#not where I live but near his friend's house

[zaynessbeloved]

Gravity instincts

Synopsis: You’ve been pining for Colonel Caleb in silence, hiding your feelings behind friendship and stolen glances—until one lonely day in his apartment breaks your restraint. Drowning in the scent of his shirt and the ache of unspoken desire, you give in to your need.

Content warnings: Explicit sexual content, power dynamics dominance & submission (consensual), rough sex, praise & degradation mix, possessive/obsessive behavior, use of evol, mild voyeurism (security camera), slight dubcon vibe (due to voyeurism + power dynamic—but ultimately consensual)

Pairings: Caleb x reader

Word count: 5.9k

The stars never felt farther away than when he was near. 

You’ve known him for years now—through turbulence and silence, distance and closeness. Caleb, with his unwavering sense of duty, with that sharp gaze that sees through everything except your heart. A colonel in the Space Fleet, a man responsible for keeping the galaxy stitched together—and yet, it’s the quiet moments between missions that unravel you.

You weren’t supposed to fall for him. Not like this. Not while standing at his side as a technician, tucked into the same command deck where he commands the stars with a single gesture. Not while sharing routine maintenance reports, debriefing sessions, and the occasional cup of coffee in the silence of the observation deck. 

You were supposed to admire him. Respect him. Follow orders. 

But then he started looking at you like that. Or maybe he always did, and you were just too afraid to believe it.

His Evol never quite stayed confined to his command. It lingered. Pulled. Tangled itself into the fabric of every moment you shared. It wasn’t the kind of pull you could measure in units or explain with science. It was slower, softer, the kind of pull that didn’t slam you into orbit—but whispered, stay.

And so you did. Through every mission, every battle, every long night where he returned bruised and exhausted, and still managed to smirk at you like you were the first calm thing he'd seen in weeks.

But lately, it’s become unbearable. Because no matter how long you stand by his side, you’re always a half-step away. Close enough to feel the warmth of his presence—never close enough to fall into it.

So you do something reckless. Not battlefield reckless. Not strategy-breaking reckless. Something softer. Petty. Aching.

You steal one of his shirts.

Not because you expect him not to notice. Not because you think it will change anything. But because you’re tired of pretending you don’t want more. And it’s the only way you know how to say I miss you, without breaking apart completely. 

His place is quiet—sterile, in the way all military housing is—but he’s lived in this one long enough for traces of him to linger. The coffee mug he always forgets to rinse. The flight jacket half-slouched over the back of his chair. His scent, clinging stubbornly to the air. Warm. Subtle. Like cedarwood and ozone. 

You’ve stayed here before—dozens of times, even. Sometimes after late-night shifts. Sometimes after a mission when neither of you had the energy to be alone. And sometimes just because it was easier to fall asleep on his couch with the hum of the city cars in the background than face the silence of your own quarters.

You were just friends, after all. Friends who trusted each other more than anyone else. Friends who had learned the hard way that war doesn’t leave much room for hearts to speak freely.

But today is your day off. And he’s not here.

He left in a rush that morning—called back to command before he even finished his coffee. A small part of you had hoped he’d stay. A bigger part was grateful he didn’t. Because it’s only in his absence that you allow yourself to feel the weight of what you’ve been burying.

The ache. The exhaustion. The constant pretending.

You drift toward his room like you’ve done a hundred times before, intending only to grab your datapad, maybe take a nap in the bed he always insists you use when he’s gone. But your fingers pause on the edge of the closet. Hesitate. Then move with a kind of guilty hunger.

You find it folded neatly on the second shelf. A dark, well-worn shirt with his name tag still faintly stitched at the collar. The one he always wears after missions, sleeves rolled up, collar loose. You swear it holds more of him than anything else in this entire apartment.

You press it to your face. 

And that’s when everything unravels. 

His scent is still there—faint but potent, like static in the air before a storm. It slides down your spine like a whisper. Not just the memory of him, but the ache of being near him and never touching. Of hearing your name in his voice but never on his lips the way you want it.

Your body reacts before your mind can stop it. And you let it. 

Because you’re tired. Because you’ve spent too many nights curled on this bed pretending you don’t dream of what it would feel like if he touched you the way you crave. Because you’ve stayed silent while watching him flirt with danger, disappear into missions, return with bruises and blood and never once say I missed you too—but look at you like he did.

So you pull the shirt over your head, drowning in it. It smells like him. Feels like him. The fabric slips past your skin like a memory you’re not supposed to hold onto.

You lie down on his bed, the sheets still creased from where he slept. Your hands start to move.

And this time, you don’t stop them.

You imagine him. Not like he is at work—stoic, powerful, untouchable. But how he is when the world softens. When he forgets to wear the weight of his rank. When he smirks at you across the kitchen counter, teasing you for stealing the last pastry. When his voice drops in the quiet, calling your name like it means something more.

Your fingers tremble. Not from lust. From longing.

This isn’t about pleasure. It’s about the ache. The impossible closeness. The need to feel his warmth when you know you’ll never have it for real. 

His shirt swallows you whole. Soft, worn cotton clings loosely to your frame, the scent of him draped over you like heat—masculine, magnetic, undeniably Caleb. It’s too big, the hem brushing your thighs, the sleeves falling over your hands. But it makes you feel closer to him. Almost like he’s here.

You settle back against his sheets, your knees curling slightly as you sink into the place he’s slept in so many times—where you’ve laid before, pretending you weren’t listening for his heartbeat in the quiet.

But today, there’s no pretending.

Your hand slips between your legs, tentative at first. Not from shame—but from how raw the ache is. It’s been building for months. Years, if you’re being honest. And it’s not just about wanting him—it’s the way he makes you want. The way he looks at you with that unreadable expression, all heat and gravity and something else that never quite reaches his lips.

You close your eyes and let yourself feel.

You imagine him like you’ve never allowed yourself to before.

His voice in your ear, low and rough, calling you a good girl in that quiet drawl he uses when the world slows down. The weight of his body pressing you down into the mattress, his fingers trailing up your thighs, firm and warm and sure. 

Your breath hitches. Your touch grows bolder. 

You imagine his mouth. The way he’d kiss you—slow and possessive, like he’s waited just as long. His teeth grazing your bottom lip, his hand wrapped around your wrist, pinning you down as he whispers, Is this what you wanted, baby? Wearing my shirt like that? Touching yourself in my bed?

You gasp, the heat building fast and dangerous, everything tightening under your skin. You can’t stop the soft moan that escapes your lips—his name, broken and breathless.

And you don’t know that he hears it. 

Because a few levels below, the man himself has just returned from command.  

Still in uniform, boots heavy against the steel floors, he exhales as the apartment door hisses open. He wasn’t expecting to be home this early—but the comms were quiet, and for once, there were no emergencies.

He reaches for the wrist panel by the entrance—his home security linked to the system, just in case something went wrong when he’s off-planet.

He doesn’t expect to see you.

On his bed. In his shirt. Hand between your thighs. Eyes closed. Lips parted. Whispering his name.

Everything stops. For a moment, he forgets to breathe. The screen blinks quietly, casting a pale glow against his expression. Blank. Tense. A beat of silence. Then another. He turns off the feed.

And he walks. Slowly. Quietly. Up the stairs toward the woman in his bed.

You don’t hear the door slide open. Don’t hear the soft press of boots against polished flooring. Don’t feel the shift in the air when he steps inside.

You’re too far gone.

Fingers buried between your thighs, breath catching on every gasp, every slow, deliberate drag that makes your muscles tighten and your stomach flutter. The shirt you’re wearing—his shirt—is hitched up around your hips, the fabric clinging to your skin with heat. It smells like him. Still warm with traces of cedar, ozone, and something darker. Something intoxicating.

Your other hand fists the sheets beneath you—his sheets—already damp with sweat and shame and longing.

You don’t even try to stop the sound that leaves your mouth. His name, breathless and wrecked. A whimper. A plea. You don’t know which.

You imagine him here. Not as the Colonel the world salutes, but the man who stands too close when he talks to you, who looks at you like he’s memorizing your every breath. The man who touches your lower back when you’re both pretending it means nothing. The man who haunts you.

You picture his hands instead of your own—larger, calloused, precise. You’ve seen what those hands can do to a battlefield. You wonder what they’d do to you, if he let go of all that control.

“Is this what you do when I’m not home?” The voice hits you like a thunderclap.

Deep. Low. Unmistakable. 

You freeze. Your heart stutters violently, blood roaring in your ears. 

He’s standing there. Just inside the bedroom, half-shadowed by the low lights. Still in uniform, the dark jacket unbuttoned just enough to show the black undershirt clinging to his chest. His eyes—stormy, narrowed, dark—lock onto you like he’s seeing everything.

And he is.

You’re sprawled on his bed, legs parted, breathing hard. Wearing nothing but his shirt and your guilt. Caught in the middle of a fantasy you didn’t know was real.

You try to speak. To explain. To move. But you can’t.

Not with the way he’s looking at you. Like he’s starving. Like you’re the sin he’s been trying not to commit for years.

His jaw flexes. His fists are clenched at his sides. And still—he doesn’t move.

“I’ve imagined you like this,” he says, voice rough with restraint. “On my bed. In my shirt. Moaning my name.”

Your breath catches. Your thighs clench.

“I’ve stopped myself,” he continues, stepping forward once—slow, measured, dangerous. “Every day. Every night. From touching you. From ruining you the way I’ve craved.”

Another step.

“But you come into my home,” he murmurs, voice dropping lower, darker, “put yourself in my clothes, on my bed, and touch yourself like you belong to me.” 

You swallow hard. You’re trembling now, heart hammering in your chest. Not from fear. From something far, far worse.

“You don’t know what you’ve done,” he says. 

His voice isn’t angry. It’s reverent. Like you’ve become something holy in his eyes—something he’s worshipped from a distance too long.

And now? Now he’s done watching from afar.

“I—” you choke on the word, scrambling for air, for thoughts, for something to say that doesn’t sound like begging. “Caleb, I didn’t mean— I wasn’t trying to—”

You sit up fast, heart in your throat, his shirt falling lower on your thighs like it’s trying to hide you. Your hand trembles as you press it to your chest, like maybe you can force your heartbeat to slow, like maybe this moment will shatter if you just say the right thing.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, still breathless, cheeks blazing hot. “I didn’t mean for you to see. I thought you were still at work, I just— I don’t know what came over me, I’m sorry—” 

Your voice falters, unraveling with every shaky breath. You can’t meet his eyes. Not when your skin is still flushed, your thighs still slick, your body still thrumming with the desperate need that had built and built—only to snap to attention the second he spoke. 

And god, you’re still wet. Still aching. Still ruined with the taste of him on your tongue, even if you’ve never really had him.

But the silence that follows your apology?

That’s what truly wrecks you.

Because Caleb doesn’t speak. Not right away. He just stares. Head tilted slightly, breathing slow, but his jaw clenched like he’s at war with himself.

And then—he laughs. A low, humorless sound that slides down your spine like ice.

“You’re sorry,” he repeats, as if the words are foreign. Bitter. “You think this is something you need to apologize for?”

Your gaze snaps up.

His eyes are darker now. Not with anger—but possession. Obsession. That hunger he always buried beneath rank and reason has cracked wide open, no longer hidden behind a smirk or a casual joke.

“You don’t understand, do you?” he says, voice low, gravelled. “You think I haven’t thought about this? Dreamed about it? You think I haven’t watched you sleep in that bed and imagined pulling that pretty little body apart with my hands?” 

Your breath hitches—sharp and sharp again. 

“You think I haven’t fought every fucking instinct in me to keep my hands to myself when you look at me like that? When you say my name in that soft little voice like you don’t know what it does to me?”

Your knees press together, a soft gasp caught in your throat.

“I’ve kept this part of me from you,” he says, stepping closer, one slow step after another. “The part that wants to keep you in my bed. In my clothes. Under my command.”

Your thighs tremble. Your fingers tighten in the sheets. You're still wet, still burning, and his words only make it worse.

“I’m not a good man, princess,” he breathes. “But I’ve tried to be. For you. I’ve tried to give you space. Time. Patience.” 

His gaze drops to your bare thighs, the curve of them just beneath the hem of his shirt. You see his jaw clench again—so hard it looks like it hurts.

“And now you apologize to me,” he growls, a hand running through his hair, like he’s barely holding himself back. “While sitting on my bed, in my shirt, with that sweet cunt still dripping from your own fingers like you were made for me—” 

“Caleb,” you breathe—half protest, half plea. 

But it’s already too late.

His control is crumbling. And all you’ve done… is invite the part of him he’s kept buried for too long to the surface.

His eyes drag over you slowly—ruthlessly—like he’s committing every inch of you to memory. His uniform fits him like a second skin, dark and crisp and spotless except for the slight looseness at the collar where he always tugs it when he’s tired. The high-ranking insignia gleams on his shoulder, a cold contrast to the heat in his eyes.

You’ve never wanted to be touched so badly in your life.

But he doesn’t move.

Not yet.

He just watches. Listens to every shaky breath you take, to the soft rustle of sheets as you shift, thighs pressing together in a hopeless attempt to ease the throb between your legs. The ache that he caused. That only he can fix now.

“You’re quiet all of a sudden,” he says, voice like gravel and thunder. “Not so loud without my name on your lips now, are you?” 

You flinch. Not from fear—but from the way his words twist inside you.

He knows. God, he knows everything now.

“You wanted this,” he murmurs, stepping closer. “Don’t lie. You thought about me. You were thinking about me inside you while wearing my shirt, weren’t you?” 

You try to look away. 

“Eyes on me,” he commands softly. “Or are you too ashamed to admit the truth?”

Your breath catches. Your heart is going too fast, the room spinning in the haze of your own arousal. Your panties are soaked, clinging to you, and he hasn’t even touched you yet.

“You were fucking yourself in my bed,” he continues, inching closer, voice low and deliberate. “Wearing my clothes. Saying my name. I want to hear you say it, princess.”

You shake your head, unable to breathe through the thick heat suffocating your chest.

He leans in just a little—just enough.

“Say it,” he breathes, tone tightening like a vice. “Say you wanted me.”

Your fingers twist in the sheets, your thighs shaking from the pressure, from the denial. Every nerve in your body screams for him. For contact. For relief. But you know he won’t give it—not until you admit it. Not until you surrender.

“Caleb…” you whisper, voice trembling, “please…”

“That’s not what I asked.”

His eyes are sharp. Unforgiving. Hungry. 

“You’re going to look me in the eye,” he says, slowly unfastening the top button of his uniform jacket, the movement agonizingly controlled. “And you’re going to tell me that you wanted me. That you came into my bed, in my fucking shirt, because you were too wet and desperate to keep pretending you didn’t think about me when you touched yourself.” 

You’re panting now, knees drawn up, body flushed and aching. 

And he knows. He can see how wrecked you already are. How you’re squirming, clenching around nothing, leaking through your underwear just from the sound of his voice. From the image of him, powerful and poised, standing over you like you belong to him.

You can’t take it anymore.

“I wanted you,” you gasp, the words ripped from you like confession. “I wanted you, Caleb—I couldn’t stop thinking about you—I always think about you—”

He exhales through his nose, jaw tight, like he’s been waiting an eternity to hear that.

“I need you,” you whisper, broken now. “Please.”

And finally—finally—his restraint snaps. 

Your confession hangs in the air like a live wire—raw, exposed, and trembling.  It’s the truth. And now that you’ve said it, you can’t take it back.

But Caleb… he’s far from satisfied.

Not yet.

The shift is subtle at first—a quiet hum beneath your skin, like pressure in the air right before a storm breaks. You don’t notice it immediately, not until your body sinks ever so slightly into the mattress. Like the bed has grown heavier. Denser. 

Like something is pulling you down. 

Your breath stutters.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, tone low and lethal as he drags his jacket off slowly, revealing the sleek black shirt beneath. “But not good enough.”

You stare at him, heart slamming against your ribs, limbs heavy and hot with tension.

“Caleb…” you whisper.

He lifts one hand, fingers loose, and you feel it—a subtle flex of pressure in the air around you. Your wrists press gently into the sheets without being held. Your back arches slightly without your control. It’s not overwhelming, not enough to scare you. But it’s enough to make you feel it. Him.

“You think you get to say it once and have me come running?” he asks, circling the edge of the bed like a predator. “After all this time, after all the nights you’ve laid here and pretended you didn’t want me?”

The gravity pulses again—soft, deliberate, like an invisible hand stroking over your body. Your thighs twitch. Your breath shudders.

“I want to hear you beg,” he says. 

You’re already half-gone—mind fogged with heat, hips subtly rolling as you try to relieve the aching throb between your legs. The pressure of his Evol presses down again, just enough to keep you still. Just enough to make you feel helpless.

“Say it again,” he commands, his voice now just inches from your ear, low and dark. “And mean it this time.”

You bite your lip, breath catching. “Please, Caleb—”

“No.” The word cracks like a whip. “Not like that. You want me? You tell me exactly what you want. Use that pretty mouth. Or you’ll stay like this—needy and untouched.”

His words punch through you, hot and sharp. 

You writhe beneath the weight of him—not his hands, not his body… but his power. The controlled pressure of his Evol makes your body tremble with frustration. You can’t move the way you want to. You can’t even touch yourself now.

“I want—” you gasp, voice thin and desperate. “I want your hands on me— I want you to touch me—please, I can’t— I need you— Caleb, please, I need you so bad it hurts—”

He lets out a breath—low and hungry—and suddenly the pressure vanishes.

Like a switch flipped.

And you gasp, your body free again, breath flooding your lungs.

“You should’ve said that sooner,” he growls, already crawling over the bed, the mattress dipping beneath his weight. “Now lie back, princess.”

His hands finally land on you—hot, real, and no longer restrained. One hand grips your thigh, spreading you open, while the other pulls the shirt higher up your body.

“You wanted this?” he murmurs against your neck, mouth trailing fire over your skin. “You’re going to take it now.” 

And this time? You will.

His hands are on you—finally on you—and everything else disappears.

He spreads you open like he owns you, like he’s done it a thousand times in his mind, each movement exact, hungry, controlled. The heat of his palms burns against your thighs as he kneels between them, dragging the fabric of his shirt higher, higher—until it’s bunched at your waist and your soaked panties are the only thing between you and his mouth. 

And god, the look on his face—like he could devour you whole. 

“Look at you,” he murmurs, voice molten as his fingers trace the wet outline of your underwear. “So fucking wet. Is this all for me, princess?”

You whimper, nodding helplessly, your body twitching beneath the ghost of his touch.

He exhales sharply through his nose, jaw tight, like he’s the one about to lose control.

“I’ve dreamed about this,” he growls, pulling the fabric aside to reveal the slick mess underneath. “I’ve thought about your cunt wrapped around my fingers more times than I can count—and now you’re laid out for me, dripping, desperate…”

He sinks two fingers into you with a sudden, slick thrust.

You cry out, back arching, stars bursting behind your eyelids. The stretch, the pressure—him—it’s too much and not enough at once. He groans softly under his breath, eyes fixed on where he’s inside you. “Fuck, you feel even better than I imagined.”

And still, he doesn’t speed up.

He moves slowly, deliberately, fucking you open with long, measured strokes. Watching your every reaction. Your every gasp. His Evol hums in the air again—subtle but present—pulling your hips closer, making it impossible to escape the rhythm of his hand.

“You wanted to be ruined, didn’t you?” he murmurs. “Wanted to come in here, put on my shirt, and make yourself fall apart thinking about my cock.”

Your moan is all the answer he needs. He curls his fingers inside you, finding that spot that makes your legs shake, and presses hard.

You shatter.

Your voice breaks around his name, your body convulsing under his touch as your climax rips through you like lightning—violent, needy, raw. And still, he doesn’t stop. His fingers keep moving, coaxing every last tremble from your body, watching you fall apart like it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“God, look at you,” he mutters, leaning over you now, his chest brushing your thighs, his breath hot against your neck. “You’re perfect. Mine.”

You grab for him, desperate for something to anchor you, but he catches your wrists and pins them above your head—not with force, but with gravity. You gasp, trembling under the weight of his Evol. Your body is still twitching, hypersensitive and spent—and yet, you’ve never felt more alive.

He leans in, his forehead brushing yours, and for a moment you see it—the crack in his armor. The soft part of him that’s completely ruined by you.

“I tried to be good,” he breathes, voice rough now, thick with emotion. “I tried to keep my hands off you. Tried to pretend I didn’t want to bury myself inside you every time you smiled at me.”

You blink up at him, dazed and dizzy and so, so full of him. 

“But I’m not pretending anymore.”

He lets go of your wrists. Grabs your thighs. And pushes them open wider. 

“You’re mine now,” he says. “And I’m not letting you go.” 

Your chest is still heaving when he moves back over you, his body heavy with restrained power, his gaze locked on yours with a feral kind of focus. His fingers are slick with you, his touch still lingering between your legs like a ghost—hot, consuming, impossible to forget.

You can’t stop trembling. And then you whisper, voice raw and wrecked. “Don’t stop.”

Caleb stills. Just for a breath. And then he smiles. Not soft. Not sweet.

Dark.

His fingers trail along your inner thigh again, lazy now, like he’s memorizing the shape of your need. “Oh, princess…” His voice drops into a low rasp, dragging through you like velvet. “You’re not done. Not even close.”

He kisses the inside of your knee, then higher, and higher—until you’re squirming again, body hypersensitive but already greedy for more.

You reach for him, still shaking. “I want you. Please, Caleb…”

His hands grip your hips hard, pinning you back into the mattress.

“You want me?” he murmurs, leaning in close, breath hot against your ear. “You want me like this? When I’m in control? When I’m fucking obsessed with the way you fall apart for me?”

You gasp. You shouldn’t love how it sounds—but god, you do. You nod, voice barely a whisper. “Yes… I want all of you.”

His hand slides slowly back down between your legs, two fingers teasing your folds again, gentle but commanding. “I bet you thought about it,” he growls, mouth at your jaw now, nipping at your skin. “Didn’t you?”

You blink up at him, dazed. “What…?”

“Me.” His other hand grabs your chin and turns your face to his. His gaze is molten. “At work. In my uniform. All cold and composed and untouchable while you sat there pretending you weren’t soaking wet under your station console.”

You let out a soft, broken whimper.

“You did think about it,” he says, satisfaction curling in his voice like smoke. “You thought about my hands on you while I barked orders. Thought about crawling under my desk, didn’t you? Obeying every word I said like a good little soldier.” 

Your breath stutters, your hips lifting into his hand again. His fingers slide against your entrance, teasing—never giving. You’re already soaking again, so needy you could cry.

“Say it,” he whispers against your throat. “Tell me what you thought about.” 

“I—” You swallow, body twitching under the weight of his words, of the ghost of his Evol still lingering around your limbs. “I watched you and I… I imagined you taking me in your office. Still in uniform. Rough. Like you couldn’t wait.”

He groans, low, like it’s been ripped from his chest.

“You like me rough, baby?” he breathes, voice no longer in control. “You like me when I’m like this?” 

You nod, desperate. “Yes—yes, Caleb—please—”

That’s all it takes.

He grabs your thighs, pulls you down the bed in one swift motion. His mouth crashes into yours—hungry, claiming, filthy—devouring every sound you make. He presses the head of his cock to your entrance, thick and hot and bare, dragging it slowly through your slick folds.

And then he pauses.

“You want this?” he asks, voice hoarse. “You want me to ruin you for anyone else?”

You’re breathless. Frantic. “Yes. Caleb, please—fuck me—”

He pushes in. One slow, devastating inch at a time, watching your face the entire time as your lips fall open, your back arches, and you shatter again without even meaning to.

He sinks into you slowly—so slowly it feels like your body might split apart just from the stretch. From the size of him, the weight of him, from the unbearable pleasure of finally, finally being filled by the man you’ve wanted for so long.

Your lips fall open in a silent gasp, your head pressing back into the pillow as your back arches off the bed.

“Fuuuck,” he groans, low and wrecked, forehead pressed to yours as he bottoms out. “You feel… god, you feel like heaven.” 

He doesn’t move at first. Just stays there, buried inside you to the hilt, holding himself still like he's barely hanging on.

And you realize—he’s shaking. Not from effort. From restraint.

You feel it in the way his fingers grip your hips just a little too tight. The way his jaw flexes. The way he moans—low and broken—when your walls clench around him, already begging for more.

“I’ve wanted this,” he whispers against your lips, voice rough and shaking. “So fucking long… Thought about it every night, thought about you on your knees, on my desk, under me in this bed—” 

He starts to move. 

Slow, deep thrusts that make your breath catch, that force little gasps from your mouth with each one. The sound of your bodies, of wet, slick need meeting brutal control, fills the room with something filthy and reverent all at once.

You cry out, nails clawing at his shoulders, but he doesn’t stop—won’t stop—just keeps driving into you with long, consuming strokes that reach the deepest parts of you. That stretch you in ways you’ve only ever dreamed about.

“You’re mine,” he growls, biting down on your shoulder hard enough to leave a mark. “Mine. Say it.”

“I’m—fuck—yours, Caleb, I’m yours, please—”

He grunts, snapping his hips harder, faster now, burying his face in your neck like he needs to breathe you in to survive.

“You gonna come for me, baby?” he whispers, voice almost gentle now, contrasting the way he’s pounding into you. “So fucking tight—so goddamn perfect—come on, give it to me.”

His hand slides down between you, fingers finding your clit with the same precision he uses on the battlefield. And it’s too much—the stretch, the pressure, the way he’s whispering your name like a prayer torn from his chest.

You come undone.

Your body clamps around him, shaking, spasming, screaming his name as the orgasm rips through you like a flood. You see stars—real ones, behind your eyes—white-hot and endless, your entire world collapsing inward.

He follows with a guttural groan, hips jerking erratically as he thrusts deep, grinding into you, spilling himself inside with a rough curse and your name broken on his lips. 

He collapses onto you, his weight grounding you, both of you drenched in sweat, breath ragged and uneven. His hand finds yours, fingers twining together like it’s the only way he can anchor himself. 

He doesn’t speak right away.

He just holds you. Inside you. Around you. Against you.

Then— “I’m never letting you go,” he says softly, fiercely, his lips against your cheek. “You’re mine now. In every way that matters.” 

And you believe him.

Because even in the silence that follows, you can still feel his gravity pulling you in.

Your body’s still trembling beneath him, boneless and soaked in sweat, skin flushed and glowing with the aftershock of your climax. Caleb’s still inside you, softening slowly, his weight pressing you into the mattress like an anchor—his breath ragged, his hand stroking lazily up and down your thigh like he can’t believe you’re real.

He lifts his head slightly, his lips brushing your temple.

“You okay?” he murmurs, voice gravelled and wrecked. “Didn’t hurt you?”

You nod, dazed, still high on the intensity of it all. “No. I’m okay.”

He smiles—just barely. A small, almost reverent thing. He leans down to kiss your shoulder, slow and lingering. And for a moment, you can feel it—the part of him that loves you in silence. That worships you even when he won’t say it out loud.

But then you shift beneath him. You roll onto your stomach. Slowly. Deliberately. And you look back at him over your shoulder, your eyes half-lidded, voice soft—but sharp.

“I’m not done.”

Caleb stills. His hand on your thigh freezes.

You reach back, tug his wrist just enough to make your point. “I don’t want soft.”

His breath catches. You arch your hips slightly, offering him the view—the slick, swollen heat of you still pulsing with need. His shirt is still bunched at your waist. Your skin’s glowing. Your mouth is parted. And you’re inviting him.

“Be rougher,” you whisper. “Please.”

His pupils blow wide.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he growls, kneeling behind you now, his cock already twitching back to life as he takes you in from behind. “You think I haven’t imagined this? You think I didn’t dream about what I’d do to you if I ever let myself go?”

You glance over your shoulder again, smirking. “Then show me.”

That’s all it takes.

In a blink, his hands are back on you—gripping, claiming. He spreads your thighs roughly, one hand pressing into the small of your back to arch you deeper while the other wraps tight around the base of your neck.

“Mine,” he growls.

And he pushes in again.

Hard.

You gasp—loud and helpless—as he fills you again in one sharp, punishing thrust. The stretch, the angle, the force—everything is overwhelming. Perfect. You cry out into the sheets, fingers clawing at the mattress as he starts to fuck you in earnest.

No gentleness. No hesitation. Just skin against skin. His hips slamming into yours. His hand wrapped tight around your neck—not choking, just holding. Dominating. Keeping you right where he wants you.

“You wanted this?” he pants behind you, every word punched between thrusts. “This is what you think about? Me taking you like this—owning you?”

“Yes—fuck, yes—Caleb—”

Your voice cuts off into a cry as his grip tightens slightly on your throat, just enough to make your vision blur, to make your body burn brighter with pleasure.

“Say it again,” he demands, his other hand sliding up your spine, holding you in place. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” you sob, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes from how good it feels. “I’m yours, I’m yours, please—”

His thrusts get faster, harder, the sound of skin slapping skin echoing through the room, mingling with your cries and his groans and the slick, desperate rhythm of your bodies colliding.

You’re so close again. So unbelievably close.

“Come for me again,” he growls, voice wrecked, as he pounds into you from behind. “Let me feel you—fucking take it, baby—”

And you do.

You break apart under him again, harder this time—louder. A scream torn from your throat as your orgasm crashes through you like a supernova. Your body convulses, squeezes him so tight that he curses and thrusts once, twice more before spilling into you with a roar, his hips slamming against your ass as he empties himself inside you.

He collapses over your back, chest heaving, arms shaking, holding himself up just enough not to crush you.

He doesn’t speak for a long time. Just breathes. Against your skin. Inside you. Around you.

Then— “I think I’ve completely lost my mind over you,” he mutters.

And the way he says it—quiet, hoarse, honest—undoes you more than anything else.

© zaynessbeloved 2025

.ᐟ✧ THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL ONLY POST HERE AND ON MY AO3.

.ᐟ✧ translations or reposts of my work on tumblr, ao3, or other sites ARE NOT permitted. please do not ask. do not reuse my blogpost headers, dividers, or layouts. these are original designs of my own. thank you!

taglist: @syluslittlecrows

[marauder-misprint]

Hi! I loved honeymoon phase could you please please please make a second part?

Hi! I'm so glad you liked Honeymoon Phase ❤︎ I wasn't sure if I was ever going to do part 2 but here we are! Hope you enjoy ❤︎

Second chances

Remus Lupin x fem!reader

1.5k words

cw: angst, hurt/comfort, steps toward forgiveness

You can feel it everywhere you go. Remus’ eyes on you. 

It had happened so quickly. You went from having Remus glued to your side to actively avoiding him. You were right when you ended things: you have nothing to say to him. 

Your friends had mixed reactions to the reasoning behind the breakup. Some said they were glad to have their friend back and that it was good to get out of a relationship where your partner is too controlling. Others said that you were too hasty and should have been more firm in your boundaries. But no matter how they felt about it, they stood by you. They made a habit of purposely standing between you and Remus and helping you disappear from sight when it looked like he was going to attempt to talk to you. 

The biggest issue you have is finding a new place to study. You can’t just pick a new table in the library; Remus would just move to that table. None of your friends liked studying in the library either. You refuse to study in your dorm and the common is always too busy and distracting. So you hole up in whichever empty alcove or window seat that you can find. In a desperate attempt to just be away from people, you even studied in the bell tower once. And then you immediately went back to the alcoves. 

Not that you noticed, but remorse and guilt filled Remus to the brim. Once the full moon passed and he could think like himself again, he could feel the true weight of how he had acted. He hated that he had been that possessive of you. And what made him feel worse? You won’t let him near you, you won’t look at him, you won’t allow him to talk to you. He knows he deserves it, but that doesn’t make dealing with it any easier. 

And all he wants to do is apologize. He wouldn’t mind if you’d give him a second chance, even if it was just a second chance at friendship. But he needs to apologize to you to be able to live with himself. 

As time passes, your friends stop guarding you as diligently. You’ve told them you’re good, that you’re fine. You can handle it if he approaches you, not that you’ll give him the time of day if he does. But you still avoid the library as much as you can since you know he’ll be there and you’re just not ready for that step yet. 

Finding a place to work on homework tonight is being particularly difficult. All your new spots were taken and you’re about to accept defeat and study in your dorm. But there’s one last spot: the Astronomy Tower. You figure there’s no way that the tower is empty when everywhere is full. The Astronomy Tower, when not being used for class, was a nice place to relax and look out over castle grounds. 

To your absolute delight, it’s empty. You sigh a breath of relief and get settled. It’s peaceful. Comfortable. You could sit up here alone for hours. Which is what you end up doing, for longer than you originally intended. 

You don’t recall falling asleep, but you must have. It’s dark out and there’s a gentle hand on your shoulder. You rub the sleep out of your eyes. The glint of a Prefect badge catches your eye and you groan. You had just been trying to study and now you’re surely getting detention or losing house points. 

“Hey, you’re not supposed to be out right now.” 

You squeeze your eyes shut again. You forgot that Remus was a Prefect. And of course, it was just your luck that he’d be the one to find you on the one night you’re accidentally out past curfew. 

“Come on, you should get to bed.” 

Nope. This was real. Not a dream. Great. 

“Didn’t realize I fell asleep…” you mutter as you open your eyes again and begin to gather your things that are still splayed out around you.

He chuckles softly. “History tends to be a great sedative.” 

You don’t say anything for a little bit. You’re more focused on collecting your things so you can disappear into your dorm. You’d rather be anywhere but here right now. Once you have everything, you stand up and dust yourself off. You don’t look at Remus. Like always, you can feel his eyes on you.

“So what’s the damage? Fifteen points? Detention?” you ask quietly.

“You fell asleep doing homework. I’m not taking points for that,” he says. “I just need to walk you back to your common room.” 

You nod and head toward the stairs. You know you should be thanking Remus for going easy on you, but you can feel that it’s going to be an awkward walk. You’re not going to feed the awkwardness. 

Remus, however, does not get that memo. 

“I wanted to say I’m sorry,” he says once you descend the first flight of stairs. 

“It’s whatever,” you say flatly. “I’ve moved past it, you’ve moved past it. Don’t worry ‘bout it.” 

Remus frowns and hesitantly reaches out for your arm. His fingers brush your bicep but he doesn’t grab you. You freeze at his touch.

“Who said I moved past it?” he whispers. 

“I… I just assumed, sorry. You stopped trying to talk to me at every turn…” 

All Remus wants at this moment is for you to look at him. You are doing everything in your power to look at anything but him. You’ve never found the handrail so interesting. 

“I got the message that you didn’t want to talk to me.”

“I don’t.” 

“But I need to apologize. I don’t know what came over me.” A lie, but that wasn’t something he could tell you. At least, not now. “I shouldn’t have treated you that way, like a possession. Something that I didn’t have to share. You were my longest relationship.”

“Take it as a lesson then. You have to be patient with your girlfriends and let them have time with their friends.” You pause and sigh. “That’s all I wanted. A few moments with my friends because I had been giving you all my time. It wasn’t fair that you got to keep yours while mine faded into the background, you know?”

“Yeah, I know.” 

Remus hangs his head. He feels the possibility of being friends again slipping through his fingers. Then, for the first time of the night, you look at him. His stance, his posture, is that of a remorseful man. You sigh again, louder this time, and lean against the wall. When Remus looks at you, he has the most pitiful expression on his face. 

“So what do you want?” you ask bluntly.

“Huh?”

“I’m not dumb. You’re letting me off easy for being out past curfew and you’ve given me an apology for something that couldn’t gone unapologized for.”

He runs a hand through his hair nervously. 

“I was… Fuck, Merlin knows I don’t deserve it, but maybe, I was hoping you’d have it in you to give me a second chance?” His words come out slowly and unsure before he starts to ramble. “Like I said, I know I don’t deserve it, but I’m also not over you. I really, really like you and I want a do-over. I won’t mess it up this time, I promise. I’d promise you the world. I swear on anything you want me to that I won’t mess it up. I’ll treat you better. We’ll hang out with your friends. You’ll hang out with your friends without me. Because, fuck, I really like you and I didn’t realize how much until-”

You put your hand over his mouth.

“Just… shut up for a second.” You hold your hand over his mouth for another second until he nods. “You want a second chance?”

He nods again. He wasn’t sure if you wanted him to talk just yet. 

“You’re aware that you’re the reason I was up here in the first place?” He shakes his head. “Can’t risk running into you in the library. And I needed a place to study.”

Remus doesn’t know how to respond so he doesn’t do anything. Then you start walking down the next flight of stairs. 

“Where are you going?” he asks, quickly moving to follow you.

“I’m supposed to be being escorted to my common room, remember?” 

“Okay, but where does that leave us?” 

“Remus, there’s no us. If you want a second chance at that, you’re going to have to give me more time. But I’m going to study in the library. Please don’t sit at whatever table I’m at. I’ll sit at yours when I’m ready. And, I guess, we can go from there. Okay?”

“Okay.” 

The rest of the walk to your common room is quiet. The chance at friendship isn’t gone. There is a chance if Remus continues to give you the space that you need. He needs to allow you time to forgive him. Space and time. Remus can give you that. If it yields the possibility of getting you back, Remus will give you all the space and time you need. He will be patient with you, as he’s promised. 

Tags: @navs-bhat, @yearninglustfully, @ilovejamespottersomuch, @bmyva1entine

[mollywog]

Hi!

I can't stop thinking about this scenario i'm your complicated universe:

Burdock is now showing off his granddaughter.

Thank you for letting me know: I’m so tickled!! It inspired me to write a small addition.

For context, Complicated is an in-Panem AU where Mr. Everdeen lives and this would have happened anyway happens much sooner.

Shout out to all who suggested names for the Toastbaby girl for this universe!

Haymitch first saw the girl at the Hob when she was just a baby. Burdock was so proud of her, toting her everywhere. Katniss soon outgrew his arms, trailing behind him with her own scrawny squirrels on her belt, until she was striding beside him with just as much to show as her old man.

They’d never mended the old wound, he and Burdock, but he still paid particular attention to the Everdeens. That way, if Lenore Dove’s ghost ever came to him, he’d be able to tell her of her kin— at least that’s what he told himself.

And recently there’d been a new branch added to the family tree.

Haymitch had watched the girl— Katniss, over the last several months as her belly’d swelled near splitting, until he’d worked himself up worrying it’d be twins— but then he’d learned the father was one of Otho’s boys and her size had made sense.

He’s heard she delivered— a healthy little girl, but it’s just luck that he’s at the Hob today when Burdie arrives, his bundle in tow.

He doesn’t see her right away, just the unmistakable pride on his old friend’s face as he introduces her around.

Haymitch has no reason to linger, his business with Ripper complete, but he can’t resist the urge to get a peek of the girl and any information he can glean, so he sidles up to Sae’s stall and sits at the booth. He ignores the old woman’s raised brow, carelessly pulling a fistful of coins from his pocket. Gone is the bribe and the questioning looks as the bowl of something he rather not contemplate slides across the counter. He hunches over the stew, running his spoon through the sludge, straining his ears to catch crumbs as Burdock moves closer.

Bits and pieces of conversations float over the chatter and Haymitch’s chest tightens at the sound of his friend's voice, so achingly familiar and comforting despite all the years, until the girl’s name shakes him out of his revelry.

Olive?

He scoffs, frowning at Sae’s knowing smirk.

Like the food? He supposes it’s an improvement from the tuberous roots for which mother and grandfather are named…

But no, it’s not just a food. He turns the name over again. It’s a color— green— a dark yellowish green like the moss that’s begun to grow over Lenore Dove’s grave stone, though he doubts that’s what the happy parents were imagining when they picked it. Still a nod to Burdie’s family perhaps? But color alone does not a Covey name make. He briefly wonders if there’s a ballad of Olive Mellark.

He really hopes not.

But there’s still something that nags at the back of his muddled mind. He closes his eyes to clear his head, but instead an image floods his memory: the floor of a Justice building on his tour long ago— a mosaic depicting a bird with a bough — no, that's not quite right— a dove with an olive branch.

He breaks into a sweat and his stomach rolls. Unbidden, his eyes seek out the source of his distress; the tiny girl, swaddled in a dove colored blanket, with a muted orange ribbon accenting the scalloped edge.

It’s as if someone has walked over his grave— no, not his— Lenore Dove’s— but aren't they the same thing? They’re a matched pair, mated for life, more married than any piece of paper could make them. And that girl is his kin too. Beloved and endangered if he cannot fulfill his promise to Lenore Dove.

“Don’t you . . . let it . . . rise . . . on the reaping”

He stands abruptly, knocking the stool over in his wake. He gives the girl— no, Olive, one final look before retreating back to his house. He won’t waste another minute; There’s work to be done.

[s0lidar1ty]

The Beginning

pair: toxic!rafe cameron x fem!eader cw: Toxic relationships, emotional manipulation, verbal abuse, angst, mentions of grief/loss, slight profanity.

Rafe had never been taken care of before. After his mother's death, he always fought for Ward’s attention. He tried being a good kid, showing up to school, doing his work, and cleaning up around the house, but the only thing Ward cared about was when something went wrong. That's when he finally paid attention. So, Rafe does the only thing he can and starts acting out. 

He stayed out later than he was supposed so, damn near flunked out of school but somehow managed to graduate, stopped taking care of things. He didn’t want to, but it got his dad's attention.

Deep down, Rafe is just a little boy in need of love. Of nurturing and comfort.

That’s where you came in.

You had been a family friend of the Camerons from when you and they were small. You practically lived with them. You came over every day and stayed till night, rinse and repeat. Eventually, you moved in. Your mother thought it best since she couldn’t afford to house you and deal with the expenses of a funeral. Ward was fine with it, he loved you like one of his own. 

After their mother's death, Rafe and Sarah closed themselves off from friends, Everyone gave up on them for a while, everyone but you. You knew what they were going through. You hated that you could relate, but that wouldn’t bring your father back, would it?

You insisted on being near them and helping them when they needed it but refused to ask. You were always there. Even as you three grew up and Sarah began to heal. Sarah started to do good. She helped around Figure 8, cared for the little animals and rodents the best she knew how. She found her happiness in nature. She was fine with that; she wasn’t angry or sad anymore. She was just. She was okay.

Rafe, on the other hand, went down the exact opposite path. He became selfish. He got mean, saying hurtful things to everybody, even his sister. You didn’t recognize the person you were seeing. What happened to the sweet boy in 5th grade who stood up to bullies? When did he become one himself? 

Sarah stayed out more and more just to avoid Rafe and his outbursts. But now, with her gone, all his anger is directed at you.

You’re in the kitchen prepping dinner. You and Rafe, despite being estranged, had a lot in common. Steak bites with mash potatoes being one of them. The last time you recall him eating it was a couple of weeks before his mother's passing. 

Was this too much?

I mean, it’s his childhood favorite food—what if you made it wrong or he didn’t like it because it wasn’t like his mom's? 

You push down your overwhelming thoughts and continue, cleaning the steaks and cutting them into cubes. You move to the stove, turning it on and buttering the skillet. You hear the front door open and assume it’s Sarah coming to get more clothes before heading out again.

“Hey, Sare!” You call from the kitchen. You don’t get a response, which you find odd but shrug off, going back to the steak to season it.

“Why’re you still here?” The sound of Rafe’s voice makes you jump. You turn around, chucking off the scare.

“I wanted to make dinner-”

“So you’re a nanny now?” He interrupts.

You make a confused face. “How does cooking make me a nanny?”

“Because you’re acting like we need you to cook for us. You’re always here, always pestering somebody—why can’t you be more like Sarah and leave once in a while?” he says harshly. “I mean, fuck,” he chuckles, “We don’t even want you here anymore.”

Your smile drops. “Right,” you say simply. You turn to the stove once again, your back facing him as your eyes fill with frustrating tears.

Rafe stares at you for a minute. Usually, talking down on people made him feel better, so why was his heart hurting the way it was?

He walks away.

[buddie-has-me-in-a-chokehold]

sit tight, this is a long one.

Okay, i’m gonna be so honest, i’m actually scared of what’s gonna happen in the next episode, like it’s a few hours away and im genuinely scared… but i am terrified for episode 13.

Im not sure if this is completely accurate but ive seen a couple people saying it’s eddie centric and it’s 65 minutes long. i cannot stress this enough, this is a procedural network show, they had to negotiate with the network to allow them an extra 20 minutes, EVERYTHING in that episode was intentional and necessary.

i was talking to my friend and we discussed possible outcomes and for the near future we have 3 potentials.

1. eddie comes back because he realizes his feelings for buck.

2. eddie realizes his feelings but isn’t ready to address them and he stays in texas.

3. (least favourite option) Eddie’s goodbye.

now i absolutely hate it but i really feel like it might be option 3 and im petrified. i have a few reasons that im leaning towards this and im going to stress, please convince me otherwise.

so first, the writers have set up the idea of buck living in eddie’s house for possibly up to a year. in 8.09 we have the interaction between buck and eddie where eddie states he signed a new lease for a year and needs to let his house or he will be bleeding cash. so we already have the potential for eddie to be letting his house for up to a year and this has been mentioned. the thing is, there was no need to add the timeline here unless to potentially imply he could come back or he’s planning on being gone for a while.

to branch off that last point, if he is leaving for a while, why wouldn’t he just stay? its no secret that eddie is a great father and will put chris’ needs before his own, we saw how he would fake a smile on calls with chris to try to be supportive. he’s willingly going back to texas because he wants chris to do what he needs to do but he can’t keep watching his son grow up through facetime. so… if chris is settled, which he clearly is (he’s had a birthday party with friends and family, he’s in chess club, he’s forming a life there), eddie wouldn’t drag him back to LA. He’s been there for months now, he’s happy, eddie wouldn’t force him, kicking and screaming, to come back to LA.

now i will admit, this last one may be a reach but ive been thinking none stop about this since last week, Eddie has changed over the last few episodes. understandable, his son left and now lives in a different state with eddies parents who have continuously tried to take him from eddie, but ive noticed some things.

for instance, a lot of people compared eddie and tommy’s interactions with buck because eddie knew buck, inside and out, and understood buck as if they could speak a language only they understand. Tommy couldn’t. Tommy would make jokes at bucks expense but not with the same warmth and care that eddie did. eddie was always fond, tommy felt patronizing. and recently ive been seeing a disconnect between eddie and buck, the most obvious being eddie not seeing that buck was lashing out because he’s scared of being abandoned.

the audience could see plain as day that buck was hurt and felt he was about to be abandoned, eddie takes it as buck trying to make him choose between his best friend and his son. it feels reminiscent of the divorce era.

as i said, i don’t want to believe it but i’ve been noticing things and i keep seeing people being so excited about buddie but im honestly scared. this seems too complicated and i also feel like potentially, a big factor in this will be chris’ feelings.

Chris has obvious and completely valid concerns when it comes to eddies significant others, we have shannon (i personally liked shannon but she was definitely flawed, so im not bashing her character just stating facts) who walked out and abandoned her son and husband not long after eddie returned from war, he had been injured, was traumatized and had no idea how to balance being a single dad and working and healing. when she came back she was only around for a short while before she died and that traumatized chris. he was having nightmares about her in the tsunami… boy was troubled! Then we had ana, who started out as chris’ teacher, became a huge part of his life and then eddie broke up with her and she was gone. then marisol, met, dated, moved in, moved out and then eddie cheats on her with his dead wife’s doppelgänger. Chris absolutely has concerns and they’re completely understandable. I can see chris being very wary of buck and eddie because buck is so important to chris and doesn’t want anything destroying that relationship. i’m not implying chris has an issue with eddie being gay but just that he wouldn’t trust his dad not to destroy things with buck. then, because eddie only wants to fix things with chris, he disregards what he could have with buck and stays in texas.

the parallels with abby’s departure and to previous conflicts between buck and eddie just make me think it’s not going to end well. i feel like if anything we’re gonna see buck character development throughout the years in how he handles losing eddie compared to abby.

Please convince me otherwise because im scared.

[jscrawls]

.. addams ! reader x deadpool

like image it? a match made in hell. reader LOVEE toturing wade and wade is just used to it, oops, a hatchet ended in his head! that ok! gomez and him swordfight

OOO HANG ON THIS SO GOOD THO

Warning: murder talk and physical harm mention

Thinking about Addams reader in marvel, they never lost their original house so they're still living near Morticia and Gomez's Manor just on the opposite side of the cemetery to them.

Being the weird little creature they are, Addams reader spends a lot of time in odd or wayward places since they get bored easily, one of those places lead to them accidentally pissing off a low level Mafia-wannabe boss when they overpaid a random barkeep that just so happened to be over if the few lackeys they had. the wannabe boss was holding a debt over his head and threatening him to either pay him off or work for him if he didn't want his legs broken.

Well reader kept paying for their drinks with gold coins like a weirdo so now that lackey was able to pay the debt in full and got the hell out of town.

The boss was obviously incensed but didn't exactly have the manpower or pull to take out a billionaire just for overpaying someone, so what'd he do? Found a Facebook marketplace hitman that was offering services cheaper than fifty bucks.

You'd just been going out to your yard to clear out some pesky rose bushes that didn't seem to want to die, hatchet in hand when the red and black clad lunatic tried to jump you.

It was pure, Looney toons-esque luck that you'd turned mid swing when you'd heard the noise, sinking the sharpened steel into the center of his forehead with a sickening thunk.

Obviously you were shocked, moreso by the sight of a stranger holding a katana in your yard than the murder, but still.

You went to pull your garden hatchet free from his head while plotting out where to bury him, but as soon as your fingers wrapped around the bloodstained wooden handle of it the man sat bolt upright while growling like a drunk dog. Oh dear, should you take him to a hospital if he's alive?

The man had other plans as he tried to wriggle the hatchet free, as soon as it dropped to the ground he jumped to his feet and pulled a gun out of.... Somewhere? He pointed it right at your face before he spoke.

"that... Was a lucky shot...." He grunts out before slapping himself and shaking his head, this is all very strange, even to you.

"....I believe the poor things got brain damage, would you like me to put you out of your misery, my friend?" You squat down to pick up the hatchet again, you could bury him by the weeds?

"not happening sugar pea, I'm actually killing you right now so say your prayers or whatever you do, hurry up chop chop so I can chop chop you."he gestures broadly with the gun before quickly pointing it back at you, his gloved thumb pulling the hammer back with a quiet click.

"oh, you're killing me right now?" You tilt you head confusedly, this is much more interesting than gardening!

"right now yes, I know it's hard to comprehend your final moments but-"

"oh go ahead."you interrupt, staring at him expectantly as he falls quiet at that.

"..... That's not the usual response to a death threat?."

"really? I think dying to an armed stranger in my own backyard is quite interesting! Wait, where did you come from? How did I get your attention worth killing me over!? I'd like to know so I can tell the entities on the other side."

"you pissed in some money launderers Cheerios somehow so he scrounged the dark web to eventually find the very best of the best for this, the this being murdering you until you're very, very dead. It's just business cupcake, I'm sure you understand. Not that I care if you don't obviously."

He scratches the side of his head with the barrel of the gun, smearing his own blood on the barrel. for some reason he's still just watching you instead of the aforementioned murder so you're getting just a little impatient.

"that's... Disappointing." You sigh dramatically and drop the hatchet on the ground, nearly sulking like a child.

"what, is it setting in? I'll do it quick if you just hold still...." he points the gun at you again and pulls the hammer back.

"no, no it's not that...I had hoped that perhaps my family had drunkenly cursed you with your resilience, or maybe a jilted lover hired you....I mean absolutely no offense to you sir, but that's just a bit boring for my personal taste!"

You sadly pick the tool back up to drag your nails against the edge of the hatchet repeatedly, and hate you'd hoped that one day you'd go out in a fiery blaze with an angry mob around you, demanding your blood...

The costumed man exasperatedly drops his arm to sassily put his hand on his hip, like he's personally affronted that you're disappointed here. "... Your personal taste in your own murder? I'm questioning the authors choices for you. I'm questioning why it matters?....If you want I could pretend I'm someone else?"

He paces away from you, leaning against a poison ivy vine-covered tree so he can cross his arms aggressively over his chest.

You just shrug, smearing blood and brain fluid around with you fingertips. "no, no. The thrills gone, role-playing won't fix things when it'll all still be on my mind."

"hmm.... What if I assassinate you in an interesting way? I could behead you, or strangle you with your own intestines? My buyer didn't specify how I do this so I could beat you to death with my sticky unicorn stuffy?"

You tilt your head in confusion. "why is it sticky?"

His voice drops a decibel, the most serious you've heard him this entire time. "I don't think you want to know why."

You decide against questioning him so you just nod, draping the hatchet over your shoulder and gesturing towards your home with your free hand.

"I see! how about we discuss this in the house? the weather's getting dreadful out here, what with the sun coming out and all."

After a moment of considerable silence, the man readily agrees with a shrug and a hum.

"sounds good to me, you know this leather and spandex gets a little right in the worst places when you sweat in it..."

His voice echoes around the garden as you lead him towards your house, what's the worst that could happen anyways? He's only going to kill you.

🔹🔹🔹

+ Bonus +

"cousins! Morticia and kids! Come and meet my new lover! The one I've been telling you all about!"

You shout loudly as soon as you push the doors of an ancient manor swing open, the wood creaking loudly before slamming behind you and wade, seemingly as if by an unseen force.

"this place stinks worse than precessor X's cha-"

Wade starts to say before shutting up when a lion strolls into the front room.

You immediately coo at kitty and squat down to pet them, not that you needed to squat since the big cat sets it's large head on top of yours and rubs against you while chuffing.

Wade steps around the scene in a broad circle, then steps away from you to look around the oddly decorated place.

Just as he bends over to look at a mummified hand in a glass case something stabs into his back. "huzzah! Never leave your back exposed to an attack!"

Wade jumps like a startled cat, sword still stuck in his spine as he spins around and attempts to draw his katana out. "What the actual queen Elizabeth shit?!"

Your cousin Gomez jumps back while straightening his thin mustache, pulling out a second fencing sword from who knows where as a crazed grin stretches across his face. he looks over wades now bloody costume with manic approval.

Wade pauses, sword half-drawn as he looks at you quizzically, as if asking if he's supposed to do something here. You happily clap your hands as you step away from kitty to watch the two men closely.

"cousin gomez! Giving Wade a warm family welcome i see. Well do go on boys, I won't interrupt your playtime!"

With your apparent approval and Gomez getting into a stance, Wade just shrugs and pulls one of his katanas out.

"I've had weirder family meetings anyways, let's fucking party!"

🔹🔹🔹

| m.list |

My first time ever writing wade so go easy on me 😭 also eyy my first marvel piece posted! 🥹

[tj-crochets]

Do you have a particular organization you work with for providing disaster relief?

At the moment, no. My dad and several of my neighbors have been helping out with various local groups, but so far my donations have been things like clothes I had on hand that happened to be the size my neighbor's coworker, who lost their house in a flood, needed, or stuff like that The baby blankets are going to a different neighbor's kid's school, who is arranging donations for...I think it's a particular city but I am not sure how to reveal what city without giving away where I live more precisely than I really want to? I live close enough to the flooding that I don't really need to work with an organization, because everyone in my neighborhood is at max two degrees of separation from someone who lost everything in the floods. I can give things, including baby blankets, directly to the families affected. I mean, that said, I am giving them to my neighbors to distribute, but that's because I can't drive and a lot of the places donations are going you can't drive to at the moment anyway. One of my neighbors is organizing people with ATVs to go take food, water, fuel, and other necessities up to some of the communities that currently have no road access I got very, very lucky with where I live and the infrastructure that happened to be in place*. There was severe flooding less than ten minutes away from where I live in more than one direction, but where I live made it and enough of the roads are intact to be able to get out. Some routes are more circuitous than they used to be, but it's still possible

*by happened to be in place I mean in my particular neighborhood and the work my dad has had done in our yard, not the rest, I know a lot of people over a lot of years made the infrastructure of the larger area

[swordmaid]

still thinking about the haikaveh 13 going on 30 inspired au .. like imagine kaveh going home drunk and upset after a bad meeting with a client. he’s presented his 8th draft of the project and there’s still something wrong with it. kaveh doesn’t want to compromise his own vision, and the client is adamant with his own, so they ended up just arguing instead of working on a compromise. then he goes to the tavern to cheer himself up but after a few drinks the bartender refused to serve him anymore since he still hasn’t paid his last tab and the bartender had been putting his current one under alhaitham’s. so kaveh goes home, drunk and upset at his client and also at the thought that he’ll owe alhaitham even more.

and when kaveh goes home alhaitham is lounging on a sofa and the books kaveh asked for him to clean isn’t put away yet. that little detail ticked him off - here’s alhaitham who doesn’t have any work to do at home and yet he doesn’t even bother to do the one thing kaveh asks him for. meanwhile kaveh has to go home late from a meeting that didn’t earn him anything and he’s even more in debt after alhaitham finds out about his tab. so, kaveh’s already drunk and upset and NOW annoyed he starts to argue with alhaitham. first it’s the fact that alhaitham hasn’t cleared away his books yet. then, alhaitham points out that he’s over-exerting himself for a client that’s not even paying him (he doesn’t need to be reminded of that!) then, kaveh argues that instead of trying to point out his failings why can’t he just console his clearly upset and stressed roommate like everyone else and if he was more compassionate about other people, maybe he’ll get along with other people better!! then cue the petty argument exploding into something bitter. kaveh is upset, drunk, and rambling, going on and on about how he doesn’t want to keep sacrificing his artistic integrity, and why can’t people just appreciate his art, and it would’ve been better if he never met alhaitham to begin with so he won’t be indebted to him and maybe his life wouldn’t turn out so badly. the argument only ends after alhaitham goes into his room clearly upset – the kind of upset kaveh was all too familiar with all those years ago — and now kaveh feels shitty and hurt and drunk and he wants to vomit so he passes out on the couch.

then, he wakes up in a room clearly different from their house.

the architectural style of the room is a marriage between the tumbling vines and glass windows of sumeru and the rigid structures and flow of fontaine’s. the couch he’s sleeping on isn’t the green divan alhaitham is fond of ; it’s a blue chaise with velour fabric that’s half as soft.

kaveh panics, looks around the room, then finds achievements displayed on the wall: articles and papers praising his name, pictures with the liyue qixing infront of a renovated and expanded golden house, one next to the fontaine archon besides an opulent theatre. there are articles of his latest creations, interviews with the man himself headlining the steambird, written papers and thesis about architecture published in the akademiya. kaveh learns that he’s not the light of kreshrarewar anymore ; he’s the most famous and accomplished architect in all of teyvat.

but alhaitham is not here anymore.

[fionnaskyborn]

current mood:

[sonarspace]

❝ TOUCH ME, TAKE ME, KISS ME ❞

ft. gojo, geto & shoko. (4some)

꒰ synopsis. where celebrating new year’s with your best friends turns into something much more intimate—one kiss at midnight isn’t nearly enough.

warnings. MDNI. college au. fem! reader, fōursome, mutual pining, unprotected p in v, orāl (f! and m! receiving), fingerıng (f! and m! receiving), clıt stimulation, overstimulation, dirty talk, shared partner dynamics, voyeurism, slight dom/sub vibes, hair pulling, teasing, praise kink, body worship, light biting/marking, cųm play, & multiple orgasmś.

the cabin was exactly what you’d expect from satoru gojo – unnecessarily luxurious, tucked away on the outskirts of a snowy mountain town, and equipped with every amenity that screamed rich kid with too much money to burn.

“seriously, satoru, who the hell needs a jacuzzi in their living room?” shoko teased, setting her duffel down by the entryway. the bubbling water glowed from the built-in lights, steam curling lazily into the warm space.

gojo smirked, shoving his hands into the pockets of his black hoodie. “it’s about the vibes, shoko. the experience. and, i dunno, maybe i just like having options.”

geto, sitting cross-legged on the couch, glanced up from his phone. “yeah? and when’s the last time you used it?”

“hey, i brought you guys here, didn’t i? sounds like ungrateful energy to me,” gojo shot back, though his grin didn’t waver.

you chuckled softly, toeing off your boots near the fireplace, letting the heat seep through your socks. the large windows stretched across the far wall, showcasing the snow falling steadily outside, blanketing the trees under the silver moonlight.

“he’s right, though,” you chimed in, peeling off your jacket. “we could’ve rung in the new year at some regular house party. but instead, we’re here. cozy, secluded... not the worst way to spend our last new year as college students.”

“see? someone gets it,” gojo said, flashing you that familiar, lopsided grin.

you rolled your eyes, but the truth was, you didn’t mind. the four of you had been close since your freshman year, and as the years piled up, so did the late-night study sessions, spontaneous road trips, and drunken confessions after long nights out. this felt like a full-circle moment. one final hurrah before graduation came sweeping in to change everything.

shoko tossed herself onto the couch beside geto, tugging off her beanie and shaking out her hair. “so, what’s the plan? drinking games until midnight, or are we just free-styling it?”

“why not both?” suguru said, stretching an arm behind her, fingers brushing lightly against your shoulder where you leaned against the armrest. the contact was subtle, but you felt it linger.

gojo raised a brow, tilting his head dramatically. “i was thinking strip poker.”

shoko snorted, flicking his forehead. “sure. you’d be naked in five minutes.”

“is that supposed to be a problem?”

your eyes flickered to suguru, catching the small smirk pulling at his lips. his gaze met yours for half a second, dark eyes flickering with something unreadable, before dropping back to his phone.

this wasn’t the first time you’d caught the lingering tension between everyone – the casual touches, the way shoko’s gaze would sometimes linger on you a little too long, or the moments gojo’s hands would rest on your lower back at parties, guiding you through crowds when he didn’t really need to.

you weren’t oblivious. but none of you had ever crossed that line.

yet.

“alright, let’s start with drinks,” you suggested, pushing yourself to your feet. “anyone want to help me?”

“i got it,” geto said, standing with an easy grace. “come on.”

as the two of you headed into the kitchen, shoko and gojo’s quiet laughter echoed softly from the living room, the crackling fire filling the otherwise silent cabin.

suguru leaned against the counter, watching as you rummaged through the cabinets.

“so,” he started, his voice low and smooth, “how are you feeling about tonight?”

you glanced over your shoulder. “in general? or is this a ‘we’re about to graduate, what are you doing with your life?’ kind of question?”

his lips quirked. “both, maybe.”

you sighed, grabbing a bottle of whiskey. “i’m trying not to think about it too hard. tonight’s about celebrating, not panicking about the future.”

he nodded thoughtfully, but his eyes lingered.

“you know,” he mused, stepping closer, “satoru’s not wrong. it is kind of a waste to let this cabin go to waste.”

“what are you suggesting?” you teased, pouring the whiskey into a glass.

suguru’s gaze dipped, trailing over you slowly before flicking back to your eyes. “just saying… midnight’s a good time for new experiences.”

heat prickled your skin under his stare, but before you could respond, gojo’s voice rang out from the other room.

“hey, you two! quit flirting and bring the damn drinks!”

you laughed, but suguru didn’t move right away. instead, his fingers brushed lightly against your wrist as he grabbed the bottle from the counter, his touch lingering just long enough to make your breath hitch.

yeah. tonight was going to be interesting.

the drinks flowed easily, laughter spilling into the warm cabin air as the four of you huddled near the fireplace, sprawled across the plush rugs and oversized pillows. suguru sat beside you, his knee brushing yours with every shift, while gojo leaned against the couch, one long arm lazily slung around shoko’s shoulders.

“alright,” gojo drawled, tipping back his glass. his eyes glittered behind those obnoxious shades he insisted on wearing inside. “time for a game.”

“drinking game?” shoko asked, already halfway through her second glass of whiskey.

“nope.” gojo’s smirk curled wickedly. “truth or dare.”

you snorted, shaking your head. “what are we? sixteen?”

“don’t knock it,” suguru said smoothly, his eyes half-lidded as he sipped his drink. “it could be fun. besides, satoru’s incapable of suggesting anything mature.”

gojo shot him a look. “this coming from the guy who suggested skinny dipping in the hot tub an hour ago.”

“that was different. it was an intellectual suggestion.”

“sure it was.”

shoko waved a hand dismissively. “fine. truth or dare it is. but no stupid shit like licking the floor or whatever. we’re not in a frat house.”

gojo grinned, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. “who’s starting?”

your hand shot up, aiming for the path of least resistance. “truth.”

“boring,” gojo muttered, but there was mischief behind the slight pout. “alright, fine. if you had to kiss one of us at midnight, who would it be?”

the room fell quiet for a beat too long. you felt three sets of eyes zero in on you, the weight of their attention thick enough to taste.

“uh—” you faltered, heat crawling up your neck.

“careful,” suguru murmured beside you, voice low and teasing. “we’ll know if you’re lying.”

your gaze flicked to his, catching the flicker of something darker in his expression. your heart thudded a little harder.

“i dunno,” you hedged, taking a slow sip of your drink. “depends on the mood, i guess.”

gojo leaned closer, grinning like he’d already won. “that’s not an answer.”

“then take it as my answer.”

shoko laughed, leaning back against the couch cushions. “she’s playing it safe. smart girl.”

but the tension lingered, subtle but persistent, weaving through the air like smoke.

“my turn,” suguru cut in smoothly, tilting his head toward gojo. “truth or dare?”

“dare, obviously.”

“kiss shoko.”

“easy.”

without hesitation, gojo leaned down and pressed a slow, deliberate kiss to shoko’s lips. she didn’t pull away – if anything, her hand slid lazily up his arm, nails grazing lightly against his skin before they parted.

“you guys have done that before,” you pointed out, trying to ignore the heat twisting low in your stomach.

“multiple times,” shoko replied, smirking. “you’re late to the party.”

gojo winked. “jealous?”

“not particularly.”

but the idea lodged itself somewhere deep. maybe it was the alcohol warming your veins, or the way suguru’s hand rested against the small of your back, light but possessive, but the thought lingered.

midnight wasn’t that far off.

the countdown started around 11:50. the drinks were mostly forgotten by then, the four of you curled closer near the fire, the alcohol buzzing quietly in your heads.

“five minutes,” gojo announced, his voice dropping to something smoother, almost suggestive. “better start thinking about that kiss.”

shoko stretched her legs out, crossing them at the ankles. “maybe we should just kiss each other. take the guesswork out of it.”

your stomach flipped at her casual tone, but when you glanced at suguru, his gaze was already fixed on you.

“not opposed,” he said softly.

gojo made a low hum of approval, sitting up straighter. “why not?”

“you’re all serious about this?” you asked, voice tipping toward incredulous, but your pulse betrayed you, hammering against your ribs.

“you’re curious,” suguru countered, brushing his knuckles against your thigh.

and you were. the tension had been building for years – subtle glances, fleeting touches, unspoken things hanging just out of reach.

“alright,” you relented, the words tasting like adrenaline on your tongue. “fine.”

the countdown echoed on the tv screen, bright against the dim cabin.

ten.

nine.

suguru shifted closer, his thigh pressed against yours.

eight.

seven.

gojo’s gaze dropped to your lips, his grin softer, teasing.

six.

shoko leaned into your side, her arm brushing yours.

five.

four.

your breath hitched as suguru’s hand curled under your chin, tilting your face toward his.

three.

two.

one.

their lips met yours at the same time – suguru’s mouth warm and steady, while shoko’s was softer, tasting faintly of whiskey.

you lost yourself in it, your hand fisting in suguru’s shirt as gojo’s hand brushed against your lower back, slipping lower, pulling you closer.

and just like that, the line dissolved completely.

the kiss started playful—soft touches, slow exploration—but the heat behind it caught quickly, sparking into something heavier. suguru’s fingers brushed your jaw, coaxing your lips open as his tongue slid against yours, slow and possessive. shoko’s mouth trailed along your neck, leaving wet kisses against your pulse, while gojo’s hand slipped under the hem of your sweater, his palm warm as it splayed across your waist.

you broke the kiss with suguru only to meet shoko’s lips, her tongue teasing against yours as she pressed closer, her hands slipping down to rest on your thighs. the space between the four of you seemed to vanish, replaced by the weight of wandering hands and shared breaths.

gojo groaned softly, nipping at suguru’s bottom lip before tugging him back by the collar, stealing a kiss that left no room for subtlety. suguru didn’t resist, his hand tangling in gojo’s hair, tilting his head to deepen it. the sight had your breath catching, heat pooling low in your stomach.

“god, you two,” shoko muttered, smirking against your lips. “it’s like watching a porno.”

“jealous?” gojo quipped, pulling back just enough to catch his breath, his eyes glittering with amusement.

“maybe.”

“you get her,” suguru said smoothly, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip. “we’ll be back.”

before you could question it, gojo grabbed suguru’s wrist and led him out of the living room, disappearing into the hall with low, breathy laughter echoing behind them.

the absence of their presence left you and shoko tangled together on the rug by the fire, the crackling flames casting soft shadows across her face.

“guess it’s just us,” she murmured, her fingers tracing light patterns over your thighs.

“seems like it,” you whispered, barely able to focus with the heat of her body pressed so close.

shoko didn’t waste time once the boys left the room. her lips crashed into yours, all tongue and teeth, as if she’d been holding back for too long. you could feel the heat radiating off her as her hands roamed your body, tugging at the edges of your sweater until it slipped over your head.

her palms were warm against your bare skin, fingertips skimming the soft curve of your breasts, and you gasped into her mouth, arching into her touch.

“fuck,” she whispered, eyes trailing down your body, drinking you in like she couldn’t get enough. “been waiting to get my hands on you all night.”

you let her take control, her nails scraping lightly down your back as she kissed a path to your collarbone, sucking a bruise into the delicate skin.

your sweater, jeans, and everything else ended up in a pile near the fireplace, leaving you bare and vulnerable in the soft flicker of firelight. shoko settled between your legs, her hands pressing your thighs apart with a confidence that had you squirming beneath her.

“you’re so wet already,” she murmured, dragging a single finger through your folds. “you like this, huh?”

you could barely nod, the sensation making you dizzy.

her mouth followed, soft lips trailing over the inside of your thighs, her tongue flicking out to catch the slick gathering at your core.

“fuck, shoko,” you gasped, hips bucking when she sucked your clit between her lips, the warmth of her tongue making you shudder.

her grip on your thighs tightened, nails digging into the soft flesh as she kept you pinned, her mouth relentless.

“stay still,” she mumbled, voice muffled against you.

it was impossible. you tugged lightly at her hair, desperate for something to hold onto as she worked you closer to the edge, her tongue curling just right.

you didn’t even notice the sound of footsteps until shoko pulled back slightly, glancing over her shoulder with a smirk.

“oh,” she hummed, licking her lips. “you two back already?”

your gaze snapped to the doorway.

gojo and geto stood there, completely bare, their cocks hard and already dripping.

“we were enjoying the view,” gojo said, his voice deeper, laced with something dark as his gaze fixed on you.

geto stepped forward first, his eyes hooded as he stroked himself lazily, clearly not in any rush. “didn’t know you’d start without us.”

“you two looked busy,” shoko teased, swiping her thumb across her bottom lip, catching the glisten of your arousal.

“don’t stop on our account,” gojo added, stepping closer, his hand wrapping around the base of his cock as he knelt beside you.

shoko chuckled, glancing down at you with amusement in her eyes. “what do you think?”

you didn’t know how to answer, too overwhelmed by the weight of their attention—the way geto’s dark gaze lingered on your mouth, the curve of gojo’s smirk as he ran his fingers along your inner thigh.

“she can take it,” geto murmured, brushing his lips along the curve of your jaw. “she’s been good so far.”

shoko shifted lower, her breath hot against your core, but this time, geto was beside her, his lips pressing soft kisses to your clit before shoko’s tongue joined him.

“fuck—” your breath hitched, your back arching off the floor as their mouths worked in tandem, the slick warmth of their tongues too much.

gojo, not wanting to be left out, moved behind you, his lips ghosting along your neck as his fingers slid into your pussy, curling to meet the rhythm of their mouths.

“so fucking pretty,” he whispered into your ear, biting lightly at the lobe. “you like being the center of attention, don’t you?”

you couldn’t answer, too caught up in the overwhelming sensation, your body trembling as the knot in your stomach tightened.

“c’mon,” shoko coaxed, her tongue circling your clit faster. “let go for us.”

you did, a sharp cry leaving your lips as your orgasm tore through you, your hips jerking uncontrollably as shoko and geto didn’t stop, their mouths and fingers milking every last drop of pleasure.

when you finally opened your eyes, dazed and breathless, geto was already shifting, settling between your legs as gojo moved to take his place beside shoko.

“don’t be greedy, shoko,” gojo teased, his lips brushing yours as geto lined himself up with your entrance, the thick head of his cock pressing inside.

shoko’s hand slipped beneath your jaw, guiding you to look at her as geto thrust into you, stretching you wide.

“you can give us one more,” she whispered, pressing her forehead to yours as her lips hovered inches from your mouth. “be a good girl for me, yeah?”

geto’s cock stretched you to the hilt, the fullness making you shudder as he bottomed out, his forehead pressed against yours. shoko’s hand traced slow circles along your cheek, grounding you with soft touches even as her other hand slipped lower, two fingers pressing against your clit, slick from how drenched you were.

“you’re taking him so well,” she whispered, her thumb brushing your bottom lip. “but you can take more, can’t you?”

you nodded weakly, body already trembling, but the praise made your stomach flutter.

gojo shifted, moving behind you, his lips trailing lazy kisses along the curve of your shoulder. “gonna open you up even more,” he murmured, his fingers dragging down the length of your stomach, teasing along the edge of your folds where geto’s cock stretched you.

you felt his middle finger slip inside, pressing against the soft spot geto wasn’t reaching. the sensation was dizzying.

“so fucking tight,” gojo hissed, sliding another finger in beside the first, stretching you further. “can feel how deep suguru is inside you.”

shoko’s breath tickled your lips as her fingers drifted lower, joining gojo’s as he stretched you open, the combination of their touches leaving you gasping.

“so sensitive,” shoko cooed, pressing soft kisses along your jawline, her fingers brushing light circles around your clit.

gojo’s third finger slipped inside, the stretch nearly overwhelming, and your nails dug into the rug beneath you as your back arched, your body tightening around them both.

“fuck,” geto grunted, his cock twitching inside you. “she’s squeezing me like crazy.”

“feels good, doesn’t it?” gojo teased, his smirk audible even if you couldn’t see him. “she’s so warm… bet you won’t last long.”

geto’s grip on your hips tightened, his thrusts slowing, each drag of his cock purposeful as he pushed deep, grinding against the spot that made you tremble.

you whimpered, barely able to take it all in, your body stretched beyond its limits but craving more. shoko kissed the corner of your mouth, her lips lingering just long enough to make you chase after her, your tongue brushing against hers in a soft, needy motion.

“i can feel how close you are,” she whispered, her fingers pinching your clit just enough to make you jolt. “you’re trembling.”

gojo’s fingers pressed deeper, curling in a way that sent sparks shooting through you, and you nearly sobbed from the intensity.

“you’re holding back,” gojo whispered in your ear, his lips brushing against your earlobe. “let go, sweetheart. we’re not stopping till you’re a mess beneath us.”

geto groaned, his pace faltering, hips snapping faster as he chased his own pleasure, his grip bruising in the best way.

shoko dipped her head lower, trailing soft kisses down your neck, her hand leaving your jaw to tug gently at one of your nipples, rolling it between her fingers as her other hand continued its teasing strokes over your swollen clit.

“give it to us,” she coaxed, her voice laced with a softness that made your chest ache. “you can take it, pretty girl. just one more, i know you can.”

your breath hitched, the knot in your stomach tightening as the pressure mounted.

“fuck—shoko, i’m gonna—”

“i know,” she whispered, her lips pressing to yours in a soft, breathless kiss.

the wave hit you hard, your walls fluttering around geto’s cock as your orgasm crashed over you, your hips jerking up to meet his thrusts as gojo’s fingers kept curling inside, stretching you open further.

“that’s it,” gojo growled, pulling his fingers out just as geto’s pace grew erratic.

“fuck, i’m close,” geto grunted, thrusting hard one last time before he groaned low in his throat, spilling into you with a slow roll of his hips.

shoko kissed you through it, swallowing your soft cries as geto leaned forward, his forehead resting against your shoulder, chest heaving.

but they didn’t stop.

geto groaned low in his throat, his hands gripping your hips tighter as he gave one last deep thrust, burying himself fully inside you as he spilled, warmth flooding your core.

your body trembled, the overstimulation leaving you breathless, forehead pressed against shoko’s shoulder as she ran soft fingers through your hair, grounding you.

“fuck,” geto whispered, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths as he pulled out slowly, his cum slipping down your thighs, sticky and warm against your skin.

but even as geto leaned back, his hands still lingering on your hips, gojo wasn’t done.

his cock throbbed against your thigh, heavy and slick with precum, the tip flushed and desperate for attention.

you felt his gaze on you, his hand sliding over your jaw to tilt your face toward him.

“think you can help me out, pretty girl?” he murmured, his lips brushing yours in a teasing kiss, but his hips were already shifting closer, his cock pressing insistently against your palm.

you nodded, the quiet desperation in his voice making you throb, still sensitive from geto’s lingering touch. your fingers curled around him, warm and slick as you stroked slowly, feeling the weight of him in your hand.

“fuck, just like that,” he groaned, tipping his head back slightly as his hand covered yours, guiding your pace.

meanwhile, shoko shifted in front of you, her bare thighs brushing against your waist as she straddled you, her hands resting on your shoulders for balance.

“don’t forget about me,” she teased, voice low, but there was heat in her eyes as she grabbed your wrist, guiding your fingers between her legs.

her slick heat coated your fingers immediately as they slipped inside, making her moan softly against your ear, hips rolling to meet your touch.

“you feel that?” she whispered, her forehead pressed to yours, panting softly. “been wanting you to touch me like this all night.”

your palm pressed deeper, thumb brushing over her swollen clit, and she gasped, biting down gently on your bottom lip as her hips bucked forward.

but shoko wasn’t one to let you do all the work.

her other hand drifted between your legs, her fingers brushing over your overstimulated core, dragging through the mess geto left behind.

“so messy,” she murmured, her tone soft and teasing, but there was nothing gentle about the way she slipped two fingers inside you, pressing into the heat that still fluttered around nothing.

you whimpered, arching into her hand as your own pace on gojo faltered, your grip tightening around his cock.

“shit—” gojo hissed, his breath stuttering as your fist squeezed him just right, his hips jerking up into your touch.

“i’ve got her,” shoko murmured to gojo, her lips grazing your ear as she thrust her fingers deeper, her pace slow but deliberate. “she’s so tight, aren’t you, baby?”

you couldn’t form words, only broken moans slipping past your parted lips, drool glistening as it trailed down your chin, your jaw slack beneath the intensity of it all. shoko’s fingers curled deep inside you, pressing against that spot that made your thighs tremble violently, your entire body arching into her touch.

her thumb circled your clit in slow, deliberate motions—not too much, but just enough to have you writhing beneath her, the friction driving you higher with every slow roll of her hips against yours.

“look at you,” geto murmured, dark eyes fixed on the way you twisted between them, shoko’s hand buried up to her knuckles inside you.

without a word, he leaned in, catching the trail of drool with his lips, kissing gently along your jaw before letting his tongue brush over the corner of your mouth, warm and unhurried.

“you’re taking her so well,” he said softly, his breath fanning over your lips before pressing a kiss to the hinge of your jaw, his palm cupping your cheek tenderly.

shoko’s teeth scraped over your neck, biting gently before soothing the mark with her tongue, her fingers never faltering.

“i know you can give me one more,” she coaxed, her voice soft but firm, curling her fingers until you nearly sobbed into her shoulder. “come on, baby, let me feel you.”

your hips rocked into her hand on instinct, chasing the pressure as pleasure coiled tighter inside you, her fingers coaxing you toward the edge.

“she’s close,” gojo groaned, his cock twitching in your palm as his eyes dragged over your body, flushed and trembling beneath shoko’s touch.

his hand slid over yours, guiding your strokes as his breath stuttered, his hips jerking forward to chase your fist.

“let go for us,” shoko whispered, her tongue tracing the curve of your ear, and with one last slow curl of her fingers, the tension inside you snapped.

your body trembled violently, thighs clenching around her hand as your orgasm surged through you, knocking the breath from your lungs.

shoko kept going, fucking you through the aftershocks, her fingers stroking deeper to draw out every last shiver until you were limp against her chest.

“fuck,” gojo hissed through gritted teeth, his grip on your hand tightening as he spilled hot and thick against your fingers, painting your skin with a satisfied groan.

for a moment, the room was quiet, the only sounds the soft crackling of the fire and the heavy weight of your breathing.

you lay there, muscles lax and trembling, shoko’s fingers still lazily circling your clit as she pressed soft kisses against your shoulder, grounding you in the afterglow.

“you were perfect,” she murmured against your lips, smiling softly as she finally slipped her fingers free, slick and glistening with your release.

geto brushed his thumb along your jaw, tilting your face toward him as he kissed you, slow and deliberate, his touch warm and steady.

“happy new year,” shoko whispered, her forehead resting gently against yours, and you couldn’t help the quiet laugh that slipped out between heavy breaths.

“happy new year,” you echoed softly, sinking further into the warmth of their bodies against yours.

an. HAPPY NEW YEAR BELOVEDS 😼😽😸! what are some new years goals y’all have? one of mine is to grow my tumblr following n get better at posting more 🤞🏽

[whytheylosttheirminds]

home for the holidays (part one) - r.c.

❄️ a frat!rafe cameron holiday mini series ❄️

summary a simple favor for a friend ends with you reluctantly bringing Rafe Cameron, resident campus fuckboy, home for the holidays. It’s gonna take more than a little mistletoe for him to win you over…

content “enemies” to lovers, copious amounts of flirting, eventual smut, a dash of familial angst, parental illness and mentions of parental death, 18+ mdni

Brodyyy <3: hey thanks again for offering to give me a ride back to nc for break!

You: ofc! anything for u after u gave me those o chem notes bestie

Brodyyy <3: i’m glad to hear ya say that…bc i have one more favor to ask

You: what’s up?

Brodyyy <3: one of my frat bros needs a ride back too, can he join?

You: does he live near us?

Brodyyy <3: he’s from obx but if you get us to my house I can take him the rest of the way in my mom’s car, so no extra driving for you!

You: yeah then i guess that’s cool!!

You: as long as i’m home before 6pm on the 21st i’m good

Brodyyy <3: cookie day?

You: exactly, u get me

Brodyyy <3: dw we’ll get you home in time for cookies! Tysm!

You: np!

You: what’s his name btw?

Brodyyy <3: …

You: *questioned* “what’s his name btw?”

Brodyyy <3: rafe

You: be so fr rn

You: as in cameron???

You: Brody, did u seriously invite rafe cameron to drive home with us??

Hour one

You could see your breath, fog filling the air with each shivering exhale as you pulled your coat tighter around your shoulders. Even after three-and-a-half years, you’d never gotten used to these North Eastern winters. The plan was to be well on your way towards a milder climate by now, but here you were, leaning against the open hatchback trunk of your car, desperately clutching your hot coffee as you waited for your friend to show up. With his friend. You rolled your eyes as you checked the time on your phone for the hundredth time, none of your many texts to Brody returned.

“Brody, I swear to god,” you mumbled under your breath, “five more minutes and I’m leaving your ass.”

Time ticked on without any sight of him. With a resigned sigh, you reached up to close the trunk.

“Hey wait up!” a voice called from behind you. You whipped around to find its owner.

Standing a few feet back on the sidewalk, sherpa lined corduroy jacket, backpack slung over his shoulder and obnoxiously handsome smirk painted on his face, was Rafe Cameron. Notorious playboy, frat president, and hands down your least favorite person on this campus. 

It wasn’t a big school, everyone knew Rafe Cameron. All of your friends had crushes on him, some of them even managed to hook up with him or have stories of making out with him at frat parties. Every Friday night, he popped up on every Insta story on campus, somehow everywhere at once, and yet your paths had never crossed directly. You were okay with that. You knew his type well enough.

“I’m Rafe,” he interjected when you didn’t greet him.

“I know,” you said dryly.

“My reputation precedes me?” He grinned, his slight southern drawl reminding you of home with a pang of nostalgia, until you remembered that this guy was from a completely different world than you.

“I wouldn’t be too proud of that,” you shot back, slamming the trunk closed. “Where’s Brody?”

Rafe usually gave people about ten seconds before he decided if he liked them or not. A lethal combination of impatience and general distrust that he disguised seamlessly under cocky confidence. Your arms were crossed in hostility as you frowned at him, even though he’d barely said two words to you. 

Ah yes, he knew exactly your type. You were that irritating brand of stuck up smart girl who always saw right through him. Sure, you were surprisingly really pretty, a fact Brody had forgotten to mention, but annoying nonetheless. He decided right then not to like you, since you so clearly had already decided not to like him. 

“He’s not coming,” Rafe informed you. “Didn’t he tell you?”

“No, he didn’t,” you huffed, “Is he okay?”

“Yeah, he got a gig with a professor to be a research assistant, but he’s gotta stay on campus to do it,” he explained.

“He could’ve told me,” you rolled your eyes, checking the time again to calculate how far behind his no-show had made you. “I’m gonna have to adjust the schedule.”

“The schedule?” He cocked his head, picking up on the tightly wrinkled knot in your forehead as you pulled a folded piece of graph paper from your pocket.

It was color coded and intricate, every mile, every meal, every gas stop accounted for, down to the minute. You had a pencil in your hair, tucked neatly into your messy bun so you could pull it out quickly and make necessary changes, as you were doing now. You held the paper up against the side of your car, erasing and scribbling intensely as you recalculated the trip. 

“I need to be home by six at the latest, it’s nine now, that leaves only an hour for stops and traffic, we were supposed to leave at eight…” you looked up to eye him pointedly as you said the last part, silently blaming him for the delay as you did your mental math.

“Sorry to make you wait, I needed my beauty sleep,” he raised his hands in defense, lips curling back to display his shiny white smile. “You don’t think this all just happens naturally do you?” He gestured to his face.

You tucked the paper back into your pocket as you eyed him up and down, unimpressed and yet simultaneously beginning to understand why all your girlfriends had fallen so easily for this douchebag. He was handsome, sharp features permanently set in an arrogant smirk. His body was tall and lean yet built, enough that you could tell he was muscular even under all those layers. His dirty blonde hair sat messy over his forehead, sticking out at all angles in a way that made it clear he’d just woken up. 

But you were smart, life and your high IQ made you an expert in reading people. You could see right through him.

“I wasn’t waiting for you, I was waiting for Brody,” you shut him down. “And since he’s apparently not coming, I’m gonna hit the road,” you slammed the trunk closed, pulling your keys from your pocket and making your way to the driver’s side door.

You opened the door, fully intending to climb in and drive off on your own, but Rafe appeared quickly by your side, closing the door before you could climb in.

“Woah, woah, wait,” he said, his arm out next to your head to hold the door closed.

You scoffed at his boldness and stepped back, “uhm excuse me!”

“You’re excused,” he smirked down at you. “How am I gonna get home?”

“Greyhound station is that way,” you pointed over your shoulder, trying to push him out of the way of your door, but he was too sturdy to be moved. He leaned back against the door and crossed his arms, planting himself.

“I’d rather ride with you,” he flashed you a devilish grin you just knew he was used to throwing around like currency.

“Dude, can you just let me into my car?” You shut him down.

“What’s the magic word?” God, did this guy have a punchable face.

“Please,” you reluctantly let out through gritted teeth.

“Hmm, no,” he turned it back on you, planting his feet firmly on the ground, both of you knowing there was no way you were gonna be able to overpower his large frame.

“Okay seriously? I know you’re used to using your body to get what you want, but it’s not gonna work this time,” you were done fucking around, an invisible clock ticking in your mind while your trip was delayed even further by this jackass. “Get away from my car.”

“I will when you agree to give me a ride,” his lips twisted and his voice dropped, aimed down at you, “or we can keep standing here and talking about my body.”

You couldn’t help but blush, and he couldn’t help but like it. The embarrassment at the involuntary response only fueled your anger.

“Why would I do that? I don’t even know you,” it wasn’t entirely true, you knew more than you cared to know about him. Or at least, in this moment, you thought you did.

“Brody said you owe him a favor right? Do it for him,” he suggested.

“If he wanted to cash in on his favor, he should’ve been here himself.”

“Okay then, what if I paid for gas? What was Brody gonna do, go 50/50 with you? I’ll cover the whole trip,” he reached into his pocket and pulled out a thick leather wallet, opening it to flash you his black card. 

You couldn’t help but also notice the polaroids tucked in the see-through pockets. On one side, what appeared to be a family photo; Rafe, an older man and two young girls smiling on a giant boat. On the other side, some sorority girls in bikinis, flashing the camera at a charity car wash. Who the fuck was this guy? 

“Brody was also gonna take you the rest of the way to the Outer Banks. I’m going west and there’s no way I’m getting on a ferry, how are you gonna get home?” You reasoned, though he could hear in your tone that you were starting to actually consider saying yes. 

Time to bring it home, he thought.

“I’ll figure it out. Just get me to the ferry and I’ll be fine. I’ll be eternally grateful, I’ll owe you a big favor. And I never do people favors.”

“The more you talk, the less I want to be stuck in a car with you for eight hours,” you said. 

Dammit, his plan backfired. But he hadn’t missed the way you eyed the picture of him with his dad, Sarah and Wheezie in his wallet. Maybe he could use that to his advantage.

“Please? All flights are sold out and I’d really like to see my little sisters for Christmas,” he blinked his wide blue eyes, mustering up all the sincerity he could find.

Family was your weak spot, you wondered if Brody had told him that. As much as you truly did not want to get in this cramped, two-door car with him, you felt bad picturing the two little girls waiting patiently for their big brother to come home for Christmas. Ugh.

With a deep sigh, you finally said, “fine.” 

Rafe slapped his hand on the car’s roof in celebration, reveling in his victory as he finally stepped away from your door.

“I’ll get you to the ferry and that’s it,” you qualified, trying to dampen his enthusiasm. “I need to be home by six, if I’m late you’re gonna owe me a lot more than a favor.”

He crossed his fingers over his heart solemnly, “scout’s honor!”

“You can throw your stuff in the backseat,” you instructed, your trunk already full to the brim with presents for your family.

“What, you got too much junk in your trunk?” He chuckled at his own joke as he jogged around to the passenger’s side.

You rolled your eyes hard as you climbed in the driver’s seat. This was gonna be the longest eight hours of your life.

Hour two

The heat in your car was cranked at full blast, but you were still shivering as you drove. This car was a hand-me-down from your dad, it got you back and forth to school, but left plenty to be desired in the way of amenities.

Based on the designer watch he was wearing and his Gatsby-esque reputation, you were pretty confident this was the least fancy car Rafe had ever been in.

“Sorry about the rattling,” you said, needlessly gesturing toward the dash, which shook steadily with the hum of the engine. “She’s a good car, but she’s got creaky bones.”

“It’s cool,” he shrugged, pulling a pack of gum out of his coat pocket.

“I’m sure the G-wagons you’re used to don’t shake when you accelerate.”

Rafe popped a piece of gum in his mouth, snapping it obnoxiously between his teeth as he looked over at you, head cocked in observation.

“You don’t like me,” he surmised simply.

Your mouth fell open slightly, startled by how directly he clocked you, “I- I barely know you.”

“Then why do you roll your eyes everytime I open my mouth?”

“Maybe I just don’t like what you have to say.”

His eyes narrowed, considering this for a moment before deciding, “nah, I think it’s something else. Did we have a class together or something?”

“No, just a couple mutual friends,” you smiled the fakest of smiles.

“Yeah? Like who?”

“Girls you’ve ghosted mainly,” you said.

“Whaaat, me? Ghost someone? I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he smirked.

“Yeah right,” you shook your head with an incredulous laugh that only widened his grin. “You know exactly what I mean, you ghost them and then you gaslight them that you were never a thing to begin with. We call it the Rafe Cameron special.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, I’ve never done that,” he said.

“That’s such bullshit, this girl in my hall freshman year showed me all your texts, you totally gaslit her.” 

“Gaslit? Me? You’re crazy…” he said.

You almost took the bait, mouth opened indignantly to argue again before you finally caught onto his game and the growing prideful smirk on his face. He was fucking with you.

You turned the music up, blocking him out as he chuckled under his breath in the seat next to you, ever so pleased with himself.

“Oh, c’mon, lighten up,” he tilted his body toward you, his long legs cramped in the small space of your front seat. 

He placed his hand on the back of your headrest, his arm easily reaching the distance between you. 

“It’s college, it’s not that serious. Everybody’s hooking up and breaking up. I mean, I’m sure you’ve had your fair share of flings,” his eyes ran up and down your body with that final remark.

You stumbled over your response. You weren’t necessarily a shy person, but you didn’t walk around discussing your personal life as openly as he apparently does. 

“I…can you stop looking at me like that please?”

“Looking at you like what?” He grinned, feigning innocence.

“Like you know me at all.”

“You’re right, I don’t,” he nodded. “Though I think I’ve pretty much figured you out.”

“Oh have you?” Your eyebrows shot up.

“Yeah, I mean, I have my guesses at least…”

“Please, share with the class,” you turned the radio down to better hear his absurdity, sure that he was full of shit.

“You were top of your class in high school, graduating with a…3.97 GPA,” he began. “You got in automatic acceptance to a bunch of state schools but you insisted on going to your reach, which thrilled your parents I’m sure. College isn’t as easy as high school, but you’ve settled around an A minus average final grade. You’re not in a sorority, I would’ve seen you at a mixer, but you’re definitely in some organized groups. Not sports, that’s not practical enough, it’s gotta be something where you can do some networking. Brody said you’re what, pre-med? So you’re probably in some kind of medical honors society. I bet you’ve had only one serious boyfriend, maybe a long distance high school sweetheart, but you’re too focused on school to make that work so you dumped his ass. A few hook ups since then, but nothing real. How am I doing?”

Your eyes were glued to the road, face gone ashen as he continued to nail correct guess after correct guess.

“My high school GPA was 3.98 actually,” you said weakly. “And I don’t like this game.”

Rafe had never been more smug, beaming triumphantly at your confirmation of all his assumptions.

“Don’t worry, I’m done playing,” he leaned forward to take off his coat, balling it up to use as a pillow so he could lean his head on the window. “Wake me up when at the next scheduled stop, will ya?”

“No promises,” you grumbled, making him smile as he drifted off to sleep.

Hour three

Bright red brake lights glowed in a line stretched out in front of you for a mile. You sighed deeply, your foot sore from holding down the brake for a full ten minutes. Resigned, you finally gave in and put the car in park, eyeing the clock on the dash anxiously.

Rafe snored. Loudly.

You shot him a bitter glare as he sat passed out in the passenger seat, blissfully unaware of the stop-and-go traffic jam you had gotten stuck in, enjoying his free ride and interrupting your music with his loud snores. Out of spite, you leaned forward and turned up the radio until your music was practically blaring through the speakers.

Somehow, like even in his sleep he knew how to push your buttons, he started snoring louder. You turned the music up as high as it would go, singing along at the top of your lungs until he finally started stirring, eyes blinking open. You quickly turned down the music, stifling a laugh at the confused, grumpy look on his face.

“We’re not moving,” he mumbled, groggily taking in your surroundings.

“You have great observational skills,” you teased him.

“You didn’t think to account for traffic on your little itinerary?” He said smugly.

“I did,” you defended yourself, “just not until we passed through DC. This part of I-95 isn’t usually so packed.”

Rafe sat up in his seat, not having much room to stretch out his legs but trying anyway. He watched the way you were chewing on the inside of your cheek, nervously tapping your hands on the steering wheel.

“So what’s happening at six o’clock?” He asked, trying to pull you from your anxious thoughts.

“Hmm?”

“Before we left, you said you had to be home at six. What’s at six?” 

“Oh, uh, it’s kind of silly actually, you wouldn’t get it,” you sat back in your seat, finally accepting that the car in front of you wasn’t moving anytime soon.

“Try me,” he said.

You looked at him, trying to decide if you wanted to share and risk his getting his rude opinion on something so special to you. But you were hungry, and tired, and stressed, and honestly, after a few too many hours in his charismatic orbit, you were looking for more reasons not to like him.

“It’s because of cookies,” you admitted.

“Cookies?” He cocked his eyebrow, trying to maintain his non-judgemental stance.

“My mom makes these gingerbread cookies that are literally the best thing I’ve ever tasted. They’re so good, she makes them every christmas, but she only makes one batch. It’s an old family recipe her mom left her when she passed away and my mom said she isn’t supposed to give it to me until she’s…gone…”

You paused to swallow hard, like there were more words fighting their way out. Feeling a little too vulnerable with Rafe’s eyes on you, you pushed them back down. 

“…anyway, I have three younger brothers, and they get home from their practices at six. The second they walk in the door, they’ll attack those cookies and there won’t be any left for me. So I need to get home before them or I’ll have to wait a whole year for more cookies.”

You watched him out of the corner of your eye as he decided whether or not he was gonna tease you.

Finally he landed on, “gingerbread, really? They can’t possibly be that good.”

“Oh no, believe me they really are. I’m not usually into gingerbread either but these are seriously the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth.”

Rafe’s eyebrows shot up, smirking at you from his side of the car. It took a second for you to hear your own double entenadre. 

“Oh shut up,” you laughed, reaching over to swat his arm.

“I didn’t say anything!” He pretended to wince, rubbing the spot on his arm you’d hit dramatically. You flexed your hand, surprised that it stung a little, his arm firmer than you were expecting. 

“You question the cookies and then you mock me,” you shook your head. “I should make you get out and walk the rest of the way.”

“No, no!” He chuckled. “I would never question the cookies. I’m sure they’re delicious. Don’t make me walk.”

You zeroed your eyes in on him, “fine. You're safe. For now.”

He wiped his forehead playfully, mouthing a silent ‘phew!’

After a few minutes, traffic started moving again, though painfully slowly. Rafe was drumming along to the radio on the dashboard, growing more impatient by the second. His fidgeting reminded you of a bored toddler.

“Why can’t you mom just make more cookies?” He blurted out.

Your grip tightened on the wheel as sudden brake lights ahead of you forced you to slam on your own brake yet again. This was the direction you were hoping the conversation wouldn’t head in.

“She, uh…she just makes the one batch,” you tried to shrug the question off, but he was too busy tapping away and shifting in his seat to notice your growing discomfort.

“I mean how long can it take? A couple hours maybe? I bet she could just -”

“She just can’t, okay?” You snapped, your growing irritation with the traffic jam making the words come out a little sharper than you’d intended. You took a deep breath when his eyes snapped toward you, “sorry. She just…she can only make one.”

Rafe nodded, his bottom lip sticking out as he returned his attention to his phone, typing rapidly.

“Alright then, take the next exit,” he said.

“What?”

“In a half mile on the right, take that exit,” he repeated.

“Why?” you asked.

“I found a faster route,” he explained. “Let’s get you those cookies.”

Hour four

Rafe was right, the alternate route he found for you had caught you up to schedule, even putting you about twenty miles ahead of where you expected to be by this point.

With the made up time, Rafe finally convinced you to stop for food, and, after several minutes of arguing, to let him drive the next stretch.

It was amazing how much your mood improved with some food in your system. Now that you weren’t the one behind the wheel, it was you shuffling restlessly in the seat, unfolding and refolding your schedule and refreshing the GPS on your phone every couple of minutes. 

“In one hundred and twenty two miles, veer left…” refresh “in one hundred and twenty miles, veer left…” refresh “in one hundred and nineteen miles-“

“Veer left! It’s gonna keep saying the same thing every time, you really don’t need to keep refreshing it,” Rafe grunted.

You shot him a glare, making a show of turning your phone off and tucking it in your pocket. 

“Remind me why you couldn’t just drive yourself?” You snarled. “What, is the Beamer in the shop?”

“It’s a Range Rover, actually,” he corrected you, pulling forth yet another eye roll from you as you mumbled ‘of course it is.’ “And yes, actually, it is.”

“Ah, you pimping your ride?”

He snorted, “what is it 2005? No, I, uh, totaled it, actually.”

“I knew I shouldn’t let you drive,” you winced, grabbing the handle above the passenger door theatrically.

“Relax, it wasn’t my fault,” he assured you.

“Let me guess, the other driver was so blinded by your dazzling smile that they crashed right into you?” 

“There was no other driver,” he said, smirking with a sidelong glance in your direction. “Glad to know you think my smile is that powerful though.”

You regretted your word choice immediately, your brain was working so fast to deflect his charm you had lost the plot a bit. You scrambled to put the focus back on him so he wouldn’t see the way you were blushing.

“Okay so what’s the story then?” You asked.

“It’s really not that interesting. I was driving around campus and there was something in the street, I swerved and hit a tree, that’s it,” he reached to turn the radio a little louder, your eyes narrowing at the avoidant tone he’d adopted.

“You saw ‘something?’ What ‘something’ did you see?” You pressed, amused by his discomfort.

“Just, uhm, an animal in the road,” he said dismissively.

You nodded, a little “ah” leaving your lips as you returned your gaze to the window. You tapped your fingers on your thigh to the beat of the song. You wanted to know more, he knew you wanted to know more. The tension broke quick.

“What kind of animal was -”

“Ohhh my god, you’re so nosy, it was-“ he cut himself off momentarily to lower his voice, “it was a bunny alright?”

Your laugh was immediate and loud, head falling back at the image he’d conjured for you.

“Alright, it’s not that funny but whatever,” he rolled his eyes, unable to suppress the little curve of his lips at the pretty sound of your unguarded giggles. 

“No, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you said between laughs, wiping the tears from the corner of your eyes, “it’s not funny. It’s nice. You crashed your Range Rover trying to save a little rabbit. I just didn’t expect Rafe Cameron to break for bunnies, it’s very cute.”

Rafe never got flustered, he practically majored in flirting, it never phased him. So why the fuck was he blushing like a little kid right now?

Get your shit together, Cameron, he thought, she’s just some girl.

“So you and Brody, y’all sleeping together or...?”

Your laughter stopped dead in its tracks, head snapping towards him as your jaw slammed shut.

Pointedly not answering him, you grabbed your Coke from the cupholder and took a long sip.

“Is that a yes?” he continued. 

“Not that it’s any of your business,” you cut him off, fiddling with the straw, “but no, we’re just old friends.”

Long gone was the playful air of the bunny story. Unable to recover and get a positive reaction from you, he figured he might as well dig himself deeper. In for a penny…

“But, c’mon, you’re saying you two have seriously never…”

“Ew no, he’s literally like my brother,” you shut him down. “Why do you care so much? You jealous?”

Fuck, he hadn’t meant to give you the upper ground, he needed to level the field. 

“You just seemed pretty upset when you found out he wasn’t coming is all. Like, I dunno, a woman scorned and all that…”

“Have you considered it’s because I realized I was gonna be stuck in a car alone with you for eight hours?”

Thoroughly pissed off, you sank down in your seat and continued sipping your Coke, avoiding looking at him by counting the mile markers on the side of the highway. 

Rafe looked over at you, taking in the flex of your jaw as you stewed. He usually didn’t give a fuck if his words offended people. He preferred it, actually. But something about the shape of your smile and the sound of your laughter made him wish you were always happy. He felt like shit for making it go away, then he felt like shit for feeling like shit given his decision not to like you.

His eyes stayed on you for longer than they should, studying the shape of your silhouette in the soft light of the December sun. 

“Watch out!” You shrieked suddenly.

Rafe’s eyes shot forward and he realized with panic that he’d been veering off the road, the front of the car dangerously skewed in the direction of the metal guard rail. 

“Fuck!” 

He cut the wheel hard, overshooting his correction and causing the car to jerk sharply to the left. In your concern, you gripped your drink so hard the lid came off, your ice cold diet coke splashing out of the cup and all over you.

Rafe redirected the car until it was back in the correct lane, but you were already covered in diet soda. Coke dripped from your hair onto your face, your mouth hung wide open in shock and fury.

“Shit, my bad,” Rafe said, reaching in the fast food bag for some napkins.

He started dabbing it completely unhelpfully at your shoulder and you ripped the napkin from his hands.

“This is my favorite shirt, ugh what the fuck Rafe!” You scolded him, trying to use the napkins with very little luck, the shirt was definitely ruined.

“I said I’m sorry! Jesus calm down, it’s not like I did it on purpose,” he huffed at you, hating that he liked how you said his name, even when you were yelling at him.

“No of course not, you never do anything on purpose,” you quipped.

It took everything in him not to snap back with a “you don’t even fucking know me,” but he remained silent. Biting his tongue was a new taste to him, he didn’t like it, but he didn’t like the feeling of you being pissed at him either. Today was a day of firsts.

“We’re gonna have to stop so I can get a new shirt from the trunk,” you said.

Eager to return to familiar territory, he jumped at the opportunity to antagonize you, shaking his head and tsking condescendingly, “no can do, there’s no stops on the schedule for an hour.”

“Okay well this is obviously an extenuating circumstance,” you argued.

“So was me wanting to stop at that outlet mall to get presents for my family, but we didn’t stop then,” he countered.

“Right, because those things are comparable,” you scoffed. “It’s not my fault you waited until the last second to do your Christmas shopping.”

You were right, but he still resented the know-it-all tone in your accusation.

“Well I’m the driver and I say we’re sticking to the schedule,” he doubled down.

“So I’m just supposed to sit here covered in soft drink for the rest of the trip?”

“I have an old sweatshirt in my bag you can borrow,” he offered.

The urge to continue fighting with him until he agreed to pull over was strong, but the urge to get out of the cold, sticky shirt was stronger. With a sigh, you climbed into the backseat and dug through Rafe’s bag until you found a soft, worn out hoodie with a logo on the front that said “Kildare Academy Lacrosse” and on the back “Cameron #44.”

You reached down to peel off your shirt, looking up first to catch Rafe watching you through the rear view mirror. Your hands paused on the hem, giving him a steely look.

“Uh, a little privacy please?” 

His eyes continued flicking between you and the road, “I just wanna see if you found the right sweatshirt,” he claimed.

You let out an indignant tsk, mouth open in disbelief when he gave you a little wink through the mirror. You reached forward and smushed your hand into his cheek, pushing his head back toward the road. He bit his bottom lip, trying to play nonchalant as you stripped off your shirt just inches behind him. He might act like a playboy, but he did actually have enough respect not to look at you while you changed.

Still, keeping his eyes on the road meant seeing the fuzzy form of you in his peripheral vision. The general hue of your skin tone and the swift movement of you pulling your shirt over your head sucked some of the air from his usually puffed-out chest. He felt like he was twelve years old, the way just the thought of you shirtless in the backseat made his hands clammy and his heart pick up speed. He needed to get a grip.

The sweatshirt was about two sizes too big but so warm and comfortable you didn’t care. You expected it to smell like some cheap cologne or boy sweat, but instead it smelled like something sweet and inviting - fabric softener, you realized with a grin. You’d tease him for that later.

Hour five

Somewhere in the middle-of-nowhere Virginia, your gas light came on. You agreed to let him drive for another fifty miles after a quick gas station pit stop, planning to take the allotted thirty minute nap you’d mapped out on your schedule before driving the rest of the way.

Rafe paid for the gas, as promised, and stood by the car as he filled your tank. You never did get to finish your Diet Coke, so you ran inside to grab another while he pumped.

“That’ll be $2.79, dear,” the cashier told you, her southern accent and charm a tell-tale sign that you were nearing home.

With a smile, you pulled out your debit card and held it out for her to swipe.

“Sorry sweetheart, there’s a five dollar minimum for cards,” she informed you politely.

“Oh, okay,” you looked around the counter for something to add, swiping some knick-knacks from their display to round up your bill.

----❄----

The car door slammed as Rafe climbed back in next to you, balling up the receipt for the gas and tossing it into the backseat.

“How much was it?” You asked.

“Don’t worry about it,” he shrugged, turning the key as the engine sputtered to life. 

You shouldn’t feel bad, he offered to pay, and you were technically the one doing him a favor. Still, you were raised by blue collar parents, ‘neither a borrower nor a lender be’ and elbow grease was gospel in your home. You felt like you needed to give him something.

“Here,” you passed him the bag of trinkets you’d bought inside.

Rafe looked in the bag with a confused grin.

“What am I supposed to do with these?” He laughed as he pulled the items out of the bag.

“You could…give them to your sisters,” you suggested.

“What are they gonna do with a Thomas Jefferson snow globe and a bumper sticker that says ‘Virginia is for Lovers’?”

“Well it’s better than a slip of paper that says ‘IOU one christmas present,’” You teased him.

“Y’know what? Very true,” he nodded, tucking the bag of goodies in the backseat and pulling out of the gas station. 

The drive was silent for a few minutes. You leaned forward, resting your arms on the dash as you watched the emerging silhouette of the Blue Ridge Mountains on the far horizon. It was all getting so close; a crackling fire, drinking hot cocoa while watching How The Grinch Stole Christmas with your brothers, decorating the tree, those gingerbread cookies…

“What are you smiling about?” Rafe’s voice interrupted your revelry.

“I’m just excited to get home and see my family,” you said with a happy smile. “Aren’t you?”

It was such a foreign concept to him he almost laughed. He was still playing the angle that he was desperate to get home to his family so you’d give him a ride. He couldn’t tell you the truth; that he wasn’t sure anyone at his house even remembered he was coming, that Christmases in the Cameron house for the last decade were more about the pictures his father could put on the cards he sent to clients than they were about celebrating, or love. 

“Uh, yeah, ‘course,” he said, hoping you’d drop it. 

You didn’t.

“Does your family have any traditions?” 

“Like what?” He knew what you meant, but his brain wasn’t working fast enough to come up with a lie, the truth sitting on his chest in the uncomfortable way he spent his life trying to avoid.

“Like, okay,” you started. “Me and my brothers always sleep in the living room on Christmas Eve. We get all the pillows and blankets in the house and make a big pile in front of the fireplace and keep the fire going all night so we can stay up to try and catch Santa.” 

“How’s he gonna come down the chimney if you keep the fire going?” Rafe questioned logically.

“Oh Rafe, I’m so sorry I have to be the one to tell you this…but Santa isn’t real,” you placed your hand on his arm like you were trying to console him. 

He let it linger for a minute before shaking you off, “you know what I meant!” he grumbled, making you laugh. The sound was so sweet it made him dizzy.

“What else do you do?” He asked impulsively, surprising both you and himself with his desire to hear you keep talking.

“Well, you know about my mom’s cookies, and we always drink cocoa with peppermint sticks, and oh! Me and my dad used to cut down a real tree together the day after Thanksgiving- I’m sure they’ve already gotten it this year since I wasn’t home- but we’d always decorate it together, just the two of us, while listening to his old Bing Crosby vinyl.”

It sounded so nice, so idyllic and comforting, like a Hallmark card. Jealousy roared in his chest, hoping you couldn’t see it on his face as he pictured the much colder, tension filled holiday that was awaiting him.

“Didn’t Bing Crosby used to hit his kids?” He blurted out coldly, the holly jolly joy in the car becoming a little too much for him to handle.

Your face soured, lips twisted as he burst your bubble. 

“You’re a mean one, Mr. Grinch,” you mumbled. Even when he was being an ass, you were being cute. It was killing him. “Not a Christmas guy, huh?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be napping right now?” He brushed off your question.

“I don’t know, maybe you shouldn’t drive so grumpy.”

“I’ll be fine. Your thirty minutes is slipping away, though.”

“Okay fine, but don’t forget to wake me up when we cross the state line,” you reminded him.

“I know, I know. Are you always this bossy?” He snipped, his sudden coldness making you wish you’d never opened up to him about your family to begin with.

With a final, pointed look at him, you pulled the strings of his sweatshirt to cover your eyes and sank down into the seat. 

“Bah humbug,” you threw at him before drifting off to sleep.

Almost immediately, he missed the sound of your voice. 

Hour six

In your dream, you sat alone at your kitchen table, your dad’s Bing Crosby vinyl skipped on the record player as you cried over an empty plate, not a single crumb of gingerbread left…

Hour seven

The world was moving outside the windows, the early darkness of winter making the scene blurry, but you could tell the car was definitely still moving.

And Rafe was out cold in the driver’s seat.

“Oh my god!!” 

You shot up in your seat and grabbed the wheel, sure that you were about to go flying off the road any second. But the wheel was locked, and there was no engine’s rumble shaking the dash. The car was off. 

You blinked, your groggy mind finally catching up with reality. You weren’t driving, you were floating. The choppy ocean crashing against the side of the ship spraying little droplets of water on your windshield.

“Oh my god,” you repeated with a groan, this time less panicked and more pissed.

Rafe woke up with your body stretched across his lap, gripping the wheel as you groaned.

“Hi,” he mumbled with a sleepy smile, completely misreading the situation.

You sat back in your own seat and hit him on the shoulder, hard. 

“Oww, what the hell?” He sat up, rubbing his arm.

“Where the fuck are we?” You barked at him.

“We’re in your car on the way home,” he avoided the true answer. 

“I said I’d get you to the ferry…”

“And would ya look at that? You did!” He smiled sheepishly.

With scarily accurate comedic timing, the ship’s horn blared loudly, leaving no doubt.

“Rafe, we’re on the ferry!” You yelled, smacking him again.

“Would you stop hitting me please?! We were making good time and you looked so peaceful sleeping so I figured we’d just hop the ferry real quick and you’ll still make it home by six.”

You checked the time on your phone, eyes widening with realization.

“Just barely! At this rate I’ll be walking in the door at 5:58,” you argued.

“And just think of how many cookies you can eat in two minutes if you really put your mind to it,” he grinned at you. You were having none of his boyish charm this time, back to being a card carrying member of the “I Hate Rafe Cameron” club.

“I’m gonna kill you,” you mumbled.

“Okay, well can it wait until we’re on dry land? I get seasick and I want it to be a fair fight.”

He wasn’t letting up on the flirting, and you weren’t giving in. The rest of the boat ride was painfully quiet.

----❄----

“It’s just up here on the right, that metal gate,” he assured you as he approached his home, still trying to convince you that you had plenty of time.

Headlights bounced off the high white walls of his estate as the car pulled up. Your mouth hung open in disbelief.

“What is it?” He questioned.

“I knew you were probably rich, y’know based on your whole…” you gestured vaguely to him, “...thing. But holy shit.”

He grinned, “yeah it’s alright I guess.”

“Oh whatever,” you laughed. “It’s like a fucking castle!”

With a final left turn, he pulled into Tannyhill, the giant house completely dark at the end of the long drive. Rafe’s face fell slightly as he drove up, but he pushed the disappointment down when he felt your eyes on him.

“Home sweet home,” he said, feigning holiday cheer.

He put the car in park and grabbed his stuff from the backseat. You both got out, stopping in front of the car so he could hand you the keys.

“I should change so you can have your sweatshirt back,” you said.

“Nah you can give it back to me at school, I’ve delayed your schedule long enough.”

You smiled softly, giving him a grateful nod.

It was strange, you felt like you’d known him much longer than eight hours and yet you weren’t quite friends…you weren’t enemies either, but definitely not friends. How is one supposed to say goodbye to a non-enemy/non-friend? You settled on holding out your hand to shake. Rafe just looked down at your palm, huffing a laugh at the gesture.

“Well,” you shrugged, smiling back, “Merry Christmas I guess?”

He took your hand, giving it a firm shake and a squeeze, “yeah, Merry Christmas I guess.”

With a nod, you stepped around him and got back into your car, pulling up your GPS and entering your home address. So long as the ferry was still running on schedule and there wasn’t too much traffic, you’d get home with about five minutes to spare.

You put the car in reverse and got ready to back out of the driveway. You tried to keep your eyes fixed on the rearview, but you couldn’t help but steal one last look at Rafe as he walked through his front door.

Only, he wasn’t going inside. Or maybe he couldn’t go inside? He stood at the front door shaking the handle and having a very animated conversation with someone on his phone. Something wasn’t right.

Even though you knew you shouldn’t, you cracked your window slightly to hear the phone call. His back still turned to you, Rafe didn’t notice you could hear him and kept talking, loudly…

“The Bahamas? Are you kidding me?...I can’t believe you guys just left without me...well I wasn’t and then I got a ride…this could’ve been avoided if you’d just sent the jet like I asked…since when are you concerned about that?...well what the hell am I supposed to do now?!” 

The last question was said with a raised voice, aggression seeping into his tone. He made like he was about to say something else, but was cut-off, his shoulders falling as the voice on the other end got so loud that it carried all the way to your car. You couldn’t make out the words, but whoever he was talking to was clearly shouting even louder than Rafe had just been.

“Y-yes sir…I’m sorry…yes sir…no sir…okay I will…I lo-”

The phone beeped three times and the screen went black. Rafe stared down at it for a second before slipping it in his pocket and lifting a rock close to the door, retrieving a small silver key. As he raised it to the doorknob, his eyes caught yours in the reflection of the glass.

“You should get going,” he said, turning and noticing your window cracked. “You’re gonna miss your cookies.”

Fully busted for eavesdropping, you rolled the window the rest of the way down, “did they…are they not home?”

“Nah, they decided to spend Christmas in the Bahamas,” he explained.

“Oh. So you’re just gonna be here, like, alone?”

“I’ll be fine. I’m not a Christmas guy anyway, remember?” He gave you a tight lipped smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes.

“Are-are you sure? You could…” You couldn’t quite bring yourself to say it. Were you really gonna offer for him to come home with you? You barely knew him, surely you couldn’t bring him home for Christmas. 

The offer fell dead on your lips, but Rafe knew where you were going with it, the pity in your voice a little too much for his pride.

“I’m really fine,” he said, nodding his head toward the road, “you should get back on the road. You’ve got a schedule to keep”

You gave him a soft smile as you put the car back into reverse, feeling guilty the whole way out of the driveway.

----❄----

Turning the Christmas radio station up, you tried to focus on gingerbread cookies as you waited in the long car line to get back on the ferry. 

He wasn’t your friend, in fact, he was kind of an asshole to you all day. You didn’t owe him anything. Plus, he surely wouldn’t be comfortable at your little house in the country. Not when he was used to all the flash of this island, the one his family seemingly owned based on all the signs with their name on it you passed on your short drive. No, he’d be fine. You’d get your cookies and he’d be fine.

“Ma’am,” the Ferry ticketing attendant tapped on your window to get your attention. 

You sighed deeply as you looked at the big ship, then down to your GPS, telling you there was only a minute to spare if you were gonna get home on time. 

Home. Yours, warm and full of love. His, empty and dark.

“We’ve got a schedule to keep,” the attendant urged. “Are you boarding or not?”

----❄----

The house was still dark but for one light glowing through an upstairs window.

You knocked three times, Rafe’s confused face finally appearing behind the glass. He opened the door with a questioning furrow of his brow. His bag was still packed, sitting right inside the door. You reached down to grab it, throwing it over your shoulder as you said, 

“You owe me a cookie.”

(part two)

a/n: merry everything! I had so much fun writing this! There will be 3 more parts, just a lil present from me to you <3 there will be some hurt, but mostly comfort and a stocking full of fluff!

for updates, follow @whytheylosttheirminds-works and turn on notifs. to be tagged, just ask in the replies or send me an ask!

taglist: @itneverendshere @rafediaries @promiscuousg1rl @eolsens @inlovewrafe

[omid-1]

BETTER THAN PHYSICS⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖࣪ —SJY

Pairing: tutor!Jake x fem!student!reader

Summary: You have always hated physics. You've tried to learn it but it doesn't work out. Will that change when you go for tutoring to the hottest and most handsome man you've ever seen?

Genre:smuttttt

Warnings: 18+, age gap( reader is 19 and Jake is 30), mdni, unprotected sex (don’t do it) , soft dom jake, fingering, oral ( fem receiving), eating out, dirty talks, swearing, fingering, squirting, hickeys,begging, nipple play, kissing, pet names (baby, princess etc.), mutual desire, missionary, big dick!Jake, multiple orgasms (sorry if I missed sth)

Word count: 3,5 k

Author note: ahhh, my first fanfic has so many likes and reblogs!!! Thank you so much!!! I’m very glad that you liked it ㅤ♡ ^^ ! I hope you will like this one too ♡

English is not my first language so sorry if there are any mistakes

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩.

Physics has never been your favorite subject. You’ve always passed this subject with luck. No matter how much time you spent studying it, it was always bad. When you graduated from school you went to college. You didn’t expect that there will be also physics.

You are in your first year of study and you are doing very well in your studies. Unfortunately, you are only stopped by unfortunate physics. You're writing exams in a few weeks and that includes this subject.

You studied at night, took notes and even concentrated a lot during the lectures but it didn't do anything. You just think and know that you don’t have the talent for it.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊

One evening you called your mom. You do it often because you are living now in a dormitory with your friend.

Your university is far from your home so you had to move away. Due to your studies, you don’t have much time to visit your family, so you often call them.

You talked with your mom. She knows very well about your troubles with physics. She told you that she knows someone who could tutor you.

At first you weren't too convinced by her idea, but nevertheless you knew that she wants good for you, and you guess this will be your last hope.

You found out from her that your tutor was to be a man who teaches physics at the school, and his name is Jaeyun. According to your mom, he taught her friend's son and he passed his exams 100%. She gave you his phone number and you wrote down.

Later in the evening after studying you were laying in bed. You mindlessly scrolled through social media on your phone. You were reminded that you need to call or text to this tutor.

You were wondering if this is a good idea. What if it's just a waste of time and money for you and you don't learn anything? Or worse it will be some old man who God knows what he will do to you?

But on the other hand, he was recommended by your mom so you trust her.

You chose his number. You didn’t want to call him so you wrote a short message:

YN: Hi, I’m YN! My mom gave me your number because you supposedly tutor physics

You were surprised how quickly he texted back:

Jaeyun: Hey! Yes, I tutor! if you want, we can arrange when to meet :)

You read his message and immediately wrote back:

YN: okay, we can even meet tomorrow if it suits you

Jaeyun: what about 6 pm?

YN: of course, it suit me!

You didn't know it would go so easily. You agreed on where to meet and decided to meet at his house. It turned out that he lives near your dormitory so you had a good commute to his place. With thoughts of tomorrow's tutoring, you fell asleep.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊

You enter the apartment building where he lives. You have to admit that it’s very luxurious here and these apartments must have been very expensive. You ride the elevator and you are stressed.

It occurred to you that you have never really seen him. What if he turns out to be some kind of weirdos and you never leave his apartment again?

You walk unsteadily down the corridor and your brain is filled with thoughts. You stand in front of his apartment and softly knock on the door.

He opens the door. And my God before your eyes appeared the most handsome man you have ever seen.

He is wearing a black shirt that has two buttons unbuttoned and through this you can see that he is wearing a silver necklace, glasses in which he looks like a nerd and has lovely black slightly disheveled hair

And his face?? Goddamn,he looks like he’s some kind of Greek goddess. For all you know he's about 30 years old but he looks younger.

You know in advance that you won't learn much from his tutoring, and you won’t be able to focus since he looks too good.

You stand for a moment literally staring at him until you are shaken by his voice and he says calmly with a slight smile "Hi, are you YN?"

And when you heard his Australian accent? You literally went wild. He has the hottest voice you've ever heard.

You look at him and nod ,, yes, it’s me”

Jaeyun lets you in and you leave your shoes in the hallway. You have to admit that his apartment looks very expensive. Everything is very modern and looks new. You honestly like it a lot. It was clear that he lives alone, but this surprised you because how can such a handsome man be single?

You sat side by side in the living room at the table. You pulled out a physics book when Jaeyun said ,,so I haven't switched to you yet. I'm Sim Jaeyun but just can call me Jake”

You look at him the whole time and smile softly. Then you show him all the topics you were struggling with in physics.

,,okay, let’s start from the beginning. I will try to explain you as simply as possible”

Jake looks through your physics book and when you look at his big, veiny hands. You are getting wet. You wonder how you would feel if he choked or fingered you with them.

He starts to explain the subject to you. For the first half hour you listen and even start to understand something because he explains to you in a very simple and interesting way.

But then you are more and more distracted. You rest your elbow on the table and put your head on your hand. you look or rather stare at him.

He is so damn attractive. And also the fact that he is so smart makes you more and more horny for him. You really want to fuck with him.

,,is everything okay?” You hear his voice, which wakes you up from your fantasies about him. Probably he noticed that you’re not focused. You quickly straighten up and you say perplexed

,, yes..”

Jake smirks slightly and your heart beats faster. He starts dictating a note to you and you write it down. When he finish speaking he lean toward you. You immediately smell his perfume. He smells so good.

He is so close that you can practically hear his breath.Your heart beats even faster if it’s possible. Out of the corner of his eye he looks at you

Something tells you that he did it on purpose. You can sense it in the tension between you.

He leans back but you have the impression that the chairs you are sitting on are getting closer to each other.

After the tutoring, you leave his house. And damn, you already know that you may not learn much physics, but Jake is the most handsome and charming man you've ever seen and you need to do something about it.

On the other hand, Jake thinks about you the same. When he saw first saw you he thought that you are the prettiest girl he has ever seen. He is not stupid he noticed how you look at him. But for now he will tease you and see what comes out of it

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊

It's been two weeks since your first meeting and Jake is tutoring you several times a week.

Through each meeting you became closer and closer to each other . Often you dont talk only about physics but about normal topics and got to know each other.

You found out a lot of things about him. For example, he born and when he was younger he lived in Australia or that he graduated with two degrees. You have to admit that he’s really interesting and smart (plus very sexy hehe)

The other thing that is not hard to miss is the huge sexual tension between you two. Small and seemingly random touches light a fire in your body.

For example, Jake just happened to want to turn a page in a book at the time you did, and then your hands would touch, or he would claim he couldn't hear you and move your chair closer to his even though you were sitting very close.

On purpose when you go to him you put on more and more skimpy clothes. You see his gaze linger a little too long on your figure, or how he look at your lips instead of your eyes when he explains something to you.

You both know very well that you want each other. however, neither Jake nor you have made any concrete move yet. You are exhausted by this and you are thinking of doing something about it.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊

You sit next to each other on chairs. Today is your pre-last tutoring before the exam. However, you care more about making something happen between you. You've been horny for him since you first met him. You don't want to wait any longer.

You wore shorter skirt than usual and sweater today. You saw Jake watching you when you entered his apartment.

He explains some task to you although you don’t listen to him at all. You look at him as if he were the prettiest painting you've ever seen.

His eyebrows are slightly drawn together and he looks at you intensely. He speaks slowly and tries to explain everything in the simplest but most accurate way possible. His lips look so pretty and enticing.

You got the impression that he looks even hotter today than last time. His T-shirt showed perfectly his veins on his arms and he had different glasses than last time which perfectly highlighted his nose.

,,YN, are you even listening to me?”

You see that he bites his lip-you have noticed that this is his habit and sometimes he does it unintentionally. He raises his eyebrow and looks at you.

,, yes, I’m listening but I'm a little distracted” you answer and you look at his plump lips.

His smile widens and he looks deeply into your eyes. He asks curiously even though he knows exactly what is on your mind ,, What got you so distracted?”

You look at him and delicate blush appears on your cheeks. You know that this is your chance ,, I don’t know. I guess I've had enough of the physics. I need a break”

Jake looks at you intently and he answers calmly ,, okay, as you wish princess”

When you hear him say the pet name so naturally you get butterflies in your stomach. You lay finger on your lips and you play with your lip. You smile at him and you don’t break eye contact.

Jake when he watches you he loses his temper. He knows that he has to do something ,, c’mere, sit on my lap”

You listen to him and you sit on his lap. You put your hands behind his neck You get hot when you are so close. You look at his lips and then at his eyes. Jake notices this and grins ,,what happened, baby? Would you like to kiss me?”

You bite your lip slightly and Jake gently touches your lips with his finger while looking at them carefully. He wonders how pretty they would look around his dick.

Jake brings his face to yours and gently brushes his lips against yours. You begin to kiss each other subtly and sweetly. You have chills down your spine.

You deepen the kiss, you feel Jake exploring your lip with his tongue and you moan quietly into his mouth. You think that you've never felt so good when someone kissed you before

His hands moved sensually over your body. You felt his erection grow beneath you. You deliberately began to wriggle in his lap.

All the time you didn’t pull away from the kiss. It was more and more passionate and hot between you. You hear Jake begin to moan silently.

You pull away from the kiss and you feel Jake's hands on your waist. You whisper "bedroom"

Jake immediately knows what you're about and takes you in his arms. All the way to his bedroom you kiss and don’t take your hands off each other. When you enter the room Jake puts you on his bed.

He looks at you,his eyes darken and he delights ,,fuck baby, you look so pretty under me”

Your flushed face, reddened lips from an earlier passionate kiss and teasing smile arouses something in him. He thinks he's about to go crazy

His cock grows in his pants just because he looks at you. He thinks you're so cute when you're lying underneath him and so desperate for him.

,,Jake.., please do something” you beg him when you notice that jake is staring at you. And you honestly love it but you are desperate and need his touch.

,,for you everything, princess” he starts kissing and gently nibbling your neck. You moaned quietly in pleasure when he did it . You already know that he will leave marks on your neck

Jake begins to lift your t-shirt and looks at you with a questioning gaze asking for your permission. You nod and he pulls down your t-shirt and then your bra. He gently touches one of your nipples and licks and nibbles the other with his tongue.

You groan at the feeling. No one has ever touched you as good as jake. You squirm and whine.

Jake notices this how desperate you are. You are such a mess underneath him but he loves it. Your moans for him are like the prettiest voice he has ever heard.

He smiles, raises an eyebrow when he looks at you and says teasingly ,,tell me sweetie, where do you want me to touch you?”

You moan and look up at him. His disheveled hair from your touch, his mean grin and plump reddened lips make your pussy drip even more.

,,please… I need your month and fingers in my pussy”

Smile from his face doesn’t disappear when you beg him so nicely. He gently pulls down your skirt and you are left in just your panties. He lies down between your thighs and he puts your legs over his shoulders.

He slowly touches your clit with two fingers through your panties. He sees the wet spot on them and says in a deep voice ,, Your pussy is so wet and eager just for me, isn't it?”

,,o-only for you jakey…” you answer and keep your hands firmly on the sheet. Jake pulls down your panties and begins to touch your clit with one finger. he deliberately and gently moves his finger from top to bottom. You gasp and squirm.

,, jakey pleasee….. I need more”

At your request, he inserts two fingers into your cunt and you moan at the feeling when jake purrs ,,mmm, your pussy is so tight around my fingers”

Jake quickly and thoroughly fingers you and then adds his mouth. He starts eating your pussy like a hungry man. You moan loudly at the sensation.

He licks and nibbles your clit with his tongue and on top of that he fingers you with three fingers. He hits all the spots perfectly

,,fuck, you taste so sweet”

You have never felt so good before. You roll your eyes and hold your hands tightly in his hair. All you can hear in the room are your cries of his name and the wet sounds of your pussy as he inserts his fingers into you.

You feel that you are about to come, and you know that it will be the most intense orgasm you have ever experienced ,, fuck, jake… I-I feel s-soo goodd!!”

You moan and scream. Your back arches as you feel the knot in your stomach can burst at any moment. He doesn't stop. He starts fingering you even harder as far as possible perfectly reaching your G-spot.

,, jakeeee!!!! I’m cumming!!!!!” You scream when you cum at his face and fingers. You shout his name all the time. you have never came so intensely just because someone fingered and ate you out.

Your legs are shaking. ,, fuck doll,you’re so pretty when you cum on me” You feel Jake licking all your juices from your pussy and you moan quietly at the sensation.

You catch eye contact. you see that jake has your juices on his lips and nose. Damn, he looks so hot. You slowly sit up and jake draws you in for a passionate and desperate kiss.

You desire each other further so much. You taste yourself on his tongue. You start touching his cock through his pants and he quietly moans at the sensation

You pull away from the kiss and want to pay him back. However, he has other plans and says as he pulls off his shirt ,, baby, another time, I have to fuck you now”

You are breathing hard and your pussy is wet again just by his words. Jake gets up from the bed and pulls down his pants and boxers. You watch his every move.

And oh God. You’ve never seen a prettier body. He looks like he is some kind of god. He is athletic and you can see that he spends a lot of time in the gym.

And his cock? He is big, thick and stringy. You yourself don't know how your little pussy will take it all in.

He sees you staring at him and raises an eyebrow and smiles ,,hmm honey, do you like what you see?"

You nod and practically drool over him. He crouches in front of you on the bed and puts your legs over his shoulders. He pumps his cock a few time.

He holds your wrists behind your head and says seductively in a deep voice ,, will you be my good girl and you’ll take all my cook in your little pussy?”

your pussy is already so soaked for the second time and you want him to fuck you already. in a shaky voice you answer ,, yes!!! Please…. Fuck mee!”

His cock stands and when he hears you wanting him he puts the tip into your pussy. You moan at the feeling. He slowly enters further. You roll your eyes and moan his name.

Jake feels how warm and tight you are around him and thinks he could come already. He lays his head on your shoulder and breathes hard as he starts to move

,,mmmm j-jakeyy..” You moan as his cock thrusts into your pussy at a steady pace. Never before has anyone fucked you as well as he has. His big cock hits deep inside you in places you didn't know existed.

,,mhmm.. you feel so fucking full” He teases and and thrusts firmly into you ,, I'm sure you've wanted to have your tutor's cock pushed deep into your pussy for a long time”

You know you won't last long when he fucks you too good. You scream and purr louder and louder by the second.

He keeps his hands on your hips thrusting into you harder and harder. His cock twitches inside you and he knows he is close now

,,princess, you feel so good” He fucks you hard and fast. And whispers dirty words in your ear. He starts kissing your neck and massaging your clit. You moan his name loudly and feel that your second orgasm will be even more intense than the first.

Your lips part. You cum and squirts around his dick. You close your eyes and you feel ecstasy. Jake, meanwhile, loudly moans your name and asks in a shaky voice ,, Can I fill you up? Your pussy will be all filled in my cum”

,, yes-ss, pleaseee!!”you moan when you feel that jake paints your walls with his cum and pounding into you one last time

You breathe loudly as you feel Jake gently come out of you. cum from your pussy spills onto his bed sheets.

Jake goes into the bathroom and brings a towel to wipe the mess between your legs. Then he puts the towel on the floor.

You lie in his bed and wonder what will happen next. Jake sits down next to you and asks sweetly ,,are you feeling okay?"

You look at him and when you see how he cares for you your pulse speeds up.

You think you already know that you are in love with him.

,, yes Jake, it was amazing” you answer with a soft and tired smile. His smile widens and he lies down next to you. He opens his arms and you move closer to him.

You lie in each other's arms. Jake leaves kisses on your shoulder and cheek. there is a comfortable silence between you. Suddenly Jake speaks up ,,how about when you pass your physics exam I will take you out on a date?"

You raise an eyebrow and answer ,,it sounds amazing, but why wait until the exam?”

Jake giggles quietly and says bringing his lips closer to yours

,,it will be your prize baby”

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊

Thank you for reading! ♥︎

[mssorceressupreme]

Hate and Love | F.W

———

Pairing: Fred Weasley x reader

Summary: in the mission of transporting Harry safely to the Burrow, you and Fred get thrown off-track as his broom breaks, resulting in an overnight detour at a hotel.

Warnings/content: minors DNI 18+, halfblood!reader, One Bed Trope, enemies to lovers, boner!alert, oral!freceiving, p in v, grumpy x sunshine (if u squint), raw penetration (wrap it plz), cumming inside, orgasm denial, fluffy ending, fighting death eaters, dom!fred, sub!reader

Wordcount: 5.8k

———

You stood near the wall, arms crossed, in the house of number four Privet Drive, the place where it all began for one of your closest friends, Harry Potter. The group of you were gathered in the empty living room, discussing the highly dangerous plan of transporting Harry safely to the Burrow.

Beside you stood the twins, listening intently as Mad-Eye Moody instructed orders.

Seven of them had just taken polyjuice potion, resulting in seven 'Harry's', all in accordance with Moody's plan.

“Right then, we’ll be pairing off. Each ‘Potter’ will have a protector and to make it simpler for you, I'll choose the pairs.” His mismatched eyes scanned the group, assigning pairs, and an aggravating pit settled in your stomach once Moody called out your name, “Y/N, you're with Fred.”

Your head snapped toward Fred, who groaned audibly.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” He muttered, but George nudged him softly, urging him to be tolerable while they changed out of their regular clothes.

“Yeah yeah, happy to be paired up with you too.” you rolled your eyes, the sarcasm in your tone apparent.

Fred and you had never gotten along. Since your days at Hogwarts, the two of you had been like oil and water—always at odds. He thought you were too uptight, too rule-abiding, while you found him utterly insufferable, reckless, and far too smug for his own good.

But for Harry, you’d endure today. He'd done a great deal to help you throughout your years at Hogwarts, so it was only fair of you to return the favour.

“Head for the Burrows, we’ll rendezvous there!” Moody finished. The room stirred with movement as everyone prepared for what was to come.

Outside, the night air was cool as you mounted Fred’s broom behind him. The scent of his cologne, something warm and woodsy, hit your nose, and you hated that you thought it smelled decent, inhaling a bit more. You hesitated for a moment before wrapping your arms around his waist, well, 'Harry's' waist.

Fred stiffened slightly at your touch, “Don’t get too comfortable back there.”

“Oh, believe me, I won’t.”

Before you could snap back another remark, he kicked off into the sky, soaring above London, splitting up from the others.

Everything was eerily silent for a few moments. The flight seemed too smooth for your liking. You kept an alert eye, constantly scanning your surroundings.

You caught a shadow in the corner of your eye, and you whipped your head around, squinting your eyes at the figure in the dark.

"What the..." You muttered.

"Fred go faster...." You ordered, losing sight of the shadowy figure.

"Why don't you come fly the broom then." He retorted, clearly annoyed.

"Fred! I"m serious!" You yelled, gripping his waist tighter, as he exhaled before picking up the pace.

"In case you forgot, I need to be able to breathe to fly this thing properly." He grunted as you practically squeezed every breath out of him.

"Right, sorry," You loosened your grip ever so slightly, "...it's just, I swear I saw something."

You turned around again, catching a glimpse of a shadowy figure. The shadow was no longer a mystery figure but a person, or, three people rather.

Death Eaters.

"Oh shit! Fred! They're here!" You took your wand out and began fighting with them.

Spells shot through the night, streaks of green and blue illuminating the sky like a twisted fireworks display. The death eaters had appeared out of nowhere, zooming in, attacking viciously as they trailed behind you on their brooms.

“They’re following us!” you shouted over the wind, turning back around to gauge Fred.

“Oh, really? Thought we were just out for a lovely evening flight,” he shot back sarcastically, dodging a hex just in time.

You rolled your eyes but focused on firing spells behind you, hitting one death eater square in the chest and sending him spiralling downward.

"Stupefy!" You shouted, casting the second death eater off his broom. Two down, one to go.

Just as you felt a moment of victory, another spell whizzed past, striking the broom.

The wood splintered with a sickening crack. "Uhh, Fred?" You called out, glancing at the broom.

“Hold on—” Fred barely got the words out before the broom snapped completely, and the two of you plummeted toward the Thames River.

You hit the water hard, the impact knocking the wind out of you. You kicked frantically, breaking the surface and gasping for air. The coolness of the water had your body in shock, shivering as you forced yourself to stay afloat.

Fred emerged a second later, coughing.

Glancing above, you saw the third death eater laughing maliciously as he flew off, leaving you and Fred. He must've figured it wasn't the real Harry, given that you called him 'Fred'.

“Great! Look what you’ve done!” you accused, treading water furiously.

“What I’ve done?! That was you—you were supposed to be fighting them off!” he retorted, his wet hair plastered to his forehead. He had transformed back into his original self, the fiery redhead Fred you knew.

You groaned, swimming toward the embankment where a set of stone stairs led to dry land. Your fingers were frozen as you pulled yourself up, collapsing onto the pavement. Fred followed, shaking out his drenched hair like a dog.

“Brilliant. Just brilliant,” you muttered, clutching one-half of the broken broom while he had the other. “Now how are we supposed to get to the others?”

Fred sighed, pushing his hair back. “Let’s just go somewhere dry first.”

You nodded begrudgingly, too cold and exhausted to argue.

When you emerged from the river, it was given that pedestrians would stare at the two of you strangely. Swimming in the Thames River wasn't exactly the most normal thing to do, let alone at this hour.

Though, in this particular instance, more of them were starring at you, rather than Fred.

Fred cleared his throat, eyes darting down to your chest then back up before averting his eyes immediately.

You furrowed your brows, glancing down, only to remember that you were wearing a white shirt along with the worst possible undergarment to pair with it, a black bra.

You felt your cheeks heat up, as you covered your chest, "Let's just go..."

Fred shook his head, taking off the grey jacket he wore and putting it over you, "Here."

Though still wet, it offered the coverage you much needed and you were entirely grateful. "Thanks." You muttered softly, as you two began walking.

"Figured you wouldn't want to walk around flashing the whole of London."

The two of you walked in silence as you tried to figure out a way to get to the others. “We can apparate—” he started.

“Absolutely not. There are muggles everywhere,” you snapped, nodding to the late-night pedestrians strolling along the streets.

Fred scoffed, shooting you an eye-roll. “Alright, Professor McGonagall.”

You ignored him, scanning the area. A small, dingy-looking hotel caught your eye. Without another word, you trudged toward it, Fred trailing behind. The receptionist, a bored-looking woman in her mid 40s, barely glanced up as you approached the desk.

The hotel looked cheap enough for an overnight stay. All you needed to do was clear your mind and get a good night's rest before figuring things out in the morning; yes, that sounded ideal to you right this moment.

“Two rooms, please,” you said firmly.

She tapped at the keyboard, chewing on some gum as she did so. “We’re fully booked.”

Your heart sank. “What about one room? With two beds?”

"Sorry, we're full." She continued typing, then clicking on the mouse as she looked around the screen, "It's peak season honey, we're always maxed out."

"Please you've got to have at least one room, with two beds, anything?" You pleaded, desperate for whatever you could acquire.

"We'll take whatever we can get, you've got to have something." Fred added, backing you up as he stood closer to you.

She checked again, then looked at you, eyes lighting up. “Ah, it seems that we do have one left with two beds, but the heating is broken, that's why we didn't offer it to customers. Actually, I was supposed to call the maintenance guy, but he's my ex, you see, so it's a bit of a rough story. I always thought he loved me, you know, how could someone not, I mean look at me? I'm gorgeous. He was supposed to come by today but we—”

"We'll take it!" Fred interjected swiftly, clearly exhausted. "Thank you."

Relief flooded you as you he paid with muggle money. You were surprised he even had some on hand, but after all, he was a businessman.

"Interesting, all this muggle stuff eh?" Fred mused, as you both entered the lift, his eyes darting around as he observed his surroundings.

"I suppose so, yeah. I guess I was lucky enough to be born a half-blood, you get the best of both worlds." You shrugged, as though hotels and 'muggle elevators' were the most natural thing in the world.

"Alright then, you lead the way, Ms expert." He mocked, gesturing for you to lead the way once the doors opened.

You scoff softly, marching down the hallway before finding your room number. Fred reaches seconds after you, looping his arm around your body to swipe the keycard.

He placed an arm on the door to open it, letting you in first before closing it after he entered.

But the moment you entered the room, your jaw dropped.

One bed.

“What? She said there were two beds.” You blinked, looking around the room in confusion.

“She must’ve meant the couch,” Fred said, nodding toward the small, lumpy-looking couch a few inches beside the bed, by the window.

You swallowed, “Right, well, who's sleeping where?” Honestly, at this point, you didn't even mind taking the couch, as long as you could get some rest.

Fred's eyes darted from the bed to the couch, exhaling exasperatedly before finally looking at you, "I'll take the couch."

"I didn't know Fred Weasley had manners?" You gasped, faking your amusement.

He shot you a glare, grabbing a towel as he did so, "Could you be any more aggravating?"

You tried to think of a witty comeback, something, anything to get a reaction out of him. But alas, you were lost for words. He did have a point though.

Come to think about it, you realised that you might've only been behaving this way because you were not used to him being so much of a...gentleman. This was foreign to you.

"I'll have the first shower." He shifts past you, nudging your shoulder, which sends heat through your bodies temporarily.

“Be my guest.”

You hear the lock shut, and seconds later, the water starts running.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, you took in your surroundings. This was no five-star hotel, but it was presentable and decent enough for an overnight stay. The walls are dark grey, with ambient lighting all around the room. Navy blue sheets grace the double bed, with a soft brown leather footer in contrast. There is a tea tray and a kettle, on top of the dark brown desk that sat in the corner of the room.

Minutes later, the door clicks and unlocks.

Fred steps out, a white towel hanging around his waist. His hair is wet, and his body glistening with water droplets. Your eyes couldn't help but drift down, his body was incredible defined, a stark contrast to your school days when he was merely a boy, now, he was a man.

Oh, he definitely works out. You noticed his arms, much larger and buffer than they used to be.

"All yours." He jerked his chin to the bathroom.

You gulped, brushing past him before hurriedly entering the bathroom and locking the door.

Wow, since when did Fred Weasley get so, attractive?

The hot water was a blessing, washing away the cold. You stood under the steamy shower for a couple of minutes, taking in as much warmth as you could.

With no new clothes to change into, you wrapped yourself in the plush hotel bathrobe, sighing in frustration. It appears there was only a kids sized one left, and you had no choice but to wear it. Whatever, it’ll do the job for tonight.

You hung your wet clothes on one of the bathroom racks, and you saw that Fred did the same, you placed your clothes beside his.

You were humming to yourself when you stepped out, relieved to be in some dry clothes, dancing a little as you strolled to the bed.

When he heard you walking, Fred glanced up, something flickering in his expression, though you're not quite sure what.

“That bathrobe is way too small for you." He remarks, laying with his legs out on the couch, two arms behind his head as he rests.

"What was I supposed to do, wear my wet clothes to sleep?" You respond as you hop into bed, tugging the covers and snuggling in.

"It could be an enlightening experience." He hummed, as he shut his eyes, adjusting himself on the couch.

"You try it then." You counter, scoffing at his idiocy.

The curtains are drawn, and the lights are dim. Silence fills the room as you both unwind for the evening. Before you shut the lights from the switch beside your bed, you call out, "I'm going to off the lights now, need anything before I turn them off?"

"Yeah actually..." He perks his head up, turning to face you.

"What?" You ask, listening keenly.

"For you to be quiet." A small smile played on his lips as he laid back down.

You rolled your eyes, before hitting the lights.

"Good night." He cooed.

You lay there, tossing and turning, but you couldn't seem to fall asleep for the life of you. It didn't help that the room was so cold, due to the heater being unfixed.

Minutes passed in silence before you turned your head slightly. Fred was stretched out on the tiny couch, his long legs dangling uncomfortably over the armrest.

It was evident that he was way too tall to fit on all that, he did not look the slightest bit comfortable.

“See something you like?” Fred smirked, feeling your stare though his eyes were shut.

“What? No! I was just—”

“Just what? Admiring this handsome face?”

"Honestly Fred, how conceited are you?" You sat up now, shooting daggers at him. As much as you hated to admit it, he was, in fact, handsome. Annoyingly so.

Truth be told, had he not been so irritating, you might've actually considered dating him.

You loved the Weasleys, Ginny was like a sister to you, Ron, your close friend, George, always on the lookout for you. He even took you down to Hogsmeade for a meal and bought you treats when you cried over one of the Slytherin boys rejecting you back in your fourth year.

But Fred, oh Fred, you could never see eye to eye with him. You only ever tolerated him because his family was so warm and welcoming.

A tiny part of you felt guilty that he was forced onto the couch, despite being the one that paid for the room.

You wanted to offer the place beside you to him, seeing that the bed was larger than anticipated once you were actually tucked in.

"Well you are staring, something you need?" He countered, his eyes are still shut, arms still behind his head.

"Well, I was thinking...." You hesitated, "well, you could sleep on the bed. It's actually more spacious than I thought."

His brows shot up, and he opened his eyes, turning to face you. “In the bed? With you?”

“Don’t make it weird, Fred,” you huffed. “The couch looks uncomfortable.”

"Are you, being nice to me?" He teased, the urge to take back your offer growing stronger.

"Don't make me change my mind, Weasley."

After a beat, he groaned. “Fine. But don’t hog the covers.”

"Please I sleep like a log, it's not like I'm going to cuddle you or anything."

"Cuddle me eh?" He mused.

"Not bloody likely, besides you're too annoying to be my type." You retort.

Fred stood up, walking to the other side of the bed. He slid in beside you, and the bed suddenly felt too small. You kept your back to him, but quickly got up and put one of the spare pillows between you.

"See this line? Don't cross it and you're good." You commanded, and he chuckled lightly,

"Alright alright." He raised in hands.

You turned away from him, back to him as you attempted to fall asleep. You hadn't realised how far you were from him, you were practically tipping over the edge of the bed.

You scooted inside a little, bumping into the pillow wall you put.

After what seemed like hours of tossing and turning, you sighed in defeat. The room was cold, and the blankets were not much help.

You couldn't help but wonder if you were the only one awake. You extended your arm behind you, trying to find the pillow 'wall' you had put up. But with all the tossing and turning from the two of you, the pillow must've slipped out of place and down the lower half of the bed somewhere.

As you extended your arm behind you, you accidentally came into contact with Fred's back, and he shifted slightly before turning to face you instead.

It's dark, almost pitch black, but with the small glimmer of light, you can see that his eyes are shut. Curious you called out, "Fred?" you whispered. "Are you awake?"

"I am now, no thanks to you." He fluttered his eyes open, facing you.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, I just wanted to see if—"

"Don't be." He sighed, "Couldn't sleep a wink either. This room is bloody cold."

"The blankets aren't doing anything." You exhaled, agreeing, before an idea popped into you head.

"This might sound silly, but, if we revert back to old fashioned methods, we could, um—actually it's stupid, nevermind." You began, but quickly dismissed it.

"Go on, I'd like to hear what genius solution you've come up with."

"It's dumb, I don't think you'll like it."

"Try me." He replied.

You hesitated again before suggesting, “We could—uh—use body heat.”

He stared at you momentarily, it looked as though he thought about it, considering it before responding, “Absolutely not.”

"Okay, whatever, I just thought it was a feasible option. These robes aren't exactly pyjama material either." You say, trying to tighten your robes, with the hopes of warming up your body.

You both fell into silence again your back facing him once more, before Fred spoke up, "Come here."

"What?" You turned around.

"I suppose, we could try the body heat thing."

"Oh so now you want to try my idea?" You raise your brow, scoffing as you shift over slowly, and he extended his arm, pulling you in.

"Don't get any ideas, I just need to sleep and call it a day." You firmly spoke, pressing your back to him, as he faced you. You felt his heat, no doubt, it was working, and you were starting to warm up. In all the places apparently, your cheeks, and an area of yours down there. Your heart pounded as his hand rested against your back, his breath tickling your ear.

"Let's do shoulder-to-shoulder." You suggested, trying to hide your flustered-ness.

He didn't argue, respecting your decision. The two of you lay there, facing the ceiling as your shoulders touched. Though not as warm as before, it was still warmer at least.

You turned your head, Fred's face illuminated by the dim light coming through from the curtains, his jawline ever so chiselled. Merlin, he was undoubtedly a handsome chap. You shut your eyes, trying, yet again to enter a slumber.

As you laid there, eyes shut, Fred opened his, gauging you. He smiled softly as he took in your features, rolling his eyes fondly as he saw you breathing slowly.

You swore you were about to cast some sort of sleeping spell, because you still could not fall asleep for the life of you. You keep moving, accidentally brushing against Fred's body countless times but you couldn't help it, you needed to find a comfortable position.

You move your arm around the blanket, trying to find a comfortable position for yourself until you accidentally graze something, unexpected.

You freeze.

Did you actually just graze that?

Was he....?

You slowly turned to face him, your body merely an inch away from his. You see him shut his eyes, heavily breathing, his Adam's apple bopping up and down from swallowing hard.

"Would you quit moving so much?" He whispered, trying to contain himself.

"I....Fred, I didn't mean to." You pause. "You're still awake?"

"10 points to Y/H (your house), captain obvious."

You furrow your brows, turning on the bedside lamp which offered the tiniest bit of ambient light in the dark room.

Your gaze flickered down, and well, you saw, a little friend poking up from the sheets beneath him.

"Is that, because of m—" You swallowed not daring to finish the sentence, looking at his hard on. "I'm sorry shouldn't have moved so much."

"Alright, it's okay, it's not a big deal, so what it's normal right. I didn't mean to accidentally keep grazing or grinding on you, I was merely trying to find a comfortable position. Listen, I'm not weirded out or anything, you can go sort it out. Who am I to judge? This time tomorrow we'll all be at the burrow and I'll be sharing a room with Ginny and 'Mione, so it's fine, we can—" You began ranting out of nervousness, but Fred had enough, opening his eyes to sit up with you,

"Merlin, Y/N. Ranting like you're so innocent, moving around like that? On me?" He leans in closer, growling, "I bet you'd really want to know what got me provoked in the first place, yeah?"

You gulped, inspecting his features as he leaned in closer to you, now an inch apart, "You aggravate me, pushing my damn buttons all the bloody time. Maybe if you weren't such a whiny brat complaining about everything, I would've fucked you an hour ago till you were silenced.” He ranted before continuing,

“You want to know what got me so hard? You waltzing around in those darn bathrobes that are far too small, exposing every inch of your body, your cleavage is practically begging to be seen. I can't keep my fucking eyes off you. Ever since Hogwarts, it was always you, grating on my last nerves. I thought I hated you so, until I realised that there was a fine line between hate and attraction."

"Fred..." your eyelids flutter; how did his voice get so low and sensual? You could feel yourself throbbing, growing wetter by the minute, and you found yourself growing more needy for him.

"Bloody hell Y/N, you've got me wrapped around the irritating finger of yours."

"Just shut up and kiss me Fred." You breathlessly whisper, not realising that you'd been holding your breath the entire time.

After waiting for what seemed like forever, he wasted no time pouncing on you. His hand is behind your neck and he pushes you down onto the bed, hovering on top of you.

Fred's lips meet yours furiously, desperately, never in your life has someone kissed you this passionately before. You open your mouth, and he slides his tongue in, a desirous clash of tongues. He savours every inch of your mouth and it makes you wonder how long he's been wanting to do this for.

"May I?" He asks for permission as he tugs at the belt of your bathrobe.

You nod, too breathless to speak as you gaze up at him. Fred undoes your robes, leaving you clothe-less on the bed. He does the same, kneeling between your legs which are spread open and on either side of his waist. You subconsciously give him doe-eyes as he does so, merlin, he looked so deliciously attractive.

"So fucking beautiful, all this hidden from me all these years?" He leans down and gently kisses your neck while gripping your waist, sucking on a sensitive spot which earns a moan from you.

"Going to leave hickey's on you so everyone knows you're mine gorgeous."

"Who said I was yours?" Every so daring you retort, though you lacked conviction.

He chuckled lowly before sucking on another sensitive spot, leaving a reddish mark on you, "Fred..." you moan again. His kisses grow more wet and fervent as he plants kisses trailing down your body. His hands move from your waist to your breasts, massaging them gently as he continues further down your body.

You're barely able to control the obscene moans slipping from your mouth, any attempts at suppressing them growing more difficult by the second. You didn't even care that people around you might hear.

"You're soaking wet, and yet you say you're not mine." Fred cooed, his eyes glued to your heat, coated with glistening wetness.

You revel in the fact that he can barely take his eyes off you, you glance at him, eyes half-lidded, clouded with lust. Once he catches sight of your lustful eyes, desperate for him, he can't tear his gaze away from you. He slowly leans down, sensually licking your coated slick.

Your sensitive cunt throbs even harder upon the contact from his tongue, "Fred please..." You whine, throwing your head back onto the pillow.

He traces the shape of your vulva, pressing kitten licks on your needy clit, causing your legs to clamp around his head. He doesn't break eye-contact, as he continues to work his mouth around your core.

He continues sucking your clit, his tongue working his way on your swollen pearl.

You tangle your hands in his head, tugging lightly. Your body can't help but arch into his face due to the overwhelming pleasure, as he continues indulging in your cunt. "Merlin Fred!" You cry out as he suckles on a particularly sensitive spot.

"You taste so damn good love, so sweet unlike that bitter mouth, hm?"

"I'm yours Fred....all yours..." You whimper, succumbing to his words.

"Say that again." His voice low, commanding, you could feel the heat from his mouth near your throbbing cunt.

"I'm yours, Fred." You moan, as he continues straight into your core.

The feeling is heavenly, both hands tangled in his red locks as he gives you the most pleasant head you've ever felt in your life. Once he stops assaulting your clit, he lifts his head and faces you, his eyes smiling up at you, as though you are the most beautiful person he's ever seen.

Oh, you're so close, tilting over the edge of something mind-blowing. He leans down and gives your clit a few more kitten licks, planting soft kisses before pulling away, just as you were about to cum.

"Don't stop," you whimper, "I was so close...."

"Fred?" You plead, again, but he sits up and crawls to you, now hovering over you his hands on either side of your head. "Please let me cum...."

"You will, darling." He cooes, leaning down to your ear, "Around my cock."

You felt yourself throbbing yet again, upon his words. What the hell was he doing to you, causing you to feel this weak beneath him? This powerless? Your sharp, witty tongue, nowhere in sight.

"Please Fred, I need you." You whine, begging him for more.

"What ever happened to, 'I despise you'?" He hovered over you and you sat up, meeting his lips. Giving him a passionate, hungry kiss before pulling away,

"There is a fine line between hate and love, and I think today I've learnt that you've been sitting in the wrong category all along."

He smiled, brushing a hand on your cheek as he gazed down at you lovingly, "Took me so long to realise that you're the only person I've ever felt something with."

"Took us bloody ages." You roll your eyes fondly, before giggling as he pecked your forehead gently.

You gazed up at him with doe-eyes, and him down at you, to your lips then back up, his mouth parted slightly as he took in how breathtaking you looked beneath him. Shit, you were always beautiful to him, he'd only now realised.

"Need you inside me Fred." You plead softly, desperately, which only fuelled his desire for you even more.

"Anything for you, love."

You never thought you'd admit it, but he has a fucking incredible dick. You assumed he'd be packing because he was 6"3, but the sight of it made you drool. Bloody hell, he had every right to be so smug.

His slit was already leaking with precum, his eyes lock onto yours as he lowers himself. Your legs are still on each side of his waist, he grabs his dick and teases it along your wet entrance, sliding it a few times to coat it with your slickness.

You involuntarily buck your hips, desperate for penetration as you whimper. He slowly lowers himself down, and finally into you.

At first, you hiss at the pain upon being stretched out by his hugeness, you could feel him stretching your walls, registering that fact that he was fully inside you now.

"Fuck...." he moans, letting out a groan, "So tight for me hm?"

"Freddie...." You moan as he begins moving, rocking his hips slowly. You get used to the size of him, filling you to the brim, every slight bit of movement causing your walls to tense around his dick, rubbing within you sensually.

"I know baby, I know." He responds softly, continuing at this pace.

With every rock, his breathing increases, your soft pleas and his eager pants filling the room as he speeds up, going faster and harder.

Your moans start to get louder, getting more deafening by the minute. Fred leans down to plant kisses on your neck, and pecking your lips occasionally, you moan into him as he drives himself further into your core.

"You're doing so well baby." He coos into your ear, murmuring praises as he continues to thrust into you.

Fred doesn't stop pounding into you, you move your hands to his back, your nails practically digging into his skin from the pleasure.

Skin slapping against skin, you feel every jolt of his body into you. He's fucking you so gently but hard at the same time, treating you as though you were the most fragile thing on the planet.

"Baby..." You whimper, eyes fluttering shut, as he continues thrusting into you deeply, you are overwhelmed with so much pressure that you might cry, but it just felt so damn pleasurable.

"I'm getting close Fred." You pant, breathing heavily, as he picks up his pace.

"Look at me." He demands, and you open your eyes, gazing into his hazel ones. For once, they aren't filled with irritation, or the usual annoyance you were used to seeing, they were more gentle, admiring you, it was a look of love.

"Fred, I'm so close!" You cry out, feeling an orgasm coming closer, "I'm gonna—" you can barely finish your sentence, the pressure. on your g-spot and the intense penetration becoming too much for you to handle, along with the gaze of hazel eyes burning into you.

You let out an obscene moan as your walls clench around him, you jerk harshly, causing him to let out a guttural moan. It's a pleasurable ache, your entire body pulses beneath him.

"Gonna come inside you baby, that okay?" He asks, and you nod, to breathless to speak.

Seconds later, he comes undone, squirting his juices inside you. The world slows down as you enter your state of euphoria; you're entangled in pure bliss as you come down from your high. Your body is still electrified from the feeling before.

It takes a while for you to fully settle down. You slowly flutter your eyes open to find yourself engulfed in Fred's buff arms, your breathing in sync. The two of you lean against the wooden bed-frame, and you lean your head on his shoulder, while he cradles you.

You glance down at your body and notice that it's covered in marks, which looked bloody hot. Merlin, you really were Fred's now huh?

"So much for body heat." You chuckled softly, as he stroked your back gently.

He laughs, and you feel the vibrations of his chest, "The best kind of heat if you ask me." He says which earned an eyeroll from you.

Fred plants a soft kiss on your head, "Y'know I'm not one for apologies, but I was a bit of a jerk to you back in Hogwarts, and I want to apologise."

"It was a two-way thing, Freddie, suppose I should apologise for being one too. Merlin, you did grate on every last one of my nerves though." You tease.

"Always a pleasure." He grinned down at you, engulfed in his arms as you looked up at him, sharing a moment of sweet silence as you put the past behind you.

A ray of moonlight shone through the tiny gap in the curtain. You turned your head, glancing out the window as you pondered about the others back at the burrow.

"What're we going to tell the others when we find them tomorrow?" You giggled, taking in the state you were both in.

"I have a feeling they won't be surprised." Fred confessed.

"What do you mean?"

"Everyone in my family thinks we have a thing for each other, especially Ginny. Won't stop talking about us that sister of mine."

"Since when?!" You were amused, the two of you were the epitome of the word hate back in Hogwarts and to hear a statement like this shocked you.

"Since school apparently." He laughed, shaking his head, "I thought it was silly too, but look where we are now."

"Just wait one day, you'll eventually get married." He mocked Ginny's tone, mirroring her facial expressions too, and you couldn't help but laugh.

"Please, you and me?" You raised a brow, teasing him, though biting back a fond smile.

"Neverrrr." He scrunched up his nose, holding you closer as you both now laid down in bed, safely in each other's grasp.

Finally comfortable, you found yourself drifting off into a much-needed slumber. The same could be said for Fred, it was safe to say the body-heat idea turned out better than anticipated.

And with this newfound love, perhaps the broomstick breaking was a blessing in disguise.

[dollishmehrayan]

# “MRS. WAYNE I THINK THIS IS FOR YOU!” ── .✦ ( bruce wayne wife headcannons )

a/n: this was request by a anon (here) so yeah but anyways I Lowkey used to be OBSESSED with like batmom stories but like I genuinely then lost all care for liking anything bruce wayne but this might just like help me (jason todd girly converts into a batmom Stan😭) tags: (bruce wayne x fem!reader)

CHAOTIC HEADCANNONS ─��� .✦

“No, Bruce. That’s Not a Normal Thing to Do.”

You frequently have to remind him that billionaire habits don’t translate to normal life.

Bruce: “I thought I’d buy out the café you like so you wouldn’t have to wait in line.”

You: “Bruce, we’re just getting lattes. Calm down.”

The expensive car Dilemma: He’s tried picking you up in one of his expensive cars once, and you’ve never let him live it down.

“Bruce, we’re not running a car dealership we’re going to Target.”

Tech Mishaps: Bruce likes to show off his gadgets, but they always malfunction around you. Once, the Batcomputer locked him out because you accidentally spilled coffee near it. You took a picture of his shocked face and made it your phone wallpaper for weeks.

The Disastrous Cooking Attempts: Bruce insists he can cook. The truth? Alfred banned him from the kitchen after he tried to “surprise” you with pancakes and set the stovetop on fire.

“I’m Batman, but I can’t handle pancake batter.”

OVERPROTECTIVE HUSBAND™ ── .✦

He’ll interrogate any new friends you bring around like they’re suspects in a heist.

Bruce, shaking someone’s hand firmly: “And what do you do for a living?”

You, glaring: “Bruce, they’re not applying to join the Justice League.”

GOSSIP FINAL BOSS ── .✦

He pretends not to care about gossip, but he secretly listens to you rant about gala drama. Sometimes, he’ll even chime in with hilariously accurate observations.

You: “That woman was glaring at me all night.”

Bruce: “Because she kept seeing her husband looking at you’re instagram posts. Trust me, Alfred told me.”

ROMANTIC HCS ── .✦

Constant Gentleman Mode: Bruce is always opening doors for you, carrying your bags, or pulling out your chair. You tease him about being old-fashioned, but it’s clear he loves taking care of you.

Private Dance Lessons in the Manor: When you’re stressed, Bruce will put on some music in the empty ballroom and sweep you into an impromptu dance. He’s a surprisingly good dancer, but the way he looks at you mid-spin? That’s what makes your heart race.

Personal Love Notes: Bruce doesn’t text much, but he leaves little handwritten notes around the house.

“Don’t forget, you’re the best part of my day.”

“Coffee’s ready downstairs. So is your husband, who can’t stop thinking about you.”

The ‘I’m Watching You’ Look: At galas, Bruce can’t stop staring at you. When you catch him, he gives that little smirk that says, Yeah, you caught me, but I’m not sorry.

Soft Batman Moments: Even in the Batcave, he has moments where he’s just your Bruce. When he sees you waiting up for him late at night, he’ll silently take off his cowl, walk over, and hold you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

Protective, but Not Controlling: He worries, of course, but he respects your independence. If you’re ever in trouble, though, the Bat is out faster than you can blink. “No one touches my wife.”

Gift Giving Expert: He puts serious thought into gifts. One time, he recreated your childhood bedroom in the manor when you were feeling homesick. “I just wanted you to feel at home,” he said, completely nonchalant.

The Morning Ritual: He wakes up early to watch you sleep for a few minutes (in the least creepy way possible) because it’s his quiet reminder of how lucky he is. When you stir awake, he presses a kiss to your forehead and whispers, “Good morning, love.”

Subtle Public Affection: In public, his affection is subtle—hand on the small of your back, thumb grazing your hand, or an almost imperceptible wink across the room. But behind closed doors? He’s all cuddles and kisses.

Always Puts You First: Whether it’s cutting a patrol short to spend time with you or risking everything to keep you safe, Bruce’s priority will always be you. “The city can wait. You can’t.”

MIX OF CHAOS AND ROMANCE ── .✦

When Bruce tries to be romantic but Alfred bringing him back to reality: Bruce, holding your hand: “You’re the light in my dark world.”

Alfred, walking in: “Sir, you said that to the last woman, too. Shall I fetch your script?”

You once jokingly wore a bat-symbol T-shirt to tease him. Bruce didn’t say anything, but later that week, he wore a matching shirt that said, “I <3 My Wife.”

[softbabybelle]

corruption 001. 𓍯𓂃 rֶָ֢ cameron

rafe cameron x shy!reader

𝜗𝜚 Summary : rafe finds sarah's best friend sitting in her room after she sneaks out to see her boyfriend, topper, and offers to keep her busy while teaching her something new.

𝜗𝜚 words : 2.5k

𝜗𝜚 c!w : weed, smoking, drvgs, suggestive.

part 2. part 3.

by the time sarah had re-entered her own bedroom, you were laying on your back across her bed, twisting your hair above your face, absentmindedly playing with the strands.

"i have a favour to ask." upon hearing your best friend's voice, you turned so you were laying on your stomach.

you liked having sleepover's with sarah but sometimes, she wasn't all that reliable. "m'kay." though you already had an idea what following words would pass her lips.

"i just got off the phone with topper and he wants me to go meet him." she settled herself against her drawers. "but my dad'll kill me if i stay out past curfew. think you could cover for me?"

you batted your lids at the girl, frowning for various reasons. you'd brought all your stuff so you and sarah could hang out, you were getting a little tired of her using you as an excuse to see her boyfriend and you were downright petrified of ward cameron. there was something awfully frightening about your friends' parents.

but you didn't like to be troublesome. so a small "okay." passed your lips with a thin smile.

it took sarah less than twenty minutes to get ready and before you knew it, you were waving goodbye as she snuck out the window.

she left the tv on so you could watch one of your shows but you were much more inclined to reading the book in your bag. at this point, you'd grown accustomed to sarah leaving you during the middle of your sleepover's, you had to come prepared.

the reason she invited you over and snuck out was because she knew ward wouldn't dare go near her room when she had a friend over. none of her family did.

well, none aside from one.

"sarah!" you heard a familiar voice from behind the door followed by a bang against it that rafe cameron would later excuse as a 'knock'. "listen, i know you took my fuckin' charger, so give it ba―oh."

rafe was sarah's older brother, you'd seen him around plenty of times and he'd surely seen you. at this point, you practically lived in the house. many times you'd sat across from him at the dinner table or sat on the beach chairs with sarah while he was in the pool. though you didn't often speak to him.

perhaps that was your fault more than it was his, though.

"you're here." he stated, glancing around the room for the white charger he was missing.

rafe often initiated conversation with you but it was only in your shy nature to nod after he said something and use less than two words to communicate before scurrying down the hall after sarah.

this time, she wasn't here to be your human shield.

"uhm, yeah." you sort of just squirmed, hoping he didn't ask about why you were in here alone.

but you didn't often get what you hoped for. "where's sarah?" snatching up the charger. upon his question, you blinked at him, a stretch of panic flashed across your face. you didn't even need to say anything, your look gave it all away. "snuck out with topper, huh?"

your top lip snuck your bottom teeth in. "please don't tell." you weren't used to being so confined with rafe. sure, you'd been in a hallway with him before but come to think of it, you weren't sure you'd ever been in a small room like sarah's, alone, with the door shut.

"wasn't going to." he counters. his eyes pass over the room, raking down to you. you were sitting on the bed with a little book in your hands, pink bookmark sticking out from the page you left it on. "you don't need to be sittin' pretty in here all alone, though." he approached the door before turning to face you. "you comin'?"

it was as if he'd expected you to follow. you hastily stood, pink blush across your cheeks. "where are we going?"

he shrugged. "my room." as if it'd been obvious.

a nervous pit swirled in your stomach. you hadn't spent enough alone time with rafe to be invited into his bedroom. sarah was the one out of the two of you who talked to many guys. you kind of just stood idly by, a nervous look on your face as you bit your bottom lip and angled your head to look at the ground. you supposed rafe wasn't so bad, though.

after all, you practically grew up with the boy.

but that didn't make it any easier.

"so, uh, how's school?" he sniffed, inviting you into the room before shutting the door closed.

you'd been around sarah and her friends long enough to know that the smell swirling the room was weed. something you'd never so much as touched. the room also had a smell of some expensive cologne, the same one you often detected from rafe.

"it's okay." you offered, standing idly near his dresser, hands messing with the hem of your shirt. "what about you?"

a soft sort of smirk fell across his face. "i'm not in school anymore." he reminded you before taking a seat on the bed, taking something out from the beside table's drawer.

"i knew that, sorry." you felt your face flush. you hated this, always making yourself look silly when you spoke to rafe. it was why you avoided him in the first place. you wanted nothing more than to run out of the room to where you came from. but sarah was gone, meaning you had nobody to use as an excuse or a getaway.

you'd merely have to endure.

he didn't say anything, only offering a humorous huff from his lips.

"you mind?" your eyes trailed down to what was in his hands, the source of the smell you'd detected earlier. "asked you a question, sweetheart."

"oh, uhm." your eyes snapped up to meet his, head feeling floaty at the name. "i don't mind if you smoke. it's you're room."

again, he offered no response but continued to take out his pieces. he was currently in search of a lighter. "what are you standin' all the way over there for? sit down. i don't bite." but there was a quirk to his lips when he said it that made you think he did bite.

"sorry." you mumbled before shuffling to the bed to sit on the furthest edge you could.

you didn't miss the way rafe rolled his eyes. he looked back at you, studying your features. "split one with me?" he was testing the waters. he knew you enough to gauge assumptions about you. asking him? you didn't drink, didn't smoke, didn't have sex. you were the type of girl who stayed in your friends bedroom reading a book while they snuck out to meet their boyfriend.

he wanted to see if you'd give in.

your eyes were watching his hands, the way he rolled paper between his fingers. "uhm, 've never smoked."

ding ding ding.

he cocked his head. "want to try?" he could see immediate panic flash across your features. in a way, it was exactly what he wanted. he wanted to soothe you into this, not for you to instantly kneel at his every command. he knew you weren't easy. "c'mon, baby, 's just me. promise i won't let anything happen to you."

"i don't know." you shook your head slightly.

you were no stranger to the names he used on you. he often spoke them in a soft yet playful voice, especially around sarah. you just thought he liked seeing his sister get angry, tossing a pillow his way and telling him to stop treating you like one of his 'notches on his belt' but if he was only keen on making sarah angry, then why was he calling you such things while you were alone, sarah nowhere in sight?

"how long have you known me?" since you were very, very young. "one can't hurt. you trust me?" you slowly nodded, eyes still wavering to his hands. "so what'do you say?"

you knew you shouldn't. if your parents ever found out, they'd kill you with their bare hands and rafe would be next in their death note journal.

but there was something about the way he was looking at you that had your stomach folding in two.

besides, you never did like upsetting people.

if you didn't say yes, rafe would think that you didn't like him. he would be upset that you'd be so mean to refuse such a kind offer.

so nonetheless, a small squeak of an "okay." left your lips.

"atta girl. c'mere." he gestured down and you blinked at him confusedly. was he asking you to sit in his lap? you swallowed thickly. "c'mere." he repeated, this time between a soft chuckle. he reached out for you, helping you to sit flush against his lap.

instantly, you swore you had never been so red in your life.

your eyes were all wide and embarrassed, cheeks flaming red hot while you tucked your bottom lip under your top one again. a habit you supposed you'd die with. to say you were shocked to feel his hand against your face was an understatement. his thumb pulled at your lip from between your teeth, securing it away from harm. "don't do that." he mumbled. "you know how to take a pull?"

awkward and embarrassed were two words you swore were forgetting their meaning. this was above and beyond that. "you just... suck, right?" you squirmed in his lap at your own words.

"inhale, sweetheart." he moved the rolled blunt up to your lips. "open." you complied and he stuck it between the two, lifting the lighter to set the top to a low burn. "don't try to keep it in, 'kay?"

you nodded, inhaling the blunt and finding a strange sensation fill your mouth.

you'd never smoked a cigarette before, much less a blunt.

it was a weird feeling but you did what he said, you didn't try to keep it in. you moved the blunt from your lips with your fingers and didn't feel the need to couch heavily. you just blew the smokey air back out.

"good girl." the soft pads of his fingers trailed softly against your bare thighs below your sleep shorts. you felt your stomach do flips at the praise. "did so well. you sure you haven't done this before?"

you nodded with a slight giggle. "'m sure."

you watched as he lifted the blunt to his lips, taking a drag, then another. he didn't seem as phased as he did. "mm, don' know if i believe you on that one, princess."

"i haven't!" your hips gently reached up against his own. "swear." before simmering back down.

he lifted the blunt to your lips. this time, he didn't need to tell you to part your mouth, you just did it. "cross your heart 'n hope to die?"

he was staring at you so intently that you swore you'd never seen anyone's eyes so vividly, never been more interested in the squiggles of blue in someone's iris or the way his pupils slowly began expanding.

all you could offer was a slow nod as he watched you take another inhale of the blunt, eyes suddenly now steady on your lips, watching you stain the end of the paper pink with lipgloss.

a smirk fell on his lips as he leaned back onto the headboard. one minute, you were too shy to leave sarah's room, now you were sitting on his lap, smoking a blunt with him.

rafe merely had a way with women.

"so what, you feel like 'm corrupting you yet?" his steady smirk and sly hand trailing up your thigh.

a giggle passed your lips as you shook your head. "no."

he hummed. "plenty of time for that." you weren't too sure what he'd meant, though you hadn't actually asked him either.

it didn't take long for you to get high. rafe realised this within less than a few minutes. your pupils had turned wide, eyes gone glassy and suddenly you couldn't stop licking your already wet lips. you were staring at him, a little too much, not that he was complaining. he'd spent too long waiting for you to shyly meet his eye. with the weed in your system, you couldn't seem to look away.

"can i ask you something?" his voice was low, hardly a whisper as he spoke now, as if afraid he'd awake something and the room would turn to dust, the moment would fade from his memory and this moment would dissappear.

"uh-huh." you were busy looking at him, downright gawking. your eyes were shamelessly staring right at his lips.

he wasn't as buzzed as you. but to be honest, he'd been doing this a long time before you. "have you ever been kissed?"

it was his turn for his eyes to advert to your lips. all glossy and wet. for the thousandth time, your tongue peaked out, wetting them again before biting your bottom lip.

he couldn't get you to stop biting it, no matter how hard he tried.

he'd merely have to train you, when the time came.

"mm-mm." you shook your head at him. finally, your eyes broke from his lips and looked up at his eyes. he could see now, how truly buzzed you were. your eyes were all red and glassy, it was almost as if he could feel you floating. you tilted your head at him. "are you gonna kiss me?"

his hands ran up and down against your skin. "do you want me to?" a hesitant nod followed his question. "say please." pulling the blunt up to his lips for another drag. it was almost out now.

it was a mindless tease but he felt you squirm in his lap again. "please, rafe." voice but a whiney murmur.

he blew the smoke out from his lips and watched it fall into your own parted mouth.

your eyes fluttered shut and he didn't give you a chance to think, his lips replacing the smoke. his were hungry, your's were soft, inviting. and he took the invite as soon as it'd been handed to him. his hand ran up your back, shoving your body as close to his own as he could. he wanted the heat to envelope him, wanted your skin against his own. wanted so badly to rip off every piece of clothing that tainted you. wanted you to be his for the taking.

but the way you suddenly pulled back, those doey, bloodshot eyes and fearful voice murmuring the words, "you're not gonna tell sarah, are you?" told rafe exactly what he already knew.

he need to be patient with you. take his time unravelling you until there was nothing left.

he shook his head, fingers soft against your face, running across your cheek.

"don't worry, sweetheart, your dirty secret's safe with me."

[envy-of-the-apple]

Fun Sized

Dark!Fairy!Gojo Satoru x reader

Word Count: 2k

Synopsis: You save a tiny fairy. Gojo Satoru decides that you and him belong together, regardless of how little he is and how little you think of him. 

(Warnings: Yandere, not many warnings in this one ngl)

The fae are a dangerous bunch. You've heard more than enough stories to be spooked. Sirens will sing beautiful songs before dragging you into the depths. Dragons will burn you to a crisp before a second's thought. Nagas would make sure you were alive until the very end as they feast on your organs. Centaurs would use their powerful legs to stomp yours to mere twigs. Driders would suck your blood until there's nothing left but a husk of your body. 

You've never heard anything about fairies. They didn't live in your region. Their lands were high in the mountains, where humans rarely traveled. Also, they were so tiny, according to the books. The biggest seemed to be barely the size of your hand. They were harmless, you concluded. Harmless to humans. Harmless to you. 

He had been harmless. At first, you thought it was a cluster of leaves in the stream, but as the current drew it closer, you noticed tiny arms and a tiny face. He was unconscious; you didn't even know if the poor thing was alive. 

The Fae are a dangerous bunch, but saving one tiny fairy couldn't hurt, right? 

Your guest quickly proved to be a bigger hassle than you initially thought. 

When you brought him to your cottage, he laid in a basket of warm linen, asleep for hours near the warm fireplace. The blueberry pie was still hot when you turned around and caught him staring at you. 

It was silent for a while, and then you said: 

"Do you like sweets?" 

That's how your tentative friendship with the other kind started. Gojo Satoru (you later learned his name) was a boisterous thing. He did in fact like sweets, which helped bribe his friendship. You're surprised that he ate so much despite his stature. Did all faires have black holes for stomachs? 

He healed up rather quickly. At first, you were afraid that his wings had crumbled due to the prolonged exposure to water. But after stuffing himself full of the blueberry syrup, he smiled widely before flitting out your window. 

You thought that would be the end of it, but then he just came coming back. 

Apparently, your baking skills left an impact on the small creature. He didn't visit often, but when he did, you would always make sure you had something. Whether it be cookies, brownies, or that blueberry pie he was so fond of. Anything was good enough for Gojo's taste palette. 

"In the fae lands," Gojo said when you prodded, "sweets are too sweet. Yours is just enough."  You weren't too sure what he meant by that, but you took it as a compliment. You were sure the fae wasn't something who'd give praises so easily. 

It's not like you were upset at providing food for your tiny friend. Quite the contrary. You loved it when Gojo visited. You found him fascinating, the way he could fly miles and miles above your head. How tiny he was. The amount of times you had to hold yourself back from squishing him between your fingers because of how cute he was scared you. 

And you hoped you were fascinating enough to entertain Gojo. You had to be; you don't know why else he'd keep coming back. Even after gobbling down your cooking, he'd lounge around your home, entertaining you with his stories. You learned of the other magical creatures he was in contact with, the students he taught, and how fond he was of them. You don't know why he was so open about sharing his personal life with you, in the stories fae hated humanity, but you would never complain. 

It doesn't click as to why Gojo's so invested in you until he comes out and says it himself. 

"Instead of me coming back and forth like this, why don't you just come live with me?" He says, "I would cut down my flying time by a lot." 

You stare at him in amusement, sure he's joking. "I'm not sure how I'd fit in your house." You tease. "I'd probably crush all your furniture." 

"I can make my house bigger." He announces. "Don't worry 'bout it, just say yes." 

You stare at him, slowly realizing that he isn't as amused. He's still smiling, but there's no joke. 

"No," you finally say, "I'm not doing that." 

He cocks his head surprised as though he's never had someone reject him before. 

"What?" He asks, "Why not?"

"Well." You clear your throat. "For one, I'm human, and you're a fairie. I don't think Fae would appreciate a human wandering around in their lands." 

"Who cares about all that?" Gojo waves his hands around. "You'll be with me, anyways. It'd be fine." 

"I don't get why you're so fixated on the human realm." His mouth turns into a sneer. "It's all so boring. Nothing ever happens. And our magic is much more advanced than yours." It's true. You can't disagree with that. Satoru didn't wear clothes made out of leaves or vines, unlike the common fairy stereotype. His clothing looked much more advanced compared to your loose cotton dresses. A black shirt with intricate buttons and long sleeves. Along with black trousers. You wonder what material could make his suit so shiny. 

You laugh at his disgust. At that time, you saw Gojo as a tiny child clutching their mother's skirts, a cute puppy. You hadn't yet taken Gojo Satoru as the threat he was. 

"It's because I am human." You say, not offended by his remarks. "So I like being near other humans." 

He groans as though your logic makes no sense. "Yuji and the others ask about you all the time, though. They've been dying to meet you." 

"You talk to your students about the giant that cooks for you? I'm flattered." 

"You're dodging," he warns. You roll your eyes. 

"Satoru, I'm not coming to live with you. It'd be too much of a hassle." You finally say. "Besides, you're not my type." 

"I'm everyone's type." He argues. 

"Not mine." You smile, and then you make your first blunder. 

"I like my men a little taller." 

He stiffens, and you know you said the wrong thing. Your smile fades as does the cheery energy in your cottage. He says nothing, but he's zipping out your window before you can apologize. 

He doesn't return for the longest time. You count the weeks. Guilt weighs on your shoulders, heavy and burdensome. Every day you bake something even tastier than the day before. Not even that is enough to coax him back. 

You think you've lost him forever, when he returns on one sweltering summer evening. 

"Hi." You blink. He's watching you, sitting idly on the window, kicking his tiny feet. 

"Hi." He smiles. 

You're happy enough to grab him with one fist and hugging him to your chest, but as always, you stop yourself. Instead, a shy smile rests on your face. 

"I'm sorry," you say, "I really am...will you accept an apology pie?" 

He grins wider, and you relax. 

He eats, and you're grateful. Something you once cherished in your life has finally come back to you. You might not return Gojo's feelings, but you still care for him. You'd rather die than ever hurt him again. 

"No, you're right." Gojo surprisingly concedes when you apologize for the third time. "We're too different. It'd never work out. Not as the way you are, right now." 

You nod, grateful he's so understanding. "Exactly." 

He's finishing up when he announces he brought you a gift. 

"I've been working on it for the past few weeks," he cheerily says. "It took a while, but it's finally safe for human consumption." 

He takes out a tiny glass bottle filled with something swirling and blue. When he asks you to bring a glass of water, you acquiesce. To your astonishment, when the elixer is poured, the entire water becomes a swirling mass of a color comparable to none other than galaxies. You're so mesmerized by the color, it's enough to stump your voice. 

"For you!" He declares. "You've always been cooking for me; thought I might return the favor, just this once." 

"What is it?" You ask, amazed by the color. You admire the glance, unaware of the glint in Gojo's eye. 

"It's kinda like the wine you have in the mortal realms, but a little less poignant." He gives when you glance at him. "Go on, tell me what you think?" 

You're too trusting, and so you make your second blunder. 

Once you start, you can't seem to stop. The taste is otherworldly, addicting. You drink and drink, not wasting a single drop. You're breathing heavily once the cup detaches from your lips. 

"Amazing." You say before looking at him. His eyes are too wide, but you're too distracted by the taste still on your tongue. "Seriously, what was that? Can I make it here?" 

He scratches the back of his head. "Not really, the ingredients are pretty hard to find." He shrugs. "Besides, it's supposed to be a one-time use." 

Your eyebrows twist, and then the world sinks. 

You're falling. You think you are. You don't really know. Everything feels like it's stretching. The walls of your tiny little cottage get higher and higher and higher. The floor gets more and more warped. You're sinking, sinking through the air. When you scream, nothing comes out. You feel like you're choking because you can't breathe, and then your vision grows black. 

The next time you open your eyes. It's still dark, and to your horror, you realize you're buried underneath something. 

You panic, clawing and tearing your way out. The material gives away easily. It's fabric. Cotton. But there was so much, an undying ocean of fabric. You lift yourself up from the pile and that's when you realize you're completely naked. 

The mountain of cotton you just climbed to the top of was your old dress. 

Everything was gigantic—the table, the chairs. The windows seemed endless. The ceiling looked miles above you, and you know what happened, but your brain can't formulate it because it can't be—it just can't be.

There's a flutter of wings. You always thought he was so quiet before. Now, he's all you can hear. Immediately, you wrap your body with the cloth. It's hard to keep still; your body is buzzing with nerves and you still can't understand. You have to force yourself to look at him.

You don't know why you expected shock, guilt, something other than the pure manic glee on his face. Satoru towers above you, head tilted. He bends down, cupping your trembling face in his hand because he's big enough to do that now. 

"Just when I thought you couldn't get any more adorable." He coos. 

You can see him now. His skin isn't pale, it's borderline translucent. His canines are sharp and pointy. And his eyes. Oh God you've never seen eyes so terrifying before—an endless mass of blue, threatening to swallow you whole. 

He wasn't a cute little fairy. He was anything but that. 

"Gojo..." You start, heart squeezing. "What did you do.." 

You know. He knows. That's why he ignores your question entirely. 

"I'm surprised it worked." He says, mainly talking to himself. "Shoko said it might be a dud, and she was so sure of it, that I mostly believed her." 

"But now look at you!" He roughly pinches your cheek. "You're the perfect size now." 

"Stop." You blubber, pushing his hand off of you. "Don't touch me. Change me back. Change me back." 

He frowns. "Why would I do that? You being human-sized was always such a hassle. Lumbering around. Way too loud. Don't get me wrong, I adore you either way." He proclaims like it's something benevolent. "But this has its charm."

He leans forward, and you scuddle backward in fear. His grin widens. 

"So, am I tall enough for you, now?"