#it was the heat of the moment I didn’t mean it

[rafes-slut]

Let me show you

Summary: when you admitt to rafe that you never had sex and that you never even tried to touch yourself. he offers helps and guids you thrue every step on how to do it

Pairing: bsf!Rafe Cameron x Shy!Soft!reader Warnings: Smut (explicit sexual content), virginity loss discussion, self-exploration, mutual pleasure, best friends tension, Rafe being both teasing and patient, lots of praise, heavy sexual tension, explicit language.

----

The living room was dimly lit, the soft glow from the TV screen casting flickering shadows across the couch where you and Rafe sat. Movie nights had become a routine between the two of you—something comfortable, something easy. Best friends, nothing more, nothing less. At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself.

But tonight felt different.

The moment the scene changed, the tension in the air became undeniable. The movie had taken an unexpected turn, shifting from action-packed plotlines to something much more... intimate. The soft moans and the slow, sensual movements of the actors filled the room, making your stomach tighten and heat rush to your cheeks. You swallowed hard, suddenly hyper-aware of how close Rafe was beside you, his long legs sprawled out comfortably, an arm lazily draped over the back of the couch.

You shrank into yourself, pulling your knees up and hugging them close in an attempt to disappear. Maybe if you didn’t move, if you didn’t react, he wouldn’t notice.

But Rafe always noticed.

His head turned toward you, a slow smirk creeping onto his face. "What’s wrong with you?"

You shook your head quickly, refusing to meet his gaze. "Nothing."

He chuckled, clearly unconvinced. "Yeah? Then why are you all curled up like you just saw a damn ghost?" He nudged your arm playfully, but his eyes stayed locked on your face, sharp and calculating.

"I just... I wasn’t expecting that scene," you muttered, your voice embarrassingly small.

"Oh, come on," Rafe scoffed. "What, you never seen a sex scene before?" He paused, and when you didn’t answer, his smirk widened. "Wait... don’t tell me."

Your silence was loud enough.

Rafe blinked. "You’re serious?"

You sighed, forcing yourself to look at him even though your entire body felt like it was burning up. "It’s not a big deal."

"No, it kinda is," he mused, tilting his head as if he were studying you. "Like—never? You've never... done anything?"

You shook your head, fingers gripping the hem of your hoodie. "I mean, I’ve kissed people, obviously, but... I’ve never gone further."

Rafe sat back, running a hand through his hair as he let that information settle. "Huh. Never would’ve guessed."

Your heart pounded in your chest. "Yeah, well. Now you know."

But then he looked at you again, something unreadable flashing behind those sharp blue eyes. "Wait. Are you telling me you’ve never even touched yourself?"

You froze.

A nervous laugh slipped past your lips as you tried to wave him off. "Rafe—"

"No fucking way," he cut you off, grinning like he just discovered something life-changing. "You're actually serious. You’ve never, not even once—"

"Shut up!" you hissed, burying your face in your hands, mortified. "God, why did I even tell you?"

He laughed, but there was something else behind it—something intrigued, something darkly amused. "That’s wild, babe. Like, actually insane. What do you do when you get turned on?"

You groaned. "Can we not—"

"No, no, this is important," he pressed, leaning in closer, his voice lower now. "You just ignore it? You just... let it go away?"

You nodded, still not daring to look at him.

Rafe exhaled sharply, shaking his head in disbelief. "That’s a damn shame."

You dared to peek at him through your fingers. "Why do you even care?"

He grinned. "Because, sweetheart, I think someone should teach you. And lucky for you... I'm a great teacher."

Your breath caught in your throat. "Rafe—"

"Relax, I'm not saying we gotta do anything crazy." His voice had softened, but there was a distinct edge to it, something teasing, something laced with heat. "Just let me show you. You don’t have to do anything, just... follow my lead."

Your thighs clenched instinctively, a new kind of nervousness washing over you. "I don’t know..."

Rafe reached out, fingers gently brushing against yours. "I promise I’ll take care of you, baby." His voice dropped, barely above a whisper. "Let me show you how good it can feel."

Your pulse was racing, the room suddenly feeling way too small, way too warm. You shouldn’t. You really, really shouldn’t.

But then you nodded.

And Rafe smirked like he’d just won the biggest game of his life.

"Good girl."

—

Rafe took his time, his voice smooth and reassuring as he guided you. His hands never left yours, his fingers wrapped around your wrist as he coaxed you into exploring yourself. "Slow," he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. "Don't rush it, baby. Feel everything."

The soft whimper that slipped past your lips had him groaning low in his throat. "Fuck," he muttered, shifting beside you. "You sound so pretty."

You had never felt this before—this throbbing ache, this intoxicating heat pooling in your stomach. Rafe’s presence, his touch, his voice—it was overwhelming in the best way. And when you faltered, unsure, frustrated by your own inexperience, he was right there, his lips brushing against your temple as he whispered, "Let me."

And when you finally caved, when you whispered his name with desperate need, he didn’t hesitate.

His hand replaced yours, firm and confident, his touch sending shockwaves through your trembling body. "That’s it, baby," he praised, watching you with hungry, hooded eyes. "Let me take care of you."

He was slow, deliberate, making sure you felt everything, making sure you knew exactly how good he could make you feel. His fingers curled just right, pressing into the spot that had your back arching and your breath hitching in a broken moan.

"Oh, fuck," he groaned, pressing his forehead against yours. "You’re so fucking wet."

Your nails dug into his arm as pleasure crashed over you in waves, your body shuddering against him as he coaxed you through your first orgasm. And when it was over, when you finally collapsed against his chest, breathless and spent, he chuckled, pressing a lazy kiss to your forehead.

"Told you I was a good teacher."

[reiding-writing]

Heyy!! i was wondering if you could perchance do a drabble with dad!spencer and mom!bau!reader where they've gotten into the rhythm of calling each other mommy and daddy in front of the kids and one of them accidentally slips up and does it work without realising. And then the team is like "hold on 🤨" (probably morgan) and they have to defend themselves. Just something i've been thinking about and i don't have the artistic ability to right it myself but you do! Thank youuuu! xxx

SLIP UP. /spencer reid/

your at-home naming habits find their way into the office.

bau!mom!reader 1.1k fluff masterlist.

a/n | this is so funny i love it.

The bullpen hums with its usual energy—phones ringing, keyboards clacking, conversations weaving through the space.

It’s late, and exhaustion weighs on everyone like a heavy fog. Cases have been stacking up, the paperwork never-ending, and you’re all running on caffeine and whatever sugar-laden snack Garcia has left in the breakroom.

You and Spencer, despite being used to sleepless nights—courtesy of two small children at home—are still feeling the burn.

Parenting while profiling is a delicate balance, and some days, it feels like you barely hold it together. But you've found ways to cope, to slip into a rhythm that works.

Spencer leans over his desk, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he scans a report. His hair is slightly disheveled—likely from running his hands through it—and his tie is loosened, his sleeves rolled up. He looks exactly how you feel, drained.

You, seated across from him, are going through another file when you sigh and reach for the next document. “Pass Mommy the file, please,”

The moment the words leave your mouth, the bullpen stills. For a brief second, no one reacts. Not even Spencer, who doesn’t hesitate to slide the file over to you, his tired brain not even registering what just happened.

But then—

“Hold on, what?”

Your head snaps up so fast you nearly give yourself whiplash. Across the table, Morgan is staring at you with wide eyes, a slow, knowing smirk spreading across his face. JJ’s eyebrows are raised nearly to her hairline, and even Rossi has paused his paperwork, looking mildly amused.

Hotch looks like he’s trying very hard not to react.

You glance at Spencer, who is blinking rapidly, his brain trying to catch up with what just happened.

And then, it hits you.

“Oh my God.” Your stomach drops. Heat rushes to your face. “I didn’t mean—”

Morgan leans forward, elbows on the table, his smirk growing. “Did you just refer to yourself as Mommy?”

Spencer makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat. “It’s— It’s not—”

“Because I swear I just heard that,” Morgan continues, clearly enjoying himself.

JJ covers her mouth, eyes twinkling with suppressed laughter.

You groan, dropping your face into your hands. “It’s not what you think,”

“Oh, I think it’s exactly what I think.” Morgan chuckles, leaning back in his chair. “Reid, you calling her Mommy at home?”

Spencer makes another choked noise, shaking his head furiously. “No! I mean— yes, but not like that!”

JJ snorts, and even Hotch finally cracks, pinching the bridge of his nose like he’s debating whether or not to intervene.

You lift your head, groaning again. “We have two kids under four. There’s a lot of third-person referencing, okay?”

Morgan raises an eyebrow, amused.

Spencer, still red-faced, starts rambling. “It’s a psychological phenomenon, actually. When individuals—particularly parents—are frequently addressed in a particular way, their brains develop an associative response, reinforcing the use of the terms even in situations outside the expected context. It’s entirely innocent. Just an unconscious linguistic habit.”

Morgan whistles low. “Damn, Pretty Boy. You really just tried to profile your way out of calling your wife ‘Mommy’ in front of us,”

Spencer groans, burying his face in his hands.

Your face feels impossibly warm. “We’re tired, Morgan. We haven’t had a full night’s sleep in—” You glance at Spencer. “How long has it been?”

“Three years, three months, and sixteen days,” he answers automatically.

Morgan lets out a low whistle. “Damn,”

Emily places a hand over her heart. “That’s actually kind of adorable,”

Garcia practically vibrates with excitement. “This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I need to hear more,”

“There’s nothing more to hear,” Spencer says, shaking his head quickly. “It’s just a habit. Strictly innocent,”

“Oh, we believe you,” Rossi says, the corners of his mouth twitching. “That doesn’t mean we’re going to let it go,”

“Not a chance,” Morgan agrees.

You groan, dropping your head into your hands. “This is never going away, is it?”

“Nope,” JJ says cheerfully.

Spencer sighs, rubbing his temples. “Great.”

And just like that, the teasing begins.

For the rest of the day—and likely for weeks to come—you hear variations of:

“Daddy, can you pass me that report?” from Emily.

“I don’t know, Mommy, what do you think?” from Morgan.

Garcia, of course, takes it the farthest, occasionally referring to you both as “Mommy and Daddy dearest,” complete with exaggerated winks.

By the time you make it home that evening, you collapse onto the couch with a groan, Spencer falling beside you.

“I’m never going to live this down,” you mumble.

“At least they think it’s funny,” Spencer says, leaning his head back against the cushions.

You sigh. “This is your fault,”

He turns his head to look at you, eyebrows raised. “My fault?”

“You didn’t even hesitate when I said it. You just handed me the file like it was totally normal,”

His lips twitch. “To be fair, it is normal,”

You nudge him with your foot. “Not at work, it isn’t,”

He chuckles, then tilts his head, considering. “Maybe if we just… pretend it never happened, they’ll drop it,”

You snort. “You really think that’s going to work?”

“…No,”

“Exactly.” You groan again, rubbing your hands over your face. “I’m never going to hear the end of this,”

Spencer smiles softly, reaching over to squeeze your hand. “At least we’re in it together, Mommy,”

You open your eyes just to glare at him. “You better not start doing that on purpose,”

He presses his lips together, trying to suppress a grin.

“Spencer,” you warn.

His grin widens. “Yes, Mommy?”

You grab a throw pillow and smack him with it, and his laughter fills the room, warm and familiar.

Exhausted as you both are, you wouldn’t trade this—your life, your family, the teasing from your team—for anything in the world.

[koushuwu]

*:･ﾟ✧ SILENT POEM

content (warnings): not suitable for minors, his dialog directly transcribed from the english memory banner, afab!reader, penetrative sex, reverse scoop, emotional sex, lots of kissing, dubcon (if you squint), playful lovemaking, no editing we die like men.

『•• zayne | words: 1,9k | LaDS masterlist ••』

excerpt: he kissed your neck. once. twice. then, he let out a shuddered breath, and whispered as if in a plea. “say my name.”

“rest in my embrace,” he said. and who were you to say no, really? zayne’s arm draped around your middle and pulled you impossibly closer as you lay there with your back firmly pressed against the hard planes of his chest. his abdomen. his warm skin. “just like this.” you pushed closer, adjusted in his arms and barely stifled a giggle when he inhaled sharply.

you’d been coaxing him for a while. ever since he came back from his late shift at the hospital. since the moment you’d offered to help him relax, he’d known exactly what your objective was, but he wasn’t one to deter your plans, so he’d played along. he’d let you massage his sore muscles when you playfully skirted around the true objective of your advances. he’d played along perched you on his lap as you did, wordlessly showing you that your efforts bore fruit. he played along for it all. mostly. he hadn’t been entirely able to help himself when you spilled that water on yourself earlier. he watched the droplets trickle down your neck and no force of nature could have stopped him from diving in. you skin had been warm under his tongue. nothing short of intoxicating, really.

“now–” he said, lips caressing your neck in a scorching kiss, his fingers gently caressing your skin as they moved south. “let me tell you–” he kissed your neck once more, the taste of your skin addicting to him. the breath you sucked in as he did. the heat dusting your features. instinctively, he angled your leg to give himself better access. wordlessly zayne encouraged you to hold still, just like that, when his length pressed against you. “how much i missed you when we couldn’t see each other.” his lips connected with that very spot where your neck meets your shoulder, when he knew you’d hold your leg up for him. the sheets rustled as he positioned himself better and pushed.

your breathing hitched as the tip pressed inside, and you tensed. he grabbed hold of your thigh once more and propped himself up on his elbow. zayne loomed above you, those intense eyes searching your face. your eyes screwed shut, mouth slack was truly a sight for him to behold. something he wished to commit to memory. something for him to cherish. and he did. he really did. even as your entrance clamped down so hard on his cock he could hardly move. maybe he hadn’t prepared you properly. you always did say he was too big for his own good. he should’ve– but it was too late to go back now. he leaned down.

“relax,” he said. hushed. his breath fanned against your ear as he spoke. his lips pressed against your skin. like that, zayne breathed you in, and how did he even expect you to relax like this? with his warm bare skin against yours, his breath against your ear and your neck. with the way his presence loomed behind you. all around you. inside you. how were you supposed to relax? you tried though. you always tried for him. zayne rolled his hips to thrust in a little further. 

“shit–” you couldn’t help but lurch forward in his hold.

“i’m sorry.” zayne’s movements stilled, if only for a moment. he studied you. “i didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said. but he knew you. he knew what that face meant. he rolled his hips again, pushing in further. slowly. ever so slowly. your eyes were shining as you turned your face to look up at him.

“zayne–” his name barely more than a whimper, but he nodded anyway. he heard you. he had you. whatever you may need. “kiss me.” the restraints on his self control shuddered at your words. they were so soft. almost like a plea on your lips and he wanted nothing else than to give you what you asked. so he did. his lips pressed against your, and his breath caught in his throat as he yanked the reins hard do keep himself in check. he wanted was going to go slow. he was going to make this last, even if it took every single ounce of his strength.

“does it still hurt?” without hesitation, zayne moved his hand to your hip and pulled, shifting you towards him. angling you to give himself even easier access, zayne slowly, oh so slowly slowly rolled his hips to finally slip in fully, sucking in a breath at your snug warmth welcoming him home. “what about this?” he asked and kissed your lips again. “do you feel better now?” he swallowed your answer before you had the chance to even open your mouth.

playfully, as if to shut him up, as if to ensure him it didn’t hurt, you nibbed at his bottom lip. zayne was big, but you’d known what you wanted and you hadn’t exactly been unprepared yourself, even before he came back. but it was zayne and his mere presence alone was enough to make you shudder. despite coming off as cold, zayne was an intense man, and when he let go, and when he let himself indulge in you. it was overwhelming to say the least. overwhelming, but so good. you shuddered when he whispered into your ear again.

“or… do you want to change positions?” you pressed back against him, squawking when his length pressed deeper. he was almost fully sheathed inside you, yet he kept going so slow. it was hard to think.

“can you—“ you start, voice carrying a tinge of frustration, yet still hushed as if you couldn’t quite bring yourself to disrupt the quiet of the room. “just do it. stop asking all these questions!”

“what do you mean… just do it and stop asking questions?” as he spoke, zayne let his fingers trail softly down your side, leaving a flood of tingles in their wake. your skin felt alive. he watched the way goosebumps rose on your skin. you were perfect. nothing short of. you his home. his safe space. you were his. “didn’t you ask me how much i missed you?” as if to punctuate his sentiment, he pulled back, planting his lips against yours in a bruising kiss. the way your pussy clamped down on his cock had him pulling in a sharp breath before burying himself fully inside you. you felt perfect. entirely and utterly perfect as you squeezed him and wriggled against him. the sounds threatening to spill all swallowed by his lips. his tongue as it ran across your lower lip.

as he broke the kiss, you reached behind you and pulled him back by the neck. you weren’t done. but instead of pressing his lips to yours once more, he instead leaned his forehead against yours, eyes locked on yours. there was a little smile there. a sincere, loving one, that made his eyes sparkle, as he looked at you. one that almost covered up the little glimmer of mirth in his eye as zayne still didn’t kiss you. instead, he settled into an excruciatingly slow pace, as he deliberately pushed in as deep as he possible could, with every single thrust. his fingers lightly caressed your hip as he spoke against your lips.

“so much time has passed, no? don’t you want me to say something?” the little smile on his lips morphed to dorn a teasing lilt as he spoke. barely there, yet you saw it clearly. with his fingers grazing your skin, he let them dip down to your front. your eyes fell shut when the pads of his fingers firmly circled your clit. once. twice. then slipped even further between your legs. with two long fingers, he spread your folds on either side of his cock, spreading you even further open for him, earning him an entirely unrestrained and revaborating moan in return.

teeth clamped together when you quickly shut your mouth. you hadn’t meant to be so loud. you weren’t ashamed. you were surprised more than anything, swiftly facing away from him. pressing against the pillow, your breathing became even heavier at the sensation if zayne’s fingers aiding his movements against you. inside you. he gave a barely audible chuckle and leaned into your ear to whisper.

“tired already?” you press further against him, burying your face further into the bed, his teasing not going unnoticed. “you want to sleep?” he asked and you nodded. you weren’t actually tired. you didn’t actually want to sleep. you both knew that. but if he was going to tease you, then you might as well play along.

when zayne’s breath fanned against the shell of your ear, you shuddered. your skin felt scorched as he pulled you impossibly closer, fingers slipping through your folds as the tip of his cock kissed that spot within you that had your cunt fluttering around him.

“we’re not done here,” he said, your own ragged breathing caught in your throat, teeth now sinking into your bottom lip at his words. zayne was many things, and while a tease wasn’t the word most people would use to describe him, you knew better than most. even with his voice steady, only betrayed by his heavy breathing, his taunts were clear as day to you. and maybe, just maybe you did kind of like that about him. not that you would ever tell him that of course. especially not like this. “quitting halfway isn’t something i would do.”

“let me teach you how to do it then,” you bit out, straining to keep your voice as steady as his, as you looked back up at him and rocked back against his cock, forcing his thrusts to meet with yours. with a hiss, he caught hold of your hip, halting your movements. your attempts at speeding up his pace. not yet. not yet. zayne heaved a heavy breath, then brushed his nose against yours.

“the night is still young. we have plenty of time to learn from each other.” you really couldn’t help but smile at him as you reached up to cup his cheek. he nuzzled against your touch, something that only made your smile grow.

now.

zayne thrust deep into your warmth, finally picking up his pace like you’d wished for him to do. brushing against that special spot within you. as he thrust inside, he caught your lips with his own, swallowing your sounds before they escaped.

“let me hear your voice,” he said, kissing you again. you pinched his cheek, making him draw back. you had half a mind to think he was being a fool for expecting you to let him hear anything while he was kissing you like that. but any semblance of the notion vanished as he picked up his pace further. the wet sounds of his cock thrusting into your cunt. of skin slapping against skin. it was intoxicating. you couldn’t help but moan at the way he filled you up again and again. zayne’s breath coming in harsh pants as he grew more and more breathless.

“right now. just like this.” zayne snapped his hips rhythmically now guiding your hips towards his as well. he kissed your lips hard, seemingly unbothered by his state of breathlessness. as if all he wanted to do with what little breath he had, was to share it with you. just like he would share anything else with you. everything. you broke away for air and he kissed your neck. once. twice. then, he let out a shuddered breath, and whispered as if in a plea. “say my name.”

“zayne–”

thank you for reading <3

[writeriguess]

Can you write a Dabi x female reader, where reader is Katsuki's sister and in secret relationship with Dabi?? Reader is not a prohero and doesn't have any quirks. Katsuki is sssssuper protective of her and Dabi just lives for it. He throws hints about her and their relationship while fighting Katsuki, but he doesn't catch up, he thinks it's just some nonsense a crazy person would say. This is probs stupid but I'm just... crazy about Katsuki's sister reader x Dabi trope and I wish there was more of it 😩

author's note: Oh I love this scenario and I loved writing this fic <3

Burned in Secret

You’ve spent your whole life in the shadow of someone explosive—your brother, Katsuki Bakugo. It was never easy being the quirkless sibling of a pro-hero, especially not when that hero was the loudest, most aggressive, and most protective person you knew. He had a way of acting like the world was out to get you, like you were made of glass and would shatter if he wasn’t watching. You loved him for it, but at the same time, he didn’t understand that you weren’t some delicate little thing. You could handle yourself.

And, well… you handled yourself right into the arms of the last person Katsuki would ever approve of.

Dabi.

You weren’t exactly sure how it happened. Maybe it was because, in some ways, he was everything your brother wasn’t. Katsuki was all fire and noise; Dabi was quiet destruction. Where Katsuki burned hot and bright, Dabi burned slow and deep, dangerous in a way that sent a thrill through your veins. You met him through circumstances that should’ve never led to romance—he was a villain, after all. But something about his smirks, the way he looked at you like you were something interesting, something real, had you falling before you even realized it. And despite his nonchalant attitude toward most things, you found that he actually cared in his own twisted way.

The relationship was a secret, of course. If Katsuki ever found out, there’d be hell to pay.

Which is exactly why Dabi loved to drop hints.

The battlefield was in ruins, buildings crumbling, smoke filling the air. Katsuki stood in the middle of it all, blood trickling down his forehead, hands still crackling with residual explosions. He was glaring at the man standing across from him, the one whose stitched grin hadn’t wavered once throughout the fight.

“You just don’t shut up, do you?” Katsuki snarled, flexing his fingers like he was resisting the urge to blast him into oblivion.

Dabi smirked. “What can I say? You’re fun to mess with.” He rolled his shoulders, barely fazed by the heat in the air. “Though I gotta admit, you’re a little denser than I expected.”

“The hell is that supposed to mean?”

Dabi let out a low chuckle, tilting his head just enough to let his bangs fall into his eyes. “Just thinking about how protective you are. Cute, really.”

Katsuki’s scowl deepened. “Shut the hell up.”

“You act like you can keep everything precious to you locked up tight, but people have secrets, Dynamight.” Dabi’s tongue flicked out over his lower lip, dry and cracked. “People do things in the dark they’d never do in the light. Even the ones closest to you.”

Katsuki barely stopped himself from lunging. “What the fuck are you on about?”

Dabi just grinned, the kind of grin that set Katsuki’s teeth on edge. “Nothing. Just thinking about how funny it’d be if someone close to you was keeping a little something from you. Something big.” He raised his hand, wiggling his fingers as if in thought. “Like, I don’t know… a secret relationship?”

Katsuki froze for half a second before shaking his head violently. “You really are a lunatic. What the fuck are you even talking about?”

Dabi just shrugged. “Just a thought.”

With a snarl, Katsuki launched himself forward, palm sparking. Dabi dodged effortlessly, laughing under his breath as if this was all a game to him. In some ways, it was.

Because he knew the truth.

He knew that the moment this fight was over, he’d find you waiting for him in the shadows, worried and scolding him for teasing your brother. He’d get to hear your voice, feel your hands fussing over his burns even though he told you not to bother. He’d get to be with you, touch you, kiss you. And your precious big brother? The one who thought he had everything under control? He had no idea.

And Dabi lived for it.

Later that night, when you met him in your usual spot, you smacked him lightly on the arm. “You were messing with him again, weren’t you?”

Dabi chuckled, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close. “Maybe.”

“You’re going to slip up one day,” you huffed, though your hands still rested against his chest. “And he’s going to actually kill you.”

“I’d like to see him try.” He leaned down, brushing his lips over yours. “Besides, what’s life without a little risk?”

You sighed against his mouth, knowing this was just who he was. Knowing that, despite everything, you wouldn’t change him for the world.

And knowing that when Katsuki finally found out, all hell was going to break loose.

[akawifeyy]

friends with benefits | fic (FC43)

description: it’s six months into your relationship with formula one driver franco colapinto, but you’re still believing the delusional lie that there’s no strings attached.

tropes: no strings attached, he’s obsessed with you, playboy, girlfriend!fem!reader

face claim: none

trigger warnings: suggestive and mature content (!!), minor mentions of violence, swearing

| note: agh i love franco so much, i wish there was more f1 content with him

Franco kissed you, his touch soft as a feather while his fingers splayed across your skin, worshipping your curves. He knew every inch of you, committing it to memory like you’d evaporate in his arms if he didn’t do so. “Mmm, mi alma, I love you,” he murmured in the shell of your ear, his breath warm. “I don’t know how I could ever live without you.”

You froze, going deathly still, at a loss of words. I love you. This was the first time he had ever uttered that phrase, and you were struck dumb, unable to respond.

Noticing your distress, Franco cupped your cheek in reassurance, his eyes crinkling at the edges as he grinned. “You don’t have to say it back. I understand. I want you to mean it when you do tell me it.”

“No, that’s not it,” you whispered, face flushing with embarrassment. You didn’t want to tell him, didn’t want to break the spell and ruin the sweet moment. With Franco’s rapidly intensifying schedule, time between you was being whittled down more and more.

Franco’s eyebrows furrowed, concern etching lines in his face. “¿Que te pasa?”

Averting your gaze, you quickly blurted, “I didn’t realize we were so serious. I guess I still thought we were just hooking up, no strings attached. Hearing you say that…It’s just shocking.”

He reared back, dropping his hand from your face like he had been burnt. “Are you trying to tell me that there’s someone else you’d rather have been spending your time with?” His eyes hardened with hurt as he imagined you underneath some faceless man while he made love to you. In Franco’s mind, the two of you had been together since he’d taken you out on that first date in Buenos Aires, exploring his hometown with you by his side. Ever since then, you were inseparable. So why were you pretending otherwise?

You shook your head, suddenly feeling stupid. “No, of course not, I just assumed you’d find someone better and leave me. I thought all Formula One drivers were like that.”

Franco blinked. “There is no girl better than you, Y/N. And I’m not all Formula One drivers, I’m my own person.”

“Well…” You squirmed out of his reach, turning away from him as you fumbled for the right thing to say. “So, we’re… together? You want to be with me? For real?”

He nodded vigorously. “I’ve always wanted to be with you. I thought I made this clear.”

You twisted your lips, guilt gnawing at your insides. “It didn’t click. I’m sorry.”

“I’ve been calling you mi novia to my parents ever since day one,” Franco said, expelling a breath. “Telling them that I’ve found my wife, I’ve found the woman I will marry and spend the rest of my days with. And the whole time you’ve been believing that we were nothing? Just fuck buddies?”

Heat permeated your skin, and you thought you might die from the humiliation. “I’m sorry, Franco.”

“You’re not just a good fuck for me, Y/N,” Franco hissed, stepping close to you and jerking your head up so you would be forced to look at him. Arousal pooled in your lower gut as you watched frustration grow in his piercing stare. “You’re my everything. Why else would I buy you everything you want? Why would I make you wear my jersey, hold your hand in public, warn other men off and threaten to chop their dicks off? Just to have some fun?”

Your eyes fluttered shut as his words sunk in. “I’m sorry.”

“You keep saying that, but you don’t understand how upset I am with you,” Franco retorted. He tugged you roughly, crashing his lips against your forehead. “Mierda. Six months, and you really thought you were just another warm body for me?”

You covered your mouth with your hands, all semblances of speech eradicated.

“You’re not. Get that idea out of your head.” Franco’s eyes narrowed to slits. “We’re not fuck buddies, or some other crazy shit. We do have strings attached, because I’m in love with you. And I’m never giving you up for another woman. Not in a thousand years.”

You inclined your head. “OK, if you say so.”

“Good.” Franco touched your chin again with one finger. “Now let’s get back to what we were doing, hm?”

A moan broke free as he lowered your shirt, revealing the bare skin of your shoulder and collarbones. A flurry of kisses were embedded as his own shirt was removed and you were placed carefully on the bed. He positioned himself on top, his strong arms barricading you and muscles flexing as he began working his way down to your pussy. When your skirt was tossed on the floor along with your panties, he began his conquest, two fingers sliding in you without much difficulty.

“It’s like you’re built for me,” Franco growled. “So fucking ready.”

You swallowed back another moan as he extricated his fingers, instead replacing it with his cock.

“¿Todo bien?” he asked a few minutes later, languidly thrusting as sweat beaded on his forehead and upper lip. “Do I need to stop?”

You shook your head feebly. “No, please, Franco,” you mewled.

“I hope you know that I adore you, hermosa. I don’t care if this is too much, too soon, because my emotions are going to swallow me whole if I don’t tell you.” Franco groaned as he dug deeper, his entire body pulsing with unspent energy as his release neared. “You live in my every heartbeat, you linger in my thoughts. When I am away from you, I feel like I will die.”

“I...” Your breath was shaky as you continued, “I love you, Franco.”

“If my legacy is to be your lover, then so be it,” he added. “Haría cualquier cosa por ti.”

And together, the pleasure that had been steadily mounting reached its breaking point, and you unraveled together.

Two souls, in sync. The way you wanted it to be forever.

─── ୨୧ ─── THE END ─── ୨୧ ───

[cosmicmunsonwrites]

can you do rafe is your brother’s best friend?

a phone works two ways, you know

brothers best friend!rafe cameron x thornton!fem!reader

cw — fluff, angst, kinda sad if you squint but also kinda happy ending, alcohol

summary — rafe does his best to hide his feelings for his best friends younger sister until he cracks one day.

authors note — thank you so much for the request!! i’ll probably be posting a little celebration for 1.5k today where i’ll be writing as much as i can for as many requests as possible so please stay tuned for that :)

“topper, did you take my speaker again?” you asked your older brother, voice soft but teetering on the verge of annoyance. he always did this. he snuck into your room when you were out and stole it, drained the battery, then forgets to give it back as if he can’t just buy his own. “i’m going out to the pool and i need it.”

the three boys turned their heads over their shoulders, kelce murmuring something under his breath, rafe just staring at you, and topper fake gagging from his spot between them. you were wearing a baby pink triangle bikini with a towel in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. “jeez, can you at least put some clothes on? my friends are here.”

you rolled your eyes at him and huffed. “its a million degrees outside and i’m literally going in the pool,” you said as if it were obvious. “can you just get my speaker please?”

“its dead,” he said dismissively before turning back to the tv to watch the football game with kelce. rafes gaze lingered for a couple extra seconds until he followed their actions.

a groan left your lips as you turned on your heel and headed for the back door. “you’re the worst,” you mumbled before shutting it behind you. thankfully your tanning chair was already set out from the day before, so you carefully laid your towel down and your water bottle underneath it then sat on the ledge with your feet splashing in the water.

you casually scrolled through your socials, checking up on what was going on as of late considering you hadn’t done much but sit in your room with sarah. after a few minutes of sitting alone, the door opened. the sound didn’t catch your attention and neither did the footsteps. you didn’t even notice anyone was outside with you until water splashed all over you.

a gasp left your lips and you watched the culprit return to surface in the water. you glared at rafe who was now smiling and rubbing his eyes. “dude. are you serious? i had my phone in my hand.”

he could only laugh. “you’re by the pool. why do you even need it?” he asked teasingly. it only made you more annoyed.

“i was doing stuff, asshole,” you muttered, pushing the wet strands of your hair behind your ears.

he quickly swam over to you and grabbed your phone from your hand then tossed it over to your chair. he parted your legs slightly and stood between them with his big hands resting on your upper thighs. “i think,” he began, his thumbs rubbing soft circles into your damp skin. “you should just pay attention to me instead.”

you chuckled under your breath and pushed at his shoulder gently. “you’re such a cornball,” you replied jokingly. “why are you even out here? shouldn’t you be watching the game with them?”

“kelce started bitchin’ about how it was too hot so topper got all pissy and suggested coming in here with you,” he explained, his blue piercing eyes staring up into yours. “i mean, c’mon. you know i’d never deny the opportunity to see you.”

you shook your head and looked away. “don’t do that, rafe,” you said firmly. you chewed your lip anxiously and pushed his hands off of you. small beads of sweat formed on your forehead from the heat and beaming sun, making you quickly get off the ledge and into the cool water.

he tilted his head slightly and turned to watch your movements as you created a small distance between the two of you. “do what?”

“that,” you stated. “don’t say things like that. the moment topper comes out here, you’ll act completely different and pretend none of this ever happened. you can’t just do that. its not fair and it makes me feel like crap.”

he moved forward so he was close enough to grab you with a frown on his lips, his hands gently holding your waist and bringing you to him so your front was pressed flush against his own. “you know i wouldn’t if i had the choice, sweetheart. we both know top would kill me if he ever found out.”

you pushed away from his again as he hands fell from your body and limp by his sides. “maybe you should’ve thought about that before you kissed me then.”

your first kiss. it was a week ago when he’d taken you out to get ice cream while your brother was out at a party that he had no interest in attending, especially if it meant he’d have you all to himself for a few hours. he’d driven you to some cute little ice cream parlor by the beach and kissed you under the stars like it was some movie and you two were the main characters. you thought things would be different after that. apparently you were really far off.

“c’mon baby, its not like that. you’re making it seem like that was a mistake,” he tried to reason. he didn’t like the fact that you were stepping further and further away from him. it made his heart clench uncomfortably. “i don’t regret that and i don’t want you to either. trust me, if it weren’t for topper, things would be different. we jus’ have to let him warm up to the idea.”

you scoffed under your breath and looked down at the sparkling water. “yeah? and how long is that gonna take? weeks? months? years even?” your voice was surprisingly calm and it was beginning to genuinely worry him. “you knew how special that was to me. and in all honesty, it does feel like a mistake, rafe. if you weren’t planning on having anything serious with me then you shouldn’t have even bothered. i’m not gonna let my brothers opinion dictate my entire life and you shouldn’t either.”

you could visibly see his posture drop slightly and his expression turn into and unreadable one. before he could try to convince you otherwise, the two boys emerged from the house all smiley and cheering loudly. “we found the good booze,” topper said excitedly.

they each took a bottle of beer, kelce handing one to rafe before giving you a glass cup full of a thick pink slush. “top made it for you since you’re too boujee for beer,” he joked while walking down the pool steps.

your brother joined the three of you in the water and took a quick sip of his drink. “i tried making that strawberry shit you liked in mexico,” he explained, waving his free hand around carelessly. “used vodka instead of rum though since you apparently don’t like that either.”

you laughed softly and thanked him as you listened in on the conversation kelce started up with rafe. except it was more of him just talking to anyone who cared to listen considering the others attention was elsewhere. the moment you glanced around the pool, your eyes met rafes. they hadn’t left you even for a second since you moved away from him.

— a few hours later

the house was now full of people. the scent of expensive cologne, alcohol, and a dull mix of sweat permeated the air and made your head spin slightly as you squeezed through the crowd and outside to the patio where more people were. lucky for you, the cooler full of what you needed was right beside the door.

you quickly reached down to grab a beer for sarah and a bottle of smirnoff pink lemonade. the moment you stood, a boy you recognized was standing at your side. “hey. you’re toppers sister, right?”

your brows furrowed as your eyes met his green ones. he was cute, you couldn’t lie but you were definitely caught off guard. “yeah,” you said wearily. “and you are?”

he chuckled softly and readjusted his stance to be a little more comfortable. “mike,” he stated. “we met once a little while ago at a party. i jus’ wanted to say you look really good tonight.”

a blush creeped across your cheeks and you smiled to yourself. “thank you,” you replied sheepishly. “you’re one of my brothers friends from school?”

he nodded and flashed a smile. “yeah, we met through our frat. we both happened to be rushing alone.”

you jokingly made a disgusted face and turned your head to look the other way. “whew. top always told me to stay away from frat boys. he says they’re dangerous.”

mike let out a hearty laugh. “not all of ‘em,” he said suggestively. “maybe come with me and find out?”

“i think shes gonna have to pass on that, dude. sorry,” you heard rafe chime in as he appeared next to you and wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you into his side. “actually, i just ran into your other girl inside. think she was lookin’ for you..”

you rolled your eyes and pushed yourself away from him. he didn’t get to dismiss you at one point then want you at another. “you’re ridiculous, rafe,” you said before squeezing past mike and pushing through the crowd to get up the stairs and to your room.

when you got inside, sarah was laying on her back in your bed scrolling through her phone. “finally. thought you got lost and i was gonna have to come down there and rescue you,” she joked playfully.

you handed her the beer and placed your own on the counter. “you should’ve. at least i wouldn’t have had to endure whatever that was down there,” you mumbled. “i’ll be right back. i need to use the bathroom really quick then we can get back to watching.”

as you left your room and shut the door behind you, you caught a glimpse of rafe coming up the stairs. you laughed angrily and headed towards the open door down the hall. “wait,” you heard him call out. you attempted to close the door, only for him to catch it before it clasped shut. “can you just talk to me?”

“can you stop being such a douche?” you shot back, crossing your arms over your chest. “what the hell was that out there? i was talking to someone. you don’t just get to pick and choose when you want to be with me. and you definitely have no right to just come in and get all protective over me.”

he sighed softly and stepped inside the bathroom with you, closing the door behind him. “with mike? really? he sleeps with everyone and jus’ moves on to another girl an hour later. trust me, you don’t want that.”

you could feel the rage bubbling deep in your stomach. he had some nerve. “what if i do? what makes you think you can tell me what i want and don’t want?”

“because i know you and i know you aren’t one to just sleep with someone random. what happened to that whole conversation about needing a connection with someone?” he questioned.

“were you also thinking about this when you kissed me?” you snapped back. “you do all these things to make me think you actually like me and then you just make me feel like an idiot the moment we’re in a crowd. you barely even talk to me when toppers around, rafe. i’m not gonna keep getting my feelings hurt over nothing.”

he shook his head and uncrossed you arms, taking your hands in his bigger ones. “i don’t wanna hurt your feelings, sweetheart. you know i wanna be with you. i just— i can’t do that to topper. he’s my best friend and—“

“then we can save the hassle and stop talking about this,” you interrupted. “you don’t get to get my hopes up anymore. i’m not doing it. its either you want to be with me or you don’t. if you really want to be with me, then you’d be willing to make sacrifices. do you really think i expect my brother to be completely okay with it? of course not. but i’m willing to work through that. if you’re not then theres no point in continuing this and you can leave.”

a frown spread across his lips and he looked down at his hands that were still holding yours, his thumb rubbing circles into the backside of your hand. “i wanna be with you, i really do. and i don’t wanna lose you over this,” he said softy. “can we just take things slow? i don’t care what topper thinks, i jus’ don’t want him to try to stop us from seeing each other.

you stared at him with a slight hesitation in your gaze. “how do i know you’re being serious? how do i know you’re not just gonna flake out on me again?”

he squeezed your hands a little tighter and took a step closer so there was only a couple inches between the two of you. “cause its always been you, sweetheart. you’re the only person i’ve ever felt this way about and i really, really don’t wanna lose you,” he explained. “i like you a lot. it scares the shit outta me but i��d rather do this with you than anyone else.”

you felt heat creep up your neck and onto your cheeks. “please don’t make me regret this, rafe.”

he smiled before moving one hand to cradle your jaw and the other to your waist. he pulled you close and placed a soft kiss to your lips, tilting his head slightly to deepen it as it went on. your arms wrapped around his neck and you arched your body just enough to press against him.

a muffled whimper left your lips when he squeezed gently at your hip and slipped his tongue into your mouth. you could feel your heart pound in your chest. you’d never gone this far. fortunately he was taking it slow though and allowing you time to mimic his movements.

too caught up in the moment, you didn’t even hear the door open. “what the fuck?”

[7-deadly-cats]

killing me softly (part five)

genre: slow burn fic, fluff with hints of angst, light drama, no explicit smut

kms masterlist | <- part four | part six (soon) ->

pairing: rafe cameron x fem!introverted!kook!reader

cw: swearing, suggestive language, overthinking, light tension, kelce being kelce

synopsys: it's the last year of high school and y/n is paired up with rafe cameron for a 2 week long project in art class. this wouldn't be a problem if y/n wasn't awkward as hell and well ... if there wasn't her big fat crush on him. could this be the beginning of a friendship or maybe even more? one thing was certain: rafe cameron's intense, impulsive, and complex in ways that weren't always for the better, and y/n's mind? that shit was even more tangled. but she hadn't spent seven years crushing on him from a distance just to let this chance slip through her fingers ... right?

summary of recent events: starting the day with the struggle to focus after texting rafe the night before, he unexpectedly asks you to sit with him in the back row of economics class. having forgotten his pizza date with his friends, he invites you to join them to work on your project at kelce’s instead of staying in school. despite your hesitation, you agree. feeling out of place as you sit in his car on the way to kelce’s, rafe makes a seemingly casual attempt to ease your nerves along the way.

word count: 4.5k+

a/n: thank you guys sm for the kind words and support on the last one, this always means sm to me <3 i also had sm fun with this one and felt like it’s time for the first little drama highigi. also next part will include a little rafe pov 😈 anyway, hope you enjoy <3

"Yo, what took you so long? Did you two have a quickie in the car or something?" That was the first thing Kelce Statter said as he opened the front door, glancing between you and Rafe with an amused grin, his pupils just a little too wide.

WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?!

And here we go.

Like clockwork, heat shot straight to your cheeks, and as usual, whenever you were overwhelmed and didn’t know how to react, that tense, awkward smile appeared on your face.

Not even a minute here, and one dumb comment had already thrown you off balance. This was off to a fantastic start.

Rafe let out an annoyed snort. "Kelce, shut the fuck up."

"Whoa, dude, no need to get your claws out." Kelce raised his hands in mock innocence, tilting his head with a smug smirk. His gaze landed on you—your awkward smile and deep red face more specifically—before flicking back to Rafe. "Aww, you got her all shy and flustered. You must’ve been good."

Okay, that’s it. THIS was officially the most awkward moment of your life, and the worst part? You were too stunned to speak.

Rafe ran a hand down his face, clearly over Kelce’s shit, before shooting him a sharp glare. "Jesus Christ, dude, do me a favor and, just once in your fucking life, pull your head out of your ugly ass."

Wow. What subtlety. You honestly couldn’t tell if Rafe liked or despised him. Probably something in between both.

Before Kelce—still stupidly grinning—could fire back, Rafe stepped into the doorway and shoved him (softly?) aside. "Now move, before I deck you."

"Love you too, bro," Kelce said, throwing a wink in your direction, before disappearing down the hallway.

Well, what an interesting dynamic.

Rafe turned back to you with an exasperated sigh. "I swear I’m gonna kill that idiot one day."

Now would be a good time to SAY SOMETHING.

A nervous laugh escaped your lips as you smiled awkwardly, blurting out dryly, "He seems… nice."

NICE? Of all the words you could’ve chosen, 'nice' had to be at the very bottom of the list to describe Kelce Statter.

Rafe let out a short, amused breath. "Sure, he’s a sweetheart." He motioned toward the inside of the house with a nod. "C’mon, or we’ll end up with nothing but crust. His appetite’s as big as his mouth."

So you followed him inside like a stupid little duckling.

In the living room, a massive flat tree-stump-and-glass coffee table was already “set”—if you could even call it that. A big, colorful pizza sat on a wooden board in the center, surrounded by a chaotic mess of four plates, a few glasses, cigarette packs, a lighter, car keys, a can of deodorant, an almost empty roll of paper towels, as well as a bag of weed and a used grinder.

In your mind, you titled this condition Kelce Statter core.

A forest-green semicircle couch wrapped around half the table, facing a gigantic flat-screen TV. Family Guy was playing on the screen, the volume low but audible.

Kelce was perched at one end of the couch, hunched forward as he shoved a slice of pepperoni pizza into his mouth. Topper sat somewhere in the middle, his eyes lighting up as soon as he saw the two of you—or more specifically, Rafe.

With a casual “Yo, bro,” Topper got up and dapped Rafe up. He shot you a neutral smile, his voice carrying a friendly vibe. “We’re all apologizing in advance for Kelce’s shitty jokes.”

Now that was what you’d call nice.

From the background came a muffled, “Hey!”

A genuine smile tugged at your lips but before you could respond, Rafe made a dismissive motion with his hand. “Okay, okay, let’s just eat. The idiot’s already inhaled half the pizza.”

Topper sat back down next to Kelce while you settled on Rafe’s right—at a comfortably safe distance—at the opposite end of the couch. Still, your heart and mind refused to slow down.

But as your stomach filled, a bit of the tension in your body started to ease. Surprisingly, the pizza tasted amazing—like, really really good.

Was Kelce secretly some kind of passionate hobby chef? Probably. Would make sense, considering he was on his healthy gym grind like Rafe had told you.

As the minutes passed, the guys were deep in their own conversation—which you were thankful for because eating, talking, and not embarrassing yourself was an art you had yet to master.

Kelce was raving about some new protein/creatine/whatever powder he swore by, Topper was hyping up an upcoming surf competition he was planning to enter, and Rafe had some big news about a deal his dad had recently landed.

The only thing remotely interesting to you as a surfer was the tournament Topper had mentioned. The rest you tuned out, peacefully eating your pizza, taking an occasional sip of your Coke, and half-watching some weird Brian-and-Stewie subplot on TV.

This actually almost felt like hanging out with friends.

At some point, Topper mentioned your name, and you snapped out of your little bubble, turning away from the screen in surprise.

Shit, what did he say?

You swallowed the bite of pizza in your mouth and gave a sheepish smile. “Sorry, what?”

Kelce jumped in before Topper could repeat himself, seemingly taking your disinterest in the conversation as a win. “Oh shit, you’re into Family Guy?”

Your thumb nervously traced a spot on the edge of your plate. “Yeah, I mean, it's a good show to watch on the side.”

“And South Park, Rick and Morty?”

You felt all three of them staring at you. “They’re good, I guess. I mean, South Park isn’t really my thing but—”

Kelce gasped like you’d just insulted his entire family. “Not your thing?! That’s—”

“Jesus, bro, let her at least finish,” Topper interrupted with a roll of his eyes because well Kelce had just interrupted him.

Rafe nodded in agreement, waving his hand toward the kitchen. “Seriously, go grab more paper towels or some shit.”

Kelce shook his head, clearly unimpressed, but stood up anyway, plate in hand. “Wow, you guys are actual mean girls.”

You smiled because the other two did, but somehow, you still felt a little bad for Kelce. Sure, he was annoying, loud, and way too blunt, but getting shut down by your friends every two minutes had to sting, right?

Wow. Am I seriously feeling sorry for Kelce Statter?

Topper shook his head as Kelce disappeared into the kitchen. “Sometimes I wonder how he manages to pull any girl at all.”

Rafe shrugged, wiping his hands on the last paper towel. “Maybe they’re just hoping his dick’s as big as his mouth.”

That got a laugh out of Topper—one that, in your opinion, was a little too enthusiastic. “Yeah, probably.”

Okayyy. If you were Rafe Cameron Stan No. 1, then Topper was definitely No. 2.

Rafe seemed to notice your lack of reaction, turning to you with a crooked smile, like he couldn’t quite comprehend why you didn’t find this hilarious. “What? Would you go for a guy like that?”

WHAT KIND OF QUESTION WAS THAT? Better yet, how were you supposed to answer?!

On one hand, you’d never in a million years go for Kelce Statter. On the other, it felt wrong to sit in his house and join in on roasting him.

Your cheeks flushed pink as you gave an awkward smile. “No, I mean… I barely know him.”

God, what a stupid answer.

“That wasn’t a real no,” Topper remarked with a smirk, and you wished the ground would just swallow you whole.

Rafe’s brows twitched just slightly but before he could throw another dumb question your way, you tried to salvage it. “I mean, I just… I wouldn’t want to judge someone based on their looks or, uh, any shallow first impressions.”

Great. Should’ve just kept your mouth shut.

Rafe and Topper stared at you like you’d just announced that you believed in Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny.

OH GOD, they probably thought you liked Kelce now. Worse, RAFE probably did.

AHHH, HELP.

“Okay, you better not tell him that,” Topper said, amused. “His giant ego will rub it in your face forever. Or worse, he’ll actually think he has a shot with you.”

...

You weren’t sure what was worse—how aware you were of your burning cheeks, Rafe’s unreadable look that could mean anything from irritation to amusement to indifference, or the fact that Topper had basically just said you were too good for Kelce. Which was probably supposed to be a compliment, but the way he’d said it with that weird teasing undertone … yeah, no thanks.

Rafe leaned forward with a defiant-yet-amused snort, cutting off your view of Topper, and gathered the last three plates. “Shit, that’s enough talk about Kelce,” he said, shoving the stack of plates into Topper’s hands.

For a moment, Topper just stared at him, then he stood up, casting a brief glance at you before looking back at Rafe. “Sure, yeah, guess we’ll head out to the porch then. Have fun with your… art project work session or whatever.”

And with that, he disappeared in the same direction as Kelce.

Now it was just you and Rafe again. But for some reason, alongside your nervousness, there was this inexplicable tension lingering in the air from the conversation earlier.

This whole thing was SO FUCKING WEIRD anyway.

Yesterday morning, Kelce, Topper, and Rafe had been… well, strangers to you. And now? Now you were sitting in Kelce Statter’s living room, having had lunch with the three of them, and now you were spending your FREE TIME—like, not during class, not during lunch, but your actual free time—working on a school project with Rafe.

This whole cozy setup, this couch, the TV running in the background, the whole environment—it all felt so… intimate. Even though it absolutely wasn’t.

And then all those comments, those questions… This was so far out of your comfort zone, and you had no idea how to deal with such a sudden shift.

And, honestly? You were still stuck on why Rafe had even invited you here in the first place. Yeah, sure, to work on a school project. But at his friend’s house? When you could’ve just done it during lunch. It didn’t make any sense.

And the dangerous part? Somewhere deep down, there was this tiny part of you that thought maybe, just maybe, Rafe wasn’t just after a good grade.

The fact that Rafe didn’t shift over, even though the couch was now completely clear (sure, there was still a decent gap between you two, but still...), didn’t go unnoticed. Quite the opposite, he spread out his legs slightly more, adjusting his position.

You had to seriously focus to avoid accidentally looking at... certain areas.

GIRL PLS.

“Don't tell me you're still nervous after having experienced these idiots firsthand” he said, his tone playful but noticeably more detached than usual.

Could I get one moment—just ONE—in which my face isn’t on fire? PLEASE.

You forced a clumsy smile. “I wasn’t nervous... just curious.”

Oh, yeah. He’s totally going to believe that.

Rafe raised an unimpressed brow, his smirk making it clear he didn’t buy it. “Yeah, anxious curious.” He sank deeper into the couch, putting one leg on the edge of the table, and looked up at you with his pretty blue eyes. “So, you have a thing for Kelce, huh? Is that why you acted so weird when I asked you to come along?” His voice was teasing, almost challenging, but there was something distant in it too, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

WHAT THE ACTUAL HELL?? Like, LITERALLY WHAT?? What kind of question was that?

You honestly couldn’t tell if he was joking or being serious. His expression gave absolutely nothing away. Also didn’t he just say to Topper to put the Kelce topic aside?

You shook your head, brows furrowing in irritation (and let’s be real, you probably looked like a sulky tomato while doing so). “What? No! I mean… what? Where is that even coming from?”

Rafe shrugged, his tone maddeningly casual. “He wouldn’t say no, just saying. Kelce would take any gi—”

“But I would!” you shot back, sharper than you intended. “Saying ‘no’, I mean.” You froze for a second, your brows furrowing further as if you’d just misheard yourself. “Wait, what were you gonna say?”

There it was again. That shift in his mood. Barely noticeable but it was there—the way his brows raised just slightly, his eyes focusing on you like he was daring you in some strange way.

“What?” he asked, clearly testing to see if you’d let it slide or push further.

And, of fucking course, you’d push further. Crush or not, no way would you let that audacity slide.

You tilted your head, and honestly, maybe it was the stress of the day catching up to you, but the way he looked so smug, so goddamn full of himself, pissed you off. "You were trying to say that Kelce would go for any girl anyway." You furrowed your brows. "What… how am I supposed to interpret that?"

You couldn’t help but remember the comment he’d made earlier at school—Kelce always brings some random chick to our hangouts.

So, was that how he saw you? Some random, disposable girl for his friend? Was that the point of this? To hook you up with Kelce?

You had no idea why but before this, thinking of hookups in general had been mildly amusing to you. But now that it was somehow in the air, it just pissed you off.

Something flickered in Rafe’s eyes, but he shook his head, his mouth tugging down in mock innocence. “Don’t know.” And then, almost like he couldn’t help himself, he added, “You didn’t say ‘no’ earlier. You know, all that talk about 'not judging people by surface-level impressions' or whatever.”

You shook your head in disbelief. “What the fuck, I never—... I'm not interested in--” You stopped yourself mid-sentence when you noticed how observant he was eyeing you.

Either he was messing with you—trying to get a reaction out of you by asking these upfront questions—or he was actually being serious.

“This feels like gaslighting", you said dryly, though you couldn’t stop the somehow amused smile from creeping onto your face.

A crooked grin spread across Rafe’s features and the crease between his brows disappeared. “I'm just repeating what you’ve said.”

Seriously, what did he want you to say? “Yes, I like Kelce”??? Did he actually believe your words earlier had hinted at some interest in Kelce? Just the thought of it made your skin crawl.

Your expression shifted back to a frown. Hesitantly you asked, “Is this like... a bro-playing-matchmaker-for-bro thing?”

Did he want you to start something with Kelce? You couldn’t make sense of all the questions—this whole thing with Topper earlier, too. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think Kelce secretly had a thing for you and they were both playing his wingmen in a very strange way.

OH. MY. GOD.

That would explain why Rafe had invited you here in the first place. But then again, why were you—just the two of you—about to work on the project?

Even your confusion was confused at this point.

“Shit, no,” Rafe shot back with an amused smirk, crossing his arms. “Like I’d play wingman for Kelce.” He shrugged, his grin lingering. “But you do seem like someone who needs help in this area.”

…

WHAT.

Did he think you were some kind of helpless maiden who needed assistance at courting the other sex? Well, it wasn’t that far from the truth, be for real, but that wasn’t the point. Why would he even say something like this? Was he suggesting to be your wingman or some shit?

God, this was such a painfully awkward situation and he seemed to have fun cornering you like this.

Screw it. You were done with whatever this was.

You nodded slowly, your cheeks still flushed deep pink. “I don’t, thanks. And I feel like we shouldn’t waste any more time and get back to the project.”

Something strange flashed across his face—a mix of disappointment and irritation as if he had enjoyed this back and forth—but he just shrugged. “Back at being a nerd.”

Wow. Okay. Seriously, what the actual fuck was going on inside Rafe Cameron’s head?

Trying to suppress a frown, you leaned toward the side of the couch and pulled your iPad from your bag, tucking your legs up into a comfortable position as you opened yesterday’s notes.

The air felt heavy with a strange tension. Not like yesterday, when you’d had your first real conversation with him. Not like earlier either, when he was pissed off at you mentioning his dad in a conversation. No, this was something else entirely—some kind of irritated restlessness on both sides.

Your heart pounded uneasily in your chest, and you hated that you couldn’t just address whatever this was. If it even was anything.

So, you did what you always did when things started feeling like too much—you disconnected from the situation entirely and focused on the task at hand. Skimming over your notes, you cleared your throat and read out your last update. “Okay, so…” -----------------------------------------------

You washed your hands, staring at your reflection in the bathroom mirror.

What am I even doing here?

This was so stupid. You should’ve insisted on rescheduling this whole thing—it would’ve been so much easier.

Grabbing the towel from the rack, you dried your hands and took a deep breath. Screw whatever all of this was—why he’d invited you here, why he’d asked all those weird-ass questions. You just needed to focus on the project.

Art was the only subject you were actually kind of good at and there was no way you were going to mess it up just because your brain was spiraling over this surreal, out-of-nowhere situation.

But as you walked back down the hallway toward the living room, you were hit with another curveball.

Is this guy SERIOUS RIGHT NOW?!

There he was, sitting on the couch, your iPad resting on his lap, your Apple Pencil in his hand as his eyes stared at the screen.

Never mind that he looked CUTE AS HELL doing it—he couldn’t just scroll through your sketches like that. THAT WAS AN UNSPOKEN RULE. What if he found your studies of—NOPE.

“What are you doing?”

Rafe looked up, completely unbothered. Before he could even answer, you were already sitting down next to him, hand reaching for your iPad.

And then you saw it.

He wasn’t flipping through your gallery—he was just writing something in the Notes app.

Your face instantly flushed hot. “Oh,” you mumbled, pulling your hand back quickly—only to accidentally brush against the fabric of his jeans.

AKA HIS THIGH.

It was over. Your life was over. Done. Finished. The end. You were officially dead in every language known to man.

The heat in your face burned hotter as your pulse skyrocketed, embarrassment filling every cell in your body.

And his face? Big blue eyes staring at you half-surprised while his lips slowly turned into a crooked smile.

UGHHHH, OH MY GOD.

A sheepish-awkward smile crept across your lips. “Oh, I—oh my God, I’m so sorry, I… I thought you were scrolling through my gallery.”

Brilliant. Truly a top-tier diversion. AS ALWAYS.

Please, please, please, for the love of everything holy, don’t mention the fact that I just touched your leg. PLEASE.

Rafe raised an eyebrow, more amused than irritated. “Why, what would I find? Nudes?”

I CAN’T DO THIS ANYMORE.

“What? No! I don’t—gallery, I meant my art gallery!” you shot back quickly, your voice a pitch higher than usual as the heat rushed back into your face.

And then, as your gaze flicked to the striking details of his annoyingly pretty eyes, it hit you just how close you were to him.

Too fucking close.

Your overly dramatic attempt to snatch the iPad from him had somehow left your whole body turned toward his, with barely four inches separating you.

Every instinct screamed at you to throw yourself onto the other end of the couch, grab your bag, and leave this house as fast as humanly possible. Move forward another state and start a new life.

But you couldn’t move. It was like you were frozen, completely anchored in place. Because choosing to put space between you now? That would just highlight how ridiculously awkward this whole situation had become.

You felt like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car, unable to move.

And Rafe’s eyes? They were the headlights. He stared at you, his expression teetering somewhere between playful curiosity and deliberation, like he was trying to decide whether to swerve or just run you over.

“Jesus Christ, calm down,” he finally said, a cocky laugh slipping past his lips as he clicked the Apple Pencil back into the iPad case. “I didn’t look at your top-secret drawing gallery. Happy?”

And even if he had looked, would he even admit it? Probably not.

Still, a tiny part of you relaxed. Perfect—now only 99% of you were stuck in full fight-or-flight mode.

“Thanks,” you managed to mumble, taking the iPad from him with painstaking care to avoid even accidentally brushing against him again. That would definitely be the end of you.

Finally seizing the opportunity, you scooted a little further away—not as far as before but just enough to calm your heart rate without making it seem like you were actively trying to escape.

The last thing you wanted was to look like a total creep.

Even though the situation had been painfully awkward, somehow, it had managed to break that weird, unspoken tension that had been hanging between you two entirely.

You had just looked up, ready to comment on the one (1) completely useless bullet point he’d added when he beat you to it. "We should go to my place tomorrow evening. Maybe you’ll relax a little for once”, he said with a teasing yet somehow serious undertone.

...

...

WAIT. WHAT? THIS WAS COMING OUT OF NOWHERE LIKE WHAT?!

You must’ve misheard him. No way. This was too crazy, too fucking surreal to be real. Surely he was messing with you. Yeah, that had to be it.

Your brows furrowed slightly. "Your place?" Good. That was good. This way, you could at least make sure he wasn’t being serious.

Rafe scoffed, amused. "Yeah, unless you’d rather go back to working at school like a real nerd."

HE WAS SERIOUS.

Okay, hold on. But WHY AT EVENING? Evenings were basically the second most intimate time of day, right after actual nighttime. And his whole family would be home—no, absolutely not. That was insane. Way too much, too soon.

There was no way you’d 'relax' there.

You let out a nervous laugh, avoiding his gaze. "I don’t know… your parents—" You hesitated, remembering Rose wasn’t actually his mom. "I mean, your family probably wants their space."

Oh god. You could already feel the shift in his mood—subtle, but definitely there.

But Rafe just shook his head, completely unfazed. "My dad and Rose are at some charity event. Wheezie’s on a school trip this week, and Sarah can do whatever she wants, I don't care."

OH.

That—that changed everything. Shit, no, that changed THE ENTIRE FUCKING SITUATION YOU WERE IN.

An empty house, almost nighttime, and he wanted you to come over just after two days of getting to know each other? Holy shit, every alarm bell in your head was ringing.

Sure, you were inexperienced when it came to dating (NOT that this situation was anything close to being labeled as dating). And yes, you had no clue how to flirt. Plus, the entire concept of the male species lowkey terrified you and you were terrible at picking up hints.

But even you knew what this meant.

You’d heard enough of Cara’s stories, read enough shitty fanfiction, watched enough trashy movies and TV shows, and—unintentionally—overheard enough (deeply uncomfortable) conversations between drunk, horny teenagers at parties to recognize exactly what was happening here:

Rafe Cameron was setting the ground for a hookup.

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

kms masterlist | <- part four | part six (soon) ->

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

Taglist (open):

@ursogorgeous13 @my-name-is-baby @moneybaby07 @jjasmiineee @sttaejoon-blog @vogueprincess @princesspeaxhh @wtfisastiles @wefelldowntherabbithole13 @rafes4 @kathryn-maraudersversion @wuluhwuhmaster @torturedtypewritersdept @sfotiegiuls @vvmaybank @ltristessedureratoujours @mia-iltc

[00valentina-writes00]

ellie coming hands free after getting new nipple piercings?? i creamed

So did I.

♡♥︎ TOO SENSITIVE ♥︎♡

Warnings: nipple play, overstimulation, Ellie being sensitive as hell, a little bit of dumbification, Ellie coming hands-free, and overall Ellie being a desperate mess.

Ellie had severely underestimated how sensitive her nipples would be.

The moment she got them pierced, the realization hit her hard—that first brush of her shirt against them making her whole body shudder, her breath catching in her throat.

And she’d tried, really tried, to pretend like it wasn’t a big deal. She gritted her teeth through the discomfort, through the way-too-intense tingling every time she moved, through the ache that settled deep in her chest whenever something brushed against them just right.

But then you—you, her girlfriend, her problem, her weakness—had gotten a good look at them.

And now?

Now Ellie was fucked.

“Jesus Christ,” she gasped, her head slamming back against the pillow, her hands gripping the sheets so tight her knuckles went white.

You were straddling her, perched comfortably on her waist, your warm hands firm on her chest, gently rolling her new piercings between your fingers—and Ellie felt like she was going to lose her fucking mind.

“M-Mamas,” she choked out, voice high, breathless, wrecked.

You smirked. “What’s wrong, baby? Too much?”

Ellie whimpered, her whole body tensing beneath you.

It was too much. It was way too much.

The sharp sting of the piercings, the electric pull of your fingers tugging just right, the unbearable heat rushing straight between her thighs—she couldn’t take it.

But she didn’t want you to stop.

God, she didn’t want you to stop.

Her green eyes were glassy, half-lidded, her jaw slack, her flushed chest rising and falling in quick, shallow breaths as you played with her new piercings like they were your favorite toy.

“Y-You’re so mean,” she gasped, her hips jerking up involuntarily, a fresh wave of pleasure-pain rolling through her.

You giggled, leaning down, brushing your lips against her ear.

“You like it,” you whispered, pinching just slightly, making Ellie whine.

She did.

She fucking loved it.

Loved the sharpness, the burn, the warmth of your fingers rolling over her aching nipples, pulling, teasing, sending little sparks of pleasure straight to her clit—

Her whole body shuddered, a wrecked moan spilling from her lips.

“Shit, shit, mamas, I—”

You kissed down her neck, suckling gently, your voice smooth as honey. “Look at you,” you murmured. “You’re shaking, baby.”

Ellie sobbed, her thighs tensing, her hips grinding up into nothing as you toyed with her, tugging at the tiny silver bars, rolling them between your fingers like you owned her.

She felt so full, so hot, so unbelievably sensitive—

She was gonna cum.

Fuck, she was gonna cum, and you weren’t even touching her where she needed it.

Her breath came in short, desperate little gasps, her back arching, her fingers twitching in the sheets, trying so hard not to grab you, not to beg—

“Mamas, I—oh my fucking God, I—”

Her eyes fluttered shut, her body locking up, her jaw dropping as a choked, broken sob tore from her throat—

She came.

Hard.

Hands-free.

Her whole body convulsed, a helpless, desperate cry ripping from her chest as the pleasure slammed through her, raw and electric, rolling in heavy, uncontrollable waves.

Her thighs snapped shut, her stomach tensing, her hips jerking up uncontrollably as the orgasm ripped through her like a fucking shockwave, leaving her trembling, gasping, completely spent.

It was too much.

It was way too much.

She could still feel it, shuddering through her limbs, keeping her so unbearably sensitive that even the softest brush of your fingers on her chest had her whimpering, her head rolling weakly against the pillow.

You grinned, pressing a kiss to her damp forehead, so fucking proud of yourself.

“You good, baby?”

Ellie let out a wrecked, breathless laugh, her chest still rising and falling rapidly, her hands finally moving to rest on your thighs.

“Holy fuck,” she whispered.

You smirked, rubbing gentle circles against her flushed skin, letting her come back down.

“Think you can handle another?”

Ellie whimpered, already twitching beneath you.

“…Yeah.”

[thatfatbitxch]

Snape’s Not so Secret Admirer

Pairing: Severus Snape x reader

Summary: Y/n is a new professor at hogwarts. She’s always smiling at Snape and always stumbling on her words when they talk, often caught day dreaming. Snape just thinks she’s dumb doesn’t think much . One morning at breakfast snape was curious about her and went into her mind to learn a little bit about

Warnings: subtle sexual innuendos 

∴.·:*¨¨*:·. ☙.·:*¨ ¨*:·.♡ .·:*¨ ¨*:·. ❧.·:*¨ ¨*:·.∴

Severus Snape prided himself on being an observant man. It was a necessary skill for him. So, when the new professor arrived—Professor Y/N—he was quick to assess her.

She was young, bright-eyed, and entirely too cheerful for his taste. She smiled too much, stumbled over her words whenever they spoke, and seemed to have the attention span of a particularly dim-witted Hufflepuff. He had already dismissed her as just another incompetent hire, someone who would be gone within the year, unable to handle the pressure of teaching at Hogwarts.

Y/N had arrived at the start of the term to teach Charms, and Snape had dismissed her almost immediately. Too young, too bright-eyed, too smiley. She was not suited for Hogwarts, and he had no doubt she would crumble under the weight of her responsibilities within the year.

Yet, much to his irritation, she remained.

And worse, she seemed utterly fixated on him. He couldn’t figure out why.

Every time their paths crossed, she would fumble her words, looking at him with wide, dazed eyes as though caught in some sort of trance. Her smiles were ever-present, unshaken by his cold demeanor, and she had a habit of staring at him for entirely too long during meals.

At first, he assumed she was simply intimidated by him—a common enough reaction from new staff. But that didn’t explain the dreamy looks, the flustered stammering, or the way she seemed utterly absorbed in her thoughts whenever he caught her unguarded.

And so, on a particularly mundane morning in the Great Hall, he made an uncharacteristically reckless decision.

It started as an absentminded observation—his gaze flickering toward her as she sat a few seats down, absently stirring her cereal. Her lips were slightly parted, her brow faintly furrowed as though lost in thought.

What on earth is going through that empty little head of hers?

Without truly meaning to, Snape let down his mental barriers and reached out with Legilimency, brushing the surface of her mind with practiced ease. A quick glimpse. A harmless curiosity.

He regretted it instantly.

The images flooded in at once, vivid and startling in their intensity. Him.

Not as he was now, stiff and scowling at the breakfast table, but him in the dim candlelight of her quarters, his fingers tangled in her hair, his lips ghosting over her throat.

Her mind was an unchecked storm of want, filled with fragmented, breathless thoughts—

His hands would be rough, but careful—

I wonder what he’d sound like if I—

What would his lips feel like pressed against my neck, claiming me as his—

Gods, last night—

Snape’s breath hitched.

The scene shifted, and suddenly, it wasn’t just idle fantasy—it was memory.

A replay of the night before.

Y/N was in her bed, twisted in her sheets, her skin flushed with heat. She was gasping softly, her body arching as she whispered his name—his name—into the quiet of her room.

Snape choked.

The taste of tea turned acrid as it went down the wrong pipe, and he coughed violently, drawing the attention of the entire staff table.

Minerva glanced at him in mild concern, while Dumbledore’s ever-twinkling gaze lingered just a moment too long.

Y/N turned toward him as well, blinking in surprise. “Professor Snape? Are you alright?”

Her voice was too sweet, too innocent, too unknowing of the absolute carnage she had just unleashed upon his mind.

Snape wrenched himself back into the present, setting his cup down with a shaking hand. He forced himself to nod, his throat still burning. “Fine,” he managed hoarsely.

She smiled at him—of course she did—her cheeks tinged pink.

The very sight of her now felt different, dangerous, attractive almost. She had no idea what he had seen, no idea that her most intimate thoughts had just seared themselves into his memory.

Severus Snape had survived war, Dark Lords, and years of relentless suffering.

But this?

This was an entirely new kind of torture.

Y/n had a crush on Snape and he didn’t know how to feel.

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

Y/N’s thoughts still lingered there, unwanted and unshakable. Every time he blinked, he saw flashes of the memory he had glimpsed—her body, flushed and writhing in her bed, his name falling from her lips like a sinful prayer.

It was utterly unacceptable.

She was a colleague.

She was a foolish, starry-eyed girl.

And most importantly, he shouldn’t be so turned on by her.

He would put this entire debacle behind him. He would bury it deep in the recesses of his mind, where it would never see the light of day.

And if she continued to smile at him? If she kept stumbling over her words and looking at him with those wide, adoring eyes?

Well… that was not his problem.

With renewed determination, he pushed open the doors to his classroom, his robes billowing behind him as he strode to the front of the room.

The students immediately quieted.

“Page two hundred and thirteen,” he said curtly, barely glancing at them as he flicked his wand toward the blackboard. “I expect silence.”

For once, his students obeyed without question. The only sound was the rustle of parchment as they flipped to the assigned page.

Good.

This was what he needed—structure, routine, something to ground him.

And then—

“Professor Snape?”

The voice sent a jolt through him, and he knew before even looking up.

Y/N stood in the doorway, her hands clasped in front of her, wearing that same flustered, hesitant smile.

Merlin’s bloody beard.

His grip on his quill tightened. Thinking about we he saw in her little mind. “Professor Y/N,” he said smoothly, his voice carefully controlled. “To what do I owe the interruption?”

If she noticed the sharp edge to his tone, she ignored it.

“Oh! I—um—I just needed to borrow something from the potions stores,” she said, shifting on her feet. “If that’s alright?”

He exhaled slowly through his nose. “Fine,” he bit out. “Make it quick.”

“Of course! Thank you, Professor.”

She practically skipped toward the storeroom, her robes swishing around her ankles as she disappeared behind the shelves.

Snape clenched his jaw, forcing himself to return his focus to his students, though his ears remained attuned to every faint rustle and movement from the storeroom.

It was infuriating.

She was infuriating.

And worst of all—he could still hear her voice from her memories.

Breathless. Desperate.

“Severus…”

His quill snapped in his hand.

Several students jumped at the sudden sound, looking up in alarm.

Snape inhaled sharply, composing himself. He set the broken quill aside, steepling his fingers as he leveled the class with a withering glare.

“Well?” he drawled. “Did I suddenly instruct you all to stare at me like imbeciles instead of completing the assigned reading?”

They hastily returned to their textbooks, not daring to utter a word.

The storeroom door creaked open again, and Y/N reappeared, clutching a small vial of powdered moonstone.

“Got it!” she chirped, giving him a bright smile. “Thanks again, Professor Snape.”

His responding glare was colder than the dungeons themselves.

She hesitated for a fraction of a second—just long enough for a flicker of uncertainty to cross her features—but then she dipped her head and hurried out the door.

As soon as she was gone, Snape exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose.

He needed to get her out of his head.

Immediately.

Because if he didn’t…

He was going to lose his mind.

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

Severus had very little patience for frivolous conversation.

The Hogwarts staff, unfortunately, did not share his sentiment.

It was late afternoon, and he had just left his classroom, intent on heading to his office for some much-needed solitude. The day had been exhausting—made worse, of course, by her.

Y/N had spent the entire morning unknowingly testing his already frayed nerves. The way she smiled at him. The way she tripped over her words when they spoke. The way she lingered just a second too long when she passed by him in the corridors.

It was intolerable.

He needed distance.

Yet, as he strode past the partially open door of the staff lounge, a familiar voice caught his attention.

Y/N.

He should have ignored it. He should have kept walking, pretended he heard nothing, and continued on with his day.

But then—

“Oh, come on, Y/N,” said a voice he recognized as Professor Sinistra’s. “You have to play. It’s just a silly game.”

“I don’t know…” Y/N sounded hesitant but amused.

“Oh, don’t act innocent. We all know you have opinions,” said Professor Hooch.

Snape frowned, curiosity getting the better of him. He took a silent step closer, positioning himself just outside the doorway.

“What are the options again?” Y/N asked.

“Fuck, Marry, Kill,” Sinistra repeated, barely containing her laughter. “You have to choose one person for each.

Snape’s stomach twisted.

They were playing that game?

He had heard students whispering about it before—some ridiculous, childish activity meant for gossip and nonsense. But for the staff to be engaging in it? It was absurd.

Even so… he didn’t move.

“Alright, alright,” Y/N sighed. “Who are my choices?”

“Well, we thought we’d make it interesting for you,” Hooch said slyly. “So—Lockhart, Snape, and Dumbledore.”

Snape stiffened.

Oh, absolutely not.

There was a moment of silence, and then Y/N groaned dramatically. “Oh, you would pick those three.”

The other professors laughed. “Come on, Y/N. You have to answer,” Sinistra teased.

Snape waited, his jaw clenched.

“Well,” Y/N said slowly, “I think we can all agree that killing Lockhart is the only acceptable option.”

There were murmurs of agreement.

At least she had some standards, Snape thought dryly.

“And?” Sinistra pressed.

Y/N hesitated again, and for a moment, Snape thought—hoped—that she might refuse to answer altogether.

But then—

“…I guess I’d marry Dumbledore?”

Snape’s eyes narrowed.

“I mean, he’s wise, powerful, and honestly, I think he’d be really fun to be around. He’s got a great sense of humor,” Y/N reasoned. “I could see myself living a peaceful, happy life married to him.

There was a chorus of laughter. “So that means…”

Y/N let out a dramatic sigh. “…I guess I’d fuck Snape.”

Snape felt his entire body go rigid.

The room erupted into laughter and scandalized gasps.

“Oh my God,” Sinistra cackled. “You guess you’d fuck him?”

Y/N was laughing too now. “What?! I mean, come on. Look at the other options! Lockhart? Absolutely not. And Dumbledore? He’s sweet, but—no, I’m not his type.”

“And Snape is your first choice for a fuck?” Hooch teased.

Snape could practically hear Y/N’s blush.

“I mean,” she said hesitantly, “he’s got to be good at something, right?”

The other women howled with laughter.

Snape felt heat rise to his face, an unfamiliar mix of mortification and something far more dangerous curling in his stomach.

“Well, well, well,” Sinistra teased. “Someone has a thing for our dear Potions Master.”

“Shut up!” Y/N groaned, but she was still laughing. “I was just playing the game!”

“Oh, sure you were.”

Snape had heard enough.

He turned on his heel, stalking away from the staff lounge before he could hear anything else.

It should have been infuriating. It was infuriating.

But worst of all—

As he stormed down the hallway, Y/N’s words echoed in his head.

“I guess I’d fuck Snape.”

A dangerous thought, indeed.

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

Snape had spent his entire life mastering the art of self-control.

It had kept him alive during the war, allowed him to endure years of servitude under both Dumbledore and the Dark Lord, and, most importantly, it had ensured that no one—not a single person—ever saw what lay beneath the surface.

But this?

This was testing him in ways he had not prepared for.

For days, Y/N’s voice haunted him.

“I’d fuck Snape.”

It echoed through his mind at the most inopportune moments—during meals, in the middle of lectures, when he was grading essays and found himself scrawling across the parchment with unnecessary force.

It was intolerable.

And she wasn’t helping.

Y/N still smiled at him in the halls, still stumbled over her words when they spoke, still lingered just a moment too long when they passed one another.

She had no idea what she had done.

And he—he was coming undone.

That evening, Snape retreated to his classroom, hoping for some semblance of solitude. The dim glow of candlelight flickered over the rows of empty desks, and he inhaled deeply, reveling in the quiet.

He needed this.

Needed to regain control.

Then—

The door creaked open.

He knew who it was before she even spoke.

“Professor Snape?”

His grip on his quill tightened. He didn’t look up. “What is it?”

Y/N hesitated at the threshold, feeling like one of his students. “I—um, I left my book here earlier. For my third-years.”

“Then retrieve it quickly and go.”

Silence.

She didn’t move.

Instead, she shifted on her feet, studying him. “You know,” she said slowly, “you’ve been acting really weird lately.”

Snape continued grading, pretending he wasn’t aware of her every movement. “Your powers of observation astound me.”

She ignored his sarcasm.

“I mean it,” she pressed. “You won’t even look at me.”

He finally glanced up, leveling her with an icy glare. “And yet, here you stand, interrupting my work with baseless observations.”

That should have been the end of it.

But Y/N had never known when to quit.

She exhaled, stepping closer. “I know you’re mad at me.”

Silence.

“Did I do something?”

More silence.

“Severus.”

His jaw clenched at the sound of his name.

Y/N took another step forward, the candlelight casting a warm glow over her face. “Okay, if you don’t tell me what’s wrong, I’m just going to keep guessing.”

Still, he said nothing.

She sighed. “Fine. Is it because I borrowed ingredients from the storeroom without asking? Because I did ask, and you said yes—granted, you looked like you wanted to strangle me, but still.”

Nothing.

“…Did I say something offensive in our last conversation?”

Silence.

Her eyes narrowed.

“Is it because of the ‘fuck, marry, kill’ thing?”

Snape froze.

Y/N gasped. “It is!”

Y/N let out a disbelieving laugh. “Oh my God, that’s what this is about?”

“It is not about that,” he snapped.

“Oh, it definitely is.” She stepped even closer, tilting her head at him with a slow, teasing smile. “Let me guess—you didn’t like my answer?”

Snape’s hands curled into fists beneath his desk. “I suggest you drop it.”

“Why?” she pressed, her eyes glinting with amusement. “Are you upset that I said I’d marry Dumbledore instead of you?”

His glare could have turned her to stone.

She bit her lip, barely containing her laughter. “Or…” she continued, feigning deep thought, “…are you upset because I said I’d fuck you?”

Snap.

In an instant, Snape was on his feet.

Before she could register what was happening, he had crossed the space between them, backing her against the edge of his desk.

Her breath caught, eyes wide as he loomed over her.

His voice was low, lethal.

“I know exactly the kind of fantasies you have about me.”

Y/N’s breath hitched.

Snape leaned in slightly, the scent of parchment and spice surrounding her. “You think I don’t know?” he murmured, his tone silk and steel. “You think I haven’t seen?”

She swallowed. “S-Seen what?”

His lips curled into a dark smirk.

“Your mind,” he said softly. “It is utterly shameless, Y/N.”

The way he said her name—low, deliberate, dripping with something dangerous—sent a shiver down her spine.

She exhaled shakily. “I—”

But before she could finish, his mouth crashed against hers. He couldn’t help himself.

The kiss was fierce—hot, demanding, filled with frustration and something deeper, something raw.

Y/N gasped against his lips, but she melted into him instantly, her hands gripping the front of his robes, pulling him closer.

Snape groaned against her mouth, his hands finding her waist, gripping tightly as if he was losing himself. He should be liking this so much.

For weeks, she had smiled at him. Teased him. Dreamed of him.

And now, here he was—kissing her like he had been on the edge of breaking for far too long.

When they finally pulled apart, both of them were breathing hard, the space between them charged with unspoken words.

Snape’s dark eyes searched hers, his expression unreadable.

Y/N blinked up at him, lips still parted, utterly dazed.

“…Well,” she breathed. “That escalated quickly.”

Snape groaned, pressing his forehead against hers. “Merlin, shut up.”

Y/N just grinned—and pulled him back in for another kiss

[rafes-slut]

You marked his back with your nails pretty bad

Pairing: Cocky!Rafe Cameron x reader

Warnings: explicit content, rough/intense smut, scratching, possessiveness, toxic dynamics, mentions of arguments, morning-after intimacy.

Summary: after having argument you make it up only way you know. Rough sex. So when you wake up next morning and find his back all red and scratched from how hard you went. Only for him to love it.

-----

The first thing you register is warmth. Not just the soft, golden hue of the morning sun breaking through the blinds, but the heat radiating from the body beside you. Rafe. His skin, bare and warm, pressed against yours beneath the tangled sheets. Your limbs feel heavy, the lingering exhaustion from last night still weighing on you, but there’s something else too—a soreness between your thighs, a faint ache in your muscles, a reminder of how things unfolded after that argument.

You shift slightly, turning to face him, and that’s when you see it.

His back.

Your breath catches for a moment as your eyes trace over the angry red marks slashed across his tanned skin. Deep, raw, and unmistakable—the aftermath of your nails dragging down his back, your body clinging to his as he fucked you through your frustration, through every unspoken word and every unresolved fight. The scratches stand out starkly against his skin, fresh and undeniable proof of just how wild last night had been.

You bite your lip, feeling a mix of pride and guilt. You hadn’t even realized you were digging in that hard, but looking at the way the marks line his back, there’s no doubt you claimed him in some way.

Rafe stirs beside you, shifting slightly before letting out a low, sleepy groan. His voice is thick with sleep, muffled against the pillow as he speaks.

"Mmm… you awake?"

He’s still half-asleep, his face turned towards you but his eyes barely open. Without thinking, he leans in, pressing a lazy, drowsy kiss against your shoulder, his lips soft and warm against your skin.

You hesitate before speaking, your fingers lightly grazing over one of the red streaks down his back. "Rafe…"

He hums in response, not fully awake yet.

"You should see what I did to your back," you murmur, running your fingers along another set of scratches. "It looks bad."

That wakes him up.

Rafe shifts onto his side, cracking one eye open as a slow, lazy smirk spreads across his lips. "Yeah?" His voice is still rough with sleep, but there’s amusement in it now. "You worried about me, sweetheart?"

You roll your eyes, but the heat rising in your cheeks betrays you. "I didn’t realize I went that hard."

Rafe finally opens both eyes, his gaze dark and amused as he watches you. Then, without warning, he flips onto his stomach again, stretching his arms above his head, completely unbothered as he settles back against the mattress. "How bad is it?"

"Bad," you admit, tracing one of the deeper marks with your fingertip. "Like… I might’ve actually hurt you."

Rafe chuckles, and the sound is low and smug. "You didn’t hurt me." He turns his head slightly, giving you a lopsided grin. "I like it."

Your stomach tightens at his words.

"You like it?" you repeat, raising an eyebrow.

He nods lazily, completely unashamed. "Hell yeah. It means I fucked you good enough to make you lose control." He glances over his shoulder at you, his smirk widening. "That’s kinda hot, don’t you think?"

You huff, but there’s no real annoyance behind it. If anything, his words send a rush of heat straight to your core.

Rafe must notice because his smirk turns more devilish as he pushes himself up on one elbow, his free hand reaching over to tug you closer. You don’t resist as he pulls you against him, his lips brushing against your collarbone before he trails them up to your neck, his breath warm against your skin.

"Next time," he murmurs against your throat, "maybe you should leave them somewhere I can actually see them."

Your breath hitches, and you hate the way your body immediately responds to him, how the heat from last night still lingers between you. But that’s just how it always is with Rafe. The fights, the passion, the way you always come back together in the most intense, all-consuming way.

[witchingwithscissors]

Divorce Lawyer Rio/Brewery Owner Agatha + I’m 🍃 = this sapphicy AU thing. Ps I’m an elder millennial so I don’t know how to flip the gif so just imagine they’re seated across from each other in your terror dome.

Rio hadn’t meant to stay this late.

She had only stopped into Cinder & Grain because her usual bar was packed, and she wasn’t in the mood for small talk or lingering stares. She wanted a drink, a quiet corner, and maybe a moment to forget she’d spent the last eight hours in her office breaking apart marriages for a living.

She didn’t expect her.

The bartender. Agatha, according to the embroidered patch on her worn-in T-shirt, moved like she belonged to the space. Effortlessly pouring drinks, laughing at someone’s joke, and running a towel over the bar top with absentminded ease. She had the kind of presence that made people lean in, that made a room feel warmer just by being in it.

And, at some point, her eyes caught Rio’s.

She looked once. Quickly. Then twice. Lingering. And before Rio could pretend not to notice, Agatha was sliding into the booth across from her, elbows resting on the table like they’d done this a hundred times before.

“You’re not a regular,” Agatha said, tapping a finger against Rio’s whiskey glass.

Rio raised an eyebrow. “That obvious?”

Agatha smirked. “Whiskey neat? In a brewery?” She shook her head. “Yeah, that stands out.”

Rio exhaled through her nose, amused. “I don’t do beer.”

“Well, that’s a shame,” Agatha said, leaning back like she had all the time in the world. “I was just about to offer you my favorite one.”

Rio smirked. “Would it change your mind if I said I was allergic?”

Agatha tilted her head, considering. “Not unless you’re actually allergic.”

“I just don’t like it.”

Agatha sighed dramatically, shaking her head. “Tragic.” Then, after a beat, “Let me guess… you’re a lawyer.”

That made Rio pause. “That obvious?”

Agatha grinned. “You have that whole I could argue you out of your own drink order look about you.”

Rio let out a short laugh. “I’d be offended, but you’re not wrong.”

“Lucky guess.” Agatha drummed her fingers on the table, studying her for a second. “Wait! Fuck, hold on.” A flicker of recognition flashed in her expression. “You’re that hot witch lawyer, aren’t you? The one from that billboard a few years ago?”

Rio smirked. “Depends. What do you remember?”

Agatha snapped her fingers. “It had a fucking witch pun… ugh what was it? Something like—”

“Don’t Let Them Hex Half Your Assets.”

Agatha pointed at her, grinning. “That’s the one.”

“Wow,” Rio mused, swirling her drink. “A woman remembers my face… from my shitty divorce ad. That’s a first.”

“I mean, you made an impression.” Agatha smirked. “Some part of me wanted to call just to see if you were actually that dramatic in person.”

Rio lifted a brow. “And?”

Agatha’s gaze flickered lower, slow, deliberate. “Still deciding.”

The way she said it sent something warm through Rio’s chest. No, maybe lower.

This was flirting. Definitely flirting.

Rio should have finished her drink, thanked Agatha for the company, and gone home. She had an early morning conference call she had to be on camera for. But she didn’t go home yet.

Instead, she leaned in slightly, watching the way Agatha tracked her movement. “Alright,” Rio said. “Let’s test something, then.”

Agatha raised an eyebrow. “Test?”

Rio reached for the glass Agatha had brought with her, half-filled with some dark amber brew, the kind that looked deceptively rich and smooth.

She picked it up, took a slow sip, and waited.

The taste hit her tongue. Not bitter like she expected, but something layered, something full, with just the faintest hint of brown butter honey at the end. Good. Really good.

Agatha was watching her closely, eyes flicking to her lips as Rio swallowed.

Finally, Rio set the glass down, tilting her head. “Alright. I’ll admit it.”

Agatha quirked an eyebrow. “Admit what?”

Rio let out a slow, heated breath, voice dipping lower. “I never realized how hungry I was… until I tasted you.”

The words hung between them, heavier than she expected, and for the first time all night, Agatha didn’t have a quick reply.

She just looked at her. Really took her in.

Then, finally, Agatha let out a breathy laugh, shaking her head. “That was fucking smooth.”

Rio smirked. “I know.”

“You always this bold?”

“Only when it works.”

Agatha’s lips twitched. “And what makes you think it’s working?”

Rio leaned in just a fraction more, voice dipping lower. “Because you haven’t looked away from my mouth since I picked up that glass.”

Agatha drew in a sharp breath, hesitation flickering for only a moment before instinct took over. Her fingers slipped around Rio’s wrist, her touch light but possessive, her thumb tracing a slow, teasing stroke over the rapid beat of her pulse.

Rio’s breath hitched.

Agatha didn’t say anything at first, just let her touch linger.

Then, quietly, “Tell me to stop.”

Rio’s fingers twitched, itching to close the space between them entirely. Instead, she tilted her chin, holding Agatha’s gaze steady. “Not a chance.”

And that was it.

Agatha moved first, sliding closer, brushing her lips against Rio’s in a way that wasn’t desperate, wasn’t rushed… just a slow, lingering confirmation of something inevitable.

The kiss was warm, unhurried. Testing. Tasting. Teasing.

Agatha let her fingers trail along Rio’s wrist, anchoring her there. Rio parted her lips slightly, letting her lean in deeper, letting the taste of the beer linger between them.

By the time they pulled apart, Rio was breathless, and Agatha looked entirely too pleased with herself.

“Damn,” Rio muttered.

Agatha exhaled a soft laugh, thumb brushing against Rio’s wrist one last time before letting go. “That’s one way to convert you to beer.”

Rio huffed, shaking her head as she reached for her glass again, lips still tingling. “I’m still not a beer person.”

Agatha smirked, leaning back, her gaze lingering on Rio’s mouth with clear amusement. “Sure you aren’t.”

A charged pause passed between them only long enough for Rio to feel the echo of Agatha’s touch warm against her wrist. She wanted to stay. Wanted to close the distance again. But instead, she grabbed a bar napkin, scribbled something across it, and slid it across the table, letting her fingers brush against Agatha’s one last time.

Agatha waited until Rio was nearly out the door before picking it up. She raised an eyebrow at the neat digits beneath a single name: Rio. Flipping it over, she caught a hint of laughter in her own breath as she read the note scrawled on the back:

“If you’re still deciding, let me know when you’ve made up your mind.”

Her lips curved into a slow, deliberate smile. Rolling the napkin between her fingers, she slipped it into her back pocket, already imagining Rio’s voice on the other end of the line.

Outside, Rio paused on the sidewalk, glancing over her shoulder through the window. Their eyes met in a heated, unspoken promise.

Yeah.

Agatha would definitely be calling.

[ravennaortiz]

Valentine’s Day request

Happy (of course) the reader is female, plus size and she is feeling not very confident with herself and happy uses his ways to express his love for her (if this makes sense)

Also can I have smut 👉🏼👈🏻 use your imagination

Hope you enjoy love! 💜Thank you for sending in a request! 💜As always 18+!

You sighed and brushed at your cheek as a tear slipped down. Why had you even bothered to try dressing up? Staring at your reflection in the mirror as you broke yourself down and picked and plucked at the dress as it hugged your plump body. You hated how the fabric clung to your hips and stomach showing the world and you what you hated most. Revealing every roll and jiggle of your body that was normally kept hidden inside your baggy sweats and hoodies.

You had been disillusioned into thinking you could wear pretty and revealing clothing because of your Old Man.  If he picked you over the thin crow eaters with fake breast and asses that paraded around in their tiny tops and skirts then that meant you could wear something similar. But now as you cried even harder, pulling and yanking at the fabric you felt more like meat being put in a sausage casing.

You were so caught up in your emotions and mental spiral that you didn’t hear Happy come in the room. You jumped as you felt hands grab your waist and a warm body press against your back. Your teary eyes met his. He was silent as he chewed on his toothpick and observed you in the mirror. He didn’t have to ask what was wrong. He knew the way you had your pretty dress balled in your fist that you were worried about your size and that you were feeling unconfident. He frowned as he didnt know how else to tell you that your body was amazing. He loved traveling your curves, the way your ass jiggled as he smacked it, the softness of you pressed against him, your thighs wrapping around his head as he had his favorite meal.

You started to speak but Happy shook his head and put a finger to your lips. Normally this would have set you off but the gesture short circuited your mind in the moment as you felt him pressing hard into your back side. Surely he wasn’t getting turned on seeing you bubbling out of your dress you thought.

Carefully he walked the both of you back towards the bed where he sat. Carefully he slid his hands down your waist and over the curve of your hips where he stopped and raised a brow. You frowned as you met his eyes. He wanted something from you but you weren’t sure what. Happy moved his hands back up to your waist and his fingers tapped at the crow on each side before he moved back to your hips. When he stopped again you spoke.

“Yours” you whispered. Happy took one hand and moved it about before putting it back on your hip. You racked your brain knowing he wanted more. “Your beautiful hips?” you questioned making him grin and nod before he moved down to your thighs. This demonstration went on for awhile as he touched every part of you. Your body felt like it was on fire and cold at the same time. Electricity coursing through your veins and your brain getting foggy with pleasure and lust as he trailed his fingers and eventually his lips trailed over every inch of you.

Happy eventually let go of you and turned around on the bed. He grunted and put his hand under your dress tapping your wet panties before tapping his face. Your cheeks heated as the meaning of his gesture was not lost on you. “No. I’m too big” you started before he rose up and bit your ass cheek making you yelp. Your eyes smarted as you felt him reach back under your dress and rip your panties from your body. You spread your legs as you back up over his face slowly.

Happy let out an annoyed huff before grabbing you and pulling you back onto his face and shoving his tongue into your dripping hot center. You moaned as he held you down on him. Your eyes locked on yourself in the mirror, only able to see the top of his bald head peeking out from the hem of your dress as he lapped up every bit of your sweet arousal. His nose rubbing deliciously against your clit in a way that had you seeing stars and your legs getting wobbly. Your orgasm ripped through you in a way that had you throwing your head back and your hips bucking wildly as Happy continued to use his tongue to pleasure you right into another orgasms that had you collapsing onto him entirely, your legs no longer able to support you.

 You heard him and felt him chuckle against your thighs as he planted kisses and bites to them as he moved you down his body before rising up some. Once he caught your eye he raised a brow at you, his face glistening with your release as he licked his lips.

You rolled your eyes as you spoke. “Your wet, hot, gorgeous pussy” you stated making his snort before he pulled you back up into a sitting position and tapped the tent in his jeans.

An hour later you were both sweaty and catching your breaths as you sat atop him. His cock still twitching deep inside you as the last of his release painted your walls. Hands locked together as he smiled up at you. “Do you feel my love for every perfect inch of you now babygirl?” he inquired softly as he watched you examine yourself in the mirror. You nodded before looking down at him. You had never felt so good in your own body before.

“I might need a daily no scratch that at least twice daily reminder though for life” you joked making him laugh.

[kaiyunsim]

skit —

pairing : idol!riwoo x non-idol!reader

summary : riwoo decides to practice his choreo but you decide to interrupt which totally throws off his flow. some banter and talk happens before you get a private dance lesson from the one and only

warnings : fluff, comfort, angst if you REALLY look for it but not really,

a/n : i love riwoo, can you tell.

[19.99 masterlist]

— wc : 6.9k — not proof read ! —

you don’t really have a reason to be here.

that’s what you think as you push open the slightly heavy practice room door, peeking inside cautiously. the room is dimly lit except for the bright, overhead lights reflecting off the mirrored walls. the soft squeak of sneakers against the smooth floor fills the space, along with the sound of a song you vaguely recognize playing from the speakers.

and in the middle of it all is riwoo.

he doesn’t notice you at first, too focused on the music and his own movement. his body moves in perfect rhythm, each step sharp but fluid, like he isn’t even thinking about it, just feeling it. you’ve always known riwoo was a great dancer, but seeing him like this, completely lost in his own world, is something else.

you hesitate in the doorway, feeling like you’ve just stepped into a place you’re not supposed to be. maybe you should leave before he—

“you just gonna stand there?”

his voice startles you, cutting through the music as he suddenly turns to face you. his expression is unreadable at first, but then the corners of his lips twitch, and you can tell he’s holding back a grin.

busted.

“i—” you clear your throat, trying to ignore the way heat rushes to your face. “i didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“you didn’t,” he says, walking over to the speaker to pause the music. the silence that follows makes you even more aware of how awkward you probably look standing there. “just didn’t expect to see you here.”

“yeah, uh…” you shift on your feet, realizing you don’t actually have a good excuse for being here. “i was… around?”

riwoo raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “oh? just happened to wander into my practice room by accident?”

“something like that.”

he laughs, finally letting his amusement show. “wow, i didn’t know i was so lucky to have you randomly stumble into my life like this.”

you roll your eyes, but the playful tint in his voice makes it hard to be annoyed. riwoo has always had a way of making you feel at ease, even when he’s teasing you.

he tilts his head toward the empty space next to him. “since you’re already here, you might as well stay.”

you hesitate for a moment, but then nod, stepping fully into the room and letting the door close behind you. as you do, riwoo watches you with a curious expression, like he’s trying to figure something out.

“seriously, though,” he says, stretching his arms over his head before shaking out his limbs. “what made you come?”

you shrug, looking anywhere but at him. “just wanted to see you dance.”

there’s a brief pause, and when you finally glance at him, you find him smirking.

“oh? you wanted to see me?”

“i didn’t say it like that.”

“no, no, you totally did.” he crosses his arms, looking way too pleased with himself. “should i be flattered?”

“i take it back. i didn’t want to see you.”

riwoo places a hand over his chest, pretending to be hurt. “wow. cold.”

you shake your head, sighing. “i can leave if you want���”

“nah,” he interrupts, grinning. “you’re already here. might as well make yourself comfortable.”

you exhale, finally allowing yourself to relax a little. moving to the side of the room, you lean against the wall, watching as riwoo walks back to the center of the floor. he picks up a water bottle from the ground, taking a quick sip before stretching again.

“so?” he says, glancing at you. “ready to be amazed?”

“you really think highly of yourself, huh?”

“i mean, you did come all the way here just to watch me, so…”

you groan, covering your face with your hands. “please just dance.”

he laughs but doesn’t tease you any further, turning back toward the mirror as he restarts the music. and just like that, he’s in his element again.

you watch as he moves effortlessly, each step calculated yet natural. the way his body flows with the beat is mesmerizing, like he was born to do this. you’ve always admired his passion, the way he lights up when he’s doing something he loves. seeing it up close like this makes you understand even more why dance means so much to him.

when the song ends, riwoo turns back to you, slightly out of breath. “so?” he asks, running a hand through his hair. “impressed?”

you pretend to think about it for a second, just to mess with him. “hmm. i’ve seen better.”

his jaw drops. “excuse me?”

you laugh, and he narrows his eyes at you. “oh, you’re lucky i’m tired, or i’d make you prove you can do better.”

“bold of you to assume i’d even try.”

“exactly.” he smirks. “you’d lose.”

you shake your head, unable to hide your smile. the playful back-and-forth is so natural, so easy, and you feel yourself fully relaxing in his presence.

riwoo takes another sip of water before plopping down on the floor, patting the space next to him. “sit.”

you raise an eyebrow. “demanding much?”

“just sit.”

rolling your eyes, you drop down beside him, stretching your legs out in front of you. for a moment, neither of you say anything. the room is quiet except for the soft hum of the speaker and the distant sound of people passing by in the hallway.

“you really weren’t expecting me to come, huh?” you say after a beat.

riwoo shakes his head. “nope.”

“were you… happy to see me?”

he turns his head slightly, eyes meeting yours. there’s something softer in his expression now, something unreadable. for a second, you think he might actually say something sincere.

but then—

“hmm,” he hums, pretending to think. “i mean, it was a little annoying.”

you nudge him with your shoulder. “you suck.”

he laughs, nudging you back. “yeah, yeah. but you still came to see me.”

you don’t reply, just rolling your eyes again as he grins. and maybe he’s right. maybe you did come just to see him.

but you’re not going to admit that out loud. not yet, anyway.

you don’t know how long you’ve been sitting on the floor with riwoo, but neither of you seem in a rush to move.

he’s still slightly out of breath from dancing, but he doesn’t seem tired, just relaxed. you watch as he leans back on his palms, stretching his legs out in front of him. his hoodie is slightly damp from sweat, hair a little messy, but he looks completely at ease.

"so," he starts, turning his head toward you, "you really just came all the way here with no plan?"

you hum, pretending to think. "pretty much."

he shakes his head, amused. "you’re lucky i’m nice, otherwise i’d kick you out for interrupting my practice."

"nice? you?" you snort. "that’s funny."

riwoo gasps dramatically, hand over his chest. "wow. first, you insult my dancing skills, and now you’re attacking my character? unbelievable."

"i never insulted your dancing. i just said i’ve seen better."

"that’s the same thing."

"nope. but if you feel insecure about it, i won’t judge."

he glares at you, but there’s no real heat behind it. instead of responding, he suddenly leans forward, grabbing his bag from the side of the room and unzipping it. you watch as he pulls out a small plastic bag filled with snacks, shaking it slightly.

"i was gonna eat these alone," he says, opening the bag. "but since you’re here, i guess i can share."

"wow, how generous of you," you say, voice dripping with sarcasm, but you still accept the snack when he hands it to you.

you pop it into your mouth, chewing slowly, and riwoo watches you with a curious expression. "good, right?"

you shrug. "it’s alright."

"you’re so ungrateful," he sighs, shaking his head. "this is why i don’t share."

"you literally just said you were gonna eat these alone."

"and?"

you roll your eyes but take another anyway, and he smirks, clearly pleased. the conversation drifts into nothing for a moment, just the sound of snacks crunching and the occasional shuffle of fabric as you both adjust your positions.

then, riwoo speaks again.

"you ever think about what it’s like?"

you glance at him. "what?"

he gestures vaguely. "this. the whole… being an idol thing."

you pause, considering his words. it’s not like you’ve never thought about it before, but hearing riwoo bring it up so casually makes you more aware of just how much it actually means to him.

"i guess," you say after a moment. "but it’s probably not the same as actually experiencing it."

"yeah." he leans back, letting his head rest against the mirror. "it’s weird, sometimes. like, i always knew this was what i wanted, but now that i’m here, it still doesn’t feel real, you know?"

you study him for a moment. his expression is unreadable, but there’s something in his voice that feels heavier than usual.

"does it ever get overwhelming?" you ask.

he laughs, but it’s softer this time. "of course. all the time."

"but you love it?"

he nods. "yeah. i really do."

you can tell by the way he says it that he means it. there’s a kind of quiet certainty in his voice, the kind that only comes from doing something you truly care about.

"what’s the best part?" you ask.

he tilts his head, thinking. "probably performing. there’s something about being on stage that makes everything feel worth it. like, no matter how exhausted i am, the second i step in front of a crowd, it just… disappears."

"like adrenaline?"

"yeah, but more than that." he exhales, staring at the ceiling. "it’s hard to explain. it’s like… in that moment, nothing else matters. it’s just me, the music, and the people watching."

you try to imagine it. standing on stage, lights shining down, thousands of people watching, cheering, singing along. it’s a world so different from your own, but the way riwoo talks about it makes it sound almost magical.

"and the worst part?" you ask quietly.

he hesitates for a second before sighing. "probably how little time i have for anything else."

you blink. "anything else?"

"like…" he gestures vaguely again. "normal stuff. being able to just go out without thinking about who might recognize me. spending time with people without feeling guilty about not practicing. not having to constantly worry about what comes next."

"but you always seem so laid-back," you point out.

he grins. "yeah, well. cameras only capture the good things."

there’s something about the way he says it that makes your chest feel strangely heavy. you’ve always known that being an idol isn’t easy, but hearing riwoo talk about it like this makes it feel more real, more complicated.

"do you ever regret it?" you ask.

he shakes his head immediately. "never."

you raise an eyebrow. "not even a little?"

"not even a little." he turns his head to look at you, and there’s something steady in his gaze. "it’s hard, yeah. but i don’t think i’d ever want to do anything else."

you hold his gaze for a moment before nodding. "that’s cool."

he snorts. "that’s all you have to say?"

"what do you want me to say? ‘wow, riwoo, you’re so inspirational’?"

he grins. "i wouldn’t mind."

you roll your eyes. "you’re impossible."

"and yet, you’re still here, listening to me ramble."

"because i have nothing better to do."

"ouch," he says, but he’s still smiling.

the room falls into silence again, but it’s not awkward. it’s the kind of quiet that feels comfortable, like neither of you need to fill the space with words.

then, riwoo exhales and stretches his arms over his head. "anyway," he says, shaking off the heavier atmosphere, "you should be honored, you know."

you glance at him. "why?"

"because i don’t usually open up like this," he says dramatically. "you’re one of the lucky few who gets to hear my deep, emotional thoughts."

"oh wow," you deadpan. "i feel so special."

"you should!" he nudges you with his knee. "i could be spending this break eating my snacks in peace, but instead, i’m here having an emotional heart-to-heart with you."

"right. so selfless of you."

"i know, right?"

you shake your head, laughing. "whatever you say, riwoo."

he grins, leaning back on his palms again. "you should come by more often."

you glance at him, surprised by the casual way he says it. "oh?"

"yeah," he shrugs. "it’s nice, having someone to talk to between practices. plus, you keep me entertained."

"so i’m basically your personal comedian?"

"exactly."

you scoff. "you’re the worst."

"but you’ll still come, right?"

you don’t know why, but the question makes your chest feel warm.

you roll your eyes, but there’s a smile on your lips. "yeah, yeah. i’ll think about it."

riwoo just smirks, like he already knows your answer.

"alright, break time’s over," riwoo announces, pushing himself up from the floor.

you groan, still comfortably seated on the mat. "that was barely a break."

"you’ve been sitting there doing nothing," he says, rolling his eyes. "you don’t need a break."

"mentally, i do."

he huffs a laugh, then stretches his arms above his head. he looks over at you, then smirks. "actually, since you’ve been here for so long, why don’t you try dancing?"

you blink, caught off guard. "huh?"

"yeah, you’re just sitting there watching. might as well join in."

"no thanks," you reply quickly.

"why not?" he presses, stepping closer to you. "it’s not like i’m asking you to perform. just a couple moves."

"riwoo," you say, shaking your head. "i don’t dance."

"so?"

"so, i’m not about to make a fool of myself."

he smirks, not at all deterred. "sounds like an excuse to me."

"it is," you admit, feeling no shame about it.

he laughs lightly. "whatever, you’ll regret it if you don’t at least try." without waiting for a response, he reaches down and grabs your wrist, tugging you to your feet.

"come on," he says, clearly enjoying your discomfort.

"this is such a bad idea," you mutter, trying to resist, but he’s annoyingly strong.

"it’ll be fun," he says, grinning. "trust me."

you have no choice but to follow as he leads you to the center of the practice room. he steps back a little, putting a little distance between the two of you, and nods.

"alright, watch closely. i’ll teach you something simple."

"define simple," you murmur under your breath.

he gives you a side-eye. "simple as in, you can totally do this."

"we’ll see about that."

he just chuckles. "don’t overthink it. just feel the beat, okay?"

he moves, easily sliding into a smooth groove that matches the rhythm of the music playing in the background. it’s nothing crazy, just a few steps, but the way he moves, the way his body naturally flows with the beat. it’s effortless.

you watch him for a moment, trying to process how easy he makes it look.

"alright, your turn," he says, nodding at you.

you hesitate, unsure of yourself. you glance at him nervously. "i’m not so sure about this…"

"don’t worry about it," he says easily. "just follow what i do. we’ll go slow."

you take a deep breath and try. you start to mimic his movements, but almost immediately, you realize how awkward you feel. your body’s not moving the way you want it to, and you can’t stop thinking about how ridiculous you must look.

riwoo watches you, and for a second, you swear you see a flicker of amusement in his eyes.

"you’re way too stiff," he says, though there’s no mockery in his tone.

"i know," you mutter, stopping mid-move.

he sighs lightly and steps closer. "don’t think so hard. just move."

"i am moving," you argue, but it’s not with any real bite.

"you look like a robot," he teases, then places his hands on your shoulders, gently guiding you back into position.

your heart skips a beat as his fingers lightly press into your skin, and for a second, you freeze. you’ve never been so aware of someone’s touch before, especially not in a situation like this.

"relax," he says, his voice low and patient. "i’m just adjusting you. don’t be so tense."

"i’m not tense," you protest, even though you can feel yourself stiffening under his touch.

"yes, you are," he says with a quiet laugh. "just let go a little."

there’s something about his voice that makes it hard to resist. his hands are still on your shoulders, and the warmth of his touch lingers as he gently moves you, shifting your stance, adjusting your arms.

when he steps back, he gives you space again, and you take a deep breath.

"try it again," he encourages, his tone gentle but confident. "but this time, just let it flow."

you give it another go, and it’s still awkward, but somehow, it feels a little better. less forced. less stiff. you move, more in sync with the rhythm than you thought you could.

"that’s it," riwoo says, nodding approvingly. "see? you just needed to relax."

you glance at him, then shrug as nonchalantly as you can. "yeah, well, don’t get used to it."

he smirks. "we’ll see about that."

just as you start to get a little more comfortable with the movements, he steps back, an idea apparently lighting up his eyes.

"hey," he says, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "why don’t we take this up a notch?"

you raise an eyebrow, unsure. "what do you mean?"

"i’ll teach you a choreo," he says, not waiting for you to respond. "it’s not that hard. i promise."

"riwoo…" you start to protest, but he’s already moving into position, signaling you to follow him.

"just trust me," he says, his voice suddenly much softer. "i’ll guide you."

before you can say anything else, he steps closer again. this time, he places his hands lightly on your sides, guiding your posture, adjusting your movements as you try to follow his steps.

"don’t overthink it," he murmurs, his voice quiet but reassuring. "just go with the flow."

when he moves, you move, and somehow, you start to sync up with him. the movements aren’t perfect, but they’re less awkward, more fluid. you don’t even care how bad you probably look, because right now, everything feels oddly right.

finally, after a few more steps, he takes a step back, letting you try the combo on your own.

you glance over at him, a little unsure.

"not bad," he says with a satisfied grin. "you’re getting the hang of it."

"yeah, don’t expect me to start performing on stage anytime soon," you joke, trying to hide the way your heart is still pounding from the close contact.

he laughs, clearly not bothered by your comment. "maybe one day."

you both catch your breath for a moment, but then riwoo steps toward you again, grinning.

"hey, want to try dancing with me to this one?"

you blink. "what?"

"just follow my lead," he says, grinning wider now.

"you’re really not gonna let me off easy, huh?"

"nope," he replies, then extends his hand to you, an invitation you find yourself unable to refuse.

you almost fall as you try to copy his choreo. it’s not bad, if anything it’s fun, and you’re getting the hang of it.

"see?" he says softly, his eyes meeting yours for a second before he looks back at the floor. "it’s not so bad when you don’t think too hard."

you nod, still feeling a little breathless. "yeah. not bad at all."

there’s a quiet, unspoken understanding between you two as you dance, and in that moment, nothing else seems to matter.

the music shifts, a little more upbeat now, and riwoo adjusts his pace, pulling you along with him. you try to follow, but this time, the steps are quicker, and you're struggling to keep up. he notices immediately, and with a knowing grin, he slows down for you to copy.

"hey, take it easy," he says, his voice gentle. "you don’t have to rush. just feel it."

you nod, focusing more on your movements than trying to impress him. you don’t have the pressure of keeping up with him anymore. this isn't a performance, it's just... dancing. and for the first time, you start to enjoy it. you stop thinking about how you might look or how clumsy you might be and just let your body move with the beat.

"see? you’re doing fine," riwoo says, breaking the moment of silence. he looks at you with that relaxed smile of his, his eyes bright with encouragement. "you're getting the hang of it. just like i thought you would."

you smile, the tension in your shoulders easing. "yeah, i guess it’s not too bad," you admit, a little out of breath from the dance, but also from something else. you can't quite place it.

"not bad? c’mon, that’s a compliment coming from you," he teases, his smile widening. he moves again, picking up the pace just a little, and this time you follow more easily, matching his energy.

you chuckle, trying to hide the way your heart speeds up at the contact. "i didn’t realize i was that bad."

"not at all," he says, his hands still resting on your arms, his touch reassuring, like he's genuinely trying to make sure you’re okay. "you’re doing great. you just have to trust yourself more."

it’s easy to forget that he’s an idol. the way he speaks to you, the way he moves with such ease, makes him feel like just another person, not someone who's constantly in the spotlight. you’ve never seen him in that world, on stage, surrounded by cameras, fans, and the pressure of expectations. but somehow, when he’s here with you, there’s none of that. it’s just him. and right now, that’s all you need.

"you make it look so easy," you say quietly, the words slipping out before you can stop them. "like you were born to do this."

he pauses, a playful glint in his eyes. "well, that’s because i was just as bad as you." his grin widens as he teases you again, but there’s a flicker of something softer behind his expression.

you raise an eyebrow, not quite sure if he's joking. "really?"

"yeah," he says, his voice shifting slightly, more thoughtful now. "i’ve been dancing since i was a kid. it wasn’t always this easy, but when you do something enough, you kind of just get used to it, you know?"

you nod, trying to imagine him as a little kid, practicing in front of a mirror, perfecting every move. it’s hard to picture, but there’s a certain kind of passion behind his words that makes you believe it.

"i guess it’s like that with anything," you murmur, meeting his gaze. "you just have to keep trying."

"exactly," he says, his tone warm and encouraging. "it’s about consistency. and patience."

you stay quiet for a moment, reflecting on his words. you’ve always thought of dancing as something for other people as something you could never do, something you’d just watch from the sidelines. but now, in this moment, with riwoo guiding you, it feels different. you can do this. you just need to keep trying.

the song changes again, and this time, it’s slower. you take a breath and step into the new rhythm, the fluidity of the moves matching the soft beat. riwoo matches your pace, his eyes focused, but there’s still that easy smile on his lips.

you find yourself getting lost in the movement again, your body moving naturally now, following his choreo without overthinking it. the steps aren’t perfect, but they feel more natural this time. the accidental touches between the two of you aren’t awkward, they’re just part of the flow of the dance, part of being in sync.

for a while, you don’t think about anything else. it’s just you, riwoo, and the music. it’s peaceful. free. the world outside of this room doesn’t exist. it’s just you two, moving together.

you lose track of time, and eventually, the song comes to an end. you’re both breathing a little harder, sweat beading at your temples, but there’s a quiet sense of satisfaction between you.

riwoo steps back, still smiling. "not bad, huh?"

you laugh, a little out of breath. "yeah, not bad." you try to act cool, but there’s something about the way your heart is racing that gives away how much you’ve enjoyed this. how much you’ve enjoyed being so close to him.

he offers you a drink of water, and you take it, gulping it down eagerly.

"i think you could be a great dancer if you wanted to," he says casually, sitting down on the edge of the mat to catch his breath. "you just need more practice. maybe one day we’ll get you on stage."

you shake your head, laughing nervously. "i don’t think i’m cut out for that. i’d probably trip over my own feet."

"i don’t know," he says thoughtfully, eyes glinting with that mischievous spark. "you’ve got potential. i’ve seen worse dancers than you."

"is that supposed to be a compliment?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.

he grins, flashing a quick wink. "definitely."

you chuckle, shaking your head. "i’m not falling for that." but there's a warmth to his teasing that makes it hard to keep up the act. it’s the same warmth that’s been there since the moment you walked into the room. the same warmth that’s made dancing with him feel less like a lesson and more like... something else.

and in that moment, you realize that maybe this whole thing, the dancing, the closeness, the way riwoo has been teaching you, it’s not about dancing at all. it’s about being with him. it’s about how easy it feels to be near him, to follow his lead, to let yourself be vulnerable without worrying about messing up.

you look at him, trying to hide the soft smile tugging at your lips, but he catches it. "you okay?" he asks, his voice gentle, like he can see right through you.

you nod, keeping the smile hidden behind a sip of water. "yeah. just... thinking."

"about what?" he tilts his head, curiosity in his eyes.

"about how i never expected to end up here," you admit, lowering the bottle. "with you. dancing."

"well, you’re doing fine," he says, offering you that grin again. "keep it up, and you might just get better than me." he winks.

you roll your eyes, though you can’t help the way your heart skips at his words. "i think you’re getting ahead of yourself."

but his smile doesn’t fade. "maybe. but you never know. anything’s possible."

and for the first time in a while, you start to believe it.

the studio is quiet now, the music turned off, the lights dimmed just enough to make the room feel less like a space for rehearsals and more like a place for something personal. something shared. you and riwoo are sitting on the floor, your backs resting against the cool wall, your legs stretched out in front of you. it’s late, the only sound the faint hum of the air conditioning and your soft breaths after the intense practice.

you both haven’t said much since finishing the last dance. there’s a comfortable silence, the kind that feels easy between you two, like it doesn’t need to be filled with words all the time. but still, there’s this lingering feeling, like there's something more you want to say, something that needs to be said.

"you know," riwoo says, breaking the silence, his voice soft but not too quiet. "i didn’t think we’d end up here. you and me, talking after practice. i figured you’d be, like, too cool for me."

you chuckle, glancing at him sideways. "too cool? really?"

"yeah," he says with a grin, "you have that vibe. like you’re the type to just dip out as soon as the practice ends, no time for anyone else."

you laugh, a little louder than you meant to, but it feels good. "i’m not that bad. i swear."

"uh-huh," he teases, nudging you with his foot. "you’re full of surprises."

you tilt your head, not sure if he’s joking or if he’s being serious. "what kind of surprises?"

"i don’t know," he shrugs, looking over at you, his eyes reflecting a flicker of something deeper. "just... the way you are. you don’t show it, but you’re different from what i expected."

you stare at him, trying to read his expression. there’s something about the way he says it that makes you feel seen. like he’s looking at you, really looking at you, and he’s not just seeing the surface but something else. something real.

"what did you expect?" you ask, your voice quieter than you intended.

he thinks for a second before responding, his tone thoughtful. "i don’t know. i thought you might be a little standoffish. or maybe too serious. but you’re not. you’re easy to talk to, not all caught up in your own world."

you’re surprised by his answer, but you don’t let it show. you just smile, a little unsure of how to respond. "maybe i’ve just been good at pretending."

he raises an eyebrow. "pretending? what do you mean?"

you shrug, feeling a little more vulnerable than you want to. "i don’t know. i guess i’ve always been the quiet one. the one who doesn’t stand out. so i just... act like i don’t care, even when i do."

he looks at you, his expression softening, and for a moment, you think he might say something else, something that digs a little deeper. but instead, he just leans back against the wall, his hands resting behind him, and sighs.

"i get that," he says, his voice quieter now. "i think... i think a lot of us pretend, in some way. we try to fit into a mold, be what other people expect us to be, even if it’s not who we really are."

you turn your head to look at him, intrigued. "really? you too?"

he chuckles lightly, his eyes closing as he tilts his head back. "yeah. being an idol, it’s all about the image, you know? how you’re supposed to look, how you’re supposed to act. sometimes, it’s hard to figure out where you end and the image begins."

you nod slowly, understanding what he means. you’ve never been in the spotlight like him, but you can imagine the pressure of always being watched, always having to be something more than just yourself. it must be exhausting.

"do you ever get tired of it?" you ask, your voice quieter now, more thoughtful.

riwoo’s eyes flicker to you, and for a second, you see something different in his gaze. something almost... vulnerable. but it’s gone before you can really pinpoint it.

"yeah," he admits, his voice a little rough. "sometimes. but it’s part of the job. and i love what i do, so i can’t complain too much."

you nod again, not sure what else to say. it’s a strange feeling, knowing that even someone like riwoo, with all his talent and confidence, has doubts and struggles. it makes him feel more real, more human. like he’s just a person trying to find his way, just like you are.

you sit in silence for a while, the hum of the air conditioning filling the space between you. it’s not uncomfortable. it’s just... peaceful. you don’t need to fill the silence with words. not with him.

"i have a question," he says suddenly, breaking the quiet. you look over at him, waiting for him to continue. "what’s your dream?"

you blink, taken aback by the question. you hadn’t expected him to ask something so personal. "my dream?" you repeat, trying to think of an answer. "i don’t really know. i guess... i guess i want to do something that makes me feel like i matter, you know? something that makes me feel like i’m not just... another face in the crowd."

he nods, his expression thoughtful. "i get that. it’s hard to feel like you’re seen sometimes, like what you’re doing matters."

you bite your lip, feeling a little exposed. you never really thought about it that way, but it’s true. you’ve spent so much of your life trying to blend in, trying to avoid standing out. and maybe that’s why it’s always felt so empty.

"what about you?" you ask, the question slipping out before you can stop it. "what’s your dream?"

he pauses for a long time, his gaze distant, like he’s searching for the right words. "honestly?" he finally says, his voice softer. "i think my dream is to be happy. to do what i love and not feel like i’m losing myself along the way."

you’re surprised by his answer, not because it’s not a good one, but because it’s so... real. it’s simple, but it’s also deep. it makes you think that maybe, deep down, all any of us really want is to be content, to feel like we’re living for ourselves and not for others.

"i think that’s a good dream," you say, your voice quiet but sincere.

the night has stretched on, but it still feels like time is bending in your favor. you and riwoo have settled into a quiet rhythm, the hum of the studio a backdrop to your words, as if the world outside has paused, just for a moment. you’re still sitting side by side, legs stretched in front of you, the cool air swirling around the room, but there’s a different energy now. it’s more... comfortable. like you’ve crossed some invisible line, and now, there’s no going back.

riwoo stretches his arms over his head, his body lithe and graceful, and you watch him for a moment, the way he moves, how natural it looks. it’s mesmerizing, like the dance never stops, even when the music’s off. you can’t help but think about how many times he must’ve practiced, how many hours he’s put in, to make it all look so effortless. it’s no wonder he’s so good at what he does.

"you know," he says, breaking your thoughts, his voice casual but his eyes a little more serious, "you should come by more often. watch me practice, I mean."

you blink, caught off guard by the suggestion. you’ve been so wrapped up in the conversation and everything that’s been happening that you hadn’t really thought about coming back here. but the idea of seeing him dance again, of being here, feels... right. it feels like something you might want to do.

"yeah?" you ask, a little unsure. "you wouldn’t mind?"

he shrugs, his expression softening into something more playful. "nah, I wouldn’t mind at all. I actually kind of like having you here. keeps things interesting."

you smile at that, the warmth in your chest spreading. it’s funny, how a simple statement, a small suggestion, can make you feel like this. like maybe you’re more than just a casual acquaintance to him, more than just a person watching from the sidelines. like you matter, in a way that’s both unexpected and comforting.

"i’ll think about it," you say, your voice light, but there’s something in the way you say it that makes you realize you’re not just saying that to brush him off. you actually want to come back. you want to be here, in this space, with him.

he grins, that mischievous glint in his eyes making your heart skip a beat. "you better. it wouldn’t be the same without you now."

you laugh, nudging him with your shoulder, trying to hide the way your heart is racing, but he notices. of course he does. he always notices.

"you’re such a show-off," you tease, trying to keep the conversation light, but you can’t help the way your thoughts are starting to drift. does he really want me here? it feels like he does, but maybe it’s just the way he jokes around. maybe it’s just his personality. but you can’t help but wonder, as he looks at you with that easy smile, if there’s something more underneath all the teasing.

"maybe," he says, leaning back against the wall, his arms folding behind his head. his eyes are on the ceiling now, but he doesn’t seem distant. he’s still there with you, still here. "but you’re the one who’s been hanging around, you know. i’m just saying, it’d be nice if you came back."

you stare at him for a second, feeling a mix of emotions. confusion, excitement, maybe even a little nervousness. you try to keep your voice steady when you reply, but it cracks just a little. "i’ll come back."

he doesn’t respond right away, just turns his head to look at you, his gaze quiet and soft. there’s something unspoken between you two now, something that lingers in the air like the scent of something sweet, something that’s just out of reach, but you can almost taste it if you try hard enough. he’s not just asking you to come back to watch him dance. he’s asking for something more. and you’re not sure what that something is yet, but it feels... important.

"promise?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper, as if the weight of his words is more than just the request. there’s something in his tone, something gentle but earnest, and for a moment, everything else falls away. the studio, the night, the world, it all feels distant, like it doesn’t matter.

you pause, your heart beating a little faster, before you nod, a small but sincere smile tugging at your lips. "promise."

it’s funny, how something as simple as a promise can feel like it means so much more than it really does. but in this moment, it does. you feel it in your bones, the way your words settle into the space between you two, the way they’re not just words. they’re a promise to show up, to be there, to see what happens next.

he smiles then, the kind of smile that lights up his entire face, and you can’t help but return it, your chest warm with something that feels like anticipation. you don’t know what will come of this, what will happen the next time you come back to watch him practice, but you know one thing for sure, you’ll be there. you’ll be here, with him.

and maybe, just maybe, that’s all you need to know for now.

"good," he says, his voice light again, that playful tone returning. "because i’m not going to let you get away that easily."

you laugh, the sound bubbling up from your chest, and for a moment, it’s just the two of you, laughing together, your promise hanging in the air between you, unspoken but understood.

and somehow, it feels like the beginning of something new. something unexpected. something you can’t quite name yet, but that feels right, all the same.

as you stand up to leave, you glance at him one last time, catching his eye. there’s a quiet understanding in his gaze, a softness that wasn’t there before, and for a second, you wonder if he’s feeling the same thing you are.

"see you soon," you say, your voice steady but your heart racing just a little.

"yeah," he replies, his voice low but sure. "i’ll be here."

and with that, you step out of the studio, the door clicking shut behind you, leaving only the sound of your footsteps echoing down the hallway. but even as you leave, you can’t shake the feeling that something has changed. something has shifted. and you know, deep down, you’ll be back. you’ll be back to see him, to see where this goes, to see what you both can become.

and that thought is enough to make your heart flutter just a little bit faster.

— ty for reading ! —

series taglist : @somber-reads @saritahwang

bnd taglist : @bxnedo

perm taglist @s0shroe

[bread-crum206]

A Game of Hearts

Chapter thirty-nine: A Step Forward

Summary: Y/N’s father is a VIP for the games, he makes a deal with the Frontman that if he marries his only daughter that he will continue to sponsor the games. However, Y/N is not fond of this decision as she loathes the games and in turn, loathes the Frontman as well. Will she grow to love him? Will he let his walls down?

previous | 39 | next

Series Masterlist

The morning light filtered softly through the curtains, casting long, gentle shadows across the room. The quiet was almost suffocating, yet somehow, it felt safe. You could hear the faint hum of the world outside, distant, like it was trying to remind you that life was still moving—whether you were ready for it or not. But in this moment, with In-ho still beside you, the rest of the world felt distant. Irrelevant.

His fingers, still intertwined with yours, twitched slightly. A soft breath escaped his lips, and a moment later, he shifted closer, his chest brushing against yours, his warmth wrapping around you like a promise.

“I didn’t expect this,” he said quietly, his voice thick with sleep, low and gravelly.

“What do you mean?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He hesitated, like the words were difficult to form, as though they were trapped behind a barrier he’d spent years building. His gaze dropped to your hand, still resting in his.

“You,” he said finally, his voice rougher than usual, but there was no hardness behind it. “I didn’t expect to let anyone this close again.”

You blinked, caught off guard. The vulnerability in his words settled like a weight in your chest. You didn’t know what to say, didn’t know if you even had to. His admission left you speechless, but there was a warmth growing between you both, a connection that went beyond mere words.

“In-ho…” you started, your voice soft, but the words faltered as you saw the rawness in his eyes.

He shook his head slightly, as if trying to clear his mind, but his gaze never left yours. He took a slow breath, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. And then, he leaned in, brushing his lips against yours with a tenderness that made your heart stutter in your chest.

But when he kissed you again, it was different—softer, but filled with a need that was undeniable. His lips moved against yours, slow and deliberate, as if savoring every moment. His hand drifted to your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin, a soft caress that made you melt into him.

Your pulse quickened, every nerve in your body awake to the feel of him. You responded, your hand finding its way to his hair, threading your fingers through the dark strands. There was a hunger in the kiss now, an unspoken promise that this was only the beginning.

His body shifted closer, pressing against you, and you could feel the heat radiating off him. Your breath hitched as his lips moved from your mouth down to your jaw, trailing kisses that left a fire in their wake. When his lips brushed the sensitive skin beneath your ear, a shiver ran through you, your fingers tightening in his hair.

He pulled back just slightly, his forehead resting against yours, his breath coming in shallow gasps.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he admitted, his voice raw with honesty.

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. “We don’t have to figure it out right now.”

His lips pressed into a thin line as he gazed at you, his dark eyes searching yours. And then, slowly, as if he was giving himself permission, he nodded, his hand slipping to the small of your back, pulling you closer.

“Alright,” he murmured. “One step at a time.”

And when his lips met yours again, this time slower, more deliberate, you could feel the weight of it—the connection, the trust, the tenderness—and it made every part of you ache for more. This was no longer just about the need to feel close. This was about something deeper, something that neither of you had fully realized until now.

His touch was soft but insistent as his hands moved to your waist, his body pressing closer, almost as if to erase the space between you. And when he kissed you again, this time it was a kiss that spoke of everything unsaid, everything that had been building up to this moment. It was the kiss of two people finding solace in each other, taking one step closer to something they didn’t yet fully understand—but it felt right.

———————

39! Sorry for it being late… 😬 hope you enjoy! Lemme know what you think!

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[kpop-reactions-povs]

Stray kids- Their S/O sleeping on the couch after an argument

Bang Chan

The argument had been tense—words sharper than usual, frustration lingering in the air. Chan had been stressed, and instead of talking it out, he’d snapped, saying something he instantly regretted. “Maybe you should stop expecting me to fix everything.” The second the words left his mouth, he wanted to take them back, but you had already turned away, choosing silence over another fight.

Hours later, when he finally cooled down and went to find you, his heart clenched painfully at the sight of you curled up on the couch, your arms wrapped around yourself instead of him. Guilt sat heavy on his chest as he crouched beside you, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Jagi… I was wrong,” he whispered, his voice thick with regret. “I didn’t mean what I said. I hate seeing you like this.” His fingers ghosted over your cheek before he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Come to bed? Please?” If you hesitated, he’d gently pull you into his arms, refusing to let go until you knew just how sorry he was.

Lee Know

“Fine. Do whatever you want.” Minho’s voice had been cold, distant, and it hurt more than if he had shouted. The argument had been over something small, but the way he brushed you off like you didn’t matter made your chest ache. You had stormed out of the bedroom, unwilling to stay where you weren’t wanted.

Minho sat alone, staring at the empty space beside him in bed, but the longer he waited, the more his heart ached. When he finally peeked out, his throat tightened at the sight of you asleep on the couch. You looked so small, your face still slightly damp from frustrated tears. He hated himself in that moment. With a deep sigh, he grabbed a blanket and draped it over you before kneeling beside the couch. “I was an ass,” he admitted quietly, his fingers hesitating before brushing against yours. “I didn’t mean to push you away.” He’d sit there until you woke up, waiting for the moment you’d let him hold you again.

Changbin

The fight had been bad—worse than usual. Changbin had been so caught up in his emotions that he blurted out, “I don’t need you hovering over me all the time!” The second he saw the hurt flash across your face, he knew he had messed up. But by the time he tried to take it back, you had already walked out, leaving him standing in the empty bedroom, fists clenched.

The guilt weighed on him, making it impossible to sleep. When he finally worked up the courage to check on you, his heart dropped. Seeing you curled up on the couch, your back turned toward him, made something inside him break. Without a word, he walked over and carefully lifted you into his arms. Even if you stirred, he held on tighter. “I didn’t mean it,” he whispered, voice laced with regret. “I always need you.” He carried you back to bed, pressing soft kisses to your hair until you relaxed in his hold.

Hyunjin

Hyunjin had stormed off after the argument, tears threatening to spill, frustration bubbling in his chest. He had said something cruel in the heat of the moment—“Maybe if you actually listened to me for once, we wouldn’t be fighting!” The second it left his lips, he knew he had hurt you. But instead of apologizing, he let his pride get in the way, slamming the bedroom door behind him.

Hours passed, and his anger melted into guilt. When he stepped into the living room and saw you asleep on the couch, a sharp pain pierced through his chest. You looked exhausted, as if the argument had drained everything from you. Without a second thought, he knelt beside you, his fingers tracing soft circles against your wrist. “I didn’t mean it,” he murmured, his voice thick with regret. “You always listen to me. I was just being a jerk.” He hesitated before pressing a kiss to your hand. “Please come to bed. I hate sleeping without you.”

Han

Jisung had never wanted to argue with you. But stress and exhaustion had made him say something he instantly regretted—“Maybe I just need some space from you right now.” The moment he saw how your expression fell, he wanted to take it back. But instead of fixing it, he let you walk away.

Now, seeing you asleep on the couch, his heart ached so badly it felt unbearable. He walked over slowly, hovering beside you, debating whether to wake you. Instead, he sighed and grabbed a pillow, lying down on the floor beside you. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his fingers barely brushing against your arm. “I didn’t mean it. I never want space from you.” He laid there until you woke up, his eyes soft with guilt, silently pleading for forgiveness.

Felix

Felix hated fighting with you. He hated the way he had raised his voice, hated the way you had looked at him before turning away. The fight had been over something small, but the words he said—“It’s not like you understand what I’m going through.”—stung in a way he couldn’t take back.

When he walked out and saw you asleep on the couch, his heart shattered. He immediately dropped to his knees beside you, his fingers trembling as he brushed against your hand. “I didn’t mean it,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion. “You’re the only one who understands me.” His eyes burned with tears as he pressed his forehead against your arm. “Please come back to bed. I don’t want to spend another second apart.”

Seungmin

Seungmin had been sharp with his words—“Not everything is about you.” The second he saw the way your face fell, he regretted it, but his pride kept him from apologizing. Hours passed, but the guilt only grew heavier, eating away at him.

When he finally stepped out and saw you asleep on the couch, he hesitated. But after a moment, he grabbed a blanket and tucked it around you. Instead of going back to the bedroom, he sat on the floor beside you, staring at the ceiling. “I was wrong,” he admitted quietly. “You deserve better than that.” If you stirred, he’d gently take your hand, his fingers lacing through yours. “Can I make it up to you?”

Jeongin

Jeongin had never meant to let the argument get that bad. But his frustration got the best of him, and before he could stop himself, he said, “Sometimes, you make things harder than they need to be.” The hurt in your eyes was immediate, and it made his stomach drop.

When he finally walked out and saw you asleep on the couch, he felt like the worst person in the world. Carefully, he sat down beside you, his hand hovering above yours before finally intertwining his fingers with yours. “I was an idiot,” he whispered, squeezing your hand gently. “You make my life better, not harder. I don’t know why I said that.” He leaned in closer, his lips barely brushing your knuckles. “Can we start over?”

[cece693]

You're Just Jealous I Have Him

pairing: enoch o'connor x male reader tags: I never liked Emma tbh, just looking at her gives me a headache, like what do you mean it's totally normal to like the grandson of your ex, like ew, enoch just being his sassy self, Emma is mad, I had so much fun writing this, they're all of age even if there's no smut

You’d lost track of how many times you and Enoch had slipped away from the others to steal a quiet moment alone. Inside the loop, time was an endless repeat of the same day, but your heart felt anything but repetitive whenever you were together. The clandestine nature of your relationship created a heady excitement—an electric undercurrent that made every glance, every accidental brush of hands, burn brighter.

Tonight is no different. 

The wooden banister pressed into your back as Enoch crowded you against it, his hand curving gently around your cheek. That fleeting moment was all you had before dinner—another stolen breath in the endless loop of days. “Miss Peregrine is calling,” you said quietly, though you made no move to leave. Neither did Enoch, who dipped forward, lips ghosting over yours in a featherlight kiss that made your pulse flutter.

“You should do that more often.”

You blinked. “Do what?”

“Look at me like that,” he answered, with a grin that was equal parts cocky and affectionate. Then, as if reality caught up to him, his features fell back into their usual stoic mask. “We should go. If we’re late again, she’ll start questioning.”

Together, you descended the stairs into the foyer. The other children were already making their way to the dining room. You felt a small, simmering tension as soon as you stepped inside. Emma was at the table, arms folded, eyes bright with an aggravation she didn’t bother hiding. Enoch’s jaw clenched almost imperceptibly. You gave his hand a reassuring squeeze beneath the table before sitting down. As you settled into the meal—tonight it was soup, bread, and roasted vegetables—you could feel Emma’s gaze boring into you. It prickled along your skin.

Plates clinked, children chatted, and Miss Peregrine oversaw it all with her usual poise. Millard—still invisible—cracked jokes that had Claire giggling. Bronwyn helped serve the stew, her unnatural strength making the heavy pot look weightless. Olive floated just a few inches above her chair, anchored only by a weighted belt. But none of that could distract you from the heat radiating off Emma—hotter than any flame she could conjure.

Finally, Emma cleared her throat. “So,” she began, voice pitched loud enough to slice through the general chatter, “M/N, you’ve been busy these last few evenings.”

A hush spread like a ripple. Your palms grew clammy, and Enoch immediately set down his spoon, eyes locked on Emma. “Yes, well,” you started slowly, “I’ve been helping Enoch with some projects.”

It was a half-truth; most of your private time with Enoch was far from “work.” Emma let out a humorless laugh. “Oh, I’m sure those projects are quite involved. Enoch is known for his…fixations.” Her tone was pointed and dripping with venom.

You bristled. Enoch’s face was utterly still, but you sensed the tension coiling beneath his calm exterior. “Don’t be crass, Emma,” he said, voice low. “You’re the last person who should talk about fixations.”

She scowled, a small flame sparking to life in her palm and dancing dangerously close to the tablecloth before she clenched her fist to snuff it out. “Oh?” She leaned forward, elbows on the table. “And what exactly do you mean by that?”

Enoch’s lips curled into a sarcastic half-smile. “You know precisely what I mean.”

Your heart thudded painfully at the tension. Emma’s eyes flicked to you, softening for a split second before anger hardened her expression once again. “I think,” Emma continued, adopting a saccharine tone, “if there’s something going on, especially involving someone I—someone we all—care about, it should be shared.” Her gaze pinned you, and a cold knot twisted in your stomach. She’d been growing bolder recently: trying to corner you for chats, sending you notes that bordered on obsessive. You’d tried to let her down gently, but Emma was relentless.

Miss Peregrine looked up from her plate, brow furrowed. “Emma, please drop the subject,” she warned, her eyes glinting dangerously as though she already understood exactly what was happening. But Emma ignored her.

Instead, she leveled Enoch with a challenging stare. “You’ve been monopolizing M/N. It’s not fair.”

Bronwyn set the soup pot down with a thump, frowning. Horace, always a little too intrigued by drama, swept his gaze around the table, uneasy. Enoch’s jaw set. “Grow up, Emma. M/N spends time with me because he wants to.”

She snorted. “Wants to? Or do you have him under some twisted manipulation?”

Your eyes widened. The accusation was ludicrous, but Emma seemed too riled to notice. Her words stung. “Hey, that’s enough,” you said firmly, pushing down your nerves. “It’s not like that, Emma.”

“Then what is it like?” she demanded, voice quivering with anger. “Why is it that every time I look for you, Enoch’s there, lurking like some grim shadow, glowering at me if I so much as breathe in your direction?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Enoch snapped. “I glower at everyone.”

Emma shoved her chair back abruptly, eyes flicking to Miss Peregrine. “Do you hear this? He’s impossible!”

Miss Peregrine’s eyes narrowed. “Emma, calm yourself. Let’s discuss this civilly—”

“I’m done being civil!” Emma erupted, standing. Sparks flew from her clenched fists. “He keeps M/N away from me, taunts me—”

“Well, perhaps if you weren’t so obsessed,” Enoch snapped back coldly, “you’d see that M/N doesn’t want that kind of attention from you!”

Emma’s jaw dropped, fury tightening her features. “Obsessed? How dare you—” She trembled, small flames crackling along her fingertips. “Why can’t you just say it?” Her gaze swept from Enoch to you and back. “Why can’t you just tell everyone the truth about you two?”

Your stomach plummeted; she was forcing you into the corner you and Enoch had tried so hard to avoid. “Emma,” Miss Peregrine warned again, voice dangerously low. “Drop it.”

Emma turned her ire on Miss Peregrine. “I will not. Why should I have to hide whatever this is?” Her eyes flicked to yours, something close to heartbreak twisting her features. “Why him?” she whispered bitterly. “What’s so special about Enoch?” Then she turned to Enoch. “You don’t deserve him,” she hissed, each word sharp as glass. “If he was with me, I’d ensure his happiness, not drag him into your bleak little world of scowls and pickled hearts.”

Enoch bristled. You felt anger roll off him in waves as he rose from his chair, palms slamming flat on the table. “My ‘bleak little world,’ as you call it, is far better than the whining and fire-hazard tantrums you throw every time you don’t get your way.” With a furious growl, Emma slammed her hand down, flames licking the edge of the tablecloth. Bronwyn gasped and lunged forward to pat it out. Miss Peregrine shot to her feet, but both Emma and Enoch were too caught up in their confrontation to notice.

“All I see is a bitter, lonely boy clinging to the first bit of affection he’s ever had,” Emma spat, eyes blazing. “An unlovable—”

“Enough!” Miss Peregrine’s sharp cry rang out, cutting the air like a whip. The sudden quiet was deafening. Emma’s flames sputtered, Enoch froze, and every other child in the room went rigid in their chairs. Miss Peregrine placed her napkin on the table with a deliberate calm that spoke volumes of her anger. Her eyes, usually kind and watchful, were now cold as steel as she addressed Emma first.

“Ms. Bloom,” she said sternly, “I have given you ample opportunity to discuss your concerns rationally. Instead, you’ve allowed jealousy to consume you and endangered our home by letting your emotions run wild. You will go to your room immediately and remain there until I summon you. You will use that time to reflect on your behavior. Am I understood?”

Emma stared, mouth slightly agape. Sparks still crackled at her fingertips, but they started to die down. For a moment, it looked like she might argue further, but Miss Peregrine’s glare was uncompromising. “…Fine,” Emma muttered at last, voice trembling with residual anger and humiliation. She tore her gaze away, marched out of the dining room, and disappeared up the stairs without another word.

The silence that followed was thick and suffocating. You could feel Enoch shaking beside you; he was doing his best to keep himself in check. Bronwyn looked worried, Horace fidgeted anxiously, and Olive hovered a little higher in her seat, unsettled by the tension.

At length, Miss Peregrine exhaled a measured breath. “The rest of you may clear your plates and retire. I will speak to Enoch and M/N privately.” A murmur rippled through the children; curiosity and concern danced in their eyes, but they obeyed. The scrape of chairs and clink of dishes soon faded away, leaving you, Enoch, and Miss Peregrine in the quiet dining room.

She beckoned you both to stand. Her expression remained firm as she regarded you, then Enoch. “I am not blind to the deeper nature of your connection,” she began carefully, “I had hoped you two would come to me on your own time. However, given the events tonight, it seems I must step in.” Your heart hammered. You felt Enoch’s hand slip into yours, his grip tight but reassuring. There was a moment’s hesitation before Miss Peregrine’s features softened—just a fraction.

“We are a family here, and I care for each one of you deeply.” Her tone was resolute, but gentler now. “If you and Enoch have found something special in each other, then it is your right to hold onto it. No one—certainly not Emma—has the authority to deny you happiness. Do you understand?”

Your throat felt thick with emotion. “Y-Yes, Miss Peregrine,” you managed. Enoch nodded, murmuring his agreement.

“I will not tolerate hostility or this level of disrespect again,” Miss Peregrine continued, brow creasing. “Enoch, you must learn to manage your temper; cruelty only begets more cruelty. M/N, you should feel safe to speak up if anyone makes you uncomfortable." After a moment of silence, Miss Peregrine hugged both of her wards gingerly. "Now go on," she said, pulling back with a small smile, gesturing to the door. “The both of you are excused."

She paused then, her stern expression warming ever so slightly. “You belong here, both of you. Don’t ever doubt that.” Those final words pulsed through you like a gentle reassurance. Miss Peregrine was giving you the acceptance you’d feared might be withheld. With a small, grateful bow of your head, you and Enoch slipped out of the dining room.