Do you know how long I’ve wanted to–urk!” His ragged voice cuts out with a grunt, and you jump when something crashes to the ground in the background. 

“Rafayel?! Are you alright?”

“Yeah…just fell out of my bed.” He wheezes and you sigh with relief. Then, the weight of his words hits you, and your face burns hot. Does that mean he wanted last night too? That…that it wasn’t a mistake? Silence falls again and neither of you seem willing to break the awkward stalemate. You chew on your lip, tugging on one of your messy braids as you wait for Rafayel to speak up first. He was the last one talking after all…

“I’m not cancelling on you because of last night. You know I wouldn’t do that to you.” 

You flop onto your back with a low sigh, using one of your hands to wipe away your tears. Relief replaces the pain, and you nod your head even though he can’t see it.

“No, no you wouldn’t. I’m sorry, just—you gotta know how scary it is to wake up with that sorta text after…” You trail off with a strangled whine, and the last of your anxiety is wiped away by the tired, yet bright laugh that rumbles in your ear.

“You’re right. I’m sorry about that, beautiful. Didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“D-don’t worry about it, it’s fine! But, why are you quitting on me? Did something come up?” You hear the sounds of shuffling come from the other end of the phone, and you frown when you hear a distant groan. Did he hurt himself falling?

“...I’m a little…under the weather. I woke up and didn’t feel so good, and I didn’t want to go eat when I felt like this, sooo…”

Well. Now you feel like a moron. He’s fucking sick, why the hell would he want to go outside when he’s feeling like shit? And it wasn’t like he said he didn’t want to see you—just that he couldn’t go. ‘Wow, that’s gotta be a new low.’ You press your palm to your face hard. You want to scream with how embarrassed you feel. But your emotional freakout can wait for a later time. Rafayel is sick, maybe he caught something from last night, or maybe it was from days prior. Whatever he’s got, it’s keeping him locked inside of his home.

Only one thing to do, then.

“Hmm, yeah that makes sense. Have you taken anything for it? Or have you just been rolling around in your bed whining at the pain?” 

“How mean!” 

“So that’s a yes then. Alright, well give me a few hours and let me put together a bag. If you’re sick, I can take care of you until you’re better. I’m off work for the next two weeks, so I should be able to—”

“No you don’t! I’m not risking you getting the ick too. I’ll have some stuff delivered, so you don’t need to come all the way over.”

You pause. Rafayel…doesn’t want you to take care of him like this? When every other time he’s damn near demanded you baby him until he heals up?

“You…don’t want to see me…?” Doubt begins to creep back in, but before its roots can fully take hold, Rafayel stops them.

“I always wanna see you, cutie. Never doubt me on that.” Your tense shoulders relax when you hear the sincerity and conviction in his voice. Then why…?

“Is it that bad?”

He sighs.

“It definitely feels a lot different than just a common cold. I don’t wanna accidentally give it to you, so I’ll heal up on my own this time.” The exhaustion in his tone makes your heart ache.

“Are you sure? You know I wouldn’t mind helping out if you need me to, Rafayel.” He groans through the phone, and the worry in your chest ratchets up in its intensity. You’re already standing and about to put on your shoes before his voice stops your movements.

“I’ll be fine. We’ll just have to go out when I get better, that’s all. I’ll be good as new in a few days, trust me, alright?” The strained, heavy breathing dictates otherwise, but you allow him his privacy. He’s asking you to give him some time to heal, so that’s exactly what you’ll do.

“...Fine. But I’m going to at least call you to check up on you! If you don’t answer, I’m marching right over and helping you out. And I mean it, Rafayel. You’ve got me worried, sounding that pitiful.” You try to inject a bit of humor to lighten up the mood, but you think the concern in your voice just cancels it out. Rafayel gives you a weak little chuckle.

“I’m sick right now and you attack me like this? Striking a man while he’s down is a low blow, you know.”

“Well then get better so it’ll be a more even match.”

He laughs again, this time with a little more energy.

“Yes ma’am. Now shoo and lemme rest up some more.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just, let me know if you need anything, okay, Rafayel?

“You got it, cutie.” 

“You promise?” Maybe you’re being too pushy, but you can’t get rid of the nagging feeling that he’s hiding something else from you. He’s still sick, and you believe him when he says that he wasn’t regretting last night. But still…something about his tone doesn’t feel like the whole truth of the matter. It bugs you that he isn’t telling you. Itches at your skin that you aren’t able to make him feel better—that he’s not allowing you to make him feel better. So you need to hear him say that he’ll come to you when he’s ready. If you don’t, you might just hop on a train to Mo Art Studio and give your help to him whether he wants it or not.

“Yeah, I promise. I’ll let you know when I need you.” You shiver at the strange tone you hear at the end of his words, but before you can even begin to ask about it, his voice chimes in with a much lighter tone.

“Bye, bye, cutie. We’ll talk later, m’kay?”

“...Bye Rafayel.”

One click and the call disconnects.

Days pass slowly for you.

True to your word, you call Rafayel everyday for a checkup. Even if you two still text when he’s not resting, even if you’re texting before the appointed time for the call. You never fail to hit that little phone button. And he never fails to pick up; that low rasp of his meeting your ears and soothing the worry somewhat.

You breathe a lot easier whenever you get to hear him speak. It feels as if you’re actively doing something instead of just sitting around and waiting for him to get better. However, you do feel a little bad at making him talk with a sore throat. At least, you think he has a sore throat. That’s really the only explanation for the lower register he now uses. It would even explain the strange sounds that interrupt him when he speaks sometimes. Noises akin to a bastardized mix of a dog’s growl and a dolphin’s clicking. It’s usually cleared away when he coughs, and even though it worries the absolute fuck out of you, he always waves them away with a laugh that’s beginning to sound a lot more forced as time flies by.

Because those strange noises never go away. If anything, they get more frequent, and as much as he tries to downplay it, you know for a fact that sounding like some kind of fucking scary sea monster isn’t normal.

It doesn’t help that you also just plain miss him.

Yes, you two talk on the phone and text and even share a few video calls if he feels up to it. But it isn’t enough for you anymore. You want to physically be around him now. That one night out has spoiled you rotten and you can’t stand that you aren’t within his personal bubble anymore. He was so close to you that entire night, whether it was a hand on your arm, tossed over your shoulder or gripping your waist. It’s driving you crazy reliving those sensations in your mind, but that’s all you can do now. Replay that night over and over again inside your head; reliving the things you remembered feeling. 

How it felt to be pressed against him, his muscled chest to your back, his body heat seeping into your skin as his hips rocked against you. You now know what his hands feel like against your face, tugging at your hair, gripping onto your thighs and waist—lifting you like you weighed nothing to him. You know what hunger looks like painted on the pretty angles of his face; pink lips parted, eyelids lowered over those dark, dark voids that threatened to suck you in like a whirlpool, eagerly waiting to drown you in their unknowable depths. You know what he sounds like when he’s desperate and panting in your ear, when he’s giving you an order in that dark tone of his, when he’s hissing out praises too garbled and low for you to truly hear. 

And, every time you go to sleep, deep inside of your dreams, you think you hear the noise he made just before you passed out. That hitching groan that tapered off into a pretty little whimper as his hips jerked against you in uneven patterns, so different from the slow and methodical rhythm seen before. You don’t know if it really happened or if you made up that last part, but it still haunts you regardless. Makes your heart race in your chest, makes your cunt clench and your mouth water at the thought of causing him to sound like that again.

You want it more than anything. You want him more than anything you’ve ever wanted in your life.  And you’re only human. A weak, weak human whose patience finally runs out after a week of not seeing him. You manage to last until the late afternoon after your usual call with Rafayel before you finally snap, and you should at least be commended for that, you think.

You don’t tell him you’re coming over—you already know what he’ll say—and he told you he’d be taking a nap after your call, so it really is the perfect time to sneak over there. If you get there late enough, you’ll also have a decent excuse of staying over, even if it’d be only for the night. Just one night to watch over him would be enough for you.

He’s sick, so you cover yourself up in comfortable clothes you don’t mind messing up, tying your hair up in a quick ponytail. A baggy pair of black sweatpants and a normal white tee that’s thin enough to keep you from overheating underneath the hoodie you zip over it. You take your keys and phone, only the essentials because your hands need to be free when you stop at the pharmacy to pick up the appropriate supplies. After double checking that you’ve locked your door, you head to the train station and make the trip.

One hour later and arms filled with bags from the pharmacy as well as some extra easy to digest snacks and drinks from the convenience store, you’re looking at the outside gate of Mo Art Studio. Swallowing, nerves bubble and pop in your belly, your heavy breaths warming up the space covered by the light blue surgical mask pulled to the bridge of your nose. The sun is going down now, and while a part of you is a bit worried about that, an even bigger part is stuck on the thought of you being in his home at night after everything.

Shaking your head, you push your way through the open gates, slowly walking up the path into the building. 

Rafayel gave you a key back when you were working for him, so when you get to his studio door, you fumble your way through your pockets. Your hand is shaking, and it takes you a few tries before you get the door to open. You exhale sharply when it swings past you, and you peek your head in to view the room inside.

“Rafayel, are you awake? I brought you some things I think will help…” Your voice is tentatively low as you inch your way into the dark studio. The curtains are open, so while there’s no lights turned on, the rays of the setting sun light your path enough for you to see. It’s then that you notice the body sprawled out on the ground in front of the sofa, back facing the cushions and arms stretched out in front of him. The only thing stopping you from rushing over is the rise and fall of his chest, as labored as his breathing is. Sweat glints underneath the sun's rays as it beads on his cheeks and neck, so you stop dawdling and quickly enter his home.

You close the door quietly behind you, setting down the bags and rummaging through them for a towel and the large bottle of water you bought. A cold compress should help with the very clear fever he’s got, and the extra water can be used to hydrate him. Rafayel tends to dry easily, so you know he couldn’t complain too much if you woke him up for something to drink.

It takes you no time at all to find the things you need, and soon enough, you’re sitting on your knees beside the awkwardly laying Rafayel, positioned directly in front of him. The ends of his hair are damp and stick to his forehead and the base of his neck, an alarming shade of pink covering his cheeks and the top of his chest you can see beneath his partly open button up. What you mistook as sweat from afar actually turns out to be little blue scales. They dot along the tops of his cheekbones, leading a sparse trail down to the side of his throat. His already pale skin looks even paler mingling with the shining blue, and the pained grimace furrowing his brow makes your chest ache. You have no idea what those scales can possibly mean, even though something tickles at the back of your mind with a vague sense of knowing. You ignore it, focusing on what you came here to do and not the odd new additions to Rafayel’s handsome face.

After folding and wetting the towel, you gently press it to his forehead, smiling when he sleepily groans and turns his face towards your hands. His eyes squint, and he grumbles nonsense before settling again. You almost don’t want to wake him, but with how much he’s sweating, you want to get some fluids in him as quickly as you can. With another intake of breath, you do your best to wake him.

“Hey…hey, wake up, Rafayel.” You shake his shoulder, trying again and again until he finally squirms and starts to wake. The last of the sun’s rays lay a thick stripe over his eyes, and when he opens them, they look like blazing flames. Your breath hitches when those unfocused flames land on your face and you get a strange image layered over his prone form. It’s gone between one blink and the next, but it leaves you shaken regardless—that niggling of knowing getting the slightest bit louder in your head. He blinks and the last of the sun’s light dies out, leaving you both in the cool tones of the evening sky.

“You up now?” You ask, watching as confusion fills Rafayel’s face. His eyes track up to his forehead where the compress is and then back to your face. He stays silent for a moment, seemingly at a loss for words; maybe for the first time in his life. You give him a smile and carefully help him sit up against the bottom of the couch.

“...Cutie?” You wince at the scratchy sound of his voice and hurriedly bring the bottle of water to his lips. Sluggishly, he drinks the water, eyes never leaving you as the confusion clears and something else takes its place. You ignore the burning of your cheeks and keep helping him drink, avoiding the growing heat in Rafayel’s lidded eyes as they stare deeply at you.

“Better?” You ask after he finishes the whole bottle. He hums out something non-committal, the hazy darkness of his eyes highlighted by the sudden moonlight bleeding in from the windows. You reach up to adjust the compress on his forehead when he doesn’t say anything. Your fingers accidentally graze the side of his nose, and you go to apologize, but it dies on your lips when Rafayel’s eyes flutter shut and he eagerly leans towards your palm.

You can only watch, mute, as one of his hands grabs onto your wrist, sliding underneath the loose sleeve of your hoodie. His skin is hot to the touch, maybe even a little too hot as the drag of his fingers leaves a scorching path across your skin. It hurts, the burning left behind by his dexterous fingers, but if anything you lean into that pain; eyes glued to the expression on his face as he nuzzles into your captured palm.

Blissful is the only word to come to your mind as he presses his mouth to your hand, layering gentle nips to the fleshy part of your palm before rubbing his cheek over your knuckles. You clench your other hand in the fabric of your sweatpants, biting down on your lip to keep in the noises threatening to escape. The heat from his hands and mouth is dizzying, leaving your head a complete mess while you watch him press close to your open hand. He seems to…worship your hand, dragging his nose along the slender curve of your digits, cupping his cheek with your palm, inhaling the thin skin of your wrist like he’s some kind of hunting dog.

It all makes your belly tingle with excitement, but when his hazy eyes open to meet yours, it’s like a cold bucket of water is thrown on you. Unfocused and completely incoherent—Rafayel doesn’t really know what he’s doing right now. The arousal quickly dies out after that, replaced with concern and disgust aimed at yourself.

He’s sick and feverish, you can’t take anything that he’s doing now seriously whatsoever. The last thing you want to do is take advantage of the man you love in such a despicable way. Gently, you begin to pull away your hand, the ache in your heart growing when he makes a low, forlorn sound. He sounds like a little puppy when he whines like that, and he does try to keep your hand in his grip, but it just isn’t right of you to allow this to continue.

“Rafayel, you’ve gotta let me go, okay? You’re still sick, so I want you to try and lay down on the couch.” You have to use your other hand to properly disentangle the first, but you do free yourself. Rafayel looks sad for about six seconds before a startling sense of clarity enters his eyes. He jerks back, an irritated frown forming on his face as he glares at you.

‘There he goes.’ You smile as best you can, hoping that it’s conveyed despite the mask.

“Hey, Rafayel.” It’s lame and awkward as hell, but that doesn’t stop you from trying regardless.

“What are you doing here—I told you to stay away from me until I get better.” It hurts you to be on the receiving end of that pissed off look, but at least you can finally see him in person, hear him without the tinny filer of a phone and the limited specs of a camera. The hurt in your chest spreads when his anger doesn’t abate, and the emotions you’ve been grappling at for the past week suddenly come to the forefront of your mind. The worry, the fear, the longing—all of it.

“And when exactly was that going to happen, huh? It’s been a week and you haven’t gotten any better. You didn’t sound like you did during our phone calls either, if anything your fever got worse! A week may not seem like a long time to you, but it is to me and I fucking missed you, you ass—,” You hate that your voice cracks on the word. You hate even more when Rafayel’s eyes widen and then grow concerned at the sight of your teary eyes. This isn’t supposed to be about you at all, it’s supposed to be about him. But you also can’t deny that you had a selfish ulterior motive. You angrily sigh, more upset at yourself than him.

You reach up to wipe the tears in your eyes, but feverishly warm fingers beat you to it. Between one blink and the next, Rafayel is all up in your face, gazing down at you with a visibly conflicted expression as he gently clears the tears away from your waterline. You sniffle a little and blink at him, eyes going from the dark pool swirling within the sunset-hues if his irises to the gleaming blue scales sitting pretty on his cheeks.

“...You’re crying again.” He states quietly, and you honestly don’t know how to respond to that, so you keep silent, your gaze moving down to look at the scales on his neck. 

Rafayel clearly has more secrets than you ever realized. Carries more than he ever wanted to share with you. Is he really sick? Or…or was he trying to keep the scales a secret from you. Maybe he doesn’t trust you enough to tell you? Or maybe he’s been betrayed before and he can’t trust you no matter how much he wants to? Is this a new thing or has he always been this way? Is this why he’s so reclusive? The various questions cross your mind so fast you almost grow dizzy. 

Maybe you shouldn’t have come.

“Do you want me to leave?” You whisper, eyes resolutely locked onto the side of his throat. You can feel the weight of his stare as it bores into you, but you just can’t look at his face. If he rejects you outright and you see it, you’ll definitely cry and you really don’t want to do that. You were being selfish, if he’s upset and wants to send you away then that’s completely his right. Rafayel sighs heavily, and you wilt underneath the weight of that pressure. You’re just about to move away when one of his hands anchors to your waist, freezing you in your tracks.

“Silly girl, don’t you remember what I told you before?” His fingers softly land underneath your chin, tipping your head up so that you’re meeting his eyes. His brows are furrowed slightly, but it's more frustration than real anger anymore. And it seems to be aimed more at himself than you. He gently taps your chin with the pads of his forefinger, giving you an expectant look when you keep quiet.

You flush.

“Th…that you’ll always wanna see me. N-never doubt that.”

“Exactly. So you already know the answer to that question you asked, hm?” You nod, a bit shy in the face of his candid words. But they do help you feel better, and the tense line to your shoulders relaxes. His lips faintly quirk into a smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes as he looks down at you, softly rubbing the edge of his fingers against the slight pudge of your chin. When they catch on the end of the mask, he scoffs a bit then removes it. You want to offer a protest because you really don’t want to get sick too, but they don’t pass your lips when you see that unfathomable look in his eyes.

“As much as I want you here, though, you shouldn’t be here. S’dangerous for you, cutie.” The low tone sends chills down your spine. Dangerous? Your gaze flicks to the scales, and you think back to his behavior at the nightclub. The empty blackness of his eyes, the predatory edge to his face, the flash of serrated teeth you thought you imagined. A picture is beginning to paint itself in your mind, but you won’t make any assumptions until he confirms it for you himself.

“You can’t hurt me.” You state plainly, and you can see the argument start on his face, but you interrupt before he can say a thing.

“I’m serious, Rafayel. You cannot hurt me. I won’t let you think that you will.” Swallowing down your nerves, you lean closer to him. His eyes widen and he instinctively leans back, knocking the cold compress off his forehead in his rush. You ignore the wet ‘splat’ as it falls to the ground next to you, following him until he’s back in his original spot against the couch. But this time, you’re poised over his lap, resting high up on your knees above him. The furious blush to his cheeks grows even darker as he looks up at you, and you slowly bring your hands up to cradle his face. He sharply inhales, eyelids fluttering closed even as his hands wrap around your wrists as if to pull you off. But they merely rest there, as if looking for something to hold. As if looking for an anchor.

“You don’t understand, [✦]—!”

“Then help me, Rafayel. Because from where I’m at, there’s nothing you can do that could ever hurt me.” You gently brush your thumbs along the edges of his scales; lips quirking when Rafayel’s eyes slip nearly closed. They’re wickedly sharp and cold to the touch, like stainless steel. But prettier, in your opinion. Granted, everything about Rafayel is pretty in a deadly way, so it's easy for you to accept the scales as yet another part of him. A part that you want to know about desperately. The hands around your wrist tighten and you see Rafayel’s teeth grit so hard that a vein nearly pops in his jaw. 

His eyes snap open, the normal color of his eyes now resembling that flat black from the nightclub. He bares his teeth in a snarl, an angry hiss falling vibrating up his throat. It’s unlike any expression you’ve seen on his face before, yet it does very little to frighten you. Even when you feel the prick of too-sharp nails bite into the sensitive flesh of your wrist. Even when the ends of his teeth grow the slightest bit sharper, the color of his scales glowing even brighter underneath the moonlight.

He’s stunning. And as all the puzzle pieces click in your mind, you finally understand what he is.

“I’m a Lemurian, [✦]. I’m a vicious, angry monster that snaps up humans and whatever else I can sink my claws into. I’m fucking dangerous and you need to leave if you want to stay safe.” He says, as if he isn’t gripping your wrists tight enough to bruise. As if every cell in his body doesn’t want you even closer. You don’t say anything to that, just stare down at him with the sweetest and softest smile you have and keep the hold on his face easy and gentle.

You can see him fighting against your touch, but it's clearly a losing battle when he so eagerly leans into your hands, mouth parted as heavy breaths wet the skin of your wrist. You bite your lip at the expression on his face, watching as his eyelashes fan over the tops of his cheeks when he nuzzles into your hands, all that faux aggression from before melting off him. Rafayel is hungry for your touch—starved for it, really. It makes your chest burn when you finally realize that he aches for you the way you do him. It’s in the way his entire body can’t help but open up to you, the way he held your hand earlier, the nicknames and the intensity—all of it begins to make sense now.

You duck your head to touch his forehead with yours, smiling slightly when he lets out a breathy little sigh that blows across your face. Eyes open and already watching, you witness the change in his irises when his eyelids lift. The final shift from his human guise to a glimpse of his real one. A blue so clear and bright that it rivals the sky itself glows from within the ring of his irises, the black vertical slits for his pupils growing fat and wide when they lock onto you. It’s surprisingly cute, and it reminds you of how a cat’s pupils expand when it locks onto something they really like.

“Oh Rafayel…you’re so beautiful.” You coo, brushing your nose against his. He visibly looks startled and the comical expression makes you burst into a fit of giggles. You don’t surprise him often, so when you do, it always fills you with a childish kind of delight.

“You think I’m gonna be afraid of you because…what, you’ll hurt me with your claws? Bite me with those teeth of yours? Cut me on the edges of your scales? Rafayel–,” You lean back a bit, biting back a grin when he follows you. Gently, you push him back with the grip you have on his cheeks, lowering your head down to his ears, which have gained a slightly pointed edge. He goes ramrod still when he feels your breath on his ear.

“What you don’t seem to realize,” You murmur against the cartilage, lightly squeezing his face in your hands, “is that I’m not scared of you. How could I be when I can see that you aren’t dangerous to me? There have been plenty of times before where it would’ve been so easy for you to do something. But you haven’t, and that’s why I trust you. That’s why I’ll do anything for you, anything you need me to do.”

“You don’t—you can’t mean that.” He spits, like you can’t feel the restraint in his tense body. Like you don’t see just how much he’s holding himself back. You pull away to stare into his eyes, dragging your thumbs down the flushed skin of his cheeks. God, the look he’s giving you—a fine haze swirling through that brilliant shade of blue; an angry little furrow between his brow as his lips slightly purse into a pout. Sexy and cute all at once, the sight alone makes you want to give him anything and everything he wants ever.

“I mean every single word. Whatever it is that you’re going through, you clearly need my help. Just let me, please? I just wanna make you feel better. Hate seeing you like this.” Slowly, you lower yourself to sit in his lap. He watches you back, and you can see the fight start to leave him, the grip on your wrists loosening their tight hold.

“You don’t even know what’s wrong with me. How can you be so sure that you’ll even help?” He sneers, but he doesn’t stop you when you settle on his lap. You ignore the bulge you can feel pressing against you, sliding one of your hands down to rest on his chest. The grip on your wrist breaks easily, the other falling from your hand soon after.

“Then tell me.” You push yourself even closer, dragging across his lap to settle against him, chest to chest. His hips jerk when you do, his hands falling to your waist as if to stop you. But they just rest there instead, kneading the soft skin held in his slim fingers. 

“Help me understand you, Rafayel. I promise you, all I want to do is help.” There’s a desperate edge in your voice that you can’t hide, the grip you have on his cheek growing tighter as you slightly shake his face. As if you can physically get him to understand that you’re serious—that you’d love nothing more than to serve him. To make that pained grimace disappear.

He stares at you, and you can feel the rapid pounding of his heartbeat through his warm and sweaty chest. Which means that he can feel how fast your heart is racing despite how calm you’re trying to be. And you can see when he finally gives up; the tenseness to his expression going lax in defeat. While you don’t grin in victory, you also don’t bother hiding your happiness.

“You don’t get to run away from me after this. I won’t let you go, even if you beg me to.” He warns, low and serious.

“Don’t you remember what I said earlier?” You retort back, and a quicksilver flash of amusement flickers through his eyes before he ducks his head down. He buries his face in the curve of your neck, and you end up tossing both of your arms over his shoulders in order to sit more comfortably. You run your fingers through the strands of his hair, shivering when you feel his lips gently brush against your pulse point. The coolness of his scales press into your skin, but surprisingly, they don’t cut you.

“...Once a year, the ocean’s tide lowers and pulls in the opposite direction.” His hands slip underneath your hoodie and your t-shirt to touch your bare skin. Your eyelids flutter shut when he rests one of his hands on your stomach, sliding the other around to rub along the small of your back.

“Lemurians grow weak during that time. Vulnerability equals death when you live the way we do. As our body physically weakens…our instincts get stronger in response. Grow so intense that they help us stay alive. Stay safe against those that would use us—those who we don’t consider ours.” You gasp when you feel his teeth nibble on your skin, kicking your hips forward when the hand on your stomach dips lower.

“Around those we feel safest by, those who we can trust, our instincts latch onto that. They fuel our desires and cause them to become almost uncontrollable.” Your heart thumps painfully in your chest. ‘He trusts you. He trusts you so much that he..’ But you have to be sure. You can’t—you need to hear him say it out loud.

“Wh-what do you desire, then? What do you need?” You squirm when his hand stops at the waistband of your sweatpants, his other slowly trailing up your spine; dragging the tips of his nails up each individual knob. 

“...You. I need you so bad that it’s driving me wild. Fuck, but you already feel what you do to me, right?” The laugh he lets out is derisive, but it does nothing to hide the utter desperation coloring his words. The pound of his heart ticks up where his chest is pressed against yours, and the breathing against your throat gets even heavier. You cunt clenches when he admits it. You almost wouldn’t believe it, if not for the fervent kisses he’s placing against your neck. As if a damn breaks, the hands on your skin feel you up with an urgency that causes your veins to flow with an uncontrollable heat.

“Need you so bad right now, cutie, you’ve got no idea. Wanna rip these stupid clothes off and see all of you. I’ve thought about it, you know? What I'd do to you if I had the chance. How pretty you’d scream; how tight and perfect you’d feel wrapped around me.” You shake in his hold, biting your lip when you feel him jerk his hips against you, nails leaving the barest of scratches against your skin as he licks a strip up the side of your throat.

“I’d fill you up so nicely, too. Whatever you wanted—my fingers, my mouth, my cock.  Do anything to make you feel good. Have you come so many times that you’d be thinking of nothing but me the same way I think of nothing but you. Need you, need you, please, need you so bad—”

“You have me, Rafayel. Whatever you need from me it’s yours. I’m yours.” Your voice breaks when he groans into your neck, the sound sending a bolt of heat down your spine as he bucks up even faster against you. You grip his hair in one hand, anchoring the other on his shoulder to get more leverage as you try and match the rhythm of his hips; rutting against his clothed cock. Even through your clothes, you can feel it, and it’s hard to stay focused with the noises his voice is whining at you in your ear.

“Again. Say that—say it again. Please.” 

“I’m yours.”

“Again.”

“I-I’m yours.”

“Again.”

“Rafayel, I’m yours.”

You two gravitate towards each other, foreheads knocked together, breaths mingling as you gaze at one another. The frenzied light in his eyes makes your whole body run hot, and it takes all of your strength to keep that eye contact as you go around and around in circles. Mumbling into each other’s mouths, but never quite kissing, you rock against each other. 

The friction shouldn’t be enough for you; but you’ve wanted him for so long that it feels like you get to that precipice in no time at all. Your eyelids flutter, your mouth drops open and your brows furrow. You’re so close to it, you just need that extra push and you’ll be there, but you can’t seem to find it. The hand in his hair tightens into a fist in your frustration, and you accidentally yank on those fluffy strands when you jerk forward too hard. Rafayel’s eyes squeeze tight as his hips stutter up, a low, broken moan falling from his lips as he leans forward.

“Fuck, fuck, shit—” His whole body shudders, and you can only watch as he comes undone beneath you; satisfaction drowning out your previous frustration. You just made him come. You did that, and you haven’t even gotten your hands on him really. He pants against your mouth, sweat dripping down the side of his face and hands gently rubbing over your skin. You hum at the feeling, nuzzling your nose against his as you pet through his hair, rubbing his shoulder with your other hand.

You watch as his eyes slit open, not at all surprised to see the heat in his eyes burning just as strongly as before. They drop to your mouth, and you don’t even have to think before you move. It hardly takes a lot, but it still feels like something momentous as your lips finally meet.

His lips are soft when you kiss; scorching you to the bone when he molds them to yours. You both moan in each other's mouths, his hands reaching up to cup your face while you pull him in closer by his hair. There’s nothing slow about the way you two kiss. A frenzied passion settles in the air between you, the noises from your lips loud as it echoes out into the quiet air.

Rafayel licks over your bottom lip, and you don’t hesitate to slide it open wider. You meet his tongue with yours, and maybe you should find it gross that it quickly dissolves into a messy and wet affair; spit from both of your mouths sliding down your chin. But you actually like how slutty it makes you feel, the spit drying on your skin only fanning the embers burning low in your gut. 

Soon, though, his lips trail down; teeth scraping against your skin as his fingers fumble with the zipper of your hoodie. You quickly help him unzip it, shrugging it off while he licks and sucks marks into your neck. You instinctively bare more of your throat to him, shivering when his hands waste no time in cupping the heavy sag of your breasts. He’s open-mouth panting into the side of your neck, gently squeezing the soft flesh in his hands before he rubs his thumbs over your nipples. They run over the barbells pierced through them, and you moan when they harden underneath his touch.

He freezes.

He rolls your nipples between his thumbs again, and you can feel his skin get even hotter somehow.

“Off. Your clothes—fuck, I need to see you.” He rasps, letting go of your chest to grab your waist. You nod, and he watches you with lust-blown eyes as you reach down and pull off your shirt. He taps your waist, and without thinking, you leverage yourself up onto your knees. 

“Perfect.” The low inhuman trill he lets out after sighing those words startles you and you jump a bit, but the sound soon leaves your mind when you feel his mouth wrap around one of your nipples. His fingers pinch and roll the other one, his second hand slipping beneath your sweatpants. His long, dexterous fingers glide over your mound before delving into the tight, wet heat of your cunt.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head, nails digging crescents into his shoulder as you rock down on his fingers. The noise you let out is high-pitched and loud, but you don’t have the mind to be shy about how you sound when all you can think about are the things he’s doing to you. The warmth of his mouth as it toys with your nipple; the heat of his hand as it squeezes your breast; the stretch of his fingers as they glide in and out of you, easy and slick from how embarrassingly wet you are. 

“So good, so fucking good, Rafayel–ah!” You tremble when his fingers tug at the little golden barbel piercing glinting in the moonlight, the vibrations from his low moan causing you to squeeze down tightly on his fingers. Tears prick the corners of your eyes as you continue to bounce on his hand, crying out and squeezing your eyes shut when he presses down on the one spot that makes you see stars. The coil forming in your belly is tightening tighter and tighter the faster her fucks his fingers into you, purposefully aiming at the spongey nerve inside of you. That peak you were aiming for earlier is fast approaching, and you’re helpless to stop it from careening into you like a truck.

“You close, pretty girl?” 

“Yeah. M’so close, Rafayel. Please, please—” Your body sways forward and your eyes fall to his mouth. Glossy with spit and red, you have the sudden urge to kiss him. Using the grip you have on his hair, you gently tug him away from your chest. You tilt his head up and lean down, wrapping your arms around his neck as you close your eyes and press your lips together. He kisses back without hesitation, his free hand sliding around to support your back as he drills his fingers in and out of you. You can feel how close you’re getting, how your muscles twitch and spasm, how the heat from your bodies burns you from the inside out. 

“Come on my fingers. C’mon, wanna feel you squeeze around me. Lemme feel it, cutie, I know you’re already there, just need a little more—” You have no idea how he manages it with the awkward angle of his fingers, but you feel a sudden stimulation to your clit and suddenly, you’re gone. Your eyes roll behind your closed lids as tears drip down your cheeks, your body jerking violently in his hold as you cream all over his fingers. Rafayel growls low and deep in his chest, keeping the momentum of his fingers even after it's clear that you’re getting overstimulated.

“Rafa–s’too much, wait…” You shake when his fingers don’t stop, his mouth kissing away the moisture on your face.

“I need to feel you. Please, need to be inside you; need to be in so deep that you never get rid of me.” He begs, and even though your body is still shaking from the aftermath of your orgasm; even though every touch to your throbbing cunt aches; even though you feel like you’re about to float away with all the endorphins rushing through your mind, you easily fold.

He pulls his fingers out of you with a ‘squelch’, quickly maneuvering you until you’re spread out on the floor in front of him, sweatpants tossed off and leaving you completely bare beneath the moonlight streaming in through the open windows. You watch as he quickly undresses himself, eyes trailing down the lean but strong lines of his muscular frame. Your eyes are immediately drawn to the space in between his legs when he drops back to his knees and shuffles towards you. Long and flushed a deep pink, he’s easily the prettiest dick you’ve ever seen. Decently thick with a slight left lean, you know that he’s going to fill you so well—your cunt aches at the thought.

“So pretty…” He mumbles, long fingers sliding underneath your thighs. He lifts them until they rest on his shoulders, spreading your pussy out with one hand while he grips the base of his cock with the other. He leans forward, dragging the length of his cock through the messy wet folds of your cunt. You shake uncontrollably while he coats his dick in your fluids, biting your lip when you feel the soft drag of his balls touch where your ass meets your thigh.

“I’m gonna paint you like this, one day. Capture how perfect you look; spread out and waiting for me to fuck you. To fill you with me.  You’re mine for life and forever beyond that. Gonna make it so that you’re never whole without me; so that you’re never full if I’m not next to you. M’never gonna let you go now, cutie. But, I think you already know that, yea?” The way he’s staring at you has you reaching out for him; something he easily gives you when he bends down and lets you hook your hands around his neck, your legs falling to either side of his hips.

“You gonna keep me? Split me open and fill me with you?” Your voice is barely above a whisper, your eyes half-lidded and your body aching. But you love the feeling it leaves you with; love the hungry, desperate look in Rafayel’s eyes as he ruts his cock against your cunt. Your breaths mix as he brushes his nose against yours, placing a gentle peck to the corner of your eye.

“Y-yeah. Yeah, I’m gonna give you whatever you want. Everything that you want.” He promises, before raising himself slightly. Chest heaving, you train your eyes back down and watch as he uses your slick to coat himself with the hand on his cock, groaning low in his chest when he squeezes the sensitive skin of his head on the upstroke. He angles the tip down, and you feel the insane amount of heat emanating from his dick right before it pierces you. Your entire body trembles in shock as you take him in. Despite being loose from your orgasm, you still find it to be a bit of stretch to fit his girth inside of you. Your mouth drops open in a silent wheeze as that empty feeling inside of you is slowly filled by every inch you take.

Rafayel isn't faring much better above you, sweat dripping down the sculpted planes of his chest as he pants for air, the red flush traveling down his shoulders to his pecs. His eyes are wide opened and locked onto the space where you two are connected, one hand still guiding his shaft, the other digging into the meat of your thigh.

Before long, you feel him bottom out. A hurt little sound punches out of your chest when you feel the tip bump into your cervix. Your hands are scratching at Rafayel’s back, whimpering cries leaving your mouth as he leans back over you. His mouth is slack, eyes hazy and cloudy as his hands fold you over until your feet dangle by your ears. You can barely breath in that position, but the deeper his cock goes more than makes up for it.

The time for words is long gone, evident by the way Rafayel just begins thrusting into you without waiting any longer. Folded in half as you are, all you can do is lie there and take the brutal and sharp jerks of his hips; the sound of your wet skin slapping against his as it echoes out into the otherwise silent room. The only thing you hear is his voice—continuously mumbling out desperate little pleas and praises that you can just barely hear above the blood rushing to your ears. Your own voice comes out as no more than a breathy wheeze from the angle you're positioned at.

You can barely think past the rhythmic clap of his thighs against your ass, eyes blank and glossy. Nothing else matters at that moment; nothing but the stretch of his cock bullying your cunt open; the sharp hit against your cervix that make your cunt clench even tighter; the whimpering, guttural moans of his echoing in your ears; the bruising grip he has on your thighs, nails drawing bloody crescents into your skin; the overwhelming pleasure as becoming one with Rafayel, getting as physically close as two people can possibly get. You barely even notice when Rafayel suddenly sinks his teeth into your neck; you do notice the searing pain that begins to form where he bit, however, and you cry out. The pain and pleasure of it all mixes into an intoxicating blend. It becomes your favorite taste when Rafayel’s scales litter your shoulders and chest with cuts, the nails on his fingers doing much the same to the backs of your thighs.

Rafayel moans into the skin of your neck where his teeth are still buried, the pace of his thrusts speeding up so quickly that you realize what’s about to happen. The thought of him coming inside of you brings you back to your senses, and your hands weakly begin to pull him in even closer. You need to feel him release inside of you; need it so badly you could cry. 

You don’t have the breath to plead any longer, but Rafayel seems to just know anyway, because he easily scoops you up, settling in between your legs and pressing you flat to the floor. Your shaking thighs wrap around his waist, and he comes exactly like that; smothering you with the bulk of his body as he marks you on the outside and the inside. Your own orgasm follows, and you come with a hoarse whimper.

Your cunt pulses around his spent cock, and though you can hear the tiny little whines he lets out around the teeth buried in your neck, he refuses to pull out. If anything, he gently rocks his hips against you, as if encouraging your pussy in her plight to milk him dry. Sweat cools sticky against your skin, and you feel the edges of unconsciousness tickle your mind. Before you can fight against it, you find that it already has you under and you lose yourself to the warm, dark embrace of sleep as Rafayel cradles you close; a low, rhythmic humming vibrating his chest.

[unluckilyimnot]

hiîi, can you write bllk chara tera introducing their gf to the press or the press somehow finding you that the players have a gf

idk if this makes sense but pleaseee write it I love your blog sm <3

The press found out about their relationship - Rin, Sae, Kaiser, Isagi, Karasu

m.list | rules

Note : hii ! Thank you sm for your request! I take some times to go through some of my requests before writing with another media I'm really into rn, sorry some will wait a bit mor

Same as the others ! There wasn't anyone mentioned but don't hesitate to ask for your fav if you want ♡

Rin

He's not fan of it

I guess he adapted to it quickly, you being bring on a lot the first few weeks and things like that

But he's so tensed about it you have to calm him down a lot at first

He's upset all the time You have to remind him that's it's not only a bad things

And that people's reactions has been relatively good, that's already a good point

He's more worried about you obviously but in the end you're the one taking care of him

He feels a bit bad but yeah, he appreciates it a lot

Don't expect a lot of changes tho, he doesn't want his love life all over the internet

Sae

He's annoyed when the press found out, to say the least

He wish it could've stay private and doesn't want people to be after you

He hates the fact that he's ask about it now and has to be even more cold in interview than before

He tries to be unbothered but knowing how it changed your life it's impossible

Behind closed door at first he can spend a lot of time with you so make it up

He's famous so I think people tried to know more about you and invade your personal space

I don't think it necessarily goes wrong on social media, it's just trending a lot for a few days

You have to moderate your account a lot cause there's always hater

He still doesn't talk about you bc you asked him to

but he feel less pressure if some pictures of you two end up in the internet

Kaiser

He's ANGRY

Don't get it wrong, he thought about revealing your relationship a few times and you were still talking about it

But this happening without his consent or yours drive him crazy at first

Yet on camera he's cocky about it, telling he doesn't mind and rumbling about how gorgeous you are

He takes the opportunity as it is and posy about you more on his social media, without hiding you so much

He has his lawer ready to anyone spitting shit at you on social media tho

Don't mess with his s/o, he'll take actions

Isagi

He's lost poor guy

If you cry about it he does his absolute best to comfort you before contacting his agent to see what he can do

Honestly He's use to it but if you're not used to the fame, he's careful so your anxiety don't go crazy

He's sad if that change your life a lot but he does his best to not change a thing in your routine

The good point is that, like Kaiser, he can pray a lot more with you than before and he's really happy about it !!

He likes to share with people I think so it open a lot of doors

Karasu

He acts cool in front of the camera but he's annoyed

It was early in your relationship and he's scared it's gonna fucked it up

You have to be the one comforting him

You're not the type to make promises if you're not sure of yourself, but you assure him that the press and people finding out didn't scared you

You'll stay with him as long as possible, you don't see yourself leaving because of this

He's probably needed this more than he would've admit cause after this, being on camera is easier again

He's not upset anymore if they ask about you since you gave him a green light

He feels even lighter than before, in fact

[eepwriting]

Baby idk if you still take requests but I'll really appreciate you writing fem Reader in sundress and Vessel fucking her in it. And a LOT of worshipping and praises, aslo a little breeding kink yk ...

(Sorry if i had any grammar issues, English isn't my first language! And you're my favorite blog. I love u sm and take care 🎀

Picnic ✶ Vessel x Fem! Reader

Warnings: nsfw, smut, fingering (f receiving), public sex (technically), breeding kink

EEK I LOVE THIS thank you anon!!! Also never apologize for grammar, you did great 🩷

!! mdni !!

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“I should’ve never let you leave the house like that.”

It’s about the fifth time he’s said since you stepped out the door. Once as you were leaving, twice in the car, third as the two of you unloaded the car, fourth as he walks behind you towards your destination, and fifth, now as your sat on the blanket. You just shake your head and hand him the container of fruit, “No matter how many times you say that, it’s doesn’t change anything.” You laugh. He grumbles, whispering something under his breath you don’t quite catch.

You had somewhat anticipated this kind of behavior the second you put the dress on. The soft, flowing fabric hugs everywhere it needs to, accentuating all your curves, cups your tits perfectly. The slit up the thigh was a bit of a surprise-you must’ve forgot about that detail when ordering, but you couldn’t deny that you looked and felt good in the dress.

Vessel is waiting for you in the room, something he always did when you got ready. Always excited to see your outfit, how you decided to do your hair that day, if you changed anything about your makeup. “This is new..shit.” He’s sat on the bed, his hands gripping your waist, turning you side to side, around in a circle. You laugh softly, noticing how quickly his eyes move over you, how long they pause on certain areas. “You can’t leave the house like this..not unless you wanna get fucked out in public.” He says the last part quietly, hands massaging over your ass. You scoff and push his shoulder playfully, stepping away from his wandering hands. “Yeah, okay. Whatever you say,” he gets up to follow you out of the room, “I’m wearing it. It’s cute, no?” “It’s…something.” He could have passed as a lost puppy, following you around the house, stuck to you, pouting when you don’t give him the attention he’s desperately asking for.

The dress was apparently “something” that turned him into a needy mess. Has him huffing and grumbling at you as he arranges the spread of food you brought.

The weather was perfect. Sunny with a warm breeze. Grass a luscious green, wildflowers blooming, birds chirping, a few clouds dotting the sky. It’s surprisingly quiet out, with only a few people littering the park, far from the secluded corner you’re set up in. Fresh fruit and veggies, bite sized sandwiches, fresh baked pastries and homemade lemonade get picked over by the two of you. Steady and casual conversation flow between you and Vessel, who’s seemed to calm down a bit. He still ogles you every chance he gets but keeps his hands to himself.

It’s nice to just sit with him. You welcome the lulls in conversation, basking in the sunshine, listening to the ruffling leaves in the wind, the calm sounds of nature. It’s during one of the quiet moments that you hear a camera shutter. You open an eye to peak at Vessel, who’s lowering his phone. He smiles at the screen, turning the phone towards you, “You look so pretty, my love.” The photo he’s taken shows you sat, head turned up the sky looking perfectly content. Your hair’s blowing in the breeze, your skin shining in the sun. You smile shyly, shifting to sit on your knees. “Thank you.” He meets your forward lean, pecking your lips. “C’mere.” He cocks his head to side, outstretching his legs for you to sit in between. His arms wrap around you when you get situated and buries his face in the crook of your neck. He inhales deeply, humming at the smell of his favorite fragrance, the one you only wear every so often. He’s quiet for a short while, absentmindedly tapping his fingers on your rib cage. You could almost fall asleep on him until he’s back to wanting your attention.

“Can’t believe you dragged me all the way out here for a picnic. When all I can think about is splaying you out on this blanket and pumping you full.” He punctuates his sentence with a kiss on your neck, moving his hands to unabashedly grope your chest. You let out a surprised gasp, swatting at his hand, “Vess-there’s people around.” He scoffs, “Wrong. Trust me, I’ve been watching. Was waiting for those people to leave.” His calloused fingers slip into the cups of your dress to tweak your nipples. His other hand busies itself on your leg, toying with the slit of your dress before finding its way in between your thighs. “Just let me make you feel good, please,” he runs his nose up the side of your neck, his mouth stopping right next to your ear, “wanna see you all wreaked and blissed out in this pretty little outfit of yours.” He roughly cups a hand over your pussy and it has you clenching your thighs around his hand. “Are you..sure? What if-.” His hand abandons your chest to grip your chin, tilting your head up and back to look at him. “Shhh,” he kisses you, “just spread your legs for me, lemme feel that perfect pussy.” His mouth is back on yours, swallowing your groan when he slips his fingers into your panties.

He grunts at your wetness on his fingers and pulls you tighter to his chest with an arm around your middle. His rough hands feel delicious on your aching skin, fingers massaging circles over clit for a short while before he eases two inside. “Shit, love, can’t wait to get my cock in you,” he speaks against your lips, “always so warm and wet for me, aren’t you?” You mewl and shyly nod, arching your back against him. “Can’t..can’t believe I’m letting you do this right now..” you moan when he curls his fingers. He laughs lightly, “You love it.”

He continues his pleasant torture of circling your clit, then plunging two fingers in until your clawing at his thighs, quietly gasping for release. He gets you there and keeps you buzzing. Slowing his pace but never stopping until you’re desperately trying to shift away from him. He gives you little to no time after, manhandling you to lay on your side, slotting himself behind you. You hear the clink of his belt being undone by impatient hands. Vessel breathes quickly, wrapping a big hand around your thigh, holding your legs open. You squirm when he runs the length of cock over your pussy, coating it in your slick. He doesn’t try to hide how much he loves the noises you make, bumping your sensitive clit with the head of his cock repeatedly just to hear you whine. “Vess..please,” you try to wiggle your hips back, “just fuck me already.”

That makes him snap and do just that. His cock slips in easily and he sighs over you when his hips are flush against your ass. He stays there for a minute, grinding against you. You turn your head back to watch him. His eyes are shut and his brows are furrowed, a thin sheet of sweat on his forehead. His eyes open to look down at you and he lets go of your leg, opting to cradle your cheek. His eyes scan your face as he pulls his hips back slowly, easing back in when just the head of his cock remains inside you. He smirks when your eyes screw shut, “Y’feel so good wrapped around my cock, darling,” he groans and quickens his thrusts, “always feel s’good.” He leans down to press his lips to yours, licking into your mouth. You feel his hand move to your lower stomach and press down. Your breath hitches each time he bottoms out, the pressure of his hand makes you pull away from him to gasp. “Good girl. I know..” he kisses your temple, “gonna cum soon, can I cum inside?” He whines, just the thought alone makes him greedy, has him digging the tips of his fingers into your skin. You’re not surprised how quickly he’s hit the brink, he has been hard for the past hour. “Hm, please-wanna fill you full..keep thinking about you-in this dress, tummy full of our baby…fuck.” His forehead rests against your temple and he’s whining in your ear, sloppily bullying his cock inside you. “Such a pretty mommy.” He can barely get the words out before he’s grunting and spilling his cum in you. He’s wrapped around you, grinding against your ass like he’d never get to fuck you again. He stays inside, fucking his cum up in you as far as he can, despite your overworked whimpers.

Eventually he lets up, pulling out of you slowly. “I’m sorry,” Vessel seems somewhat bashful now, “Something about this stupid dress.” He blushes.

You laugh, “Well, I kinda wore it for a reason..” you smile slyly. He shakes his head with a smile on his face, “I’m so glad you enjoyed watching me suffer.” He jokes and playfully rolls his eyes.

The two of you help the other straighten up, smoothing down the other’s hair, picking grass off your clothes. You finish packing up the last of your belongings, standing to shake off the blanket, “Well, let’s go home and we can try again.” You’re somewhat serious but you swear you’ve never seen him move faster. He grabs your hand, drags you back to car, clearly ready to get you home, where he can do whatever he pleases-this time, away from any potential prying eyes.

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I’ve had this request in my inbox for a HOT minute, but I thought about all the time just so you know anon.

K. Bye bye.

[cheol-e-kat]

Hiii, I just wanted to start by saying that I recently found your blog and am in love! <3 <3 For your special 3-3-3 bingo I wanted to ask for bodyguard with drunk confession and brave x Scaredy cat, NSFW is praise kink with Seungcheol? Like maybe her dad hired him, they're at a gathering and something goes wrong or she's scared so he has to take her back at her parents place, where she drunk confession? But if you have any better ideas, which I think you may have seeing from your writing, then just change it, I don't mind at all! <3

I hope you have a great day and keep writing, you're so amazing at it!

first, omggg anon you're too sweet & i'm so glad you like my writing ㅤ♡ㅤ♡ㅤ♡ weirdly i have had this banner hanging around and idk it seems like it fits your ask, soooo anyway let's see if i can come up with something you like - oh but i think i failed a little on 'scaredy cat', oops

♡ kat

bingo squares: bodyguard + drunk confession + brave x scardey cat + praise kink

Pairing: choi seungcheol / f!reader

summary:  y/n has had a bodyguard for some time - and she’s had feelings for him for almost just as long, even if he thinks she’s a brat. But what happens when he goes to a party with her and there’s gunshots?

word count:  1.4 k

genre: fake dating, bodyguard!seungcheol, forced proximity, 

Rating: 18+, MDNI, explicit

Warnings: mentions of guns and shooting, drinking, penetrative sex, explicit language

“so how much is my dad paying you to babysit me?” y/n asked, sipping her drink.

he shrugged, “enough to put up with you,” he sipped his mineral water. 

she arched a brow, “‘put up with me’?” she asked, incredulous, “me? i’m the problem in this equation?”

he pursed his lips, as though he were giving consideration to what she had asked, “you’re…” he trailed off. 

she was ready to punch him in the arm.

he smiled, “you’re more complicated than the kinds of jobs i usually have,” he swigged his mineral water like it would give him some reprieve from the conversation.

she gave a heavy sigh, “complicated how exactly?”

he glanced at her, “you’re kidding, right? where are we right now?” he waved his hand around to demonstrate the location, “you’ve brought me along as your ‘date’ to some friend’s engagement party - never have i ever had that happen before,” he whispered, with a small smile, knowing he had gotten under your skin by pointing out the situation.

“look, if i can’t leave the house without you, why not put you to good use?” she pouted. 

“my ‘good use’ is making sure you don’t get hurt, y/n.”

he had at least stopped calling her by her family name, which had been acutely obnoxious - to her anyway. he’d been virtually living with her for eight months. to her, living with anyone for eight months, meant dispensing with formalities. 

not to mention she had seen him in his underwear. she had been up late grabbing some water and staring into her fridge, thinking about a snack, but she had been eating healthy at the time, which meant she was light on snacks. so she had gone scrounging - and she screamed when she thought she saw a mouse. 

and her screaming meant seungcheol came out of his room to check on her, wearing boxerbriefs and carrying a handgun, which was oddly sexy. 

also, she had pegged him as a ‘boxers-only’ guy. but no, she had definitely gotten a very good idea of what equipment he was packing and the mental picture of his very perky ass seared into her brain. 

she glanced at him, knowing he looked painfully good in the suit he had picked - it went along with her outfit well. 

“you could have just stayed home then, or you could have outed me to everyone here - you certainly know enough about me to make them all at least call me ‘eccentric’,” she leaned on the railing, looking out over the massive party. 

everyone was ‘someone’ or related to ‘someone’. and she was mostly just bored. if seungcheol weren’t there, she would have probably been a nuisance just for fun, reminding the groom that he had slept with half the bridesmaids. something like that anyway. 

but no, for some reason she felt like if she caused even just a tiny scene while he was there, then maybe he would get blamed, or he would go back to thinking she was childish. 

that’s what he had called her initially, a “bored, childish, rich girl” with no clue about the real world. he said it so vehemently that she had slammed her door in his face, and told him to fuck off when he tried to apologize. 

she hadn’t talked to him for a week - she would only communicate via text, even if they were in the same room and alone. which may have proved his point, but he had hurt her feelings. and maybe she had been feeling petty. 

she stole a glance at him - she liked his profile more than she should. she probably liked him more than she should, not just his profile. she liked everything about him. but she was fairly certain he still considered her a tolerable idiot, at best.

which depressed her. and required that she grab another drink from the waiter who came around. maybe several more. and when she was a bit more lubricated and still considering making some trouble, the thin thread of seungcheol approving of her maybe wasn’t quite enough to tether her to reality. 

if anything, it was almost better if she just settled for his disapproval, she reasoned, then she wasn’t chasing some fragile illusion. 

she must have been on the verge of something great though because he suddenly grabbed her and pulled her towards a door. she had no idea where they were headed - they went through offices until they hit a stairwell. she couldn’t have been doing anything so offensive that they were taking the stairs. but when she pulled out of his grip, he was quick to grab her back. 

“for once, just do what i’m asking without arguing,” he said, voice low and sharp. 

she tried to pull away, but he had her in a vice-like grip. and then she heard the sounds - gun shots. and she was frozen for a moment, but she felt the tug on her wrist. seungcheol pulling her, trying to keep her safe. she stopped to pull off her heels and then she was running with him. 

her head swam violently as they exited out into the underground car park. until he grabbed her waist and pulled her close, kissing her, backing her into a wall. she felt the rough cement against her naked shoulders, as his hands rushed to touch her and his mouth rushed equally to kiss her. she wound her fingers in his hair, pulling him close, not caring how needy and desperate she seemed. 

it took several, long minutes for him to break their kiss. he pulled away so slowly, his fingers still gingerly resting on her skin. she watched him for a moment, and she could see it - if she didn’t pull him back, he would talk himself out of it and make an even higher wall between them. 

“don’t stop, seungcheol, you don’t know how much i want you,” she whispered, voice tender and urgent. 

he stayed close, but glanced at the door they had just come through, “we need to go,” he whispered, his fingers still played gently across her skin. 

she didn’t budge. 

“y/n,” he stared, “this - we have to leave,” he stepped closer to her, pressing his body flush against hers, “let’s go home?” he asked softly.

she finally nodded, following him out to the street, walking down a few blocks before grabbing a cab. he didn’t give the driver her exact address. they took a winding way back to her house, going through the back gate and the side door. he didn’t let go of her hand, not even when they were inside, the doors locked and the alarms set. 

he kept her close. when she started to turn on the lights, he stopped her - his hand grasping hers gently and pulling it away from the light switches. 

and suddenly he was near again, pulling her close, kissing her softly, “come put me to bed?” she asked in a hurried whisper. 

he nodded, “anything you want, princess.”

she loved that they both rushed to undress one another, all just to feel skin on skin. he pushed her back gently onto the bed - his fingertips grazed gently against her thigh, as he looked at her. 

“so perfect for me,” he murmured, “so beautiful.”

she flushed brightly, reaching for him, “need you,” she pouted.

he nodded, with a smirk, “i know.”

she bit her lip softly, “we were having a moment,” she caught his hand and pulled him down roughly to join her on the bed. she moved so she straddled his hips - she pressed her hands flat on his stomach, loving his smooth skin. 

she stared at him before leaning down, she kissed him gently, “you’re perfect too, gorgeous, even,” she breathed against his lips, “you’re all i want, all i think about.”

she kissed him again, leaning forward, and reaching down between them, pumping his already hard cock, she lined it up with her dripping pussy and pressed herself back, taking him all the way in.

she moaned against his lips. she sat up slowly, adjusting to the stretch and the feeling of being so full. she rolled her hips slowly before she started riding him the way she had imagined a thousand times. 

she could hear him, the way he breathed hard and urged her own. his hands tracing over her stomach and hips, reaching up for her breasts. 

she didn’t care when they changed positions - when he was behind her, fucking into her, pulling her back towards him, she knew she was arching back towards him. and she came undone, falling back against him - his orgasm following hers - his cum filling her, dripping down her thighs. she gasped softly as they came apart. he pulled her close, falling back onto the bed. 

“please don’t leave,” she whispered into the soft darkness. 

soooo, dearest anon, i hope this is as good as you wanted it to be...it maybe got a little more serious than i meant, but oh well - here we are

♡ kat

if you want to submit a bingo request:

bingo v. 1 ⋆.˚ bingo v. 2 ⋆.˚ bingo v. 3 ⋆.˚ bingo v. 4 ⋆.˚ 333 followers bingo ⋆.˚ monster themed bingo ⋆.˚

♡ bingo reqs master list

♡ seungcheol: knotting + marking || professor (prof. choi, pt. 1) || monster || spanking (neighbor seungcheol) || big dick + hate sex || forced masturbastion (prof. choi, pt ii) || voyeurism + punishment || coffee shop au + forbidden relationship (untitled alpha!!cheol pt. 1) ||

♡ mingyu: lingerie + praise kink || bed sharing + big dick || praise + worship kink || vehicle sex + oral fixation || drunk pda + no underwear || enemies to lovers + tentacles ||

♡ seungcheol & mingyu threesome: oral ||

⋆.˚ my [master list] if you want to read more

⋆.˚ if you want to be tagged in my posts, go [here]

[ taglist ] ☁︎ @syluslittlecrows [e] ☁︎ @gyuguys [e] ☁︎ @tinyelfperson [e] ☁︎ @unlikelysublimekryptonite [e] ☁︎ @livelaughloveseventeen [e] ☁︎ @codeinebelle [e] ☁︎ @ateez-atiny380 [e] ☁︎ @mingcouper [e] ☁︎ @hanniebub [e] ☁︎@perfectiondazesworld [e] ☁︎ @haik-chu [e - o/m] ☁︎ @gigglensnort [e - o/m/priv]

[singukieee]

—my all time favourite bts fics (pt. 2) ᯓᡣ𐭩

consists of my personal favourite bts fics that I've read countless of times. including those from other platforms, such as Wattpad, AO3, and Patreon.

For some works that are cross-posted between tumblr and wp/ao3, I'd only link them to the latters bcs I find it easier to read and navigate the stories on those. but I also tagged all the authors I know are here and linked the rest so you can check their blogs out yourself!

I'll also separate this list into several parts simply because there's too many... So it'd be easier for you guys to navigate!

red means unfinished

blue means finished

🗯️ curator's note

(sorted by alphabetical order)

Dreams of You by seoktishie

You are a theater actress who dreams of becoming a successful Broadway star. You’ve dedicated your whole life hustling for the show, surrounded by a supportive family and friends you never thought you would lose your best friend and boyfriend on the same day. This puts your dreams to a halt, and you decide to take a break and a soul-searching trip to Korea, where you meet a successful artist that reconnects your love for the arts. OR You accidentally meet Kim Namjoon of BTS, and you had no idea of how an amazing person he is nor how he is the leader of the biggest boyband to date!

🗯️ the yearning and pining *chef's kiss*

Epiphany by 2stanornot2stan

Your soulmate mark seemed self-centred to you "I'm the one I should love" Who would ever want to love someone with that as their soulmate mark?

🗯️ this one is painful. but writing's so good, doesn't fail in pulling my heartstrings.

Escapade by bonnehh_

"Where the hell am I?!" He shrieked, stumbling over his feet like a newborn deer. He was a panicking mess, spinning around in circles to see the unfamiliar sight of giant trees and bushy plants covering the land. The forest was heavily rich with greenery, vegetation and strange fruits. Fallen leaves covered the ground, creating a crunching sound after every step he took. "Calm down, Sweets." I calmly voiced amidst his loud screeches. My words cut through his mess of a mind making him freeze on his spot. Turning on his heel, he noticed me. He stumbled back immediately, possibly because I was covered in angry, red scratches and the bandages covering my arms alerted the male. "What the fudge?!!?! Who- who are you??" He shouted, alarmed by my…seemingly beaten-up figure. "I'm Diana. Welcome to the game." I smiled softly. Hoping my excitement can keep a hold of itself for the sake of keeping the man from getting scared. Dumbfounded, He could only let one word out, "Huh?". Oh boy.

🗯️ a cool one! many adventures and mc has freakishly good survival skills. this honestly cured my longing for that one fic that's no more that was also survival, adventure and game themed with slight crack. I think it was called 'Ready Player One'? (not that famous book and movie). but I think it was a translated ver of a chinese ff on another platform. Idk I still missed it very much, it was also very good. (If you know anything abt this, pls dm me!)

Ethereal by @purpleyoonn

After leaving your home in need of a fresh start, you open a bookstore with the hopes that the words you read could bring you solace. You never realized that the books you loved would bring you home instead.

🗯️ I love soulmate stories, this author also has good writing so

Euphoric Endeavours by haveagreatday

Through a series of curious happenstances, the Boys of Bangtan - your campus' most popular and most handsome group of individuals - set their sights on you, a regular student with a stubborn streak and a wayward mouth. Strangely enough, the mere sight of them sets your instincts off, red-lights flashing in your brain - danger, danger, danger, danger. It's too bad that they can't seem to leave you alone, though. They like you too much.

🗯️ enemies to lovers, anyone?

Everything Falls (Into Place) by Hiromi_20 / @blog-name-idk

"I… I might know someone who has a spare room," your brother finally muttered hesitantly. You perked up from where the couch had been swallowing you. "What! And you didn't tell me?" You accused. "You'd be living with a bunch of dudes." "Oh my god Jackson," you groaned, rolling your eyes. "The fact that you're even suggesting them means that you know them all and they're good people, right? It's not like they're gonna murder me and hide my body in the walls or something." "Well, yeah, but…" "But WHAT?" you almost screamed in frustration. "They're all… hot." Silence for several moments. Then you started guffawing uncontrollably, unladylike snorts escaping from your lips. "You are such a dork," you gasped between laughs, tears coming to your eyes. "If I promise not to let them gangbang me, will you please ask?"

🗯️ another really well-written crack fic! goshhh this one's so goood! this one's the real friends to lovers, gosh the pining is just *chef's kiss*

Finding My Pack by @untaemedqueen (paid on Patreon but so worth it)

In which an all-alpha pack unexpectedly found their mate isolated in a sterile room. So the only right thing would be to pamper and love her to make up for all those years she spent alone and lonely.

🗯️ spicyy 🥵 but also cute. I love protective mates

Flaw in The System by Strayberry_

She has 8 moons on her wrist. So do they.

🗯️ honestly Idk what to say about this one. just prepare your tissues for this family of misfits that fit so well together.

Full House by fillomina

Y/N has a steady job and lives alone, that is, until she tags along with her friend to the shelter. Jimin, Hobi, and Yoongi have been waiting to get adopted, and their chance has finally arrived. With the small hybrid pack now living with Y/N, her life never has a dull moment. As Y/N gets used to her new family, she also begins learning more about old friends, making new ones, and getting a very full house.

🗯️ I'd say that I don't like the fact that yn's kinda treated as a doormat at some parts, but it's still good and quite well-written found family fic.

Getting Back Into The Swing of Things by @jellifysh

Hearing her voice now, Namjoon was reminded of the times when she was all he had. How she was his everything, supported him with everything she had, even if it meant giving him the shirt off her back. "Joon?" Y/n sniffled. "I know it sounds crazy, you don't even have to, its been years," "No," Namjoon was agreeing before he could even think, before he could even remember the other people who lived in the house just the next room over. "No, its okay, I mean, we promised each other right? We'd never turn our backs on each other?" "You can stay with us, it'll be fine I promise, I'll handle everything, don't worry at all, it'll be great! Like, old times, okay?" Namjoon was tripping over his words now, he just felt like if he didn't see her now, he would be too late for… something. What, he wasn't sure, but there was an urgent need to have her home safe.

🗯️ just re-read this one again literally yesterday, still as good as the first time. I love strangers to friends to lovers.

Her by untouchablerave

The question hangs between you, and you’re desperate to ask it. Usually, you don’t mind much who is on the other end of the appointment, as you’re so focused on a list of kinks, trying to map out a scene in your head, but this time, the ‘who’ is all you can focus on. Your boss looks at you. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this but… do you know BTS?” Your head snaps up in shock. “You’re fucking with me,” you gasp. “I’m dead serious,” your boss replies. “Jeon Jungkook just came of age. He wants to lose it right away.”

🗯️ spicy but soft soft softtt

Hidden Marks series by Havenesa

❶ Hidden Marks

What does it mean to be soulmates? What do I love about her? What is the reason? Does there need to be a rational reason to love someone? Maybe I love her amber eyes, or the way she tries to hide her smile whenever we get into playful arguments, or her love for just living. Maybe I just love her because she is simply just Han Sera.

🗯️ This one's so angsty yet so good, the writing's also so good at making the characters so human that I'd always end up sobbing at every re-read.

❷ Connecting Hearts

What defines a soulmate? Is it the mark that you were born with, only shared with a selected few? Or a bond which was created through pain and suffering? You'll have to read to find out.

Highlight by Alphathyx

Hana attends Atlas Academy of Arts also known as the AAA to pursue her passions in Hiphop with best friend Hoseok and Prince Charming Jimin. The school gets selected along with other arts schools to compete in an inter-school competition which prize could open doors to any arts students dreams. She along with seven boys, discover what it means to love, but a tragic incident spirals the competition and them into a mystery no one saw coming.

🗯️ friendship and struggle to success <3

Hotel California by Deliebre

You are a badass business guru that works for a huge gaming company. Your home is Korea but you travel often. You are in California for work but keep bumping into hot Korean men, which makes you want to do more than bumping...

🗯️ immediate connection... yes please!

In The Dark by BearPawBeach

"How can that be? I am looking right at you. I am speaking to you right now." "That's the thing. I don't know! That's why I came here today. Yesterday, when you laughed at me, you laughed at me. I almost didn't believe it myself, but the more I thought about it, the crazier it sounded. So I came here to see you and to know if you can see me!" she blurted out. He could not believe the words that were coming out of her mouth. "Look, you don't need to lie to me. There is no need to make up some crazy excuse to meet someone." "I'm not lying! I really am invisible," she argued back. The man just threw his hands up to concede and turned to walk away from her again, walking right out of the building. The girl followed in hot pursuit. "Do you really not believe me? Why would I make something like that up? Yes, I know it sounds crazy. If I were you, I would probably think it's nuts too, but I am telling you the truth!"

🗯️ mc is invisible in this one, story's kinda sad and cute!

In Your Roots by sweetinsanityy

Jungkook is the perfect alpha, a little too perfect. Being the youngest in Bangtan, a group full of alpha's, friction has been happening between him and the boys. He's too strong, too dominating, too wild, and too much for Bangtan to handle. The perfect solution? An omega just for himself. You happen to be the perfect candidate. But the other boys want a taste of you as well. Or, you're hired to be an omega for Jungkook to take care of, and maybe he and the rest of the boys get too attached.

🗯️ another one about the boys being absolute simps!

Iridescent Love by @imnotlauriane

From a fated meeting to a life filled with wonders, the path of discovery is much, much harder than what I had prepared myself for. Especially when my identity, the only one I knew of ends up being a total lie.

🗯️ sad... but it got better. and what did I say abt imnotlauriane's stories? they're all good!

It's a Little Complex? by Infired_Mochi

Starting college and moving into a new apartment with complete independence has been your goal. Due to all the hard work at the cafe during your high school years, and your parents pitching in a few dollars, you can afford to stay in the apartment that is just the right size. However, did you get more than you bargained for? A few other college students occupy the rooms next to yours, seven to be exact. Eight rooms reside on the third floor of the apartment complex and yours is on the farthest right wing, apartment number 308. Just wait until you meet them.

🗯️ sooo it's a little complex... just read it!

Late Bloomer by basicwitch13

Despite growing up in a wolf pack, you were never able to shift nor had a second gender present itself. It seemed, by all accounts, that you were a typical human. So you carried on, burying yourself in your work as a sociology professor—until one of your students introduces you to his pack and changes everything.

🗯️ yes to yearning, pining, and healing.

Like Crazy by @euphoricfilter

The story of seven loves across eight lives.

🗯️ so freakin well-written

Little Do You Know... by @yoongiofmine

In a world where idols and actors can’t date, whether it be because of contracts, lack of time, or the dangers that involve having your personal life leaked, the market opened up for a new work field. Playmate Agencies emerged to supply the entertainment world with highly trained companions for hire. Bangtan is looking for new playmates. And you just happen to be the one all of them choose.

🗯️ another idk what to sayy, just read bcs it's so gooood.

Magic Shop by AriZedd

In which Yn is meeting new friends (and an old one) getting charmed day by day.

🗯️ just read this crack fic, strangers to friends to ... I'm obsessed.

PART 1 | PART 3 | PART 4 | NAVI

[anon-188]

Hellloo! I love your blog and I'm so happy someone else appreciates the love for AJ as much as I do 🤍

Is it okay to ask for a little bit of sad/angst.. Where maybe reader has been in not so great relationship before, which AJ knows about, with a lot of jealousy and yelling, and some stupid fight picks up between reader and AJ and it escalates.. So reader maybe gets a little scared or falls back into the less confident version.. And AJ immediately picks up on it but he can't take back how he already acted? Idk, some idea but I would love for some kind of angst, drama, and in the end it's all good and fluffy?

Lots of love 🤍

pairing: AJ x f!reader | genre: angst ❤️‍🩹 | wc: 2.5k

warnings: emotional hurt/comfort, past toxic relationship (verbal/emotional abuse implied), argument escalation, raised voices, trauma response, crying, and soft post-angst fluff.

a/n: hii! :)) thank you so much for requesting this!! <3 i hope you like it 🤍🤍

The past week had gone by slower than expected, each day dragging a little more than the last. But it was finally the weekend, and you were more than ready for it. You and AJ had made plans for a night in, a proper date night tomorrow evening. Something simple, normal.

He’d been busy lately, buried in calls and late meet-ups with the crew. Something had fallen through with a plan—he didn’t say much, just enough for you to know it wasn’t good. You didn’t fully understand what it meant, but what you did know was that AJ was stressed, more than he let on, and had been for days.

So of course you were looking forward to tomorrow. Not just for the time with him, but for the chance to let him breathe. To pull him out of his head, even if only for a night.

Tonight, you were getting things ready. Running errands. Picking up everything you needed to cook. You went over your list—probably one too many times—but that didn’t stop the smile on your lips as you placed the items on the belt at checkout.

When you got home, you put everything away quickly. Groceries were tucked into their spots with barely a thought. Afterward, you paused in the kitchen for a beat, trying to figure out how to kill the rest of the time. With AJ being so busy, it was hard to tell when he’d actually be home.

Over the next few hours, you tidied up here and there, ran through your nightly routine a little earlier than usual, and eventually made your way to the couch. You threw on a show, volume low, just as the last of the sunlight faded out of the living room.

The door opened not long after, followed by the sound of AJ’s footsteps.

“Hey, baby,” he called out, voice tired and low.

“Hey,” you answered, a small smile pulling at your lips.

You stood from the couch and walked over to him, ready to greet him the way you always did. When you reached him, your arms slid around his neck and his found your waist, pulling you in. You kissed him, soft and slow, the kind of kiss that didn’t ask for much, just presence.

“How was your day?” you asked as he started walking toward the kitchen, though you already knew he probably wouldn’t want to talk about it. He hadn’t lately.

You followed behind him, stopping on the other side of the kitchen island. He rubbed a hand down his face, fingers dragging like even that felt like too much effort. A quiet breath left him.

“Same bullshit,” he grumbled, the exhaustion clear in his voice. “Over and over.”

You offered a smile, trying to ease the tension. “Well, you’re home now,” you said gently. “That’s something.”

He let out another breath, a little heavier, but nodded. “Yeah.”

Then he opened the fridge, peering inside.

“I thought you said you went to the store today,” he said, his voice carrying enough of an edge to shift the air.

“I did,” you said, still trying to keep things light. “Picked up a few things. Got everything for dinner tomorrow.”

His hand gripped the fridge door a little tighter, though you hardly noticed. 

“I asked you to grab beer.”

You let out an airy laugh, shaking your head as you leaned lightly against the counter. “No,” you said, easy and warm. “You didn’t tell me you wanted more beer—swear I would’ve grabbed it if you had.”

The sound of the fridge slamming shut made you straighten. AJ turned toward you, the look in his eyes not amused but sharp, tinged with frustration.

“Yes, I did,” he snapped. “I told you we were out. I said it yesterday.”

The warmth drained from your expression. You kept your tone calm, measured—hoping to keep things steady. “AJ, no. You didn’t. I promise. It wasn’t on the list, and you didn’t say anything to me about it.”

He scoffed, shaking his head like he was trying to convince himself you were wrong. “You either forgot or you weren’t listening, I don’t know which,” he bit out, and it stung—because you knew you hadn’t forgotten. He never mentioned it.

“If you had told me, I would’ve picked it up. I always do. You know that,” you said, softer this time, still trying to keep the mood from unraveling.

But it didn’t help.

AJ exhaled sharply, his voice rising slightly. “I shouldn’t have to tell you,” he said. “You live here. You could see that we were out.”

“All I wanted to do,” he muttered, stepping toward the kitchen island, “was come home, have a beer, and relax. That’s it. But I can’t even do that because you didn’t think to consider it.”

You didn’t argue. Couldn’t. Your body had already begun to tighten in ways it never had around AJ before. A rigidity settled in your shoulders, one that felt far too familiar. 

Your fingers twisted at the hem of your shirt, just barely. A motion small enough that he wouldn’t notice, not from his angle.

“I’m sorry,” you said, voice low. Forced. You tried to keep it centered, stable, like you weren’t suddenly ten steps back in time. 

You didn’t wait for him to respond. Instead, you stepped away from the island, grabbed your jacket, slipped on your shoes, and took your keys from the bowl near the door.

Every movement was automatic, your mind already somewhere else. “I’ll go grab it now.” You said as you pulled the door shut behind you with nothing but a click.

The drive to the store was quiet. Too quiet. Your fingers gripped the wheel as your eyes prickled with tears, the kind you didn’t want to acknowledge but couldn’t quite blink away either. You hated the way your stomach knotted. Hated how your body already knew how to react. Hated that you’d lived this before.

The yelling. The tone. The way everything somehow ended up being your fault, even if it wasn’t. You had walked away from all that.

AJ wasn’t him. You knew that. God, you knew that.

He was supposed to be different. And he had been—he was. But tonight, when his voice got too loud, too sharp, and he didn’t look at you the same way... something inside you recoiled.

Your body responded like it didn’t know him anymore. Like it couldn’t tell the difference between now and then.

And suddenly you were questioning yourself—wondering if you missed something, if maybe you were wrong after all.

You told yourself he didn’t mean it like that. That it wasn’t the same. But the hurt didn’t wait for proof. It settled deep, stirred up by old instincts that didn’t know how to shut off.

By the time you got back to the apartment, the weight of it all still lingered in your chest. You didn’t say a word—just set the beer down on the counter, the clink louder than it had any right to be. Then you turned and headed straight to the bedroom.

No explanation, no glance in his direction.

The worst part was how natural it felt—how easily your body slipped into old patterns. That tightness in your chest, the quiet retreat, the way you made yourself smaller without even thinking. Waiting out storms had become second nature, no matter how hard you’d tried to unlearn the rhythm of it.

And the next day was no different.

When you woke up, AJ was already gone. No note. No text. Just absence. All day long, you tried not to feel the weight of it, but it followed you anyway. The pit in your stomach had returned, worsening with each passing hour. 

Tonight was supposed to be date night, but now you weren’t sure if it was even still happening, if he remembered, or if last night had canceled all of it.

Later that evening, as you were wiping down the counter, your phone buzzed beside you. AJ’s name lit up the screen. A dull pressure settled low in your ribs as you stared at it, hesitation creeping in before you picked up.

“Hey,” you said softly, trying to keep your voice even.

“Hey,” AJ said, his voice lower than usual. “I’m not gonna make it back in time for dinner.”

There was no edge to his tone, no anger left in it—but something about it still felt far away.

You swallowed down the lump forming in your throat and kept your response simple. “Okay.” Nothing more.

There was a pause on his end. For a moment, it almost felt like he was going to say something else. But when he finally did, all he said was, “I’ll see you later, alright?”

Your voice barely held. “Yeah. See you later,” you whispered, steady but hollow. Then you hung up, setting your phone aside on the counter. 

For a moment, you just stood there, hands braced on either side of the cool surface. The ache that had been sitting in your chest all day cracked open, your eyes blurring with tears. You blinked fast, trying to stop them, but it was useless.

You leaned forward, elbows resting against the counter now, your weight sinking into it as your body quietly shook. You weren’t sobbing, not really—just crying in waves, like your body had slipped into a rhythm you wished to forget. You didn’t want to feel like this. Not again and definitely not with him.

You wiped at your face, quick and rough, and told yourself it would pass. That if you just stayed moving, stayed distracted, stayed busy, it might loosen its hold.

So you gathered yourself, dragging in a breath before picking up a dish towel and pretending the kitchen needed cleaning. You wiped the counter again, then the stove. Even the fridge handle. You knew none of it needed doing, but it gave your hands something to do while your heart tried to settle. A distraction, thin as it was. 

You kept at it for the next half hour, crying on and off. Tears stung, slipped free, then dried. You’d wipe them away, scrub at a spotless surface, and keep going. All of it quiet. All of it tired.

Then the front door clicked.

You froze mid-motion just as the door creaked open. Your eyes darted toward the sound, catching AJ stepping inside. 

Quickly turning away, you swiped at your face with the back of your wrist. “What are you doing home?” you asked, trying not to sound as startled—or as raw—as you felt.

AJ closed the door with a faint thud. He paused for only a second before his footsteps crossed the floor, coming to a stop a few paces behind you.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice low and rough around the edges. “About last night.”

You turned to face him slowly, the dish towel still clutched in your hand.

“You were right. I didn’t tell you about the beer,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “I thought I did, but I didn’t.”

He shook his head slightly, jaw tight. “That was on me.”

Your eyes lifted to him briefly before dropping again. You gave a small nod, arms crossing loosely over your chest as you shifted your weight from one foot to the other. Your gaze stayed elsewhere—unsure of what to say.

AJ stepped in, closing the distance until he stood beside you at the counter. The closeness drew you in, your eyes lifting to his face again—cautious, but open.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, firmer this time. “Not just because I was wrong. But because I know what raising my voice does to you… what it brings back.”

Something caught in your throat.

Not words—but the pull of it all. The kind that came when someone finally says what you didn’t realize you were holding your breath for.

His eyes didn’t leave yours, and for a second, it looked like the weight of it was pressing down on him too—like he hated himself a little for being the cause of that flicker of fear he thought he wouldn’t ever put in you.

“I never want to be that for you. I mean it.” His voice faltered slightly at the end, and you could see it—the way the regret sat heavy behind his eyes. Like he was replaying it all in his head.

“I’m sorry I didn’t handle it better—didn’t handle us better.”

You stared at him, your silence stretching—not cold, just full. Full of memories you hadn’t invited but couldn’t entirely shut out. 

“It’s okay,” you whispered, trying to ease the moment, to soften it like you always did. “I know you’ve been stressed. I understand.”

But he shook his head gently again. “No. Even if I had told you about the beer, it doesn’t matter. You don’t deserve to be talked to like that.” His voice dipped lower, sincere and grounded. “It shouldn’t have happened—it won’t happen again.”

The words settled deep and warm between you. And before you could stop it, a single tear slipped free. 

AJ reached out, thumb brushing it away with a tenderness that made your chest ache—in a good way, the best way. 

Then he leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead, his hands steady on the sides of your face. “I’m sorry,” he whispered again, as if saying it straight into your skin could make it stick.

You eased back, meeting his gaze. Then slowly, you moved in, letting your lips find his.

The kiss was reverent at first, the kind that carried apology and affection all at once. 

AJ’s hand slid to your waist, while the other brushed along your jaw. Your hands drifted up, wrapping around the back of his neck as you eased him closer, deepening the kiss just enough to say, “I forgive you.”

You lingered there for a moment before drawing back—only slightly—until your nose nudged his.

“Thank you,” you murmured, your voice low but certain.

AJ nodded, eyes still on you, something gentle flickering behind them. 

Your fingers trailed lightly against the back of his neck, still unwilling to let go. “You heading back out?” you asked gently, not accusing, just curious. “To meet with the guys?”

His head tilted a little. “No,” he said simply.

The answer surprised you enough for your brows to lift. “No?”

A smirk played at his lips, but his tone stayed soft. “They’ve seen me enough this week.”

That pulled a smile from you.

“Are you sure?”

He lowered his head, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Yeah. They’ll survive a night without me.”

You let out a small laugh, the kind that filled the room with something lighter. “Good. Because I was kind of looking forward to dinner.”

AJ leaned in again, stealing a short kiss before murmuring, “Me too.”

And just like that, the weight began to lift. You and AJ moved through the space in easy rhythm—bumping shoulders, brushing fingers, chopping vegetables. There were quiet laughs and quick kisses exchanged between stirring pots and reaching for utensils.

It wasn’t fancy, wasn’t rushed. Just the two of you, finally moving in rhythm again, cooking side by side in a silence that felt easy. It was comfort. It was home.

please do not repost, copy, or claim my work as your own.

tag list: @alealuvshayden @haydenchristensenisbae @sythethecarrot @apocalyptichero @ggyuslovie @anak1ns-wife @5secondsofmoxley @f1wh0recom @purplerose291 @i5hyv @endairachristensen26 @mvst4far

if you want to be tagged in my future posts, just let me know (comment or message me). i’m happy to do it! :)

links: masterlist

[divinedelusional]

red as a tomato

billy hargrove x fem reader

synopsis: cozy evening after a long day, with billy and lumax. max and lucas are couple, also fic touches on max and billy's siblings dynamic

warnings: nothing it's just fluffy

a/n: title kinda sucks, i wrote this waaay back in september before i even started this blog and idk i wasn't feeling like writing much this week, so im posting this

tagging some people who might enjoy it: @cameronsprincess @bookshelf-dust @shes-an-odd-bird

"Hi im home!" you shouted as you closed the door behind you and put keys into a bowl on a small dresser.

"Hi hon" Billy called from his seat in a little dining area in a living room. You came up to him to greet him with a sweet peck on the lips. You turned your head left to see Max sitting on the couch, with her head on Lucas shoulder.

"Hi y/n" Max greeted you.

"Hi cuties, what you watchin?"you asked. "Oh it's some new sit com The Charmings or whatever" Lucas replied.

"Is that Snow White? You interested in this?" You asked playfully, turning to Billy. "Well it's in California so" he said taking a sip of coke. He stood up and followed you to the hallway and took your denim jacket of for you.

"You tired?" he asked. "Mhm and so hungry. You guys ate i hope?"

"Yeah, we did, got to feed the kids right?" Billy said, his lips turning upwards a bit. "But this new place is kinda a bummer though" he added, leaning against the door frame of the bathroom, looking at you as you were changing your hairstyle. "You went to this Mexican place?" "Yeah, no competition to the one we had in Cali."

You and Billy went to California last month, when you had a winter vacation at school. Your dad's cousin moved there a year ago and was waiting for an opportunity to invite you and your boyfriend since she found out Billy was raised there. "I'll cook mexican for us next week, auntie gave me recepies from her friend". Billy smiled back at you, didn't respond as he kept gazing at you.

"What? What got you so dopey? Snow White on TV?" you smiled and looked at him when you finished tying up your hair. "Nah, just my own beautiful princess doing her hair" he said.

It was true. He was looking at you in awe. You came home at 8 pm, being up since 7 in the morning, tired, hungry, and probably a little bit cold and wet due to chilly march evening and rain outside, yet here you were beaming at him and Max and Lucas earlier. "Aw stop, B" you brushed him off but blushed like crazy. Billy just laughed. "Anyway you said you were hungry, anything in mind?"

"Grilled cheese? Tea and a blanket? And that weird Snow White show". Billy snorted at your response. "And your boyfriend holding you?" he asked.

"Oh yeah. My boyfriend, he has to be there" "And two dipshits by yours and your boyfriends side, right?". You laughed at his last sentence and smiled and the realization how much he grew fond of having Max and Lucas around together. He still was protective of his sister and wouldn't let Lucas do anything funny on his watch, but also enjoyed how happy and calm his sister was with him. Just like he was with you.

"Ask them if they want some and if they want to add something or cheese will do" you told Billy. Minute later you and Billy found yourself in your kitchen preparing sandwiches for the four of you.

"Jesus you are in the mood for those" Billy said when he saw you putting sliced pickles between cheddar and bread. A lot of pickles. He knew that after your sandwich will be ready you'll put a layer of mayo on top. Weird thing you didn't put jalapenos too.

"Girl has her cravings sometimes, lil dick" you shoved him playfully. "Oh nuh-uh. Y'know damn well im anything but lil dick, pretty baby" Billy said wrapping your arms around you from behind and kissing the nape of your neck. "Oh my god Hargrove, control yourself, you horndog" you scoffed pretending to be annoyed, but Billy could hear the smile in your voice. "And watch this plain just cheese grilled cheese of you and Max" you said pointing to the pan, putting bacon in Lucas' sandwich. "Yes ma'am" Billy let go of you, but squeezed your ass before moving to the stove.

After couple minutes you and Billy joined Max and Lucas on the couch, bringing plates with sandwiches. You sat on the couch, between Billy's legs, your back glued to his chest. You felt so much better after you ate, warmed and comforted as you sipped your ginger tea and Billy was stroking your hair lazily. You dozed off, when the show ended and Max and Billy started discussing the concept of putting Snow White in Los Angeles.

"Kay shitbirds get your stuff and we'll get going" you suddenly heard Billy calling Max and Lucas and they went to get dressed leaving you alone in the room with your boyfriend.

"You're driving them?" you asked, waking up from your slumber. Billy crouched down to you and kissed your forehead. "Yeah babe, go back to sleep".

You looked at your boyfriend as if you wanted to say that you're perfectly fine with giving Max and Lucas a ride. "Don't give me that look, y/n, Harrington would kill to get away from babysitting duty" you laughed. Billy kissed your forehead once again and you closed your eyes pushing your head further into the cushion.

"But be back soon, I want cuddles" you said with a little whine to your voice, not opening your eyes. Billy swore he could've melt and small smile appeared on his face. "Will be, angel"

"You can kiss her goodbye, I won't bite your head off" Billy said when he pulled up at Sinclair's driveway and saw that Lucas was hesitant about the way he should say goodbye to Max. Younger boy looked at him in shock, but decided to take the opportunity and he kissed his girlfriend sweetly but shortly not to push his luck. "See you tomorrow at Mike's" he said to Max and closed the door.

Billy chuckled when he saw Max blushing. "What?" she asked. "Nothing, just didn't think he'd go for it. And it's fun to see you flustered"

"Oh please. Like you're not blushing at everything y/n does. I don't see face being your regular shade anymore. You're like a tomato Billy." Max said pleased with making her step brother at a loss of words. "Like I thought you'd melt today looking at her. The same way you looked at her when you started dating and it's been a year, Billy."

Billy didn't say anything, didn't even wanted to argue with his sister because what was the point? Him and Max both knew who was right.

"Well Max, I think we have to accept that y/n and Sinclair are turning us into fuckin marinara" Billy smiled at Max in the mirror when she actually laughed, genuinely amused with Billy picking up previous remark about tomato face and him melting for y/n. She was also amazed how things changed, that she could joke with Billy like that, laugh and be comfortable with him.

"You know what Billy, our faces can be like tomatoes, but i would like to know how their faces would look like if they saw us right now." "Oh that Maxine, would be just priceless".

[neonghostlights]

Sweet Dreams

A/n: once again reposting an request from my old blog

Warnings: cussing and some kkiissssinn, 18+ only

The Request:

hii, hope you're doing well! i CANNOT get this idea out of my head rn- i'm thinking that it's the night before the huge plan to take vecna down, the whole gang crashes at steve's for the night and eddie and the reader have to share a bed. enemies to lovers, where the reader has a nightmare since they've been cursed by vecna, eddie comforts them and maybe more? idk, i just would like to see how this plays out! love ur work sm 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

The Answer:

“I am not sharing a bed with Eddie Fucking Munson,” you spat.

You had been relatively cool since you found out you had been cursed by Vecna. You even kept your cool when assisting with the grand theft auto, harboring a fugitive, and the near drowning when you jumped into Lover’s Lake after Steve after he got sucked into the upside down.

The stolen RV was now hidden in the woods near Steve’s house. All of the weapons purchased from The War Zone put together and ready to go for the battle tomorrow. Steve, Nancy and Robin would all go and kill Vecna. Dustin and Eddie are in charge of distracting the rabid killer bats. You, Lucas, Erica, and Max will be at the Creel house letting you slip into a trance to distract Vecna so that the rest of the group could end him.

What could go wrong?

Steve huffed, pinching his fingers on the bridge of his nose. He should have known you would put up a fight over this.

“Listen, the kids are all passed out in the basement. Nancy is passed out on the couch. Robin is already asleep in my bed. That means you have to room with Eddie,” Steve explained as calmly as possible.

“Why don’t you sleep with Eddie?” You asked. “I’ll go snuggle up with Robin instead.”

“Because I had to watch you last night to make sure you didn’t get Vecna’d and I’m so tired. I can’t trust myself to wake up if something happens. Eddie’s the only one awake enough to keep an eye on you.”

You tapped your foot. Who knew being cursed by Vecna was such a pain in the ass.

You definitely didn’t want to spend the last possible night of your life with Eddie Munson. You didn't remember when this back and forth between the two of you started. Maybe when you both had Ms. O'donnell's class for third period last year and you bitched him out for always tapping loudly. Or before that when you accidentally stole his Dnd props because you thought they were for the school play. You would think trying to save the world together would call for a truce. But he was still just as annoying as ever, always choosing you out of the whole group to pick on.

“Just please?” Steve pleaded.

You sighed, crossing your arms against your chest. Steve really was tired and you could see the seams cracking from where he was barely holding it together. No one should have to stay strong for as long as he has.

“Fine. But if he gets on my nerves I’m smothering him with a pillow,” you sighed.

“Maybe I’m into that,” Eddie chimed in, peeking his head out from the staircase. He had probably been listening the whole time. He scurried back up the stairs when he caught the angry look on your face.

Steve winced when he heard you grind your teeth.

At this point you were just going to turn him into the police yourself. But then Dustin would be mad at you and didn’t want to hear about how you ruined his friend's life for the rest of your life. Even if the rest of your life might only be a day.

“Alright. I’m going to bed. See you in the morning!” Steve said before he made his escape.

You rolled your eyes, groaning as you went up the stairs.

You pushed open the door to Steve’s parents room. A large bed sat in the center of the room with expensive shiny bedding. The room was dimly lit by the few lamps that sat on the side table and dresser.

Eddie laid face down in the center of the bed.

“Hell no. Move,” you instructed, smacking the back of his head with a pillow.

Eddie turned his head, peeking up at you through his disheveled hair. He wore a pair of Steve’s sweatpants and a white sleeveless shirt, also Steve’s.

“I’ve been spending my nights in the boathouse and Rick’s crusty bed. Let me enjoy this,” he whined.

You almost felt bad for him. Almost.

He did have a rough time this past week. He’s been framed by a murder that he didn’t commit and hunted like a criminal by people in this town. He barely ate, slept, or showered the whole time he was hiding. Being here must be like being at an all inclusive spa resort.

You chewed your lip. “Why can’t you sleep on the floor or something?”

“Are you kidding? This bed is big enough for the both of us. Come here and make yourself comfortable. I don’t bite,” Eddie said with a wide, toothy grin. He scooted over some and patted the spot beside him.

You rolled your eyes, took a deep breath, and laid down in the bed. The sheets were warm and soft. The comforter was heavy enough to feel like an embrace. It wouldn’t take long for you to fall asleep here, even if your company wasn’t ideal.

“See,” Eddie spoke up. “It’s not so bad.” He shimmied his butt against the mattress obnoxiously.

You yawned, turning to face away from him. Neither of you turned the lamps off, having seen enough this past week to scare you away from the dark forever. No more horror movies for you.

All you heard was, “Goodnight,” before you drifted off into the darkness.

A warm hand cupped your face. “Hey. It’s just a nightmare. Wake up.”

You pushed away from the hand, sitting up in the bed with a gasp. Eddie sat beside you, the blankets pooled at his waist as he stared at you with worried eyes.

You gasped for air, grabbing at your throat. The dream had felt so real. It felt like you were actually being strangled by vines.

You dropped your head between your knees, trying to calm the whooshing of your blood in your ears.

Pressure on your back had you jumping with a yelp.

Eddie shushed you, his hand rubbing up and down your back in a soothing way. “I’m sorry. It’s just me. Are you okay?”

You nodded wordlessly, keeping your head down. You hadn’t wanted anyone to see you like this, especially not Eddie. You didn’t want to be vulnerable in front of him.

“I’ll be right back,” he announced before jumping out of bed quickly. You didn’t have the chance to ask him where he was going before you heard him running down the stairs. You felt yourself missing the way his hand felt against your back. His absence hit you harder than you expected.

He burst back in a minute later with a glass of water in hand and handed it to you. He stood by your side of the bed watching you gulp it down.

“You don’t have to hover. I’m fine,” you croaked out. You swore you could still feel the pressure around your neck.

Eddie sat on his side, still keeping a worried eye on you.

You looked over to the clock on the table beside you. It had only been thirty minutes since you fell asleep and there was no way you’d be able to doze off again with your adrenaline rushing like this.

You laid back, staring at the ceiling.

“You wanna talk about it?” Eddie asked, lying beside you closer than he was before.

“Talk about what? The fact that I’m probably going to be dead in less than 24 hours? Or the fact that I can’t even sleep because everytime I do that creep invades my dreams?” You complain.

“Alright, then let’s talk about something else. Do you want to play twenty questions?” Eddie finally asks after a moment of silence.

You thought for a second. There was no way you were going back to that awful dreamland tonight.

“Fine. You go first,” you said, picking at your cuticles to avoid looking at him.

“What’s your favorite color?” Eddie asked.

“I don’t have one,” you admit. You always hated this question. Your indecisiveness could never let you choose just one. “I can guess yours is black though.”

Eddie snorted. “Actually it’s blue and that wasn’t a question.”

You looked back up at the ceiling thinking for a moment. “How many times have you been in trouble? Not including right now.”

“You’re going to have to narrow that one down or we’ll be here all night,” Eddie said with a laugh.

“Okay, how many times have you been to detention?”

Eddie hummed a tune while he counted on one hand and then the other. “This year? About fifteen times. I’ve had a good year,” he finally says, looking proud of himself.

“Fifteen times?” You gasp in shock, turning onto your side so you can face him. He was already facing you so it brought you closer than you expected.

“About twelve of those times are because of Ms. O'donnell,” he admitted.

You groaned. “Oh that’s not surprising. I hated her last year.”

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” Eddie said, surprising you.

“Why?”

“Because you were so goody two shoes in her class! You got me sent to detention at least once!”

Your mouth popped open. “I did not!”

“Yes you did! Remember when you tripped over my shoe and you thought I did it on purpose?” He pressed.

“Because you did do it on purpose! You hate me!” You exclaimed.

“I would never do that and I do not hate you,” he admitted in a low voice.

Your breath stuttered at the way his change in emotion caught you off guard.

“Oh,” is all you said under your breath.

“Do you hate me?” Eddie questioned, voice still low. If it had been so silent in the house you would have never heard him.

You thought about it for a second. Sure, Eddie was annoying sometimes. He was loud. He always had his things everywhere. But, he was also kind and understanding. He was funny and unapologetically himself at all times. He took care of the freshmen like they were his own family and shielded them from bullies. He was willing to stay up during the night and watch you even though he had barely slept all week, even when he was questioning if you hated him or not.

“No,” you answered honestly.

Eddie smiled softly at you; his full lips spreading across his face. You didn’t realize how close you two had shifted together while talking but it gave you an up close view to Eddie. You didn’t think that many people got to see him like this without his leather jacket and scary words. You had never noticed how long his eyelashes were before or how they framed his brown eyes perfectly. I made you jealous that someone could just walk around looking so pretty all of the time.

Eddie Munson was pretty and the realization hit you like a ton of bricks. It was frightening how pretty he was like this, with his hair sprawled around his face and his arms bare and clutching the blankets but also how pretty he was even when he was dressed in leather and headbanging to a guitar solo. How had you never stopped and noticed before?

“You look like you’re thinking a lot over there,” Eddie said.

You shrugged with the shoulder you weren’t lying on. “Just realizing some things.”

“It’s about time,” Eddie said, leaning in closer. His eyes searched your face, checking to make sure you were on the same page as him.

“Yeah, it is about time,” you whispered, leaning in and pressing your lips to his. Eddie groaned under his breath as your lips moved together. Slow and soft under the yellow light that spilled from the lamps.

When you finally separated, Eddie didn’t let you get far. He held a hand out, pulling you close to his chest. You could hear the way his heart pounded strong and fast through the thin t-shirt he wore. If you didn’t know any better you would have thought he had just ran a mile.

You smiled into his shirt, letting his warmth surround you. You felt your eyes start to get heavier.

“I don’t want to fall asleep,” you muttered.

“If you do, I'll be right here. I won’t let anything happen to you,” he replied, running his hand over your shoulder lightly.

“You promise?” You asked, already drifting off.

“I promise. Sweet dreams,” he said softly as you fell asleep.

You did have sweet dreams lying in Eddie’s arms that night. It was a precious break until you had to go through the earth shattering nightmare of the next day.

[illubean]

Hi hellooo <3 I love your blog and since I have a thing for this bug-eyed boi, I wanted to ask you to please write a headcanon or a small one-shot (whatever you are comfortable) about teenage!illumi SOMEHOWWWWW having a secret friendship and he meets reader in the forest etc :)

Assassins Don't Have Friends

Characters: Teenager!Illumi Zoldyck Type: Fluff, oneshot, Teenager!Gn!reader

this turned out kinda long >.< idk how to feel about it tbh

Warnings: mention of human trafficking kind of?

Illumi Zoldyck was a perfect assassin and a perfect son. He never showed fear, vulnerability, was excellent at his job and followed all the rules to a t. Or so everyone thought.

It wasn't long ago that Illumi had went on the job that would unknowingly change his life, maybe about three months give or take. He was assigned to take out a member of the mafia known for trading illegal goods. Apparently he had owed the man who hired Illumi money and had no means of paying it. He was to dispose of the target swiftly and silently.

After the job had been done the young Zoldyck somehow failed to notice the figure in the corner, who had been watching him with surprised and tired eyes. Upon realizing he was not alone, the boy was quick to pin the figure down, ready to take their life at any given moment. Now that he was up close to this person, he realized it was another kid around his age, wearing tattered and dirty clothes. The part that intrigued him most is that they didn't seem afraid of him.

The mysterious person only smiled at him, eyes softening with admiration as they spoke.

"Thank you for saving me."

The young assassin stared blankly in confusion. Saving them? All he did was his job and you just happened to be there, he didn't really try benefiting you on purpose. Illumi lowered the needle he had pointed at the persons neck, eyes narrowing before he responded.

"What are you talking about?"

"That man you killed. I was just auctioned off to him and needless to say he was a horrible man, so thank you. I'm Y/n by the way."

Illumi got off of Y/n, turning around to leave before speaking up once more.

"I didn't kill him for you, I was doing my job. I should kill you too for being a witness, but I'll let you go this once."

The Zoldyck boy began to embark on his journey back home before he heard footsteps running to catch up to him.

"I never caught your name? Who are you anyway?"

He continued to walk, not once turning to face Y/n.

"Quit following me."

"But I have nowhere to go-"

"I don't care where you go, just get away from me."

It was silent for a few moments as the teens continued to walk. Y/n ignored Illumi's demands as they neared a path that stretched through a vast forest. At the end of the trail there was a large mountain. Illumi knows he shouldn't have led this stranger so close to his home, but something inside him wouldn't let him push them away.

"You still haven't told me your name. Are you like a secret spy or something? Geez we've been walking for so long- don't tell me we have to walk all the way up that mountain!"

The young assassin stopped when they got to the base of the mountain, causing Y/n to run into his back with a small 'oof'.

In front of them was a large stone wall with metal doors in the center.

"This is as far as I can allow you to get. I shouldn't have let you follow me for so long but frankly you don't pose any threat."

"Aww, I think you just let me follow you so far because you like me! Noowwww can I finally know the name of my new friend?"

Y/n smiled at the stoic male in front of them, blinking and awaiting a response.

"Assassins don't have friends, now leave."

Illumi approached the seven large doors of his home and began to push them open before pausing.

"It's Illumi."

He entered through those doors while Y/n stood confused for a few moments before realizing.

That was his name.

While the doors were closing he heard a voice yell from the opposite side.

"Okay Mr assassin! I'll come back here here every day to see you!"

{Pov switch? kinda?}

And that's exactly what you did. Every day for about a week you showed up at the foot of the mountain, sometimes convincing Zebro to call the butlers quarters.

After Illumi found out about this, he finally went down to meet them. This time you looked much cleaner, holding a small basket with a cloth over it.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"I told you I would visit every day, didn't I? Oh, and this is for you. I managed to make a little money by fighting so consider this as a "thank you'. Y'know, for killing that guy?"

You held out the basket, gesturing for the boy in front of you to take it. He lifted the cloth to reveal some baked goods underneath. Illumi sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"You can't keep trying to call the house. I told you assassins don't have friends."

"Welllll can't you make an acception for little ole me?" you asked, batting your eyelashes at him. "It could be our little secret!"

Without a word, Illumi grabbed one of your wrists and began walking into the forest surrounding his home. He stopped as the both of you came to a clearing, sitting down against the trunk of a tree.

"You're annoyingly stubborn."

You only smiled before sitting down next to him, reaching into your basket and pulling out two custard buns.

"Well it seems to work," you started, offering him one of the buns. "We're friends now, after all."

Illymi accepted the sweet treat with a sigh and ended up sitting there with you for hours. At some point you had both agreed to meet there once a week.

After these visits Illumi began developing a soft spot for you. He anticipated the days you would show up and the time you got to spend together.

Maybe he wasn't a perfect son.

He had secretly been seeing you without his family knowing and you were beginning to break down those walls of his.

Maybe he wasn't the perfect assassin.

Because after all, assassins don't have friends.

[logansargeantsbabymom]

Practice

Oscar Piastri x Fem!Reader x Paul Aron

A/N: I really wasn't going to post anything on Tumblr for a while and to just use the anger and betrayal I feel inside of me to write as a form of an outlet. I've had this request done for a while but with everything going on I didn't want to post it but I already feel bad to the person that requested it for keeping them waiting for so long and since Oscar won today, I feel like this is an appropriate time.

After posting this, I do not know how long until I post again but know whenever I do decide it is the right time for me (mentally) to come back, I will have lots of stories to post along with writing more.

Again, thank you to everyone who has reached out to me and wishing me well and reblogging that post along with sending requests to other writers asking them to spread the word and to block and report that person, I do see them and I do really appreciate all the support.

Farewell, for now. I will see you all again soon.

Requested (idk where the actual ask went but I did write it in my notes app where I do rough drafts): Please could you do a story Oscar piastri x y/n x paul aron smut I'm dying for the two of them 🔥 @deepestrunawaykitty

SMUT

Follow my instagram account (THATS STRICTLY FOR THIS BLOG) for updates on when i post and fun stuff like that!

Instagram

F1 Masterlist

It was a hot July Saturday night, and I felt my heart race as I entered the club with my boyfriend, Oscar. The bass pumped through my body, setting the tone for a night of pure, unadulterated pleasure. I wore a tight, black dress that hugged my body in all the right places. my long hair fell loosely and my eyes sparkled with anticipation. Oscar looked dashing as always, his brown hair tussled, and that seductive smirk playing on his lips. He was a Formula 1 driver, and his bad-boy charm had me hooked from the start.

As we made our way through the crowd, hands brushing against each other, the familiar lyrics of Drake's "Practice" filled the room. This was our song, the one that played on repeat during our steamy make-out sessions. Oscar leaned in close, his hot breath tickling my ear as he whispered, "You know what this song does to me, babe. It makes me want to take you right here on the dance floor and show everyone what you're mine."

I felt my core clench at his words, my nipples hardening against the soft fabric of my dress. I loved it when Oscar talked dirty, and tonight, I wanted to give myself completely to him. "Then take me," I purred, pressing my body against his, feeling the hard length of his cock straining against his pants. "I'm yours to do with as you please."

Oscar's hand slid down my back, pulling my body tight against his. With his other hand, he reached under my dress, his fingers teasing the soaked fabric of my panties. "You're so wet already, baby. Who knows, maybe I'll let one of my friends have a taste of this tight pussy tonight." I moaned, my eyes fluttering closed as his fingers found my clit, rubbing slow, torturous circles. "Oh, yes, Oscar," I gasped. "I'm yours to share. Do whatever you want with me."

As if on cue, Oscar's friend, Formula 2 driver Paul Aron, joined us on the dance floor. He was tall and muscular, with a mischievous smile that sent shivers down my spine. "Well, well, well," he said, his eyes roaming over my body. "Looks like someone's ready to play."

"She certainly is," Oscar replied, his hand still working its magic between my thighs. "Why don't you say hello, Paul?"

Paul didn't need to be asked twice. He pulled me against him, his lips crashing down on mine in a passionate kiss. I melted into the kiss, my hands exploring Paul's body as his tongue dueled with mine. I could feel both of their erections pressing into me, and it drove me wild.

Breaking the kiss, Oscar guided me to turn around, pressing my body against the hard planes of Paul's chest. "Such a beautiful view," Oscar murmured, nuzzling my neck. "Seeing your pretty mouth wrapped around my cock while Paul fucks that tight pussy from behind." I moaned, my eyes rolling back as Paul's hands slid up my thighs, lifting my dress. "Mmm, yes, Oscar," I breathed. "I want you both. Please, fuck me. Make me yours."

Without warning, Oscar spun me around and pressed my against the nearby wall, his mouth claiming mine in a voracious kiss. my senses spun out of control as I felt Paul's hands on my waist, lifting me up. I wrapped my legs around his waist as he pressed the length of his hard cock against my aching pussy. "You ready for me, baby?" he growled, grinding his hips against her.

"Please," I begged, my head falling back as Oscar kissed and nibbled on my neck. "Fuck me, Paul. Give it to me hard."

With one swift thrust, Paul impaled me on his thick shaft, burying himself balls-deep inside me. I cried out, my nails digging into Oscar's shoulders as I felt myself stretched around his cock. Paul began to move, his hips snapping as he pounded into me, each thrust hitting me deep and hard.

Oscar's hands roamed over my body, cupping my breasts and pinching my nipples. He kissed and sucked on my neck, marking me as his. "You like that, baby? You like being fucked by my friend while I watch?"

"Yes," I moaned, my head tossing back and forth as pleasure washed over me. "Oh, God, yes. It feels so good, Oscar. Don't stop."

Paul's hands gripped my thighs, holding me in place as he thrust faster and harder, his grunts filling the air. I felt her orgasm building, a coil of pleasure tightening in my belly. "I'm gonna cum," I panted, my fingers tangling in Oscar's hair. "Don't stop, please, don't stop."

As if sensing my impending release, Oscar reached between our bodies, his fingers finding my swollen clit. He rubbed me in slow, firm circles, sending shocks of pleasure coursing through me. "That's it, baby, cum for us. Let me taste that sweet pussy."

And cum I did. With a strangled cry, my body shook as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over me. My juices flowed around Paul's cock, making his thrusts even more delicious. "That's it, take it," Paul grunted, his hips slapping against my ass. "Cum all over my cock, you dirty girl."

As my orgasm began to subside, Paul quickened his pace, chasing his own release. I felt his cock twitch inside her, and with a final, powerful thrust, he filled me with his hot cum. "Fuck, yes," he groaned, his body trembling as he emptied himself inside me.

But the night was far from over.

After a brief respite, Oscar led us to a more secluded area of the club. His eyes were dark with desire as he pushed me against a nearby couch, his lips capturing mine in a fierce kiss. Paul stood beside us, his eyes burning with lust as he watched his friend take what he wanted from my willing body.

Oscar broke the kiss, his breath hot on my face as he said, "Get on your knees, baby. I want your mouth."

I obeyed without hesitation, my heart pounding with anticipation. I knew Oscar loved deepthroating, and the thought of taking him all the way down my throat made my pussy drip. I looked up at him with hooded eyes, my lips parted, as I reached for the belt of his pants.

Oscar undid his belt, freeing his hard length. my eyes widened at the sight of his thick, veined cock, the head already glistening with pre-cum. I licked my lips, leaning forward to flick my tongue over the sensitive tip. "Mmm," I moaned, tasting the salty sweetness of him. "I've been waiting all night for this."

I took him into my mouth, sucking slowly, bobbing my head up and down as my hands stroked his length. Oscar's hands tangled in my hair, guiding my pace as he moaned above me. "That's it, baby, just like that. Take it all."

my lips slid down his shaft, my tongue swirling as I hollowed my cheeks, taking him deeper with each stroke. I could feel his cock hit the back of my throat, and I relaxed, allowing him to slide down my throat. Oscar groaned, his hips bucking as he held me still, his cock buried deep. "Fuck, yes, that's it, take it all," he panted.

Pulling back, I sucked hard, hollowing my cheeks as I swirled my tongue. Oscar's hands tightened in my hair, guiding me in a fast, hard rhythm as he used my mouth for his pleasure. "You love that cock, don't you, baby?" he growled. "You're such a dirty little cock slut."

"Mmm-hmm," I hummed around his shaft, my eyes flashing with desire. "I love it, Oscar. I love sucking your big cock."

Paul stood beside them, stroking his hardening cock as he watched the erotic display. "Damn, that's fucking hot," he muttered. "Seeing her mouth wrapped around your cock is making me hard again, Oscar."

A wicked smile curved Oscar's lips as he pulled me off his cock, a strand of saliva connecting our mouths. "I think it's time for that double penetration I've been craving, don't you?"

my pussy clenched at his words, the thought of being filled by both men at once sending a thrill through my body. I nodded eagerly, my eyes shining with anticipation. "Please, yes. Fuck me, both of you. I want it so bad."

Oscar positioned me on my hands and knees on the couch, my ass raised in the air, my pussy exposed and glistening with my juices. "Ride that cock, Paul," he instructed, his eyes sparkling with lust. "I'm gonna stretch her throat while you pound that tight pussy."

Paul lined himself up, sliding into my wet heat with ease. I moaned, my eyes fluttering closed as I felt myself stretched around his thickness once again. Oscar guided my head down onto his cock, holding me still as he thrust his hips, fucking my mouth hard and fast.

The sensation of being filled at both ends pushed me closer to the edge. I felt Paul's hands grip my hips, setting a brutal pace as he slammed into me. Oscar's cock pumped in and out of my mouth, his balls slapping against my chin. "That's it," Oscar grunted. "Take it, you dirty slut. Take both our cocks."

The sounds of their grunts and my muffled moans filled the room. “So dirty for us, such a slut” Oscar grunted. His words sent me over the edge. I cried out around Oscar's cock as my orgasm ripped through me, my body shaking with the force of it. Paul roared his release, his cum shooting deep inside me as he rode out his orgasm.

With a final, hard thrust, Oscar held my head down on his shaft, his hips bucking as he filled my mouth with his hot load. I swallowed, milking him with my mouth as he groaned my name.

Collapsing onto the couch, all three of us panted, a tangle of sweaty, satisfied bodies. I smiled, my body buzzing with satisfaction. This was definitely a night I would never forget.

—————

taglist:

@luckyladycreator2 @itsmiamalfoy @jeffs77 @ilivbullyingjeongin @forevercaffeinated-lee @daemyratwst @gulphulp @callsignwidow @f1wintermoon13 @teenwolf01 @victoriassecret101 @hiireadstuff @formulaal l l @kazza72584 @zabwlky1999 @dark-night-sky-99 @rougekiki @xoscar03 @jess-wither @bountychanti @dhanihamidi i @tellybearryyyy @a-panseuxalmess s @love-simon @tallrock35 @iiaik0ii @Milkyymelanine @ilovsyou3000morgan @styl1shl1v @eddieharrington @hellowgoodbye

[twobit-cade2095]

hii!! love your blog.. idk if you’re accepting requests but if you are, could you maybe do a reader goes on a date with dally to a drive in? angst or fluff either one 😓💗

Friday at the Drive-In

Where: Dallas makes up for a fight by taking you to the drive-in

🔺🔺🔺🔺🔺🔺🔺🔺🔺🔺🔺🔺🔺🔺🔺🔺🔺🔺

“Hey, dolly” Dallas says as he approaches your locker at school. You two had just gotten in a fight, he was flirting with girls at a party the other day.

“Hi Dallas” you say in an exasperated tone. You were still upset over the fight.

“Come on, baby, I said I’m sorry. Lemme make it up to you” he said, leaving against the locker next to yours. “And how do you suppose you’ll do that?” You ask, shutting your locker to look at him. It was Friday and it was time to go home.

“Lemme take you out tonight. To the drive-in. I’ll pick you up at six and make sure to wear your pink dress. Makes your eyes pop” he said, gently brushing his fingers over your cheekbone. “Fine. 6pm sharp. No sooner, no later. You hear me?” You say in fake sternness. “Yes ma’am” he replied, giving you a kiss before saying. “I love you, baby. I’ll see you later”. He walked off to his friends.

You were in your room, getting ready. You pulled the pink dress out of your closet, per dally’s request. You put it on, styled your hair, and looked in the mirror. You looked cute. You check the clock. 5:59. The second the clock strikes 6, you hear a knock at your front door downstairs. You walk downstairs and open the door. Of course, it was Dallas. “Heya, doll. You look gorgeous” he said, already placing his hands gebtly on your waist. “Thank you, Dally”

The car ride to the drive-in was relatively quiet. You were still upset about the little ‘party’ incident. The only thing you could really hear was the steady song playing on the radio and the tapping coming from Dallas’ fingers on the wheel.

He pulled in and parked the car. He turned over and looked at you. He was just *staring*

“You gonna say anything or just keep staring at me?” You say as you notice him. “I’ll say something” he says, his gaze never faltering. He grabs your chin from the drivers seat, leading you two to meet half way in the middle. He places a kiss to your lips and looks into your eyes. “Doll. Listen to me.” He says in a firm tone. “You’re the only one for me. The only one I want. I love you. Nothing will change that. I’m so sorry for what happened at Bucks. It won’t happen again. I swear. Ya hear?” He says. You’re almost starstruck. Dallas NEVER talked like this. Unless he wanted sex or wanted you to buy something. But he really meant it. He was serious. No lustful feelings or anything. “Okay” you say, a small smile on your lips as you look at him

He grinned at you before placing another kiss to your lips.

🔺🔺🔺🔺🔺🔺🔺🔺🔺🔺🔺🔺🔺🔺🔺🔺🔺🔺

OH MY GOD THIS TOOK ME A CRIMINALLY LONG TIME TO WRITE STOP IM SO SORRY

lowkey forgot about tumblr!

Finals kicked my ass (I got all 100s)

I had an ungodly amount of homework and I FINALLY have time to write!

Again. Sorry for the wait but hope you enjoy!!

[howellatme-writes]

Road Trip

HS!SeniorYear! Marc Spector x SeniorYear!Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Marc go on your first road trip together in your 'new' car. Then he tells you something that ruins your future plans. AN: Originally written for one of those Pinterest tag games back in March, I'm just posting it on my writing blog. Idk where this picture of Oscar is from, but it gives me Senior Yearbook picture vibes for Marc Spector. I'm seeing a Young!Marc in the fall before the leaves turn. WC: 1032 TW: Hints of abuse, never explicitly mentioned.

"What are you drawing?" Marc startles you as he leans in by your ear while you sit on the bench in the park.

"Marc! Don't scare me!" You jump, sending the pencils rolling off your sketchpad and onto the pavement. You smile as he quickly stumbles to pick them up for you. His shirt rides up as he bends down, revealing a bruise, but you say nothing. Your goal is to get him out of the house and offer him a break from his home life. "I was drawing the statue in the park. Hopefully, it will be another addition to my portfolio." With your messenger bag stuffed with your sketchbook and pencils, you stand up. "Ready to go on our first road trip?" "Mmhm." He nods, and you both get into your car. The car is new to you, but it's old, and the heat barely works, but it belongs to you—your freedom, your power, Marc's escape. 

It’s a great day. It almost felt like a date. Apple picking, apple cider, and donuts. He held your hand, he gave you an extra flannel he brought when you were cold. Marc’s chin rested on your shoulder when you were in line to purchase more cider and donuts for the ride home. Then, there was an early dinner at a diner on the way back. The conversations are about senior year, the future, everything, and nothing. Hopes and dreams. Except when the topic turns to what Marc wants to do, he deflects, saying he’ll figure it out, or just mentions that he wants to travel far away, with the goal mainly being moving out, and not having to come home to his parents for a long, long time.

When you’re 20 minutes into the journey back home, he tells you his plan casually, as if it wouldn't affect you at all: "I enlisted in the Marines last week. Delayed Entry Program."

You slam on the brakes abruptly, pulling over. "You what?"

"Don't tell anyone," Marc pleads. "You know, I just need to get away—far away."

"And you're just telling me now? After I suggested getting an apartment together near the university? After we just spent the whole afternoon talking about... how much fun it would be... to have you stay with me. My apartment could’ve been your home away from home..." You tear up, throwing the car into park.

"I didn't want you to leave me at the diner because you were mad," he confesses, taking a sip of cider directly from the half-gallon jug.

You open the car door and step out, pacing and fuming. You want to scream, to cry, you almost want to leave him on the side of the road, but you know you can’t. Marc’s arms are around you before you realize it. You turn into him, overwhelmed and hit and weakly bang your fist against his chest when you bury your head in his shoulder, you feel him tense and you break down, tapping an open palm over his heart as you whisper, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to... I’m sorry. Marc, don’t go. Don’t do this, please.” you grip his flannel tightly as you cry, wishing it was a nightmare you could wake up from.

After taking a deep breath, Marc relaxes and gently squeezes you. “There’s no going back now. You know why I had to sign up... It’s a done deal,” he whispers, his lips against your forehead. 

“I don’t want you to go. I understand why, but not like this. I would have done it all for you, Marc,” you whisper as you look up at him with red, puffy eyes. Your voice cracks as you tell him for the first time, “I love you, Marc.”

“I know you do,” Marc whispers. The look he gives you shows he’s known that for a long time, and he kisses you, the taste of cider still lingering on his lips, “You have such a bright future ahead of you. You’re a great artist. Having me follow you and be a bum on your couch, that’s not fair to you. You need to focus on you.” 

Before you can protest, Marc lets go and returns to the car. You stand there stunned as you watch him reach in to switch the song on your iPod touch and turn up the volume as the song starts. He returns to your arms and sways with you to the song. He gives you a sad smile and twirls you before you can say anything else, “I didn’t mean to ruin the day…I just… had to tell someone, and I knew you’d understand.” He sways in time to the beat, caresses your cheek, wiping away the tears with the back of his hand.

“I get it. I just wish there were another way to get you out…”

“It’s okay. I never wanted to hurt you, but it’s not your responsibility. It’s mine. Sneaking out to hang out with you, though, has been the highlight of my life.” 

Your lips are on his again, and your hand is in his hair, realizing one day in the not-so-distant future, it will have to be cut for boot camp. You taste your tears in the kiss when it sinks in. He would rather risk his life serving his country than stay home. He honestly thought he didn’t have another option. Your fingers grasp his hair at the base of his neck like you could desperately stop time if you just held on long enough. The song ends, and a car honks its horn at both of you as it drives past, and you both realize how close you both had drifted to the side of the road.

There’s still all of the senior year, homecoming, spring break, and prom, but you feel like you have him on borrowed time now. You promise to spend each moment, making the rest of this year memorable for you both, before he’s out of it for good. The drive home is quiet, but there’s some unspoken agreement between you on the journey as you reach for his hand. You’ll make the most of the time that’s left.

[rotting-ink]

I love this IF Blog so much with how unfiltered and HILARIOUS it is 😂😭👍🏼

Idk how fleshed out your characters are for OLL but if it’s possible can we get intro of all royal MCs siblings (also how many are from the first husband and the second spouse ?), what are their relationships like with each other (including MC and Queen Tatiana) ?

AHAAAA! YES, MY TIME TO SHINE. OKAY!

First born: Pavel Tasiavich Volchek. Aged 32.

Pavel, or, as you knew him, Pasha. You haven't seen him in years. He went off, to everyone's horror, into the military. He came home once or twice but too many arguments has... Well, you fear, driven him off for good. He was stoic, called aloof at times, but he was the one who taught you how to ride a horse when your teacher made you too scared of your little sleepy pony, with stories of people kicked into mental impairment drilled into you. He was always gentle with you. He called you his little soldier.

Second born: Aleksandr/Aleksandra (Sasha) Tatsiavna/Tasiavich Volchek. Aged 28.

You already know them. Second born of Tsarina and her first husband. Who is now bones being nibbled on by fish.

Third Born: Aksana Tatsiavna Volchek. Aged 27.

Born a year after Sasha. Looks more like Sasha and her late father. Always tried to be quite motherly towards the youngest children, but since her engagement to the second son of the Monarch of the Isles, she's been rather preoccupied with packing up her things and getting ready to take her household with her. She always liked to read to the MC at night and would take them on picnics when the weather was clear for it.

Fourth Born: Stansislav Tasiavich Kiss-Kosa. Aged 26.

Stanislav, or Stas, is the worst trouble maker of the bunch. The first son of the Tsarina's second marriage, his own father's nonchalance rubbed off on him. A rebel, troublemaker, a lazy good-for-nothing are all things he's been called. Not that close to you, unless you've been into helping him with his... Exploits. Has a harsh rivalry with Sasha especially. He split his court away from the family one as soon as he was able to, and it's quite popular with the rowdier folk.

Fifth Born and Sixth Born: Albina and Abraim Tatsiavna and Tasiavich Kiss-Kosa. Aged 24.

The twins. The reason why your mother took such a long break between your own birth and theirs. Their birth was so tumultuous it was said your mother couldn't even walk for over five months after it. They are... Known sadists. Ever since childhood, they've been your bullies, even lightheartedly. They were so bad at times that to this day, they have been banned from the nursery.

Seventh Born. You! Good luck. Aged 21!

Eighth Born: Evdokiya Tatsiavna Kiss-Kosa. Aged 11.

Currently fondly nicknamed Kissy, instead of her demanded "Eve" (more grown up). There is 10 years between you two, so for a fraction of your life, you got to spend with her in the nursery before coming of age. She's still quite demanding of her time with you, as she isn't able to connect to the other siblings like she can with you.

Ninth Born: Inga Tatsiavna Kiss-Kosa. Aged 7.

The baby. Even close in age with Evdokiya, Kissy sees herself too old to play with Inga. The last child, that came as quite a surprise. She's babied by all except the twins, of course. She's quiet and likes to stick to her imaginary friends but does like it when people visit the nursery.