#time got away from me and i ended up doing very little art | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

starsforxavi · 1 month ago

Text

the only exception

·······•✦ description: Being called over in the middle of the night by your friend Rafayel wasn't an unusual occurrence. It was unusual, however, when he asked you to be his model for a painting, letting you use his wardrobe to dress up for him, especially considering he never painted people. He insisted, though, and who were you to say no to his pleading gaze? But something was off about him; he wasn't acting like himself...

·······•✦ pairing: virgin!rafayel x afab!reader ·······•✦ word count: 9.6k ·······•✦ genre: smut, porn with plot, fluff ·······•✦ general tags: Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Smut, Fluff and Smut, Virgin!Rafayel, Light Angst, It's very subtle angst, Slight Lore and Spoilers for Rafayel's story, Yearning, Masturbation, Scent Kink, Body Worship, big dick, First Time, Porn with Feelings, Porn With Plot, Rafayel calls you 'princess', Soft sex, Nostalgia, stealing clothes, getting caught, Creampie, Vaginal Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Cockwarming, Reader-Insert, Inexperienced Rafayel, Loss of Virginity

·······•✦ posted on: ao3

The loud doorbell rang through the night sky, echoing through the tall trees and across the city skyline. The drive up to Rafayel’s house was quiet and secluded; you couldn’t help but wonder how lonely it got. So far away from the rest of the city, sitting right on the water and overlooking the vast ocean. At times, he assured you that he liked the privacy, and his connection to the water and nature generally spurred his artistic inspirations. Other times, he had a far-off look in his eye, saying that while it did get lonely, he felt better when you came to visit him.

Waking up to your phone ringing and Rafayel’s voice insisting that he needed his bodyguard over to his house immediately wasn’t what you expected of a Friday night. Still, it was Rafayel, and you couldn’t really say no. His insistent and whiny voice made your heart clench, your buried feelings for him doing nothing but forcing you to oblige to his asks.

It was a moment of you standing outside in the cold, pajama pants and baggy shirt doing little to help shield you from the biting wind. After the second ring of the doorbell, you heard footsteps through his house, and eventually, the door opened to reveal a disheveled Rafayel. Your breath stopped momentarily as you took in his messy hair and flushed cheeks. In one hand, he held a paintbrush covered in multiple mixes of colors. The other hand grabbed your wrist, gently ushering you inside.

“Wow, that was quick, miss bodyguard.” His voice came out in a huff, and Rafayel had to stop himself from staring at your lips. It happened every time you were near him, his eyes wandering across your body but constantly fixating on your lips…. Or your neck… Or your hands… He snapped out of it, sending a smirk your way as he started walking back towards the large living room. “I didn’t know you missed me that much.”

“Oh please,” You rolled your eyes, laughter echoing through the room. “Wasn’t it you who texted me four times asking me to come over and ‘protect you from the wind’?”

The only pieces of furniture were a small white couch and a coffee table. One of the walls was made of windows and clear glass leading to the vast ocean at the end of the small strip of sand. Trees swayed as the wind whipped outside, light rain staining the windows. Darkness stretched out over the ocean, the only light being from the moon. It streaked across the water, piercing deep and greeting the ecosystems that thrived.

“It’s getting crazy out there!” Rafayel’s cheeks blushed pink, his arms crossing. He gestured outside, trying to come up with a better excuse. “Plus, I just wanted you to keep me company as I paint.”

As you looked around, you took notice of the easel and canvas. Paint splashed across the corners, colors blending into beautiful sunrises and sunsets. Fireworks of golden yellow and dark blue contrasted and made a painting that caused your heart to race. It wasn’t often that art would elicit such a reaction from you, but Rafayel’s art always seemed to do something to you. It stole the breath from your lungs and made your heart pause in astonishment.

“That’s beautiful, Raf.” As you stared at the canvas, you didn’t notice how Rafayel’s ears turned bright red. His gaze fixated on you as you walked forward. Masterfully placed blank spaces broke up the colors, and you weren’t sure why, but a sense of nostalgia washed over you.

“Thanks, it’s supposed to be a little alcove in the middle of the ocean, secluded from everyone.” When he explains, you can almost feel yourself sitting on the small patch of sand in the middle of nowhere. The sunset in the distance of the painting felt so real as if you’d reached your hand out for it before.

“It looks so realistic.” You wanted to reach out and touch it, the sand falling between your fingertips like sand in an hourglass. The moon's light came through the windows, casting a bright light on the art. Looking back at Rafayel, you smiled at him, your heart beating faster when you noticed he was already looking at you. “No wonder you’re the world's most famous artist.”

A light blush covered his cheeks as he listened to your praise. He was used to people waxing poetic about his art, calling it ‘timeless’ and ‘alive.’ Nothing was like hearing the words from your lips, though. His eyebrows raised as he walked forward, setting his paintbrush down on the color palette.

“That’s high praise coming from you, miss bodyguard.” As he stepped closer, your eyes drifted to the ocean. Somewhere in the distance, it felt like that little alcove was waiting. It beckoned you to it like a long-lost treasure. You rolled your eyes gently, shaking your head.

He always seemed to favor you over others under the guise of needing his bodyguard, but no matter how often he called you, you would always come to his aid. Every time you saw him, it seemed your heart called out to him. It was a strange feeling, only made more complicated by your growing crush on the painter.

“I don’t know why my words are more special than everyone else's that compliment your art.” Rafayel felt his stomach clench. He remembered the times spent in that alcove, the past rushing back to him in waves when he finished one of his paintings.

Rafayel shrugged, putting his hands on his hips. “You’re always one of the first to see my finished and unfinished art.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “I wouldn’t let just anyone see my art before I’m ready.”

You’re special to me . His thoughts passed through his head as he took in your expression. Shadows stretched across the walls from his lamp, your body outlined against his large mural wall. It was like you were a part of the scene, and Rafayel had to snap himself out of his stupor.

“I’m honored.” You laughed, your voice spreading through the room. “But it looks like you’re finished with this one. Were you just going to paint the night away?”

Sitting down on his stool, you crossed your arms over your chest, a cold breeze coming from one of the open windows. There was a silence in the air that was only interrupted by the soft knock of branches on the wall and the crashing of the waves on the beach. Your eyes met, his body swaying as he followed the ebb and flow of the ocean.

“I thought about it.” He backed up just a step, head tilting as he took your position on his stool. You looked stunning , and although he usually didn’t paint people, you were an exception. You were the only exception. “But seeing you right now, I want you to be my model.”

You were slightly taken aback by the suggestion, shying away from his eyes as he trailed them down your body. He never did that, never looked at you like you were an ancient statue that was worshipped for millennia. At least you never caught him looking at you like that.

“I don’t think I’m a very good model. I can barely sit still.” You didn’t think about the fact that Rafayel’s eyes would be fixated on you, every inch of you, as he painted. The salty air wafted in from the ocean, and you shivered at the cold once more.

“I think you’ll be a perfect model.” He turned to look at his room, an idea washing over him. “In fact, I think you should dress up.” Rafayel began walking towards his room, beckoning you to follow him.

Once you stepped inside, you took in just how spacious his room was. One of the walls was all windows, his bed in the middle of the room facing the ocean. Bookcases and supplies littered the other walls, and a door sat in the corner. You had been in Rafayel’s room before, but with the moon casting pure light over almost everything, it was like you were in another world.

Rafayel clearing his throat brought you back to reality, and you looked around, finding him standing in front of the door. He wore a mischievous smirk as he turned the handle, revealing rows and rows of clothes. In a grandeur swing of his arms, he looked back at you.

“You have free reign.” He announced, watching you walk up and peer in. The way your jaw slightly dropped as you took in all the beautiful outfits. Some were made for women, some for men, and others to fit anybody. “Pick whatever you want and become my model, please.” The last syllable drew slowly from his lips, his eyes begging you to do this for him.

Just like most things, you were too caught up in his eyes, finding yourself nodding in reluctance. “Okay, fine.” When you walked in, you were overwhelmed by colors and patterns, so you turned back to Rafayel. “Give me a second to choose; there are so many options.”

“Take all the time you need, miss bodyguard.” He stepped out, his shoes clicking on the tile floor as he made his way to the living room. You could hear rustling as he began cleaning up something, probably getting a new canvas and preparing the area.

Taking a deep breath, you perused the clothes, finding almost anything you could think of, from warm coats with gold accents to tight-fitting dresses with streaks of blue and purple. Nothing jumped out at you as you looked through almost all the racks.

It wasn’t until you reached the last little corner that you saw a beautiful pair of sandals like the ancient gods would wear. They looked like they tied together just below your knee, the strings made of an iridescent blue. Right above it hung a gown, long and flowing. If it weren’t adorned with matching iridescent hues, you would think it was a nightgown. It was pure white, a beautiful shining blue string wrapped around the waist and collar. You were drawn to it, your hand instantly shooting out and pulling it from the hanger.

You wondered if anyone else had worn this or if Rafayel had invited anyone else to do this exact thing. A hint of jealousy appeared before you shook it away; he wasn’t yours . Immediately, you started undressing, folding your clothes, and preparing to set them on his bed. When you finished the last knot on the sandals, you walked out, setting your clothes on Rafayel’s bed.

Peeking into the living room, you see Rafayel standing at the clear wall, looking out over the ocean. His solemn expression is reflected in him, and you can see his eyes following the tides. The hands in his pockets flexed as he rocked on his heels again.

Not wanting to eavesdrop on him any longer, you cleared your throat, leaning against the door frame. When Rafayel turned around, he had to keep his face a bit neutral, not wanting to let slip just how much he was amazed by your beauty. As his eyes scanned your outfit, you felt your skin heat up.

“Do you let every woman wear this when you paint them?” You joked, knowing he said he didn’t paint people. But who knows? Maybe a past lover had been in your exact position, except this time you weren’t lovers. Walking forward just a bit, you cross your arms over your chest, feeling the sheer cover over the silk gown itch your skin.

“Of course not! I told you I don’t paint people. But you’re an exception.” Rafayel scoffed, rolling his eyes and letting his hand come to rest on his chest. He pretended to be hurt, his thoughts clouded by the sight of you in the gown. It brought back memories, things he wished you would remember but knew were impossible. You wouldn’t remember; you couldn’t remember.

He walked over to the easel, his paints already mixed and ready to go. Looking back at you, his breath caught in his throat, his words coming out as a sigh before he steeled his expression into one of impatience. “That was a piece given to me by a very famous designer. No one has worn it, just you. And I think it was meant for you, miss bodyguard.”

Instead of adding another quip to the duel, you relented, walking over to his stool that sat a few feet from the mural wall. Awkwardly standing there, you looked at Rafayel before sitting on the stool. You tried to do precisely what you did before, one of your feet sitting on the footrest and the other gently pressing into the floor. Giving him a look, you watched as he picked up his brush. “How’s this?”

Rafayel had to clench his jaw to stop the endless compliments that would fall from his lips. Instead, he nodded his head, focusing back on the paint he haphazardly stroked onto the canvas. “Great, keep still for me, princess.”

He didn’t notice the slip of his tongue, but you did. The nickname came so effortlessly from him that you had to bite your lip. Another rush of nostalgia hit you in the chest, and your heartbeat sped up just slightly. In an effort to calm your thoughts, you took a few deep breaths, not knowing why it sounded so familiar and alien at the same time.

There was a clear picture in his head, the beige and yellow colors mixing to make a beautiful piece of art. When he was finished, he would hang it in his room for his eyes only. It was like he could still remember that day, the hot sun beating down on his skin as he stood on the dunes. The light almost blinded him when he saw you, and he began to stroke white paint on your outline.

Silence fell between you, and you remained still, your gaze swinging from the beautiful deep blue ocean in the distance. There was also the concentrated look on Rafayel’s face as he scribbled on the canvas. He usually sat on the stool, the same one you were currently occupying, but he didn’t mind having to stand, his long legs bending slightly to get a better look at the painting head-on.

The waves crashing provided good background noise as you felt his eyes on you once more. The tension in the air snapped tight each time you made eye contact, a small smile blooming on Rafayel’s face. He tried to ease some of your nerves, his gaze traveling to your hips and legs, poking out just slightly from the bottom of the gown. The blue strings of the sandals hugged your calves tight, making a slight indent in your skin.

His resolve wasn’t fairing, and he realized he didn’t think it through when he asked you to model for him. He began imagining pushing the gown up your body, exposing every inch of you to him. The thoughts that came to him sometimes at night began to slip in, and he had to shake his head lightly, pulling his hand back before he totally ruined the painting with the wrong shade of orange.

“How’s it coming along?” Your voice cut through the silence, watching as Rafayel paused for a moment. The way your eyes met was quick, an energy surrounding you that caused the hair on your arms to stand on end. If you weren’t paying attention, you would have missed the way the tips of his ears blushed, his shoulder twitching as he shrugged.

“It’s coming along well; just make sure not to move. I don’t want you to mess it up, miss bodyguard.” He teased, wiggling his eyebrows at you. Though his voice was light, his throat clenched as a breeze tumbled in, your gown fluttering around your legs.

The fragrance you always wore seemed enhanced by the salty smell of the ocean flowing around the room and surrounding Rafayel. He took a deep breath, your scent intoxicating to him. Whenever you were around, he couldn’t help but be intrinsically drawn to you, your natural smell causing his brain to go fuzzy.

Rafayel took notice of the way you shivered, his hand stuttering as he created the wind in his painting, the edge of the gown making a rippling effect in his art. When he looked at you again, you were still, eyes gazing at the ocean. He wondered if you felt drawn to the sea just as he did. Although curious, he never pushed the boundary, not wanting to dig up the tragic past that he was cursed to remember.

“Cold?” His question hung in the air for a second before you nodded. Instead of teasing you, his brow softened, and he tilted his head. “Not too much longer, I promise.”

When you nodded again, Rafayel turned his attention back to the painting. It was amazing how quickly he could switch into the creator mindset. His dedication to everything he did was admirable, and despite how dramatic he could be at times, it was almost always for good reason.

While he was preoccupied, you let your eyes admire him. His eyes squinted slightly, flicking over the canvas. One of his hands held his paintbrush, while in the other sat the color palette. There were many beiges and yellows, along with white and blue. Curiosity ate at you, and you wondered what exactly he was doing in the background.

His black pants slid over his legs and hung on his hips. The waistband tightly held his tucked button shirt, smoothing his shoulders. The muscles in his arms flexed as he twisted his wrist, making frantic lines on the canvas.

Caught up checking him out, you didn’t notice how Rafayel smirked. He didn’t think he would catch you staring at him so openly, and he couldn’t help the chuckle that fell from his lips as he straightened up.

As you met eyes, he stopped, lips curled into a smirk. The distance between you seemed like it stretched on, and worlds and timelines separated you. The beating of your heart quickened, skin pebbling as another ghost of cool air wafted in. Rafayel’s eyes softened, caught in your trance.

Extending a hand, he beckoned you over to him with a proud smile as he gestured towards the painting. “Come have a look at this masterpiece.”

Hopping off the stool, you walked over. Rafayel’s eyes pierced through you as you took in the painting. He was right; it was a masterpiece . Rising dunes stretched into the distance, and dark shadows and bright highlights gave depth to the two-dimensional picture. It wasn’t until you noticed yourself that you gasped.

The white gown you were wearing stood out amongst the blue sky and beige sand but somehow still blended in perfectly. Your shadow was long behind you, the light of the sun in your face. It was amazing how he made it feel like wind brushed across your features, making the gown flow behind you. The blue accents of your sandals and the dress were small, light brushstrokes that flitted across your body and skin.

Once again, the familiar rush of longing flooded your senses, and you wanted nothing more than to reach your hand out and feel the sand fall through the gaps in your fingers. It felt so real , like a memory that was lost in time. You were in a trance, analyzing the background details: the small squares in the distance resembling a village, the shadows on your gown making it look like it was actually moving…

“You’re too silent, it’s worrying me.” Rafayel’s playful voice wrenched you back to reality. His head tilted in impatience, trying to read your expression. If he looked closer, he would have seen the scene reflected in your eyes, the longing you felt mirroring his own. However, he stayed in his spot, arms crossed over his chest, and awaited your words.

“I… I don’t know what to say.” For once, you were speechless, your throat incapable of putting together what you felt at that moment. “I can’t say anything except it’s stunning… Nothing like your other paintings…” You stared at him in amazement, your hands lying at your sides. “This one is special.”

Looking at Rafayel, you saw his Adam’s apple bob, his fingers gripping his arms. To anybody glancing at him, they would think he was perfectly normal, but you weren’t just anybody. It was a look you hadn’t seen from him like he was holding something back. He noticed the furrow in your brow, the smell of your perfume wafting towards him as you tried taking a step forward.

Rafayel met each step you took with a step back. A look of hurt and confusion passed over your face, and Rafayel had to clench his fists, jaw tightening. Every nerve in his body was on edge. His own restraint began to wear thin as he took in your appearance—as beautiful as ever—and the intoxicating scent that seemed to smother him even more than usual.

“Yeah.” He choked out, nodding his head frantically. “Yeah, it’s really special.” His lips twisted into a wry smile, his eyes trailing down your body to rest on your feet, the intricate laces drifting up your calves. It looked like he was restraining himself, his usual playful and light personality darkened by the night.

“Raf,” You said his name, and Rafayel had to stop himself. He didn’t want you to see the effect you had on him. The simple utterance of his name echoed through his head. The way you looked at him caused his throat to close; words stuck there forever, wanting to be released. “Are you okay?”

“Oh yeah,” With a light shake of his head, he was snapped back. His usual playful disposition faded a bit as he stared at you. The colors in his eyes mixed together, and even from where you stood, you could see the moonlight reflected in his pupils. “Yeah, I’m good.”

As if something snapped in him, Rafayel looked around, a low hum vibrating his throat as he stuffed his hands into his pockets. His fists clenched, blood rushing down and causing him to clear his throat. He wasn’t sure where to run to, knowing that if you just looked closer, he would be caught red-handed.

“I’m going to grab the supplies to preserve this and use the bathroom.” He pointed back towards his bedroom, breaking eye contact with you as he rocked on his heels. “Just relax on the couch for a minute… I’ll be right back.”

Rafayel trailed off, giving you almost no time to answer him as he turned and walked into his room. It was weird how he shut the door when he was always so open and inviting towards you, causing you to tilt your head in confusion.

As you were blanketed in silence, you went to sit on the couch, feeling the soft fabric under your fingertips. Thinking back to all the times you sat there, listening to Rafayel rant and pace through the room, it brought back memories, and you smiled, seeing how different it was bathed in night.

Your eyes trailed back to the painting, entranced by its image. It looked even more real from farther away, like a picture taken by a professional camera and displayed. Sounds echoed in your mind, men laughing and shouting in the distance. The heat of the sun burned your skin, and you almost raised your hand to block the rays.

The beating in your heart increased, feeling the silk of the gown against your legs. Your bottom lip trembled, and emotions that you didn’t think were yours suddenly rushed over you. A slight tremble shook your hands, and you had to grip the dress and anchor yourself to this reality. This reality . Yes, what you felt was real; Rafayel was real, the ocean outside was real, and the city skyline and people sleeping were real. The painting wasn’t real.

You weren’t sure how long you sat on the couch, listening to the ocean waves and smelling the salt in the air. Your eyes flicked around the room, refusing to sit on the painting again. The thoughts in your head faded away as you focused on the ocean, your brain immediately landing back on Rafayel. Where was he?

Curiosity got the better of you, and you stood up, the heels of your sandals lightly clicking on the tile floor as you approached his room. From behind the door, there was rustling, and although you didn’t want to invade his privacy, you leaned in, pressing your ear against the door.

“Fuck,” Rafayel’s low voice was very faint, almost inaudible if it weren’t for the deafening silence in the living room. You bit your lip, unsure of what exactly he was doing. Thoughts raced through your head, and your face burned as you explored all the possibilities…

Rafayel’s throat closed, his brain running a million miles a minute as he tried to make it brief. Ripping his clothes off in haste, his breath came out in pants. Quiet . He tried to urge himself, his cock already throbbing and leaking precum onto the sheets.

Your scent … He had to stop the groan from his lips as he closed his eyes. The clothes that you changed out of lay perfectly on his bed, greeting him and begging to be used. Your bra… Rafayel felt so dirty. His chest flushed red as he remembered you were just one room away, waiting on him. You were waiting on him, and eventually, you would become impatient. It was only a matter of time unless he hurried up .

In contrast to his hasty thoughts, he slowly grabbed your bra, trying to convince his mind that this was okay. He could get away with it and return to where you sat on the couch. He just needed to get it out . There weren’t many people who could cause him that much turmoil. In fact, no one could, except for one person: you . No matter what, when, or where, you were the only exception.

Another low breath stuttered out as Rafayel wrapped his hand around his cock, the other hand taking hold of your bra. Your scent already washed over him, more intense than before. Your natural perfume was like an aphrodisiac, immediately causing blood to pool to his lower half. It was already hard enough to control himself around you usually, his heart aching for you just to remember , but as he glanced at your clothes on his bed, he couldn’t help himself.

“Fuck.” The word slipped out once more, his jaw clenching as he quickly tried to finish himself off. His thumb glided over his tip, precum dripping down his length. As he sniffed your bra, he thought about you, on top of him or under him, whatever it was. He pictured his face buried between your tits just as he was buried in your bra. Vivid pictures in his mind that he wanted to put onto a canvas. Display in his room so he can always see you lost in pleasure.

His hand sped up, grip tight and bruising as he bit down on his hand. He had to stay quiet; if you found him, then he would surely dive into the ocean and never return. The embarrassment almost had him stopping, but it was too late. He was already fully naked, his cock standing long and aching. He couldn’t just hide his hips from you the rest of the night, no. He had to finish. A small bead of sweat ran down his forehead, pooling into his collarbone as his fingers clenched around his throbbing cock.

Your heart rate quickened, your hand glancing over the doorknob, and you thought about it for a moment. The cold metal stung your skin, and you felt electricity run through you. You heard another expletive from the other side of the door.

With a breath, you turned the knob, opening the door and peeking your head in. While you had thoughts about what exactly he was doing, you would never have guessed what you saw.

At first, your eyes met Rafayel’s, taking in his flushed cheeks and chest. His nipples looked hard, straining in the moonlight that washed over his skin. Your jaw dropped slightly, seeing one of his hands gripping his leaking cock. And the other…

Rafayel heard your gasp; his own jaw slack as his eyes met yours. The hand on his cock stopped, his fingers twitching. He was so close , the need building in his stomach and to have it cut off like that. Dropping your bra onto the bed, he sat up, his throat closing as he tried to speak.

“I… I’m…” His voice failed him, eyes searching yours. He expected to see disgust, disappointment, or even - his worst nightmare - hatred.

“I was wondering what was taking you so long.” Your hands sat at your sides, fingers moving against the flowy fabric. Arousal pooled in your underwear, your steps light as you walked to the edge of the bed.

“I’m… I’m sorry.” Rafayel whimpered, his lower lip pouting slightly. The sight of him, so lewd and dirty yet looking at you so hungrily and apologetically, made your heart race. Standing there, your knees brushing against the edge of the bed, you paused. The man that lay on the bed sighed, the hand that previously held your bra hanging in the air.

Silence fell between you, and you knew you had two options: indulge in him, your feelings for the artist finally being put out in the open… Or walk away and almost surely ruin the friendship and possible relationship that might have developed. Your eyes flitted around his body, seeing his abdomen tighten with each breath he took. His cock still twitched in his grasp, his tip poking out from his fist, leaking precum and begging to be finished off.

“Do you…” You trailed off, slowly walking around to the side of the bed and sitting down. Rafayel groaned, your skin giving off a delicious scent, different than the bra that he had previously buried his face in. He hung on your every word, his eyes wide as he silently begged for you to say something. “Do you want me to help?”

The question drifted into the air, surrounding him and taking his breath right out of his lungs. As if given the green light, Rafayel sat up further, extending his hand towards you. His eyes changed from desperate to dark.

“Yes, I need you.” His voice deepened, the sincerity going far beyond pure lust and sinking into yearning. Every inch of him yearned for you; every single time he was given life, he searched for you to the ends of the earth. The gown you wore brought back memories of a different time, and Rafayel was reminded of just how deep his devotion was to you. “Please?”

Your hand rested in his, feeling how moist his palm was as he guided you to sit on his lap. Rafayel’s hands moved to your hips, bunching your gown up so your thighs were exposed to the cold air. His hard cock pressed against your underwear, the silk fabric of your dress brushing against his lower abdomen.

The way he looked at you, a wonder in his eyes like he had watched a goddess descending from the sky, was addicting. In truth, he had always looked at you that way, yet as soon as you would glance over at him, he was looking elsewhere. Rafayel never wanted to force anything on you, hoping that your bond would naturally bring you to him. After all, there were lifetimes where he couldn’t find you, where he was stuck in a world that wasn’t brightened up by your presence.

Rafayel stared at you, his lower lip pulled into his mouth as his hands awkwardly caressed your thighs. His touch was tentative, his fingers not quite sure exactly what he was doing or what he wanted to do. The desire he felt was only extended to you; the only pleasure he ever sought out was by his own hand on very few occasions. Although he could remember the past, those specific instances never popped up and unfortunately, he didn’t really retain the muscle memories.

Your hands rested on his bare chest as you leaned forward. Before you could speak, Rafayel wrapped his arms around your back, pulling you flush against him. A low growl vibrated through you both as he buried his face in your neck. A soft kiss was pressed to your pulse point, his nose brushing against your skin.

“Fuck, princess.” His voice was nearly silent, more for himself than for you. Your touch on his skin was electric, like a shock by an eel. Every single thought in his head was erased, his focus solely on you. Your scent, your touch, your face, your voice, and fuck the way you tasted.

His tongue darted out, licking a stripe from your shoulder to under your ear. Cold air brushed across the trail, your eyes closing and your body reacting to the drastic change in temperature. You tasted divine, the salty sweat and unexplainable sweetness of your skin making his cock twitch under you.

“Tell me if it’s too much, princess,” Rafayel warned, listening to your sharp breaths and soft moans as his hands ran along your back. Slowly you ground your hips down onto him, only the thin fabric of your panties separating your pussy from his cock. It was gentle, giving you small glimpses of the pleasure he could bring you, but you weren’t in any rush. You wanted to indulge in the man below you.

As soon as he spoke, his teeth grazed your neck. With each slight nip at your skin, another gasp fell from your lips. A small drip of spit fell from your open mouth, searing Rafayel’s skin, and he had to clench his jaw, biting down a little harder. You drove him crazy , his heart always following your siren song no matter the consequences…

Rafayel’s nips turned into bites, which then turned to the soothing warmth of his tongue. He couldn’t wait to see what they bloomed into, the memories of the night lasting for days after. It wasn’t until your hands moved to his hair, tugging at the strands in an attempt to pull him off your neck, that he moved. He was a puppet under your strings; wherever you pulled him, he would go.

“Raf…” Fuck , Rafayel sucked in a breath when he heard you say his name like that, breathless and wanting.

“Yes, princess?” You stole the breath from his lungs, keeping it locked in your heart. “What do you need? Tell me.” His thoughts became nonsensical babbling, hands drifting back down to your hips.

“Want you, Raf.” Your brain was muddled with thoughts, not fully believing that you weren’t dreaming. Rafayel was - in fact - underneath you, his chest flushed and hands gripping your hips with a ferocity that you didn’t know if you could handle.

“You have me.” He teased, his thumbs stroking your hips through your gown. Even between layers of fabric, you could feel his searing touch.

“I want all of you.” You sat up, grinding your clothed pussy against his cock. By now, your panties were soaked with a mixture of his precum and your arousal, the tip of his cock poking out from between your legs. Reaching down, you ran your thumb across his slit, listening to the sharp gasp from the man below you. “Want your hands, your mouth, your cock. All of you.”

Rafayel’s hands cupped your cheeks, bringing you closer so your nose brushed against his. Taking a deep breath, he collected himself, his thumbs running along your cheekbones. His words fanned across your face, digging deep into your soul and planting itself there.

“You have all of me, princess.” It was the first kiss you shared, his lips slowly pressing against yours in a tentative dance. Giving you plenty of time to push him away, he relaxed when he felt you pull him in. Your hands moved from his hair to the back of his neck. His heart rate rocketed against your thumb as you rubbed along his pulse point.

It was initially slightly awkward, Rafayel’s closed lips cold against yours. Smiling, you pulled away, seeing a brush of red across his nose. Your hand moved to cup his jaw, your thumb pressing on his chin.

“Just relax, Raf.” You whispered, your breath being swallowed by his slightly opened lips. When you leaned in, his shoulders relaxed. The second time was better, his eyes following your every movement, and as you kissed him, he leaned into it. Your tongue poked out, parting Rafayel’s lips even further, and his grip on your waist tightened, slowly pushing and pulling your clothed pussy across his cock.

As your tongues met, you swallowed one of his moans, his lips chasing yours in desperation. Once again, your lips tasted delicious, and Rafayel did not want the kiss to end. Your thumb moved along his jaw, caressing his skin as the man below you panted, his breath hot as he had to pull himself away.

It was everything he ever dreamed of and more, all the restless nights he spent awake, thinking of you. The slow, languid drag of your tongues had Rafayel bucking his hips, the tip of his cock brushing against your clit. Low groans were exchanged as you pulled back.

The blush on Rafayel’s cheeks deepened, his eyes darkening as he leaned forward, his hands gripping at the hem of your gown. In a silent plea, he tugged, pulling up enough to look at your panties. If he didn’t know any better, he would have bit through his lip, his knuckles almost turning as white as your dress.

“Can I take it off?” He asked finally, his nose brushing your cheek. Your combined breaths were deep, his chest stuttering as you nodded, helping him remove the gown. It came with padding, so cold air struck your nipples. A gasp came from you, and you closed your eyes.

Words couldn’t describe the way Rafayel looked at you, his jaw slack and eyes unfocused. A drop of sweat rolled down the side of his face as he took in your appearance. As beautiful as he remembered.

“You’re absolutely stunning, princess.” His words were carried by the ocean breeze, sailing across the seas. The hands on your hips stopped for a moment, slowly inching up your waist. He wanted nothing more than to touch you and feel your plush skin under his fingertips. There was no way in hell he would let you go. You wouldn’t slip through his fingers again.

“Thank you.” You smiled down at the man below you, your hips slightly twitching as cold air rushed in again. Taking notice of his hesitance, you hold his hands, leading them to your warm breasts. “You can touch me, Raf. I want you to touch me.”

His fingers tested the waters, kneading your tits. Rafayel was very good about teasing you without actually knowing he was; the way he was massaging you without touching the most sensitive part had you whining. Your pussy rode the wave of his cock, languidly grinding as you tried to get some form of pleasure.

Before you could ask - beg - for him to touch you properly, he was leaning forward. His tongue brushed against your nipple, eyes shadowed by his lashes as he stared up at you. Rafayel was testing the waters, revering in your reactions even to his small actions. Your skin tasted divine, his lips immediately wrapping around the pebbled bud.

“Fuck, Rafayel.” One of your hands buried itself in his hair, fingers gripping the locks like it was the only thing you could hold onto in the rough waves. While he indulged in one of your breasts, the other was occupied by his hand, his fingers tweaking your nipple. The way your moans hung over him, your mouth so close to his ear. He could feel the vibrations of each noise you made, your heartbeat thrumming beneath his fingertips, and he had to remind himself you were alive, sitting on his lap. This was real ; it wasn’t just a fleeting fantasy.

“There you go, princess.” His breath hit your wet skin, your nipple hardening almost painfully as he blew cold air. The grip he had was rough with desperation instead of dominance. Even though he was below you, you still felt at his mercy, just like he felt he was at yours. “You’re so warm.”

The hand on your hip ran along your back, his fingers mapping every muscle and bone he could touch. Your skin was so warm under him, whether from the situation or your natural state; Rafayel didn’t know but wanted to find out.

A small pool of precum sat on his lower stomach, evidence of his previous alone time and a reminder that he wasn’t quick enough. You caught him, hook, line, and sinker. Maybe he liked being caught…

Darkness flooded you as you closed your eyes, one of your hands anchoring yourself on Rafayel’s bare shoulder while the other on the back of his head. Holding him against you, it felt as though your heartbeats were one. Completely in sync like it was meant to be for ages and ages.

Underneath you, Rafayel desperately thrusted his hips, wanting and needing any sort of movement on his throbbing cock. He needed to be buried in you, feel your warmth from inside. Fleeting touches were pressed to your back, pulling you into him while also causing your folds to trail along his cock.

“Can we… Can I go further?” Although he so desperately needed it, he pulled his bottom lip into his mouth. A slight nervousness flooded through him, and he looked up to gauge your reaction. “I- I’ve never done this before, but p-please.” His eyebrows furrowed, shadows dancing across his face as you cupped his jaw.

“Yes, please.” You whimpered, lips crashing onto his once more to drink in his presence. As impatient as you both were, the thought of it being his first time had you slowing it down. Need wasn’t a good word for it, no. There was a yearning in his eyes, swimming and inviting you into the depths with him. “Please fuck me, Rafayel.”

A yelp echoed through the room as Rafayel quickly sat up. His arms supported your waist as he flipped you over, your bare back resting against his soft sheets. From the new angle and the lack of his hips pressed against yours, cold air hit your clothed pussy.

“You’re so beautiful.” Goosebumps appeared on your arms, Rafayel’s hands sitting on your hips and moving up your torso. Half of him was entranced by your tits, and the other half was anxious about finally seeing you - all of you.

“Rafayel, please.” Tiny twitches of your hips brought Rafayel back to the present, his eyes drifting to yours. The soft, pleading look you gave him had his back flexing. Leaning over you, he pressed his long cock against your pussy. His tip brushed against your clothed clit, and he bit his lip, his nose brushing yours as he hovered over you.

“Do you remember what I was doing while touching myself?” The embarrassment he previously felt at being caught was out the window. In an attempt to prevent himself from losing control, he took the reigns, watching your eyes widen. Leaning down, he pressed a kiss to your collarbone, then your shoulder, a few on your neck until, eventually, his nose pressed against the same spot as before, right below your ear. He could feel your thrumming heart through your veins, sucking on the spot before burying his face there.

With your hands now more accessible to roam, your nails lightly scratched along his back and shoulders, moving down to his waist and across his abdomen. A sharp breath came from the man above you, his nose nuzzling your skin.

“Tell me, princess.” His whisper was pressed into your skin, thrumming through your veins. Silence suffocated you as he waited for an answer, his hands cupping your breasts, thumbs lightly flicking your nipples. “What was I doing when you caught me?”

Frantic touches turned deeper as you held his waist against you. Every sense was full of Rafayel, your nails digging into his flesh and threatening to draw blood. You tried to remember the moment of catching him, feeling like it was so far away as if it had happened centuries ago. The mental file cabinet that stored your memories was being wiped clean; even thinking back to the previous minute was impossible.

“You were… F-fuck…” Whimpering, you bit your lip, the image coming back to you. You held his waist tighter, your core throbbing as you thought about it. “Y-you were holding my… My bra.”

A low hum came from Rafayel, the memory of it still fresh in his mind. His cock twitched, resting across your folds. Pinching both of your nipples, Rafayel took a deep breath. He felt drunk, his head spinning with thoughts of holding you like this again for the rest of his life and all the lives that would follow.

“Your scent…” His voice morphed into an animalistic growl, every atom in his body vibrating. A carnal urge filled him, and he hooked his fingers in your underwear. You felt a puff of air on your neck; his words strained in his throat. “Can I take these off?”

“Y-yes.” You nodded along with your words; a moan ripped from your throat as he quickly ripped your panties down your legs. There wasn’t but a moment of his hands not being on you before he was roughly holding your thighs open. Your slick pussy clenched around nothing, folds spreading to expose you to him.

With much reluctance, Rafayel lifted his head from your neck, trailing kisses down until he was in front of your leaking hole. The fragrance… Fuck … His throat closed, heart hammering as he blew air over your pussy. Your cunt throbbed, thighs wanting so badly to close around his head, but he held you open.

He was transfixed, everything about your pussy was beautiful. As he pressed kisses along your thigh, he paused, kissing your folds and looking up to read your expression. You ran your fingers through his hair, nodding and encouraging him to continue.

“Fuck.” He cursed, his teeth nipping at your thigh. Something snapped in him, his hands digging into your flesh as he moved forward. His nose brushed your clit, a gasp coming from your lips at the sudden jolt. Inhaling your scent, he moaned, his tongue coming to collect some of your juices from your hole. He traced around your entrance, not yet dipping inside. Your taste was better than any alcohol he ever drank.

“Delicious.” The words were spoken into your pussy, his tongue drawing circles around your folds while his nose rubbed your clit. He was so caught up in you that he didn’t notice the way you tugged his hair.

“Raf,” You whined, pulling your hips away just enough to make him look up at you. Though there was a drunken stupor to his gaze, he was attentive, his thumbs caressing the junction between your thigh and hip. “Your nose… Feels so good on my clit… More…”

You tried to guide him, seeing his glazed-over eyes and smiling at him. When he dove back in, his tongue flicked your clit, and a louder moan was ripped from your lungs. A near scream echoed when Rafayel’s lips suctioned over your sensitive bud, his tongue causing you to clench your eyes shut.

“Oh fuck!” You screamed, feeling his finger simultaneously press into you. It was slow and methodical, sinking deeper. Your velvet walls enveloped him, the warmth from your body filling him to the brim. His hips stuttered on the sheets, his own pleasure rocketing through him at your screams.

After a few thrusts, Rafayel’s middle finger teased your hole, gently joining the other one. Nothing could have prepared him for how warm you felt, his fingers twisting and turning inside you as he explored. Biting your lip, you felt his long fingers brush your walls, the tips eventually passing over a particularly sensitive spot.

“Oh my- right there.” Bucking your hips, you ground into his fingers. His tongue teased your clit as he slowly fucked you, each press forward gliding against your g-spot and causing a burst of fireworks in your vision. “Rafayel.”

Rafayel was overwhelmed. The sight of your heaving chest, the sound of your moans, the smell of your leaking pussy, the feeling of your warm walls, and the taste of your juices. He couldn’t take it anymore, ripping his fingers from your cunt, leaving you whining and clenching around nothing.

“I’m sorry, princess…” He moved up the bed so he could look into your eyes. As he kissed you, you could taste yourself on his tongue, his thumb still playing with your throbbing clit. His hard cock rubbed against your pussy, his tip joining his thumb as waves of pleasure prickled your skin. “I have to be inside you now .”

Rafayel gripped his cock, squeezing the base. For a moment, time froze, his chest heaving as he looked down at your entrance, your hole pulsing and waiting to be filled. He had to pause, collecting his thoughts. The fear of finishing as soon as he was buried inside you was a possibility. His pent-up emotions trickled over the edge of the dam, ready to burst with any little crack.

As he guided himself into you, he sighed. Centuries and centuries of finding you, loving you, losing you . It all culminated in that moment. His hands seared as he pushed all the way, his cock fitting perfectly in your walls. You shared a low moan, both of your bodies reacting the same way as he bottomed out.

The feelings you harbored for Rafayel were intense, and they only grew with each day you met him. But as he looked down at you, his cock fully nestled against your g-spot, you felt your heart jump. Your legs wrapped around his waist, trying with useless abandon to get him deeper, fill every inch of you with him.

“Fuck.” Rafayel breathed through his nose, trying to keep himself calm as his eyes traveled around your body. The heels of your sandals dug into his back, a slow circling of your hips giving way to the low growls from the man above you. “Hold on, princess…” He stilled your hips, his abs clenching as he prolonged his orgasm. “Don’t wanna cum yet.”

You obeyed his plea, your head laying on the pillow as you both caught your breath. His cock twitched inside you, skin burning with desire as he skimmed his fingers over your thighs. As you looked up at him, that same sense of nostalgia suffocated you. Like with the paintings, it was as if you were looking at a picture, a fleeting memory in your mind's eye. But he was real; this was real.

“Okay, gonna move now.” The thrusts started slow and shallow, only pulling out halfway before pressing back in. Your pussy was so wet, the noises doing nothing to hide that fact. Bending down, Rafayel nuzzled his nose into your cheek, his lips ghosting over yours.

An instinct fell between you, his hands cupping your cheeks while yours rested on his waist. His muscles contracted with each breath and beat of his heart. It was natural… As if you had held each other in this position before.

The kiss you shared was soft, Rafayel holding you like you would disappear… Again … You were sand between his fingertips, and he didn’t want you to be washed away by his tides. As he kissed you, he pulled out all the way, thrusting forward harshly. The sound of his balls slapping on your ass and the sharp gasp that he swallowed with his own mouth had Rafayel taking control.

He pulled away from your lips just enough to look into your eyes. The thrusts that were once soft and exploratory, learning the inside of your body, turned into an insatiable hunger. Now that he had you, he didn’t want to let you go. People in his life came and went, and he never cared that much… You were the only exception; you were always the only exception. As long as his soul was on the planet, he would always find you. He swore on his people.

Wet noises and slaps bounced off the walls as Rafayel frantically chased your orgasms. One of his hands remained on your jaw, thumb running along your cheekbone. The other snaked down to where you were connected. First, he rubbed along your entrance, feeling the way you sucked his cock back in when he pulled out. Then, he pressed on your clit, finger quickly flicking. His hips stuttered every time you clenched around him, the knot in your stomach tightening.

“Fuck, Rafayel.” His name ripped out of your throat, your eyes blinking rapidly to clear the tears that were beginning to fall. Everything was too much; your whole body ignited in flames as you clung to Rafayel’s back. “I- I’m close.”

Your whimper went straight to Rafayel’s cock, his abdomen flexing as he felt himself so close. So very close . Just a little longer, a little more. Electricity sparked when you met eyes, the colors fading and blending into a beautiful hue as Rafayel panted, his tongue licking at your open mouth.

“M- me too, p-prin-cess.” His words stuttered just as his hips did, chasing and chasing and chasing. It wasn’t until he heard your scream right next to his ear that he let himself fuck into you harder.

Your orgasm crashed into you, your whole body convulsing as your legs locked around Rafayel’s waist. Fire washed across your skin as your hole pulsed around the cock that was still spearing in you. Low whimpers fell from your lips, overstimulation and exhaustion settling into your muscles while Rafayel chased his own orgasm with reckless abandon.

As he looked at you, his beautiful princess, he ground his hips into yours. Holding himself still, he panted, warm breath fanning across your face as spurts of warm cum flooded your walls. There was so much. It didn’t stop, his seed pushing out from around his cock as he slowly fucked you through your orgasms.

A slow, passionate kiss was pressed to your lips, Rafayel’s fingers lightly wiping the few stray tears that fell. His cock softened inside you, yet he stayed still, the feeling of being wrapped up in you something he ached for.

“Wow,” Your chest heaved as Rafayel’s weight nearly fell on top of you, your legs dropping to either side of his waist. Your hands sat on his shoulders, fingers pressing into the muscles.

The man above you chuckled, kissing your nose. There wasn’t anything he could say that could showcase how deep his feelings were for you. How much he yearned for you. How his heart almost stopped when he saw you for the first time. How his soul needed to be right next to yours or he felt incomplete.

“Yeah… Wow…” Was all he could say, agreeing with your sigh of wonder. He searched your eyes for any sign of hesitance, hoping and praying that your heart would remember his. That’s all he ever wanted, and it was for you to remember . “I’m… Sorry about what you walked in on.”

The thought of being caught sniffing your bra and jerking off caused Rafayel to shiver, his eyes dropping your gaze for a moment. Sometimes, he could be overwhelming, especially when you weren’t officially together, and something like that would scare some people away.

“Oh.” Being brought back to earlier, seeing the flush in his cheeks almost exactly mimicking the flush that was present now, a shy smile crossed your features. “I- I didn’t mind it. Why else would I offer to help… If I didn’t find it hot?”

Your words paused, letting Rafayel drink in the feeling of you in his arms. Gently, he turned back over, his back hitting the bed. His cock was still snug inside you, even though his cum was starting to leak down his balls and onto the sheets. Pulling you into his embrace, he caressed your back, kissing your temple.

“Good… I thought I scared you away.” The fear of you leaving him yet again was a cloud that lifted from his mind as soon as you laughed, snuggling into his arms and kissing his collarbone.

“Can we stay just like this for a minute?” Your muscles began relaxing, eyes closing as you listened to his heartbeat mirroring your own. “I feel… complete.”

As you uttered those words, Rafayel fought back tears. He gripped you so hard, no longer afraid of you floating away. Now, all he wanted to do was hold you close and never let you go. People came into his life, and they left. He never cared much, but when faced with the realization that you were here , you were so close, you were the only exception.

“We can stay like this forever, cutie.” He whispered in your hair, eyes closing as he relived the past, holding you close like that once again after centuries.

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sylusxyou · 16 days ago

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Sylus saying reader is short/too short and we say put some inches into me then?

omg my first request and it's a little scandalous! happy to oblige :) honestly, i got a little carried away with this one. not sure if it's exactly what you were looking for, but hope you enjoy. thank you for the request! word count: 1.5k content: just suggestive, use of kitten and sweetie, short reader hehe, reader can be gender neutral and non-mc

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

You were sure that Sylus placed his most used cookware in the highest cabinets just to make it difficult for you to grab. To be fair, most of your adventures in his kitchen resulted in burnt ingredients, hand cuts, or just plain bad food. You were determined, however, to surprise him with a decent home cooked meal. Three times this week you had practiced cooking baked scallops in your own kitchen. It was Sylus’ favorite dish and also the bane of your existence.

The first two times you made it at home, it was completely inedible. The third time it actually tasted decent, but there was still room for improvement. You were sure you would get it right this time, especially with the state of the art cooking appliances in Sylus’ kitchen.

None of that mattered, however, when you couldn’t even get a baking dish down from the cabinets. Since Sylus was so tall there was no step ladder in sight. You stared up at the stack of baking dishes and silently cursed your parents for passing on their lack of height to you.

There was no other option as you were the only person in Sylus’ residence. Just as you began your climb onto the counter you heard a throat clear behind you.

“What’s going on here?” The deep timbre of his voice never failed to send a chill down your spine.

You slid off the counter and turned to face Sylus. “Why are you back so early? I thought you were going to be out most of the night.”

“Last time I checked,” Sylus began to walk towards you, “this is my home. I don’t think I’m required to announce when I’m coming and going.”

The closer he got to you, the deeper the blush grew on your cheeks. He hadn’t even said anything flirtatious or suggestive. Just his presence flustered you and he knew it.

“Of course you don’t. But now you’ve ruined your surprise.”

This made him quirk an eyebrow, “My surprise?”

Sylus was now right in front of you. You stood with your back to the counter and peered up at him. ‘Damn tall people.’

“I was going to cook you dinner.” You reached behind you to grab the recipe sheet and hand it to him. “Baked scallops. Your favorite.”

His grin was wide, filled with unadulterated joy. These were your favorite smiles to get from him. Though he never said it, you were pretty sure you were the only one who got to see them.

Sylus looked over the recipe sheet and tapped you on the head with it before placing it back on the counter. “That’s very thoughtful of you, kitten, but you don’t have to do that.”

You narrowed your eyes at him and crossed your arms across your chest. “I know you’re saying that because you don’t think I can cook something edible.”

“Can you blame me, sweetie?” He gently placed his hands on either side of your face and brushed his thumbs across your cheeks. “The few times you’ve tried to cook with me, it didn’t really end well.”

You swatted his hands away. “I’m aware of that. But I’ve been practicing.”

“You’ve been practicing?”

“Yes, you can drop the skeptical tone.” You pulled your phone out of your pocket and scrolled through your photos. When your last try had turned out decent, you decided to snap a photo. It certainly wasn’t restaurant quality presentation, but you can tell that the scallops are well cooked. You showed the picture to Sylus.

He looked at the photo and then back at you. “That’s not bad. I guess I’m willing to risk it. How long until it’s ready?”

“I haven’t even started.” You pointed up the the high cabinet where the baking dishes were stored. “You keep your dishes way too high up.”

This made Sylus chuckle, “I have to keep fragile items out of harms way. Would you like some assistance?”

“Yes, actually, I would like that.”

His large hands grabbed your shoulders and turned your around. Before you could ask what his intentions were, he grabbed you by the waist and lifted you up.

“What are you doing?” you shouted.

You could hear the smile in his voice when he replied, “Put your feet on the counter, kitten.”

You did what you were told and Sylus’ hand rested on your ass, presumably to hold you in place.

The contact burned into your skin through the fabric of your shorts. “Somehow I feel like you have ulterior motives. You could’ve just grabbed it yourself.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” His hand gave a gentle squeeze.

You tried to compose yourself as you grabbed the baking dish from the cabinet. “You can let me down now.”

“Lean back and I’ll grab you.” Sylus stretched his arms out and you slowly lowered yourself down to be cradled by him. He gently placed your feet on the ground and leaned into your neck, placing soft kisses across the length of it.

It was completely unfair how easy it was for him to make you melt. You knew you had an effect on him has well, but he was able to keep it together more masterfully than you. Just once you wanted to see him flustered.

You gently pushed on his shoulders, removing his lips from their exploration of your neck. “Maybe you should keep your baking pans in a lower cabinet.”

“I’m sorry, kitten. Sometimes I forget I’m not the only one using these spaces anymore.” Sylus ran his hands up and down your arms. “And the person sharing them with me has such a small reach.”

The smug grin on his face told you he was intentionally pushing your buttons. “I’m not that short. You’re just freakishly tall.”

“Freakishly?” He raised an eyebrow. “No need to be hostile. I’m always happy to lend you my extra inches to reach the places you can’t.”

You couldn’t keep your eyes from widening. The way he quirked his head when he noticed your expression made you wonder if he realized exactly what he just said. Sylus was no stranger to innuendo but he usually shot for something classier and less obvious. This wasn’t exactly his style. Then again, he was hardly naive and much more skilled at keeping his composure than you. Perhaps it was intentional after all and he was feigning ignorance.

Well, two could play at that game. You couldn’t let this opportunity pass you by. Usually when Sylus said something suggestive you would blush and change the subject. Now was the time to be bold if you wanted to get a reaction out of him.

You tucked the baking dish in your hands under one of your arms and ran your free hand behind Sylus’s neck, lightly dragging your nails up and down. “If you take me to your bedroom you can show me just how deep your extra inches can reach.”

There it was. It was slight but it was unmistakable. Sylus’ eyes widened just a bit, his shock at your response momentarily visible to you. He shook it off quickly, however, and dipped his head with a chuckle. “My, my, my. You have gotten bolder, kitten.”

You fought the blush rising in your cheeks now that Sylus’ composure returned to him and shrugged. “I figured it was a good chance to give you a taste of your own medicine.”

“I like it. And you know what?” Sylus grabbed the baking dish tucked under your arm and placed it on the counter behind you. “I think I’ll take you up on your offer.”

His arms caged you in between him and the counter, his face mere inches from yours. “What do you mean?”

Sylus’ voice was a low, hot, whisper against your skin. “Why don’t we skip dinner and spend the rest of the evening in my bedroom. That’s what you really wanted, right?”

“N-no!” You grabbed the baking dish from behind you and held it up in front of you like a shield. “I worked way too hard to learn this recipe. We are not skipping dinner.”

Sylus placed a chaste kiss on your cheek. “Okay, kitten. We won’t skip dinner. I would hate for your hard work to go to waste.” He backed away from you, eyes still locked on yours. “Besides, scallops are a great aphrodisiac.” He grinned at you and began walking out of the kitchen. Over his shoulder he called back, “Let me know when dinner’s ready.”

You stood in place for a few moments, your face moving from blushing to completely red. You had wanted to be bold, to make him feel this way. With hardly any effort at all Sylus had flipped the script on you. Now you were left wondering if you had started something you hadn’t intended. As you began working on dinner you couldn’t keep your thoughts from wandering to you and Sylus in his bedroom. You hadn’t planned anything for desert but perhaps you’d have some after all.

#request #ask #love and deepspace sylus #love and deepspace #sylus #lads sylus #sylus qin #lnds sylus #sylus x reader #sylus fluff #sylus love and deepspace

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syluses · 2 months ago

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you are such a talented writer—literally art through words

i have got to ask: how was/is sylus during your pregnancy? how does he feel seeing your body change to accommodate growing his big babies?

also, does she end up giving him a girl? do they end up having even more? 🤭

ohhh thank you dear thats so sweet to hear!! 🥹💖 pls take this lil drabble as a long answer lol :,) [based off this fic] CW: slight yandere, pregnancy, suggestive, dubious feelings

hehe OKAY so sylus is super attentive to mc we’ve established that!! also i don’t wanna say he falls more in love with you bc that’s quite literally impossible- he’s already down atrocious. but that’s not to say something inside him doesn’t soften and melt into a puddle whenever he sees your belly bump or rubs it reverently with his hand. your pregnancy both reminds him to be strong, to be that one grounding force in your life, the thing both you and your blossoming family can lean on- but at the same time it brings the epiphany that he’s just a man at the end of the day… and if one thing will make him weak, it’s his wifey <3

but to concisely answer your question: sylus is possessive, yes- hawk-like in the way he watches over you, but he’s also very soft. he knows and hates that he can’t be around the base all the time for you (if life was simpler, he’d be glued to your side 24/7), especially when you’re at your most vulnerable, too big to properly move, hormonal and requiring some sort of aid- emotional or physical- around the clock.

luke and kieran help where they can and sylus silently entrusts that they’ll hold the fort down while he’s gone, but even then, papa isn’t the keenest on the idea of the boys lingering around you for long periods of time,… especially when he isn’t there as well. it’s not that he worries they’ll make some sort of move on you or anything (God knows they’d sooner wish death upon themselves than to lay a hand on sylus’s girl), but more so that you’ll grow a little too lenient on them. he’s not an incredibly jealous guy,.. but the streak is certainly there.

sylus thinks there’s something undeniably intimate in it as well: his beautiful wife pregnant with his kin, relying solely and fully on him. it deepens your bond, and your trust in him (and ultimately your affection, he hopes).

oh and seeing your body change and reshape itself to accommodate his kids ABSOLUTELY drives him crazy. you’ll be insecure and whatnot, subconsciously trying to wrap yourself in baggy clothes (his massive wardrobe making that very convenient), walking around the manor with a blanket draped over your shoulders, not meeting his eyes when sylus inevitably can’t keep his hands off for any longer and brings you to bed. but he’ll kiss away those tears you can’t help from falling and croon at your ear, his hands will appreciatively roam over all those new curves you loathe and he’ll be super super gentle when he fucks you... tell you the sweetest things- purring reassurance in that velvety, deep voice of his as his lips meld lovingly with yours.

seeing you a lil plump, extra soft and vulnerable- round with his children- makes it near impossible to keep a level head around you but he does his best. you’re always the priority, even when it feels like he’ll cum in his pants like a teenager when you slot yourself in his arms and bashfully guide his big hands toward your aching, swollen breasts. someone is standing at attention immediately.

ahem. also… this outcome can be imagined in another way, that’s completely fine wit me— but in my head, sylus DOES end up getting the precious baby girl he wanted. is he satisfied? oh one hundred freakin percent. for… how long? eh. maybe anywhere from half a year to twelve months before that baby fever kicks right back in and puts reader on her ASS. poor exhausted woman is furious at him for constantly nudging her towards having a bigger family; but to be fair, sylus won’t actually voice those returning wants until weeks or months down the line, for that exact reason. he doesn’t wanna piss her off too bad haha.

this time around he’ll try to cushion the blow by saying ‘oh but we have two boys and only one girl- we need just one more to tie the numbers up. our little sweetheart will hate us if we don’t give her someone to play dolls with, dont you think?’ or some nonsense like that. im sorry but to me, sylus wants a big family. i dunno i just think that man WANTS DESPERATELY for mc to domesticate his crazy ass!!! a bunch of trifling lil toddlers scampering around his home seems like a great way to do that! i mean, if not, what else would his house be so massive for? honestly, you’d both just be wasting the space otherwise :(

in any case, your mean pouty face can’t fool sylus. you absolutely adore those little ragamuffins he gave you and will give you. there’s no denying that. <3

#mailbox #fic asks #love and deepspace #lads x reader #love and deepspace x reader #sylus x you #sylus x reader #sylus x mc #love and deepspace sylus #lads sylus #sylus smut #yandere #guess i’ll just tag this bc it passes as a sylus drabble lol #love is a bitch #ataxia #calebrity #thank u bby 🫰🫰#very sweet of u to say 💕#i hope this works as an answer LOOLL

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matchpointfaist · 2 months ago

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sheltered art! x flirty reader pt iv

pretty piece of flesh ˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

halloween .

not for the first time, and certainly not for the last, art found himself wandering the rooms of a packed frat house, trying his best to steer clear of temptation. ever since he'd had that little taste of you, all the things he once saw as sins, were now just forbidden fruit; temptations dangled before him, calling to him, pulling him in deeper until eventually he'd betray everything he'd been taught, the very things he stood for and used to believe in.

it was halloween night, and he was dressed in chain link with a cheap prop sword dangling on his hip, as he and the tennis team had gone as king arthur and the knights. he found himself looking for you, in that small, subconscious way he'd grown all too comfortable with. sweeping the room for any trace of your hair, or your dark lipstick, or straining his ears for the slightest sound of your laugh.

you hadn't sought him out after that night. he told himself it was a good thing, that this thing between you could only end badly, but he knew it was all a lie. he checked his phone obsessively, eager for just a text from you, a confirmation that he didn't humiliate himself and run you off forever. in the back of his mind, he couldn't shake the thought that he should have known this would happen. you were too good to be true.

in the midst of his self pity, he glanced up as someone said your name, and there you were. like something from heaven, or hell, or wherever the fuck you had to have come from. gone was the dark eyeliner and lipstick, the sultry look you always seemed to have. you were all clean, light colors, innocent little look in your eye. a pretty white dress, fluffy angel wings, and a shimmery halo on your head.

it felt like you were torturing him, mocking his faith, or the faith he'd lost the moment you sank to your knees in front of him. the way you'd said god's name even as his come shined on your lips; he was weak in the knees, in the middle of all his friends, watching you walk over, the memories on a reel in his mind.

"art," you smiled, so sweet, so cloying, "i didn't know you'd be here. cool costume," he tried to remember how to speak normally, how not to give himself away for how depraved he was feeling, "uh, yeah- i got invited. you look beautiful, i mean, i love your costume,"

you laughed, and jesus, your hand was on his arm again. "i thought maybe you'd appreciate it," you smiled, blinking up at him with wide, faux doe eyes, "you think god would mind you being with an angel, art?"

he didn't give a fuck what god minded. he didn't care about anything other than your hand on his arm and the look in your eye and the cross necklace he now recognized as the one he suspiciously couldn't find after your last meeting, now dangled around your neck. he threw faith out the window just as he had the second you entered his bedroom, taking your hand in his and pulling you to a more secluded part of the house, even with his head screaming at him that he was taking this too far.

"you didn't call," he said quietly, "i thought you didn't want to see me, and now you're here and that's my necklace, and what are you doing dressed up like an angel anyway?" he could hear how ridiculous he sounded, like he had any right to demand you call him, like he knew what he was doing when it came to you at all.

"there ya go," you sounded pleased, a small smile on your lips, "knew you'd come out of that shell eventually. you missed me, isn't that right?" and then you were on your tip toes, leaning up to kiss him, so sweet and so dangerous.

he pulled you against him, practically clinging to you, his hands resting under your angel wings and his mouth hungry against yours. "missed you too," you mumbled between kisses, all sloppy and desperate and wrong just right.

he couldn't think, couldn't focus on anything other than this, than your hands wandering over his costume and the way you bit as his bottom lip just enough to make him crazy. and then you were pulling him into one of the bedrooms, and he couldn't say no, couldn't even think that he'd ever wanted anything but this.

he pulled you to the bed, pulling you into his lap, panting against your lips and letting his hands wander wherever he felt like it. he was so tired of being good, of doing the right thing, and you felt so fucking good against him. and god, the sounds you made, the little whimpers between kisses and the way you mumbled his name as you kissed down his neck, biting his collarbone, sucking a bruise into the delicate skin behind his ear.

"want you," he whined as you nipped at the skin, his hips bucking beneath you, "god, please, i'll be so good," you giggled against him, kissing back up to his mouth, "know you'd be good," you sounded almost like you were teasing him, "not gonna take your virginity in a frat guys bedroom, art,"

but then your hands were wandering even lower, pulling down his pants, and he prayed that you didn't mean it, that you'd let him fuck you and finally end this horrible yearning. instead, you left him in his boxers and settled back in his lap, kissing him with a feverish need.

you ground your hips against him, and he could feel the wetness seeping through the cotton of the layers between you, a low groan rumbling in his throat. "how bad do you want it?' you whispered as you trailed your kisses low once again, "tell me, wanna hear you say it," he dug his fingers into your hips, trying to keep some form of composure, "want it so bad, please, just want something-"

you reached down, sliding down his boxers just enough for his cock to slap against his abs, smiling as he sucked in a breath at the feeling. then you settled back into his lap, gently taking him into your hand, and he nearly fainted when you slid him inside your soaked panties, grinding against him.

he gasped, his eyes closing, his teeth digging into his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. "oh my god, you're so wet," he groaned, pulling you back and forth against him with shaking hands, "feels so good, i'm-"

"all for you," you grabbed his jaw, pulling him in almost close enough to kiss you, "know you're close, just go ahead," you said it so sweetly, like you really didn't mind, and he felt so bad but you felt so good, he was pulling away in an instant, spilling cum all over your thighs, panting and whining and rutting against your skin.

he rested his head against your chest as he caught his breath, apologizing for making a mess of you, but you waved it off, running your fingers through his hair in a way that almost made him feel like this really meant something to you.

"you didn't finish," he mumbled into your skin, pressing a soft kiss against your chest, "let me- can you show me? wanna make you feel good, too," you shifted off his lap in response, taking one of his hands in yours, "so sweet," you hummed, "come here,"

and then your legs were spread, and your panties were pulled to the side, and he could've died right there and gone straight to heaven. "so beautiful," he hated how in awe he sounded, but he truly was. you felt like a gift from god, a reward for how good he'd been for so long.

you motioned for him to come closer, and he was so close he was nearly whining again, need thrumming in his veins. "tell me what to do," he practically begged, looking up at you through thick lashes, "wanna be good,"

you might've been dressed like an angel, but you felt like some sort of demon, some siren, as art donaldson sat between your thighs, following all your instructions so eagerly, lapping at your cunt like he'd done it a million times before. you knew he'd be good, so eager to please, so sweet and patient. he was so good, such a good man, perfect for you to teach and grow with.

you didn't care about any of that as your hands were fisted in his hair, rocking against his face as he sucked at your clit, little whines leaving his mouth and vibrating against you. he was rutting against the mattress, desperate like he was the one getting head, and that made it so much better.

"gonna- fuck, art, gonna come for you," you moaned, your grip on his hair growing tighter as that only encouraged him more. he was chasing it, hungry for it, so desperate to be good to you. you came with a sharp gasp, your eyes rolling back as he worked the orgasm out of you, so thorough and devoted.

when you were finished, he crawled up to kiss you, his lips wet and shining in the dim bedroom light. "was that- did i do good?" he asked timidly, and you nodded, pulling him down to wrap your arms around his shoulders. "so good," you mumbled, tracing your fingertips down his back, "you're perfect,"

you let yourself fall asleep despite it not even being your house, despite you telling yourself that this was a mistake, sleeping tangled up with art like this.

you'd never slept better.

#challengers #art x reader #art donaldson fic #challengers 2024 #art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #artdonaldson #art donaldson smut #mike faist #mike faist smut #art donaldson x you #challengers movie #challengers smut #sheltered art x flirty reader #sheltered! art #mike faist x you

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moonstruckme · 11 months ago

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rooomate james. 😭😭 literally obsessed w himm!!

Me too I love him (and you!) sm <3

part 1 │ part 2 │ part 3 │ part 4 │part 5 │ part 6 │ part 7 │ part 8 │ part 9 │ part 10 │ part 11 │ part 12 │ part 13

roommate!James x shy!reader ♡ 808 words

You don’t recognize James’ car until he shouts at you.

“Hey!”

You give a little jump, turning midair to find James smiling out the rolled-down window.

“Want a lift?”

“God, you scared me!” You backtrack and open the passenger door. The seat looks to have been tidied in a hurry, receipts and takeaway containers tossed into the backseat. “How’d you even know I’d need a ride?”

James refrains from responding to give you an expectant look. You roll your eyes and buckle your seatbelt. Satisfied, he puts the car in reverse, setting his hand on your seat to look behind him as he backs out of the parking spot.

“You weren’t home when I got there,” he says, “and then I remembered on Sundays you usually get off at eleven, so here I am. Is Art not with you?”

“No, he wasn’t working tonight.”

James doesn’t seem too disappointed by this. He pulls onto the street. You watch him, looking almost unconsciously for signs of wear and tear.

Now that rugby season is in full swing, he’s gone not just during the day for training but sometimes overnight for away games. You’ve been alone in your apartment for the whole weekend while he played in London and then Bristol. It was weird. You think you’ve accidentally grown used to having James around. You don’t fancy yourself a very tactile person, and the urge to hug him isn’t terribly strong, but it’s there.

“How was work?” he asks you.

“It was fine. How were your matches?”

“They were fine,” he imitates you, grinning. “No, it’s like I said. Winning the second one’s always better than winning the first and losing the second. It’s nice to end on a good note.”

He’d texted continual updates while he was gone. You sat on your couch, pretending to yourself or perhaps to some invisible, judgemental observer that you were watching TV when really you were entirely focused on James’ texts. You imagined him sitting in his hotel room doing the same, or maybe in a pub with his teammates, smiling at his phone each time you responded.

Your imagination has become terribly overindulgent lately.

“Honestly, I was pretty disappointed you weren’t home when I got there,” James says, a familiar teasing lilt to his voice. “I was hoping to come in and catch you wearing one of my jumpers and staring tearily at a framed photo of me.”

You roll your eyes, but your face burns. You did use his shampoo, once. In your defense, you’d run out of yours, but you thought that it wouldn’t be so bad to smell like him, nice and fresh and comforting. It had foamed more than you expected. It did smell really nice, but it made your hair feel dry (boy shampoo always does that, you’ve no idea how James’ curls seem to thrive under such poor treatment) and you felt silly about it for days, lovesick in the most derogatory sense.

Didn’t stop you from sniffing your hair occasionally, though.

“You weren’t gone to war,” you reply. “And where would I get a framed photo of you?”

James looks affronted. “I assumed you already had one. How did you get through the weekend without even a photo? You brave, brave girl.”

“I actually threw a rager,” you deadpan. “Rented out your room to six people traveling through with the carnival and let them invite over all their friends. Did loads of hard drugs.”

“Well, we all have different ways of coping.” He reaches over to squeeze your shoulder consolingly. You pretend goosebumps don’t skitter all the way down your arm from the brief touch. “And what a marvelous job you’ve done covering up your escapades!” He exclaims as you pull up in front of the apartment. “I haven’t come across the cocaine dust on our bathroom counter yet, so you must have really done a thorough cleanup.”

“Keep looking, it’s around there somewhere.”

James laughs. You’re slower getting out of the car than he is, and by the time you emerge he’s in front of you, pulling you into a hug. You think your bones liquefy. He’s warm and strong and he smells like his shampoo, both arms squishing you heartily before he lets go with a little laugh.

“Sorry,” he says, bringing his hands to your upper arms, “I didn’t even ask. I just missed you, you know?” James has this look on his face, smile brilliant and eyes wide open. So saccharine sweet you almost can’t look at him. “Guess I got used to having you around.”

You do your best to smile back. “Yeah, me too.”

He squeezes your arms before turning to go inside. “You smell like Italian food, too. I don’t suppose you’ve cooked anything recently that’s still in the fridge? I’m beginning to think about second dinner.”

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rottenk1sses · 3 months ago

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thinking of corrupting innocent art, maybe he grew up religious and his chastity ring is his most prized possession, but he can't say no to your advances, doesn't say yes either— but he never stays away for too long, anyway comes crawling back wordlessly like a puppy w his tail between his legs

cw : corruption, coercion/elements of dubcon (18+)

pastor’s son!art donaldson who stays in his hometown instead of going off to college; opting to help his father with the church as the months tick by, only fueled by a sense of duty and maybe a bit of religious guilt..

you knew the very instant you set eyes on him that you had to have him.

he always looked like an angel when he was stood behind his dad during services—the yellowed overhead light shining suspiciously brighter on him alone; his neatly groomed golden curls bouncing in front of his forehead with every obedient and devout nod of his head to the words of the verses. pretty, you had thought, pure.

the first time you ever tried to seduce him, the church had already emptied out to give you the perfect opportunity to slide into a pew and call him over to ‘talk’. of course, he was more than happy to do so. he talked with everyone, it was like a second nature to provide comfort to others.

he found you really attractive when he finally got a good look at you, sexy even. but the idea of perceiving you that way had curdled a gross feeling in his gut. it wasn’t right—it wasn’t him—and he knew that. but he still chose to sit down next to you that particular evening and indulge that disturbing part of himself. could it really be so wrong to appreciate one of god's fellow creations?

he knew deep down that god would be ashamed.

you had chatted him up for less than ten minutes (making up a sad story about how awful your life was going) before your hand was sneaking over his thigh, sliding over the dark fabric of his church slacks. he'd frozen completely stiff at the feeling, like he was scared of how he felt about the touch and petrified of the consequences.

art chuckled nervously and looked to your eyes, almost pleading.

“uhm,” he breathed out shakily, pushing your touch gently from his body, refusing your advances, “i don’t, uh.. im not—..”

he hoped that his lack of an actual explanation would be a good-enough one in of itself, but you pushed back anyway despite his protests. draping your leg over his, stroking his blond hair, leaning in to kiss his flushed neck. he was trembling all over. now god was really going to strike him dead.

“shhh,” you whispered, “just let me make you feel good, okay? that would really help me feel better…”

he wanted to say no. he wanted to shoot up from his seat and run away like a scared little pup, protecting the sanctity of his body and mind from whatever sin you were corrupted with, but he didn’t. a deeper, sicker part of him couldn’t. he was disgusted with himself.

an anxiousness started to brew just under his skin, and he felt it filtering through his blood like a petrifying poison. like a mess of flies buzzing around a decaying body that was buried deep in the midst of his morality. he couldn’t move; he couldn’t fight back.

but oh.. it.. it felt good..? and he did want to help you..

he was almost surprised by how quick he'd gotten an erection. it strained up against his zipper before you even got a chance to grope him properly.

and then you did.

and then he felt that awful, putrid, incredible feeling bubbling up from his pelvis; a feeling that he had only allowed himself to indulge in when he was at home, in the dead of night, tucked into the messy covers and rocking his hips into his mattress to chase the temptation.

an innocent loophole.

after all, he’d never physically touched himself there in a sexual manner, let alone with the hand of his that held a finger banded in silver—a symbol of his purity—so it would be alright in the end, right? he had only ever done it to scratch an itch. a forbidden itch, sure, but god wouldn’t want him to suffer like that. a quick bit of relief, and then it was over and done with. always.

but in that particular moment, when he was feeling someone’s touch over his pants for the very first time, he had decided that he wasn’t sure he wanted to indulge. maybe it really was as wrong as he knew it to be. he shook his head.

“wait—“ he gasped, squirming on the wooden pew as his head tipped back slightly, his trembling fingers squeezing the edge of the surface under him, “wait, wait, i— oh—oh-!”

he was letting out noises then that made him sound like an innocent fawn, wailing out in a mix of confusion and pleasure and shame and fear as he felt his cock spasm and flood his underwear with an overwhelming warmth. despite his verbal hesitation, he had pushed his hips up hard into your touch as he orgasmed—grinding against it as the shocks of release stung the finger that wore the ring of silver. he could almost feel the metal burning into his skin amidst all of the overstimulating ecstasy that caused his thighs to quake. guilt radiated through all of his bones; seeping into his marrow.

he had sinned, fully and wholly. he was a sinner.

your touch dirtied him. infected him.

you had made him this way.

he was supposed to be good; a good person, a good son, a good follower.

but you had ruined it. all of it.

he’d never been prone to anger, but right then he had wanted to shout. he wanted to shove you away, get down on his knees, and begin repenting. mumbling pleas and apologies with his hands clasped together and his head hung, bowed in penance. his body weighed down by the heavy stone of his own culpability in the situation; the realization that he hadn’t done enough to refuse your attention.

but, in the end, he couldn’t find it in himself to deny his body the gratification of being so close to you. he was no longer worthy of god’s forgiveness anyways, so he turned his head and looked to your eyes, tears pooling in his own. they dripped down his flushed cheeks as he pulled ragged, greedy gasps of air into his lungs. his chest rattled as he cried. the feeling of the slimy wetness soaking into his underwear had only made the sting of reality more pitiful.

if he had looked like an angel before all of this, he surely was a fallen one now.

“…th-thank you, i'm sorry…” he sobbed softly, “i’m sorry.”

he didn't quite know who he was apologizing to.

it had only felt right.

#tw corruption #tw coercion #tw dubcon #cw religious themes #yay first small fic #i hope i portrayed his inner turmoil well enough bc i feel like itd be something he would rlly struggle with #all of the new feelings and all of the new emotions and the thought that someone he barely knew had put him in that position #poor thing #pastor’s son!art donaldson #asks.#fics.#art donaldson smut #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x you #challengers smut

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gingerpines · 5 months ago

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teen!caitvi AU drabble based on this art by me!

warning: i am not a writer! and english isn’t my first language! i hope this still makes sense :) its a bit messy its not very well explained sometimes but i hope i got the point across! enjoy!

Ekko was sent by benzo to deliver things at jayce’s workshop and vi and claggor join because ekko’s quite young to go on his own anyways, vi is like, acting as the bodyguard and shes looking all tough and mysterious making sure ekko is okay constantly

they knock and stand at the door, vi staying behind ekko to look around and jayce is like come in! bc they have quite a lot of things and while vi stands back still cautious, she completely drops her tough demeanor when she sees young cait tinkering with some of jayce’s stuff, goggles on. Vi tries to be discreet but her eyes keep darting back at Cait while ekko and jayce conclude business, claggor catches vi but doesnt say anything, and cait comes towards them, taking the goggles off, a big smile on her face.

"Nice to meet you all!" she goes in her thick british accent and she offers a handshake to Vi who doesnt know what to do with that so she kinda blushes and stares at cait, cait going "I’m Caitlyn!" and, embarrassed and flustered, vi just frowns and doesnt say anything, sorta turning around and caitlyn takes that VERY personally and from that point on she’s got beef with her and Vi kinda regrets how stupid she acted but tries not to think about it too much.

now everytime ekko has business in piltover, vi INSISTS on joining, saying its for safety but really its in the hopes she’ll run into caitlyn again. one time at a fair, benzo has a booth to sell things in piltover and ekko runs it, naturally, vi and the other kids join, Jayce and Caitlyn visit the booth and when cait sees Vi she just turns her head away with a frown, still upset at their last interaction and refusing to look at her, and Vi decides to tease her and ask about what theyre doing here. Cait kinda ignores her at first but ends up yapping about jayce’s and her’s latest experiments and shes talking sooo much and vi listens to all of it and when cait realized shes been talking too much they both kinda laughs and then jayce says they have to go so they leave and they smile at each other

throughout the fair Cait tries to “accidentally” walk in front of ekko’s booth again, and when she does, Vi is gone and she asks Ekko where she went and ekko shrugs, cait keeps walking around until she sees Vi walk around and cait joins her and they just kinda tease each other and argue the whole day but in a cute way but they both try to pretend they dont like the other bc they have such different lives and vi keeps calling cait entitled but she doesnt even mean it. From then on, Vi starts sneaking out to meet Cait outside her gate, but she has no idea how to get her attention, so she kinda sits there in the rain for a while until one of the dog starts barking, waking, thankfully, only Caitlyn up who looks out her bedroom window and goes outside to see little wet puppy vi standing at the gate and trying to make up an excuse as to why shes here like jayce forgot a tool from ekko and it was just easier to get it to her house instead and they end up talking until so late even tho its freezing outside, the gate still separating them, like the wall that socially separates them.

they start meeting up almost every week, like clockwork, outside of Cait’s house to talk, and for Cait to yap about things she likes while Vi listens. one day, Cassandra catches them and forbids Cait to see Vi again. They both cry themselves to sleep and Vander notices Vi’s change in mood after that, and asks her about it. she tells him everything and apologizes for lying and sneaking out but vander isnt upset, he hugs her and tells her theyre going to figure it out.

Vander decides to go talk to Cassandra at the next Piltover-Zaun event, Vi standing shyly behind Vander’s leg, Caitlyn standing straight next to Cassandra, both girls so excited to see each other again even tho its weird and awkward with their parents talking in front of them, Cassandra listens to Vander who’s putting on The Charm™️ and she eventually sighs and allows them to see each other bc she sees Vi isnt a menace

that day they both walk around Piltover, often almost holding hands but theyre too shy so they don’t, but Vi wants to show Cait she likes her but she doesnt know how to because they shouldnt and also because she doesnt know how to show love in a way that Caitlyn would understand. they walk around and its comfortably quiet this time, even tho theyre used to yapping and yapping for hours but this time they just want each other’s presence. at one point they walk through a tiny crowd and theres a small group of Zaunites laughing at them, at the contrast between their clothes and demeanors and they hear one of the boys call Caitlyn and a not-so-nice words like stuck up or worse, Vi isn’t even sure but she immediately knocks him down in one punch and Cait has absolutely no idea what to do or say but she then grabs Vi’s hand and they run away, when theyre safe away from that crowd, Caitlyn gets SOOO mad in her little british accent and Vi just sits, knuckles bloody, listening to Cait lecture her.

Eventually, cait calms down and looks down at Vi’s hands and sighs, starting to unwrap her bandages to check her wound muttering “You are such an idiot, Violet.” and Vi just smiles as Cait cleans her wounds.

bonus:

cait begging her mom to let her bring vi to one of the shooting tournaments and Vi joins and they have so much fun and cait lets vi try out her rifle and shes so bad and they laugh and caitlyn teaches her and theyre having a moment but cait’s parents interrupt and theyre blushing and being silly teenagers with a crush and they dont know how to deal with it. cait is definitely the one to fall first even tho she represses it bc vi is from zaun and thats not how she was raised, but she becomes closer with vi and vi realizes wayyyyy too late that she has a massive crush and also that cait is not being slick about it in the slightest. she talks about it with vander at the last drop she sits at the counter with her head in her hands like ughhhhhh i hate having a crush its so stupid and vander laughs

thank u for reading :))

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retiredteabag · 4 months ago

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learning together - Christmas Special

parental Gojo attempts to get Megumi in a Christmassy mood, it appears to be more of a challenge than he thought.

pt. 1

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

Ice crystalized the window of Satoru's Tokyo apartment, A thick dusting of snow laid atop the city below, and the house smelled distinctly of mulling spices and his favorite "sugar cookie" candle. But the teenage boy had a deep sense of dread when he remembered that he had no idea what his little pupil wanted for Christmas.

Typically, Satoru did not live with Tsumiki or Megumi; he paid for them to have their own place closer to their school. But with the end of the year came winter break, and a wide gap of time for the children to be home alone. That, and as he so often found himself saying these days,

"It's Christmas!!!!"

Tsumiki would giggle, and Megumi would roll his eyes. This phase had propagated into Satoru's vocabulary ever since the children's last day of class when Megumi had asked on the road out of school,

"Why do we have to go to your place? Can't we just stay at home?"

Tsumiki had glared harshly at the boy and nudged him to be quiet. But Megumi just furrowed his brows and softly whispered, "What?"

Satoru leaned back in the passenger seat of his car, an assistant had accompanied them because 1) Gojo doesn't like to drive, and 2) he wanted someone else to unpack all of the kid's stuff so they could spend that time settling in.

As it would later turn out, Megumi was closely attached to his backpack and refused to let anyone else touch it. Odd kid, that one.

Gojo had grinned then, "Becaauuuse" He began in a whining tone, "It's Christmas! You can't be all alone for the holidays!"

The little boy turned to look out the window, fog had accumulated so he could not view of the passing busy street, he avoided Gojo's covered gaze and squeezed his bag handle. "'M not alone. I've got Tsumiki." He mumbled, resting the crown of his head on the door.

Since then, every time Megumi made some negative comment, be it about: Satoru's overindulgence at cafes, the excessive decorating, or even his hyper attitude, Satoru would reply,

"Megumi, it's the Christmas season, be a little more jolly!"

But it seemed more evident as the days went by that Megumi did not have a jolly bone in his body. That, accompanied by his inability to come up with his wish list for Santa, Satoru was discouraged.

"Santa isn't real, Gojo." The boy would huff, rolling his eyes.

"How do you know that?" Gojo would pout, pointing out that at least his big sister humored him with the Santa stuff.

The boy would just pull his, 'are you really being serious right now' face and attempt to extricate himself from the conversation.

One day, after much time purchasing Sanrio toys, art supplies, lip glosses, new shoes, an adorable tea set, a bundle of DS games, and virtually any other gift he could imagine for Tsumiki, and stowing them away in one of his many walk-in closets, he called the young girl into the kitchen.

Megumi was reading in on of Gojo's guest rooms, avoiding everyone.

"Every time I ask him what he wants he just gets all grumpy and tells me not to get him anything..." Satoru confessed after thanking the girl for her willingness to make a list to Santa that included: A cute plushy or maybe new colored pencils?

Santa would pull through on her requests, of course, but Megumi hardly even said anything about food he enjoyed, let alone anything "unnecessary". Every time Satoru found something the boy might like, he got the image of an upset or disappointed Megumi and felt his stomach drop. The kid was hard to shop for, to say the least.

"He won't complain about anything! I promise, Gojo, he just... doesn't...like asking for things." Tsumiki smiled at her benefactor, so mature. From an outsider's perspective, it would seem as though a little girl was consoling a very oversized child who just fell on the playground and scraped his knee.

"But...Why?" Satoru groaned, looking to the girl for some idea of how to make the boy smile. It was Christmas for goodness sake. "I don't want him to 'not complain' I want him to get him something exciting, something he really wants."

Tsumiki twisted her mouth and twiddled her thumbs, "I think...hmm", she cut herself off, rethinking what she meant to say, "I think he already feels so indebted to you, you know? I think it would just upset him to ask for a present."

Satoru opened his mouth, only to close it a few times. He had no words. Why would a child, a boy who has practically just learned to read, feel as if he owes him something?

It was this event that caused Gojo to switch his mindset. If the boy refused to ask for something verbally, Satoru would use his innate talent of observation to deduce for himself what the boy wanted. He would unearth every little wish inside that emotionally constipated boy's heart.

A day later, Satoru found the kids on the floor in the living room, drawing together by the fireplace. Under closer inspection, it was clear why Tsumiki wanted new colored pencils. The ones she had been using in school were practically nubs, she had to hold them at an odd angle to be able to draw properly.

"Watcha dooooin'?" Satoru strolled into the living room, carrying bags of sweets and tissue paper.

"Drawing!" Tsumiki sang back. Her brother huffed and caged his arms around his sheet of paper. Trying to hide his drawing, he put his head down and scribbled some more.

"Ooooo! That's fun!" Satoru called out, tiptoeing to the master bedroom, "Don't let me bother you, I've got some top-secret Santa business to get up to-" Satoru spun around, turning this way and that in a comical show of 'spying', "You kids better stay out of my room!" He squinted at them, "It's never good to be nosy around Christmas!"

Tsumiki laughed and nodded at Gojo but Megumi made a face that showed clearly what a fool he thought the man was. What he didn't know, is that Satoru had real good eyes, and for the first time all week, he had an idea of how to get the boy in the Christmas spirit.

The image of Megumi's green crayon scrawled across a sketched pine tree stuck out in Satorus mind as he zipped up Tsumiki's coat. "C'mon Megs! The trees aren't gonna pick themselves!"

Megumi hurriedly called, "I'm coming! Just-ugh- gimmie one second!" as he fumbled with his shoe laces.

"Hey buddy, no rush, I can help." Satoru knelt down on the floor, still a head taller than the boy, he bent and tightened the laces.

The boy's eyes twitched, he had stumbled and clung to Gojo's shoulder for a moment before embarrassment flooded him and he huffed.

Satoru stood, patted the boy's head, and ushered them out the door.

On the eve of the big day, and for the first time, it was clear, Megumi was as excited as Tsumiki, though he tried to hide it, his spine was straight, he was wide awake, his hands tapped his lap unknowingly, and he kept puffing air in his cheeks, he could hardly wait to get to Christmas tree farm.

The boy was brimming with anticipation.

As much as Satoru wanted to follow the kids around, pestering them about what trees they liked, he decided to fall back, allowing them to meander and play amongst themselves. Although unspoken, Tsumiki had been trying to help Satoru in bringing her brother out of his shell. It hadn't really changed much outside of learning that the boy liked reading just a bit more than Gojo suspected.

"GOJO!! GOJO!!" The little girl eventually spun around and waved her arms around in the air. "LOOK! THI- This one-" She inhaled deeply, "Don't you think...it's nice?"

Megumi, who had privately been grinning with his sister just a moment prior, was now avoiding his benefactor's eyes, shifting his weight awkwardly while pretending to be occupied by the snow on his shoe.

"Nice? Oh, Miki, I think it's perfect!" He ran around the tree and came to the other side of them, "Only... Megumi? Do you think this one is right as well?"

Tsumiki stood by the tall man now, blinking at the boy expectantly.

"Mmm." He nodded after a second.

"'Mmm' yes? Or 'Mmm' 'let's find a different one'?"

"'Mmm' yes." He stood up straight and decided.

Satoru pumped his fist, "Whooooo! We got a Christmas tree! Oh boy! I can't wait to decorate! Good thing the farm has got some stuff, huh?"

By the time they had wrapped the tree to the top of a staff vehicle and acquired just about every ounce of tinsel and bows the little shop had, the children's noses were pink with cold and the sun was beginning to crest the horizon.

Not too long ago, Satoru had been feeling deep-seated dread around the Christmas atmosphere or lack thereof. Now, as he raced back to the car to start heating the seats, he had a spring in his step.

Satoru, surprisingly, was quite a good cook, unfortunately, they hadn't the time for a homecooked meal when they had important tree-decorating-business to attend to, so they ordered take out and got straight to work.

The three of them worked as a team to adorn the branches with twinkles of silver and velvet ribbon. Satoru had purchased far too many strands of lights so they set aside bunchs of them to decorate the kids rooms.

After taking a moment to back away, they all admired their diligent work. It was beautiful, all lit up and sparkling. Satoru had never felt so grown up. Buying a tree and decorating it himself.

After grinning to themselves, Satoru noticed. Oh, how had he forgotten? It's the most important part!

"The topper!" He groaned. "Ughhhh what are we gonna do...I guess I can go out and buy one..." He mumbled, he spun around, hoping to avoid any sighs of disappointment from the little ones. He looked at the clock on the wall and realized how late it was getting.

Tomorrow was Christmas. Everything was closed. Satoru was just about to suggest making one of their own when Tsumiki spoke up.

"Umm... Gojo... Megumi has something to say." She poked at him with her shoe.

There was a long pause before he spoke, "Well....".

But then he was rushing from the living room. Trapsing his way back to the bedroom he was staying in. Satoru felt awful. He wanted everything to feel like a family event.

"What... was that?" The white haired man began, "Is he... that upset?"

Tsumiki didn't even have time to disagree before the boy was racing from the threshold again, this time, something behind his back. He was huffing and puffing with the effort of his speed.

"What've you got there Megs?" The boy still had his hands behind his back. He looked a bit strange with his elbows bent all weird.

"We can... just use this." He spoke so lowly, it was as though he was ashamed. "If we haven't got anything else."

Imagine Satoru's surprise when the boy, who had been the grinch incarnate since day one, brought out a glass star tree topper. It seemed as though it had been hand painted, perhaps a school project. When did Megumi get this?

It took a moment before the oldest of the three spoke, this seemed to discourage Megumi and he was about to hide it once more, saying, "We don't need to... it's not very good."

"NO!" Both Satoru and the boy's sister practically screeched. "NOT VERY GOOD???" Satoru basically flung himself to his knees to get a better look. His glasses had long since been on his head, but he yanked them off, as though they might obstruct the boy's creation. "IT"S GORGEOUS!"

"You're over doing it..." The boys brows were furrowed. Satoru knew the kid was trying to play it off as if he wasn't happy with the older boy, but Megumi's lips were twitching.

"This!" Satoru tilted his nose to the ceiling, "Is the finest of tree toppers! I do declare! How dare you keep this from us! This is what we've needed all along."

That night, Megumi would lay in bed, recalling how it felt to be lifted so high, setting his little star atop the tree. His teacher in the week prior had loudly told the class to hang up their stars with their family over Christmas break. There was a strange giddiness he felt knowing he was able to use it. To know it was hung up, not hidden in his school bag.

That morning Satoru had woken the kids up early, skipping into their bedrooms to announce that Santa had come in the night.

"Wow. Santa sure does like cookies..." Megumi almost smiled as he pointed out that the sweets on the counter from the days before were nearly gone.

"Right you are Megumi! I like how you think, we'll need to get more!"

Gojo watched as the kids opened their numerous gifts. The both of them seemed quite uncomfortable with the stacks they had laid out at first. Tsumiki jumped with joy after opening the smallest box, a designer set of colored pencils along with a new sharpener. And that, more than anything, made her little brother smile.

Megumi, however, had a harder time accepting his gifts. Christmas evening, after opening new clothing to grow into, book after book, dog toys, and much more. He found himself watching Satoru from the living room as his sister played games on her DS.

"Whatcha lookin' at Megs?"

Satoru hadn't even peered up from the dish sink, but he knew Meg's had been eyeing him.

"Nothing." Megs turned away and watched Tsumiki reach a new level.

Oddly, he felt like crying. Did he not want it to end? Did he feel guilty? Did he wish he had gotten something else? No, he knew it wasn't any of that.

And then it struck him. This felt an awful lot like a family... it hurt him deep in his stomach and sent pricks to his eyes. Satoru, of course, could tell something was brewing in the boy but he just couldn't get him to say anything.

It wasn't until Gojo was tucking Megumi in for the night, (for the very first time) that he asked.

"Well Megs, was it a good Christmas?"

The boy just nodded and pulled the duvet to his nose.

"Did Santa do a good job, or was there something else you were wishing for?"

The thought struck the boy as insulting.

"No. It was seriously too much, Gojo."

"Hey, kid, don't blame me, that was alllllllll the big guy."

"So were all those cookies going missing..." Megs rolled his eyes.

"Now you're getting it." Satoru decided not to push his luck with patting the boys head and lifted himself to his full height. "Well..." he rolled his head over too the door, "I'm going to go say good night to your sister."

It was at this precise moment, just as Satoru was leaving, that Megumi had a wave pass over him. He tried to sit up but it was too much. He forced the words out, shutting his eyes.

"I wish you would s-stay."

After he said it he breathed a huge sigh, as if it was the most challenging thing he's done.

"What was that?" Gojo's eyes were huge, confused. He sped over to the boys bed, kneeling once more, "What did you say?"

It was too hard to get out again. Megumi just shrugged and felt blood fill his cheeks.

"Did you ask me to stay?" Satoru seemed to chase the boys eyes with his head, leaning over into Megumi's space. "Do you mean here? Or... with you? You and Tsumiki?"

Megumi tugged his comforter to his nose once more, hiding the majority of his face. "With us. Like this."

Years later, Megumi would groan every time he would recall this moment, but for now, it was just for Satoru and him, and his warm toned desk lamp.

"Hey, kid, I'm not goin' anywhere."

Satoru smiled but Megumi wouldn't meet his eye.

"'Cause it's Christmas?"

Satoru's smile widened and this time, he did pat Megumi's head.

"Nah, 'cause I don't want to."

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222col · 4 days ago

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BOT DUMP by @ 222col °❀⋆

norman fucking rockwell! - lana del rey ᯓ★

꒰ notes ꒱ ft challengers & obx characters 𖤓 thank u to those have been patient with me during my break, lotta love for u all <3 any feedback is welcomed!!!

JJ MAYBANK

𖤓 ( norman fucking rockwell )

𓇼 you and jj were best friends. always had been. but lines had been crossed, and suddenly he was barely paying you any mind outside his bedroom. fed up of his childish behaviour, you call him on his bullshit at the boneyard.

RAFE CAMERON

𖤓 ( mariners apartment complex )

𓇼 rafe's sweet girl. never could you believe that he was your rafe that shot peterkin, you'd stuck by him through it all. only when he fucks up and confesses in front of you do you realise who he is.

ART DONALDSON

𖤓 ( venice bitch )

𓇼 art's enjoying college life, biggest name on campus thanks to his famous pop star girlfriend. living it up at frat parties, and only occasionally riling up his very possessive girlfriend. when you come back from tour to surprise him,and find him between two girls, it was never going to end well.

TASHI DUNCAN

𖤓 ( fuck it i love you )

𓇼 four years since you'd seen the girl you once loved. tashi had promised to keep in touch, stay friends, but you hadn't heard from her since the breakup. out celebrating another tournament win, and she sees the one she loves.

TASHI DUNCAN

𖤓 ( doin' time )

𓇼 you loved her so bad, and she treated you like shit. tashi never let you put a label on it, despite how often she called you her girlfriend, she'd never make it official. time to give her a taste of her own medicine.

RAFE CAMERON

𖤓 ( love song )

𓇼 rafe has always cared more about his image than anything else, and that carried through to his relationship. in reality, he could barely care about you. just the looks that he got when he was with you. prettiest girl on the island, and you were all his.

PATRICK ZWEIG

𖤓 ( cinnamon girl )

𓇼 you were retiring, from your life as a famous band-aid. too many broken promises from musicians, too many boys wasting your time thinking you were just some groupie. one final show, and that's when you spot him. up-and-coming lead guitarist, patrick zweig. retirement was never going to last long. ( almost famous (2000) au )

JJ MAYBANK

𖤓 ( how to disappear )

𓇼 jj could never admit you weren't his anymore, ask anyone and he'd say you were still his girl. whether you had a new boyfriend or not, his answer remained the same. despite the new boy on your arm, you can't help but run back to him.

PATRICK ZWEIG

𖤓 ( california )

𓇼 patrick was finally back in town for off season, months after the breakup. that didn't stop him from spending the whole time with you though. time moves too quickly, and suddenly he's by the door ready to leave you again.

JJ MAYBANK

𖤓 ( the next best american record )

𓇼 pogues were starting to get noticed, touring around the us on their first headline tour. but you and jj were still focused on writing the perfect song. everyone could see it was more than that, the two of you spent every minute together, saying it was all for the song. until jj realises, it's not about the song at all.

PATRICK ZWEIG

𖤓 ( the greatest )

𓇼 things were perfect, then patrick goes off to the junior us open and you never hear from him again. it took art and tashi doing the same to him to realise, you were the greatest loss of them all. when he sees your name on the list of coaches at the tennis club he's playing a challenger at, he realises he can't let you slip away again.

JJ MAYBANK

𖤓 ( bartender )

𓇼 the only thing that got jj through his shifts at the country club, was his favourite little kook sitting pretty waiting for the drinks he made. he's playing the long game, desperate to be the one who taints your prissy lifestyle. so when he hears you've been blown off from a kook party, he's waiting to swoop in.

RAFE CAMERON

𖤓 ( happiness is a butterfly )

𓇼 you'd heard the rumours about rafe, about what he did to peterkin and god knows how many others, even before the two of you started sleeping together. you never knew the truth, but seeing your situationship covered in blood when he picks you up answers every question you had.

ART DONALDSON

𖤓 ( hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have - but i have it )

𓇼 art had never had his faith tested, never in the way you were testing him. two weeks staying at his house, in your silk nightgown that he couldn't get out of his mind no matter how hard he tried. when you come knocking on his door when you can't sleep, even god couldn't stop him saying come in.

꒰ taglist ꒱ @khartalks @funkycoloured @bluestrd @appleaali @donteventry-itdude @gublerstylesobrien1238 @peachyparkerr @stanart4clearskin @chrattvibe @tacobacoyeet @lexiiscorect @glassmermaids @voidsuites @matchpointfaist @s0ftcobra @artaussi @simmerinsauce @coolgrl111 @hrrysglitter @cinnamoncunt @elsieblogs @tennisthatcher @deeninadream @magicalmiserybore @soulxinxthexsky @sohighitscool @4jjsbank (to be added)

#divider by daddldee #challengers #outer banks #obx #art donaldson #patrick zweig #tashi duncan #rafe cameron #jj maybank #bot #bot maker #c.ai #character ai #mike faist #josh o'connor #zendaya #drew starkey #rudy pankow #lana del rey

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just-j-really · 1 month ago

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So I've been rotating this idea in my brain since December. It is WIDLY out of season but I am posting anyway. Time has no power over me.

Dream as the boyfriend who gets dumped 90% of the way through the Hallmark movie. Dream is, even in his own mind, this arrogant, moody guy who's a little too obsessed with his job (very high up in the publishing industry). He's not entirely sure how he managed to convince Hob, who's this cheerful, bouncy extrovert and has essentially been Dream's personal Manic Pixie Dream Boy the entire time they've known each other, to go on a SINGLE date with him, let alone be his boyfriend.

And Hob always goes home to see his family for like two weeks at Christmas, it's super important to him. Dream can't afford to be away from work for that long but says Hob should go before him, he'll be there for Christmas itself. Only, the day before Hob's supposed to leave, Dream stands him up for a dinner date (he was at work) and they get in a huge fight about it. The air between them is still very frosty as Hob packs his things and leaves the next morning.

And then Dream spends the next few days with his social media being just. Flooded with pictures of Hob doing Hallmark Christmas activities. He's clearly having a great time. This woman keeps popping up in his photos, and they look so happy together, covered in snow from a snowball fight, sipping hot chocolate at a crowded bar, one video someone else must have taken of them chasing each other around a skating rink, laughing so hard they crash into each other and fall over. Between the photos and the fact that Hob's still texting Dream this whole time, Dream puts together that this is Eleanor, Hob's childhood best friend who he lost touch with when her family moved away unexpectedly.

Hob's talked to Dream about Eleanor before, how close they were and how horrible it was that he never got a chance to say goodbye, or figure out a way to stay in touch (she had super strict parents). Dream has always kinda suspected that there was a layer of 'mutual first crush, but neither of us were really sure where to go from there and the whole thing got brutally ripped out from under us before we could figure it out' to the whole situation as well.

And here they are. They've found each other again, against all odds, they're so clearly happy together, and Eleanor's doing all this fun exciting stuff with Hob that Dream would only be a huge grump about. By the time Dream goes to meet up with Hob, he's already got a whole story in his head of how this is going to go: Hob will tell him he's found someone much better for him and dump him, as Dream deserves.

So when he approaches Hob's parents’ house at like 7pm on December 23rd, and finds Hob and Eleanor talking quietly on the porch, he's just resigned, and fully expecting to end up standing there and watching while they have a Hallmark-movie snow-gently-falling kiss.

Instead, Hob looks up, notices Dream, and immediately just BARRELS into him and hugs him so hard his feet lift off the ground, and before he's really processed that he's the one getting the snow-covered, end-of-the-movie, I-missed-you-so-much kiss. Hob's incredibly enthusiastic and smiling too hard to kiss him properly, and eventually they both wind up in a snowdrift.

And Dream’s just. Not entirely processing as Eleanor greets him (and seems genuinely happy to meet him). And then Hob introduces him to his parents (and they seem happy to meet him, too). And everyone’s acting like he's a wanted part of this gathering, and they're so happy he was able to make it, and Hob's gotten them tickets for some community theater Christmas Carol thing because he knows how much Dream likes earnest-if-amateur art… And a few hours later Dream and Hob are cuddled together on a couch with coco doing some excessively cute Christmas Activity. Wrapping the last few presents while a Christmas movie plays quietly in the background or something. Eleanor has gone home, Hob's parents have gone to bed, so it's just them when Hob softly thanks him for being able to make it at all, and apologizes for the way he left things.

And none of this is how the story is supposed to go.

And I think Dream just breaks down, and Hob's eventually able to get the whole ‘I assumed you'd want to break up with me and date your obvious One True Love, I am terrible’ story out of him.

And there is a certain amount of genuinely upset ‘ok it hurts that you think I think something so horrible about you’ from Hob. But he pretty quickly figures out that no, Dream’s self-esteem is actually that low; he genuinely thinks ‘so terrible that you'd be morally correct to cheat on him’ is just. An objective fact about himself.

Which leads to Hob being like “You realize I'm dating you on purpose, right? I like how passionate you are about your job. I like your confidence. I like that you keep me grounded.” And basically just runs down all these traits Dream assumes are his own flaws, only Hob’s talking about them like they’re desirable. As though Dream is his happily-ever-after perfect love.

So, just for a moment, Dream lets himself believe that he could be. And it gets easier and easier to believe as the welcome he received from Hob’s family and friends just continues for the rest of his visit, as he’s easily brought in to assorted Charming Hallmark Christmas Activities and realizes Hob was specifically saving the activities he thought Dream would like for when Dream would be there, as he and Hob return to their normal lives in the Big City and Hob is still happy to be with him, still willing to resolve whatever conflicts come up instead of just giving up.

(And he finds it very easy to believe on New Year’s Eve, when Hob goes for an absolutely over-the-top grand gesture stroke of midnight proposal.)

#dreamling

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strwbrychffoncke · 3 months ago

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"—baby take off my clothes cause i got somethin' to show ya,, 1.9k words ⸺ event masterlist synopsis: your plan to make rafayel stay with you a little longer before his newest art exhibition works a little too well.... contains: nsfw! lnds rafayel x afab!reader ,mc!reader ,reader is wearing a dress ,teasing (giving) ,u get carried ,kissing ,making out ,marking ,biting ,missionary(?) ,needy!raf ,kinda whiny!raf ,overstimulation (brief) ,creampie ,some cute fluff afterglow ,implied cunnilingus ,thomas cameo at the end lmao ,think thats it note: (mostly edited pls standby....) released much later than i intended but i had sm trouble writing but we somehow prevailed..........

"do you really have to go, raf?"

he lets out a long sigh, strokes from the paintbrush light and airy on the canvas in front of him.

"i already told you that you should come with me."

"but i want you to stay here with me," you almost whine, wrapping your arms around his neck from behind and leaning forward, pressing you body against his.

his breath stutters ever so slightly at your clinginess, heart picking up its speed in his chest.

"and besides...."

you rest your head on his shoulder, lips just centimeters away from his ear.

"isn't this a little much for an art exhibition?"

your voice is a hushed whisper, the sheer sound and feeling of it sending sparks through rafayel's entire body.

he's long since lost interest in his current piece, vouching to save it for later as he feels you unravel your arms and step back to give him room to turn around.

and rafayel feels his breath hitch at the sight before him.

its nothing extravagant, but maybe the simplicity of it is what stirs something up inside of him: you're wearing a silk pink slip dress, the color resembling a seashell you once found on the beach and gifted to rafayel, for good luck you'd said with a smile— and he feels like he was feeling that look right this moment, being able to look at you like this).

the neckline is just low enough for some cleavage to peek through, the top part hugging your breasts so nicely, simple crystal-like ornaments embellishing the outline (reminding him of the way light reflects off of the ocean's surface) while the bottom accentuates your waist and falls perfectly around your hips, ending just above your ass— if you so much as bent over slightly, you'd easily flash someone.

"'too much?'" rafayel mumbles your words back to you, hands reaching out to grab a hold of your hips.

"if you ask me, this is too little."

you can't help but let a laugh slip as he pulls you closer, hands pinching and caressing the silk of the fabric hugging your hips, gaze roaming up your body before making eye contact with you.

"no way am i letting anyone else see you in this."

his eyes are narrowed but his expression resembles a pout as he holds you close against him.

ah, there was that possessive side of him.

you laugh again in amusement, short and sweet, hands moving up to cover his momentarily before slowly trailing up his arms then up to hold his face, one of his hands shooting up to wrap around your wrist, turning his head towards it and planting a kiss directly onto the pulse point.

you pull him closer towards you, leaning down just slightly as if you had some special secret reserved for his ears only (despite the studio being occupied by only you both).

"then take it off."

in the next second, you capture his lips with yours, and as rafayel kisses back with equal and slowly growing fervor, the last thing on his mind is the art exhibition he's supposed to be attending in a little under an hour.

rafayel thinks you must've cast some sort of spell on him

since the very first time he met you to this life, you've had him wrapped around your finger without even trying— the sea god, folding to your every will.

sometimes, he thinks you forget the sheer amount of power you hold over him.

you don't know when exactly he's carried you to his bedroom, but you feel the soft mattress beneath you as he continues devouring your lips, legs wrapped around his waist to keep him close as his hands roam over your body and slowly begin sliding the silk straps of your cute dress down, eager to free your breasts. he doesn't waste a second in leaning down to kiss and mark one, sucking hard on the nipple while squeezing and prodding the other in his warm hand.

"hah, raf—ah—"

your hands bury themselves in his unkempt hair, tugging at his lavender locks, pleasured sounds filling the room as rafayel switches to the neglected one, swirling his tongue around the bud, taking his time marking your tits in pretty bruises and bites.

after a couple of minutes he releases the mound with a pop, pulling back slightly, hair a mess and panting, taking in the sight of you.

he leans up towards your face once more. "you're terrible, y'know?" he mumbles against your lips before stealing kiss after kiss from them. "invading my mind like this... look what you do to me, princess."

he pins your wrists against the mattress, swallowing your whines when he bucks his hips between your thighs— against your dampening panties.

patience wearing thin, he leans back to his full height, ridding himself of his pants and freeing his hard, leaking length from their confines.

you feel your mouth water at the sight, wanting nothing more than to be filled of him completely.

rafayel smirks at the sight, stroking himself a few times before grabbing you by the ankles and pulling you impossibly closer, groaning at your choice of panties— a thong-shaped one with lace, color matching your dress— sliding them down your legs and tossing them to the floor. he grabs hold of your thighs, spreading you open, hiking one of your legs over his shoulder and holding it there with one hand, other aligning himself with your leaking entrance.

"ready, princess?"

he doesn't wait for your answer.

with a single thrust, he buries himself completely inside of you, immediately moaning at the feeling of your walls hugging him tight at the sudden intrusion and growing more aroused at the moan you let out, back arching off the bed and gripping the sheets tight.

already impatient, his hips quickly form a rhythm, throwing his head back and panting into the air of the room, pleasure heightened by hearing your sweet whines and groans.

"sl-slow, slow down, raf—"

"can't— you can take it, can't you? the way you're— ahh— squeezing me tells me en-ough—"

his voice is strained and god he sounds so needy despite being the one on top, and he is— he can never get enough of you; no matter how much time you spend together, its never enough.

he's been patient, so patient, and every day with you is a blessing and a curse because he always wants more.

and you can feel it in the way he's thrusting into you, beads of sweat forming on his body, hotly panting and whining as you squeeze his cock because he always felt too good to imagine.

you think he's a bad influence. his neediness has rubbed off on you.

but he's more than willing to give every part of himself to you in every way you desire.

"ah—!"

"that feel good, princess? there?"

he pries the leg against the mattress wider, granting him more space between you as he continues hitting the same spot within you that seemed to make you flutter around him.

at this point, he knew your body and mind exceptionally well, making his mark on you in every way that he could.

"you feel too good, too good— hah, ahh— should buy you more of those pretty dresses, yeah?"

you huff out a laugh that's quickly cut off by a moan, throwing your head back deeper into the mattress, hands flying up to grip his strong arms hard as you feel yourself coming undone.

"close— so close, rafa-yel, please—"

"gonna— hah— cum inside, ah—"

your arms reach up around his neck again, pulling him closer to kiss him.

your tongues dance to their own tune as his hips slam into yours, and with some final particularly hard thrusts you gush around his cock, breaking the kiss as you cry out in pleasure.

rafayel lets your thigh down in favor of leaning his body against yours, keeping you in place as his lips trail down your jawline towards your neck, sucking marks into the sensitive skin as he chases his own orgasm.

"too— much, too much, raf—"

you're whining into his ear, sensitive from your orgasm, overstimulation intense, legs wrapping around his waist and tugging him impossibly closer against you to try to ground yourself in any way.

"so good, so good, princess, i'm gonna cum—"

with a couple more thrusts and a harsh bite to your shoulder, he spills himself inside of you, cry escaping your lips at the sensation of his teeth as his warmth fills you.

he rides out his high with a few more languid thrusts, planting soft kisses against his marks on your neck and shoulder before his movements completely cease.

neither of you speaks for a long moment, only holding each other close as you both catch your breath.

you rake your hands through his messy hair (courtesy of you), giggling as he pushes into your touch, eyes flitting up to you.

"so needy," you jest with a little smile.

rafayel lets out a scoff, lifting his head to look at you properly.

"says the cutie that was vying for my attention," a teasing smile tugs at his lips. "it seems i'm rubbing off on you," he proclaims, all too smugly.

"you're a bad influence," you huff, pinching his cheek.

"your bad influence," he winks and you roll your eyes, reaching to peck the same cheek you pinched.

you both stare at each other for another long moment before the artist moves to get off of you, standing at his full height, holding your thighs as he slowly pulls out, rubbing them in an act of comfort when you let out a small whimper at the loss.

"hey," you breathe out, lifting yourself up onto your elbows. "aren't you going to be late?" you tilt your head, remembering the reasoning behind this passionate night in the first place.

he lowers himself to the ground, face level with your heat, watching the globs of cum drip and stain the sheets below. he can feel himself get hard again at the sight as his hands give your thighs a gentle squeeze, planting a kiss on the inside of one before his dark gaze meets yours.

"who says i'm still going?"

epilogue:

thomas called the familiar number for what felt like the upteenth time that evening, trying not to lose his mind outside of the venue where more and more guests began showing up.

"where the hell is he???"

by the time and hour had passed since the designated time of arrival, thomas had already baked up some half-assed excuse as to why rafayel wouldn't be showing his face at yet another exhibition.

thomas lets out a frustrated sigh once he gets the chance to take another breather.

"at least i have the paintings," he mumbles to himself, swirling the glass of champagne in his glass as he fishes out his phone from his pocket to check for any update.

1 new message.

he unlocks his phone to check it out, and in the next second, he's gripping it so hard he thinks he might crack the screen.

"oops left my phone off thx for covering for me"

the animated sticker that accompanies the message does nothing to quell his frustrations as he shoves his phone back into his pocket without bothering to answer and downing the champagne in one go.

he makes his way back inside, deciding he'll need a lot more than just one glass tonight.

a/n: why is rafayel so hard to write for i have to scroll through art to get inspo but i love him very much :x

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