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prettyboykatsuki · 11 days ago

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do you see anyone other than me? (baby please) | rafayel (lnds)

✮ tags ; rafayel x fem+ afab!reader, established relationships, dom!reader, sub!rafayel, gentle femdom, oral (m!recieving + some f!recieving), anal (m!recieving), praise kink (so much), dirty talk (SO much),pegging / topping, top!reader, bottom!rafayel dry orgasms 18+

✮ wc ; 6.9k (come on man)

✮ a/n ; reader and mc do not share a personality in this. reader is intentionally meant to have like... a more serious personality. so they are mc but not at the same time if that makes sense sdkjskj.

also i know this guy but only a little bit. i was planning on binging the main story after caleb got released but got ?? caught up writing this?? this has happened twice im so scared

✮ synopsis ; making sure rafayel actually forgives you is at the top of your priorities.

When you come home from the office, take your shoes off, and turn the corner into the living room—you know without looking that Rafayel is in a mood.

Not a good one.

It’s something in the air, a lingering tension that makes all movement stiff as you attempt to navigate through the unease. You find Rafayel on the couch. Soft, deep lavender waves tussled like he’s been tossing and turning - pressed into the side of the couch. All curled up small.

Somehow, you just know what sort of attitude you’ll be met with. You know your lover well enough to know that he’ll be moody but you’ve less confidence in regards to what that mood may be.

Taking a deep breath, you step into the wide expanse of Rafayel’s living room and studio. His head turns, bangs falling in his face as you slide your work bag off from your shoulder to set aside. Your keys, noisy as you set them down, even gently—trying to leave the air undisturbed. He’s looking at you from over his shoulder but realizes he can’t completely see you that way. Instead of standing to his feet to come greet you, he drops his head back on the arm of the couch to stare at you upside down in a tense silence.

You give him a look. His mood is sour. Maybe more than you thought. He smiles first, then frowns unhappily before turning his attention back to what he was doing. You hear small scratching noises—he’s sketching. You wonder how long he’s been sitting there doing that, since he usually just prefers to paint without thinking too hard.

After that, he doesn’t look at you. He doesn’t greet you, either.

“I’m home.” You say evenly. You think about being placating from the jump, but without knowing his exact reason - you worry you’ll only worsen the state of affairs.

Rafayel hums. “Welcome home.”

Your brain wracks through every possibility on what could be the source of this level of moodiness. Sometimes, his moody behavior is for kicks but it’s not this time. If it was, he’d lay it on thickly. Act theatrically towards you, get in your face about it.

But he’s tense, forceful—every scratch of his pencil is too harsh like it’s rife with irritation. You tread carefully.

“Can I sit with you?”

“Why are you asking? Don’t you live here too? Just because I bought the couches with my money doesn’t mean—“

“Rafayel.” You say, interrupting him. He scowls at you. “Can I?”

As if more bothered by you being level, he huffs. It’s followed with a business smile over his shoulder. “Sure. Do whatever you want.”

You choose to sit on the empty end of the couch where Rafayel does his sketching - fitting yourself in the gap of his space near his feet. You slide yourself in then gently lift his legs into your lap. Rafayel gives you a look when you do this, clearly debating on whether or not he should reject your act of goodwill. Ultimately he stays.

Notably, while his pencil is still scratching on paper - you think by this point he’s not really sketching anything at all.

“I got off of work late,” You explain. You rest your hands on his calf gently. “There was an incident near the station but it was a false alarm so I ended up being cleared.”

“Oh? Is that so?”

Warm, you think. You nod.

“There’s been a lot of Metaflux increases in the residential districts close to our headquarters. It’s odd.” You explain. Rafayel is quiet, looking at his nails disinterested. You go on, not taking offense. “Strange as it is, there’s been no active threats. Still, given the location, it needs a lot of man power to be investigated.”

Rafayel sits quietly, unreadable. You continue on. “So it’s been busy. I think we’ve cleared the level of threat, so another team will probably take over soon.”

“Hm.” Rafayel says, a petulant edge to his voice. Warmer. “So that’s why you’ve been so late this week. I guess it’s good that nothing happened. It must’ve been difficult, so difficult if you could barely spend time with your one and only lover. But I guess it’s fine, it’s not like there’s anything you can do in that circumstances. Well, you could’ve done a lot but if it didn’t occur to you there’s nothing to be said, then again—why would it—“

Hot. “Rafayel.”

“What.”

“I’m sorry for being late,” You say.

A beat. His frown deepens.

“And?”

You pause before answering, smiling apologetically. “For not keeping in contact with you more.”

Some of the life returns to him. You’ve deduced the source of his bad mood, which means the only thing left is to alleviate it. You don’t like seeing him upset. He’s quick to forgive you, always optimistic and trying to keep your relationship lighthearted.

But there is an underlying desire in him that makes you more conscious about any minor infringements. Despite himself, Rafayel is more concerned about you liking him than he’ll ever let on in his life. Even when he’s upset, he’ll forgive you - but the feelings linger until they explode. When he gets like that, it’s much harder to comfort him.

It’ll fester if you don’t apologize properly. You know him well enough to know that and you love him well enough to not want to see when disaster strikes.

(Plus, there’s something about the way he’s still pouting. He’s trying to relax, but it’s there. It’s cute to you. It makes you want to kiss it better.)

“I’m sorry,” You offer. You reach for the hand resting in his lap and he lets you take it, though it’s limp. You press a kiss to the back of it, eyes full of affection. “I’m not used to having someone wait for me,”

Rafayel makes another face at you, unreadable. “Not just anyone.”

You laugh lightly. “That’s true.”

Squeezing his hand tighter, you kiss it one more time. “Can I make it up to you…?”

“I don’t know. Can you?”

“I’d like to,” You offer, another kiss - just higher on back of his hand. Closer towards his wrist. “Whatever you wanted.”

“Whatever I want is a tempting offer, Miss Bodyguard. What a talent for bargaining you have, indeed. Maybe you should try bidding a one of my auctions, just to see.”

“I’d bid too high off the bat. I’d go bankrupt,” You tease back, a sweet lilt to your voice that makes Rafayel’s eyes shimmer, fond of your wit. “Would you be willing to keep me if I gave it all up that way, I wonder?”

“Since it was for me, I could consider being merciful.”

You give him sincere but small smile and Rafayel seems to warm up seeing it. He can be coy, even playful about his affection but there’s something about him today that feels more shy then it does anything else.

“If I can ask for whatever I want,” Rafayel starts. “Maybe we could start with paying back your dues. After all you owe me your full undivided attention after your week of neglect.”

“That’s easy.” You say, charming. Rafayel makes a face at you that makes you want to laugh. “I wanted to give you that anyway. Is that all?”

“Are you telling me to be more demanding? You think that’s a wise choice?”

“If it makes you happy, I’ll play the fool.”

It’s corny, deliberately not something you’d say to anyone else or at any other time. Something that Rafayel might say to you in a different circumstance, so in a way you’ve simply beat him to the punch. He goes through several feelings, each passing over his expression. Amusement to disbelief to embarrassment even he can’t cover up too easily.

Great risk comes with great reward. Yours is a smiling Rafayel, boyish and amused. Color returned to him, a playful air of mischief about him.

“Well if you’re that desperate to make it up to me, then I guess I could try to forgive you. Gosh, you must be so desperate if you’re willing to act this way. You’ve totally fallen for me, haven’t you?”

Yes, you think. Too much of that at once and he’ll get shy again. You’ll have plenty of coaxing to do later so you keep the thought to yourself. You smile at him instead. “So, you’ve anymore demands for me, my liege?”

Rafayel hums before breaking out into a grin. “Hmm. For now, just one.” He offers you his hand. “Take me upstairs.”

Rafayel has a way about him, with you and only you, that makes you especially weak to his advances.

Whatever those advances are, however taxing on you they may be—there’s so rarely a time where you can tell him no. He likes having that much influence over you, no matter what his particular mood is. If he’s feeling the desire to keep you under his thumb or be at your mercy. Whats central to him in each instance is that he has the full breadth of your attention, your desire, and most importantly—your lacking will to resist.

You like it all because you like Rafayel. Like how it feels trying to hold onto him as he slips between your fingers.

If someone asked you what you like most, though - it’d be this.

Not quite at your mercy but expectant of your devotion. Crystalline eyes and long, straight lashes blinking up at you with unwitting demand, crowding around you mercilessly. A gaze that weakens you, disarms you, demands your propriety.

“What are you thinking about?”

His words come out more annoyed than he wants them to. Your eyes come back into focus to Rafayel on top of you, in your lap as you lean against the headboard. His weight settled like he’s something that fits there perfectly and he does. Your hand reaches for his lower back, eyes tracing down the damp skin. Button shirt opened just loose enough to catch glimpse of his collarbones, with only boxers underneath. Your hands run down his sides, smooth down his bare thighs - mesmerized by cream colored skin that begs for blemishes.

His expression bewitches you even when your mind had prepared you for it. You smile almost lazily, drawing him just a little closer to you until your noses touch. “Of you.”

He scoffs at you. “Is that so? Not that you have no reason to think about your perfect, darling lover—it’s just that it seems like he’s the last thing on your mind these days, so you know,-“

You kiss him. It’s only partially to shut him up. It’s mostly because him talking makes you look at the shape of his mouth, the curve of his lips—the way he’s pouting at you. It’s almost too much. You part after a minute, careful not to deepen the kiss.

He has something to say after the fact, dazed - hands on your shoulders trying to give himself the room to speak before you kiss him again.

But you don’t relent. You kiss him harder, a hand around the back of his neck - slipping your tongue against his lips in the way you like. He doesn’t concede. You’re not really expecting him to. He kisses back even harder like he’s trying to prove a point - teeth digging into your lower lip. A little too sharp for human, but perfect for him.

You pull away breathless. A hand still on the nape of his neck, sliding around enough to feel his pulse under your thumb. Thump, thump, thump—rabbit quick. You smile at him suggestively, proving him displeased.

“Don’t interrupt me. Trying to kiss me when I’m airing out my complaints is unprofessional and rude, I’ll have you know.”

“I’m sorry,” Your lips brush his jawbone. “It’s hard to think about talking when you’re half-naked on top of me.”

“You can be so vulgar. It’s shocking. You’re usually all serious and about work and then sometimes you look like a dog waiting to be told it can have the treat on it’s nose,” Rafayel says airily. Fake haughty, voice colored with coyness. You look up at him. “Does it really count as making it up to me if all you’re doing is lusting after me?”

You don’t deny him at face value. “You set the standard. You tell me. Do you feel like I’m still making it up to you or should I work a little harder?”

There’s something between you. A spark of electricity that fizzles and pops, tension deepening. Rafayel likes playing tug of war with you. Even though he’s expecting to be pampered - there’s nothing easy about letting him. But it works when you keep yourself even. Eager. Having your desire and lust for him out in the open gives him the power again and he likes that, even when it’s mostly pretend.

“Work harder. You have to earn your paycheck Miss Bodyguard.” He says. You laugh a little, sitting up a little straighter.

“Yes boss,” You reply. You lean forward, pulling his weight down as your hands slide underneath the loose, flowy button up. Your hands find his waist, holding his sides before gliding them up on the planes of his back. He’s got lean muscle, a swimmers build that feels tight to the touch.

You kiss him on the lips again, tongue sweeping against his lower lip. Rafayel playfully rejects it when you do. You pull away one hand to cup the back of his neck and force the kiss deeper, tongue pressing the closed seam of his lips until he yield and lets you. He melts at the gesture rather unwittingly, the softest little whimper sounding as you feel your tongues touch. It’s a wet, hot kiss. Mouth sticky with spit and saliva.

“I’m working hard so you shouldn’t be too hard on me,” You say playfully. Rafayel rolls his hips, makes a noise for you as he huffs. “I want to make you feel good.”

“You’re—“

You interrupt him again. Not with a kiss on his mouth this time, but a chaste one to the very corner of of it - trailing down the soft curve of his jawline. You make the pressure on his neck featherlight. Thin skin prone to being sensitive, he melts at the soft touch. Cranes his neck up subconsciously to give you access to it. In the spirit of pampering him, you bite at the skin with a genuine hunger. Marking each bruise with a kiss first, you sink your teeth into him without remorse. Incisors scraping the delicate area before you suck hard, broken capillaries throbbing underneath your tongue when you lick them after the fact.

Deep, deep shades of red and purple bloom all over the column of his throat. It doesn’t feel like enough to you still.

“My neck hurts from all your biting.” His voice comes out in wet pants, betraying the sentiment. You laugh warmly at his attempt to diverge.

“Does it? Should I be gentler, then?” You offer. After you feel like you’ve marked his neck enough, you press another feather-light kiss right where his adams apple sits. Another on his clavicle. When it gets to his collarbone - you don’t do anything more than brush your lips.

Rafayel whines. It’s a throaty sound that makes your whole body break out into a shiver. Such a pleasant sound on the ears that your mind pictures instantly what other sounds he might make if you just had your way with him. It uncovers a selfish part of you. You could flip him over on your bed and take him if you wanted. Fuck him until he sings as punishment maybe for being tempting like a siren drawing a lone sailor into deep waters.

You keep the thoughts to yourself, and keep your composure. You ask again instead. “Come on. Tell me. Do you want me to touch you more gently?”

He fusses in your lap. You grin. “What’s the point in being gentle now if you’re being so rough to begin with? The change would be just weird, you know.”

“I guess it would,” You let yourself lick the same places you just kissed. You bite then hard enough to leave a mark and Rafayel arches himself into it. “It’s better like this then, right? If I leave marks all over you, then maybe you’ll feel less lonely when I get busy again.”

“I should get to leave them on you too. Your memory isn’t as sharp as it used to be. A physical reminder might do you some good, yes.”

His voice is trembling, despite himself. You pull away to look up at him, and catch sight of a fragility you sometimes forget he’s capable of. Brows drawn into a furrow, lips pulled into a pout. Like a wound reopened inside of him that he’s so desperate to cauterize but can’t. You want to kiss the lines between his brows and get on your knees for it. A proof of your affection.

“I’m sorry for being careless,” You say, sincere. Rafayel looks ready to quiet you, concerned about the mood but you proceed anyhow. You lift his shirt up and hold it to his mouth, and he bites without your instruction. Bare chest exposed to him, you flit your gaze to his face. “I can’t do anything but try to beg your forgiveness. Still,”

You kiss his sternum, your hands on his waist. You fingers trail down his sides, hands sliding back up to chest. His nipples are hard, damp skin cool to the touch. Your warm him with your fingers, rolling over the sensitive tips. Rafayel makes a muffled noise, his cock twitching responsively.

“All I ever really think about is you,” You say. Rafayel gives you a long, unreadable look as you toy with his chest. “I’m not the type to half-ass things so my thoughts always revolve around you. Finishing work to come home to you. If you’ve eaten or if you locked yourself in the studio to paint all day. If we should go somewhere together on my day off.”

You lean forward and stick your tongue out, taking his nipples into your mouth. You roll the other one with your hand to increase the pleasure - content as you watch his face begin to flush. He watches you so closely, the tips of his ears burning a bright red. You suck hard, wetting them with saliva before you take them gently between your teeth and tugging.

“I’m not good at balancing work with play. I’m also not very friendly so you’re the only person I’ve ever spent so much time dating” You hum, nuzzling his skin. “I’m sure down the line it’ll be harder. But, if it helps, it’s true that my heads always filled with you.”

Your hands grip his waist, pushing his hips forward slightly as you suck and bite his chest again. A line of saliva connects you both as you pull away - teethmark indentations in their place.

“I want to make you feel good,” You maneuver Rafayel until he’s underneath you. His expression reads as overwhelmed but the faint blush blooming all over his skin and the hazy look in his eyes makes you confident he’s feeling more than just uncertainty. More like restlessness. A desire to be touched as he lays on his back with you looming over him. “And to touch you everywhere.”

You lean into him, trailing kisses down the his chest. You can feel his pulse quicken again as you touch him, spreading his legs as you put your thumb inside the waistband of his boxers.

Like this, he looks especially enchanting. The sleeves of his shirt pulled over his palms, button-up bunched up underneath his chin, and tight gray boxer briefs snug around his hips. Your bedroom, dimly lit, casting shadow on the sinewy muscle. His chest heaves with anticipation, stomach tense as your lips trace a path down from chest to navel. Excitement wracks through his body.

You put a hand on his stomach and look up at him. “I want to leave my mark on all of it. I want your body to remember I felt this deep inside of you and shiver. You’ll be able to think of me half as much as I think of you.”

Rafayel heaves, eyes glossed over. “Shit, you’re so unfair. It’s like you have two personalities or something. Are you tricking me? Is it actually you in there?”

You smile a little, pleased by his reply.

You follow your instinct, sliding his boxers off and tossing them somewhere. Rafayel is hard. So hard it looks like it hurts. The tip of his cock is ruddy, wet with pre-cum and swollen. His dick is long. Stands up with a straight curve. You breathe on it, making Rafayel flinch with anticipation. Your eyes flicker up to his face, terrible pout betraying his feigned moodiness..

“Don’t tease me,” He voices. Arousal strikes through you like hot iron at the whine of his voice. Almost pitiful.

“Not today,” You promise.

You making yourself comfortable between Rafayel’s legs, sticking your tongue out to taste him. He smells like soap and skin, but the scent is still so arousing. Your head is heavy with it, senses suffocating, hands stabilizing themselves by grabbing hold of his thighs. Rafayel looks near overwhelmed from even the slightest touch. It’s uncharacteristic for him to be so quiet. Almost meek. He must be aching for you more than he lets on.

You let his cock rest against your face, nuzzling it with your cheek. His cock responds sweetly to the lewd act. He lets out a sigh about, subtly trying to shimmy away from the touch. Unable to win against your grip, he sinks back into the bed and takes a long breath.

“Keep your eyes on me,”

In the business of spoiling him, you leave your teasing to a minimum. You gather spit in your mouth and spit it onto his cock with force - relishing the his breath hitches. How his eyes widen just slightly. You stroke his shaft with a tight grip, bringing your head down suck lightly below the shaft of his cock. His head falls back again, mouth open in a silent plea.

Rafayel keens for you when you work him with the warm, wet cavern of your mouth. You use your hands to fondle him while you shift your attention to his length. Your lips placing hot kisses up until they stop at the slit - tongue dipping into and tasting precum. Salty and warm. You wet your lips again and brush them against his cock - watching the way his expression shifts at the sensation, lightly sucking as you build yourself up having him in your mouth.

He pitches his hips with desperation that spurs you to give him more pleasure. You open wide to take his cock into your mouth. The weight of it feels good. Arousal clouds your mind as you hollows your cheeks and stick your tongue out over your lip. He’s throbbing so hard it makes you lightheaded.

A minute passes as you just hold him in your mouth, getting your jaw used to the sensation before you put in work in making him feel good. Like steel over your velvet, you use your tongue to lap at the sensitive skin while spitting and drooling. You’re making a mess. The room echoes with the filthy noise of you swallowing and choking on Rafayel’s cock.

“Oh, fuck.”

Your eyes flicker up to Rafayel, trying not to crack a smile at the state of disarray he’s in. His expression is so twisted from pleasure. All of his features reflective of it. His blush seems to creep down even further the longer you go. Your body gradually heats up, core throbbing as you take him down. Take him slowly into the narrow canal of your throat, eyes watering.

You ease yourself down the very base - nose pressed against his navel, tongue over your lip. Rafayel’s fingers curl into the sheets underneath you trying not to buck his hips.

“Get off of me, I’ll cum.” He says, almost panicked. “Your throat feels so good. Y-your mouth is so hot and it’s making me feel so good, can’t—I can’t. You gotta get off or—”

His words of protest fall on deaf ears as you spread his legs even further. Wanting to make him feel better, you part them.

You’re greeted by pretty pink hole - already wet for you. A stream of spit follows as you pull off him.

Rafayel heaves in relief.

“You got yourself ready,” You say, less than ask. Rafayel rolls his eyes.

“So what if I did?”

“I wanted to do it for you.” You reply, pretending to sulk. “Told you I wanted to spoil you.”

He blushes further. “Don’t you have any sensibility? You’re doing more than enough. Being excessive, even.”

“I don’t believe in being excessive when it comes to you,” You hum. Sitting up, you reach over the bedside table for a bottle of lube. You pour it in excess on your two fingers before coming back down between his legs. The bed creaks under your weight.

Lube drips from your two fingers onto Rafayel’s hole, thick as you push the excess with two fingers. Both go in so smoothly it makes you smirk. He’s soft inside. It’s so easy for you to put both fingers inside of him, even easier to find his prostate - swollen from arousal. He must’ve fucked himself open like this on three fingers given how easily yours follow.

“It’s so wet inside. You must’ve really wanted me to fuck you.”

“So what if I—aah—did?”

“Well, I wanted to take you apart nice and slow.” You say, slowly rubbing your fingers against his prostate, pleased by the little oh noises he makes when you. Cum spills from the tip immediately. He’s so sensitive. You divulge your plans to him as you stretch him. “First with my mouth once or twice. I was going to save fucking you for the end but—“ You push your fingers deeper. To the knuckle. His eyes shoot wide open before his voice breaks into a moan. “Since I’m making it up to you you, I was wondering if I should just cut the chase and make you cum on my cock over and over and over. Maybe you’d prefer that.”

Rafayel’s eyes go wide. You feel a sense of accomplishment knowing without him telling you. He clears his throat, strangely sheepish.

“It’s not like the other stuff feels bad or anything—“

You make eye contact with him, sitting up on your knees. Your other hand cups the back of his neck as you press a third finger inside - fucking it in slowly. Rafayel moans unabashedly as you do. His skin is feverish as you press your forehead to his, noses brushing. The wet sound of you stretching him open makes you dizzy, shared breaths between you filling worsening your appetite for him.

“It’s not what you want though, is it? Not today anyway.” You say, leaning close enough to kiss. You don’t follow through, your voice low on a whisper. “Tell me how you were picturing me fucking you in the shower. I’ll give you whatever you want today,”

Rafayel seems to let go of the last threads of fight in him as you approach like this. You’re in the thick of your wanting for him. Your body and your mind hunger to make it feel so good it looks like carnage to everyone else. To be pleasured so ruthlessly he can barely move

He’s rarely too shy but right now he’s in the depths of his desires. He moans sweetly like this. It’s not a sound you can coax out of him easily. It sounds so perfect still. Mouth fallen open, his hands finding purchase in the back of your shirt.

“Want you to fuck me deeply,” He pants, like it’s straining to even thinking about it. “N-not too fast, but not too slow either. Want you, hngh,” Shivering, he tries to speak coherently as your eyes meet - lips barely touching but almost. “To p-praise me and—“

You grin. “You want to pampered while I fuck this pretty little hole, right?”

You push your fingers in harder. He whimpers. It’s loud and broken and makes grip on you tighter. He just nods. “Please. Fuck, please - need it now. In me, please.”

It’s exactly the words you’re interested in hearing. You kiss him on the lips deeply. He sinks completely into the touch, malleable under your fingertips.

“Shh, I know.” You hum, soothingly. Rafayel whines from the loss of contact as you pull your hand away.“You earned it. Just a little more.”

You stand up again on your knee, stripping yourself of the remaining garments left on your body from the work day. You unhook your bra and take it off along with your tank top in one go, tossing it somewhere on the floor.

Next come your slacks, tight from the way you’ve tucked silicone cock up against your stomach to be ready to fuck. You put it on earlier while he bathed - tucking it in your pants to keep it out of the way. Seeing you unzip your work slacks and have a heavy silicone cock fall from them evokes a reaction in Rafayel that endears you endlessly. A bitten lip while a shiver wracks through him.

Deciding your pants will get in the way, you make quick work of wriggling out of them completely before returning between Rafayel’s legs. You spit in your hand and stroke yourself with it, wetting your cock before letting it rest against Rafayel’s own.

“How do you want it?” You ask.

“Like this,” He says, unmoving. He seems certain on that end but he’s hesitating. “But I want you to…”

He looks away. You try not to grin but fail.

“You were being so bold a second ago,”

He rolls his eyes. “Well a second ago someone was trying to rearrange my insides so I didn’t have to think very hard,”

“So, should I do it again, then? I think we’ll get better results that way.”

“You’re so noisy. I don’t pay you for this,” He pauses. “I want you to hug me while we… like be close to me.”

You pause before smiling gently. You’re so charmed by the innocence of it. It’s so unlike him. Being away from you must’ve bothered him more than he cared to admit. Softening, instantly - you lean forward and press your lips to his forehead.

“Sure. Anything else?”

“Ugh. Not for now. But it’s annoying. I should be running you into the ground by now but here you are,”

“Making good on my promise?,” You finish. Rafayel doesn’t refute you. You kiss his shoulder blade. “Anything you want today. I’m yours.”

“Say it again,”

“All yours.”

He wraps his arms around your neck and pulls you down. “…Hurry up and fuck me then.”

Complying with his wishes, you sit back on your knees as you line your cock up with Rafayel’s entrance and push. He gasps as you slide the fat head of your cock in, a wicked smile on your face as you watch his hole stretch out and around you. Three fingers is more than enough prep. It makes filling him so easy.

Still, the stretch - the feeling of being full is nothing like just fingers. You watch as Rafayel’s body adjusts to it. Inch by inch, you rock your hips forward gently until he’s swallowed your cock up half-way. He’s trembling as you lean forward. Waiting for you to bottom out before he pulls you forward for as much skin to skin as he can have. Your chest squishes against him.

When his hips roll for you to go deeper, you take it as a sign. With all of your strength, you hold onto his waist bury yourself inside of him in another single thrust. His nails dig into your shoulder, his voice next to your ear as you. Tightening his grip, he cries out at the sudden movement

You can feel him shake underneath you, cock clenching hard while you hold him.

“Fuuck,” He goes stone stiff underneath you before starting to tremor more violently. “Fuck, oh fuck.”

Realization dawns on you a few seconds later. “Did—did you cum just from putting it in?”

He opens his eyes and frowns at you.

“Shut up. I didn’t get to cum earlier.”

You laugh. “You’ll kill me being this cute. I don’t know what to do.”

“I could give you an idea if you’re going to just sit there,”

His impatience amuses you.

“Sorry. I’ve got you. Cum as much as you want.”

You anchor yourself, pulling out slowly and internally groaning at the resistance as you do. How his hole grips onto you so tight it feels nearly hard to move despite know how stretched he is. A phantom sensation fills your waist as you feel his stomach shift as you thrust.

Heeding earlier requests, you use your hips to set a pace to fuck Rafayel the way he wants. The ins and outs of his body come naturally to you now. Finding the right pace, the right motion, the right angle - all come easier to you than you even remember. On muscle memory, you hike Rafayel’s legs up and begin to fuck him deep. Not too fast, not too slow - but consistent in grinding against that sweet spot. Deliberately thrusting your hips up, you try to direct all the remaining focus into fucking him as good as you can.

You know you’ve hit the right places when his grip on you gets tighter. His legs locked around your back, Rafayel is a mess underneath you even when you’ve barely begun. Like he can’t stop cumming, his body helplessly wound as your hips clap his ass.

The moans that come out of him, broken and sweet. More angelic then pornographic but lewd enough to make you dizzy with the urge to pin him up and fuck him harder. Groaning when you fuck him just right. You can feel his cock against your stomach with how close your bodies are as you grind - twitching. Pre-cum leaking in long spurts and wetting your skin.

You coo at him feeling it start to be easier to fuck him.

“It’s just like a pussy, huh? You take me so good inside of you. It feels like you were made for it,” You press kisses wherever your lips can find the skin. On his face, his mouth, on his shoulders. You can barely make sense of your own filth, your mind moving on it’s own as your body chases its own arousal. Your clit is grinding against the base of your strap-on so well like this, you could easily chase the high and find your own orgasm with seconds. You’re too busy paying attention to make well on it. “I like when you act cute like this. Usually you’d put up a fight about it but you’re asking without fuss. It’s precious seeing you fall apart on my cock.”

He moans your name like an incantation, another dribble of cum spilling. He can’t stop cumming. Just shuddering beneath you, his face in your shoulder and panting like he can’t find the words.

“All mine, yeah? Everything, all of you. It’s all mine to tend to, so you can be as selfish as you want.” You hum, encouraged by the whimpering repetition of please in his voice. He’s being so pliant, so good. You can’t help yourself. “Take when you need. Cum when it feels good for you. I want you to feel good. Want to make you feel so good you can’t stand it. Think you can do that? Come on,”

Rafayel moans brokenly into your neck. “I’m g-gonna cum so hard, fuck—feels like I can’t stop, please don’t stop, fuck me,”

“Shh it’s okay. I wont stop until you tell me.” You tuck yourself against his neck, kissing it before biting his ear lobe. He gasps. “Don’t think about anything other than cumming for me.”

“Fuck,” His nails dig into your biceps, coiling you around as you get close. “Fuck me. P-please—I’m cumming, I’m cu -“

Rafayels whole body stiffens under the weight of your body. You fuck him steady, pinning him down as he cums. His cock pushes hard against your stomach, twitching helplessly as his cum spills in streams. His back curls up, gripping onto you tightly as he moans loud and unabashed, euphoria splintering through his muscles. You fuck him through it until he rides out his high - his body loosening up as soon as it passes.

The sound of cum unsticking from your skin as you part from Rafayel makes you grin. You pull back out of slowly and get on your knees. You use your hand to wipe the cum off of your stomach and smear it against Rafayel’s hole.

“You made a mess,” You say brightly. Rafayel pants, looking up at you. Before you can ask, his voice trembles. He weakly reaches for your hand.

“Let me make you finish,” He says, abrupt. You blink at him owlishly. “Please.”

“Isn’t this about you?”

He frowns, looking at you seriously.

“It is. And I’m telling you I want you sit on my face and cum on it. Please.”

You give him a look before breaking out into a laugh. You stand onto your knees and undo the buckles of your harness - shimmying out of them. “I can’t refuse you if you ask like that but I don’t think it’ll be long.”

“It’ll just be once for now,”

“For now?”

He nods matter-of-factly. “You still owe me after the crimes of neglect you’ve committed against me.”

“Right.”

“And I’ve decided I want to exercise my rights to eat pussy until sunrise.”

“I see,” You say bemused. “And this is… revenge I take it? And not perhaps, an act of goodwill towards me.”

“I have no reason to show you good will, do I?”

You break out into more laughter.

“Right. We’ll be even after today then, at least.”

“Hurry,” Rafayel says again, after settling it. Same puppy dog look in his eyes as before, back in instant. You can’t help but be charmed by how quickly he reverts back into desiring your attention.

Rafayel lays down as you take your strap-on off and crawl over towards him. Deciding you’re not done with him for the day - you stand on your knees just over his chest and spread your pussy apart for him to see. He’s not expecting it, evidenced by the way his eyes go wide at the sight.

“Even without cumming, making you feel good turned me on this much. Is that what you were hoping to know?”

Rafayel goes flush again. “I never said that.”

“So difficult,” You hum. “Come on. Can I sit?”

Rafayel barely masks his enthusiasm as he nods. You crawl over him further before carefully setting yourself above his face. You try to avoid letting the full weight rest on him, but Rafayels hands are on you in an instant. With the same desperate grip he had while you were fucking him, he pulls your thighs down until your pussy is in his mouth - tongue out and lapping up wetness instantly. You shiver at the desperate movement of his tongue.

It gets your body hot all over again. Your fingers thread through the purple strands of hair for anchor as you push yourself against his willing mouth like you’re fucking his face. Your own desires hadn’t crossed your mind until now, but now that you’re aware of it - that familiar restless lust returns to you tenfold You shiver as the familiar flames of arousal stoke back up inside of you.

Your gut honeyed, sticky lust making your limbs feel thick. You use your other hand to tweak your nipples as you rock your hips back and forth. Rafayel lies underneath you obediently, eagerly - his hands helping you move at the pace you want without complaint. He always manages to surprise you. His willingness to give to you making you feel weak in the knees.

Already so worked up, it takes you hardly any time to reach your climax. You feel it in your waist, body going slack as the knot inside of your stomach uncoils. You let out a short cry, hands tightening in Rafayel’s hair as you cum all over his face - swearing as you do. You feel Rafayel moan against you, reverberating through you as you ride out your high and finish.

You pull away from his sated, pulling back to see him wiping his chin before licking his fingers. The look in his eyes sends an amused sort of arousal through you.

“You look like you’re going to eat me.” You say. Rafayel nods.

“I mean… I’m certainly trying.”

You laugh tiredly, swiping your thumb against his cheek with a smile.

“After we clean up and have dinner,” You say. “I have some mandatory time off so I won’t be called in.”

“I won’t let you sleep,” He says, clingy again - face pressed against your thigh. You grin. His many moods make you so weak to him.

You bend down to kiss his forehead.

“I wasn’t planning on it.”

✮ a/n ; rafayel fans . let me know if this was okay im lacking confidence but i had writing him. i want to keep like a spoiled housecat maybe.

#rafayel x reader #rafayel smut #lads x reader #lads smut #writing tag

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cupcakeslushie · 2 months ago

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I’ve been debating on saying something because I have a lot of thoughts about this, but I just want to say a quick (maybe not so quick) thought…

“Comfort Character” is not a declaration of ownership. Just because you relate to a character deeply, and see yourself in them, does not mean you get to go around policing the stories that get told regarding them, or the how they’re depicted in said stories.

I wanna be clear. Im not saying you can’t pose genuine questions and have perfectly reasonable discussions about the intricacies of hard topics. In fact, fiction can even help make those discussions easier to digest by lowering the stakes, because there are not any actual stakes when none of it is real.

Unfortunately, I’ve been seeing the entire opposite. People taking stories that may make them “uncomfy”, and declaring that they’ve now decided they are taking it personally, to near obsessive levels. You are not the only one allowed to play with these characters. It is a huge sandbox, and these toys are mass produced enough for everyone to have their own doll to do with whatever they’d like.

I get you might see yourself in a character, but that doesn’t give you the right to go around sending death threats just because someone wrote, or drew your current blorbo in an unfavorable light. Prioritizing some cluster of lines and colors over the mental health and safety of actual real human beings, is worse than whatever fictional, moral “atrocity” that you think you’re championing against. You only end up sounding just like the people calling for book banning in schools.

You are not the character. You are not being hurt. The character is not even being hurt, because they do not in fact, exist to actually experience any of the pain creators are putting them through. And most importantly, you have no claim on how other people entertain themselves with said character. Because that is what these characters are. Entertainment. They can be used in good or bad stories. If you don’t like how a creator is using them. Move on. Don’t send death threats or attacks.

Block and filter your tags.

I have triggers, but that is my issue to control and maintain. It is appreciated when steps are taken by creators to help me avoid the things that trigger me, but I don’t wish death and pain on anyone who doesn’t view the world through the same lens as myself, and might not have considered my own personal feelings on the matter. My feelings of unease or anxiety from coming into contact with my own triggers, might be valid, but initiating an attack on a creator, because I took a personal offense to their story, is not. I do not outright assume that something was created with me and my tastes in mind.

Also, this is not aimed at any one person. This is a rampant issue that I have seen first hand, going back all the way to more than a year ago. I’ve seen it happen in multiple fandoms, but as I spend most of my time in the Rise fandom, that’s where I see the worst of it. I’ve received attacks, I know other creators have received attacks, and if this keeps up, creators will just stop wanting to share anything at all.

I also need to emphasize, I’m not mad. This is not a lashing out. This is just a frustrating and hurtful trend to constantly witness, when creators are putting their own heart, time, and energy into creating intriguing and complex works of all kinds in order to broaden the beauty of this fandom, and they’re getting anonymous messages to kill themselves.

Please think about the real life person behind the art and stories you are consuming, instead of prioritizing the fictional comfort of made up characters inside the story, that will in actuality, never have any opinions on what’s being done to them. Because they do not exist.

#rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise fandom #discourse #even tho I hope this is not taken as an attack on anyone #I’m not trying to add to any fire #I only wish to give a perspective

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endlessfuckup · 2 months ago

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not a phan-blog anymore but I felt like this needed to be recirculated again

just gotta say the speculation into dans gender is really sad and hurtful to see. it genuinely bothers me that people really saw everything this man (and trans people) had to go thru over the past decade and said

"lets try that again but even worse this time!"

i have personally gone thru this kind of invasive speculation; being harassed into publicly answering questions i didn't even get a chance to ask myself.

every outfit. how my hair looked. the way i sit. how i carried myself. what my interests were. my sexuality. what position i prefer in bed. everything. everything was used to prove or dispute any speculation about me.

it was extremely traumatic, painful and scary

i wound up being forcibly outed and put into serious danger over stuff like this.

Please Stop

people can cross dress or be androgynous and still be cis/binary. and that is okay.

#read prev tags #dont dm me to argue #im really not interested in engaging with 95% of the phandom #hurts to see this shit over and over again #not entirely related to current discourse but still important #i made this post almost a year ago and nothing has changed 🙃#not only has it not changed #its gotten worse #*sighs dramatically*#im not even like angry or upset about it anymore #its just fucking annoying and almost laughable #and i mean that about all of the different discourse thats been happening over the past 4-5 months #can we like talk about their content and their world fucking tour instead of speculating about their personal lives #beyond what they share with us #like they share so much (almost too much) about themselves and each other and people still want more #why?#being more obsessed with the lives of two people you haven't ever met than you are with your own is not healthy please realize that #and they are never going to 100% line up with your personal views and beliefs #they are never going to be perfect #they are never going to be able to see every single fan in every part of the world #some places are not safe for lgbt+ and others require heavy censorship #and they could be banned from those countries or face jail time for violating the guidelines that they are given in order to enter/perform #i could go on and on about this but i really don't feel like dealing with rude anons in my dms #my opinion on these things will not change #phan #dan and phil #dip and pip #dan howell #phil lester #phandom

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yelenasbraid · 2 months ago

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treat you better — joe burrow

summary — Work is rough. Watching your boyfriend beat himself up over loss after loss is rough. It doesn’t take much for you to break.

warnings — fem!reader, angst, fluff, language, implied/cut-off smut

requested by — anon <3 (IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK ME SO LONG! i didn’t forget about you 🫶🏼)

tags — @wickedfun9 @joeyfranchise @starsinthesky5 @willowsnook @softburrow @joeburrowshaircurl @ebsmind @blairsworld22 @xxvampxhoonxx (comment/send an ask if you want to be added!)

ENDLESS MEETINGS. That’s what work felt like for the past several weeks. Meetings to fix a problem that wasn’t going to get fixed because it was a problem at the head. Meetings to address behaviors that only one person was doing. Meetings that should have been an email. Aside from the meetings, you’re having to deal with men who doubt your abilities as a woman to do your job, which you were hired for. The comments, the stares, everything that these men did to you worked you over. You’ve told them, handed their ass to them, but nothing stopped until your boss got a handle on it.

Then came the projects. The endless hours critiquing and correcting every bit of information that came your way. The hours you spent deconstructing an idea in order for your boss to present it in its entirety.

Today wasn’t much better. You made a mistake and you paid for it, the printers weren’t working, and you had zero down time. You barely had time to check your phone and answer a text from Joe before someone came in and asked your opinion on something. When the end of the day came, you let out a breath. You practically ran to your car, throwing yourself in and locking the doors. No one was going to get any last assignment out of you. No one was going to make one more comment about how the Bengals couldn’t seem to grab a win.

You drove home in silence. Your mind wandered to the conversations you had during the day, the things you did, and the people you spoke to. You were tired of hearing about the losses, the way that “Joe just can’t seem to get a win under his belt” and “it’s like he doesn’t know how to play football.” You wrung the steering wheel, your mind wandering further down a road you knew you shouldn’t be on.

Flashback

“Just leave me alone, y/n!” Joe’s never raised his voice at you. Never in the 3 years you’ve been dating. The loss to the Ravens, the second time, was hitting him harder than you anticipated. Of course, you knew that the losses, how they piled up, they were gnawing at him. They were eating him raw. You could see it in his eyes, in the way his hands shook. He was crumbling under the pressure but didn’t want to admit it.

“I just want you to be ok, Joe. That’s all.” You argued, your tone pleading. He stepped away from you, scoffs puffing from his lips.

“I don’t need you to coddle me. I’m a grown adult, now leave me alone,” He wasn’t asking. The demanding tone he had wasn’t of enjoyment either. You stared at him, your expression as hard as his was. Your nose twitched as you watched him retreat up the stairs to your shared bedroom.

It wouldn’t be shared that night.

End of flashback

Ever since that night, Joe’s been trying to make it up to you. He’s been moody, but he’s not stupid. He’s realized that he made a mistake, that he used his words to tear down instead of lift you up. You could see he was trying, but it didn’t take away the stress of your job or the stress of making sure Joe was ok.

You pulled into the garage, pressing the garage opener in your car to shut the door behind you. You stepped out, your eyes heavy. You didn’t spot Joe’s car, so he must not be home yet. It wasn’t always that you beat Joe home, but the days you did, you made sure that he came home to a warm meal. It was the least you could do, plus, cooking was therapy.

You walked into your home, the coolness of the air wafting over your hot skin. You walked up the stairs and into yours and Joe’s shared bedroom. You changed out of your work clothes and put something comfortable on. Your head was foggy, your eyes out of focus as you slipped one of Joe’s hoodies over your head. You grabbed your phone, walking back downstairs to start dinner.

Dinner tonight would be something easy, something you both liked. You grabbed your ingredients, the exhaustion from the day catching up to you. You opened a cabinet for spices, and ran into the cabinet when you forgot to close it. You opened the fridge to grab some cheese, and you smacked your head off of it trying to close it. You dropped one of the spices and it spilled all over the floor. You ran your hands through your hair as you tried to compose yourself, hot tears pooling in your eyes.

“It’s ok, just get it in the oven,” You sniffled, cleaning up the spilled spices and finishing preparing the meal. The rest of it went smoothly, for the most part. The door opened and shut, signaling that Joe was home. You looked up and smiled softly at him.

“What’s all this?” He asked with a soft smile, dropping his bag and walking further into your home.

“Dinner,” You answered. He could tell something was off. Your eyes were heavy, your shoulders slumped, and your hair was in messy strands around your face. You were exhausted.

“You didn’t have to,” He walked up to you, his expression soft and inviting. He knew he had been a dick, even if you’d tell him it was warranted. He hoped this wasn’t an attempt to ‘get back into his good graces.’ You never had to. It was often the opposite, that he would have to get back into your good graces.

As he walked over to you, you pulled out the glass pan that you were going to put the chicken in. Your hands slipped as you stood up, the pan falling from your fingers and crashing down on the floor. This wasn’t just any pan, this was a pan that Joe’s mom, Robin, bought you. It wasn’t cheap. Your hands covered your face as embarrassment and disappointment settled into your chest. Hot tears stung your eyes, tears uncontrollably rolling down your cheeks. You inhaled shakily as you went to grab a broom.

“No no, hold on, don’t move,” Joe’s hands went out to stop you from moving, his eyes scanning the floor for glass. He didn’t want you to step on any and cut your foot. Your hands covered your mouth, tears welling up in your eyes as Joe grabbed the broom. He swept the broken pieces away, kneeling down to grab the smaller, almost invisible pieces that were around your feet.

“I’m so sorry, I don’t know what’s gotten into me. I know that was expensive and I should have been more careful-”

“Y/n, babe, it’s just a glass pan,” Joe tried to console you, watching how increasingly upset you got. You looked like a little girl, the way your arms were in front of you as if to protect you. You watched him, hot tears rolling down your raw cheeks. It was just a pan, why were you reacting this way?

“What am I supposed to put the chicken in now?” You wiped your tears, bending down to try and find another pan. Joe stepped beside you, placing his hands on your hips and guiding you away from the cabinet.

“Let me help you,”

“No, I was supposed to make this nice dinner for you when you got home. I was supposed to make sure that even if you had a bad practice, you could have something good when you got home,” You reasoned, your tone sharper. Your eyes were still red with tears, but you were serious. Joe could see that. Joe could see that you wanted to do something nice for him, and you felt like you failed. He could see that you felt like you were a problem, and Joe’s heart twisted.

“What happened at work?” Joe hummed, cupping your cheeks with his hands. He knew that the past couple of weeks have been rough, but he didn’t know just how rough they’d been for you. You sniffled, backing away until your hips met the counter.

“All of these projects,” You started, “the comments too, they’re getting to me,”

“What comments?” Joe asked, interest piqued. This was the first time he’s heard of such comments.

“Just…everything, really.” You hugged yourself. You weren’t sure if you wanted to tell him that part of those comments were about the losses the Bengals have recently suffered.

“Lay it out for me,” He encouraged you, settling his hips against the counter opposite of you. He watched you, carefully examining how you shielded yourself. Why? What happened? Who hurt you?

“Some guys just keep pestering me, asking if I really know what I’m doing. They keep talking to me like I’m 5, even if I’ve got a degree in what I’m doing. They keep lying to me to see if I catch on,” You explained, rubbing your temples. There was more, there was always more. Joe listened on, his face tight as his arms crossed over his chest. You’ve had this problem before, and the fact it kept popping up infuriated him.

“I’m sorry, babe,” He hummed softly, letting his expression fall, “You’ve gone through hoops to get that taken care of,” He affirmed. He knew you did. He knew you’d spoken to them, your boss had spoken to them, and it was always the same guys. There was something else, he could see it on your face.

“I have! I just…I’m just happy to be home,”

“They said something else, didn’t they?” He asked you, rather pointedly. You looked at him, and you remembered the nights where his eyes were cold, frozen over with the pain of the loss. He was still recovering from the previous one.

“Joe,”

“What else did they say?” He encouraged, keeping his tone level. He stayed where he was, encouraging you like you did him. Spilling your guts wasn’t the easiest thing to do. You bit your lip, running a hand through your hair. You inhaled deeply before exhaling.

“They kept mentioning the games, specifically the losses,” You started, watching Joe freeze, “Of course I said something, nearly got fired for it, but they know better,” You digressed. Silence hung between you, new feelings stirred up in the both of you. Joe was disappointed, mainly in himself, for not winning more. He was angry that those losses were being used against you, like you could do something about it. You watched him, heart pounding as you analyzed his features.

“I’m sorry, baby,” You whispered, and Joe quickly shook his head, walking up to you.

“Look at me,” Joe hummed, softly cupping your cheeks in his hands. Your cheeks were soft, but they were damp from the flow of tears, “You have nothing to apologize for. You're not the one of us that plays football; they shouldn’t be having issues with you. Don’t ever apologize, I’m sorry this season’s been hard,” He reassured you.

You felt more tears fall, your chest heaving with the attempt to hold back your sobs. You nodded, resting your forehead against his chest. He cupped the back of your head and kissed your hair, letting his lips linger there. He needed to do better, he needed to be better. He needed to stop taking out the losses on you. You were his world, and he felt like he was polluting it.

You pulled away, Joe’s thumbs wiping your tears away and the hair from your eyes.

“The chicken still needs to be cooked, though,” You informed him. Joe laughed, nodding his head. He grabbed a different pan, placing it on the island. He sprayed the pan, then placed the chicken in the pan.

“I hate raw chicken,” He shivered, making you laugh. You grabbed the pan from him and slid in the oven, which had already been preheated. Joe wrapped you in his arms again, giving you the slightest of squeezes.

“I’m sorry that work has been hard,” He hummed, “You don’t deserve that, you never do,” He sighed. Guilt started to eat away at his insides, telling him that he should have picked up on the signs earlier, that he should have said something earlier.

“It’s not your fault, Joey,” You muttered into his chest, pressing your lips to the skin that peaked right out of the collar of his shirt.

“I know, I still feel guilty,” He pulled away, gazing deeply into your eyes, “I should have paid more attention,” he admitted softly. You leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

“Hun, you being here helps. Bad days at work shouldn’t completely dictate our moods,” You chuckled, which he laughed along as well.

“I know, and I’ll be better at not letting it ruin my day,” He agreed with his award-winning smile. He leaned down and kissed you again, a deeper hunger to his kiss. You felt it, and you felt your stomach churn with excitement. You smile as he backed your hips into the island, his hands cupping your neck. He pulled away, catching his breath.

“What was that for?” You asked, watching as a new and darker emotion swam in his eyes.

“Repaying you for dinner, and maybe all the shitty things I’ve said,” He hummed as he attached his lips to your neck, immediately making your eyes roll back. Your fingers found his hair, giving it a small tug as his teeth nipped and tugged at your skin. With every building emotion, the fire in your gut, you forgot about the chicken. Then again, that wasn’t what you were concerned with. Your body begged for Joe, and that’s exactly what you were going to get.

#joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow imagine #nfl imagine

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biteyoubiteme · 2 months ago

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cat got your tongue?

yeonjun x fem!reader

synopsis: you and yeonjun are both models.

warnings: 🔞!!! spit kink if you squint, no protection, creampie, dom!yeonjun, manhandling, bondage (uses his tie on readers wrists), fingering, oral (f!rec),mentions of cum eating prob forgot some sorry

wc: 2.7k me when I lie and say these will all be 1-2k

an: I do not think this is my best work I think I just struggle with dom!member and I apologize lol this wasnt really requested but was taken as such ily @apeachty this was sent before the event post but on the same day so im adding it to the tag anyways lol this is not proof read forgive me sweet angels ill fall on my sword for you.

[m.list] [1kevent m.list]

You would have to spend over a month traveling together. Over a month of back and forth, car rides, flights, hotel rooms, runways, and photo shoots all while trying to deny dating rumors. The contract was easy enough, but the money earned was less impressive than the exposer. To be the face of a company for an entire season, tied to one of the biggest names in modeling history, not only the fashion house but the model himself who set trends and made people famous for one little interaction. It was a brand deal people dreamed of.

The pen cleared the signature box faster than you ever thought you could sign your name. But then the nerves set in. It wasn't over doing your job, modeling, although hard, was now second nature. You worked well with almost every photographer you came across, following instructions without a fret, even when it came to runway you knew your walk was one companies begged to have on their sets.

But it was him that left you questioning your abilities. He had been the only clause in the contract that made you second guess yourself. Yeonjun was well known not only in the modeling community itself but globally. His face was splashed across countless brands, ads, and billboards. You couldn't go a day without seeing him at least once on your timeline. Even at the grocery store, in line at the checkout, he looked back at you with his perfect pouty lips from the front of a magazine you could only dream of being on the cover of as often as he was.

“You were specifically asked for,” your agent reminded you after you brought up the status difference. It wasn't as if you were not known, companies wanted you well enough that you wouldn't need the check from this single one month booking. It was the caliber at which he was held. “They want you and I wouldn't be the one to turn them away when this much press will be on you. Imagine the number of people calling to get one shoot in with you, he brings eyes,”

It wasn't until your first photoshoot that you realized that he would be more of a pain in your ass than an inspiration. He was never mean, you would have to give him that. But it was his overwhelming kindness mixed with the teasing tone he always used on you that somehow pushed your buttons just right. It didn't help that the first time that you walked into the studio you were so shy, little smiles shared with your hands folded in front of you trying to wring out your anxiety. Yeonjun wasn't even on set yet, having shown up a few minutes later with his arms full of coffee, passing them out to each staff member, knowing them all by name. “It's nice to meet you finally. I didn't know what you would like but this is what I picked out for the little mouse,”

“Little mouse?” it was the first thing you said to him, your head tilted just enough for him to take in the question and know the slip up of a nickname was going to stick especially when you couldn't get through the photoshoot without an apology. Shoulders stiff with his eyes on you, your nerves making you angry instead of anxious and it all had to do with the little grin set at the edge of yeonjun mouth. “I'll just step out,” and you hated how improved your film was from his absence, your heart calming down its rapt beading.

Of course you got over it eventually, or at least the stiffness. You couldn't afford to be stiff when standing next to yeonjun who was naturally relaxed about everything. He would slink to his spot on set, lay his lazy gaze in your direction, and get all of his shots in the minimal amount of frames as if he was born to be in front of the camera. It was annoying.

The two of you would be set up next to each other in hair and makeup, your bottom lip is finely brushed with the end of a glosses wand when he would lean on the back of your chair. His hands were always just hovering over your shoulders, never quite touching but enough to feel the heat from his palms, his head leaning next to yours looking back at you in the mirror, “You guys did such a good job, don't we just look like the perfect pair?” he would quirk an eyebrow at you, the two of you staring each other down while the staff agreed, but he was always waiting for your answer, “don't we little mouse?”

“If you think so,” your response always made him chuckle as if you didn't see the way the media was talking about your contract together, as if you didn't feel the chemistry between the two of you. People were still talking about your first runway together, the closing of the show for one of the best collections put on display that week.

The lead up was so chaotic, with dressing rooms stacked full of models and assistants, the floor a mess of people undressing and trying to make their quick changes as fast as they could before their names were called. Even yeonjun could feel the pressure in the room, the two of you in your designated corner stripping down back to back.

The crowded space made everyone bump into each other. For the smallest second you were caught by the sight of him taking his shirt off, pulling it at the back of his collar showing the way his jeans hung so low on his hips that his happy trail was on display. You had turned, taking off your shirt, shoulder knocked by someone coming to do your hair, it made you stumble back into yeonjun, his hand right at the small of your back holding you upright as you fumbled with the zipper on your pants. “Careful,” he muttered, your heart in your ears as you kicked your shoes away from your space.

The two of you were used to seeing each other in different versions of undress after all the photoshoots shared together. Comfortable enough now to be somewhat friends after all the car rides, the few interviews, and hours spent on a set together. It's what you accounted for as your key element to having such a good walk together on the runway. Every step matched, the energy vibrating off the two of you as if you had been a duo your whole life instead of just having been paired together less than a month ago.

Even at the afterparty people swarmed you two, asking about your relationship as if they could sense the livewire of that conversation hanging around your heads. It was the first time you had ever seen him flustered enough to stutter over an answer. “I um- you never know,”

The paparazzi loved the two of you, the crowd outside any event was packed full of them, their cameras following you around the city. The two of you always shared a car to your hotels, yeonjuns hand warm in yours leading you through the flash of every blinding light while you tried to shield your eyes. He would pull you in front of him when you finally reached the waiting car door, hand on your back gilding you in before climbing in after.

Even shutting the door behind the two of you only muffled the sounds of their questions to a faint murmur. It isn't until the car pulls away from the venue that yeonjun speaks up.

“You did well tonight, you looked…”

“Good, I hope,”

“You always look good, better than good, i was trying to come up with a different adjective,” it wasn't the first time he's complimented you, but it never stopped you from logging it away to giggle over it in private. “Sometimes I don't know what to say to you,”

You chuckle, “I never took you as shy,”

Strands of his hair hang in his eyes, head tilted just enough to catch what little light makes it in from the tinted windows, “no, not shy, just cautious,”

“What, afraid you'll break me? Hurt my feelings? Or maybe my ego will get too big,”

He lets out a soft breathy laugh, the sound taking up the space in the backseat. You loved the way his chuckles went down your spine, like a caress of his fingers on the skin you wished he touched. “You’d let me get close enough to break you?”

“I don't think you could,” it's a light jab and yet it sets everything off kelter. The car ride charged with an energy you couldn't get back into its box. Now opened, the two of you looked back at each other as if you hadn't felt this pot simmering over.

His eyes flickered down to your mouth, his tongue running over his bottom lip before he shrugged, “Okay,” he loved that you wanted to play this game with him, as if you hadn't always been slowly picking away at the short wall between you two. It was inevitable that you would end up pressed up against the mirrored walls in the elevator up to your hotel floor.

He wasn't even going to do anything, he was going to let you go to your room while he mulled over your conversation, picturing exactly what he wanted to do to you. But then you leaned back against those mirrors, your body reflected around him as the doors slid closed behind him. Your eyes traced the line of him, lashes hooded just enough for you to look through, like a siren on the rocks, beckoning him closer. You didn't stop him when he cupped your jaw, thumb running over your bottom lip, nose dipping to yours. Even when he gave you enough time to pull away, lips ghosting over yours when he asked, “You'll be good for me, won't you?”

Your answer is hummed right into his mouth when he kisses you, devouring you, pushing you into the corner giving you nowhere to go. His body is hot against yours, cageing you in as he kisses down your jaw, sloppy wet spots cooling in the air as he nips at your neck. “God, imagine them having to cover up all the marks I leave on you during tomorrow's shoot,” his hand is heavy on your hip, dragging down you cup your cunt over your jeans, “Everyone is going to know I fucking ruined this pussy for anyone but me,”

Your whimper is eaten by the sound of the doors opening behind him, your tight grip on his shirt not loosening when he drags you out after him. He pushes you to his bed when you get past the threshold of his door. His slow walk to the nightstand to flick on the light gives you enough time to think about exactly what's happening.

He loosens his tie, veiny hands curled around the fabric as he nods his chin in your direction, “Take your clothes off,” it was only a few hours ago when he saw you topless, and yet your fingers shake when you reach for your hem. “Don't be shy now little mouse, always all talk and no play,”

The heat on your cheeks spreads to your ears at the nickname. Yeonjun takes to matching your state of undress by tossing his tie next to you before unbuttoning his shirt, the outline of him in his pants is mouthwatering. He watches the way you try to speak, hands twisting in the duvet not realizing he's come up so close to you before he's hooked his hand on your chin, tilting your head up before slipping his thumb into your mouth and pressing down on your tongue. He swirls the digit around, grinning at how willing you are to follow his command even without words, “one day ill fuck this pretty mouth, but for now, I need you on your hands and knees for me,” he shoves your face away, putting his slick finger in his mouth to taste you.

Turning around and having him at your back is both chilling and exhilarating, not knowing when he's going to touch you until his hands are sliding up your back, unhooking your bra, and letting it fall off of you. He lets his hand press between your shoulder blades, pushing down hard enough for your arms to give way beneath you, the side of your face pressed into the sheets. “Every photoshoot I kept thinking about what it would be like to finally get you into my bed, I kept thinking about how I would finally fuck you, how exactly I could use your body,”

His hands slide down your arms, tugging them behind you until you whimper, the silky material of his tie sliding along your fingers as he wraps up your wrists to keep you in place. “And every time I just came right back to thinking about putting you just like this, fucking you dumb; using you like my perfect little toy,”

With one hand holding your tied wrists his other slips down to tease you over your soaked panties, fingers following the lines of your cunt like he was made to map you out by touch. You can't even form words and he hasn't done anything, your pathetic little whimpers pushing him further and further. “So quiet now, I wonder if it's because someone's scared I'll break her?”

“Please,” it's so soft you don't think he's even heard you, but he's aching for every little sound.

“Please what? What do you want me to do?” he pushes your panties aside, grinning at how wet you've gotten over so little. Your hips push back into his hand, his fingers slipping into you just enough to prep you for the stretch of taking him.

“Fuck me, break me, anything-” he's so quick to press his cock into you that you're gasping losing all thoughts. His fingers had done little to let you grasp the sheer size of him, even all your slick couldn't help that pleasure mixed with pain as his tip kissed your cervix.

He doesn't even hold off from moving, not once he's finally felt your warm gummy walls sucking him, so perfect he doesn't know how he will ever stop from coming back to you. He keeps one hand on your hip, fingers digging into your flesh, the other wrapped around the slack of his tie, tugging your arms and using them as leverage to keep his harsh pace as he fucks into your greedy cunt.

You feel so full, so completely stuffed that you're a mess of incoherent moans mixing with the slapping sounds of your connecting bodies. Yeonjun is mesmerized by the way your ass ripples with each slap of his hips; mesmerized by the way his cock is disappearing in and out of you. “So fucking perfect,” he's grunting, “I'm going to fill up and then eat my little mouse out until she screams, kiss your pussy better after taking me so well, does that sound good?”

“Yes, god yes!” Your voice is muffled by the way you are pressed into the mattress, arms slightly numb as he pummels himself into you, thrusts getting sloppier with the build up of his orgasm. He tells himself that he will pull out but then he's cumming, body shuddering as you clench around him, his rumbling moans following the steady pulse of his leaking cock.

When he pulls out of you he watches the way the dribbling cream coats your puffy lips. Untying your hands he lets you roll onto your back, slotting himself between your legs and attaching his mouth to your swollen clit. Your fingers still gaining feeling fall to his hair, pulling on the strands and he brings your orgasm back to the surface. The obscene sounds coming from his fingers trying to match his previous pace makes him chuckle, the feeling of his laugh vibrating against your clit. It takes little work for you to tumble into your orgasm when he curls his fingers just right, your body following every command he lays down.

His hand is covered in your combined cum when he's done with you, the stickiness capturing both of your attention before he shoves them into your waiting mouth.

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