#not meant to be hateful just came to me in a dream | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hausofwoo · 5 months ago

Text

open wide | park seonghwa

pairing: park seonghwa x afab!reader

word count: 5.7K

summary: you start working at a restaurant and everything seems to be going well; you work hard, you made friends, and even when you mess up, your coworkers still have your back… except for the bartender, seonghwa.

warnings: 18+, minors do not interact, restaurant!au, bartender! and dom!seonghwa, enemies to lovers trope, HATE FUCK, oral (f and m receiving), pussy slapping, dick slapping, choking, hair pulling, edging, fingering, creampie, alcohol consumption, sex under the influence of alcohol (but both consenting), unprotected piv (WRAP IT UP BE SAFE), cumplay, dacryphilia, seonghwa is an asshole and reader is strangely attracted to it, degrading, reader gives switch vibes, VERY descriptive smut scene [i have no shame], seonghwa is HUNG, use of pet names (princess, baby, good girl, little/dirty slut), woosan allegations LMAO, lmk if i missed anything! also feat. server/work bestie!ryujin, server!wooyoung and san, food runner!mingi, and restaurant manager!hongjoong.

author’s note: me n my friend were talking about seonghwa and the thought of him *ahem* slapping his dick on ur face .. and it sent us into a spiral. i had to make dreams come true. thank u to @hausofmingi and T for being my beta-readers and for giving amazing feedback and ideas :-) this one goes out to all the restaurant girlies!

seonghwa was pissing you the fuck off.

working at a restaurant is already hard enough, but to have an enemy that you work with? it’s unbearable.

you were new to the industry when you started at the restaurant, and of course you got treated like you were stupid for the first few months. you almost expected it, since you had friends who worked at restaurants and they warned you that people will walk all over you for being “green.” you learned as fast as you could, making mistakes here and there. but eventually you felt as if you proved everyone there wrong; that you are a good server and you are hard working, despite your mistakes. you built a rapport with your coworkers, and they granted you grace when you needed it. everyone, except for him.

the bartender. god that fucking bartender. your manager hongjoong introduced you on your first day, and ever since you’ve been butting heads.

“this is seonghwa, our bartender,” hongjoong says, pointing out the black-haired man setting up the bar. “he’s been here since we opened, but he’s been in the industry for even longer.”

“oh, wow,” you exclaim, watching him splay out the non-slip mats around the bar.

“yeah, wow,” hongjoong laughs. “this guy can pour exactly an ounce of liquor without even looking. and he’s fast. you’ll learn a lot from him.”

the corner of seonghwa’s mouth quirks up in almost a smug way. he’s good and he knows it. with his legendary status came his cockiness.

“well i gotta grab some paperwork for you to finish up,” hongjoong says as heads to the back. “i’ll be back out in a sec.”

you stand by the bar, basically twiddling your thumbs. “it’s nice to meet you, i’m–"

“look, princess,” seonghwa interrupts. “as much as i love introducing myself to yet another newbie, i have more important things to do right now.”

and that was just the beginning, and not just for your newfound nickname.

the best way to sum up how he continues to treat you is from this one specific experience. you rang up drinks for your table, and you meant to put a vodka soda instead of a tequila soda. you noticed it right away so you immediately cancelled that order and rung it up correctly. you promptly went to the bar to tell seonghwa.

“hey, ignore that first ticket for the tequila soda, i sent a new ticket,” you called out. but when seonghwa turned, he had the drink already in his hand, looking like he was about to set it on the drink pass.

“oh.”

he grabbed the new ticket with his other hand, glanced at it briefly, looked at you, and then slammed the ticket onto the ticket spindle. he turned around and dumped the drink in the sink and started making the new drink.

“hey i’m sorry, it was a mistake,” you defended.

“yeah yeah, it’s fine, princess,” he said with an eye roll. he placed the new drink on the pass. you inspect his face, wondering if it really was fine. he scoffs and pushes the drink forward more. “just take your drink and go, it’s way too fucking busy to be standing around talking.”

maybe it wasn’t a big deal. maybe he was just in the weeds and was taking it out on you. that’s the thing about restaurants, when you’re in the middle of service and everyone’s running around, you kinda end up saying shit you don’t mean. it was never anything personal. you knew that because at the end of service, you’d finish up closing with your coworkers and have a shift beer, laughing it off like it didn’t happen. because it didn’t matter in the end, it was just a restaurant.

but seonghwa never joined. even tonight, when you, the other servers, and even the manager were sat around the bar having your drinks, he just quietly broke down the bar.

“hey seonghwa,” hongjoong calls after him. “don’t worry about the bar, i’ll take care of the rest of it. you guys had a really hard night. have your shift beer and chill.”

“no no, i’ve got it. i’m just gonna finish up and get out of here.” you watch him as he lifts up the floor mats and starts mopping the sticky floor. you turn to your coworker, ryujin, who’s sipping at her PBR.

“i think seonghwa hates me,” you say, just low enough under your other coworkers chatting.

“what?” she laughs. “no no, i don’t think so. he’s just kind of an asshole.”

you glance over at him as he’s wiping down the back counters. you turn back to her.

“i don’t know, he’s just always been kinda short with me.” you look down at your drink and fiddle with the tab. “i feel like he doesn’t really like me. i don’t know what i did.”

“listen,” ryujin starts, placing a hand on your shoulder. “he’s short with everyone. shit, i’ve been here like 2 years and i still know nothing about him. don’t worry about it. he’s just here for a check like everyone else.”

you watch as seonghwa starts to walk back to the kitchen, lifting his sweatshirt off of his form, and a sliver of skin peeks at the small of his back just below his t-shirt. you can’t look away until he’s out of your line of sight, and ryujin starts giggling next to you.

“wait a minute, do you like him or something?” ryujin whispers.

“no no!” you say. “it’s just—i feel like it’s easy for me to talk to everyone here. with him, he just brushes me off. and he started that stupid nickname. ‘princess’. it feels condescending.”

“well i don’t know,” ryujin shrugs. “i don’t think he likes to mix business with pleasure anyway, in any form.”

you nod and look to see seonghwa back at the register, counting the cash and pulling out tips. he walks over and hands each server their share of drink tips, leaving you last. you look up at him, but he doesn’t even look at you. he just places the money on the bar, and quickly turns to go back to the kitchen.

“okay,” you sigh. “well i’m gonna get out of here, i gotta get some sleep. are we still on for sunday celebration?”

“um yeah dude. i’m gonna need it after we deal with the sunday service crowd.” ryujin grabs her bag and starts heading to the door with you.

“sunday celebration.” it’s kind of like a fucked-up weekly tradition your restaurant has. the weekend drives all of the staff mad and then after service sunday night, (since the restaurant is closed on mondays) pretty much everyone working grabs a shift drink and books it to the dive bar a couple streets over. is it healthy? absolutely not. but is it kinda weirdly cathartic? absolutely it is.

and you really really needed it after sundays service. you got stuck with a 15-top who had all sorts of allergies and dietary restrictions. like who the hell has a lettuce allergy? are they just making it up because they just don’t like lettuce? and why the hell are you trying to order a house salad when the main ingredient is literally lettuce? plus their drink orders were nuts. a tequila on the rocks? JUST tequila? and what’s worse is that the guy ordered like 4 of them. you just finished ringing in his 5th one.

you walk up to the bar to grab the drink (because damn seonghwa is fast) and look up to see him turning to you.

“hey, you gotta cut that guy off after that drink,” he says while shaking a cocktail in a shaker.

“yeah, that’s probably a good idea,” you laugh dryly.

“you shouldn’t have even rang this one,” he says, setting the shaker down. “you know there’s a 4 drink max, right? that’s like, a policy we have.”

“oh, i didn’t know that i guess.” you stab the ticket on the spindle.

“yeah i guess not,” he says with a sharpness in his voice, and starts pouring the drink in the cocktail glass. “just don’t do it again, princess.”

yeah, maybe you didn’t know that rule. but why does he have to talk to you like that? you start walking towards your 15-top, past the kitchen. you must’ve been really in your head about what seonghwa said because you completely missed someone yelling “corner.”

what happened felt like hours long, but it was probably only a few seconds. the food runner mingi was walking out of the kitchen with 3 plates of food. when you were passing by the kitchen entrance, it was too quick to move, and down fell all 3 plates. it was a mess.

“oh my god mingi, i’m so sorry!” you exclaim. you immediately grab a broom and attempt to sweep what you can.

“don’t apologize to me, apologize to seonghwa,” mingi says meekly, picking up the pieces of broken plate. “it was going to his 2-top at the bar.”

fuck. you don’t even want to look at him. you know he’s pissed. you finish cleaning the last bit of your mess while mingi goes back and asks for a refire on those dishes. as soon as you throw out the trash, you feel tears start to well up in your eyes. you can’t cry in the front of house, it’s unprofessional. but you can’t cry in the kitchen, unless you want the whole back of house to pester you with questions. the only solution was one place, every server’s safe haven: the walk in freezer.

you close the frosty door behind you, letting out a deep sigh that turns quickly into a billowing cloud. then, the waterworks. you couldn’t even help it, it all became too much. maybe it was out of frustration or stress, either way, you really needed this cry. tears stream down your face, turning cold on your cheeks from the freezing air.

it was mostly frustrating because the whole reason this happened was because of seonghwa. he snapped at you for not knowing some stupid rule, and it caused you to lose focus. it’s his fault.

just when you felt yourself calming down, the freezer door opens swiftly. it was him.

“you wanna tell me why my table’s food was refired?” seonghwa spits, anger in his eyes. “they’re gonna have to wait another 10 minutes and they’ve already been waiting for their food for 20.”

“seonghwa, please,” you huff, trying to hold it together. “can i just have one more second?”

“no! i could be totally out of a tip from a table because of you.”

“dude, it was a mistake!” you defend. you feel backed into a corner. literally, the walk-in was tiny and you were basically pressed up against the cold wall with seonghwa hovering over you.

“you keep making these stupid mistakes. i don’t know why they even hired you, you know fucking nothing about restaurants.”

you stood in shock. you didn’t know what to say. seonghwa had this fire behind his eyes that almost scared you. his chest was puffing up and down, breathing heavily from adrenaline. a bead of sweat falls down his temple, threatening to fall from his face. why did suddenly… he look so… attractive? you were so confused by how your body was reacting. instead of pure hatred, suddenly you felt a pang of lust. what the hell was happening to you?

“you owe me, princess,” seonghwa mumbles.

and in a blink of an eye, he withdraws from the walk-in and slams the door behind him, leaving you completely disoriented.

at the end of service, you were BEAT. you slump back into the bar seat, crack open your shift drink, and take a hefty gulp. ryujin jumps into the seat next to you, already drinking her usual PBR.

“dude, tonight SUCKED,” she groans.

“tell me about it,” you mutter, counting your cash tips. “at least they tipped well, but at what cost?”

“the cost of my fucking sanity, that’s what,” ryujin whines. “please tell me you’re still down for celebration. please please pleeeease?”

“oh i am so down,” you say. you look at your other coworkers. “san, woo? you coming?”

“you bet i am,” wooyoung chuckles, gathering up his stuff. “i’m heading there now. c’mon san.”

san stands and starts heading out the door with wooyoung but then turns back. “wait, seonghwa, are you finally gonna come to sunday celebration?”

seonghwa places down the wine glass he was polishing. “maybe. we’ll see.” he turns to hang up the glass on the rack and for a moment, just a moment, he makes eye contact with you. you look away immediately and decide to put your attention back on your beer. you chug what’s left of it and toss the can in the trash.

“ryujin, let’s go."

you and your fellow servers took the booth in the back of the bar, your usual spot. a couple of them were complaining about the tables they had, some were playing an intense game of darts, while you nursed your mixed drink as ryujin rants about her situationship.

wooyoung slips into the seat next to you, grabbing his beer on the table. “remind me to never play darts with san again. he’s way too competitive.”

you laugh, “you know, you say that, but you always end up playing with him every sunday.”

wooyoung chuckles as he shrugs. he then looks around the bar. “wait, didn’t seonghwa say he was coming?”

“he said he MIGHT come,” san says as he slides into the booth. you can feel yourself retreating as soon as his name was brought up. “but you know him. he never hangs out with anyone outside work.”

“he’s probably still scrubbing the bar,” the food runner mingi chimes in. “that dude is a clean freak.”

“nothing wrong with that at a restaurant!” san says.

“hey i’m gonna grab another drink,” you mumble, standing up. “i’ll be right back.”

you walk over and lean against the bar and wait patiently for the bartender to get to you. you look around, sort of people-watching the sunday crowd. it’s all industry people, you know it. you turn your head back to see the bartender facing you.

“what can i get you?”

“oh, i’ll just take a vodka cran,” you force a smile. he nods and turns to make your drink.

“a vodka cranberry?” you hear a chuckle next to you. “i thought your go-to would be different.”

you look over and see seonghwa leaning on the bar and looking over at you. he wasn’t wearing his work clothes like you’re used to seeing him in. he was wearing jeans and a black tank with a leather jacket. he looked different. he looked…. really good.

“oh, you made it,” you say, trying not to sound annoyed. you gather yourself a bit. “oh, don’t judge me for my drink choice, okay? as much as i love our free shift drinks, i don’t really drink beer outside of work.”

“ah, i see.” he nods, definitely uninterested, and looks at the bartender who had already set your drink down and was waiting for you to pay. you dig through your bag, struggling to find your wallet. seonghwa notices and sighs. “i’ll just get this one and i’ll get a jack and coke.”

“you didn’t have to do that,” you look up to him in confusion.

“it’s whatever, just take your drink,” he doesn’t even look at you as the bartender hands his drink over and grabs seonghwa’s card that he set on the bar.

“oh. well thank you.” you sip at your drink. “i’m going back to the booth.”

he grabs his jack and coke and takes a quick drink. “darts?”

“um, okay?” you stutter, watching him walk past you to the dart board in the corner, and then following him with a look on your face that could only be described as complete and utter confusion.

“san, woo, wanna play teams?” you call across to your coworkers. they perk up and immediately jump over to the dartboard.

“me and san versus you and seonghwa?” woo asks, rubbing his palms together with a chuckle. “let’s say loser buys drinks?”

“i’m not really good at this,” you say laughing. “but i’ll do my best.”

“oh, great,” seonghwa scoffs as he writes both of your initials in the chalkboard by the dartboard. “just show me what you got.” he grabs the darts and places them in your hand, touch lingering a little longer than needed.

“you know,” you say to seonghwa as you close out 18 on the chalkboard, then passing the darts to san. “i really wasn’t expecting you to come out tonight.”

“we’ve begging him for what seems like years, man,” san chimes in, attempting but eventually failing to hit bullseye. yet somehow team woosan is still beating you. he grabs the darts to hand to seonghwa.

“yeah, what changed?” wooyoung says as he leans against a chair.

“i wasn’t really expecting to come out either,” seonghwa admits. “i guess i wanted to see what sunday celebration was all about.” he closes out 17 and 19. why is he so good at everything?

“i mean it’s just all of us getting drunk to get over a shitty shift,” you watch as he tosses the darts to wooyoung for his turn. “so it’s really not much.”

“did you have a shitty shift?” he asks, turning to face you directly.

“w-well, yeah,” you mumble, uncomfortable by the attentiveness. woo quickly hands the darts to you and goes back to a conversation he’s having with san. you look down at the darts in your hands. “look, i know i made a mistake but i really didn’t know that rule about the drinks. and it got me in my head and then mingi came with your table’s food and—“

he rolls his eyes. “you just make a lot of rookie mistakes. you’ll learn.”

you completely abandon the game of darts at this point. “dude, you gotta stop talking to me like that.”

“like what?” he says with a smirk. does he think this is funny?

“like you think i’m stupid or something,” you say, slightly pushing his shoulder. “i’m not stupid. yeah, you’ve been in the industry way longer than me, but we all have to start somewhere.” you grab your bag and walk over to the booth, san and woo protesting behind you. you slouch next to ryujin with a sigh.

“what the hell just happened?” ryujin questions, looking back at seonghwa by the dartboard.

“seonghwa’s being a dick to me, once again.” you exhale deeply. “let’s get another drink.”

as the night went on, your coworkers start filing out one by one. san and wooyoung were one of the last to leave together (something going on there?) and you’re left in front of the bar, struggling to find an uber. your apartment is definitely walking distance, but not at this time of night. the real issue was getting a fucking ride. every uber was at least 20 minutes away. you looked back through the bar window and saw the bartender starting to close up. shit, it’s almost 1 am. you look back down to your phone and consider downloading lyft for maybe the 2nd time in your life.

“what are you still doing here?” you hear a voice behind you. you look back and it’s seonghwa, pulling his keys out of his pocket.

“i should be asking you the same thing,” you mutter. when will he leave you alone?

“can’t find an uber?” he questions, pointing down at your phone.

“yeah, its fine though,” you brush him off.

“you live close by right?” he asks, annoyance in his voice. “i’ll just drop you off.”

“no, really,” you huff. “i don’t need your help.”

“look princess,” he looks to you intently. “i’m not gonna let you wait outside a bar at this hour. i’m not that big of an asshole.”

you consider for a moment. he’s definitely right. it’s late, and staying outside a closed bar this late can lead to trouble.

“fine. but stop calling me princess.”

when he pulls up to your apartment building, you start to have an internal war with yourself. you can’t help but have this anger in the pit of your stomach that’s eating you up.

“you look deep in thought,” seonghwa says impatiently.

“yeah, uh,” you mumble. “i just.. i need to know, why do you hate me?”

seonghwa pulls the car in a spot and parks. “i don’t hate you, necessarily…” he starts.

“you just think you’re better than me?” you pry, irritated.

“i mean, i have been in the industry longer than you…” he smiles smugly.

“there you go again,” you throw your hands up, hatred scratching at your throat. “you are so belittling to me! you think you’re hot shit, huh?”

“do you think i am?” he smiles at the corner of his mouth, and lets out a dry chuckle.

“i think i can’t fucking stand you.”

he looks intently at your face, and you swear, he glances at your lips.

and that’s when he leans in and kisses you. it takes you by complete surprise, and you pull back. you look at each other with a newfound yet curious lust. for a beat, for just a moment, you both look at each other with the same understanding. you want to kiss him again. you grab his face and pull him back in. the kiss was all-consuming. you feel a wave of energy course through you, as if every neuron in you was lit up. it was almost dizzying. he holds the side of your face, grazing past your ear and the holding the nape of your neck. every touch felt like fire.

he slides his tongue through your lips and deepens the kiss, which makes you melt more into him. you feel his arm wrap around your waist and moves you closer. you felt a rush of heat run through you, but then seonghwa pulls back slightly.

“let’s go inside?” he asks, his voice low.

with no reply, you both get out and you take him up to your apartment and to your room, closing the door behind you. he stands close to you, pushing you up against the door and kissing you up your neck and jaw until his lips meet yours again. he slots his leg between yours and presses himself against your heat, grinding as he devours you.

you turn to push him against the wall and sank down to your knees.

“fuuuck,” he groans, smiling as he slips his shirt off. “i like this view.”

“shut up, asshole,” you snap as you unzip his jeans, pulling them down. you look up to see a bulge pressing through his black underwear. god, you can tell it’s fucking big. you graze your fingers over it, teasing him. he lets out a heavy sigh, and you feel him twitch under you.

“i need you to touch me now,” he says grabbing the back of your head.

“yeah? or what?” you tease, just barely holding the length of him.

“c’mon princess,” he says with a cocky smirk. that fucking nickname. he moves his underwear down to reveal his hard cock hanging heavy by your lips. your mouth opens as you stare up at his length. he’s really big. “oh baby, are you already cock-drunk before even touching it?”

you sat in shock at the sheer size of him. he grabs your chin and moves himself closer to your face.

“open,” he says, tapping his dick on your lips. you open up to take him in your mouth, with him groaning at the warm, wet feeling.

twirling your tongue around his length, you earn a pleased moan from seonghwa’s lips. you take as much of him as you can in your mouth, nearly gagging but pushing through. you can feel him twitching in the back of your throat, which makes you hum with satisfaction.

“yeah,” he hisses, pulling his length out a bit and slowly thrusting back into your mouth. “take my cock just like that, baby.”

he pushes into your throat and pulls out again, this time out completely. a string of saliva still connects between his dick and your lips. he grabs himself and slaps it on your face by your open mouth, your jaw going slack and your tongue out to taste him.

“ahh, such a good girl,” he smirks down at you, slapping his dick on your face again. he grabs a fistful of your hair and pushes your mouth back on his cock.

you grab the base and start sucking like your life depends on it, going from the base to the tip, where you swirl your tongue around him. you regain a little control back, stroking and twisting up his length and sucking at his tip, and you can taste the precum pooling into your mouth. you feel him thrusting into your throat, tugging at your hair and pushing you deeper onto him. you can’t help but let out a whimper at the feeling.

“fuuuck, you like that, you little slut?” he tugs you off his cock by your hair. “you like when i fuck your mouth? keep doing that for me.”

you lost all control in that moment. you can only do as you’re told. you open your mouth like a good girl, and suck. he pistons into you, hitting the back of your throat over and over. tears prick the corners of your eyes, but you don’t care. you only want to please him. you moan onto his cock, forcing yourself to not gag from his size. the vibrations in your throat only drive him more mad, and you can tell from his deep moans and the hardening of his cock. he’s definitely close.

the grip around your hair tightens while he continues to bob you up and down his cock. your eyes flutter shut and tears start to fall down your cheeks, and you hold his thighs, nails digging crescents into his skin. he continues to hiss and moan in praise, loving the way you’re sputtering around his cock and leaving spit running down your chin. you take all the power left in you to lap at the underside of his cock, causing him to groan loudly and pull you off of him.

“open wide for me, princess,” he says, stroking himself above you. you obey and lay your tongue flat for him, ready to take his load. he lets out a long moan, spurting all around and into your mouth. you lick up every drop remaining from his tip as he comes down from his high.

just as you regain your composure, he’s helping you take your shirt off and kissing your spit and cum covered mouth. he pushes you backwards until the back of your legs hit the edge of the bed. you fall back and let him slide your pants off, leaving you just in your bra and (fucking soaked) underwear. he falls to his knees as he goes down to kiss your inner thighs, inching closer and closer to your wet heat. when he goes to lick the wet spot in your underwear, licking a stripe up to your clit, you let out a small gasp.

“so sensitive,” he grins, lifting his head up and moving to take off your underwear. he grabs your thighs and pushes your legs back so your pussy is in full view for him.

“and so fucking wet for me…” he trails off before he dives down to devour you.

he laps at your wet hole, savoring the taste and the way it contracts around nothing. his tongue leads up to your clit, earning a sharp moan from you. liking the way you sound, he does the same pattern, making you whine with pleasure. he looks up to you, a moaning mess, and flicks at your bud teasingly, as if he’s mocking you. he hums in amusement.

“hold this,” he releases your leg for you to grab, keeping you spread open for him. he places his fingers on your clit, circling a bit before dipping down to your hole, just at the surface. you can’t help but clench. “so eager.”

he plunges his middle two fingers into you, your tightness gripping around him. he lowers his mouth back to your clit, swirling around as he begins finger fucking you. he’s eating you like he’s fucking starved. the stimulation had you gripping the sheets, whimpering.

he hums against your pussy, kissing and sucking at your clit. “mmm, fuck,” he smiles with a moan. “so good…”

you can’t help but grab the back of his head, gripping onto his hair while he works his fingers and mouth on you. he twirls his tongue around your clit all while curling his fingers in you, hitting that sweet spot.

“s-seonghwa,” you let out. “don’t stop, it feels so fucking good.”

out of defiance, he pulls off of you completely, your legs dropping down and making you ache from the loss of being filled. you can’t help but buck your hips up, desperate for him to touch you. he runs his hand back onto your pussy, spreading his fingers around your bud, avoiding touching it. and then, he slaps your wet cunt. you wince, partly from pain, but also from the stimulation. your bundle of nerves prickles and reddens the wet skin.

“mmm, dirty slut,” he laughs dryly, sadistically. “so desperate to cum. you want to cum for me?”

you nod, a little too impatiently.

“tell me.” he circles his fingers around your dripping hole again.

“fuck,” you let out, exasperated. “please, seonghwa. please let me cum.”

with a smirk, he drives his fingers back into you and latches onto your clit, working at a steady but meticulous pace. when your hips start grinding against his mouth, he holds you down, and continues working you. he swirls his tongue around your clit just right, and massages at your sweet spot. you feel your orgasm building in your stomach, like a cord about to snap. you feel heat rush through your entire body like a wave.

“i’m cumming,” you barely moan out, completely overtaken by pleasure. seonghwa relentlessly works you through it, moaning against you as you climax. he laps at your clit, trying to get every drop of your orgasm. he doesn’t stop until you have to grab his head and lift it.

he looks up at you with an intense lust in his eyes, and his mouth and chin soaked from your juices.

“you drive me fucking crazy,” you sigh as you watch him stand up and lean over you. he pushes you back to the head of the bed, on his knees and slotting between your thighs.

eating you out must have really turned him on, because his cock is hanging heavy between you, red and leaking with precum. he guides his dick up and down your sensitive cunt, gathering your wetness up to stimulate your clit. he groans looking down at the sight.

he eases his way into you, gripping your thighs to keep from snapping his hips into you. your mouth goes slack at the sensation, and you try to stifle back a moan. he inches his way into you, thrusting slowly until he bottoms out.

“fuck, princess,” he sighs, and he feels you clench around his length.

he leans forward to hover over you, slowly thrusting into your heat. he grabs the nape of your neck and kisses you deeply, letting you moan in his mouth. each thrust he pounds into you makes you melt into each other more, desperate to feel every inch of one another. the rolls of his hips hitting deep caverns of your cunt makes you dizzy from stimulation. the squelching sound of your wet pussy makes him pull away, now grabbing at your throat hard enough to where it hurts a little, but hurts so good.

“tell me you’re my little slut,” he spits at you, thrusting deeper inside of you.

“i-i’m your little slut,” you say between moans, completely lost in his trance. he has all the power over you.

he releases your neck and lifts one of your legs over his shoulder, making him reach a completely new angle inside of you. he pistons into you with determination, and reaches down to toy with your clit. you begin to see stars.

“you’re so fucking tight,” he hisses, relishing the squeezing of your core.

his hips snap into a faster pace, all while mercilessly thumbing at your clit. the stimulation becomes all too much for you, and you feel yourself reaching another high.

“oh my god don’t stop, please seonghwa don’t stop,” you moan, unintentionally clenching around his length.

“yeah baby, cum on my cock,” he smiles down at you. “just like that.”

you can’t even think, all you can grasp is how good this man feels on top of you, how good he feels in you, how full you feel. your breath hitches as a wave of pleasure courses through your body, sending you into a blissed out state. your moans are matched by seonghwa, him fucking your contracting cunt, as if it’s begging to milk him dry. he continues to thrust into your overstimulated core until he releases his hot ropes of cum into you, completely filling you up.

he finally slows down his movement, both your breathing heavy and irregular. he pulls out of you with a hiss, watching your pulsing core as his release slowly spills out of you.

“jesus christ,” he groans at the sight. as if he couldn’t resist, he brings his head down and licks up your core, swallowing the liquid. once every drop is savored, he lifts up to level with you. he then places a kiss on your lips, suddenly soft, and very unexpected.

without a word, he grabs you by the waist and holds you close, allowing you to rest your head on his chest. he softly brushes his fingers through your hair.

and just like that, you both drift off to sleep with only one thing on your mind. what just happened, and what the hell is going to happen next?

a/n: this is my first real fic on the internet yall!! im so new to this but i had so much fun. i hope u did too! stay tuned for part 2, but for now please leave feedback ♥ edit: part two is here :-)

#park seonghwa #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez smut #seonghwa smut #seonghwa fic #ateez fic #seonghwa x reader #ateez one shot #dom!seonghwa

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dollfacefantasy · 3 months ago

Text

dig your claws right into me ♡

logan howlett x fem!reader

logan hurts you when he has a nightmare. now you both have to deal with the fallout.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, descriptions of nightmare, injury, and blood

a/n: reader is a mutant but i didn't specify her powers so you can imagine what you want. just some sickly sweet intimacy cause that's what i was feeling tonight <3

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

The words come out whispered as Logan's lips press against the three tiny bumps of developing scar tissue on your abdomen.

"I already told you that you don't have to be sorry," you say. Your voice drifts into the space between the two of you as soft as the movements of your fingers running through his hair.

"Well I am, bub. You should want me to be."

Each one of his hands rests upon either side of your waist. His fingers squish against your flesh while his eyes stare at the scars on your belly. He gazes at them like the small marks, all equidistant from one another, could be willed away by his harsh look. He hated the fact that they were there at all. Even worse, that he was the one who gave them to you.

"But it was an accident," you respond, giving one of the tufts of his hair a gentle tug.

His dark pupils flit up to look at your face. "Doesn't matter. It being an accident doesn't change the fact that you're gonna have these marks forever. I wouldn't care that it was accidental if I'd killed you."

He remembers the night it happened that seemed like a real possibility.

His light sleep had been interrupted by a nightmare. Over the time that had passed between then and now, it'd become indistinct from all the others he experiences regularly. The only difference between that one and the ones he'd had since he'd started sleeping next to you each night was the intensity. That night had been rough. Normally when he slept in your room, he seemed to be able to tone it down. Almost as if his brain knew to not act up while your relationship was still starting to blossom.

But two weeks ago, his mind didn't care. It flash-banged him with the usual images of himself in that tank. The searing, splitting pain of the adamantium attaching itself to his bones.

Usually, if he had a nightmare beside you, he'd grunt and twitch, maybe shift around a little. That night though, you got to see the whole performance. The tossing and turning, sweating and moaning, tense limbs and scrunched up face.

Poor, sweet, innocent you thought that you could just wake him up. Your hands nudged at his bicep and shoulder as you gently cooed "Logan. It's just a dream."

In the end, your tenderness didn't matter. When he actually came to, your anguished cry was all that registered. And then he felt the sharp heat between his knuckles that meant the claws were out. His heart dropped and his vision nearly blacked out. He couldn't have.

He retracted them as quickly as they'd appeared and pulled back to look at you. Crimson flooded the gray t-shirt you'd worn to bed. The three little spots spread into large blooms of scarlet. Your hands flew to the spot to clutch at it, but they did nothing to stop the warm liquid from spilling out.

"No, no, no, fuck," he'd whispered frantically as his mind raced for a solution.

Your cries morphed into whimpers. Soft and vulnerable. Like a prey animal that'd been fatally wounded but not put out of its misery. Blood seeped out onto your bedding, and it was then that he rocketed off the mattress and scooped you up into his arms.

Fortunately, Scott, Jean, and Storm were already outside the door in the hall, having heard the scream. A gathering of students lingered behind them as well. Shame coursed through his veins, albeit dulled by the panic. He remembered thinking it was stupid, but after the adrenaline left his system, it was the dominant emotion he was left with. Ashamed was the only word that could describe holding the knowledge that everyone here now saw he was capable of hurting the woman he loves. Maybe he was no better than an animal.

In truth, shame was all he felt now. So much relief settled over him since you'd made it out alive. Thanks to the enhanced physical capabilities from your mutation and Jean's adequate medical skills, these scars would be the only lasting effect of the wounds.

He'd rushed you down to the infirmary faster than he'd ever moved in a non-combat situation. His feet thundered down the stairs, a part of him withering to ash with each little whimper you let out as the motion jostled your body around.

"I'm sorry, bub. Almost there. We're almost there. You're gonna be ok," he'd mumbled out thoughtlessly, saying anything he could that would bring you even a shred of comfort.

He kept your hand in his the entire time you were down there on the cold examination table. His grip stayed firm. He wouldn't let the anxiety over your well being consume him. This was his fault, and now you needed him. He didn't get to be worried or upset or anything that wasn't in support of you.

When you howled in pain, he winced as if he was the one being treated. You cried for him, choking out "Logan" through tears over and over. It tore him apart inside. All he could do to soothe you was stroke your cheek and murmur reassurances in your ear.

"Shh, shh, shh. You're doing so good, baby. My strong girl. Being so brave."

He usually reserved affection for private moments, but in those painful seconds, it felt like you two were the only ones in the room.

These thoughts running through his head display across his face. The way his cheek squishes against your tummy and his eyes vacantly stare at the wall opposite his bed. You told him the next day that everything transformed into a blur in your mind. You remembered the feeling of being stabbed and the sight of him panicking, but beyond that nothing specific stayed. You knew he held you and talked to you even though you couldn't recall an individual thing he said or did.

That was fine with him. He listened to you tell the story from your perspective. You spoke with your normal cadence, the usual happy glow in your eyes, and the same animated gestures coming from your hands. His eyes lingered on your torso though. The bandages peeking out from underneath your clean camisole he'd changed you into.

Every last detail of the incident was etched into the deepest part of his psyche. Most likely stored away as material for future nightmares. As much as he hated it, he figured that's the way it should be. He didn't deserve the peace that comes with forgetting.

For the first week after it'd happened, he wouldn't sleep with you. He'd stay with you, cuddled against your body, until you drifted off. Then he'd get up and skulk back to his own room, leaving you cold and alone on your bed.

Eventually after a few more days, you got him to try it out again, but he'd only do it in his own room. It was hard for him to be in yours. New sheets covered your foamy mattress now since the blood wouldn't wash out of the old set. Each brush of the novel material against his skin was just a rose-printed reminder of what he'd done to you.

He's snapped out of his recollection when your voice returns to the original conversation.

"None of that stuff happened though. You didn't kill me, and you're not going to. I'll be more careful next time," you break the silence with a gentle reassurance.

Next time. That's what hurts the worst. You knew this would happen again. You'd promised that when it did you wouldn't try to wake him. Wouldn't touch him or do anything that could set him off. Just give him his space and let him work through it.

"I don't even want you worrying about being careful when you're trying to sleep," he grumbles.

Your nails scrape over his scalp, making his eyes flutter. A deep sigh leaves him. As much as he hated himself for all of this, he could never help easing up under your touch.

"You're worth it."

Three words you said so often. He never believed them, but that didn't stop you from repeating them like a slogan. Instead of arguing with you over the validity of the statement, he stays silent. Replaces any verbal response with a physical one by nuzzling into the warmth of your stomach and laying kisses around your navel.

You watch the affectionate gesture and trail your fingers down to the nape of his neck, massaging the tender skin there.

"You are," you whisper, "One mistake doesn't define you. Doesn't change how I see you."

"It's not just a simple mistake-" he starts.

"Yes it is," you interject, trying to nip his self doubt in the bud.

"It's not. It's not like I forgot your birthday or left my wallet behind when taking you out."

"It's still an accident. The severity doesn't change the intention. Would you hate me if my powers acted up and hurt you?"

God, you could be just as stubborn as him. It grated on his already frayed nerves. He shifts to look up at you fully. And some of that building tension dissolves upon seeing the earnest look on your face.

"It's not the same. Anything you did to me, I would heal," he says.

"I'm healing too. I'm just not as fast as you," you respond. You actually smile as if this is some lighthearted matter. Of course you knew it wasn't the same. You presented no danger to him whereas if he'd nicked you an inch to the left, he might be talking to your headstone right now instead of you. That wasn't the point though.

He shakes his head. "It's different, bub. But I'm not even saying you should hate me..."

In truth, he didn't know what he was saying. If he wanted you to hate him or stay away from him, he could be the one to break things off. But he was still right here, arms wrapped around you and head hovering inches away from your body.

"I just think you should be more cautious than you're being," he finishes, "I don't want you to think you have to put up with this."

You frown and pet his hair. "I don't think that."

"I'm not trying to lecture you, baby," he sighs, "I just don't want to hurt you again."

He could certainly flaunt a pair of puppy eyes when he wanted to. The way he was looking up at you now made him seem so sad and wounded. Like a dog who can't control when he bites but gets kicked aside for it all the same.

"You're not going to. We'll be careful. It was an accident," you say, tone almost pleading, "You're still my Logan."

To go along with your words, you pull on one of his arms, beckoning him closer. He complies with your request and scales your body so that the two of you are aligned. You stare up into his eyes and the whirlpools of emotion within them. Your hand lands on his cheek, your thumb stroking back and forth in small swipes.

"I'm not gonna let you pull away cause of this," you whisper, "It wasn't your fault. You don't choose to have those dreams."

You can tell he wants to argue, but he struggles to find the words. Indirectly cutting him off, you guide his head closer to yours. His face slots against the crook of your neck, and yours does the same in his. You nuzzle him there, breathing in the rich, musky scent of him.

"You're not wrong for wanting to be happy. You don't deserve to be alone," you say and kiss below his ear.

The words make him ache from within. His metal bones vibrate with the weight of possibility of that being true while his heartbeat feels as though it stutters between his ribs. He wants to huff and say that he knows, that he doesn't need you psychoanalyzing him, thank you very much. But none of that will come out. So instead he chuckles. He tries to make it sound smooth; although, the awkwardness is apparent in each bit.

He pulls back a little and smirks down at you. "So you think I'm cut out for being gentle? Is that it?"

You know what he's doing. As closed off as he tries to be, you don't need telepathy to sense what he's feeling. You let him play it off with a joke though. If he's joking, he's not drowning in self-pity, which is all you want.

"Mhm, I know you are," you say and nose at his cheek, kissing the spot on it without facial hair, "You may have claws, but you purr like a kitten when I have my hands on you."

His eyes roll when you say that. He leans down and begins to return some of your loving gestures.

"Don't go telling people that. It's only for you," he murmurs.

"Of course, of course," you say with the same subtle playfulness.

Words die out in favor of using your mouths for better things. The kisses are lazy, built more off of love and adoration rather than lust and passion. One of your arms loops over his shoulders to keep him close while your other rubs at his side. The tip of his nose brushes your earlobe as he lowers to kiss down your throat.

His lips meet your pulse point and the divots in your neck that make you shudder when touched. He's familiar with all your secret spots by now. He plays you better than any instrument. His breath fans over your skin as his teeth scrape against the same flesh. His hands work below, squeezing your waist, fingertips leaving little bumps in their wake.

The hand of yours that had been on his side drifts further down and wiggles its way between your two bodies. Your digits stroke his pelvis above the area his cock would soon begin to harden.

A groan reverberates through his chest as his shaft rises to attention. From this angle, the pads of your fingers can reach the tip. You rub on it with light pressure, up and down. That gets him to repeat the groan, only this time the undertone of need is more prominent.

His lips latch onto your neck to work a little mark onto your skin while he pushes the waistband of his sweatpants down his thighs. You were only wearing a cropped t-shirt and panties, already easily accessible.

He nudges your thighs apart further and grinds his bulge over your mound. The heat from both your aching centers grows hotter with the friction. Arching your back off the bed, you whimper softly for further satisfaction. He presses you back down using his larger stature.

"Patience, sweetheart. Being gentle, remember?"

He only teases you with a few more grinds of his hips before his boxers vanish too and his heavy cock rests against the soft fabric of your panties. You feel the familiar thickness at first. Then his fingers swoop down and pull your panties to the side so he can slot the drippy tip against your folds. Precum smears against your slick, velvety skin.

Seconds later he splits you open. He bites his lip while you whine, his fat cock pushing further into your wanting hole. You squeeze around him. Your walls clamp and contract on his length. It doesn't push him out, merely sucks him further in. He chokes out a low moan from how tight you get.

So tight and so wet. Arousal oozes from you in no short supply. It didn't take much to get you going for Logan. A few touches alone had you leaking like a broken faucet. You whimper as he bottoms out, hips jerking as the head taps your cervix. He always gets so deep it's nearly unbearable. Even when he's going slow like he is now, he's all you can think of. He fills you up down there and occupies all the space in your head.

"Feel good, baby?" he asks.

You nod, unable to respond verbally as you adjust to the intrusion.

He doesn't give you a prolonged period of time to adapt right now. Normally he would, but most other times, he'd be going much faster than he plans to at this moment. Typically, he'd let you get comfy with the stretch before drawing his hips back and then pumping them forward again. He'd slam in and out of you. It'd be loud with the sound of skin clapping combined with your moans and his growls. It'd be rough and quick. The bed would shake and bobble around with the force of him.

But tonight, none of that happens. He barely even pulls out to thrust. He stays nice and deep, grinding his hips rather than fucking himself in and out of you. You whine in sweet stretches of sound. He sighs and grunts against your neck. Neither of you sound like feral animals going into heat.

You loved when you fucked like that, but right now, both of you needed this. Each roll of his hips felt like a stroke of heaven brushing your insides. Your limbs curl around him tighter to keep him close. Your arms guard his neck while your legs dig into his hips. He's so lost in the feeling of you, he can't even tell where he ends and you begin.

"Tell me how it feels. Need to hear you. Wanna know I'm doing it how you need," he mumbles.

"Feels perfect," you whimper in return, "So fuckin' deep."

"Good. I only ever wanna make you feel good."

You nod, knowing it's the truth. "Anyone can hurt me, but only you know how to make me feel like this."

His eyes scrunch up at your words. He just feels lucky he has his face buried against your skin so you can't see. It had been just what he needed to hear. Boosting himself onto his knees a bit more to gain some leverage, he grips your hips and ruts against you with the slightest bit more force.

You whine at the soothing rhythm in which your bodies rock. The sense of satisfaction brought on from this took root in the deepest pit of your belly. You weren't gonna explode like you often did. Probably wouldn't scream or scratch up his back. But you could tell you were gonna cum hard.

Without saying it, he communicates he feels the same. His lack of usual dirty talk tells you everything you need to know. His cock stays nestled deep inside your pussy as he works you both to the edge. His face remains flush against your neck.

You cum first, and he follows right behind. You tighten up, toes curling and a high mewl echoing out of your throat. Your body shivers. He spills his release inside of you, his energy leaving with the sticky ropes of cum that fire.

He goes boneless on top of you, still cherishing the feeling of your skin on his. His breaths feel cool against your sweating skin.

"My baby," he sighs. His eyes flutter shut. He knows he has to pull out before he knocks out for a while, but he can do that in a second. He just needs a few more minutes of this.

You press a few kisses to the side of his head and rub his back. His hand slides between both your abdomen to touch the scars, reminding himself what he's capable of despite his current tenderness.

After a few moments, he pulls out and slumps to the side of you. You peck his lips and take the acquisition of space as a way to cool off. His eyes are drooping already. It feels good seeing him so relaxed. You kiss the space between his brows, then the bridge of his knows, and end on his lips.

"Sweet dreams," you whisper, wishing that would be enough to keep the nightmares at bay. At least for tonight.

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett imagine #logan howlett fluff #logan howlett smut #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #wolverine imagine #wolverine smut #x men x reader #marvel x reader #marvel smut

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c0llisiion · 10 months ago

Text

NEED TO KNOW — j.jk

★Pairing: jeon jungkook + f!reader

★genre: smut

★: older!jk, dads bestfriend!jk , oral (giving and receiving ) , unprotected sex , reader has a crush on jk, bachelor!jk, big dick jk, size kink kinda, hair pulling, gagging, slapping, pervert jk , dry humping , anal play , degradation, name calling, nicknames - lmk if i missed any!

★W/C: 4,395

A/N: remember that time I mentioned a jk fic that i was writing? This is that fic. Literally put this on hold for 2 months and finished writing it last night 😭 anyways enjoy!!

.02 <3

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★ MDNI. Please refrain from reading if the topics make you uncomfortable. ☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

“But i dont wannnnaaaaa goooooo!..” you whined as you declined your dad’s offer to go to his big company party. “Sweetheart this is a huge deal for me …” your dad countered. “… more over, mr.jeon is going to be there ..!” Your ears perked up at the mention of Mr. Jeon. The tall, tatted bachelor with his piercings and built body, who has been your dad’s best friend since his college days.

Since you were a teenager, you have had the biggest crush on him. He was perfect in every way. He was older. More wiser. Handsome. Just your type. The initial infatuation was small, but as you grew into your adult years, it grew stronger.

You were starting to dream about him. Not even the usual kind. Wet dreams.

He grew older like fine wine. Body covered in beautiful art. Built like an actual Greek god.

Surprisingly, he was not yet married, even though he was well off in his late 40s. He used to say 'no woman has ever caught my attention' when someone mentioned him still being single at his age—from what you've heard.

Your dad and him, being business partners, frequently bring him to your home. Always hanging out at the bar or in your dad’s study. You capitalized on these small visits and began attempting to attract his attention. Whenever he came over, you started hanging out at the bar. Offering to make him special drinks. Talking about his interests , which you found out through intense stalking just to impress him. wearing revealing clothes, buying him his favorite food and snacks whenever you visit his office to pick up something for your father. You got very close to him. Your obsession with him became stronger because he seemed so nonchalant about your little tactics. The worst thing you have ever done was hire someone to break off one of his relationships. Only you were meant for him. No one else.

Hearing your father say that he would be there was another opportunity to impress him. You shot up. “WHY DIDN’T YOU SAY THIS BEFORE???” You say as you rummage into your closet for the perfect dress. Your father believed that your attraction to Jungkook was innocent and similar to that of a child. You had always said you hated the smell of alcohol, so he thought it was strange for you to start hanging out at the bar. Despite noticing many changes, he dismissed them as 'innocence', so he expected you to join him if he mentioned Jungkook. He left your room with a satisfied smile on his lips. You finally found the dress. A satin spaghetti strap dress in black, his favorite color, with a dangerously low open back. The dress was revealing when you put it on; the side of your boob was peeking out, but it hugged your curves perfectly. As the time got closer, you finished up spraying on your most expensive perfume, taking a final look at yourself before leaving.

The party was classy. A huge venue with what appeared to be millions of waiters with champagne. Upon entering the venue with your family, your eyes immediately searched for Jungkook. It wasn't long before you spotted him in the middle of a small group. He seemed to notice your family and hurried towards all of you without delay. As he got closer, your heart was beating fast. “Hey hey! My man!” He said taking your dad into a tight hug. “You could have come a bit more later!” He said sarcastically, taking a jab at your dad’s late-coming habit. “Don't blame me! This one took too long!” Your dad exclaimed, hugging you by your side. Jungkook’s eyes landed on you. He stared you down. Taking in each and every curve, his eyes eventually landed on your chest before he looked at your face and smiled. “So glad you came! You look gorgeous tonight.” He said, taking in your hand and kissing the back of your palm slowly, in a sensual way, while deeply staring into your eyes. He pulled away and rubbed the skin with his thumb before giving you a smirk. You felt your insides melt and your brain malfunction at his simple gesture. You were frozen in place and didn’t know what to do. You shyly backed away and looked down , trying to hide your wide smile with your bangs, which Jungkook took notes on.

Time flew by as you watched Jungkook speak in front of the huge crowd with charisma and confidence. One of his best traits. He always caught everyone’s attention with his choice of words and tone. It was embarrassing for you to admit that, but it turned you on. Your legs were crossed, rubbing your thighs together from time to time, and no one seemed to notice, except for Jungkook, of course. He eyed you every time you made a small movement.

All the speeches and boring talks concluded, which made you run out onto the balcony for some fresh air. You stared off into the distance, thinking about what Jungkook had done to you earlier. Was it platonic? Was he just being nice? Does he have feeli- “did all those old men bore you out?” Jungkook was behind you. His voice husky. His lip and eyebrow piercing, shining under the moonlight. You were caught off guard and turned around to see ‘your man', “mr.jeon! Ugh you scared me!” You said dramatically, placing a hand on your chest. He gets closer with a charming smile on his face and hands in his pockets. “My apologies. I didn't mean to scare you!” He let out a soft chuckle. “How is your night going?” He asked you. “Hm? Oh good i guess, it’s kinda boring, but i would do anything for my father..” He chuckled and gave you a side eye. “For your father? Really?” it seemed like he knew the real reason why you were here in the first place. “Wdym really? I love my dad!” You said in a playful, offended tone. He chuckled once again. “Fine fine! I know how much you adore him.” You sighed softly and smiled.

“I like that dress on you. It suits you a lot.” He said while eyeing you. You blushed at his compliment, looking down and fiddling with your acrylic nails. “Thank you..” you mumbled under your breath. You feel him getting closer to you. “Sorry? I didn’t hear you, sweetheart.” His hands were on your hips, squeezing them softly. You froze in place. Heart beating faster. Your legs threatening to fall. His hands creeped towards your ass. Groping it softly, not wanting to seem too pushy. “Mr.jeon…-“ you let out a shaky whimper at his touch. “It’s jungkook for you, doll.” He said leaning in closer to your ears. He took a huge sniff of your neck and hair. “Thierry mugler alien eau de parfum? You have good taste.” He said while softly chuckling in your ears before pulling away. He lifted your chin so you can look at him. Your eyebrows were slightly furrowed as you stared into his intoxicating eyes. “What did you want to say earlier?” You gulped before speaking up. “Thank you… jungkook.” He smiled at you before placing a kiss on your forehead. His hands went under your ears, caressing the soft skin gently. Your eyes widened, and you just stood there. “I’ll see you around okay?” He said smiling before he left. You were standing put, like a statue, your limbs refusing to move.

A few days went by, and you were still processing whatever happened with jungkook that night. His kiss. The way his hands caressed your body. His little nicknames. It was just too much to process. You didn’t see or hear much from jungkook since that day. There were small interactions, but he seemed to ignore you each time. You were starting to get worried. What happened? What did you do wrong? Did you fuck up? Does he hate you?. You never stopped overthinking.

One morning, you heard the familiar voice of Jungkook from the kitchen, laughing and giggling with your father. You quickly put on your clothes and dolled up, still hoping to impress him, before you went downstairs. “Ah! She’s finally awake! We were just talking about you!” Your father exclaimed. You observed jungkook as he sat on the kitchen island and ate what appeared to be lucky charms. His favorite cereal. He glanced at you briefly before turning away. You felt your heart shatter. After all that he did? Is this the way he treats you? . You walked past him and got yourself a glass of orange juice. “Did you sleepwell princess?” Your father inquired. Jungkook was still not looking at you. His gaze was fixed on the newspaper in front of him. “Yeah yeah i did.” You said putting on a fake smile. “Oh!” Your father exclaimed as he heard his phone ring. “Excuse me.” He said before rushing out of the kitchen.

You glared at jungkook and gulped down your orange juice before dropping the glass onto the table. Jungkook noticed your action, which made him put his newspaper aside and walk towards you. “What’s wrong?” He inquired, leaning onto the island. “Hmph!” You huffed, turning around. He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Come onnn! Tell me.” He said while hugging your waist from the back. You let out a heavy sigh before turning back around. “What did I do wrong? Why do you keep doing this to me?” You asked. “Doing what?” “Are you seriously going to act like you don’t know?” You said folding your arms. Jungkook had a confused look on his face. “You are ignoring me damn it!” “Ohhhhh! About that! I just didn’t have anything to say.” He said shrugging. You rolled your eyes at him. “Admit it, Jungkook, you just want to play with my feelings. You don’t care about me. You never did.” You let it all out. It was weird for you to act like this, but you couldn’t help yourself. Jungkooks eyes darkened, and he stared at you. You gulp. “You think I don’t care about you? Me? Not caring about you? You think i come to your house almost every other day for your father?” He said while pushing you down onto the island. He turned you around and hugged you close to his body; you could feel his clothed hard dick on your pussy. You shudder when he slowly grinds his hips into your behind. “Ya feel that doll? Thats how you got me everyday..” he said whispering into your ears. His free hand found your right tit before he gave it a squeeze. Tugging the thin white fabric of your crop top down to expose your hardened nipple. You hear him darkly chuckle in your ear before giving the sensitive bud a squeeze. His hips never seemed to stop as he continued dry-humping you. You felt yourself involuntarily lowering yourself on the island, pushing your ass back into him for more stimulation. He immediately pulls away, leaving you weak and clenching around absolutely nothing. You whined, turning around to face him with pleading eyes. “What?” He scoffed at how desperate you were. He got closer and fixed your shirt. He didn’t say anything and just rubbed your shoulders down before walking away.

A while later, you were napping in your bedroom. It was not uncommon for you to take naps in between the day since you were basically unemployed and didn’t have much to do, and you also needed one after what happened with jungkook.

All the blinds were shut, leaving the room completely dark. It was silent; the only sound that was heard was the faint noise of the air conditioner. You were in deep sleep and didn’t notice or hear Jungkook entering your room. You felt the bed sink next to you before you felt a cold hand on your hip. His hands, kneading the soft flesh of your ass before it grazed around your desperate cunt. You whine when you feel his fingers touch and draw circles on your sensitive part. “Shh..” he shushed you before pressing onto your pussy. He chuckles at how quickly you got wet. Your mouth was agape, soft grunts escaping every second. He slowly pushed you onto your stomach, climbing on top of you before pulling your pink panties to the side.

It was dark, and he couldn’t see much, but he could feel how soaked you were. He spread your cheeks and lowered his mouth down onto your cunt, sucking on it. Your eyes shot open, heavy breathing as you turned around to see the man of your dreams eat you out from behind. “Ju-jungkook..?” He shut you up by lapping his tongue over your dripping cunt. You let out a loud moan, your head falling sideways, already drooling even though he barely started. He lifted your ass up using his strong hands, making you arch your back. He dropped his head lower and started sucking on your clit, his big nose pressing into your soaking pussy. You grabbed a handful of his hair from behind and pushed him closer. He hummed into your pussy, making you gasp for air. Loud slurping and squelching sounds, along with his groans and your moans, echoed throughout the room. You were seeing stars. The way his mouth ate you out and the feeling of his cold lip ring on your pussy were beyond comprehensible. Your heart started beating faster as you felt your body warm up, and a knot formed in your abdomen. Jungkook took notes on your body language and pulled away. You cried out when you lost contact.

He leaned in and switched on one of your bed lights, finally giving the room some light. He observed your body. Your ass was still up, your pussy glistening with his spit and your arousal. It was clenching and unclenching around nothing. He let out a scoff before turning you around. Your face already looked fucked out. Tears painted your cheeks, and drool was all over your mouth. He hovered over you, placing a hand on the headboard. He used his other hand to wipe your face clean. “We have gotten ourselves a good hour; better make this quick, alright?” You nodded softly and wrapped your hands around his neck, pulling him into a soft and tender kiss. He kissed you back and hugged you closely to his body. His hands went under your tee, squeezing your tit. You whined into the kiss. “You are so sensitive, sweetheart…” he mumbled. You break off the kiss and cup his face. “Jungkook… want more..” He tilted his head to the side and stared at you. He put on a smirk before standing at the foot of the bed.

He took off his pullover, revealing his tatted arms and toned abs and pecs. The soft bed light that was illuminating the room was able to capture every detail of his body. You stare. Hand in between your legs, squeezed shut. You bit your lip softly before your eyes met his. He gestured for you to come closer, which made you crawl to him. Your face was now right in front of his hard dick. You could see the bulge growing. His hand went behind your head, grasping your hair gently. You looked up at him with your doe eyes, which instantly made him fold, but he kept his composure. He gave you a nod, pushing your head closer to his crotch. Your nose nudged the bulge before your greedy fingers hastily unzipped his pants. Your eyes widened when his cock sprung out and hit his stomach. He was big. Girthy. The tip was red, and you could see his precum peaking from the slit. Without wasting time, you took a stripe from the base of his dick until the tip before you sucked on it. He hissed at the feeling of your plump lips sucking on his sensitive tip. He was starting to get impatient and pushed your head down, filling your mouth even though he was only half way in. You looked at him with teary eyes as you choked around his girth. He almost lost it when you looked up at him with those eyes of yours. His other hand caressed your cheek, pushing himself further down your throat. You could feel him. Your jaws were hurting, and you grabbed onto his hips for stability. Your throat spasmed around his cock. He noticed how you were kinda struggling. “Better make me feel good, okay? I want that throat to show me what it got.” With that, he started thrusting into your mouth. You started choking and gagging around his length, which just turned him on even more.

He yanked your head off of his cock. A string of pre cum and saliva connected your lips and his cock head. You looked up at him and whined, wanting his dick to stuff your mouth again. He bent down to your level before licking your chin clean, swallowing the mixture before speaking to you. “On your knees and hands, baby girl." You obliged immediately, taking off your flimsy tee before throwing your ass in the air and arching your back for him. You felt the bed dip behind you, and jungkooks long dick landed on your ass, slowly grinding through the sheer panties.His wet cock making it translucent. You whimpered, already feeling yourself getting hotter. “You are such a dumbslut.” He lowly chuckled.

“You think it wasn’t obvious?” He removed your skirt and ripped your panties. You gasp at his sudden action. “All these skimpy skirts and tops.. and just when I'm around? Were you that desperate, princess ?” He said while pushing his cockhead into your sopping hole.

You let out a loud moan; his tip was enough to stretch you out. “Not gonna lie… i was very flattered” gripping your ass cheeks as he slowly pushed further, letting you adjust to his size. He continued. “I only kept my cool because you were my best friend's daughter, but—holy shit-“ he gets cut off as you clench around his length, tears already dripping down your face. Your mind fogging up. You were constantly letting out soft moans and whimpers as he slowly bottomed down into you. “Woah there-“ he chuckled. “im not even half way in sweetheart” he said while grabbing a handful of your hair and pulling your head back. You looked at him with teary eyes. Lips quivering. He smirked before kissing your cheek. He let go of your hair and pushed your head down into the pillow using his hand. The other hand was on your hip as he finally pushed all the way in. “Since you are begging for it— ” you let out a loud scream as he filled you to the brim.

Although it was painful, the pleasure made you forget about the pain. you felt warm spit fall on your pussy as he starts moving. “Gon’ fuck you silly, alright? Isn’t that what you wanted? Getting dicked down by your father's friend? What a whore…” You nodded incoherently. A loud cry left your lips as his hips thrust into you harshly. His pace was slow, but the way he thrust in was so... Your body was moving forward with every thrust. Sounds of wet skin slapping echoed through your room. You were not able to focus on anything. His pace increased, and so did the harshness of his thrust. You clenched around him, making him fall forward. He caged your tiny body under his larger one. “Fuck babygirl.. you are gonna rip my dick off..” he chuckled. “Jungk-kook… feels too good…” you managed to blabber out as he fucked into you like a madman. “Yeah? you like that? You liked getting fucked by older men, dont you sweatheart?” You whined as his large hands gripped your hair.

This was wrong. Very wrong. This man has seen you grow up. He has been there since you were a baby.

“Let me hear those pretty sounds…” he said while landing a tight slap on your ass, reddening the area almost immediately. You gasped and whimpered, letting out a loud pornographic moan as Jungkook hit a specific spot. His other hand found your swollen clit and started drawing rough circles on it. Pinching and tugging the abused nub. Your legs trembled, and your moans got louder. “F-fuck! Jungkook…don’t s-stop! Feels so good!” You babbled. Jungkooks eyes were focused on your pussy. The way you took in his length. Your milky white cream coated his entire length, collecting at the base of his cock.

He stopped thrusting in you for a moment. You whined as you felt him suddenly stop. Jungkook smirked before leaning over and whispering in your ears. “Fuck yourself on me, doll.” You cried in defeat. Jungkook placed his hands on his hips, waiting for you to start moving. You gulped before slowly rocking your body forward and backward. You could feel his every inch penetrating the insides of your gummy walls. His large tip hitting your cervix over and over again. “Thats all you can do? Wow.. so pathetic..” he scoffed. You shook your head furiously and started going faster. Jungkook let out a satisfied groan as he watched your ass ripple. “Play with that little clit of yours.” He commanded. You reached down in between your legs, finding the sensitive nub almost immediately. You slowly rubbed your clit, sending shivers down your spine. You moaned out as the stimulation of your pussy and clit was getting overwhelming. You fucked yourself faster on his cock. Mouth in a soft ‘o’ shape and eyes crossed as his cock hit your gspot every time you moved in and out. Jungkook was in a different world. His eyebrows were furrowed, and sweat dripped down his neck. He was close to cumming just by seeing you fuck yourself on him.

His hands spread your ass cheeks, before a glob of spit landed on your asshole. You shuddered and panicked, stopping for a moment. “J-jungko-?” “Just focus on fucking yourself; everything is going to be alright…” he reassured you. You nodded before going back. His long fingers toyed with your rim. You grunt when you feel his fingers prod into your asshole. “Shh- shh.. youre safe .. jus’ wan’ try something new..” You gulped and shut your eyes tightly as his fingers ventured further into your asshole. He shoved three of his fingers into you, making you moan out loud. “Fuckkkkk- so tight…” he whispered. You melt and crumble when you feel his fingers move inside of you. You buried your head in your pillow, muffling out any unholy noise.

Your pussy and asshole clenched around his fingers and dick, making him groan. “So damn sensitive… has any guy fucked you, this good princess?” You shake your head. “N-no sir …” Jungkook shot up at the name. His fingers increasing in speed. You let out choked-out moans and cries as his fingers curled inside your asshole. “Say that again, will ya?” His other hand found your hips and started stretching your pussy out again. “Please.. f-fuck me harder… sir.” That was all it took to make Jungkook go feral. His cock left your pussy and was immediately shoved inside your sensitive ass. Your eyes shot out, and you couldn’t make any noise as you looked back at jungkook with tears rolling down your cheeks. He pinned your wrists behind your back before moving in and out. He struggled, initially. curse him for not stretching you out more, but his cream-coated cock provided enough lube for him to start pounding into you smoothly. “Shits so fucking tight- gah-“ your lips quivered and legs trembled as Jungkook fucked into you with great strength.

You screamed out, finally getting your voice back after he fully plunged his cock into you. Your cunt was leaking arousal, dripping down your thighs. Jungkook didnt seem to stop. His heavy, cum-filled balls were slapping against your pussy. “Jungkoook…- its too- too much!” You cried out. “Take it. You are a big girl. Take it like a big girl. I know you fucking can. Look at your little ass sucking me in. So good. So fucking good.” He pulled your body back and pounded into you. Your face was a mess. You cried and moaned like a bitch in heat every time he filled you to the brim. You felt your orgasm approaching as the feeling of the familiar knot in your stomach began growing. “Jung-jungkook- gon’ cum…” you whined. “Go on princess… be a good girl and cum all over me..” you nodded weakly, focusing on reaching your high. Jungkook flipped you over, laying you down on your back. His hands pushed your legs up against your chest. You were in ecstasy as the new position had you seeing stars. You observed Jungkook's sweaty body and fucked-out face.

A slap was landed on your glistening, sopping pussy before two fingers were shoved inside them. His thumb stimulating your clit. “Ngh- oh fuck- jungkook m’ so close…!” Your eyebrows were knit together, and sweat dripped down your face. The overstimulation getting too intense. Both his hips and hands increased their pace, determined to help you reach your high. You saw white as Jungkook pressed down on your sensitive bud. Clear liquid gushed out of your pussy and landed on his abdomen. You screamed as he continued fucking you through your orgasm. “Yeah.. just like that.. so dirty.. you are such a dirty little girl..” Jungkook's movements got sloppier. Your orgasm turned him on by a mile, and he was close to cumming himself. You twitched under him, still not over your intense orgasm, not noticing that he had slipped out of you and was furiously jerking himself off. His head was thrown back, and soft moans left his mouth. His breath hitched when a load of his milky white cum shot out all over your body. Coating your stomach and your boobs. You moan as you feel his hot cum land on your body, taking the mixture in your shaky fingers and licking it off while staring into his eyes. Jungkook smirked at you with half-lidded eyes.

“My dirty little girl."

A/N: HEHE THANK YEWWW 4 READINGGG! how was it tho? This would have been a stepcest fic but i changed my mind in the middle 🙁💔 im currently writing fics from my inbox! You can send in your rqs <3

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pellucid-constellations · 11 months ago

Text

Of Oblivious Minds (2)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: You're positive Azriel is in love with Elain. It seems so obvious. But Cassian is laughing at you and suddenly nothing makes quite so much sense anymore.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Angst!! More pining and yearning

a/n: Here is part two! I love writing this little series :) There will definitely be more! let me know what you think ♡♡

Part 1, Part 3

Sometimes you hated being a scholar.

There were plenty of upsides to having such a cushy job, especially when your employer was the high lord himself. You got paid generously, got free access to the best libraries, and never had to pay rent. Millions of fae would kill to have your position.

But as Cassian punched you in the ribs—for the third time—you found yourself questioning your role within the night court’s inner circle.

“Okay,” you breathed out, hunching over with a hand cradling your side. “Okay, please, Cass. Can we take a break?”

Unfortunately, Cassian didn’t appreciate quitters. So, your feet were abruptly swept from under you and your back made contact with the floor. With a soft oof, the wind was knocked from your lungs.

“C’mon, y/n, you’re better than that. I know you are.”

You responded with a wheeze, blinking into the pale sun.

This morning had been rough.

You’d been having some trouble sleeping, but that wasn’t necessarily unusual. Being alive for so long meant you had seen quite a few things, so nightmares came and went with the tide. You were going through a rough patch with them at the moment, and the lack of sleep was starting to catch up with you.

“You planning on laying there for the rest of the day?” Cassian asked, his large silhouette coming to block the light.

You squinted up at him. “Maybe.”

“Yeah, not happening.”

You fought back a whine as the Illyrian pulled you up by your shoulders and steadied you. He nodded, giving you a moment to ready yourself back into position, and then bent his knees. Gods, you were going to be so sore later.

It didn’t take long for you to end up on the floor again, this time on your stomach. Your chin cracked against the padded ring, your teeth snapping together at the impact. The sound made your brain vibrate as you rolled onto your side and held your temple.

Cassian crouched down to the floor beside you and you could make out his worried brow amidst the shakiness of your vision.

“What’s going on with you?” He brought his hand up to brush against your already bruising jaw. “We’ve been working on that move for weeks. You had it a few days ago.”

You breathed through your nose and tried not to groan at the ache rolling through your body. “I think I’m just tired. I haven’t been sleeping very well.”

At that, Cassian plopped down to a seat, keeping a hand at your elbow as you brought your own body up to mirror his.

“You want to talk about it?” he questioned.

“There isn’t much to say. I can’t remember them this time. It’s kind of strange—usually I remember them too much and that’s what makes it worse.”

Cassian hummed in contemplation. He was always the one you went to the morning after a sleepless night. Cassian would listen as you talked through your nightmares, and you would do the same for him. He was a logical pillar in your life.

But it was always Azriel you went to in the midst of them. You never talked about what you saw and he never asked. But it was always Azriel in the middle of the night. His shadows were a comfort in the pitch black and he was always quick to wrap his wings around you when it became too hard to breathe.

You hadn’t gone to him these last few times.

The fact that you couldn’t remember your dreams was an unfortunate factor. Because if you knew what was causing you to wake up in a cold sweat every night, at least then you could talk about it. Or take a moment to rationalize.

There was no rationalizing when the only thing you had to go off of was fear and hurt.

“What does Azriel think?” Cassian asked after a small lapse in silence.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, when you go to his room at night. What does he have to say about you not remembering?”

You scoffed. And then scoffed again. “What? I don’t know what you’re talking about, I barely do that.”

Cassian stared at you with a blank expression. “So we’re still doing that then. Got it.” He heaved himself up from the ground and then yanked you up alongside him.

“Still doing what?” you asked, trailing behind him as he reached for his canteen. He didn’t answer you, favoring the long gulps of water he was taking. You waited for him to finish and then asked again. He chose to unwrap his knuckles instead. “Cassian.”

The man sighed. “Nothing, y/n. It’s just… It wasn’t a secret that you would go to his room after you had a rough night. Why do you think I never dragged you out here those mornings?” You cringed at his words. He shook his head. “There’s nothing wrong with that. Why do you hide it?”

You didn’t have a good reason—well, you didn’t used to. You’d always sneak out of his room after the sun rose and never bring it up again. And there was never a solid explanation for why you evaded the topic. You knew Azriel would never hold it against you and you weren’t embarrassed for others to know that you sought out comfort in a friend. It just seemed like something you should keep to yourself.

Now, though—now there was a good reason to wipe your actions from memory. To pretend they never happened and to never repeat them.

“Cassian, Elain is my friend. Even if I did that in the past—in a friendly way—it would be wrong now.”

A muscle in Cassian’s jaw twitched. “Right. Have you ever actually talked to Elain about her feelings?”

“I don’t need to.” You reached down for your own water, ignoring the twinge in your side and the pulsing in your head. “She never stops talking about him. And they’re always together. I wouldn’t be surprised if they were already seeing each other.”

“Who’s seeing each other?”

The cool tone of Azriel’s voice washed over you and you whipped around to find him standing at the foot of the training ring, blades in hand.

A nervous laugh fell from your lips and you fought the urge to slap your hand over your mouth. “Um, no one, just some friends I know.”

“Who?” he asked again.

“Oh, you don’t know them. Old friends.”

The Shadowsinger raised a brow, sending Cassian a fleeting look. “I thought I knew all of your friends.”

“You don’t. I know way more people than you. Even though you're older than me. Not by that much, though. Have you talked to Elain lately?” Words were spewing from your mouth in the worst combinations. You were never nervous around Azriel. What in the cauldron was wrong with you?

Azriel’s raised brow turned into a furrowed one and he blinked, assessing your face with a scrutinizing gaze. “Do you have a concussion?” He turned the Cassian, expression going from confused to provoked. “Did you give her a concussion?”

“Honestly, maybe.”

“I don’t have a concussion,” you rushed out, cutting off Cassian’s admission. “I was just leaving though. I’m tired. You guys can fight each other.”

There was so much sudden pent-up energy inside of you that you had no intention of sleeping, but just seeing Azriel made you feel like you were intruding on something. Which was absurd. Azriel was your friend and had been your friend for centuries. Just because he loved Elain didn’t mean you had to avoid him.

But this energy had to come from somewhere, and that somewhere was telling you to avoid him like the Illyrian flu.

Making a break for it, you freed yourself from the training ring and attempted to skate past Azriel with a quick side smile, but he apparently had other plans. He caught your wrist as you walked past, glancing up at a “preoccupied” Cassian before turning to you with his wing out, giving the illusion of a private conversation.

“You’re not sleeping well?” he asked, voice low.

You warped your smile into one that met both sides of your mouth. “I’m okay.”

Shadows crept over his shoulders and along his ears. His expression shifted and pinched and then returned neutral. “You know you can come to me if you need it.”

“I’m okay, Az. Really.”

“Would you tell me if you weren’t?”

Maybe before.

“I’m a paper pusher, Az. I’m not out in the throes of battle,” you jested, scrunching your nose as you smiled up at him. “Nothing is that serious for me.”

A lie. Something was that serious—serious enough to keep you up at night for the past week—but you couldn’t figure out what it was.

“That is not what I asked,” he countered, sliding his hand up from your wrist to turn your chin. “You need to ice your jaw. Cassian shouldn’t be so rough with you.”

“I’m okay,” you said again, words a pathetic repetition because your heart was beating so fast now and you needed to leave. Something was pulling at your chest and you needed to leave.

“As you’ve said,” Azriel muttered, his fingers brushing down along the column of your throat. When his eyes flickered up and met your own, something inside of you lost its alignment.

You looked away before the feeling could return. Everything righted itself. You took a wobbly step back.

“Have a good training session.”

You turned on your heel and stalked away, feeling equal parts the betrayer and the betrayed.

“You mean that girl off-continent? The one from a century ago?”

Cassian hummed. “Yeah, her. What I wouldn’t give for a visit from her.”

“You’re a pig,” Mor replied, a scoff sharp on her lips.

“She didn’t think so.”

You were eavesdropping. You didn’t like to, but somehow, in the time you’d spent in the inner circle, you’d picked up the habit. Oops.

Technically, you weren’t really eavesdropping. You had been in the room first. It wasn’t your fault Cassian and Mor decided to speak very loudly with only a few shelves separating you. If they wanted privacy they should have checked the area.

“Is it that hard for you to get laid? You have to search off-continent?”

Cassian’s responding laugh was almost defensive. “I’m sure you’d love to know about my sex life.”

“I really wouldn’t, actually. You brought it up.” Mor paused. You heard her shift on the lounge chair. “I am, however, interested in Azriel’s.”

“Aren’t we all,” Cassian droned. “Pretty obvious that he doesn't have one at the moment. Hasn’t had one in a while.”

You felt your neck jolt at the reveal of that information. Azriel always kept his partners discrete, but you’d always known he’d had them. Many of them. You had no idea who they were or where he met them, but you would hear the girls occasionally... smell their perfume on a few rare nights.

“You think? This whole time?” Mor asked, curiosity raising her voice an octave.

“Mor, I think the sight of other females makes him want to vomit.”

The book in your lap was all but obsolete.

“Don’t be so dramatic.”

Cassian tsked. “I’m not. He’s told me.”

“I suppose that’s what having a mate does to a person.”

Your fingers became abnormally cold, the center of your chest caving slightly.

Azriel had a mate? No, he would have told you.

He would have told you.

Mor’s sweet voice slammed against your ears, harsh despite its nature. “Do you think he’ll tell her soon?”

Cassian’s reply had you standing on shaking knees. “Hope so. He’s so in love with her it's suffocating. You should see when—”

You were out of the room in a wisp, sliding out the small back door. The book you’d been reading was still clutched in your frozen grip and you held it against your chest as breathing became impossible. With a hand pressed to the wall and your head hung low, you sucked in air, greedy for some type of reprieve.

You were happy for him. You were so, so happy for him.

Right?

The book fell from your grip, clattering to the floor. The pages collapsed in on themselves as it fell face down, and you listened to the paper crumple as your throat closed. Both hands now pressed to the cold wall. Why were you freezing?

This made sense. It made sense.

Of course Azriel had a mate and of course it was… Elain?

No, it couldn’t be Elain. Elain was Lucien’s mate.

Now you were confused as well as consumed. Your body was left aching from training and your mind was in a frenzy and you couldn’t even understand why you were reacting the way you were.

It was completely plausible that Azriel had a mate and didn’t tell anyone about it. He was a private male who kept his lovers to himself, so of course he would keep his mate to himself as well. But he did tell someone about it. He told Cassian. And Mor knew.

Your fingernails dug into stone.

Azriel didn’t love you.

The thought came on so suddenly that you almost looked over your shoulder. It was as if the words had been whispered in your ear by some cruel, vicious wind.

You had never cared if Azriel loved you before, because you knew that he did love you. Like a sister. You were Azriel’s family and he was yours.

But as the thought of Azriel having a mate invaded your mind once more, your shaky legs propelled you forward, running from the creased book and the hallway that contained all of the worst things.

You ran until you couldn't, until your toes hit the edge of the balcony on the far side of the house and the cool air of winter hit your cheeks. You had been so cold inside, but somehow the breeze felt even colder across your skin.

“Y/n?”

You gasped, whipping around and gripping the railing as it pressed into your spine. You couldn’t formulate words as Azriel stood before you. His hands raised up to his waist, reaching for you as he took in the way your chest heaved.

“What’s happened? What’s wrong?” he rushed.

You only shook your head, squeezing your eyes shut. Embarrassment and confusion and a twisted sort of fear coursed through you. You couldn't look at him, afraid you would somehow see the bond connected to his chest—somehow notice things about him you hadn’t before. Maybe another shade of hazel in his eyes or a softness to his lips that you had never looked for.

As you considered it now, it was obvious that you’d never let yourself look.

Azriel was never supposed to be yours.

“Talk to me, angel.” Azriel’s sweet whisper brushed against your skin. He was so close to you. You could feel him, but you refused to look.

To see how everything had changed.

“Let me fix it.”

You heard the rush of wind from his wings as he expanded them outwards, followed closely behind by the whirling of his shadows, and it all clicked then.

The images came quickly, dissipating just as fast. But they did their job, sending heavy, hot tears past the tight scrunch of your eyelids.

Azriel with Elain. Azriel with Mor. Azriel with random, faceless women.

Him, in every iteration, with everyone that wasn’t you.

That’s what had kept you up—the dreams plaguing your every resting moment. And you realized then that nothing had really changed at all. That you’d been in love with Azriel for longer than you’d been in love with anything.

Your jaw trembled, your body rejecting the anguish that swept through you. Wind softly flowed from the west, swaying your skirts with a gentleness that made your breath shudder. That kind of gentleness was impossible. The world felt so cruel.

“Y/n, tell me what happened. Should I get someone else?” Azriel pleaded. “Should I get Rhys?”

Rhys could knock you out, and that would surely be a relief. You felt paralyzed by this overwhelming array of devastation. But Rhys would also have access to your thoughts.

You shook your head. “No,” you said, but the word was lost in the wind. Azriel seemed to hear it anyway. “No, I want—I need to—go to sleep.”

“You need to go to sleep?” He touched you now, something he seemed to have been avoiding. His hands came to rest behind your neck, thumbs at your jaw, and you pried your eyes open at the contact. You’d never seen the shadowsinger look so ruined, his hair askew, his eyes wild and panicked. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

His expression was beseeching you for something you couldn’t give him. You hiccuped your next words out.

“I’m—’m tired.”

You wished you’d stayed oblivious. That you had never become privy to the depth of your feelings.

This pain was immeasurable.

#azriel x reader #azriel acotar #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #acotar fanfiction #azriel #azriel angst #azriel fanfic

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tinycoffeeroom · 7 months ago

Text

more than enough | lando norris

face claim: none ♡

request: here !

requested: Hi lovely, I loved just friends!! Since reading, all I’ve been able to thinking about is bestfriend/roomate Lando. Maybe you’re not able to join him for race weekend and he hasn’t heard from you, like at all. When he returns, he thinks you’re not home until he hears the sobs and realises something is really wrong. Maybe you’ve broken up with your boyfriend and Lando is standing on the other side of your locked bedroom door, absolutely in love with you and hurting because you’re hurting 🫠

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

📍 Miami

liked by oscarpiastri, mclaren and 1,387,928 others

landonorris WE FUCKING DID IT!!!!! P1 in Miami!!!!! you bitches can't call me lando nowins anymore!!!

See 997,729 other comments

fan you can tell lando runs his own social media... ↳ mclaren it is our biggest burden

oscarpiastri well done mate! well deserved! ♥️ landonorris ↳ landonorris you next osc!!!

maxverstappen1 i said i'd have to collect my wins before you start coming for them, congrats winner! ♥️ landonorris

mclaren our papaya boy, you will always be loved (heart) ♥️ landonorris

fan WHERE IS Y/N?????? ↳ fan lando said in an interview that she couldn't come this week!!!! i'm sure she texted / called him

fan i know y/ns screaming and crying at the fact she couldn't be there this week

fan no lando / y/n hugging photo :((((( i miss my best friends

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f1gossip Lando Norris' roommate and best friend Y/N L/N was caught in a heated argument with her recently debuted beau outside a restaurant in Monaco. The person who sent the photo in was too far away to hear the argument, but said Y/N seemed despondent to the situation, watching her boyfriend walk away before paying the bill and leaving quietly. Soon after, waiter's came to each outside table and told them Y/N sent her apologies for the commotion.

fan y/n :(((( was he the reason she couldn't go to Miami????

fan i'm gonna dox him ↳ fan i mean... i'm not gonna stop you

fan i have a knife.

fan i hope he's an ex boyfriend now wtf???

fan do you guys remember the pics of her and lando talking at padel and her bf was shooting DAGGERS at lando??? yeah somethings going on there ↳ fan we hate insecure men

fan lando i know u have money and connections i need this man to disappear

It wasn’t unusual for you to go radio silent after a race you weren’t able to attend, especially one on the other side of the world. Lando was used to a simple “congrats on P4!<3333” or wherever he had placed that time, and then you would be off to the land of dreams as he went about his day, shuffling between meetings and the media paddock.

Today was different however. Lando had actually won. He’d won his first ever race and his best friend and roommate was virtually nowhere to be seen. He couldn’t help but feel a little angry at you, you knew how much P1 meant to him, the hours he had spent moping around the little apartment the two of you shared after a bad race and the rants he would go on when he placed P2 but was inches from that ever so elusive win, slipping just through his fingertips.

He fired off one last text to you before sliding the phone back into the waistband of his fireproofs so he had his hands free to accept celebratory fist bumps and handshakes from every garage along the paddock.

The lack of communication from you slowly slipped his mind after he had interview after interview, the kind and excited words of the journalists filling him with pride as they recall just how far ahead of Max he had been. Sure, his mood soured everytime someone mentioned that he got lucky with the safety car but his mother always told him that luck was something to utilise, not something to rely on.

When he was finally free of the media’s hands, he checked his phone again. No messages from you which made him sigh, but one from Max. Opening their text thread, he’d dropped Lando a location pin for a well known bar in Miami along with the sentence “9pm, be there or be square, race winner”.

–

To be quite honest, Lando doesn’t remember much of the party. Hell, he doesn’t even remember getting there, Zak having plied him with glass after glass of champagne during their debrief. He’s pretty sure Oscar had been the one to zip his fly up when they met outside their hotel rooms before the party, hands moving up to recentre his shirt so only a slightly scandalous amount of chest showed.

Sitting on the private jet, again courtesy of Max, he thumbed through the last text thread between the two of you. You’d seemed fine, mentioning that you were going out for a meal with your boyfriend before the race started, and then… nothing. Complete and total radio silence.

Maybe you were still with your boyfriend, too wrapped up in that jackass to notice the 17 messages Lando had left you since last night.

God, he hated that guy. Ever since the day you had introduced him to Lando, he’d had a bad feeling. The guy was too touchy, arm wrapped securely and possessively around your waist like Lando was some kind of threat.

And maybe he was.

If he’d just manned up and told you the truth, that he’d loved you since the moment the two of you met one sunny day when he was still an F2 driver and you were the sister of one of his rivals, then maybe it would be his arm draped around you.

Instead he had smiled, rolled over and showed his stomach like a runt at the bottom of the food chain, and watched from afar as the guy whisked you away under a mottled sunset.

He felt a nudge at his side, eyes meeting Max’s curious ones. “Still no reply?”

He sighed, shaking his head as he pocketed his phone once again. “Maybe she’s busy…”

The excuse sounds weak even to his own ears, and when Max simply hums unbelievingly, he sighs again, mind torn in half at the elation of his win and the sadness of your ignoration.

–

Sliding the key into the door, he listened ahead for any sign of life. The sound of dishes clinking in the sink, or your playlist of noughties hits that he always pretended to hate but would secretly sing along to when you weren’t looking.

The silence that blankets him is unnerving. Too reminiscent of when he’d moved here alone and had all but begged you to join him, promising a rent free and easy going life.

Checking the kitchen, he sees it’s exactly as he left it last week. The living room is barely lived in, the odd throw misplaced from the back of the sofa. His game room door is still shut, as is both his and your bedrooms.

As he walks through to drop his suitcase off in his room, dreading the amount of washing that will fall out of it when he gets the energy to open, he hears a noise. From your bedroom, specifically.

Checking his watch, he sees its 2 in the afternoon. Normally, you would be up and out by now, dragging Lando to whatever new fad you had seen on tiktok, or to the padel courts where he would inevitably lose to you.

Leaning so his ear presses against the door, he can make out the shuffling of sheets. Maybe you had decided to do some laundry whilst you waited for him to get back. But then, the sound of sniffling joins.

He freezes on the spot, ear still pressed haphazardly to the wooden door. The sniffles get louder and louder, soon joined behind an unmistakable sob. He can feel his heart drop to the floor, his stomach joining it on its tumultuous way down.

You were crying. And he had no idea why.

Pulling away from the door, his hand hovers the knob. Should he knock first? Should he just leave you to it? Normally, when you were sad, you would sneak into whichever room he was in, either reaching a hand out to lay against his back or sitting close enough so your thighs touch. He knew you needed to feel some part of him in order to ground yourself, and he always obliged. Oftentimes, the two of you would end up cuddled on the couch, some soppy chick flick on the tv as you gave into the warmth surrounding you, eyes closing as you rested your head against his shoulder. Despite how much it hurt to see you sad, he couldn’t deny these quiet moments were his favourite part of any day.

Another sob breaks out, the sound so cruel and visceral, it was as if it had been yanked from your very soul. He forgoes knocking, hand twisting the knob harshly. He tries to push it open, only to be met by a force pushing back against him.

You’d locked the door.

In the 4 years of living together, neither of you had ever once locked your bedroom doors, knowing the other would knock before entering but still feeling comfortable enough to forgo privacy so the rooms could be open to the other whenever.

“Y/N?” He calls out hesitantly, as one would approach an injured bird.

The sobs become muffled, more shuffling of sheets before you call back to him, voice weak and torn along the edges. “Lando?”

He normally loved when you said his name, but the whine that accompanies it today leaves a sour taste in his mouth. He knows he should ask what’s wrong but he doesn’t know where to begin. He’s never not known why you’re sad, the two of you an open book shared between friends.

He starts the only way he knows how. “Did you watch the race?”

More shuffling of sheets and when you respond, your voice is closer. “I’m sorry Lan, I didn’t get a chance to.” A moment of silence passes between the two of you. “How did you do?”

He wants to be angry. He really does. The one time you don't watch a race and he only goes and bloody wins it. “I won.”

“What?” Your voice wobbles, wondering if you were imagining what he had just said.

“I won, Y/N. My first P1. 7 seconds ahead of Max.”

He waits for your response, probably some form of congratulations spoken through wood given your current mood. What he wasn’t expecting was for you to unlock and slam open the door, the both of you wincing as it bangs against the wall. “Say that again.”

He takes you in for a moment. Bloodshot eyes rimmed with violet, tears still making their way down flushed cheeks. You’re wrapped in your duvet, only your head visible as the duvet covers what is probably bedhead and your favourite set of pyjamas - flannel trousers and a t-shirt of Lando’s you had stolen at some point.

Shrugging his shoulders, he smiles warily at you. “I won.”

Throwing yourself at him, he takes a moment to steady the two of you, arms wrapping around the mass of duvets surrounding you. He can feel you crying again, tears soaking the collar of his shirt.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Lan. I should have watched, I mean you won and I wasn’t even there to watch. I’m sorry, please forgive me.” You choke through the words, fingers digging roughly into Lando’s back.

He winces at the feeling of your nails digging into his skin through the shirt, squeezing you even closer to him. “Don’t be sorry. Something obviously happened.” He uses the mound of duvet to pull you away, eyes flickering over your face. You look heartbroken in more ways than one. “What happened, sweet girl?”

Your lips quiver at the nickname, a hand poking through the duvet to reveal your phone. After 3 tries of using face ID, you huff, angrily putting in your passcode before turning the screen to Lando.

He scans the screen. It’s an instagram post by some F1 gossip page. He recognised the user as one who often tried to paint him as some womaniser, taking any regular interaction with a woman as a sign he was sleeping with them.

This post, however, is different. He sees you first, mouth in a tense line as you stare blankly at your boyfriend. Then he sees the caption.

The anger returns, festering and dark, this time directed to your dickhead of a boyfriend. “What did he do?”

You sigh, locking the screen and pulling your hand back into the duvet cocoon. “I said I wanted to go home because your race was about to start. He got angry and accused me of being in love with you. I pointed out that I was literally on a date with him. He called me every name under the sun, told me we were over and then stormed off. I’m sorry, Lan, this isn’t good publicity for you.”

He scoffed, eyebrows raising skyward. “I dont give a fuck about the publicity, I care about you. How dare he speak to you like that?” He can tell the angers bleeding into his tone but he’s about 2 seconds away from finding out where that prick lives and beating him over the head with a padel racket. “Are you ok? Do you want to put on a chick flick? Order a takeaway? Go to a rage room and plaster his face across every breakable thing?” Moving closer, he rests his hand against your jaw, nudging it between your tear stained skin and the soft duvet. “Tell me what you want me to do and I’ll do it.”

Sighing, you nuzzle against his hand. “None of that, Lan. I just want to cry and forget what happened last night.”

Swallowing his pride, he nods. “Do you want me to talk to him? I can tell him we’re not in love with each other. Just best friends.” The ending comes out a little bitterly, but he hopes you’re too distracted to notice.

You smile up at him affectionately. The simple curve is enough to make his heart flutter from where it had picked itself off the floor and wormed its way back into his chest.

Reaching up to lay your hand over his, lacing your fingers between his, you sandwich it between the warmth he so craved. “I just want to be with you. You make everything better.”

He reflects your smile, brushing his thumb along your cheekbone. You wanted him, just him, and for now that was more than enough.

#lando norris fanfic #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #f1 x reader

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princessbrunette · 9 months ago

Text

NEVER LOSE ME ♡

♪ flo milli — never lose me ♪

TELL ME YOU DONT NEVER WANNA LOSE ME!

pairing: rafe cameron + bunny!reader જ⁀➴₊⊹ ♡

synopsis: being in a relationship with rafe, things are always easy on you and your bunny brain. until they’re not.

cw: butt stuff, violence, blood, alcohol mentions, reader is kind of a bimbo, kind of dumbification? mean!rafe, canon spoilers, shoupe, criminal activity, manipulation/threats, slut shaming, mentions of drugs. the ‘dad’ nickname and daddy kink ♡

Your vanity table was your place of peace.

Pink powder puffs and abused beauty blenders. Shimmery MAC gloss. That one blush pallette with the rabbit engraving that was too pretty to use. When you were sat at that table, everything was okay. You were in girl world, with glitter particles floating like fairies in the air around you and that one lipstick swatch on the back of your hand. It was easy to lose time, there were just so many important decisions to make. What lipliner with what gloss? Are you doing glitter in your inner corners today or not? Probably yes, there was never a wrong time for glitter. However it was only the country club you were visiting, and you were meant to be there twenty-five minutes ago. Being a girl is hard.

The country club was where you and Rafe had locked eyes for the first time. You remember it so clearly, not so much like a fairytale but more so like a sexy 2000s movie where the hot people end up together. You were new to the neighbourhood, a pretty young thing wandering into the Kook club with nothing but a shoulder bag and a skirt that clung to your ass cheeks.

Rafe did a double take when he first saw you, the sort they do in cartoons. You were the first girl he’d seen that dressed skimpy and yet still looked expensive, all dressed in virginal white with endless amounts of skin on display. He’d licked his lips, squinting across the golf course as he aimlessly swung his club in circles, tuning out of whatever-the-fuck it was Topper was complaining about this week. At first, for a few seconds anyway — he didn’t know if he wanted you or hated you for walking in here looking like that, knowing you’d be the talk of the town and the visage behind every guy at the country clubs wet dreams. You’d looked back at him and nervously bit at your manicured finger nail, offering a demure smile. There was something unsure and innocent about you, which confirmed how he felt — if his dick jumping in his pants wasn’t enough. He had to have you.

He vowed to get to know you, force his way into your life — and that’s exactly what he did. He would have felt like a creep, eyeing you from across the bar and asking everyone he could what they knew about the new girl — if you didn’t make it so apparent you were doing the same. You made friends quickly with that bubbly, ditsy, happy-go-lucky attitude of yours— and were soon to sit at the tables outside overlooking the golf course in clusters, whispering through cupped palms and giggles when Rafe and his crew would pass by. He’d act all nonchalant at first, but as he chews at his gum obnoxiously, he couldn’t stop the smirk from curling his lips up. Even his friends would shove at his shoulders excitably. This shit is so high school, he’d think. It was time to make a move.

And so he did — he made sure everyone saw too. Pulling up in his truck out the front of the club, graciously turning down the Future song booming from the speakers to wind his window down and lean out of it with that million-dollar Cameron-man smile. “You leavin’ here by yourself? Look, let me drive you, ‘kay? Been meaning to talk to you anyway, beautiful.”

He’d made sure everyone saw you climbing into the passenger seat of his car. Rafe and the new girl. If Rafe had swooped on her, she was pretty much off the market. Word spread fast, and you were his before he’d even asked you to be. Things took off fast, and with Rafes status came your own. You were untouchable, unpunishable, Kildares sweetheart. A mystery to some. Where did she come from? Is it true X tried to take a shot at her? Everyone knows she’s Rafe Cameron’s girl.

The rest is history — dates, excessive spoiling, meeting The famous Ward Cameron, Rafe breaking that virgin cunt in the same night. Things moved at the perfect pace and you couldn’t be happier. Rafe just made life so easy for you, to the point where around him — you were completely on auto pilot, letting your boyfriend do all the thinking. You figured that’s where you earned your nickname and likeness. A bunny, he’d always compare you to.

Whilst you had this Marylin Monroe sort of allure about you that never failed to draw him in, you were wide eyed and innocent like a bunny rabbit. That, and the way you bounced on his cock, and lest he forget the way your nose twitches when you’re upset. Those were recognised as bunny-like tendencies, so for Rafe — the designer shoe just seemed to fit. You sigh, reminiscing on when Rafe had pushed that bunny tail plug into your ass for the first time as you walk through the gates to the County club. Clearly, you were in a mood today.

“People are lookin’ at me.” You giggle with your cheek to his chest once you find him, careful not to smear your blush on the delicate fabric of his polo once more.

“Maybe it’s ‘cos they can practically see your tail stickin’ out the bottom of your skirt. Pull that shit down, would you?” He complains, but does it for you all the same— ringed hands sliding round down your ass to yank the material down enough for him to be satisfied. You let him, enjoying the feeling of his coarse hands on you— knowing the material was only due to slide right back up as soon as you take a few steps.

The sun burns bright that day, and as Topper approaches the two of you on the grassy hill of the golf course— he holds his golfing glove above his eyes as a makeshift protection from the sun. He wears that expression that’s 90% teeth, smiling as he slides over. “And will I be seeing this lovely lady at the party down at Crystals tonight?”

“A party?” Your back straightens in excitement, neck craning to look up at your boyfriend, who’s jaw tightened at his friend.

“I’m there on business, remember Top?” He blinks a couple of times like he was trying to send a message telepathically, and Toppers face falls a little. Your boyfriend looks to your hopeful expression, sighing a little exasperatedly. “Gonna be there for like an hour. Max. Just pushin’ product, baby. Shits boring.” He waves you off and your brows furrow, following him when he peels away to line up his ball.

“But I like parties! What product Rafey?” You mewl, laying a gentle hand on his playing arm, making him briefly stuff his tongue between his lips to concentrate extra hard. He looks around for listeners before turning his attention back to you.

“Got some yayo on me. ‘Kay? Gonna make us a shit tonne of money.”

You furrow your brows. You couldn’t remember which drug ‘yayo’ was, and you wasn’t even aware of the fact he was selling again. He said he was stopping all that, but as he constantly drilled into your head — you supposed Rafe knew best. It wasn’t your business, and wasn’t anything you had to worry about. Truthfully, you cared more about putting together an outfit to wear to the mentioned party in question.

“Can I still come? I wanna come.” You bounce on your glittery sandals with a ditsy smile, the action making your tits jostle in your little top. Perhaps that was what convinced him, the boy squinting thoughtfully out across the golf course.

“Aaah…” He stresses quietly, lifting his arm to scratch the clammy skin of his forehead beneath his floppy bangs.

“Please dad, won’t get in the way.” You pout, standing on your tiptoes pleadingly. Topper coughs awkwardly at the nickname, still standing near by, rifling through his clubs. Rafe licks his lips before rolling his eyes.

“Alright, okay. But no gettin’ involved, a’ight? Got a little chatty with my customers last time. No more of that, got it?” He warns, throwing you a look over his shoulder as he begins to stance up, gesturing for you to move back so he wouldn’t hit you with his club.

Truthfully, Rafe didn’t like bringing you to parties. As much as he loved parading you around, he knew what he was like — and seeing tens of guys ogling what rightfully belonged to him got tiring. Especially when you were so oblivious, bouncing around pool parties with your tits nearly escaping your bikini, or dancing with your friends to the point of your skirt flipping up — giving everyone a show. He knows you didn’t mean it, you were ditsy as it was so with alcohol added you were a complete loose cannon. However, with each sip he’d take— his rage would only grow, always having to deal with your pouting when he’d make the two of you leave early so he didn’t pummel someone’s face in.

Plus, he was trying to mature now. Step into his father’s shoes. He didn’t even like partying at all the way he used to— it was strictly business now. An in and out job. Was harder to do that with you there.

You always forgot how well loved Rafe Cameron was until he brings you along to a function. His hand staying glued to the small of your back as he walks you through, heads turning — his name being called from all angles like he’s a celebrity. It made you snuggle up harder to his side, which he was alright with — he had no problem being extra touchy with you tonight whilst you wore that baby pink IAMGIA Demie set like you were doing it a favour. It shows more skin than Rafe was okay with people that weren’t him seeing, but he’d be with you all night, so he assumed it would be fine.

You fiddle nervously with the diamanté Hello Kitty sat on your chest when your boyfriend started to pull out the small bags with white powder inside. You didn’t quite understand the whole drug thing, but you knew for a fact you wasn’t the biggest fan of the way people acted when they were on it. They were loud, too grabby, scary. You push your cheek against Rafes side as people swarm him, asking for his supply. He’s cool and calm as ever, smirking in that way that made you want him all to himself.

“No hogging my shit this time a’ight? You get what you pay for.” He drawls playfully to the crowd, his hand thoughtlessly sliding to your waist to drag you gently out the way of the group that was forming near him. He turns his body a little, leaning down to your ear. “Wouldn’t mind grabbing me a beer would you baby? Got big boy business to attend to.”

You swan off to complete this task in a bit of a haze, you always got sort of dazed when you were with Rafe— mostly because being with him meant you got to switch your brain off and have him do all the thinking for you. It was a blessing and a curse, because now it’s been an hour and you forgot all about getting Rafe his drink, having found some friends to take some shots with instead.

You’re warm, stumbling giddily away from where everyone else is dancing as you approach the drinks table, pondering another. As you feel a presence appear up by your side, you tug your top up thoughtlessly, humming as you rub your glossy lips together. The strangers eyes fall to your little get-up, lip clamped beneath his top set of straight white teeth like a predator.

“I really love that little outfit. Looks great on you.” He calls out, with a friendly voice matching a friendly smile. It captures your attention and you whip your head to him, earrings jangling from the movement. You take the chance to look down at your ensemble before raising your glassy gaze up to him, ends of your lashes kissing your eyebrows.

“Oh my gosh, thank you!” You grin, wiping your clammy hands on the ruffle of your skirt. It was a compliment, sure — but in the back of your mind you surveyed the situation and he truly seemed like he liked the outfit, and didn’t seem creepy at all. He’s polite, keeps his gaze respectful (until you turn away, and he can catch a glimpse at your cleavage.) and friendly. You exchange names, before he ensues with the conversation.

“So where’s your friends? Left you all by yourself?” He reaches forward, pulling a piece of rogue fluff from your hair, chuckling adoringly at your carelessness as he tosses it aside. You spin around to where they previously were, met with no familiar faces and an empty space. You frown, glossy bottom lip sticking out when you turn back to him. Of course, it’s adorable.

Too adorable, thinks your boyfriend who watches you from across the room. He’s tightly clutching his own beer, stood chatting with his friends as he observes the situation — losing interest in the surrounding conversation all together. It had been an hour since he’d last seen you, and now here you were — parallel to him with some guy in your ear, making you laugh, fluttering those eyelashes like you always did. He ticks his jaw, tongue in his cheek as he stares you down. Waiting for you to come running over all guilty, ready to fawn over him.

The guy is suggesting your friends disappeared upstairs, perhaps a bathroom, a bedroom — anywhere he can get you alone to eventually work you out of your panties. You’re totally oblivious to it, shaking your head — having a reason against each of his suggestions. It’s frustrating, the way you won’t take the hint— but also the whole ‘bimbo’ thing was kind of doing it for him, unable to work out if you were a total slut or a total virgin, those doe eyes and innocent aura contrasting too heavily on the way your tits practically spill out of your top for either to give him a clear conclusion.

Rafe is mildly irritated, watching the way you bounce with each move you make— one wrong pose from your ass cheeks spilling from the bottom of your skirt. He keeps a watchful eye, until finally — your dopey expression meets his and your face lights up, traipsing over. Much to the Cameron’s surprise— you audaciously loop your arm around the guys bicep, dragging him with you.

“Rafey! Hi! Sorry about your drink, I forgot all about it.” You blink up at him, happy as a clam as you free your arms to affectionately stroke at his chest. He nods, lips parted as his eyes flicker over to the guy at your side— who’s face is slowly dropping in realisation.

“Yeah.” He responds, and doesn’t get to say much else because you’re dropping this sucker in it.

“This is my new friend! He’s helping me find my girls ‘cos I lost them.” You pout, and Rafe’s lip curls up into a smirk— gaze now completely fixated on the stranger.

“Friends huh? You uh, you makin’ friends with my girl, man?” He smiles, but it’s malicious— taking a step forward causing you to move aside. Your brows furrow, sensing the sudden shift in atmosphere, especially when Rafes two Kook attack dogs, Topper and Kelce tune into the conversation, which attracted even more eyes.

“I didn’t know, dude.” The boy seems to have lost all his confidence from before, shrinking several sizes as your tall boyfriend closes in on him.

“Ah, he didn’t know.” Rafe shrugs theatrically before turning to his friends— smarmy smiles on both of their faces at the interaction. “Guys he didn’t know.”

“Come on, man.” The stranger seems uncomfortable with the amount of attention the scene is already creating, more and more heads turning by the moment. You fiddle with your necklace again, twirling the thin chain around a manicured finger as you watch— unsure just what was happening. Your boyfriend claps a seemingly friendly hand onto the man’s shoulder, holding him tightly.

“Nah, man— tell me. You usually walk around at parties… alone… making friends with drunk chicks? That’s uh, yeah that’s a little weird man.” Rafe laughs, so naturally everyone laughs. It’s clear your boyfriend is set on humiliating this guy for talking to you, and you’re not quite sure how you feel about it.

“Maybe you shouldn’t let your girl walk around dressed like a hooker if you don’t want guys—” The boy doesn’t get to finish his sentence, because in a moments notice — Rafe has swung his fist back and pummelled it into his face, hard. A crowd forms, and you nearly get shoved out the way by the sudden rush of jeering, drunk party goers. You gasp, watching the way Rafe straddles his squirming body, a meek attempt at fighting back.

“What was that? You wanna say that shit again, huh? Huh?” Rafe continues to beat on the guy who insult you, teeth grit, jaw tense. The victim attempts to push Rafe off, but Rafe pins him again — bigger and stronger by a mile. This only seems to anger him more, and you watch as Rafe wraps two hands around the guys neck, holding down until his face turned pink.

That’s when you notice that Topper and Kelce aren’t smiling anymore, instead pushing through the crowd suddenly to grab a hold of their friend, yanking him off the man on the ground. Rafe only shrugs them off once before letting them drag him away.

“Yeah? Yeah? Maybe you’ll think next time you try ‘n make some fuckin’ friends, bitch.” He spits as his farewell, before shaking free of his friends and grabbing a hold of your upper arm, all but hauling you out of that party at a speed and strength to where you were certain your feet were barely touching the ground.

The drive home is silent, and only then you start to realise that you might be in trouble too. You didn’t like when Rafe got like this, mad and scary. His temper was no surprise to you, he was always storming around with a sour look on his face, or slamming doors after the daily argument he’d hash out with Ward. All of these examples seemed like mild irritation in comparison to the rage you saw him succumb to only moments prior. He had this look in his eye when his hands were around that man’s neck, his pupil overtaking his iris. It was like he really didn’t mind hurting this guy real bad, and you wondered what would have happened if no one stopped him. Usually, for the most part he kept his anger relatively far from you. Now, with just the two of you alone— you were facing it head on.

The car is even more silent once he puts it in park on the Tannyhill drive. Both of his hands are on the steering wheel, knuckles split and bloody still from his attack, and you notice a speck of blood that didn’t belong to him on Rafes cheek, making you pout— fighting the urge to reach out and brush it away. Instead you stare, waiting for him to speak.

“You know, you — you really gotta be more careful with who you make friends with, baby. Look at this shit I… I had to beat his ass because of you bein’ too friendly. Me. I had to handle shit.” He bites, and you sink back into the seat, ashamed and upset. Perhaps he was right, maybe you did need to keep your wits about you more.

“Oh…” Is all you manage, sad and whiny like a kicked puppy. He licks his lips, shaking his head and finally turning his body to face you.

“What did I say about making friends with guys? Huh? Tell me what I said.” He tilts his head, blinking at you with wide impatient eyes as he waits for an answer. You suck in a shaky breath, wracking your brain for the last time you’d had this conversation.

“Um… I don’t—” You swallow thickly but it’s cut off by your boyfriend grabbing your jaw, forcing you to look at him. As if he’d hit some kind of panic button, two fat tears roll down your cheeks, bottom lip wobbling.

“What did I say?” He raises his voice and you let out a sad sob, sniffling as you try to compose yourself— speaking as clearly as you can.

“You— you said— any guy that approaches me doesn’t wanna be friends. He just…” You sniffle.

“He just what? Go on, finish that shit.”

“He just wants to fuck me.” You cry and he nods, letting go of your face to push his floppy, slightly sweaty bangs away from his face, puffing out a breath through his mouth.

“Get your ass inside.” He mutters, and you’re quick to do so, hopping up out your seat and to the front door, fumbling for your obnoxious keychains in your shoulder bag.

He follows closely once you’re by the door, oddly gentle hands on your waist from behind that guide you all the way to the stair case, giving your ass a pat as he sends you off to his room. You’re standing pathetically when he enters a moment or so after you.

You clasp your hands at your front, the picture of innocence. You weren’t crying anymore, but still looking devastated by Rafes unfortunate mood. He approaches you, looming over you with an unreadable expression and you yearned to reach out and touch the warmth of his skin through his shirt, or to kiss his naturally flushed lips— but you wanted to be a good girl for him. Make things right.

“Y’know the polite thing to do is apologise, sweetheart.” He drawls and you nod vigorously, words taking a moment to find you.

“M’sorry daddy! Really didn’t mean—”

“Actions…” He cuts you off, eyes fluttering. He places two hands on your bare shoulders. “Speak louder than words. Understand?”

“Huh?” You pout, and he presses on your shoulders just a little.

“You know what to do. On your knees.” One hand leaves you, beginning to work at his belt making you have a Pavlovian-like reaction, mouth filling with drool. You realise you’re just staring and he blinks at you. “What are you waiting for, huh? Now, please.”

You quietly drop, shuffling to get as comfortable as possible and begin eagerly fumbling to help with his belt, blinking up at him with wet doe eyes. You were surprised to see that your boyfriend was already hard — not just a halfie as things begin, fully hard. Maybe something to do with the adrenaline, maybe he thought you were sexy when you cried— who knew.

His pants drop to his ankles and he widens his stance a little, licking over his sore lips and softly grasping the back of your head, easing you closer to press kisses to his covered cock. Your need to please got the better of you and you impatiently tugged off his boxers too, starting to leave a trail of glossy pink kiss prints all over him as you let out your own moan of relief.

You were thrilled he was letting you do this. You didn’t like arguing, never able to think of the right words and always crying too much just like a baby. You couldn’t stay cross with Rafe, you simply loved him too much — so you were happy to skip all the hard parts and head straight to the end, where you got to make it all better and earn his forgiveness. Rafe was always happy after you gave him head, especially when you worked super hard, giving him plenty of attention where he needs it. You couldn’t wait to watch him relax.

It wasn’t long before you had the tip of his cock bruising your throat, spit bubbling at the corners of your mouth when you gag around him, trying your very best to get him to cum. It seemed he was close, letting out quiet groans and even stroking your cheeks with his thumbs soothingly which was your favourite thing he did. Your nose twitches, sore and watery as you pull back once more — gazing up at him with gloopy eyelashes and flooded eyes, all sweetly, searching for his approval. He gives you a lazy smile and it’s enough to encourage you to head back down to take him as deep as he’ll go.

You clutch his balls and massage as you deep throat him once more, and this time — the burning of your mascara infiltrating your eyes gets too much to handle and you close them, squeezing them tight as you pull back ever so slightly to work your tongue over his shaft. You’re met with a light slap on the jaw, causing your eyes to spring open— staring up all wide like you’d been caught with a hand in the cookie jar instead of wrapping round his ballsack.

“Open your eyes, yeah— fuckin’ look at me. Good girl.” He grits his teeth, and you know he must be close. You keep sucking until he’s milked dry, Rafes pretty bunny and her favourite carrot — swallowing every drop he had to offer.

All is forgiven, and the incident is forgotten about within a few weeks. It was a hectic time, Rafe barely having the time to bring up something that seemed so menial whilst dealing with the death of his father and the feud between his sister and the ‘pogues’ he always seemed to complain about. Rafe seemed to believe there was something gold that he was owed, a cross or something like that. You wasn’t sure. You’d only picked up enough information through overhearing phone calls to his old dealer Barry, in which he’d promptly close the door to obstruct your thoughtless eavesdropping when he’d realise you might be listening.

He seemed to have moved on very quickly from his father’s demise. Oddly enough, his grieving period only seemed to last a few days. You didnt press him on it, it didn’t feel right to do so. You’d learnt from some reality TV show about rich housewives that sometimes when someone loses a person close to them, they don’t even act that sad at all because they don’t want to deal with the big feelings. You wondered if that’s how Rafe was feeling. However, you couldn’t help but also wonder if your boyfriend was in a way relieved to finally be the man of the house. Maybe that’s why he’d started wearing some of Ward’s clothes, demanding you call him ‘dad’ more often.

♪ ‘WHEN I SUCK IT I LOOK IN YOUR EYES

YOU BETTER FUCK ME LIKE YOU MEAN IT!’ ♪

You hum along happily the song you’d grown so fond of playing from the AUX of Rafes truck. Saturday, your favourite day of the week. Your boyfriend had been doing a lot of stuff, lately. Going to a lot of places without you. There was something secretive about the way he’d disappear into his father’s office with Barry, ‘handling business’ for hours and hours on end. Again, it became clear that all of this kerfuffle was clearly about the mysterious gold you’d hear about. Honestly, you didn’t care to ask questions. The only gold you cared about was the glitzy gold chain delicately wrapped around your ankle, a sparkling ‘RC’ pendant dangling off it, Rafes initials. You stretch your leg out in the car, admiring the way it hangs off your smooth limb.

He could spend all week handling business and getting shit done, but Saturdays? They were your days. Days and nights spent out together, always winding up back at your place where he’d stay round. You always had a free house at the weekends, so what better way to spend it than wailing into a pillow with your boyfriend balls deep inside of you?

The journey is cut short when Rafe slowly pulls up outside your house, putting it in park and yet making no move to even remove his seatbelt. You look out the window at the familiar setting before whipping round to look at him in confusion, batting your fluffy eyelashes.

“I’m… afraid you’re gonna be on your own tonight, bun.” He scratches his cheek, a guilty habit you were usually too flustered to pick up on.

“Huh?” You mewl, brows furrowing, body sinking down into the seat in refusal. “But… it’s Saturday. Did you forget, silly?” You pout, your words doing nothing to convince either of you that he had simply forgotten.

“I’ve got business to handle tonight. Really important stuff that you cannot get involved in. Okay? Need you to be at home, and stay out of it alright?” He’s serious, wide eyed and speaking slowly to ensure not a drop of information slips away from you as you blink at him all lost and sweet. He didn’t like disappointing you, and sure — he would rather spend his evening with his dick nestled in your wet warmth, but this was something that had to be done— whatever it was.

“But Rafe—” You go to protest, but he cuts you off with a firm hand on your jaw stopping your speech all together.

“Alright?” He searches your eyes for confirmation. The way he grabbed you reminded you of the time he was mad at you, and if he was really going to leave you lonely tonight — you figured it was best you leave things on a positive note and behave yourself. You blink sulkily at him and nod.

“Yes, dad.” You sigh out your nose and his expression softens, nodding in approval with a small smile.

“Thats my good girl.” He uses his grip on your jaw to pull you in, delivering a sloppy kiss to your lips and even rewarding you with the wet warm muscle of his tongue rolling over yours a few times for good measure — yet pulling away before you got too needy, because then he knew you’d never let him leave.

You’ll admit, you started to huff and puff once you’d left his side. It was Saturday, your Saturday — and maybe you were spoiled, but going out for brunch with your boyfriend and then having him drop you home was not nearly enough to satisfy your needs, especially after he’d been gone so frequently lately. You’d gotten yourself into quite a mood, nearly stomping right past the package that had arrived through your door.

You tear it open, alone in your house and for a brief moment your face lights up — the new butt plug Rafe had purchased for you online after you’d begged and begged sat in the cardboard box. Much like your other one, it was a bunnies tail— but instead of pink, the obnoxious puff on the end was fluffy and white, like a real Easter bunny. Your grin melts off your face right back into a sullen pout when you remember that Rafe wasn’t here to help you put it in, or play with it, or tell you how pretty it looks in your ass. You stomp your foot, anklet jangling. This wasn’t fair.

The sun goes down after hours upon hours of boredom, and you try to preoccupy yourself. You redo your hair all pretty, you fix up your makeup, you play dress up in your closet. The new plug is slicked up between your fingers, your bottom lip tugged between your teeth as you ready yourself. You never had to put your own bunny tail in, Rafe was always around to do it for you — have you sprawled over his lap, his hand pulling your cheeks apart and saying “Good job, stop tensing up would you?” You’re squirmy and whiny all alone, upset and petulant about the fact he wasn’t around. You felt… what was the word again? Neglected.

You press your cheek to your pristine bed covers, arching your ass in the air with an arm snaked uncomfortably round yourself, the difficult angle making it hard to push your tail in. You groan at the stretch from the cool metal, pussy drooling as your eyes flutter closed and you imagine your boyfriend doing it all for you, as intended. When it was snugly pressed inside of you, you giggle hazily — waving it in the mirror to get a good view. Pretty, you can almost hear his voice tell you how pretty that tight ass is, and you yearn to hear it in person.

You decided you weren’t going to take no for an answer. Rafe needed you, you knew it — perhaps he’d been isolating himself to deal with his big feelings, and you couldn’t take it any longer. You’d come to the decision that you were going to dress up so sweetly for him, march over there and make him feel all better with the warm embrace that was your cunt— or your mouth, or even your hand. Whatever your man needed, you would deliver.

You slide on some white, lacy lingerie. When you’d purchased it, you’d hoped it would remind him of wedding-wear, planting the idea that he should totally marry you, put a big glittery rock on your finger. Something that signified that he never, ever wanted to lose you. It was bunny-like in nature too, a hole slotted in the panties especially to fit the puff of your bunny tail through it— perfectly cohesive with your whole look. You’re quick to drag on more white, taking the form of a tight crop top and a skirt that unsurprisingly barely covered the fold of your ass cheeks where your thighs begin. In no time, you’re tottering down the street in kitten heels, clutching your purse to your side. You’d decided to walk— and by decided, you meant you didn’t have much choice — bound to being Rafe’s pretty passenger princess, full time.

An all white outfit was innocent, virginal, wedding-like. He couldn’t say no to you like this, surely not— you convince yourself as you stride street to street beneath the lights of street lamps. Kildare was safe, you seemed to think so anyway. Rafe disagreed, said there was lots of stuff you didn’t know— but you’d never seen anything too bad with your own two eyes.

Half way into your journey, your quiet muttering to yourself going over what you’d say when you got to Tannyhill was interrupted by your surroundings suddenly being tainted with a flashing blue and red glow. The rumble of a car pulling up beside you alerts your attention and you whip around to look, being met with the concerned gaze of Shoupe in his Sheriff car.

“Hi officer.” You wave politely.

“Can I ask what you’re doin’ wandering the streets at night by yourself? Not safe to be walkin’ about with next to nothing on, young lady.” He appears stern and your brows furrow, wondering if you’re in trouble. You hadn’t been questioned by a police officer before, they had come sniffing around after Wards death, but Rafe was always there to answer all the tricky questions for you. You whimper like a confused puppy.

“I—I missed my boyfriend so I wanted to go n’see him.” You whine, fists balled nervously at your side. It probably didn’t help that you were already riled up, so this was just immediately too much for you.

Shoupe recognised Rafe Cameron as your boyfriend and his eyebrows raise, purely at the fact that whilst he respected the Cameron family — he couldn’t fathom missing a spoilt brat like that.

“You know I got a niece of my own, about your age — I wouldn’t be lettin’ her walk the streets like this alright? Why don’t you give someone a call? Where are your parents?” He shakes his head, and now you’re super fed up.

“I don’t — am I in trouble? I had to walk because I failed my driving test and— and my parents go away on weekends I— I just miss my boyfriend and I want to go to his house! I don’t understand why you’re asking me stuff—” You start to cry, stomping a mini heel on the ground making the officer sigh, closing his eyes for a moment regretting stopping all together.

“Not my circus, not my monkeys. Don’t get paid enough for this crap.” He mutters to himself before opening his eyes and plastering on a forced smile and leaning his elbow out the open window. “‘Know what? Don’t you worry that head, young lady. Be safe, I’ll let you get on with it.” He waves before pulling out the parking space, leaving you waving him off tearfully— continuing your journey.

You wipe your tears, happy that you’re finally approaching Tannyhill— not long now until you’re back in your boyfriend’s arms. Sure, you were directly disobeying his one rule to stay home and mind your business tonight, but it wouldn’t be the first punishment you’d faced from Rafe — and the thought of having his hands on you in any way was delightful — so you’d be more than happy to pay the price.

Your shoes crunch carefully down the drive, blinking up at the grand historical home before you. You always loved being there. Being at Tannyhill with Rafe made you feel like he was the president and you were his first lady, ruling over Kildare in your very own White House. The fantasy whisks you away for a moment, and it takes you a couple of slow seconds to realise no one has responded to your knock at the front door. You wiggle the handle, and for once — it doesn’t open. You frown. Rafe was home, right?

You hum in confusion, trailing around to each window — looking for any signs of life as you call his name. “Rafey, are you home? It’s me…” You all but whine, growing increasingly more frustrated. Had you really walked all that way in the dark for nothing?

You puff out a dramatic breath, gathering yourself. Take a look around, you command yourself — use your big girl brain for once. Rafes truck was on the drive, and the lights were on in the house — so you figured it was fair to assume he was indeed home. The only thing out of place was the large van parked haphazardly on the drive. It wasn’t unheard of for unknown vehicles to be at Tannyhill. All sorts of people were in and out the gates for transport purposes whenever Ward would find something new and extravagant to auction off— but Ward wasn’t around anymore, and something tickled your curiosity enough to step towards it, questioning what it contained.

The large back doors are left ajar, so nosily you tiptoe over— fingers wrapping around one to pry it open some more, standing on the toes of your kitten heels to look at what would remain inside. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust, and for a few seconds you’re not met with anything of interest. Boxes, crates— nothing extraordinary. Your eyes drop down to the floor of the van, and you freeze. Surely not.

The body of a man lies dormant in a pool of distinctive crimson. He’s frozen up, like he’s scared or had been turned into a statue. His skin is pale, and his eyes are open— unblinking. You hadn’t seen many bad things in your life, hell— Rafe had even put you on a restriction from horror movies because you just couldn’t handle them — but what you were looking at was unmistakable. You were staring at a dead body.

You draw in a shaky gasp, and a heat wave of panic overcomes your body. It begins in your chest, and spreads through you like a virus — to your stomach, and then your arms and legs all the way to frozen stiff fingers and toes. You jerk back, hand flying up to cover your mouth as you stumble back a few steps, fresh hot tears brewing in your waterline. “Oh my g—”

Your whimper is cut short, the sound punched right out of you when you back up into something hard and firm. You jump out of your skin, yelping as what you walked into sprouts arms and whips you around at lightening speed to face it. Rafe, your boyfriend holds you infront of him, enraged. For the first time in your life, he terrifies you. “Told you to stay home, kid.” He spits out before spinning you back around and manhandling you into a lift, arms round tightly around you as he lifts you off the ground.

You go to scream, you even go to run— from your own boyfriend, something even a few moments prior you wouldn’t be able to fathom. He only grips you tighter, and this time covers your mewling mouth with a firm hand as he wrestles you inside, dragging you through the house.

As he tugs your flailing, panicking body up the stairs — you catch sight of Rose who lingers on the stairwell, watching with wide eyes.

“Rafe? Rafe what did she see?” She hisses urgently, alarmed by the way her step-son was handling his girlfriend.

“I’m handlin’ it.” He drawls out, seemingly irritated by her presence as he pushes you down the hallway.

“Don’t hurt her, Rafe.” Hurt her?

He all but launches you into the bedroom and you fly away from him, on the verge of hyperventilation. You paw at your eyes, wiping away the tears as you sniffle watching his every move. He moves slower now, locking the door which causes your heartrate to spike once more.

“Why the hell are you here?” He blinks at you irritably. “Huh? After I specifically told you to stay home.”

“I missed you.” You cough out a wet sob, trying to gather your thoughts enough to ask the valuable questions. Like, what was going on? Who was the dead body?

“You missed m— so we’re just… disregarding my rules now. The — the shit I tell you to keep you safe? Keep you out of allllll the dirty work I gotta do to keep shit afloat?” He’s mad, squinting and shaking his head.

“Did you kill that man?” You raise your voice ever so slightly, coming right out with it. The forwardness shocks you, but Rafes expression simply flattens, shoulders dropping a little before he sighs, shaking his head with his hands on his hips.

“No, I didn’t.” He makes a point to emphasise the ‘I’, which only reels you off into more confusion. “But… it’s my problem now. A’ight? So — so I gotta step up and handle it alright, look at — hey, look at me baby— okay, I’m a proactive person — I — I was handed a problem, and now I’m fixin’ it. Me. You understand that?” He’s walked right over to you now, and you’ve backed up away until your legs hit his bed causing you to sit down with a bounce. He crouches over you as he rambles, a hand on your shoulder to keep your attention. He has thrown a lot of information your way, and you try to follow along — eyes wide and head shaking slightly in response.

“Rafe— you’re scaring me. That person was dead you — you have to tell the police! I saw Shoupe on the way here, even talked to him — why — why don’t you just call him up n’tell him?” You whimper, breath catching in your throat between every couple of words.

Your boyfriend stands up straight suddenly, blinking like he’d been snapped out of his wide, watery eyed trance.

“You— you saw— what do you mean you saw Shoupe on the way here?” He glares and you shrink, feeling like you’ve done something wrong but not quite knowing what.

“He stopped me on the way here n’I told him I was comin’ to see you.” You pout.

“Oh, that’s…” He begins to pace, before barking out a soft laugh, hand rising to scratch his cheek. “Yeah that’s uh, that’s perfect really.”

You tilt your head, jostling your hoop earrings in the act. “What are you talking about?” You felt nervous for his answer, and unsure as to why that was.

He stops his incessant pacing, turning to you with an amused and yet somewhat deranged grin. “You’re in this now, baby. You n’me.” He gestures to the two of you with a finger as he slowly prowls closer. “So— so Shoupe knows you were on the way here at,” he lifts his arm, checking the watch beneath his Northface fleece. “Around this time frame. Right? So really…” He closes in on you fully once more, bending at the waist to look at you eye to eye. “If… if you turn me in, we’re goin’ down together. How’s that sound, huh— think you could handle jail baby? You think they do mani-pedis in prison?” He jokes, smirk only growing when your eyes widen. He was being cruel.

“Stop! I— I would never tell on you Rafey!” You start to cry again, and he nods slowly in approval, licking his lips. “Don’t wanna get locked up.”

“Yeah, well. All you gotta do is keep that pretty mouth shut. Think you can do that for me baby? Think you could… keep this little secret just for me?” Even now, he had a way with words. He made you feel special, like teaming up with him was something to be so proud of. There’s a warmth in your chest from the way he speaks to you, but a pit in your stomach at the guilt from feeling this way. You were dizzy with conflict.

“S’just too much, daddy. I dunno, what if I make a mistake? Just so dumb sometimes.” You sniffle, going to cover your face but he bats your delicate hands out the way with his own palms, cupping your cheeks to force your attention on him.

“Hey, hey. Gotta… use that bunny brain sometimes baby. Yeah? Gotta think about what might happen… if anyone finds out.” His voice softens with each word, invading your personal space until his warm breath fanned over your face comfortingly. He had a way of breaking you down to something so regressed and yet primal, pure putty in his criminal hands. Somewhere in the back of your hazy brain you felt this might be a tactic to get you on his side with all of this, but the words wouldn’t find you. “You’re my good girl, alright? Know you can do it…” His lips softly press to yours, and he starts to kiss you slowly, sensually, like he had all the time in the world.

You get lost in the kiss, it’s only natural — with the way his tongue wrapped itself skilfully around yours. He finds himself sat on the bed beside you, pulling you to perch on his leg as you succumb to the makeout session. He was really good at it, so talented at getting you wet and squirmy with just his mouth on yours. It feels like ten minutes of this have possibly passed by when your brain starts to ring out the alarm bells once more, warning you of your predicament. Your heart starts to pound and you pull back a little, eyes shiny and wide as they gaze into his lustful pair.

“M’scared.” It comes out quiet and he shakes his head, in total refusal of this.

“Shh, shh. How ‘bout you turn that brain off for a while. Yeah? Let me handle it.”

You suck in a shaky breath, swallowing thickly as you try to keep the panic at bay in his tight hold. “Can’t.”

“Yeah. You can. Can start by taking all these clothes off.” He drags his hands over your body, messing up the fabric in its wake. “Came over just lookin’ all pretty… would hate to ruin a night like this, right?” He talks slowly like you’re dumb and it only makes you ooze more, finding yourself nodding eagerly, sniffing back the tears and hopping onto your feet to kick off the kitten heels, dropping an inch or so in height.

Rafe tugs your skirt down as you pull your top over your head, and he hums in appreciation at the white lace adorning your body. “Mm, s’fuckin’ sexy.” He whispers, turning you by your hips to do a little spin for him, not able to help himself from giving your ass a sharp little smack and jiggle when he spots the new bunny tail poking through. “This one’s new, huh?” He drawls, giving it a little tug making your knees buckle, turning to clamber back onto his leg.

“Mhm.”

“Yeah. Wanna keep these on, yeah?”

You nod, and he’s kissing you again, handsy as ever as he caresses your soft skin. He’s being nice, for now. It usually started off this way before he’d get too impatient but you knew he was being extra nice for the purpose of persuading you to side with his unforgivable actions. Your criminal boyfriend drags his hand down your stomach, two finger pads rubbing circles over your clit through the lace making you groan out a cracked and desperate sound against him.

“Turn around.” He whispers, aiding you to sit between his legs, leaning back against him. Once in this compromising position, he peels your soaked underwear to the side— sliding his fingers through your messy folds. “God damn, weren’t lyin’ when you said you missed daddy— that right?”

“Just… just missed you so much.” Your eyes flutter shut, and you do find yourself relaxing more and more against his warm body, a clammy hand clutching the zip of his grey fleece, shuddering from his skilful touch.

After stroking your clit, causing you to clench and cream around nothing for a while, desperate moans sure to be heard by Rose if she was worriedly lurking in the hallway, Rafe started to push his thick fingers in, humming and licking his lips hungrily as your greedy hole swallowed him up, the long digits squelching from your copious tsunami of arousal.

“Oh daddy!” Is all you can say as he curls them just right, working you quickly towards your finishing point. As you drop into that Rafe-obsessed headspace, nearly at the crowning of your orgasm— his deep nasally voice rumbles from behind you, attracting your attention. As he speaks, he pulls his fingers back just so only the tips still remained inside you, and kept them there even when you wriggled your hips trying to get them in further.

“So… what are you gonna say if someone asks you where you were tonight? Huh?” His voice carries a threatening tone, which makes you pout at how totally unfair of him it was to work you into brainless mush and then ask you such an important question.

“I— uhm, I don’t—” You whimper as you writhe in his lap. He pulls his fingers out of you completely and in one fluid movement slaps your pussy, causing you to cry out in sensitivity at the harshness on the cunt he had spread open on top of him.

“Where?” He grits his teeth and you pant.

“At home, daddy!”

He seems satisfied, and slowly he sinks his fingers back inside you, causing you to release a relieved whine, liquifying against his body once more. “See? Not as dumb as you look, bunny girl.”

The words cause tingles to run through your very being, and as he continues to finger fuck you— you’re brought very close to the edge, very soon.

“Mmph— dad, g’nna cum!”

“Yeah? Gonna cum just for dad?” He lilts sympathetically in response.

“Yeah!”

“Yeah?”

Just like that, he pulls his fingers out of you — and before you have the chance to complain or even let out a petulant whine, he’s forcing your mouth open and stuffing his soaked fingers inside, all the way down your throat.

You slap at his wrist, gagging wetly as he holds your head against him keeping him still. “Yeah, that fuckin’ hurt? They’ll do a lot worse to you in prison, sweetheart. Can tell you that for free.” He finger fucks your throat for a few quick beats before drawing them out, letting you suck in harsh breaths. He wipes his fingers on your cheek before giving it an affectionate pat. “Haven’t earned the right to cum just yet. You understand right?”

You sniffle, starting to cry again. This whole ordeal was clearly upsetting to you, and Rafe was just treating it like it was one big loyalty test. All you wanted was to be with him, kiss him, touch him — and he was just being so mean.

Your tears do nothing for your case. Suddenly and aggressively, your boyfriend grips the back of your neck and forces you down into the mattress on the bed, your ass lifted obscenely in the air — panties still forced to the side with your tail-stuffed hole and drooling pussy on full display to him. Glitter refracts off your cheek when you turn your head on the bed, trying to get a look at him.

“Would you look at that?” He twiddles with the fluffy tail and you groan, body softening slightly and pussy dribbling. “Doesn’t take much. Does it baby? Yeah. Dressed up all sweet for me, you uh—” He chuckles at the cruel joke before it leaves his mouth. “Wouldnt take you for an accessory to a crime.”

You let out a pitiful sob and his jaw ticks in irritation, leaning right over you, jostling you a little so he could talk right in your ear. “Quit. That guy you saw in the truck was a bad man, alright? Worlds better off without scumbags like him. I don’t… I don’t wanna hear you’re feelin’ all bad about it. I always make the decisions, right? Daddy always knows what to do, right?” He demands aggressively, spanking your ass hard when you don’t respond immediately.

“Yes daddy you— you always know!” You wail, distraught and he nods, lips parted and jaw slightly agape — fighting his belt off his body to yank his pants down just enough to pull his dick out.

As much as you enjoyed showing your tail off to Rafe, wiggling it against his pelvis, tickling his tanned skin with the fluff each time he draws his hips in — you were actually a little disappointed you weren’t getting to be on your back today. You craved the closeness, the kisses, getting to see his pretty cock collect all your glittery slick as he fucks into your glossy hole. Instead, he pushes in from behind and sets a punishing pace, balls slapping against you as he holds you down, forcing your arch into place. With each thrust, comes a quiet grunt of his own exertion — the days frustration being worked out on you.

This lasts for a few minutes, Rafe slightly changing things up like adjusting your position or putting a foot up on the bed to dig you out even deeper. Your cunt was so sloppy it was audible, squelching with each roll of his agile hips. From the way he had previously stolen your much needed orgasm, you could tell you weren’t going to last much longer, fucking desperately back against him as you sobbed.

“Shit, why you fuckin’ crying so much huh? This not enough for you, princess?” He taunts breathlessly, squeezing your hips for an answer.

“Miss you Rafe, want you— want you nice!” You’re shaky, forcing in a painful breath as you cry— mascara making a mess of his sheets but he didn’t care about that right now— too focused on the way your ass jiggled against him with each thrust. As perfect of a view this was, he couldn’t tolerate the tears and flipped you onto your back, forcing your legs up over his shoulders.

As he slots himself back in, he shakes his head— floppy hair sweaty, some of it stuck to his forehead. “There? Happy? Y’gonna stop cryin’ now, hm?” He drawls, speeding up his pace once more, indulging in the way your tits are escaping the lacy cups of your bra. He palms at them greedily, helping free them out the top and he disappears into your neck, groaning as he hits a new spot, your hole sucking him in like it had a mind of its own.

He sucks marks on your neck. Proof you were here, he thinks in the back of his mind. He draws back to admire his work and is met with your tear-stricken, devastated face. All pretty with doe like eyes, gloopy runny mascara framing them, a single mink lash on your cheek. He swipes it away, unable to control the urge to press his body right onto yours and envelop your lips with his own.

He sucks on your tongue, holding you there with a hand gently round your neck as he possesses you entirely. The continuous slapping sound of his cock bruising your insides becomes music to your ears as you float away on a cloud, eyes struggling to stay open from the sheer amount of pleasure you were facing. As he softly holds you by your throat, like a farmer handling its first baby bunny — he feels that remaining amount of tension coursing through you. That last inkling of resistance, even if you didn’t know it was there. He slows his pace, grinding his cock inside you, massaging the tension out.

“Oh, little girl. Poor bunny, huh?” He coo’s, cradling your shaking, clammy body as you whimper, puffy walls spasming around his length. “All caught up in big bad Rafe’s problems, aren’t you. Yeah… well, it’s okay. I got you baby. You’re never gonna lose me, okay? You’re all mine.”

With your bodies connected, you gaze up into his eyes. All his, the words you adored more than anything. Your eyes drift over to his left shoulder where your anklet swings with each jostle of your body. ‘R.C’, the initials catch the light through blurry tearful eyes. All his.

A hand snakes between you, and when he presses down on your clit — your body finally gives in and you squeeze out a gut wrenching moan, legs shaking violently as you grip him, cumming hard and abundantly around his slick cock. He’s talking you through it, rolling his hips determinedly as you cum. You briefly catch his voice groaning out a “Thats my good girl. S’me and you baby. Don’t you forget it. Me n’you.”

You squirt out around him, soaking his abdomen, and whilst you might usually be concerned and embarrassed— you can’t think straight enough to consider that. He doesn’t seem to mind either, fucking into you as he chases his own high, mumbling words you couldn’t hear into your neck or mouthing at the fat of your tits as he’s spurting out his own thick, hot release.

Everything feels dreamlike after that, from the way he pulls out and smothers your hot face in sloppy kisses — to the way he lazily mops you up with a towel. You can’t process the pleasure you endured, and soon you fall asleep right there on Rafe’s bed, hot and feverish.

It must’ve been a good few hours you slept for, because when you wake to the soft warm touch of your boyfriend and his rings gliding up your back— your bleary eyes find the clock at his bedside to read 5:30AM. Rafe is dressed differently to how he was before, a black shirt you recall noticing in your immediate vision. He’s scooping you in his arms, sitting you up as you let out a disorientated whine, having trouble letting your brain catch up.

One hand strokes your cheek, to keep you awake— and the other strokes the fat of your hip, self indulgently. “So turns out, we’re uh— goin’ on a little trip. You like vacations, huh?”

You blink your sticky eyes at him, hand grazing the buttons of his shirt as your voice attempts to croak out a response. “Rafe, what’s —” Your brain starts to catch up, an unfamiliar and harrowing feeling spreading through your stomach— sinister and dooming as you remember the events that occurred before he’d fucked you and gotten you to fall asleep on his bed. Where had he been? So many hours had passed.

He cuts you off with a smile, a relieved smile — like all his problems had vanished, the corpse you’d found having just gotten up and walked away.

“Goin’ on a big boat. How’d you feel about the Bahamas, baby?”

#rafe cameron fic 🎀#bunny!reader

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megwritesriddles · 2 months ago

Text

I Despise You ༊*·˚

18+ MDNI !!!

Pairing: Tom Riddle x Fem!Reader / You

Summary: Kinktober 2024 Day 1 - Angry Sex. Reader is the Head Girl and Riddle is the Head Boy, Riddle likes to push Reader's boundaries until it all boils over. Minimal plot but a smidge anyway.

Tags: Angry sex, P in V, Fingering (fem receiving), Unprotected sex, Magic as birth control, Enemies with benefits, Arguing (which is badly written oops), Attempt at angst, Tiny bit of sexism from Riddle, Reader is wearing a dress (I imagined one of those Sabrina Carpenter babydoll dresses lol), Head boy Riddle, Head girl Reader, Historical inaccuracy.

Word count: 3.4k

Read it on ao3! | Masterlist

Authors note: First installment of Kinktober and first post on tumblr!! woo!! please show me some love if you like it!! I am terrible at writing arguments because I hate confrontation irl oops!! Hope you like it anyway mwah ( ◕◡◕)っ ♡

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Being appointed as Head Girl was supposed to be the best thing to ever happen to you. You’d been working toward it since at least the third year and it was all you ever seemed to hope for. It was meant to be an achievement that you and your friends would all celebrate, perhaps head down to the Three Broomsticks and spoil you with free drinks for the night in honour of your achievement. But, life wasn’t so kind.

When your position as Head Girl was announced all you had received from your friends were pitying looks, all due to the pesky little detail of who had been announced as Head Boy to serve alongside you. Tom Riddle. Tom. Fucking. Riddle. Of course, Professor Dippett had had to announce his name first, meaning you hadn’t even gotten a second of enjoyment from your appointment. He had stood up smugly at the Slytherin table, basking in the cheers from his house, flashing a charming smile to the room as he made his way to the front of the hall. For the first time in your life, at that moment, you had prayed that Head Girl would not be you. It was. Your name was called, your house applauded and your legs carried you over to Riddle’s side. He grinned down at you, that little glint of mockery in his eye that you could only see from this close. You wanted to punch him, that would surely lose you the Head Girl position and solve this problem, but you had your future to think of. You had repeated that to yourself all that night as you and Riddle had been whisked off to the staff room to be briefed on your positions and given your badges. Riddle was the picture of charm, laughing with the various professors that came to speak with you, you just sat there, smiling falsely, looking a little like you’d just been hit over the head with a plank. You felt like it too. Your lifelong dream had just been turned into something poisonous. Really, you thought to yourself as Slughorn guided you through the corridors to the Head’s quarters, you should have seen this coming. They weren’t supposed to appoint two students from the same house, so logically, if you were picked for Head Girl, it was only ever going to be Riddle at your side. You wondered why you hadn’t considered this before, it was so obvious with hindsight. You scowled at the back of his and Slughorn’s heads as you ascended some stairs, them chatting together jovially, making your blood boil.

Slughorn shows you the small common room, enough seating for about four people, a fireplace, and a little kitchenette with some stools, decorated with opulence. It would all have been very nice if it hadn’t been for Riddle standing there commenting on the lovely brass crests. The separate rooms were your biggest comfort, both off of little halls from the common room in different directions. You could hide in there from him, you told yourself over and over. You didn’t have the headspace to be impressed by the beautiful ensuites with golden-tapped baths, just wanting Slughorn to leave so you would no longer have to listen to Riddle’s disgustingly smooth voice. Eventually, Slughorn did leave the two of you to go to bed. As he shut the common room door, you could see Riddle’s mouth opening from the corner of your eye. You darted to your room before he could get the words out, slamming the door, relieved to find all your things already there. You collapsed onto the bed and sighed. The nightmare was only beginning.

The hands on the clock point to 3:30 am. It’s a Monday morning, you have a meeting with Dumbledore in just a few hours, but sleep is impossible. He has friends over again. The deep bass of their voices reverberates through the walls of the common room. They’re chatting and laughing like always, most likely drinking too, you’ve spotted them with whiskey a few times. You seethe with anger in your bed, just last week you had kindly approached him, and not for the first time, about this issue. You had emphatically asked him to be considerate of you and your time. He had placated you like always.

“Yes darling, I didn’t realise we were being so bothersome, won’t happen again,” he had soothed, but of course, it was happening again right now. You kept somehow getting caught in his charms, the very ones you had been immune to for so long. It had to be the sleep deprivation he was causing, that was what was making you melt a little whenever he called you darling or smiled just so, in the way that used to make you feel sick. In the dark of your room, you lie on your side and curse inwardly. Reporting him had crossed your mind many times, but you knew he would just charm his way out of it, like he did with everything. Your ears rumble with another deep laugh from the group of men in the other room and you’ve had enough. Throwing off your duvet and stomping to your bedroom door, you fling it open and head into the common room. He sits reclined leisurely in an armchair by the fireplace, his sleeves rolled up and tie loose. His ankles are crossed, resting on the coffee table in front of him, he chuckles at something, you couldn’t care less what, the firelight dancing over his face. He hasn’t noticed you, but across from him on the opposite armchair, his friend, Avery, straightens up and grins at you. His eyes drift over you, you realise instantly that you stomped out here in only your nightgown and socks and flush lightly, but stand your ground.

“Riddle!” you bark, surprising even yourself with the viciousness of your tone. This brings his attention to you effectively. His other two friends turn to look at you over the back of the sofa, Riddle doesn’t even straighten up when he looks up at you, smirking in a self-satisfied way that makes your insides twist oddly.

“Hello darling,” he speaks smoothly. “You look a picture tonight,” he lets his eyes drift up and down your figure without shame. You go red with anger and embarrassment.

“Doesn't she just?” One of his friends, Rosier, comments with a mocking chuckle. This sets you off.

“Out!” You screech. All the boys look taken aback by the intensity of your outburst. “Out, out, out!”

“Fine,” Riddle hisses in an infuriatingly calm tone. “You lot should go, you heard the Head Girl,” you hear the mocking tone in his voice, suggesting he thinks you’re hysterical. You stand there with your fists clenched, staring the men down as they get up and head for the door, feeling ridiculous but not wanting to show any weakness. Once they all leave and shut the door behind them, the two of you fall into silence for a moment. He’s watching you, but not in the leering way from earlier, he almost looks impressed with you. You avert your eyes from the closed door onto his face, he’s leaning forward now, with his elbows on his knees. Just when you’re considering simply turning to leave, he speaks up. “Happy now, darling? You’re really no fun, we were only talking,” his eyes fix on yours, burning deeply. You scoff indignantly.

“It’s nearly 4 am Riddle, you know I have a meeting in the morning, I have brought this up to you countless times and–”

“Yes, but you don’t seem to understand that I simply don’t care to keep you happy, darling,” he grins. You let out a frustrated yelp.

“You are unbelievable! How were you ever chosen for Head Boy when you're this insidious? You don’t deserve it!” You snap. This stirs something in him. His eyes darken and he stands up from the armchair.

“And you do, do you darling?” he asks slowly, stalking toward you. “You’re the picture of perfection, aren’t you just?” You’re not sure what to say to this, any answer seems wrong like it’ll give him reason to dig into you further. Your mouth opens and shuts for a moment before you settle on a shrug. Your hands flex in the fists they’re tightened into as a smirk spreads over his face. “You don’t seem so high and mighty from here,” he chuckles, stopping in front of you. He has several inches on you and you’re forced to look up at him. “You look lovely in this little nightie,” he comments with a grin, reaching out to trace the lace at the strap with the tip of his finger. You jolt away instantly, glaring up at him.

“Don’t you dare touch me! And don’t you dare comment on my looks!” You hissed, smacking his hand away. His eyes darken even more at this.

“And don’t you dare smack me,” he growls. “I was merely paying you a compliment,”

“Like hell you were!” You scoff. “You’re trying to make me feel small,” he rolls his eyes, shaking his head.

“If the shoe fits,” he grins. You scowl, shoving at him without thinking about it. He stumbles back slightly, looking momentarily bewildered. When he realises what you just did he surges for you. He grabs you by the shoulders and pushes you into the wall. You let out a small oof sound as you collide with the wall, surprised it didn’t hurt more than it did. For a moment, you wonder if he had avoided hurting you until you look up and see the fire in his eyes, then you wonder if he wishes he had just killed you. “I would have rather had literally anyone as Head Girl than you, you are the bane of my existence,” he snarls, gripping your shoulders hard.

“I’m the bane of your existence? I don’t have friends over until the small hours of the morning! Imagine how I feel!” You spit back. You can tell he’s barely listening to you.

“You are insufferable! You’re the only person who doesn’t fawn over the sight of me and it’s you that I get stuck with for the whole year!” he scoffs. “I will not let you control my lifestyle!” he adds angrily. “I will not bend my life to make you happy! I am not subservient to anyone and I never will be!” you roll your eyes exaggeratedly.

“You are ridiculous,”

“I despise you,” he hisses venomously. “You’re always everywhere I am, you’re always following me around, tailing me in every subject, you had to go for this position when I’ve had my sights locked on it since first year!” He pushes you back into the wall again. “Are you happy now darling? You got Head Girl and now we’re both miserable! You must be thrilled!”

“You think I’m following you around?” you sneer. “How full of yourself are you that you think me going for Head Girl was about you? You seem to think you’re the centre of everything, but in my life Riddle, you are just an inconvenience, you are nothing,” you seethed. Something flashes in Riddle’s eyes, his jaw working.

“I am nothing?” he demands. “I am nothing?” he’s shaking now and you’re sure he’s about to hex you or punch you, his eyes flick between yours, his whole body coiled tight and ready to pounce. Instead, his lips are suddenly on yours, thrusting your head back against the wall. You yelp in surprise, your eyes wide, the back of your head hurting from being pressed into the hard surface. He kisses you without a single hint of affection, kissing you like it’s a punishment, a way of muzzling you, but Merlin, somehow it feels good. He’s grabbing at you, taking fistfuls of your nightgown in his hands. You find that you’re kissing him back, that you have been practically since his lips met yours and that you’re doing so eagerly. Your head is spinning as his arms wrap around you and he pulls you harshly to him, the hard planes of his lean body pressing against you. Your arms snake around his neck and he lets you yank at his hair. He’s kissing you so hard that you’re practically tipping backwards. Your tongues rub against each other as you kiss frantically. He’s leading you to the sofa, throwing you down and then settling above you. He props himself up, his hands on either side of your head. You both take this moment to catch your breaths, staring intensely at each other as your chests rise and fall rapidly. “Am I still nothing?” he growls, a little breathless. Once again, you don’t know what the right thing to say is. One of his hands moves down and starts to push up the hem of your nightdress, revealing your thighs to his devouring eyes. You grab him and kiss him again instead of talking, just as hard and unforgiving as before.

You feel your nightdress being bunched at your waist and hear the faint sound of a zip being pulled down. You kiss him harder, nipping at his bottom lip harshly and scrunching your eyes shut. He just groans in response, pushing down his slacks haphazardly, his other hand keeping him propped up above you. You’re suddenly awfully overheated, both from lying on the sofa in front of the blazing fireplace and from the realisation of what he’s planning to do to you. Are you really going to do this? Are you really going to let him fuck you on the sofa in the common room? Riddle? The man you’ve hated for years? The man who has been deliberately antagonising you for the past several weeks, and especially tonight? Your hands are resting on his stomach, and you connect the dots in mild horror that you’ve been unbuttoning his shirt without even realising it. You feel completely out of control of yourself, you’ve never acted this way before. You gasp in surprise when you feel his fingers pressing against your core through the fabric of your underwear. His fingers rub roughly, sending jolts of pain and pleasure through you. You whine slightly, feeling him smirk against your lips. You scratch at his chest a little in retaliation. He grunts, you can’t tell if he likes it or not and it bothers you. His fingers hook into your underwear and start to tug down. This is your last chance to back out, to throw him off of you and run away, but you find yourself unable to do anything but writhe and cling to his shoulders. The underwear is discarded on the floor and he is using his free hand to spread your thighs open, you flush deeply as he pulls away from the kiss to look down at you. You can feel how wet you are and you hate that, based on the smug little grin on his face, he knows it too. Your cheeks are burning as he reaches down, using two fingers to spread your folds. He lets out a needy sound by accident and it’s your turn to gloat. He flashes you a glare and plunges a finger into your tight heat in revenge. This makes your back arch and your lips part and he smirks back at you.

“So wet…” he comments, self-satisfied, his finger creating obscene squelches as he pumps it in and out of you slowly. You snarl at him, lashing out in embarrassment. You grab at the tent in his boxers, feeling him rock-hard under the fabric. He frowns in embarrassment, withdrawing his finger from you which makes you whimper a little. “You’re asking for it now, darling,” he growls. He’s scrambling to rid himself of his boxers. His tip is quickly prodding at your entrance and you gasp and arch slightly. He glides against you for a moment, his tip rubbing deliciously at your clit, seeming like he’s waiting for something. Then, he’s plunging into you. You let out a pathetic little cry and he grins. “Does that feel good?” he coos mockingly as he fully seats himself inside you. You both gasp for breath as your tight heat embraces him. It does feel good, torturously so, but his mocking tone irks you.

“I hate you,” you growl up at him as he lowers himself onto his elbows, his face right above yours. He scowls, panting slightly.

“I hate you too, believe me,” his arms wrap around your shoulders, keeping you in place. He buries his face in your neck and starts to nip as his hips begin to rock harshly. His thrusts are hard and punishing, slow, withdrawing almost completely and then slamming forward, just short of painful. You whine and grab at his back, letting your nails dig into him, he doesn’t seem to mind. He speeds up, grunting loudly against your neck. He pulls back to watch as you move along with his thrusts, your eyes scrunched shut and lips parted with desperate whines. He pants, his hot breaths washing over your face. He speeds up even more, growling like a crazed animal. “Look at you, falling apart under me, what would your friends think?” he taunts. Your eyes squeeze tighter shut, a wave of shame passing through you that somehow heightens your pleasure.

“Shut the fuck up,” you whine. You hear him laughing mockingly. You muster your strength and clench your walls around him. His laugh morphs into a choked groan at the sensation, his hips stuttering. He was more affected by this than you expected, his pace now brutal as he fucks into you, clearly desperately chasing release now, rather than focusing on playing mind games on you. His lips meet yours again and you kiss back. It’s clumsy and sloppy, given how fast he’s moving, but it just heightens everything you’re feeling. “You gonna come already?” you mock as you feel him faltering in his thrusts. He groans angrily against your lips.

“I despise you,” he hisses shakily, propping himself back up so he can thrust into you more relentlessly. You return the sentiment, but it’s a little half-hearted now between whines. You cry out when you feel his thumb on your clit, rubbing hard. He seems oddly determined to have you orgasm before he does, perhaps to humiliate you, but it feels so good that you can hardly complain. He grunts loudly, you can tell he’s trying to goad you, but his speech is incoherent between sounds of pleasure and the slapping of skin against skin. You feel it building up and you can’t deny yourself the pleasure, you don’t try to hold back. However, he still falls apart first. His hips stutter then stop entirely and he groans loudly, you feel his seed spilling deep into you, warm ropes painting your inside. His thumb doesn’t let up its rubbing and it allows you to also reach your release. You pulse around his oversensitive cock and he gasps and whines pathetically, but continues rubbing you through it until all the aftershocks are over.

He remains propped above you, catching his breath for a while, his head hung low. You both whine slightly as he withdraws from you slowly, leaving you with a pop. He takes a shaky breath, staring at his essence that trickles out of you. You just stare at the ceiling, unsure what to do now. You feel the sofa dip as he reaches down to the floor, his chest touching yours as he lowers himself gently. He grabs his wand from his trouser pocket and props back up. He mumbles a spell, cleaning you of his essence and eliminating the chance of pregnancy. It pleases you a little that he took care of it, rather than leaving it up to you. He moves, sitting back on his haunches between your legs, lowering the hem of your nightdress to cover you back up. You stare at each other silently for a moment as he tucks himself away.

“This changes nothing between us,” he asserts, narrowing his eyes at you. You want to laugh at that, as clearly everything has just changed in some way, but you know what he means.

“Yeah, it changes nothing,” you repeat with a sigh. He glances over at the fireplace for a moment, before his eyes flick to the clock on the mantelpiece.

“Now chop chop, don’t you have that meeting with Dumbledore?” he grins. Your eyes widen and then you kick at him in frustration, realising what he’s done. He just laughs. “You better figure out a way to cover those hickeys quickly,” he smirks. You whine indignantly, burying your head in your hands.

“I’m going to kill you!”

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xoxoxo

769 notes · View notes

gay-dorito-dust · 10 months ago

Note

hmmm just imagine Jason Todd with a girlfriend pretty and kind like an angel and everyone is just shocked because 'how they're a couple??"

Think I went a little of ask for this one 😂 🦦

Jason calls you his angel for a reason.

You’re sweet, you’re kind, you’re downright beautiful/gorgeous and withheld an equally sweet, kind soul that bleeds through everything that you did or said. When you met Jason he was on the cusp of unconsciousness, finding him just slumped at your front door, severely injured. Anyone else who knew better would’ve left him but no, not you. You brought him -THE RedHood- into your house and home out of the kindness of your heart and patched him up as best as you could.

Heaven sent is another name of endearment that Jason called you and it held true on a plethora of occasions where he would find himself being dragged back at your doorstep, and it wasn’t long after that did Jason finally allow himself to pursue a chance at happiness by your side, and he’d be damned if it wasn’t the best decision he’s ever made in his entire life because being with you had been nothing short of a dream for Jason. A dream he never thought he’d get to live with the fucked up ordeal of having came back from the dead.

However when his family manages to catch wind of this because nothing stays secret for long, not by a long shot, their first thought was; how?

This wasn’t a slight towards Jason or his character but they couldn’t help but feel as though they’ve blinked and missed something extremely pivotal for this to have become the end result. They weren’t the only one to share this sentiment though as even Jason would be taken aback by your differences and often wondered if you were too different for your relationship to work.

It does however and it was one of the only times where Jason was grateful for being wrong for getting inside his own head, and just before he possibly ruins the best thing that has ever happened to him in a long, long while by self sabotage too. God only knows how much Jason would’ve hated himself for doing such a heinous thing to someone as underserving of such treatment as you.

So when Dick asks him one day ‘how did you manage to get someone like them?’ Whilst gesturing to you as you talked with the likes of Duke, Stephanie and Cass and getting along. Jason couldn’t think of a clear answer that would be enough to satisfy his brother’s curiosity because how was he meant to answer that question without it sounding generic and unoriginal.

‘Did you use any offhanded tactics to get them to be in a relationship with you?’ Damian asks and Dick gives him a look, only for the younger of the two of them to shrug his shoulders. ‘It was only a simple question Grayson.’

‘Yeah, just not one you ask when your brother comes home for the first time in months, and in a relationship nonetheless with the epitome of sweetness.’ Dick replied before looking over to Jason who was looking over at you with soft yet protective look on his face, but before Dick could say anything about how nothing was going to happen to you whilst in the Wayne Manor, Jason had already found the answer he has been looking for the entire evening.

‘They saved me.’ In the moment he said those words you looked over at him, Dick and Damian and smiled brightly that it never failed to knock the air out of Jason’s lungs upon seeing it. His angel, his heaven sent, the face he is blessed to see first and last thing in the mornings and late nights where he gently scolds you for staying up for him before kisses you in gratitude for doing so anyway.

Dick seemed content with this answer and meanwhile Damian looked visibly indifferent, he made a noise that said that he was also satisfied with this answer, just in time too as you came over to Jason and subtly held his pinkie with your own as you kissed his cheek. ‘You didn’t to tell me how cool your siblings were Jay!’ You began when Dick decided to join in on it too as he looked as Jason, betrayed. ‘You didn’t? Why not? Is it because you want your lovely partner to always be biased towards you?’ He pouts.

You chuckled and patted Jason on the bicep as you addressed Dick. ‘I’m always going to be bias towards my Jason.’ You admitted, causing a wave of warmth to flood Jason’s entire body upon hearing your confident confession. ‘For he is simply the best man I have ever met and that will never change.’

‘Never?’ Dick asked.

‘Never.’ You answered.

‘Even if he may be in the wrong sometimes?’ Damian asked this time and you shrugged, still smiling. ‘Not all of us are perfect beings and that’s a reality I’d accept rather than one where we’re all without flaw, physical or otherwise.’ Jason felt as though he might combust from your words alone but managed to compose himself enough to press a kiss to your temple to whisper against it. ‘Thank you baby.’

‘Anything for you Jaybirdie.’ You responded in kind, feeling him take hold of your hand, intertwining your fingers together as you rested your head against his bicep as you both continued to talk with Damian and Dick.

Yours and Jason’s relationship may not be what many expected it to be or make logical but why should it when you and Jason were more than happy together?

#jason todd x you #jason todd imagine #jason todd fluff #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagines #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd fic #dc x y/n #dc x you #dc comics x reader #dc x reader #dc imagine #dc fic #dc fanfic #dc fanfiction

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tini5 · 3 months ago

Text

In Paris, With You...

Pairing : Drew Starkey x Reader

Summary : What starts as a playful tease from your best friend, Timothée about a crush quickly turns into an unforgettable night. Being invited to the Loewe fashion show in Paris, leads you to get tangled in your sheets with Drew.

Themes : Fluff/Smut

Word Count : 4346

Note : I am apologizing in advance bc it's my first time writing a fic that long, along with first attempt at writing smut and for drew in general!!! I tried my best, even tho i think i wrote more about timmys and taylors relationship i hope you enjoy!! Not proofreaded!!

"I wish you would get invited to Loewe’s fashion show in Paris,” Timothée said, his lips curling into a playful smile as he picked at a piece of sushi on his plate. The familiar hum of the restaurant around you made the moment feel even more personal, like the world outside was a distant dream, a comfortable quiet between you, only interrupted by the clinking of plates as the waiter brought over a fresh round of sushi.

Your place—our place, you thought—was a small, hidden sushi restaurant in New York, a cozy spot where you two came to unwind, laugh, and share stories you couldn’t share with anyone else. It was a place you and Timothée had claimed as your own since your careers first took off. A lot has changed since then. Starring in Luca Guadagnino’s movie “Challengers” and seeing your career take off at just 22, was truly amazing.

He leaned in with a mischievous glint in his eyes, narrowing them at you like he was about to reveal a grand secret. “That way, you could meet your lover boy,” he teased, adding a dramatic hand movements with his chopsticks.

You rolled your eyes, but there was no hiding the flush creeping up your neck. “You want me to go to Loewe’s show just because of Drew starkey? I don’t even like him like that.”

Timmy raised an eyebrow, the smirk widening. “Lies, lies, lies,” he sang, his voice dripping with mock accusation. You hated how well he knew you—sometimes better than you knew yourself.

“Whatever,” you muttered, stabbing at your own sushi defensively as you put down your chopsticks. “Do you know who’s the brand ambassador of Loewe?”

The shift in Timothée’s expression was instant, his face scrunching up in a mix of guilt and annoyance, as if he knew exactly where this conversation was heading. He sighed dramatically, but before he could stop you…-

“The most gorgeous woman you fumbled because of you know who – the one who shall not be named,” you said, letting the word her hang in the air, dripping with emphasis.

There was no need to explain further. He knew exactly who you meant. You watched as his shoulders sagged slightly, but the smirk stayed on his face, though now it was more resigned than mischievous.

“Low blow,” he muttered, and you both burst into laughter, the memory of his ill-fated relationship hanging between you like a shared joke.

Who knew that Timothée’s big mouth could sense the future? But here you were, sitting in a car, watching the skyline of Paris blur past as you headed toward Loewe’s fashion show. It was almost too surreal, the memory of that sushi restaurant conversation lingering in the back of your mind.

You glanced over at Timmy, who was typing something on his phone, his thumb moving in rapid, practiced motions. He looked up for a second and grinned. "See? I told you. Here we are, ready for your lover boy," he teased, leaning back in his seat, eyes glinting with mischief.

You couldn’t stop the eye roll that followed. "I swear, you have an obsession with that phrase. But we don't even know if he'll be there."

"You hope he’ll be there," Timmy quipped, nudging your shoulder playfullly.

You tried to suppress a smile, but it was useless. Yes, you hoped. Drew Starkey had become a quiet fixation in your mind—there was something about him that you couldn’t shake off. Maybe it was his blue eyes, his charisma, his –

Your hands smoothed over the fabric of your dress, custom-made by Loewe, every stitch and detail meticulously crafted to perfection. Jonathan Anderson had made sure it reflected not only the brand’s style but also you—soft yet bold, striking but elegant. You looked stunning, and you knew it.

The car ride felt both too long and too short, your mind spinning with what-ifs. Timmy, noticing your quiet, serious for once, put his phone away and turned to face you. "Hey," he said gently. "We can ditch it if you want. No fashion show and no boy is worth you eating your nerves over."

You smiled softly at him. That was the thing about Timothée—he knew when to be playful, and he knew when to be serious. He knew you. "I know," you said, your voice quiet but steady. "But I’ll be fine. Besides, you’d be miserable if you missed the after party later.”

Timmy shrugged with a grin. "Yeah, you’re probably right. But seriously, if you want to go, we’ll go. If you want to leave, we’ll leave."

You appreciated that more than you could say, but instead of responding, you looked out the window. The car slowed to a stop, and the reality of the situation hit you. The cameras, the people, the flashing lights—it was all waiting just outside.

"Ready?" Timmy asked, holding out his hand like a knight in shining armor.

You took a deep breath and nodded, slipping your hand into his. "As ready as I'll ever be."

The fashion show itself was a whirlwind. Lights, camera flashes, the hum of conversation blending with the soft music in the background. But amidst the glamour, you were determined to keep your distance from Drew. Every time you caught a glimpse of his tall frame, you did your best to blend into the crowd and focus on the runway.

Timothée, couldn’t resist teasing you about Drew, his playful remarks making it even harder to stay composed. Despite your heart fluttering every time you heard his soft laugh, you managed to keep your cool, or at least you hoped you did.

The show itself was a visual feast, with stunning outfits by Loewe that left everyone in awe. Timothée was in his element, charming everyone he spoke to, effortlessly gliding through the crowd. Yet, you could tell he was also trying hard to avoid running into Taylor Russell.

You couldn’t miss how his eyes flickered toward her now and then, a flash of something in his expression that only you could read. But you gave him space, knowing that whatever was going on between them was its own delicate web.

You exchanged polite smiles and laughed at jokes, did your best to keep up but your thoughts always circled back to one thing: Drew Starkey.

You both succeeded in your mission during the show. But as the show came to a close and the after-party beckoned, the sense of triumph was short-lived.

The after-party was a different beast altogether. And there, at the heart of it, was Drew Starkey, mingling with his entourage and catching your eye from time to time. Despite your best efforts, you felt the electric pull of his gaze, the gravity of his presence impossible to ignore.

Timmy noticed, of course. "We can leave, you know, get a take out" he offered again as you both stepped into the car. But you shook your head, determined now. “Then stop worrying. He is not going to eat you.” Teased Timmy.

Then it happened. As you sat at the table with Timothee, you saw Taylor Russell make her way through crowd.

You quickly turned to Timothée, a note of urgency in your voice. “Timmy, don’t panic, but she’s coming over.”

Timothée’s eyes widened slightly as he turned to look at Taylor. His usual nonchalance faded into a look of mild panic. “You’re kidding,” he muttered, trying to keep his cool. “Why does she have to pick now to come over?”

And before you knew… - “Hello” – Tension shifted as Taylor greeted you with her ever the sweetest voice.

“I’m going to grab a drink. I’ll catch up with you later.” you said, your voice carrying a light, reassuring tone. You shot him a quick look, raising an eyebrow. "I’ll kill you if you screw it up," you mouthed playfully, earning a quick smirk from him before you excused yourself to give them some privacy.

Making your way to the bar, you tried not to let your nerves overwhelm you. Just a drink, you thought. Just a quick drink, then I can blend into the background.

“One Cosmopolitan, please,” you told the bartender, just as a familiar voice from beside you made your heart skip a beat.

“It’s on me.”

You turned, and there he was—Drew Starkey, leaning against the bar with a whiskey in hand, looking as effortlessly cool as ever.

Your pulse quickened at the sound of Drew’s voice. He stood next to you, casually leaning on the bar like he belonged there—like he belonged everywhere. His tailored jacket hung off his broad shoulders as though it was designed for him alone. His eyes, that piercing blue you couldn’t forget, caught yours as he smiled—a lazy, confident grin that made your stomach do a flip.

“It’s on me,” he repeated, a little softer, his voice low enough to feel intimate despite the crowd around you.

Your heart stuttered, and for a split second, you forgot how to respond. All those times you’d fantasized about running into Drew Starkey in moments like this and now- He was right there, buying you a drink, and you felt like a teenager all over again.

“Thank you” you finally managed, forcing the word out without sounding too flustered. But your face betrayed you, the warmth creeping up your neck and settling in your cheeks. You prayed the dim lighting would hide the blush.

The bartender slid your drink in front of you, and you lifted it to your lips, hoping the cool liquid would calm your nerves. But Drew was watching you—really watching you—and that made it impossible to relax. His eyes never left yours, and there was something about his gaze that made you feel both exposed and flattered at the same time.

“You look stunning, by the way,” Drew added, his voice velvety smooth, the compliment slipping out so easily it nearly disarmed you.

You blinked, trying to play it cool, but the way he said it made your heart race. "Thanks," you said again, "You’re not so bad yourself."

Drew chuckled, a deep sound that seemed to ripple through the air between you. His presence was intoxicating, almost as much as the drink in your hand. “I’ve been told,” he joked, his smile widening just enough to show a hint of mischief. Your lips tugged into a grin despite yourself.

“So," he said, leaning in a little closer, his elbow brushing lightly against your arm as if testing your boundaries, "how are you enjoying Paris?”

A warm smile spread across your face, and you took a moment to gather your thoughts. “Paris is... well, it’s like coming home in a way,” you began, your voice tinged with affection. “Even though I grew up in the States, there’s something about this city that just feels incredibly familiar and comforting.”

You took a sip of your cosmopolitan, letting the flavors mingle with your emotions. “It’s the little things, you know? The way the light changes on the Seine, the scent of freshly baked pastries through the streets, It all feels so...Parisian. It’s like stepping into a world that’s both new and deeply personal at the same time.”

Drew’s smile widened, his expression softening, a genuine appreciation in his eyes. “I can see how much this city means to you. It sounds like you’re really embracing the magic of Paris.”

You nodded, a playful smile tugging at your lips“So the Queer, huh?” you asked, your tone light and teasing. Drew’s chuckle was light and warm, making you smile even more. “So the Challengers, huh?”

You both laughed, the easy banter between you making the moment feel effortless and natural.

“So, how was working with Luca? I know how he gets sometimes.”

His eyes lit up at the mention of Luca’s name, and you couldn’t help but smile warmly. “Luca is incredible. He’s not just a director; he’s like a creative force of nature. it’s like he has this unique ability to bring out the best in everyone he works with.”

You leaned in slightly, enjoying the conversation. “Oh, absolutely. Luca has this way of making you feel like you’re part of something truly special. I’ve learned so much from him. He’s like a father figure to me.”

Drew’s gaze was warm and appreciative, “Its sweet how full of love you are.”

You felt your cheeks warm at his compliment, and you couldn’t help but smile. “Oh, is that so? But enough about Luca. What about you, Drew? What’s your creative magic like?”

Drew’s smile widened, a playful glint in his eyes. “My magic? Well, I’d say it’s more about finding the right moments to create something special. And right now, I think the real magic is happening here.” He gestured between the two of you with a teasing grin.

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “And what makes you say that?”

Drew leaned in a little closer, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone. “Well, I have to say, talking to you is a highlight of my night. You’ve got this incredible energy that’s hard to resist. And I’m not just talking about your career.”

A soft laugh escaped you, and you could feel the flirtatious tension between you growing. “Is that so? I must admit,you’ve got a way of making me feel special.”

Drew’s eyes met yours with a look that was both sincere and playful. “I’m glad to hear that. It’s not every day I get to chat with someone as fascinating and pretty as you”

You felt a flutter in your stomach at his words. “Well, I’m glad I could make an impression”

Drew’s smile grew, his gaze held yours, But before either of you could continue, the moment shattered.

“Drew? What took you so long?”

Odessa’s voice sliced through the comfortable haze you and Drew had created, and the tension in the air shifted immediately.

You didn’t have to turn around to know it was her—the sharpness in her tone was unmistakable. Drew’s shoulders stiffened slightly, and though his smile didn’t completely fade, it wasn’t as easygoing as before.

Odessa was stunning, of course—there was no denying that But there was something about her presence that felt... strange. Maybe it was the way she looked at you, her eyes flicking up and down, sizing you up in a single sweep.

Her expression betraying a hint of impatience. “I was just about ready to head out. Are you not coming?”

Drew turned to her, his face a mixture of apology and concern. “Oh, right. I just got caught up in a conversation here. I’ll be right out in a moment, go wait outside okay?”

Odessa’s eyes flicked to you with a mixture of curiosity and something sharper—perhaps jealousy. She gave you a curt nod. “Nice to meet you.”

You offered a polite smile, trying to keep the interaction friendly despite the underlying tension. “Nice to meet you too, Odessa.”

Drew’s gaze returned to you, and there was a softness in his eyes that made your heart flutter. “I really enjoyed talking with you. I’m sorry –

You nodded, feeling a mix of disappointment and understanding. “It’s okay. I hope you both have a good night.”

Drew’s smile was tinged with regret as he leaned in slightly, his voice low and sincere. “I’ll text you.”

With a final, lingering glance, Drew turned and walked away ,leaving you with a swirl of emotions. You watched him disappear into the crowd before taking a deep breath, trying to calm the fluttering in your chest.

You downed the rest of your cosmopolitan in one go, hoping the drink would steady your nerves. Pulling out your phone, you quickly texted Timothée, letting him know you were heading out.

As you made your way to the Uber pickup area, you could feel the mix of excitement building inside you. Just as you settled into the backseat of the car, your phone buzzed with a new message.

It was from Drew.

Drew: I couldn’t stop thinking about our conversation. I’d love to continue it…

You: 44.

You: It’s my hotel room number.

You: Don’t make me wait.

The Uber ride back to your hotel was a blur. Your heart hadn’t stopped pounding.

You leaned your head against the window, watching the lights of Paris blur past as the adrenaline surged through your veins.

Stepping out of the car and you hurried your way up to your hotel room. Part of you wondered what you were getting yourself into, but the other part—the part that had been down bad for Drew Starkey since the moment you saw him—couldn’t resist the temptation.

And then, finally, not too long after you entered your room, a soft knock was heared. You froze for a moment, staring at the door, before gathering yourself and opening it.

Drew’s eyes were dark, intense, but his smile was soft, disarming. He stepped inside, the door closing quietly behind him, and suddenly the air between you felt charged, thick with anticipation.

“You really sent me your room number,” he said, voice low, teasing, as he leaned against the wall, watching you with that same amused glint in his eyes.

You shrugged, trying to keep it light, though your heart was racing a mile a minute. “I figured you’d appreciate the direct approach.”

Drew laughed softly, stepping closer, his gaze flicking over you like he was taking in every little detail. “I do,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a near whisper as he reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I really do.”

The touch of his fingers on your skin sent a shiver through you, and before you knew it, you were standing impossibly close, the space between you shrinking with every breath.

“Do you know how hard it was to not look at you all night?” he asked, his voice warm against your skin, his lips just inches away from yours. “You were all I could think about.”

Your breath hitched as his words settled over you, your heart pounding louder in your ears. You looked up at him, eyes wide, and for a moment, all the nervous energy melted away.

“I noticed,” you whispered, barely able to keep the teasing out of your voice.

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your cheek, his breath warm against your ear. “Good.”

Before you could respond, his lips found yours, soft but deliberate, like he had been waiting for this moment as long as you had. The kiss was slow at first, testing the waters, but when you kissed him back, everything else melted away. It was just you and Drew, the rest of the world fading into the background as his hands slid around your waist, pulling you closer.

Time seemed to blur as the kiss deepened, your hands instinctively finding their way to the back of his neck, pulling him closer. When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless, your lips tingling from the intensity of it all.

Drew leaned his forehead against yours, his breath ragged, his hands still holding you close. "I've wanted to do that for a while," he admitted, his voice low, almost a confession.

You looked up at him, your heart swelling at the vulnerability in his words. "So have I."

Without thinking, you closed the distance between you, your lips crashing into his in a kiss that was nothing like the first—a kiss filled with longing and heat. Drew responded instantly, his hands sliding around your waist, pulling you tightly against him. His lips moved over yours with urgency, as if he’d been waiting for this moment for far too long.

You moaned softly into his mouth, and that seemed to be all the encouragement he needed. He backed you toward the bed, his lips never leaving yours, his hands roaming over your body, sending sparks of desire everywhere they touched. You stumbled slightly, your legs hitting the edge of the bed, and you pulled him down with you, the both of you collapsing onto the mattress in a tangled heap of limbs.

Drew’s body hovered over yours, his eyes locked on yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. His hands, now more confident, slid up the sides of your body, teasing the hem of your shirt before pulling it up and over your head in one smooth motion. The cool air against your skin contrasted sharply with the heat radiating off his body, and you felt a rush of anticipation as his gaze darkened, his lips quirking up in appreciation.

“You’re stunning,” he whispered, his voice thick with desire.

Your breath hitched as his lips found your neck, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your skin. You arched into him, the sensation of his mouth on you sending a wave of pleasure coursing through your body. He worked his way lower, his fingers deftly unclasping your bra and tossing it aside before his lips closed around your nipple, his tongue flicking against the sensitive skin.

A soft moan escaped your lips, and Drew groaned in response, the sound vibrating against your skin. He moved with purpose now, his hands sliding down your sides, tugging at your pants until they were nothing but a heap on the floor. Every touch, every kiss, felt like fire, like he was branding you with his desire.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he whispered against your skin, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver through you.

You reached up, pulling him closer, your lips crashing into his once more. The kiss was frantic now, filled with need and desperation.

Before you knew it, Drew had shed his own clothes, his body pressed against yours, skin on skin, the heat between you almost unbearable. His hands roamed over your body, exploring every curve, every dip, like he was trying to memorize the feel of you. And when he finally slid his hand between your thighs, teasing you, you gasped, your body arching into him, silently begging for more.

“Drew,” you breathed, your voice barely a whisper, laced with need.

He smirked against your lips, his fingers dipping lower, sliding inside you with a slow, deliberate motion that had you seeing stars. You clung to him, your nails digging into his back as he worked you, his thumb circling your sensitive spot, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“God, you feel so good,” he groaned, his voice strained with restraint. “I don’t think I’ll be able to stop…”

“Then don’t”, Your breath came in ragged gasps, your body trembling beneath him, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable level. And just when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore, he pulled his fingers away, leaving you aching and desperate for more.

You let out a frustrated whimper, but Drew silenced you with a heated kiss, his body pressing down against yours as he positioned himself between your thighs. The moment stretched out, the anticipation crackling in the air, before he finally pushed inside you, filling you completely. You gasped, your head falling back against the pillows as the sensation overwhelmed you.

Drew groaned low in his throat, his hands gripping your hips as he began to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate at first, teasing you, making you crave more. Your hands slid up his back, your nails digging into his skin as you urged him to go faster, your body meeting his with every thrust.

The pleasure built quickly, each movement sending waves of ecstasy coursing through you. Drew’s pace quickened, his breathing ragged in your ear as he drove you both closer and closer to the edge. Your body was a live wire, every nerve ending on fire as he pushed you higher, the pressure building inside you until it was almost unbearable.

“Drew,” you gasped, your voice trembling with need.

He responded with a deep groan, his thrusts becoming more erratic, more desperate as he chased his own release. And then, with one final, powerful thrust, you shattered, pleasure crashing over you like a tidal wave, your body trembling beneath him as you cried out his name.

Drew followed soon after, his body tensing above you as he found his own release, a deep groan of satisfaction rumbling in his chest. He collapsed beside you, both of you panting, your bodies slick with sweat, still reeling from the intensity of it all.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the room filled only with the sound of your ragged breathing. Then Drew turned to you, a lazy, satisfied smile playing on his lips as he reached out, pulling you against his chest.

“I think I’m gonna need your room number more often,” he murmured, his voice thick with exhaustion and contentment.

You laughed softly, your body still buzzing from the aftermath of everything that had just happened. “I think I can arrange that.”

With that, you curled up against him, your head resting on his chest, your heart still racing as you drifted off into a deep, dreamless sleep, the feeling of Drew’s arms wrapped around you the last thing you remembered.

And just like that, as you drifted into sleep, one thought lingered:

"Sometimes, love isn’t about chasing a fairy tale or clinging to the past. It’s about embracing the unexpected, even if it’s wrapped in a Loewe suit and a pair of smoldering eyes that see right through you."

TMZ_TV : Last night’s Loewe show was nothing short of spectacular! From jaw-dropping designs to unforgettable moments, the runway was on fire. 🔥

🌟 Y/N L/N stunned in a custom Loewe creation by Jonathan Anderson, embodying elegance and innovation. Meanwhile, Drew Starkey’s sleek Loewe suit had everyone talking.

👀 The real buzz? The chemistry between them at the afterparty! The night was filled with high fashion and even higher drama. 💫

Swipe to see the highlights and catch up on the latest fashion gossip! 💃🕺

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────

I am very nervous!! Hope you liked it and i did not disappoint you...

#drew starkey x y/n #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey #rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe imagine #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron imagine #outer banks #obx #timothée chalamet #timothee chamalet #timmy chalamet #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee x reader

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chrollogy · 4 months ago

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SFW; fluff ><, scara uses a term of endearment for the very first time which catches you off guard, implied established relationship, pet names mentioned. divider: cafekitsune.

── it wasn’t foreign to not receive terms of endearments from scaramouche—it was simple, really. he’d rather just call you by your name. you asked him about it once to which he flatly replied with ‘it’s a silly thing for silly humans.’ and you left it at that, of course not without a pout thrown his way but more times than not, you’ve always wondered how pet names rolled off his tongue, how they sounded with his dulcet voice, though, the biggest question in your mind was: what would scaramouche even call you?

given his personality, he definitely excelled in colourful derogatory nicknames when it came to enemies or people that lacked basic common sense, though, those words were never directed at you. of course, you’ve asked scaramouche to at least try calling you something, even a simple ‘baby’ would suffice but all you were met with was an unamused grumble before walking away, clearly he was more flustered than he let on.

you stared at your boyfriend across the wooden study table, a serene expression painted on his handsome face, his amethyst gaze slowly followed the inked sentences across each page of the book. the house of daena was filled with low murmurs from other students, and researchers, sounds of pages turning every now, and then turned into a calming melody.

bored, you let out an audible huff which not only gained scaramouche’s attention but also from other students in your vicinity, “i’m so bored.” scaramouche simply turned another page from his book before replying, “last time i checked, you have an assignment due tonight.” you didn’t bother replying, instead, poking your tongue out at him despite his eyes glued to the pages.

not wanting to let this conversation go to waste, you spoke up again, “what do you think are the chances of me failing this assignment?”

scaramouche didn’t reply, not even having the heart to lift his gaze towards you. he knew what you were doing, making pointless conversation just to satiate your boredom, unfortunately for you, he actually had matters to tend to, and supposedly, so did you. scaramouche knew better than to engage in your silliness.

oh, but you were determined to get his attention.

“not even going to speak to me? how mean,” you feigned hurt, dramatically placing a palm over your chest even though he wasn’t looking.

“heeeeeeeey, don’t ignore me.”

this carried on for a few more seconds, calling out to scaramouche with a hushed tone but to no avail, his expression remained indifferent, still focused on the task at hand—definitely an expert at tuning out your silly antics, you had to give it to him.

“hat guy.”

scaramouche let out an annoyed sigh, it was a silly name that other students at the akademiya called him, he wasn’t fond of it but he didn’t necessarily despise the name—he just wished others had the creativity to at least give him a better one. nonetheless, you successfully gained his attention, a celebratory smile crept up your face.

you watched as scaramouche closed the book with a light thud before turning his sole attention to you, with an annoyed huff, he spoke, “yes, my love?”

your eyes widened, the smile you wore seconds ago unceremoniously falling off your face, heat blossomed from your chest, kissing its way up the column of your neck, and onto your cheeks. my love. were you hearing things right? did scaramouche just call you my love? you weren’t dreaming, were you?

he snickered at your unexplainable expression, brows knitted, and amethyst narrowed at you, “cat got your tongue now? you were just begging for my attention seconds ago—”

scaramouche cut his sentence short upon realising the words that slipped past his lips mere seconds earlier. oh. that was definitely not meant to come out. he clicked his tongue before looking off to the side, to avoid your wide-eyed stare. he hated that expression (not really), how it was able to bring out such humanly emotions from him, how it rendered him completely speechless.

you held the cosmos in your eyes, and scaramouche thought you were the most beautiful person in all of teyvat.

crossing his arms over his chest, he closed his eyes, and let out another annoyed sigh, “what? now that i’m finally giving you a pet name, you’re not even going to acknowledge it?” scaramouche clicked his tongue once again but didn’t dare meet your gaze.

“no, no. it’s just that . .” you trailed off, still trying to process his words.

my love.

you smiled, letting out a soft chuckle, “my love, huh? you’re adorable, did you know that?” this earned another grumble from scaramouche, paired with a roll of his eyes,

“i’m taking it back.” “you don’t mean that.”

he didn’t at all. in fact, my love was what he had been wanting to call you since then but he just didn’t have the guts to—it made scaramouche feel all weird inside whenever he imagined a scenario where he’d say it to you. he guessed there were consequences for keeping such thoughts to himself, seeing as how it accidentally rolled off his tongue.

though, the words felt oddly natural. like it was meant to be.

—

affiliated with @houseofsolisoccasum !

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ohsc · 2 months ago

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₊˚⊹♡ assistance | sam winchester x reader

a/n - not for kinktober just a fic i wanted to get out!! i’m unsure whether i like the dialogue on this im sorry if it sucks i feel i can never write dirty talk right *sobs* but i really hope you enjoy!!! <3

cws - fem!reader, 2k, nsfw 18+, phone sex, mutual masturbation, kind of softdom!sam, long distance, fluff, comfort, kinda unedited

other fics can be found on my masterlist

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

It was later than he’d liked by the time he finally got back to the motel. With muscles that ached from the day’s strain, brain fogged from how tired he was, Sam honestly just wanted to call his girlfriend and talk to her until he fell asleep.

He’d meant to text her a couple of hours prior to let her know the hunt was dragging on longer than expected, but his phone had fucking died when he and Dean were two hours into their trek into the woods to find the pack of werewolves they were hunting, and he’d been pretty miserable ever since.

Dean had disappeared off to the nearest bar after dropping Sam off at their room so he thankfully had the place to himself to mope around as he plugged his phone into the charger and showered whilst he waited for it to get some power. The shitty water pressure and barely lukewarm water did nothing for his aching back, so he was even more agitated by the time he got himself settled onto the uncomfortable mattress twenty minutes later, hair wet and skin still damp beneath his clothes with his eagerness to call her.

As much as he hated being away from her for so long, and too often, it was the safest thing to do. Sam wouldn't be able to forgive himself if something happened to her because she was too close to his shit. He still had dreams about Jess, about how that was all his fault. He couldn’t let it happen again.

His phone hadn’t even reached twenty percent but he was impatient and shuffled over to the edge of the bed so the phone cord would reach and held the phone to his ear as he called her, propped himself up against the headboard.

The phone didn’t even ring twice before she answered.

“Sam?”

“Hey, baby.” The words came out in an exhale, most of the tension left him just at the sound of her voice, the ache seeping out of his bones like a relief. It was what kept him sane whenever he was away. Her picture in his wallet, her hair tie on his wrist, her voice in his ear.

“Hi, Sammy. Got worried when you didn’t call on time.”

He winced at the thought. She worried for him, of course she did. Sam understood how horrible it must have felt for her, knowing what he was going off to do. He could only imagine the dread that must’ve curled inside of her whenever he was late calling. Too many things had happened in the past, too many things could still go wrong.

“Sorry, my phone died when we were still out, didn’t get back until way later than I thought,” he groaned, sank down the headboard a little to stretch out on the bed. The agitation still hadn’t quite left him, the stiffness in his muscles prominent. He wanted nothing more than to curl up with her in his arms and he couldn’t have it. “Miss you, honey.”

He could hear the smile in her voice as she responded, “Missed you more. Wish you were here, it’s cold at night without you in bed too.”

He snorted a quiet laugh. “That’s why you miss me?”

“Mhm,” she giggled, though her voice turned a little coy as she murmured, “among other reasons.”

“Yeah?” An automatic smile was curling at his mouth.

Another little giggle through the receiver. He didn’t even need to see her to know that she had that little bashful smile on her face. He also knew exactly what was on her mind, it was on his too.

It wasn’t the first time they’d have done this. He was on the road so often that their sex life wasn’t as amazing as it could have been, and it wasn’t like he didn’t pleasure himself when he was away on hunts anyways.

There had been many many evenings he’d spent in the shower, hot water rolling down his back as he had one hand pressed to the tiled wall whilst the other pumped his cock until his cum was washed down the drain along with his shampoo bubbles. It wasn’t ideal — bottom lip tucked between his teeth to stifle the heaving breaths and quiet groans, trying to get off as fast as he could before the hot water could run out or Dean could get back to the room. It was even worse when it became a result of having her on the phone. There had been many occasions where her soft voice and giggles in his ear had been enough to get him hard, on nights when he was really missing her and it had just been too long since he’d kissed her.

It turned out she did the same as him. Though when Sam pictured it, it was a lot more graceful than his time in the shower. Laid out all pretty on their bed, legs spread, fingers wet with her own arousal as her head tipped back against the pillows. Sometimes if he got a little selfish he pictured her voice all whimpery saying his name as she came, but he couldn’t get lost in that daydream often, or he’d get hard over that, too.

“Miss you,” she breathed again, and the shift in her tone was palpable. “I… I tried touching myself earlier but I couldn’t cum without you on the phone.”

The groan that left him was automatic and his cock throbbed, hardening beneath the material of his boxers. The idea that she couldn’t even get off without his voice in her ear did wonders for him, it was a wonder his ego wasn’t too big already.

“You need my help, honey?” He crooned into the phone, settled into the tone of voice he knew she liked to hear, the voice he used more often than not when he was whispering in her ear, hips slotted between her thighs, rolling in a rhythm that left her whiney and panting.

Her soft little “mhm” was enough for him to move his other hand down and palm himself, hissing in a breath through his teeth.

“Go ahead and lay down for me, pretty girl. Wanna tell me what you’re wearing?”

There was the rustling of sheets over the phone before her voice spoke up again, “Just one of your shirts.”

Another groan. “You trying to kill me, baby?”

She giggled and his cock twitched beneath his palm. Jesus Christ he needed to get back to her, he needed her in person, to sate the need that wouldn’t be doused thoroughly enough over the phone.

“Go ahead and spread your legs for me, sweetheart,” he breathed, palming his cock again as he spoke, eyes squeezing shut as his head knocked back against the headboard. “Did you get yourself all worked up earlier, hm? Are you all soaked already?”

There was another hum, though he could hear the way her breathing had deepened, deep and heavy in his ear. He could picture the tickle of her breath on his face, the shape of her lips, the taste of her mouth after she’d just brushed her teeth. He needed her.

“Why don’t you start touching yourself for me?” He murmured, voice low with his arousal. Her resounding moan was enough for his cock to throb again and his hand finally dipped beneath his waistband, freeing himself with a quiet groan.

“Are you touching yourself too?” She whimpered, and it was a miracle he didn’t just cum there and then.

“Yeah,” his hand lifted and he tipped his head down to spit into his palm, groaning softly the next time he pumped his cock. “Yeah I am, dolly. Your pretty voice got me all worked up— fuck.” He breathed out the word between his teeth. He was already leaking pre-cum, thumbing over the head of his cock in a move that made him shudder, though it felt nice when she did it. Stroked his cock with her pretty hands, her pretty lips that wrapped around his head when she was on her knees for him, licking along the length of his dick in a way that always made him weak in the knees.

She moaned again and his hips jerked, rutting into his hand with a filthy groan. “How’re you feeling, honey?”

She whimpered, and Sam felt another dribble of pre-cum slide down the length of his cock. “Good— mm, good, j’st—” she took in a shaky breath, “feels better when it’s you, baby.”

“Oh yeah?” He grunted, pumping his cock just a little faster. “Why’s that, dolly?”

“Bigger hands,” she breathed. “longer fingers.”

Sam moaned, the idea of his fingers nestled deep in her wet heat enough for his cock to throb in his hand, and he knew he wouldn’t last long. But from the sounds of her pretty little whimpers, neither would she. “Can’t fill that pretty pussy up as nice as I can, hm?” He took in a shuddering breath. “Play with your clit for me, sweetheart.”

He could hear the moment she did, the sharp inhale, the whimpery moan, the rustling of the sheets as she, undoubtedly, spread her legs wider. “Oh god, Sammy—”

“Are you close, sweetheart?”

All he got in response was a high-pitched “uh-huh.”

“That’s it— shit, that’s it, baby,” he panted, pumping his cock faster, moaning softly as his head arched back. “Go on, dolly, make some pretty sounds for me as you cum, won’t you? M’gonna cum just thinking about you making such a mess of yourself, c’mon, baby—” he was practically begging between sharp breaths.

It only took a moment before he heard her sharp inhale and the whine that followed, and all it took was a few more quick ruts into his hand and the sounds of her before he groaned her name, toes curled and eyelids scrunched as he came. He could feel the evidence of his orgasm dribbling down his cock and his fingers as he shucked a few more times, hissing through his teeth as he finally stopped.

“Oh sweetheart,” he breathed, panting, not unlike her heavy breaths into the phone. “You sounded so fucking pretty, honey. That feel good for you?”

She took a shuddery breath and hummed again. “Yeah, thanks baby.”

Sam couldn’t help the breathy chuckle. “Don’t need to thank me,” he murmured. “M’always gonna take care of my girl, even if I’m not there. You made quite a mess of me, too.”

She breathed a laugh, and a moment passed of just their shared breathing as they both calmed down. Sam’s cock had softened completely against his abdomen, and he’d have to change his clothes and have another shower, but fuck was it worth it.

“I’ll be on my way back to you tomorrow,” he promised once his breathing had mostly evened out. “Should be with you before dinner, then you get me all to yourself.”

She yawned into the phone before mumbling, “Good, want you back to me as soon as possible.”

The sound of her so sleepy just left him so soft. “I promise I will be,” he breathed. “Why don’t you get some sleep, okay honey? I’ll call you in the morning when we’re on the road.”

“Okay,” her voice had completely softened, coated in a sickly-sweet fondness that left him putty in her hands. “I love you. Get back to me safe, okay?”

“I always do,” Sam smiled. “I love you too. Night, gorgeous.”

She yawned her own goodbye before the line went dead, and he let the phone drop back down onto the mattress with a heavy breath.

Just one more day, then he could have her in person, help her in all the ways he wanted to on the phone.

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