#without kel it’s not the same

[crowbasils]

havign cactiflorwer thgouhtrs……..

[hihiimmimi]

You know what *posts omori fanart without context*

[radialarch]

keep thinking about tkem/ninefox gambit fusion purely on the strength of jo yeong being the most kel kel imaginable but lee gon is obviously a nirai and you can't have a compelling plot without a shuos

[minkieater]

carousel – choi san ☄. *. ⋆

p. choi san x fem!reader g. non idol au, college boy!san w. smut minors dni PLS, alcohol consumption, smut is kinda kinky, toxic relationship, uhh san rocks you suck an. hello please don't be mad at me this had to happen for the lore, i also had to name you, apologies, if you share a name with shawty then congrats! if you've read luck you'll see some familiar stuff here, feel free to let me know anything you pick up on heheheh but seriously pls don't be mad at me wc. 10.7k

♫ – tear you apart, she wants revenge “it's only just a crush, it'll go away, it's just like all the others it'll go away or maybe this is danger and he just don't know”

cycle (sī-kel) noun a course or series of events or operations that recur regularly and usually lead back to the starting point

choi san regularly bounced between two moods. 

the first being a state of contentment, the second being complete and utter destruction. when he was content, the two of you were usually on good terms, and he felt good enough that he could keep his life on track. he could get his work done, he could go to classes, he could socialize with his peers with a smile on his face. 

when that peace was disturbed, more often than not by you, he was an absolute train wreck. all he could think about was you you you and when the two of you would fix things, if the two of you were really done this time, if he could reconcile the situation. sitting in class, remembering choreography at practice, being behind the bar at work… he couldn’t do a damn thing right. it wouldn’t be surprising if he forgot his own name when you were on bad terms. 

san has never been a fighter. when arguments arise he’s usually never the one that starts them, he’s the one begging to end them, opting for a peaceful compromise instead. despite the way he looks, san is a softie, something that took you by surprise and kept you by his side for almost a year.

you know him. you know his favorite color, his favorite show, his favorite album, his parents’ names, where he grew up, why he’s in school, who’s putting him through school, his biggest fear, his dream in life. you see how he looks at you, how he drops everything for you in a second, how he talks about you when you aren’t around to defend yourself. you know him better than you know yourself sometimes — you’ve been two peas in a pod since the beginning of your sophomore year, but yet the same question remains. one he’s asked you hundreds of times, one you could never find an answer to without breaking his heart. 

so instead you pick fights, argue to your heart’s content, damn near terrorize him on the regular just for the same fact to be true: choi san also knows everything about you. 

he knows exactly why you aren’t together, why you beat around the bush every time he asks you that same question, the sole reason why you freak the fuck out every time he asks you to give him just a little bit more. choi san knows very well that his love is unrequited, and he understands even the things you won’t tell him. he knows who you really love, he knows you’ve loved him since the summer before your freshman year, when you met at that concert. he notices when your eyes are the brightest, who you’re looking at when he wished you were looking at him, when you laugh the loudest. he notices everything.

if he’s anything, it’s observant. he’s been hanging out with you and your friends since way before he was your little secret, he’s been on your friends’ rooftop for parties more times than he can count. the first time the two of you slept together he couldn’t believe it was actually happening, the second you looked at him with lowered eyes and glossy lips he thought his eyes had been deceiving him for months prior. you looked at him like he was your last meal, your prey that you caught with your bare hands, you needed to have him or you’d die of starvation. he let you take the reins, took it all in with open arms, he wasn’t going to question a thing. for how long you had been obsessed with chan, he’d been obsessed with you. 

you’d met early in your freshman year, when chan had first gotten his apartment shared with three others, when they first started throwing their legendary parties that had been the talk of campus for ages to follow. san had gotten the invite through wooyoung, his best friend, whose close friend has dated chan’s roommate since freshman year. the moment he first saw you was nothing short of a movie scene, you were on the dance floor, definitely one too many drinks deep. you were dancing with felix, holding his hand, twirling your hair as he spun you in a circle. your smile, your eyes that were shut so delicately, your body that moved with such a fluidity, you were the embodiment of freedom. you looked like you couldn’t care less about anything, like the moon went down and the sun came up just so you could breathe another day. the world revolved around you. it was like everything he had ever done in his life leading up to this moment, each decision he made was to get him on this rooftop at this moment in the middle of soho. 

san had a few drinks himself and found himself on the dance floor right beside you. minho was with him, a close friend from his dance class, and then felix beside you. he couldn’t help but steal you for himself. he brought out the dancer inside of him but still followed your lead, spun you himself just as felix had, let your backside dance across his front one too many times for comfort. you picked up on how he was holding back, letting himself match you instead of taking the lead, and you couldn’t ignore how it sparked your interest. anyone besides felix that wasn’t in your group of close friends would be mindlessly grinding against you with an eyebrow raised and a smirk, but not him. 

for a moment you let yourself think the bar is deep in hell, then you introduced yourself (more like screamed your name at him) over the pounding music that could be heard two blocks down. the first thing you noticed were his broad shoulders before you took in the rest of his clearly strong build. complex, fox-like eyes that held too much power in them and a sweet smile that contrasted his hard demeanor, it all vexed you, but intrigued you so much more. 

out of everything, his hands give you the most whiplash. where they were long and limber they felt soft and warm, even the calluses on his palms somehow felt softer than every man you’ve ever come in contact with. compared to his chest which felt hard and strong, the contradicting features forced your mind straight in the gutter. there’s no doubt he’s beautiful, anyone could see that from first glance, but in that deep, hypnotizing voice he has, you could hear what kept itself hidden. it was a facade, that build and sexy voice, you could tell just from a few words that he’s not what he appears to be. 

at first glance you’d assume he was just like any typical guy, buff and egotistical and harsh. but looking for a moment in those eyes, listening to that soft voice, you could hear what he wasn’t saying, like his thoughts were being displayed for you on a silver platter. they enticed you to dig deeper, peel him open layer by layer, find out what no one else knows. beyond warm hands and a sturdy build, there was a softness to him that wasn’t inside of any other man on that rooftop. except one other. 

by the end of the night, minho had led san to the notorious smoking corner, where he’d come to learn the same people tend to gather and hangout towards the end of the night. thankfully, one of those people was you, and the rest of your little group of friends that he’d later come more than acquainted with. none of you really smoke, which was the weird part, the smokers would come and go around your seating area, but it was still named the smoking corner despite it. 

“you said your name was san, right?” you asked, an inviting smile on your face as he sat down right next to you on one of the cushioned chairs. it happened to be the only one open and had him thanking a god he didn’t believe in for the small favor. 

he nodded quickly, tight lipped smile on his face, dimples on display. even with the liquor he was nervous, he wasn’t one to spark up conversation, especially at a party like this. “you’re a dancer?”

“how’d you know?” your smile somehow got bigger, eyes widening with surprise, “i’ve danced my whole life.”

he shrugs, “one dancer to another.”

“you go to NYU?” you asked, turning your body to face him in your own chair.

“dance program, i’m in the same hip hop class as minho,” he pointed to minho who was standing somewhere to the side of the two of you. 

“ah,” you nod with a smile, “that makes sense, i’m in the theater program, i originally wanted to be in the dance program, though.”

“hey guys,” the two of you looked up at the same time, another pair of broad shoulders, massive biceps, and a beautiful smile staring straight at you. you could feel your heart rate pick up, your breath get caught in your throat, a heat cascading over you like the rooftop had suddenly raised fifteen degrees. 

san could feel his smile leave his face as he watched the scene unfold in front of him. the way your eyes lit up, the pink that raised to your cheeks, how you slightly stumbled over your words when you first spoke to him, he tried not to let his expression drop to a scowl. he knows you like him, maybe even love him, he couldn’t decide from the short interaction between the three of you. not that he wanted to know, anyways. 

san decided then and there that chan was his enemy, a one sided war he was willing to put up the good fight for. from a quick dance and a conversation, he had decided you were worth the fight, you were worth the long game, you were worth whatever it took to get you. he thinks it shouldn’t be too hard to win you over, with some effort and consistency, he should be the one you look at the way he desperately wants you to in no time. he knew he was good looking, he sees how women fawn over him left and right at parties, only sometimes letting them get any further then silly attempts to take him home. that ping of jealousy only jumpstarts his motivation, begs him to tap into whatever is making these women throw themselves at him.  

five parties and three months later, you made him feel like he was in the lead. small conversations here and there, longer dances that with each party turned more and more scandalous, once or twice you clearly felt him behind you on the dance floor and you didn’t pull away, you kept going until you made it so evident he couldn’t hide it in his jeans. moments of hands brushing and stolen glances across the smoking corner, he waited long enough, but he’d wait however long it took for you.

the night when you gave him that look that he knew meant you were taking him home, he couldn’t contain his excitement, he couldn’t hide anything from you already. you could see it all over his face, he could tell from the smirk you wore on your own lips and the cocky laugh you let out. you were playing with fire, and his specialty was water.

you knew he wanted you from the first time you met. whether he knew it about himself or not, despite his easygoing words and soft hands, you knew there was a side to him you desperately needed to unveil, you needed to experience, you needed to know like the back of your hand. it felt like tainting his innocence the more you got to know him, his personality reflected the opposite of what he portrayed on the outside. from that hard, chiseled look he has to the soft, tender persona, you wanted to tear him apart. you wanted to know what made him tick, what pissed him off, what got under his skin, how he acted when it did. 

you had him exactly where you wanted him, and he was letting it happen, fully aware of the attraction that was finally being returned. you looked at him differently that night, and unbeknownst to him, it was deliberate.

chan was out of sight, off with some dark haired girl he met hours prior. you watched the scene unfold in front of you, from when they exchanged names and phone numbers down to the moment when chan took her hand and led her inside his apartment. you watched them over heads through the dance floor, keeping your vision focused on the two of them like some fucked up form of tunnel vision. like what they say about trainwrecks, you should look away, but for some reason you can’t. your skin was burning, you were beyond angry, feeling an emotion that laid somewhere outside of what you’d ever experienced toward him. betrayal? abandonment? treachery?

none of your feelings were valid, chan had no idea how you felt, you never told him. he was more than allowed to take whatever dark haired bitch he wanted into his own damn apartment that seungmin’s dad pays for, that’s more than permissible. you have an apartment too, one that you and your roommate pay for yourselves, one that you could also take someone back to. your life didn’t revolve around him, his actions would not determine how your night would go, despite the feelings you have for him.

that’s when choi san caught your eye, across the crowd with his gorgeous face and incredible body. you felt the light bulb flash above your head, you knew exactly what would take the edge off, what would mend the heart chan had just broken in two. 

“you know, we always hangout here, but we never see each other outside of these parties,” you flipped your hair over your shoulder, looking up at him through your eyelashes. 

“never thought you wanted to,” he shrugs, lowered eyes watching your every move like he was waiting for the switch to flip.

“and why wouldn’t i want to? have you looked in a mirror recently?” it felt lame when it left your mouth, he didn’t seem to agree as a faint blush crept onto his cheeks. he turned away from you, a low chuckle leaving his lips.

“every morning at the gym, gotta make sure my form is right,” his shy smile turned into a faint smirk, and your own grows, hints of mischief creeping at the corners. you knew exactly what he was doing, mentioning the gym. like a moth to a flame, your eyes glazed over his biceps, which he flexed the moment your eyes left his. 

“every morning? very disciplined, aren’t you?” you ask, smile turning lopsided and nothing short of flirty. 

“very,” he nodded his head, “you should come with me sometime, get you some discipline, too.”

“and what about me makes you think i’m not disciplined?” your eyebrows furrow, tilting your head.

with that question his smile grows, dimples showing themselves once more. “brats always need discipline, and that’s exactly what you are. a little tease.”

your smile displays all of your teeth, exactly the answer you were hoping for. the side you knew he had in him, that version of him not many get to see, excitement flooded through you like a tidal wave. you were on a power trip, your plan worked with ease, you wanted to pat yourself on the back. 

“do something about it,” you sipped your drink through your tiny straw, staring at him through your lashes once again. 

within thirty minutes you were back at your place in manhattan, your roommate still at the party, you didn’t even let her know you left. in that one conversation you’d forgotten all about chan, the girl with the dark hair, and why you were in this situation in the first place. all you could think about was san, with his dark chocolate eyes and honeyed skin and arms strong enough to flip you around. you were overflowing with adrenaline, excitement, and greed. you wanted all of him, needed all of him, a need that has been lying dormant for months. you’d been curious about him, wanted to know what he kept hidden inside, too focused on chan to dig deeper into him.

san couldn’t fucking believe it. couldn’t believe he was in your bed, your walls that were covered in posters of rock bands and singers from the 80s, some faces he’s seen before and plenty of others he hasn’t. records cover one wall, soundtracks from different musicals, little trinkets filling every inch of open space on your bookshelves. your room was so undeniably you, from the smell to the color scheme, he took every inch of it and burned it to memory. he tried not to stare too much in his learning, telling himself to focus on you instead, he’d he back, this isn’t a one time thing. he couldn’t be more right. 

the moment his lips touched yours he couldn’t believe he’d gone so long without tasting you. a kiss so sweet, so rushed, so hungry, he’d never felt anything like it. he knew you'd wreck him, become too important to him, become a valued person in his life, for a moment he thought maybe he should stop – this was all too good to be true. 

when you whimpered in his mouth after a light grind to his crotch, he took all of his thoughts back. there was no stopping this, no hands could pry him off of you, he needed to see every bit of you. he needed to kiss every inch of your skin, inhale the scent of your sweat, he yearned to worship you. he wanted all of you, he needed to rein himself in, not get too excited so he could last. 

you fought for dominance on his lap, tongues in a rushed wrestle, strong thighs wrapped around his hips. as those soft hands of his squeezed the fat of your ass, you let out a yelp, grinding yourself into him. you wanted to hear any kind of noise, any harsh breath he might release. you wanted control, he didn’t want to give it up, at least not without a fight.

he scooped your waist with one arm, flipping you over, pressing you flat against the mattress. you mustered out a hushed fuck as the realization finally hit you: his biceps aren’t just for aesthetics, the sheer strength of one is enough to throw you around, and it’s strength he will use to his advantage. 

“as much as i want to be thrown around,” you broke the kiss for a moment, “save it for the next time.”

you wrapped your legs around his waist and lunged yourself forward with your hands, hips on top of his once more, your bodies sitting upright. as much as you wanted to revel in the gain of dominance, you knew he just willingly allowed you to do that, he could’ve stopped you with ease if he wanted to.

“see what i mean? brat,” he broke the kiss again with a huff, a smirk painting his own lips for a moment before returning them to yours. 

your right hand moved up to grip his throat, pushing him an inch away from you. on his lap you were taller, staring down at him, he looked up at you with a spark in his eyes you haven't seen yet. his eyebrows furrowed, not in confusion or hurt, but want. need. he liked this, he wanted this, and you couldn’t help the wicked smile that touched every feature on your face. 

“watch your mouth,” you tilted your chin up, looking down at him at a harsher angle, the act itself a display of dominance. in combination with the harsh tone to your words, he nearly quivered in your grasp. a strangled groan left his lips as your grip tightened for a moment, blocking his airway, before releasing him completely. you reached for the hem of his shirt, ripping it over his head with ease. 

“look at you, so fucking sexy,” you said as the cotton hit the floor, examining his exposed upper half in awe. chiseled abs, even sitting down, and a chest you’re sure could knock you out if it came in contact with your head. he was beautiful, perfect even, not an inch of him unsculpted. 

his breath turned heavy under your stare, eyes lowering into a different version of himself, a submission of sorts. he had no fight left in them, he gave up control, let you take it, and you were going to run with it. 

you brought your lips to his jaw, kissing down his neck, hands running over every inch of bare skin. he tugged at your top at the same time, tugging it over your head, unclasping your bra with just one hand. 

“done that before?” you asked with raised eyebrows and a playful smile, and he chuckled. 

“once or twice,” his reply was mindless as you fumbled with his belt buckle beneath you, slipping it out of the loops, throwing it to the floor. 

“hungry?” you asked and his eyes quickly met yours, confusion crossing them before realization set in. you didn’t wait for an answer as you pushed him back on the bed with your index finger to his chest, not having to muster up any force at all. 

you quickly sat up and slipped off your jeans and underwear, leaving yourself bare in front of him. he leaned up on his elbows for just a moment before you crawled back on top of him, further up his body until you sat right over his face. 

“no touching unless i tell you to,” your voice was stern, he nodded in understanding and you took that as the green light to plant yourself on his awaiting face. 

you moaned the moment his tongue came in contact with your soaked center, lapping up everything you had to offer. you stilled for a moment, letting him work himself on you, his tongue gliding through your wetness. 

“fuck, sannie, so fucking good,” you moaned out, a hand reaching down to tug at his styled black hair. he groaned in response, hands lifting off of the bed, but they didn’t touch you, didn’t even come close. 

you started riding his face and he stuck his tongue out in response to your movements, letting you have your way with him, grinding back and forth to use him for your own release. if you weren’t gone in your own pleasure you would’ve smiled at the eagerness, the willingness to please you. 

“fingers, please baby,” you gasped out, babbling your words, “need you to make me cum. you wanna make me cum, don’t you? all over your face?” 

his right hand came between your legs to slip two fingers inside of you, mouth moving up to your clit, wrapping his lips around the bundle of nerves. he curved his fingers toward himself immediately, hitting that one spot inside of you that made you see stars, you started babbling and whining praise like you’d been doing this together for years. 

“so fucking good sannie, fuck,” you cried out, grinding yourself against him, the knot in your stomach tightening with every harsh suck to your clit. he brought his other hand up to smack your ass and you moaned out, the dam bursting, your release coating his fingers, past his knuckles. you rode out your high, his fingers and mouth working in tandem to get you through it before overstimulation set in. 

“mm, taste so fucking good baby, could eat you all night,” he announced the second you lifted yourself off of him, his voice octaves lower than earlier. you watched as he licked his lips so erotically, the action making you want to sit yourself back on his face and ride him until he couldn’t breathe. 

you sat next to him on the bed after climbing off of him instead, your orgasm took the need for control right out of you, you had your fill. you wanted to be taken care of, filled up, you didn’t want to think about anything other than your own pleasure. always observant san picked up in your change of energy, letting his own switch to another before continuing. 

“need to be inside you,” he said as he sat up, taking his jeans and boxers off in one go, “you have a condom?” 

you shimmied yourself down the bed, head hitting the pillow before you shook it, “‘m on the pill.” 

“dirty girl, where did that energy from earlier go? hm?” that dangerous smirk returned to his face, his dominance returning in just one sentence, “did i eat it all out of you? wanna be a good girl for me now?” 

he leaned himself over you, strong arms beside your head caging you in. you lifted your knees up to your elbows, spreading yourself for him.

“shut up,” you mumbled, feeling the tinge of embarrassment, “fuck me already.” 

“that wasn’t very polite, thought you were ready to behave,” he shook his head, “only girls with manners get fucked. should i put my pants back on, go back home?” 

“no! no, don’t go,” your arms came up to grab onto his, your eyes widening, “i’m sorry, i’ll be good. please, san, i need you.” 

a wicked smile crossed his face before he leaned down to plant a kiss on your own, “good, i hoped so. breathe for me, okay?”

you glanced down between your legs, realizing you hadn’t even seen him. you nearly gasped at the size of him, eyes widening, his length was perfect but the girth of him was more than intimidating. he spit into his hand, stroking himself, lubing himself up to slide into you easier. you nearly drooled at the sight, mouth agape, pussy clenching around nothing.

the whole act felt so sinful, so carnal, you so easily opened up to him with a side of yourself you don’t show until you’re fully comfortable. you blame your adrenaline, your hormones, how horny you were when you arrived, ignoring the real fact of how comfortable he made you feel to show so much of yourself to him. 

as he lined himself up you couldn’t ignore how it all felt right, you’ve had undeniable attraction to him for months now, but this… this was something entirely different. this was a beginning, the prologue chapter of a novel, the first episode to seasons spent with him. when he pushed himself into you and you had to physically remind yourself to breathe, you had to acknowledge that he fit so perfectly with you, his body felt like it was meant to be above yours. these weren’t feelings of a quick fuck, feelings from a one night stand, this was raw, intimate, unique. special. 

“so fucking big,” you huffed out, voice strained, eyes squeezed shut, fingers clawing at his biceps. 

“breathe, baby, you got it,” he praised you, encouraged you, and it did what it needed to. you breathed in and out, let him sheathe himself inside of you. as he bottomed out he groaned, a beautiful noise, one that could lure you to sleep if you heard it enough. he stayed there for a moment, letting you get used to the stretch, letting you relax around him. 

“so fuckin’ tight, baby, breathe,” he instructed, leaning down on his elbows to kiss you, distract you, take your mind off of the stretch. you tried your best to relax your muscles, unclench yourself from around him. 

“there you go,” his praises were a sweet song, easing you out of discomfort, “tell me when i can move.” 

you waited a few moments, returning your lips to his before grinding yourself against him. you felt your slick coating him, helping you glide up and down, and he let you for a moment — just a moment before he knew for sure you were comfortable. 

he pulled all the way out before bottoming out once more, and you yelped into his mouth, breaking the kiss to let your head lean back into the pillow.

“there it is, there we fucking go,” he mumbled as he started on a rhythm, “good fucking girl.” 

a string of moans left your lips, your hands still clawing at his biceps, body reacting to him without your brain allowing it. “so fucking good sannie.”

“thought you were so fucking badass earlier, huh? ordering me around like i’m your bitch?” that smirk returned to his lips again and all you could do was moan, staring at him through half lidded eyes, “look at you now, baby. all lifeless and limp, all for this dick?” 

“yes, san, all for you. just for you,” you mumble, words jumbling together, not knowing if your words even sounded clear. 

“yeah, baby, just as i thought, all for me,” he pistols himself into you, grabbing your hips, making you meet his thrusts. you were losing your strength, letting him have his way with you, just an incoherent mess beneath him. 

he reaches forward and grabs your jaw, “don’t go anywhere, eyes on me.”

you look up to him, eyes wide, that fuzzy space you were slipping into locked away for now, “you can go there eventually, not yet, not this time.” 

your eyes started to roll back as he shifted his hips upward, the mushroom tip of him rolling against that one spot so deliciously. with how quickly that knot formed once more in your stomach, you were surprised that drool wasn’t slipping down your chin. 

“right there, please don’t stop, gonna make me cum,” you can’t even hear yourself, so drunk on his dick, his assertiveness, you loved it. you’d never had your energy matched like this, never had a fuck like this, never had someone know you so quickly and easily. 

“hold it,” he ordered, and your eyes nearly bulged out of your head. how could he expect you to hold it, when he was hitting that spot too perfectly, doing everything in his power to get you there?

“i swear, do not fucking cum,” he smacked your hip and tears formed in your eyes trying to hold it, fighting every nerve in your body to not release around him. 

“i can’t! i can’t,” you babble, tears falling down your cheeks, and he released a long fuck, his voice dropping even lower. 

“cum for me, want you to cum around me, please,” his orders turned to begs quickly after he saw your tears. he leaned forward to wipe them off your face, bringing his fingers up to his lips. the string snapped and you gushed around him, legs shaking, a loud cry leaving your lips, probably heard in queens from the sheer volume of it. 

“where do you want me?” he quickly asked, his own words sounding shaky, slurring together. 

“inside, inside,” you begged, reaching up to cup his cheeks. he leaned down to kiss you as he released himself inside you, filling you up, thrusts slowing as he worked himself through it. 

he stayed there for a moment, forehead pressed against yours, heavy breaths being poured into each other’s mouths. he sighed as his forearms began to shake, finally pulling out of you, laying next to you.

“you okay?” he turned his head at the same time as you turned yours, eyes sharing too much of something yet saying nothing of it.

“‘m great, you?” you cracked a smile, the both of you still somewhere that wasn’t here, slowly coming back from two completely different headspaces. he nodded, returning the smile, and the two of you laid there for what felt like ages. 

sleeping with san was something outside of anything you’ve ever done. you’d slept with plenty of people, had plenty of experiences, explored what you liked and didn’t through many trials and errors. to have such an incredible first experience with someone, to have it flow so easily, to match each other so perfectly… it was almost unbelievable, it set unrealistic expectations for anyone you’d ever sleep with again. 

you needed him that night, needed that experience, needed whatever was going to distract you from whatever the hell chan was doing – and it worked. you needed that distraction for months to follow as chan continued to see the dark haired girl, who’s name you came to find out was eden, always hanging around on the rooftop, following him wherever he went. like a roach, never wanted, yet never went away. 

months you spent cooped up in your room, anger flowing through your blood as you watched his instagram stories, cute pictures of her posted every day. posed pictures together in times square, clubs on the weekends, clips of them getting drinks together on a random weekday afternoon. you couldn’t help but pick everything apart – what they were doing was touristy, corny, nothing you would do with him, nothing you would enjoy. you knew chan didn’t enjoy any of that, either. 

every time you pictured dates with him or fantasized about any time spent with him alone was always private, intimate, enriching – you’d be painting together, drinking wine in your living room as you played your favorite board game, watching a tv show from start to finish together. you were in the same major, maybe even studying together, bouncing ideas off of one another for assignments or projects, but nothing so flashy. chan hates time square, hates drinking in the middle of the day, and especially hates clubs unless there was a special occasion. you knew all of these things, you knew him, you felt the same way as him. yet he was still doing all of those things with her, playing in her garden, wasting his time when he should be focused on school, his career, his future, you.

in those months there was only one thing that could make you forget about chan, forget about eden, forget about the situation altogether. during class you were frustrated, in auditions, rehearsals, you couldn’t even study without the tv on and music playing simultaneously. if you had a singular moment of silence your brain took you back to him, took you back to what you could’ve had, what you never tried for in the first place. it was debilitating not being able to get anything done, being so one track minded, the only thing that could make you focus was san. you’d text him daily, always asking him to come over, always ending the night between his thighs. 

he always came, he always said yes, he never once said no to you. he didn’t ask any questions, didn’t make you explain your frustrations, only listened when you did speak about trivial things like school or rehearsal. you didn’t want his opinion, didn’t want his advice, only his company and the pleasure he never had any difficulty in giving you. it was perfect for those months, in your own world, the sanctuary you created in your bedroom with choi san. 

the moment when your relationship changed, you didn’t notice. there was no light bulb, no moment where you consciously started looking at him differently, yet it changed without your knowing or consent. you didn’t acknowledge it when you did notice, you didn’t want to, your heart was saved for another. yet you still talked about everything together, did all of those little things you dreamed of doing with chan. your fears, your dreams, your childhood, your favorite things, you began to know him so intimately without being aware of it. you watched grey’s anatomy with him, you played video games, you drew funky little doodles of each other on your notebooks. 

you started to crave him when he wasn’t around, and not just because he was your distraction, but a friend. he was good for you, he encouraged you to be consistent with school, you practiced lines with him, sang duets from different musicals with him. your relationship was raw, it was truth, it was naked, it was everything you wished for, it was everything you needed at that time. 

san fell for you. he fell so fucking hard, so headfirst, it was a bottomless pit with no end in sight and he couldn’t stop himself from digging further. everything he saw in you that first night was still there, only amplified into something he couldn’t hide anymore. he was at your beck and call, anything you needed, any time of day. he knew why you were so attached to him, he figured it out the second he went to the rooftop with wooyoung again, high off of his night spent with you, ready to see you again. when you were nowhere to be seen and he caught chan with his arm around the girl from his contemporary class, he put the pieces together quick. he knew you must be heartbroken, knew you needed support, a friend who knew nothing about the situation. it quickly made him realize his place in your relationship. 

he fought through the horrific realization with optimism, the returning thought that with time you’d see, you’d realize he was better for you than chan could ever be. as he spent more time with you and got to know you better, it only made his feelings deepen. your laugh, your thoughts, your competitive side, the way you’re so quick to fight back and assert your dominance, but give it up even faster… it was like an addiction, it wasn’t good for him, he knew it wasn’t, he knew it when his grades first started to slip. when he wasn’t on point at practice, too sleep deprived to remember choreography. minho read it all over him, knew something was wrong, knew san had gotten into something he shouldn’t have. 

“what’s up with you, man? this isn’t like you,” it was a rough practice that day. san was sat on the floor with his knees hugged tight to his chest, rubbing his eyes to force the exhaustion out of them. 

“just an off day,” is all san mumbled before he stood up slowly, grabbing his bag to sling over his shoulder.

“off day? you’ve been fucking up for the past week, san, you’re center,” minho put his hand on san’s shoulder, stopping him before he walked away, “they’re gonna put someone else there if you don’t get your shit together.”

“i get it, minho,” san turned his back, and minho’s grip only got tighter.

“what the hell is going on?” he asked, turning san to face him, “you can talk to me, we’re friends, you know.”

san’s hand returned to his face, trying to rub off his discomfort, this feeling that he should keep everything to himself, “it’s a lot.”

“is it a girl?” minho was quick with the question, eyes lowered, seeming to read san before he could get any words out. he started to walk, keeping his hand on san’s shoulder, encouraging him to walk alongside him. 

san answered with a coy nod, the answer seeming too taboo to say out loud. minho was a direct link to chan, he should be happy to talk about the fact that you were sleeping together. what he couldn’t shake off was the fear that you’d be angry at him for telling anyone. 

“did you get her pregnant or something?” humor was laced in minho’s tone, trying to ease up the straightforwardness of the question, but he was genuinely worried by how san had been acting.

san gasped, “preg- no! god, no,” he shook his head, “i hope not.”

minho laughed, “that doesn’t sound convincing. if she’s not pregnant then there’s no reason to be so torn up, why are you?”

they walked out of the building into the wet humidity of the city air, “like i said, it’s a lot. it’s my fault, though.”

“quit beating around the bush and tell me,” minho stood still, staring at san expectantly, “you can trust me.”

“if i’m going to tell you, i need a beer.”

an hour later they were seated at prince, not a popular dive bar in the city, but popular amongst your group of friends and whoever they introduced to it. san nursed his beer, barely getting two sips in before he was spilling everything about the last six months to one of his best friends. 

“i can’t wrap my head around why you keep fucking her if she loves another guy,” minho shrugs, “especially chan, at that. she’s been close with him since he moved to the city.”

“it’s not about fucking her,” san sighed, “i’m in too deep, i think i love her. even if i didn’t, and it was just about sex, it’s too good to stop.”

minho’s jaw physically drops, mouth hanging agape for a moment before he snaps it shut, straightening his left hand to start counting on his fingers, “so you love her, she doesn't know you love her, she loves someone else who’s in a relationship, and you spend every free moment with her. and you have so much sex you don’t sleep.”

san’s lips pull into a tight line, giving minho one long nod in response.

“there’s no way she doesn’t love you back if you’ve spent that much time together in six months, i can’t believe you kept all of this shit hidden for so long. you need to talk shit out, man.”

it was music to his ears, san’s entire body filled with a joy he’d never felt before when no way she doesn’t love you back left minho’s lips. he felt like he was putting a puzzle together in his brain, that actually made perfect sense, how could you not return anything he felt for you? you also experienced all your time together, got just as close to him as he did you. 

he barely gave minho another half hour before he was barreling out of prince and on his way to your apartment. 

“hey baby, how was practi-”

“i need to ask you a question.”

your head whipped to your front door, never hearing san sound so desperate outside of the bedroom. his eyes were blown, his eyebrows raised, fully out of breath from running up the flights of steps to your apartment. your blood ran cold, you knew this question was coming eventually, you were savoring every moment he didn't ask it. you stood slowly, facing him from the couch, eyes expectant.

“i’ll give you an answer,” you replied casually, keeping your voice steady. 

“do you want to be with me?” his words felt empty, as if he wasn’t sure if he wanted to say them, yet he still sounded like he’d been dying to ask the question for months. he didn’t blink, kept his shoulders back, dance bag dangling from his fingertips.

“san,” you said calmly, taking a step towards him. 

“i don’t want to freak you out, please don’t freak out, it’s just been six months and i really enjoy you and your company and i love being around you, i love spending nights with you, the sex is incredible, everything just seems right,” a smile graces his lips with a pause. when you stared back at him in disbelief he panicked, his heart in his throat, “i’m sorry if i freaked you out, this is too much, isn’t it?” 

you took a breath, closing your eyes for a moment. the day you’d been dreading had come – the end of a perfect half year. 

“i can’t be in a relationship right now,” you blurt the first thing that came to mind, and his face dropped immediately. “i enjoy you, i love our time spent together, i love that you’re around all the time, you’ve been a huge help to me these past six months. i couldn’t of done it without you.”

you’ve been told these words before, you’ve been in his position before, you’re spouting the same venom that’s been thrown at you. you felt  as if you were shoved in a corner, not fully believing your own words, but you needed an excuse more than you wanted to say the truth. 

a sad smile crosses his face, “i get it.”

“i don’t want to stop whatever this is,” you walk closer to him, grabbing his hand, “and it could grow into something really great. i’m just not in a position to open my heart to anyone right now.” 

“i know, baby. the last six months have been rough on you,” his heart melted, even if he knew the reason why, he also knew that it really did hurt you. you needed time to heal, time to focus on yourself, time to get back into the dating scene. he’d be there, first in line when you were ready. 

“i knew you’d understand, thank you,” you stood on your toes, attaching your lips to his. ten minutes later you were on your knees, right back to normal like that conversation didn’t even happen. 

in just two weeks you’d started going out more regularly again, meeting your friends at prince, going to chan’s rooftop whenever felix told you to come. your friends that noticed, despite you keeping your appearances up, asked where you’d been, why you’re back, and you gave them the sophomore year bullshit of classes were hard and summer is here again! at your age, parties were a dime a dozen, you had plenty of excuses to be out of the house and away from your issues, stopping reality from hitting you that you were playing with fire once again.

you did have feelings for san, even if it was your own fucked up version. there was no way you couldn’t with how much time you spent together, how much you know about him, how much you care for him. but the other problem that you will never forget is still there, staring at you from across his own rooftop. 

you care for san, but the love you feel for bang christopher chan is so much fucking more.

“hey! i feel like i haven’t seen you in ages!” his smile is huge as he crosses the crowd, clinking his drink with your own. you blushed, that was basically him saying i missed you. 

“same here, how’s everything been? happy classes are over?” you asked, gripping your drink a little tighter. 

“incredibly happy classes are over, even happier this terrible fucking year is over,” he chuckled, “me and eden broke up, i don’t know if you heard. she cheated on me with some columbia architect, whatever.”

broke up? he’s… single again?

your jaw dropped, and you fought to keep the excitement to a minimum, “no, i didn’t know, i’m so sorry, channie. fuck her and that architect!”

he laughed again, a belly laugh that made you want to jump his bones, “what about you, though? seeing anyone?”

his question took you by surprise, “i- uh, no, i’m not,” your giggle was nervous, wanting to change the subject immediately. san crossed your mind, a thought you quickly shut down.

“you’re never seeing anyone, dude, we have to set you up with somebody, can’t go through your whole college experience without a shitty boyfriend or two,” it was a joke, a bad one, but it still made heat rise to your whole upper half. why was he asking? he’s never asked about your love life before. 

“i’m good off a shitty boyfriend, i’d rather be alone if that’s the case,” you shake your head, then sip through your tiny straw. 

“suit yourself,” he palmed your shoulder with a hand that completely enveloped it, and you felt the skin underneath burn. 

you felt eyes boring into your head from behind you, and you quickly turned, scanning the area. you saw your roommate and her boyfriend in the smoking corner, minho and han, then san, who was leaning against the concrete of the wall separating the rooftop from the drop to the ground below. like a hawk, he watched you through lowered eyes, taking in every move. you quickly turned back around, expecting chan to still be there, but he was gone, probably off being a good host to his party. you wiped the chill off of you, finishing off your drink, dismissing the guilty feeling creeping up your spine because chan is single again. determination washes over you, this time you’d be hell bent upon telling him how you feel, finally getting your chance to be with him. it was your turn this time. 

san was beyond frustrated. watching you talk to chan after all of these months, even from afar, picking up your body language, he was sick to his stomach. the way you shifted from foot to foot, unconsciously leaned into his touch, flipped your hair behind your back to show off your décolletage, san could pick up on exactly what you were thinking and he hated it. 

san wasn’t in the lead, he was forever the number two, your favorite best kept hidden secret. he was sick of it, sick of being with you behind closed doors, sick of dropping everything for you, sick of being under your spell. he knew his place, knew it enough to where he didn’t even approach you on the rooftop. he knew there would be a call, a text, a fucking messenger pigeon that would get him in your bed tonight, he was sure of it. when chan went back inside the apartment for the night and didn’t have a soul beside him, he knew exactly how the outcome of the night would go, and he was excited for it. 

as san slammed your apartment door shut behind him, you jumped nearly a foot in the air, turning to furrow your eyebrows. the two of you ended up leaving together, an outcome that wasn’t on his list of possibilities – no messenger pigeon needed. he was surprised, he didn’t think you’d even want to be seen getting in the same car as him. 

“what was that for?” the slam startled you, it was unlike him, he was delicate with everything he did.

“i’m sick of this, ri,” he shook his head, standing by the entrance to your kitchen, not following you into the living room. your stomach dropped, you should’ve seen this coming.

“what do you mean?” you opted for obliviousness after a pause, unsure of how to go about this conversation again after your last one was just two weeks ago. 

“i’m sick of being your secret, whatever the hell i am to you,” he ran a hand through his hair, “actually, that’s a good question. what am i to you, riley?”

you gulped, your eyes widening, coming to yet another moment of silence. you didn’t know how to answer, didn’t know how to tell him what you didn’t know yourself. 

“you don’t know? or you know and can’t say it?” he understands your silence, using his hands as he speaks, “tell me the truth.”

“i don’t know, san, a friend?” your voice is unsure, small. you wanted to shrink yourself, wanted to be anywhere but here, having this conversation. this is the first time you’ve seen this side of him, you and san had never argued before, the last time you had this talk it didn’t have any anger or frustration. 

“a friend? i’m a friend?” he laughs, a sarcastic chuckle that you’ve never heard leave his lips. you must’ve gotten away with it two weeks ago, this was really the end, there was only one way this talk could go. “a friend that knows every inch of you, a friend that’s spent more time here the past six months than the apartment they still pay rent at? that’s a fucking joke, riley.”

tears gathered in your eyes, ones that you weren’t exactly sure why they were there, you felt caught. bombarded with a choice you didn’t want to make. he was finally understanding your web of lies, finally over it, over you. you weren’t ready to let him go, you wanted to continue to live in your bubble with him, you wanted him to stay. you didn’t let them fall.

“what do you want me to say?” you don’t have a rebuttal, you don’t have any sly words that could change the topic, even momentarily change what he’s feeling. you chose anger, deflection.

“i want more, ri. i want you, i’ve wanted you since i met you. there’s no way you don’t know that,” he sighs, turning around, running that same hand through his hair. 

“and i can’t give you more, san, so what do you want me to do? force myself into something i’m not ready for? i’ve told you my piece,” you walk towards him, standing just a few steps from him.

“no, riley, i don’t want you to force yourself into being with me, that’s ridiculous. when we’re in public you barely look at me, let alone speak to me. what are you so afraid of? why can’t anyone know about… this?” he turned around, his own eyes glossy, looking down at you through damp eyelashes. your blood ran cold, colder than it had been from the moment he slammed the door, that familiar guilty feeling sitting in the pit of your stomach. 

“why do you need people to know? why do you need our relationship to be publicized? is being with me, here like this, not enough for you?” the laugh you let out was dry, calculated, “if it’s not enough then maybe we shouldn’t see each other anymore.” 

a small gasp left his lips, barely audible it could’ve been just an intake of air, his visage twisted the moment you spoke those words. with his lips and eyebrows turned downward, that slight anger, frustration, morphed into a sadness you never wanted to see again. 

“that’s not what i want,” his voice is smaller than you’ve ever heard it, a shy mumble, his gaze pointed downward at his fingers which played with his rings. “i don’t want to fight with you.” 

“i know, baby,” you stepped forward, placing a hand on his soft, reddened cheek, “i don’t want to fight with you, either. want you to be happy.” 

“i’m happy with you,” his voice cracked, a raw tone, as he glanced back up at you. his eyes red, glossed over, full of emotion, it broke your heart. you could never truly make him happy, you knew that, but you could momentarily.

“then let me take care of you,” and that you did, like you always did, the same way you did two weeks ago. you rode him to oblivion, until he forgot why he was upset in the first place, the same thing he did for you six months ago. 

a week later, you’d fought again. plenty of times.

almost every day for the whole week you started an argument over something so fucking stupid and you couldn’t stop. everything he did pissed you off, every time he tried to fix it, it pissed you off even more. you were overflowing with so many different emotions you couldn’t breathe, you needed space, you needed him, you needed chan. you were too overstimulated to think clearly, if you were ever thinking clearly to begin with.

the guilt from not returning his feelings, but not being at ease when he isn’t sleeping in your bed.. it didn’t make any sense. you felt insane, suffocated in the overwhelming feelings you couldn’t bring yourself to return. you liked san, you liked everything about him, but the fervent feelings he had towards you mirrored what you felt for chan. 

there was now nothing left unsaid. there was no unspoken deal between you anymore, no weapon left to use to let yourself get off without consequence. you were uncomfortable, uncomfortable with his feelings, uncomfortable with your own, you felt shoved in a corner you couldn’t walk away from. 

the only things that stayed consistent in that week were chan’s rooftop, chan’s living room, and his incessant need to talk to you every damn time you were there.  

san felt like he was losing his goddamn mind. 

he wished he could go back in time and take back everything he said, his confession, his feelings, he had ruined everything. you would go from not answering him to getting pissed off that he answered your text with ok instead of okay… it seemed like he couldn’t do anything right, in a constant state of fear that today would be the day you break it off with him for real. 

his day to day life was only getting worse. he was making cocktails wrong at work, not replacing ice, handing the wrong beer to patrons at the bar. he got replaced again in his spot for his dance class, reprimanded by his teacher, minho gave him not one but two additional talks about getting his shit together. 

he hadn’t seen you since the night you argued two weeks ago, he hasn’t even been going out for just a glimpse of you, he’s been playing catch up for what felt like weeks. to make matters worse, he was pent up, he’d been so used to a consistent sex life, he needed release. he needed a night to let go of you, all of the whiplash he’d endured for weeks now, he needed a night to just be himself. to forget.

he called wooyoung, his best friend who was always out in the city, always had plans. thankfully he was going to a club that night to celebrate your roommate’s recent internship acceptance. wooyoung assured him that you wouldn’t be there, it would only be a couple of your roommates' close friends. he didn’t ask why you wouldn’t be there, he tried to convince himself he didn’t care, he needed to start forgetting now.

he hopped out of bed and got ready fast, the clock already past eight, and headed over to meet the group before going to the club. they were all familiar faces from the rooftop, despite him only knowing wooyoung super intimately. all of the nights he spent at your apartment your roommate was usually at her boyfriend’s, and if she wasn’t, her and her boyfriend were cooped up in her bedroom.

but here he was, in a club he’s never heard of in the middle of manhattan celebrating her.

“have a drink, sannie, do something,” wooyoung slung his arm around san’s shoulder, bent behind the booth he was sitting at, “don’t just sit there and mope.”

san nodded, not having much to say if it didn’t have to do with you. he sipped his beer mindlessly, listening to everyone talking around him, their conversation had to be more entertaining then the jail he created for himself in his own mind. 

“...i’ve been trying to get them together for years! i’m so happy it’s finally happening!” your roommate says loud, drunkenly, talking to yunho’s girlfriend. 

“years?” yunho’s girlfriend asked, brushing her hair behind her ear, “why the hell did it take so long?”

“when they met they were all just good friends, then i was introduced and started dating jeongin pretty much immediately, i’m the one who noticed how she felt about him. she wouldn’t admit it for ages, until i finally got it out of her, and pretty much immediately after that chan started dating eden, you remember her, right?” san’s ears perked up at that, his stomach dropping immediately. he put the pieces together quicker than ki could run her mouth. the drinks from the pregame clearly made her filter pretty much nonexistent, this is a conversation he wasn’t supposed to be listening to, something he wasn’t supposed to hear. she didn’t notice the extra ear, but her boyfriend did.

“ki,” jeongin interrupted, eyes glancing back and forth between san and his girlfriend, talking over yunho’s girlfriend.

ki ignored him, too deep in her own conversation, “yes! like two weeks ago or something it finally clicked, they’ve been seeing each other since.” 

“who?” san interrupted, panic in his voice. 

he knew who, from the bottom of his heart. a little over two weeks ago was when san started the fight between the two of you, ever since then you’d been off. he hasn’t seen you. he knows damn well who.

ki’s eyes were wide, her jaw agape, and jeongin’s hand went to his forehead. 

“san, i-”

“who are you talking about, ki?” san sat a little straighter, his chin jutting out, “who’s been seeing chan for the past two weeks?”

“i think you already know who, san, i didn’t realize you didn’t know?” ki’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, her hand holding her drink a little bit tighter. yunho’s girlfriend looked between san and ki, also confused, too nervous to ask any questions. the tension was thick in the air, too heavy for a night of celebration. san could feel the control he had over himself lessening by the second. 

san laughs, a dark chuckle, and something inside of him shifts. he’s done, he’s so fucking done. he feels stupid, it’s always been chan from the start, it’s always going to be chan. he tried telling himself months ago that you would see he was better for you than chan ever could be, but he was clearly so fucking wrong. chan would always be your endgame, it would never be him, no matter what he did for you. no matter how much he tried for you. no matter how much he begged for you.

everything he’s been feeling for the past two weeks, the confusing feelings, the constant begging just to see you, the amount of apologies he’d given to someone who didn’t fucking deserve them. how many times had you texted him when you were next to chan? how many times had you ignored him because you were next to chan?

san doesn’t get angry, san isn’t a fighter. san’s always been a peacekeeper, a problem solver, water to put out the fire. 

he is so fucking over it.

he thought about his grades, how long it’d taken him to bring them back up. his rehearsals, his performances, the center positions that had been taken away from him. how many bottles of beer he’d thrown away at work from constant fuck ups. how many times he’s gotten grilled from more people than he can count on his hands. 

he ignored ki, instead he looked into the crowd, suddenly remembering exactly where he was. he reached forward and grabbed one of the bottles yunho bought and took a long swig from it. he looked out in the crowd again and spotted a pretty little blonde thing almost immediately, and took a moment to reflect.

he remembered his life before you, before chan, before that fucking rooftop. how women fawned over him, flocked to him, how obsessed they were. how he didn’t have to try for anything or anyone. he passed the bottle to wooyoung behind him who was so taken aback he hadn’t said a word. 

“san, we can leave, we can go, it’s okay,” wooyoung said, bent over once more, taking the bottle from san’s hand, “we don’t have to stay here, let’s go.”

“if you’re not going to drink that then give it back,” his reply is so curt it sliced through the air like the knife ki just put through his chest, “we are not leaving.”

wooyoung took a swig of the bottle, a proud smirk growing on his face, “finally, man. let’s be done with it already.”

2:27 am ri: u up? ri: i miss you

[netegf]

Hate It When You Leave

pairing: f!reader x rafe cameron

plot: you are trying to cope with the fact that you're hopelessly in love with your best friend. he's trying to cope with the fact that you don't go after the things you want... including him.

warnings: 18+, best friends to lovers trope, use of Y/N, mentions of alcohol and past drug use, non-graphic references to violence, some angst & jealousy, fluff and smut (public sex, teasing, oral female receiving)

word count: 6.5 k

There are parts about wearing your heart on your sleeve that no one ever talks about.

For instance, that it's hard to fix your face when the threads keeping that heart together feel like they're getting tugged, cut, and re-bunched into an ugly knot. 

The water bottle you're holding hardly has any life left. Even Kelce comments as much when he rounds his kitchen island, limbs swinging and loose thanks to the red Solo cup in his hand. He takes one look at the tight smile on your lips and tilts his head to the side, fingers twitching upward to your chin as he turns your head to face him. 

"What's going on in that pretty head of yours?" He asks, voice a little slurred, but thick with concern.

That was Kelce. Polarizingly good at getting to what someone was hiding underneath. 

But appearances went a long way for him. And he was so agreeable, it made him easy to lie to. Especially when he and Topper had practically begged you to come to this party, his first one since graduating college. Everyone would be there, he'd said.

And he was right, they were. 

"Nothing, Kels, it's just my stomach being a little funny." You tell him with a renewed sense of enthusiasm. You gaze at him warmly and quirk a brow, smiling genuinely. "How do you always know?"

"We've known each other our whole lives!" He barks in a laugh. "There's nothing I don't know about you."

You feel your heart squeeze again, like there's a too-tight belt around it. But you humour him with a sweet giggle and convinced nod, and it's all Kelce needs before he's walking away to mingle with another. 

How shocked he'd be to know that there was something you were hiding. 

You keep the water bottle you're holding close to your body as if it would fall straight out of your hands otherwise. When you watch the brunette seated next to Rafe on the couch squeeze his bicep again, you think it might just fall anyway. 

Some things don't change. 

The sun goes up and down. The moon makes a nightly appearance. Kelce never dresses for the weather. Topper claims everyone else is cheating when he loses. 

You love Rafe Cameron.

"Fucking sucks, doesn't it?" A voice rings next to you.

You slowly turn your head from where you're sitting on the kitchen island to see a familiar face lounging on one of the high-chairs. 

Topper, apparently, had always had an inkling. 

"I don't know what you're talking about, Top." You grumble, casting your eyes away from the blonde protagonist of most of your dreams. Some of your nightmares, too. 

You watch as Topper rolls his eyes without so much as glancing at you, a small scoff escaping his lips. He takes a hearty sip from his cup of brown liquid. Tracking his eye-line, you're unsurprised to find that he's staring wistfully at the very same blonde's sister. 

Sarah Cameron is dancing in the corner of the room with John B., her boyfriend. 

A Pogue at a Kook party... the thought still makes you skeptical.

Not because you didn't like John B., or more accurately, like him for Sarah. But because a few short years ago, all this seemed entirely impossible.

Nonetheless, Sarah was important to all of you. 

And, like she'd said, Rafe listened to you better than he did anyone else.

When you explained to him how smitten his sister was with the boy, and considering how their relationship had endured far past those murmurings of 'young love' to, what was at this point, years together, he'd begun to understand that John B. wasn't going anywhere. 

Much to Topper's devastation. 

He promised he was over her, and he dated like it, too. But there were those moments where he had a few drinks in him and it made you think otherwise. 

"Oh, okay. My fault." Topper replies sarcastically, downing what's left in his cup and finally turning away from the couple he's burning holes through. "I thought we were being honest."

"I am being honest."

He glances at you sharply. 

"Uh huh. Hey, don't freak out, but, your nose is like, growing really long. Never seen anything like it before. It's like in that movie! What's it called, again? Puppet boy? No, that can't be right..."

"Very funny, Topper." You say dryly, but the hint of a smile on your lips sells you out and he chuckles next to you. 

"I was thinking Pinocchio." He fake recalls, nudging your elbow. 

This time, you laugh with your chest, and when you lift your head up to take it all in again, your eyes meet familiar blue ones from across Kelce's living room.

By now, you know how to mediate the warmth that blooms at the base of your spine and consumes you completely. 

There's a comfortable silence between the two of you before Topper starts speaking again. 

"You know he would do anything for you, right?" 

You chew on your bottom lip, still holding eye contact with Rafe who gives you a crooked smile. The girl next to him leans in to whisper something in his ear. He keeps looking at you. 

"Yeah, I know." You mumble half-heartedly. "I just feel like I might need to cut my losses at this point." 

Topper frowns for a moment, then stands up from his seat. 

"Well, you suit yourself." He pinches your cheek affectionately. "Because I, for one, want to crash and burn."

You snort at Topper's words and just as quickly watch him round the kitchen counter to grab another drink. 

Preoccupied with the way he extends that gesture to you, fixing some gross concoction of different sodas for you to sip on, a shiver rolls over your skin when it feels like Rafe's smouldering eyes are still lighting a fire on your face. 

Aron Andersen is a douche, but he means well. 

At least, that's the excuse you aways placate Rafe with when Aron inevitably runs his mouth, the blonde's fists tightening nearly every time in conjunction.

Typically, you opt for the pacifist approach because blood is a bitch to clean, Rafe whines when you clean him up with saline, and frankly, Aron isn't worth it.

But tonight, he seems to enjoy testing your threshold for patience like no one else before him. 

You suppose he's not entirely to blame. Kelce makes his drinks strong, and half of Figure 8 is sucking up all the oxygen in the room.

Maybe that was why Rafe had almost swung on John B. only a few minutes prior, claiming the younger man was feeding his sister lies about him. Perhaps it was just one of those nights. 

Still, you sigh when Aron drunkenly makes his way over to your new spot in the backyard, and press your lips tight together when he shoves a beer in your direction.  

"I'm not drinking tonight, Aron." You tell him plainly. 

Aron haphazardly plops down into the lounge chair next to you with his glossy, red eyes narrowing.

He grudgingly pulls the beer back from you and takes a sip that pools around the sides of his mouth, then drains down his throat slow and loud. 

"That sucks. You're more fun when you do." He scoffs.

Your mouth falls open as the words leave his lips, head spinning to meet his annoyed gaze. The faraway look in his eyes makes you gulp.

In no particular mood to be berated, you have half a mind to scoff back and get up to leave. But there's something about the way he speaks completely unadulterated that keeps your body locked in place.

Like you're dying to know what someone really thinks of you.

"Why not?" He presses, gesturing with his finger accusingly. 

"I'm driving."

He continues to stare at you blankly.

"I'm driving." You reiterate, irritation seeping into your tone. "And drunk driving is illegal, Aron. You do know that, right?"

Unintentionally, your eyes flicker to a slightly rowdy and staggering Topper across the room. Aron zeroes in on that and rolls his eyes emphatically. 

"Now it makes sense. You're taking your boyfriends home." He pitches the word in a scornful taunt, squinting over your shoulder. "Where is Cameron, anyway?"

You feel your heartbeat rage in your chest, tongue numb and mind in disarray. 

"Don't be a dick, Aron. They're my friends." You bristle. But he seems unfazed, lazily quirking an eyebrow. 

"Please don't tell me you're that stupid, Y/N. Friends?" He laughs obnoxiously. "I get you're in love with the guy, but you run around for them like a maid. You ask me, the least you should be getting out of it is a good fuck."

Your fingers twitch at your side as you shoot up from your seat, really and truly considering that pouring his beer over his head might be the best option.

Given that Aron routinely takes up two parking spots to park his Range Rover and cheats on his girlfriends, you think it might be a long time coming. 

His words hurt for more than one reason. Of course, because he'd sooner die than recognize that you very much could maintain a healthy, platonic, and meaningful relationship with your friends of over a decade.

But also because, when it came to Rafe, he was goading you with a kind of intimacy you knew you'd never be able to access. At least not in the way you wanted. 

When a firm hand grips Aron's shoulder strongly and whips his body around, you soon realize you don't have to resort to such a physical display. 

While it was true that Rafe's face didn't make him look particularly kind, he'd only been seriously pissed off, to the point that his stomach felt like caving in on itself, a few times. Like in those months right after he'd graduated high school and felt like a big question mark. Every time his dad looked at him disapprovingly, it affirmed that sinking feeling in him, and he learned that he sometimes articulated his sadness in anger.

These days when he's mad, he mulls the feeling over a few times in the interest of scraping for another feeling underneath. 

Now, though, all Rafe feels when he meets Aron's arrogance with an intensity of his own, is unbridled rage. 

"What the fuck did you just say?"

Rafe speaks at a low register that makes your breath quicken. His movements are a little clumsy, blue eyes slightly glazed over, and his dirty blonde hair kisses his forehead that's speckled with sweat. Cheeks dusted red in that way that you love, more prominent when he's inebriated.

His fingers are still pressing harshly into Aron's shoulder, pressure concentrated and steady if the way he winces is any indication. For a second, his eyes flit over to you and the frown on your face, and they begin to soften. But then Aron is sputtering and stealing his attention and he hates him all over again for it. 

"My bad, bro." Aron offers lamely, hands jutting upward in surrender. He attempts to step away, but Rafe keeps him locked there. 

"Yeah, it's your fucking bad, bro." Rafe sneers.

He roughly shoves Aron backwards as he lets go of him and the man quickly scurries away knowing that if he sticks around, Rafe will probably force him through clenched teeth to apologize to you.

You feel your heart hammering in your chest for a different reason.

Your mind is trapped in a loop, repeating every word you said to Aron over and over again, wondering how incriminating they were, and debating how much exactly Rafe had heard.

And if he had, if he was coherent enough to either dismiss or believe the accusation that you loved him. No, not love, you shudder... in love. Aron had said, verbatim, that you were in love with him. 

"I would've handled it." You mumble with your arms crossed over your chest.

Rafe sighs as he turns his body to face you, rubbing a hand over his jaw, now partially relieved of the tension it was holding. He chews on his bottom lip cautiously, like it'll help break the fall of the words bound to spill out of his mouth, a little too unrestrained in his drunk state for his liking. 

"I know that." He nods slowly. "I just wanted to help to help you... handle it."

He stumbles a little as he moves toward you and you instinctively wrap an arm behind his torso, holding him against your body as a human splint. 

"Plus, I kinda have a reputation going for me. No one's losing their shit if I fight a guy."

"Or two." You say pointedly, thinking about his almost altercation with John B. earlier in the night. 

Rafe buries his head into your shoulder, groaning loudly into the bare skin as it heats up and vibrates. 

"Fuck, not you, too."

He lifts his head up to continue, and you lug his body towards the living room where you spot Topper talking with Kelce and some others. Without speaking, Topper seems to understand what you're saying, nodding then pointing to himself followed by the stairs. 

He'd driven you to Kelce's and you promised to stay sober and drive him back home. But now, it seemed like the plan was going to shift.

Topper would stay the night at Kelce's and take his car back in the morning. You would take Rafe's truck back to his place and walk the rest of the way. You were practically neighbours, anyway. 

"If she wants to talk shit about me to her boyfriend, that's one thing. But him, talking shit about me, to her? What's he trying to do? Turn my own sister against me?" 

"I get it, Rafe. I really do." You nod, an amused smile on your lips as you tug him out of the front door and towards his truck. "But you promised Sarah you'd be nice, remember?"

"I am being nice." He protests with his hands tapping at his chest. "I didn't even fucking touch him."

You scoff lightly as you strap Rafe in his passenger seat, noting the way his eyes begin to flutter shut. Humming softly, you poke a cold finger at his cheek and watch as they blink open again. 

"I'm taking you home, okay?" You murmur gently. 

"No!" He objects, large hand circling your wrist. He rubs his forehead with the other one, trying to remember something. "Got a meeting in the morning. Ward is gonna flip if he thinks I've been out all night fucking around."

You look at him uncertainly, waiting for the thing that you don’t want him to say, but know he will.

"Your house? Please?"

There was a time when sleepovers with Rafe were a common practice. Sometimes, after parties like this, with Kelce and Topper.

Other times when you convinced the boys to binge a new movie or TV series, usually ending with at least two of them falling asleep. Rafe made a habit of grumbling his critiques of the things he watched, but always stayed up with you. 

For a while, when he hit an especially rough patch with his dad and spent more nights than he would've liked getting high out of his mind.

As much as he'd tried not to pull anybody else into it, he found himself seeking comfort in the warmth of your bed. It helped that you always received him with open arms, even when his early morning phone calls were disorienting and he cried silently into your shirt in the hours after. 

Those nights felt so distant, and yet, like you could touch them if you reached out just far enough.

Rafe had girlfriends on and off, and sometimes that version of him felt like a stranger. You felt a strange pity for yourself when you realized that it might've been a good thing. That he was getting better and without falling back on a crutch, even if that crutch was you. Suddenly, him sleeping at your house felt weird and misplaced more than anything else. 

"I don't know, Rafe...," you begin to trail off, but the blue desperation in his eyes makes you reconsider. He's still holding tenderly at your wrist. "Fine. But if you puke on my sheets, you're done. Do you hear me?" 

Whether or not Rafe hears you is unclear, but you take the delirious smile forming on his lips as a non-verbal affirmation. He huffs out a long breath as if he can feel himself finally relaxing. His eyes start to close again, too, as you start his truck and drive the short way to your house. 

"Don't even think about falling asleep on me, Cameron. I am not lugging you up the stairs."

"You're strong." He reasons smoothly, lids still shut as he smirks. "You were about to deck the shit out of Aron Andersen when I found you."

Getting Rafe up to your bedroom goes better than you'd imagined, now with a few years of experience under your belt. 

You get him to sit down on your bed, and he fiddles with the items on your nightstand while you rummage through your armoire for an old pair of his pajamas. He complains when you throw him a pair of sweatpants and a sports t-shirt he used to wear in junior high, claiming that it'd be too tight over his arms and chest.

Plus, he'd added, it was far too hot to be wearing a shirt, anyway. 

"I love these." 

Changing into sweats of your own, you exit the bathroom to find Rafe sitting up in your bed, part of his bare torso obscured by your white sheets. His attention is fixed on a small group of rings on your bedside table, silver and gold hues reflecting under the dull rays of your lamp.

He slowly picks one up.

"Yeah, I'd hope so." You snort, tentatively slipping into bed next to him and painfully aware of the sorry excuse for space between you. "You got them all for me... kook."

Rafe cracks a sleepy smile, rolling his eyes playfully.

"You wouldn't tell me which one you wanted." He shrugs like it's the simplest thing in the world. 

He sets the ring back on the table and switches off your lamp, blanketing the room in a stroke of darkness. Rafe lies on his back and you opt to turn to your side, facing the wall.

Looking at his face only a few inches away from yours, when he's about to sleep in your bed, feels like it will be too much. 

"Asking for what you want is weird, Rafe. Nobody likes it."

You chew on your bottom lip in the dark.

"I do." He says in a scoff that turns into a yawn. "How else is anyone gonna know? People don't usually stop you and beg to find out."

You swallow roughly. That was true enough, they didn't.

But Rafe did. He always did. You revered him for it.

There's a long silence between you and all that echoes against the wood framing of your bed are the heavy and sometimes irregular sounds of your and Rafe's breathing.

Against your better judgement, you think he might've fallen asleep and almost turn around to check. 

"Is it me?" He asks quietly, voice scratchy with exhaustion. "... what you want?"

You feel your shaky breath hitch in your throat. 

"Because if it is... you don't have to ask."

His words linger in the air for as long as it takes your wildly beating hard to calm down.

By the time your body regains some feeling, the sound of Rafe's soft snores pierce the oddly crisp air clouding your room, and the choice to unpack what he said right now, or in the morning, is made for you. 

A shiver runs down from the nape of your neck to the tips of yours toes. 

Rafe is gone by the time you wake up.

The harsh but comforting sound of rain clangs against your roof, and you stretch your limbs to the thought of a cloudy and obscure summer day. 

It's better this way, you think. The absence of Rafe's warmth next to you would feel worse if the sun was shining, teasing. 

Your fingers play underneath your comforter to locate your phone. Scrolling through your notifications, you frown seeing that none of them are from Rafe.

In his defense, it was only about 9AM now, and he'd probably just had enough time to take a quick shower, get himself the smallest bit presentable, and still barely make it to his meeting with a client.

The used bathroom towel in your hamper and flannel pajama pants hastily thrown on his side of the bed are compelling indicators. 

In his defense, he was drunk, and there was no telling if he remembered anything about last night. 

Drowsy proclamations of desire and confession, included. 

You wrestle with the idea of calling him and letting it all spill out.

Kissing him on your front lawn, in the rain, with dewy blades of grass nipping at your feet. Hands threading through his wet hair and tugging, hungrily, because you're starving and happy, and these are liberties you can afford in imagination.  

But you settle on seeing him later tonight, in person. It's your dad's charity after all. 

"I just wish you would have told me earlier." Your disappointed words hang in the air for a few moments as you play with the hem of your silky baby blue dress.

Your father had mentioned to you once before that his new business partner had a son about your age, newly graduated from UC Irvine. 

He hadn't mentioned, though, that this mystery guy would be attending the charity tonight, and he'd offered you up as his own personal tour guide.

Your father hadn't used the word date explicitly, but that's what it felt like when you were handed an odd-smelling bouquet of flowers, standing awkwardly next to the brunette who you were apparently to keep the company of all night, though he might as well have been a stranger. 

Daniel was nice enough.

He complimented your dress and your makeup, smiled and pulled out your chair before you sat down at your assigned table.

But it felt weird accepting praise and chivalry from him when your heart was busy beating erratically at the simple thought that your dress matched Rafe's eyes.  

The venue is extravagant like it always is, what with it's elaborate crystal chandeliers, ice sculptures, and floral center pieces larger than your head. 

At your table, you note your and Daniel's name cards labeling your seats. Next to them, are Topper, Kelce, and Rafe's. There's a sixth seat that has no label and you tilt your head to the side thoughtfully, considering that Topper or Kelce must be bringing a date. 

"This place is incredible. Your dad is so impressive." Daniel says in awe from the seat next to you. His eyes trail around the room, wide in amazement, reflecting back all the vibrant lights in the brown of his pupils.

You smile weakly at him, tucking a strand of loose hair behind your ear that always seems to take flight despite your attention to detail.

"Yeah, he's really something. Likes to orchestrate a big show. You should see him at the winter ball. Live doves, and everything." 

Daniel nods, moving on to say something that starts to sound unintelligible when something else piques your interest. Someone else. Multiple someones, entering the banquet hall. 

Craning your neck, you make out Topper and Rafe. And a girl. 

No. Topper... and Rafe and a girl. She has her arm tucked around Rafe's as he escorts her in the direction of your table. He's wearing the grey tux you like, the one he wore to Rose's sister's wedding with the ornate thread detailing. His smile makes the two halves of your heart squeeze together. 

"Hey, you okay? You're squeezing that wine glass pretty tight there."

Daniel likely means well, eyeing the way your fist clenches around the stem of the glass you've yet to take a sip from. You shoot him an embarrassed smile and release your straining fingers.

An emotional support water bottle sounds like it would be really nice right now. 

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little nervous... my dad always gives a speech at these things." You explain.

As the trio begins to approach, you realize it's Shelley Thompson gripping Rafe's arm, a sweet girl you knew from the Kook Academy.

Even now, she always waves when you run into her at the Island Club, and she has a swing on the golf course like no other.

She's a good match for Rafe. You hate to admit it, but it's true.

When Daniel speaks again, you can barely hear him.

"I'm sure you have nothing to worry about." Daniel chuckles. "I have a hard time imagining that your dad would be bad at anything..."

Topper, having heard the tail-end of your conversation, plunks himself down in the chair across from yours and rubs his forehead tiredly. You shudder at the way he smiles empathetically at you. Like there's something to be consoled about. 

"Hangover?" You ask, shoving the shaky feeling down and shooting him a teasing smirk.

He groans loudly and buries his face in his hands.

"That's the understatement of the year. Feels like I'm getting my skull bashed in." He mutters through the skin, then he peels his head away and grimaces at the screechy music being played. If there was one thing your dad was bad it, it was decent music taste. Topper laughs heartily, shaking his head. "Then again, maybe I am." 

The lightheartedness is interrupted for a moment as Rafe and Shelley pull up to the table, taking their seats accordingly. Rafe rakes his eyes over Daniel for a few seconds, but otherwise stays silent and it makes you frown. You look at him, desperately trying to uncover if he remembers any details from last night, but his expression is unreadable.

Shelley, on the other hand, grins at you enthusiastically and starts to chat with you about the time she interned at your dad's company. 

You find yourself glancing at Rafe every so often, each time catching him staring blankly ahead or at his lap, and always fidgeting with his fingers. 

"Who's this?" He asks suddenly, nodding his head at the man next to you. 

"Oh." You swallow. "This is Daniel."

Finding that insufficient, Daniel takes it as an opportunity to formally introduce himself. 

"That's me." Daniel waves sheepishly, gently squeezing your shoulder with his other hand. "Y/N's been showing me around. Well, her and her dad. I really love what Mr. Y/L/N's been doing with his company. He does some incredible work out here. It's not often that you see-,"

Topper snickers when he cuts him off. 

"Maybe he should've been your date."

Daniel laughs it off, blushing slightly and concealing it in a short cough. But you kick Topper under the table in retaliation, ignoring the way he holds his shin and groans out a soft "Ow!". 

After that, Shelley, Topper, and Daniel divulge into conversation, shifting from topic to topic and at some points, sharing boisterous laughs together.

Rafe keeps his lips pressed together and his words concise. While you fiddle with your utensils, you feel his eyes on you, igniting heat under your skin. 

He stares at you hard, like he's waiting for you to say something. Begging, even, with the way his forehead tenses and his brow stays quirked.

But you didn't know what to say.

Or maybe you didn't know how to say it. Especially not here. Especially not when he had a date. 

Rafe rolls his eyes and chews on the inside of his cheek, standing from the table abruptly, the movement making the cutlery tremble.

"Hey, I have an idea." He says while tugging on Shelley's hand. "Let's dance."

You watch as Shelley squeals with excitement, jumping from her seat to follow Rafe towards the center of the large room where the music is playing. 

"Couldn't pay me to get closer to that band." Topper mumbles offhandedly. You're sure he's trying to make it sting less, but some pains don't have a perfect antidote. 

Daniel sends you a look, silently asking if you want to join them. 

"Maybe later." You reply quietly. 

Watching Rafe wrap his arm around Shelley's waist, you feel your heart sink slowly into your stomach.

In the middle of Daniel's rambling and Topper's occasional acknowledging hums, you rise from your seat and stumble into the courtyard for some fresh air.

Surely, your heart would keep sinking if you saw any more, and your heels were too tight to fit anything else. 

The courtyard is a beautiful mix of greenery, fairy lights, and concrete statues, but it does little to ease the ache in your chest. You sit on a stone bench and try to control your breathing with your head between your knees. 

Though it's turbulent and shallow at best.

"What's wrong?"

You know it's Rafe without looking up. Sighing into the palms of your hand, you slide them down from your face and lift your head up. Surely, your makeup is smudged, and the thought makes you more miserable.

"Nothing." You say more sharply than you intended. "Nothing's wrong. Just go away, Rafe."

He looks at you completely scandalized. 

"Are you... mad at me?"

You let out a deep breathe, averting your gaze to the ground as you collect yourself. "No, I'm not mad. Why would I be mad?"

Rafe scoffs, entirely unconvinced. He rakes a hand through his hair in frustration. 

"Well, fuck, if this is 'not mad', then I don't want to see what mad looks like." 

"Can you just drop it? Please, Rafe? Drop it?" You beg, sniffling slightly as you stand. You hadn't noticed when your cheeks started to get wet. Likely too much in denial.

Despite the way it's honoured you in the past, crying was offering no release at this point. It's not like any of this was Rafe's fault. Even if he had gotten your hopes up last night, he wasn't obligated to act on drunken pillow talk. Maybe he hadn't meant it in the first place and was only trying to make you feel better.

"You won't talk to me." He says sadly.

You bite down on every explanation you want to give him. Chest pain heavy and unrelenting.

"Just... go back to Shelley, Rafe. She's probably waiting for you."

Rafe looks puzzled when the words fall weakly out of your mouth.

Then, he nods, like something finally clicks for him. He meets your eyes with fervor as he presses his lips together.

"So, this is about Shelley?" He asks.

Your head hangs and silence intensifies between you. It speaks for itself.

"The same Shelley that's been fucking Kelce on and off for the past two years?"

He watches your mouth fall open and eyebrows furrow, continuing as you stare at him.

"Kelce promised to take her out on a real date, but then he got caught up at work... asked me to keep Shelley company until he showed up. We didn't come here together, together, Y/N. I thought you knew that." 

Your mind buzzes as he speaks, bottom lip wedged under your teeth.

So, he wasn't here with Shelley. And he probably did remember both what he heard and said last night if he could recognize that you were jealous.

Jealous. It makes you squeeze your eyes shut. The feeling was always two-fold. A person would feel jealous, then humiliated that they had. You don't know which one is worse.

You peak an eye open, chewing through your words. "Why couldn't Topper do it?" 

"Have you met Topper?"

That was a good point. 

Still reeling from the new information, you look down at your lap pensively.

"But you did." Rafe begins after a few beats of silence. When you frown in confusion, he clarifies. "... come here with someone."

You crane your neck up to look at him. There's something you can't place in his eyes, but it's cloudy and all-consuming. His hair is a mess from the way he's been ruffling through it, and his cheeks are flushed and tight.

"What, Daniel? Are you kidding me? I only brought him because my dad ask-," you begin to explain, but Rafe cuts you off. 

"I don’t care why he thinks he can touch you. I just want him to stop.”

Despite the small gust of wind that blows past you both, you feel a warmth at the base of your neck... in the palms of your hands. Maybe it was the beams of light overhead, illuminating your bodies amidst the greenery.

Or, maybe it was just Rafe's words.

The intensity of his gaze. The way he steps towards you as he speaks them, warm hand eventually reaching out to graze over your cheek in a way that makes you gasp in a mixture of shock and excitement. 

For a moment, you think about yourself and the many soul-crushing nights spent watching Rafe talk to and touch and kiss other people, the overlapping visuals making you queasy. 

"I know the feeling." You say quietly, hot breath fanning over his face.

Rafe frowns a little, soaking up the meaning of your words. He nudges his face closer to yours, until your noses are touching and his lips just barely graze over the pair he desperately wants to taste. He draws back suddenly, suspending all the air in your lungs. 

He eyes you cautiously, challenging silently as he licks his lips.

"Not gonna do anything unless you ask." 

You nearly cry out in response. "Rafe, please. I... I want you." Ignoring the way your desperation makes your skin feel tingly and your head spin, you shut your eyes tightly, realizing that only really skimmed the surface. You try again, gulping. "I've always wanted you."

"Fuck." He breathes out, eyes fluttering shut. "Never stop saying that." 

Stifling the sound of another whine from your lips, Rafe kisses you feverishly.

He moves his soft lips in tandem with yours, swallowing each of your breathy moans. One of his hands traces over the swell of your jaw while the other stretches tenderly around your throat. "Know what I wanted to do when I saw you sitting there next to him?" 

You nearly scream in protest when Rafe pulls his lips off yours, but fall silent when he trails kisses down from your jaw to your neck and collarbones, sloppily sucking the skin then laving his tongue over the afflicted areas. Unsatisfied until your pushing his head away from the sensitivity. 

"Wanted to knock his fucking teeth out." He murmurs with his head buried in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent and leaving searing kisses. "But I don't do that shit anymore. So I'll ruin his night a different way."

Rafe moves your body with his until the backs of your knees hit the concrete bench. Your mouth falls open as he sits you down on it, kneeling in front of you. He presses a ticklish kiss to your knee and his bright blue eyes peer up at you through his lashes. When you nod, he parts your thighs and pulls your panties down in a single unbroken movement, committing every second to memory.

He stares longer than he should, groaning at the way your wetness collects on his finger when he traces a finger over your slit, spreading you apart. 

"Can't believe," he moans into your mound, running the flat of his tongue over your center again and again. "... you kept me from this pussy for so long." 

You throw your head back at the sensation, finding nothing but air and Rafe to support you as pulls you closer to his mouth.

"That," you say in a broken moan at the feeling of Rafe's tongue inside you. "That's your fault, remember? I was always here — shit! Waiting for you.”

Rafe hums against your pussy at that, neither agreeing or disagreeing. His nose nudges your clit as he tastes you greedily. You tug at his hair to dissipate some of the energy building inside your core, but it only makes Rafe work harder. 

"Didn't think I deserved you." He admits, pink lips mesmerizing and wet with your slick and his spit. Rafe takes your clit into his mouth and sucks obscenely, the slurping sound sending a flash of heat through you. "Doesn't matter now. I'm good at making up for lost time..."

Your thighs clamp around Rafe's head as he fucks you with his tongue. It's only now, as gasps and high-pitched sounds fall wantonly from your lips that you come to the reality that you're letting Rafe eat you out in the courtyard, and anybody from the party could come here and find you. Still, you moan less controlled than you would have hoped when he suckles at your clit again, drinking at your sopping pussy.

"Hey, have some common decency, huh? There's some very nice people in there trying to enjoy a party." 

Rafe smirks when you pull at his hair even harder, mostly at the thought that you think it could be reprimanding when he likes it so much. His teasing does more to turn you on than you'd care to admit and he can tell with the way you gush around him.

"One of em's your date." He adds, laughing slightly as he curls his tongue inside you. Entranced at the way it makes you whimper and writhe like putty under him. He starts rubbing your clit with his thumb at the same time, chasing the crest of your orgasm. "C'mon, baby. Give it to me. Come all over my tongue." 

Your release makes your back rise off of the slab of cement you're seated on, thighs slotted over Rafe's shoulders as he licks you through your climax.

The pleasure is insurmountable, your mouth falling open and your eyes screwing shut as that familiar feeling completely overwhelms your senses, the burn of your elbows against the cement keeping you anchored to the ground. 

Rafe smiles when you pull him by the belt of his dress pants to capture his mouth in a long and sweet kiss. It helps clean up the residual wetness. 

By the time Kelce makes it your father's charity event, he sighs tiredly into the crown of Shelley's head, pressing a wet kiss there in greeting. On his way in, he got trapped in a conversation with your father and some guy he'd never seen before named Daniel who was more inclined to kiss your dad's ass than he was to breathe.

Finally taking his seat next to a very drunk Topper, he squints his eyes at the sight before him. You and Rafe, unable to keep your hands off each other, giggling at nothing in particular. And when not giggling, kissing.

"Are you seeing this shit?" Kelce asks Topper, gesturing towards his two closest friends shoving their tongues down each other's throats. Shamelessly, at that.

"Dude." Topper groans, sighing like this was no surprise to him. "Where the fuck have you been?"

a/n: thank you for reading! comments/reblogs appreciated!!

[clegfly]

WAUGHHHH HEHEHEHEH… they’re so silly-

On hero’s design, there’s actually a LOT lost here because of the context of the doodle ahsjsjsj- hero’s main thing is that he’s like. An early 30’s-40’s cartoon character??? Which is what his silly little mittens are JSJSJS- he also has the little Pac-Man eyes if you squint!! They’ll be more apparent on other arts hehe. He’s also rendered fully monochrome which is silly… there’s a lot of symbolism there which the phone ties into as well but I think I might just leave you to dissect that for now since I LOVE hearing your thoughts on these

And yes!!!1!2! Mari!!!!!!! Main thing I do on designs ALWAYS look out for the joints and segmented fingers hehe puppet radar forever… there’s a LOT with mari and her design and lore and all that but that’s stuff I’ll probably touch on later… ough she makes me sad :( love her. Both hero and mari deserve the world augh </3

Also her eyelashes are just stolen from Pomni LMAO. Peak design Gooseworx 10/10 goes really well on my atelophobic/athazagoraphobic creature

sobbing because i CANT draw for the night and i am PLAGUED by tadc au heromari rn they are tormenting me

[trashogram]

He Chose You (P. 5)

Lucifer/Reader — Lucifer wants you to be the mother of his child. Rated E for the smut. FINALLY

(Hope none of y’all were planning to actually get off though).

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 | Part 13.5 | Part 14 | End

“You want a… baby?” 

Lucifer looked as stunned as you felt. He reminded you of a spooked deer — frozen and wide-eyed as he waited for imminent death. Or more aptly a dying fish as his mouth opened and closed soundlessly. 

“… To hang out with?”

Lucifer found himself in your apartment for the second time, milling about beside your coffee table. He internally scolded himself for fidgeting and shifting from one foot to the other, but it was either that or burn a hole in your head with his hopeful gaze.

“No!” He let out a pathetic laugh. “Well, yes, b-but obviously not just that! I know there’s more to it than just ‘hanging out’.”  

“I'm not stupid.” He chortled again before glancing at you. “… I’m not that stupid.” 

The King had the uneasy feeling that you might see right through him now; find that inkling of excitement still germinating in his breast, and change your mind. Or worse, you’d withdraw even more and he’d have to feel that dreadful, terrible, no good shame. 

He had practically skipped through the halls of his castle (unbeknownst to you) with the contract held tightly between his claws.  But as soon as he entered your fireplace, the excitement had curdled like milk. It was replaced by that shame when he looked at you and saw your ashen face. 

“Obviously you wouldn’t be doing this for free!” Lucifer gesticulated wildly. “You, you said you wanted to travel right? Right! If you agree, you’d get to travel wherever you want, whenever you want, no strings attached!”

“A-and also! No more costs, period! All your bills and expenses paid forever, in perpetuity, beyond the grave! Capitalism is a bitch? No, capitalism WAS a bitch!”

“No, no! Capitalism will be YOUR BITCH!” 

Your resigned countenance combined with the memory of his pitch made Lucifer flinch. 

——

You were never very good in a crisis. Or under a severe amount of pressure… or a moderate amount, in all sincerity. 

But you’d have thought, even with the prospect of homelessness looming over your head, that you’d have drawn the line at making a Deal with the Devil to avoid it. 

Or at least you would’ve taken more than the time it took to draw up a legal contract to accept your fate.

That time maxed out to 6 days. 

The scroll unfurled before you. It radiated an ethereal golden light, and lined with a litany of official statements occasionally broken up by blank spaces meant for a (second) signature. 

         Lucifer Morningstar was signed here and there, in the same glittery calligraphy as was on his business card.

‘This contract must be interpreted by the Governances of Heaven [Heofon, Himmel, Kem, ἄκμων, آسمان, अश्मन्] and any litigations associated with Hell [Hel, Hallju, Kel]…’

‘… By this contract, Party A agrees to carry the Seed of Party B, hereafter known as “Father”, to the extent of natural gestation as governed by the Law of Nature…’ 

‘… This union shall be recognized only within the parameters listed and not heretofore or after…’

The legal jargon was giving you a headache. You scrubbed a hand down your face, determined to at least read through it all and, if you couldn’t pick out tiny discrepancies, at least find any giant red flags. 

(Even if you’d already reserved the excuse that it was easy to be tricked by the Devil when the Devil was insanely good at presenting himself as a theatrical little man who wore his heart on his suit sleeve).

           Then again, would it not just be easier to sign away your life without regard to the consequences?

Lucifer twitched when you groaned on your seat at the table. “Problem?” 

You rose slowly from your hunched position to make eye contact. “… My pen isn’t working.” 

You demonstrated by scribbling randomly on the sticky notepad beside his scroll. Lucifer responded instantly, left hand flexing in the air and, with a flashy poof, snatching a fancy pen out of thin air. 

“You can keep it” He said, grinning as you accepted it with a sour look. 

“Thanks… show-off.” You began scribbling your name in half-assed cursive on every blank line in sight.

The grin on Lucifer’s face became borderline manic as soon as you’d crossed your ‘t’s and dotted your ‘i’s. His teeth glinted in the light from your cheap-ass lamp and it made you wince as you handed the rolled up document back to him. 

“Um, can we maybe skip the kissing stuff?” You asked. “I don’t really want to cut my tongue open.” 

His wounded expression tugged rather annoyingly at your heart. 

“Sorry.” 

The smile he gave your mumbled apology was strained at best. “No, no I understand. The fangs were daunting to me when I first got them, too.” 

You cocked your head, thoughts materializing like the web of a spider. 

“That’s actually something we should talk about.” You voiced your thoughts. “Are we compatible? Down there?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean — you don’t have teeth down there, too… right?” You asked. “Or some kind of eldritch horror miasma that I can’t touch lest I fall into a coma from ecstasy? Or a tentacle?” 

“No!” Lucifer looked mortified. “Wh-what is wrong with you humans?!” 

“I’m sorry! I’m just asking!” You cried. 

You continued when his expression stayed stagnant. “Look, I’m sorry if I offended you but I’m about to become intimately acquainted with… it, and I think I should be prepared!”

Your hellish companion stood, eyes closed, hands folded over his mouth as if in prayer. He breathed in slowly, then out. 

“You’re right, you’re right. I’m sorry it’s… it’s been a while since I’ve been with a human.” He reasoned. “It’s good to ask questions. It’s—that’s a good one. Do you have any more?” 

That made you pause. There were millions of things you could ask the King of Hell and yet not one thing could properly formulate in your brain. 

“Um, I need a second to think about it.” You muttered. “What about you? My setup is pretty basic? I guess? I have a womb. At least I did, at my last physical a year and a half ago.” 

Lucifer’s lips twitched upward in a half-smile and there was an answering flutter from your stomach. “I know.”

Your eyebrows shot up and he immediately started babbling. “I mean! I know because the contract went through! The ink would’ve turned red… or disappeared… To be honest, I don't know. I haven’t made a deal in a long time, ha ha. But I remember something happens when there’s a technical issue!” 

“Ah,” You felt better with that explanation. 

Kind of. 

“I thought of a question, actually. Sorry.” You shrugged sheepishly. “It’s probably in the contract but…”

You swallowed down your trepidation. “… I won’t die, right?”

Suddenly unable to look him in the eye, you faced the floor and missed the way Lucifer’s face fell. 

“Barring the normal risks that come with being pregnant, nothing else is gonna happen, right? Or if it does, it won’t be agonizing?” You asked quietly. 

A moment of silence passed before the ex-Angel’s fingers curled under your chin. Your head rose and you saw Lucifer's eyes soften from something sharper and more determined. 

“I will do everything in my power to protect you and the baby.” He said firmly. “Nothing terrible will happen to either of you. I swear.” 

It was strange, the effect his words had on you. The jittery feeling in your chest slowly disappeared, and the tears forming in your eyes didn’t fall. 

“Okay.” You nodded with a barely there, watery smile. 

——

“I’m gonna turn off the lights, ok?” You said over your shoulder. 

Lucifer was undoing the last of the buttons of his dress shirt, vest and overcoat already laid neatly over your desk. He met your gaze, eyes bright. 

“Of course.” His close-lipped smile struck you, but you flipped the light switch before you could think on it. 

A lack of light did very little to suppress Lucifer. He seemed to glow like the star of his namesake, flourishing in the dark and hard to miss. You simply hoped, as you pulled at your sleeves, his shine wouldn’t illuminate the terrain of your body. 

Cold air hit your skin, goosebumps rose along your bare arms and shoulders, but you persisted. When everything was shucked save for your underwear, you moved to your bed and realized Lucifer was still standing at the baseboard. 

With arms crossed, you assumed the same position at the side of the bed. “Um?”

“Ladies first!” He chimed, as if reading your mind. 

You sighed, then slowly climbed onto the mattress and awkwardly pulled the comforter from under your butt. You settled and patted a spot in front of you. 

Hesitantly, Lucifer accepted the invitation, and he was sitting next to you before you could blink. 

No going back now. 

You shifted in your spot uneasily. Fuck, it had been a long time since you had sex. 

How did you start this shit again? 

No kissing — per your own request. You had half a mind to take it back while you sat there floundering, trying not to let the tangible awkwardness break your resolve entirely. 

You could do this. For a lifetime of no work, no bills, no cares. 

You could do this.

A bit of movement in the dark caught your eye. You glanced down and realized that Lucifer was twiddling his thumbs waiting for you. 

The laugh came bubbling from your throat before you could stop it. Reaching out, you grabbed one of his hands and tugged him forward.

You could see his throat constrict as he swallowed and smiled questioningly. “What?”

Lucifer yelped when you laid back, taking him with you. 

——

“Ah! F-fu — Slow down!” You scolded, words muffled as you were repeatedly pushed down into the pillows. 

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, you just,” Every word was punctuated by a sharp snap of his hips against the flesh of your ass. “Feel. So. Fucking. Good.” 

Lucifer moaned loudly as he continued to lose himself in the sensation. You could only groan, irritation building as your partner refused to give you even the most basic attention. The frustration peaked quickly, then unraveled as his pleasured moans and squeaks caused your stomach to somersault over and over again. 

You clenched around his cock when he whined, thrusting into you so deeply you felt the base of him stretching your hole that much wider. 

Well, fuck you for finding the sound of a masculine voice cracking the hottest thing in all of creation. 

But it was actually getting you there, so what were you complaining for?

          Eyes closed, you focused on the feeling, trying to jump off that precipice with only penetration. It reminded you of when you were a teen, awkwardly feeling around down there. Of trying to find the appeal in your fingers inside of somewhere so sensitive against the fear of hurting yourself. All while you worked yourself up with your own imagination. 

In a perfect world, you would’ve moved on from that stage of life with no repeat performances. Hopefully, it could still be salvag—

You gripped the pillows that hadn’t tumbled off the juddering mattress when Lucifer’s claws dug into your hips. He pulled you as close as humanly possible with a strangled yelp, shivering, shuddering, stammering incoherence as warmth flooded your insides. 

Fuck’s sake.

——

You were disappointed, but not surprised. All you could do after the fact was bury yourself in the covers and watch Lucifer catch his breath beside you. 

Not finishing aside, exhaustion from the entire ordeal made you indolent and your thoughts hazy. You studied your partner as he calmed down, clearly trying not to be too close to you now that the deed was done. 

Lucifer’s hair was in disarray, the space between his eyes and across his cheeks rosy like the blots parallel to his smile. 

“Hey.” 

Lucifer looked at you innocently, waiting. You could physically feel your walls crumbling down despite yourself. 

“Come here.” You murmured, hand sliding beneath the covers to touch that poreless skin. 

Damn you and your soft heart. 

‘Actually…’ You had Lucifer in your arms, his body still warm. Once he was in your grasp, the King melted against you. 

He looked a little afraid as you tilted him up by the chin to look at you. The Devil had surprisingly soulful eyes, questioning whatever you had in store. 

The tiny thought that he was being way too vulnerable drew a taut, uncomfortable feeling your chest. 

“Kiss me.” 

Lucifer blinked in rapid succession — surprise, wonder, confusion and hope bloom all at once on his unusual face. 

It made you laugh in the quiet, comfortable darkness of your room before you yourself leaned in and met his lips with your own. The line of Lucifer’s mouth trembled, but he reciprocated with only minor hesitation. 

* Tag List: @crescent-z, @for-hearthand-home, @undertale-is-sansational, @loslox, @navierkalani, @yaimlight, @ivoryviness, @crystalplays28, @flowerempress, @wally-darling-hyperfixation, @altruisticradiodemon, @moonlight-readings, @halparkebitch, @charliecharlie65, @sockgoblin, @cocomollo, @caniseethefourthsword, @squeegeeclean, @crow-twink, @an-emovision, @marydragneell, @lafy-taffy, @fandom-imagines1,

Please let me know I missed tagging you!

[antianakin]

I hope this doesn't come off as a knock on the Jedi - because that's sure as hell not my intention - but I do sometimes wonder what could convince a parent to hand their young child over to them. Like, I get that the number of Jedi is miniscule compared to the expected population of the galaxy, and this whole ask is likely just the result of my modern, western, nuclear family-based upbringing. But there are times when I can barely see such a thing happening at all. I mean, if you're a Jedi Seeker, what the hell are you supposed to say to get a mother to willingly give you her infant child?

Again, I do hope this doesn't come off as a knock on the Jedi and their methods.

Maybe consider that the Jedi never seem to be actively going out there trying to convince people into giving up their children. They primarily seem to discover children on their own or who are in bad situations, or the parents call THEM of their own volition and the Jedi simply respond to the call.

You can also look at TPM and the way Qui-Gon handles it with Shmi. Now obviously Shmi and Anakin are in a somewhat different situation than most, given that they're both slaves, which would probably make Shmi's reaction to the offer different than those of regular parents, but Qui-Gon treats her as an equal to himself and as an authority regarding Anakin. He respects that authority by speaking to SHMI before he speaks to Anakin, by asking Shmi different questions about Anakin's past and his powers. And it's Shmi who picks up on what Qui-Gon is carefully NOT saying and asks if Anakin could become a Jedi. And that question lets Qui-Gon know that Shmi isn't against the offer being made to Anakin, so when he makes it official, he speaks to ANAKIN directly. But even after that, he still seems to respect Shmi's authority and her place in Anakin's life when Anakin turns to her more than once.

Shmi seems to primarily just want a better life for Anakin. Even without the slavery situation, she seems to recognize that Anakin's abilities mean that he has the opportunity for a specific career path if he wants it and she chooses to give him that opportunity because she never wants to hold him back. She recognizes that it would be cruel to deny him the opportunity simply to keep him with her.

So it's possible some parents probably view it the same way, that they're giving their child the opportunity for a better life than the one they can offer themselves.

Other parents, like Ahsoka's, seem to view being a Jedi as something of an honor. Even though they CAN give Ahsoka a good life, they recognize that Ahsoka has perhaps a greater destiny that they shouldn't stand in the way of and are HAPPY when Ahsoka shows signs of Force sensitivity. It's not just an honor for Ahsoka, it's an honor for her family and the entire village that she has the opportunity to become a Jedi. The other thing to take into account with this scenario is that the Jedi are sort-of seen as following a call to destiny of sorts, and there appear to be communities who understand that better than most, which means they're likely more inclined to let their child follow that call if the signs make themselves apparent. Groups with their own Force sects (like Lasat, Kel Dor, Chalacatans, etc) might be some of the ones more likely to understand this, which is why we see some of them with multiple family members in the Order at the same time.

These seem to be the most likely options for why a parent might give their child to the Jedi even if they love the child and would otherwise want to keep and raise them. There are also likely some parents who simply don't WANT a Force sensitive child for whatever reason, or parents who just take the first opportunity to offload an unwanted child when it presents itself. Not every parent is a good one, obviously.

I've seen some people argue that Force sensitivity might be something very difficult for a non-Force sensitive parent to deal with, and so they give the child away because they ultimately decide that they cannot appropriately raise a child with powers they cannot control. I don't really buy into this one because neither Luke nor Leia are raised by Force sensitive parents and there doesn't seem to be any issues with control there that we ever see or hear about. But it's POSSIBLE a parent might believe that they couldn't manage a child with Jedi powers and give them up on that assumption, even if it isn't true.

So, yeah, there could be any number of reasons a parent might choose to give their child to the Jedi, even if they love the child and would otherwise want to raise them. It isn't a choice that's going to be for everyone, obviously, and the Jedi have an entire list of people who have either said no or maybe/not yet that they keep in the Temple as a record. So some parents DO say no and choose to raise their children on their own even if the opportunity to give their child to the Jedi is made available to them. Or they simply need time to make the decision or want a little extra time WITH the child before giving them to the Jedi even if they know that that's ultimately what they're going to do.

I don't think the Jedi ever say anything to "get" a parent to give up a child they love. That's never their goal. Qui-Gon talks to Shmi about what Anakin's powers are and how they work, he tells her what her options are, and then leaves the rest of it up to her. All he does is give her more information to work with and an opportunity to act on it if she so desires. That's it. I can't imagine any other Jedi doing any more than that unless the situation between the parent and the child was particularly dangerous somehow and even then, I imagine there are lines they'd try not to cross. The whole episode where we see Cad Bane pretending to be a Jedi in order to convince the parents to give up their children shows us that the parents really DON'T expect the Jedi to do this kind of thing and feel perfectly entitled to say no when it happens.

It's not a choice every parent is going to make, and that's fine. It's not a choice that everyone even needs to UNDERSTAND, necessarily. Different people are going to have different ideas of what's best for their child and how to go about providing that. One parent might feel like giving their child away IS the best thing they can do for their child, even if they could give that child a wonderful life. Another parent might feel like that's the worst thing they could do to their child, even if their situation isn't ideal. These parents are likely to never understand the decision the other one made, but they're making decisions out of the same desire to protect and care for their child. Both are entirely valid choices and there isn't necessarily a right or wrong choice in this situation and that's what the Jedi would understand. All they're there to do is offer information and the opportunity to both parent and child, nothing more, nothing less. What the parent (and the child if they're old enough) does with that is entirely up to them.

[suzukiblu]

Ko-fi thank-you sentences for Kel; Jason gets knocked up and accidentally goes home about it. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

Even Tim’s asleep on the edge of the nest that Jason is inexplicably in. Like, all curled up and hugging his laptop like a teddy bear, but definitely asleep. And Dick’s on the other side of the thing, and that’s Cass pressed up against his back and–is Damian hugging him? In his sleep? Without a visible knife in hand?! 

Jason might’ve fallen into an alternate reality again. Fallen very, very far into an alternate reality. 

At least hopefully, anyway, because if this is his reality, he’s gonna have to deal with whatever the fuck happened last night, and whoever even built this nest that smells like the whole damn Wayne pack and slopes like–like Catherine’s used to, like . . . like . . . 

Fuck. This is his nest, isn’t it. This is exactly how he builds the damn things every time he fucks up enough to go feral. And he definitely went feral, because he doesn’t remember a thing about last night after accidentally ending up at the manor like an idiot, except–wait, no, shit, now he is remembering things about last night, and they’re all fucking mortifying. 

Fuck. 

He needs to get out of here. He has no idea why anybody humored him taking over the living room like he thought he–like he actually–

He needs to get out of here, because the moment somebody wakes up and tells him he needs to leave or, worse, pities him enough to not immediately tell him he needs to leave, he’s gonna lose his entire damn mind. If he just–

Cass’s fingers flex against his chest, very briefly, and he nearly panics. 

Of fucking course he couldn’t wake up in Cass’s arms unnoticed. 

“Jason,” she says quietly, and then Jason is officially fucked, because nobody in this room is gonna sleep through someone actually speaking. 

Why the hell couldn’t she at least have signed it? Why the hell couldn’t–

And then he registers that Bruce is in the room. 

Everyone else wakes up at the sound of Cass’s voice saying his name at the exact same moment that Jason freezes at recognizing Bruce’s scent. 

Bruce’s–Bruce’s . . . sire scent. Not on him, but . . . but still here. Still in the room. 

Jason hasn’t been this close to Bruce’s sire scent since– 

He’s not going to think about that. 

He’s definitely not going to think about that. Not ever. Not for anything. Not–

( he’d scrubbed it off so ANGRILY, that last time; so angry and betrayed and– 

he’d regretted that, on the warehouse floor. he wouldn’t have been able to smell it through the scent blockers in Robin’s suit, but–but–

he’d regretted– )

Jason isn’t thinking about that.

[crowbasils]

ON WHY BASIL AND SUNNY, WHILE NOT BEING OPPOSITES ON A SURFACE LEVEL, ARE OPPOSITES ON A MORE DEEPER LEVEL — 🪴

SPOILERS FOR OMORI’S PLOT!

Despite acting similar, they do contrast in ways that highlight the character trait of the other.

While SUNNY doesn’t particularly desire to be loved and doesn’t suck up to others, he is cared for and wanted by others. this contrasts BASIL who desires to be just… wanted by others—to be cared for and loved. despite how much he sacrifices of himself to be wanted by others, he does not receive the same care that he gives out. SUNNY being loved without effort on his part (which, he does canonically feel guilty for, as mentioned in the OMORI fight) highlights BASIL’s struggle just to be wanted around by others. BASIL’s struggle highlights how treasured SUNNY truly is in rhe group—how important he is. This is further reinforced by how everything started to get back together only when SUNNY came out of his house.

We do also see that BASIL is more scared of concepts and events (abandonment, being alone again, interactions, etc.) than things traditionally found scary, such as spiders, heights, even deep bodies of water (despite him not knowing how to swim), even stuff like darkness. This contrasts to how SUNNY is more scared of things that can be found in reality. Spiders, heights, deep bodies of water, etc. He is scared of what is traditionally found scary—things that can usually be found in the real world.

BASIL being scared of such concepts highlights how even dreams aren’t an escape for him—how even his imagination is not a safe space for him. He has nowhere to be safe. Outaide, he has to face the judgement from the hooligans, the stares, the verbal abuse, the physical abuse. Outside, he has to face the guilt of knowing you played a part in destroying the very friend group you loved—the very friend group you took pictures of because you didn’t want to lose them. Inside, he has to face the overwhelming feeling of loneliness, the pain and hurt that comes from once again being alone, the heavy and empty feeling in your heart after being abandoned. This highlights how SUNNY is more scared of the real world—of things like spiders, heights, his friends, the consequences of his actions, the effects of it and how it ruined everyone. He feels the deep guilt of it all, and witnesses the suffering he had caused, and just wants to hide from it all. Just wants to withdraw back to his fantasy world where he’s safe, where harm can’t reach him, where nothing happened. He is more comfortable in his imaginations, having always relied on it when he’s troubled. He is safe there. He can hide there. And he did—for 4 years straight, until the truth’s roots eventually seeped its way into the soil of his headspace in a manner that cannot be uprooted. In a way where BASIL’s feelings and MARI’s thoughts found its way into his dreams.

However, there is a similarity in terms of their fears. Both of them are scared of being alone. however, their reasons for it are different. BASIL is scared of it due how he’s always been alone—desperately doing everything so that people won’t abandon him. Desperately wishing and praying he doesn’t have to go back to that. Whereas sunny’s more scared of it due to him never experiencing how it is to be truly alone with nobody “by his side”. He’s always had people around him, his parents, HERO, KEL, AUBREY, MARI, and BASIL. And him, being scared of the unknown, was terrified at the aspect of how bad it would feel—especially when he’s heard the feelings of one who has experienced it.

The tragedy of their character also contrasts. The tragedy of BASIL’s character lies in him re-experiencing how it is to be stuck with nobody being there by his side again just right after he finally found people who he can rely on and confide in. It lies in him having to go through everything just to be loved again. It lies in losing everything and going back to having nothing once again. While the tragedy of SUNNY’s character comes with the loss of something you have always had by your side. The tragedy of inexperience, and the grief from losing something you loved. The tragedy of being alone when you were always surrounded by loved ones—one way or another.

Even if BASIL wants to be free, no matter how much he does to free himself and SUNNY from everything that happened—he’s still essentially trapped. While SUNNY traps himself deeper via his headspace despite him being the one who could set both himself and BASIL free. He does realize this, though—however, it was too late. He finally realizes how much trapping himself affected BASIL, he finally realize that he needs to be there for him even just for a little while right as BASIL was about to kill himself. SUNNY desperately rushes in to save him, and no matter how much he wants to leave, he decides to stay. There’s no more running away when the life of a friend you love—platonically or not—is on the line.

Perhaps there was a deep sense of jealousy within BASIL towards SUNNY. A deep sense of jealousy that he rejected out of fear of accidentally hurting SUNNY. His color is green, right? The color of hope, of life, of modesty, of renewal, endurance, growth… but also the color of stagnation, isolation, sickness, envy, death. It perfectly incapsulates him, and his feelings towards SUNNY. Towards everyone. Towards himself.

In a way, they’re like the sun and the moon. Whenever SUNNY reaches out for BASIL, BASIL avoids him. Whenever BASIL reaches out for SUNNY, SUNNY runs away. Rather than the waves and the moon, they’re like the sun and moon—running away from each other in cycles. Rinse and repeat. Over and over again.

[pineappleciders]

SPOILERS FOR OMORI MANGA CHAPTER ONE (it's the same plot p much as the game but go read it first if you haven't cuz the art is so cool!!!)

chapter 1 is already available in english and ohh my god. i took so many screenshots i couldn't fit them all so i might make multiple posts LOL

spoilers VV

already off the bat kel looking like a cutie pie, i just know my pfp is gonna be changing

the family photo😭😭😭

i lovee that we're getting more creepy mari

i LOVE how rhe artist gives sunny sm emotion,,, also suntan content om nom nom

they hold hands☹️☹️☹️😞😞

SUNNY POKING TO COMMUNICATE

i love how they look terrified seeing each other after 4 years, when in-game they barely even acknowledge each other

the photos of mari falling out of aubrey's pockets. ok im sobbinf

i like how they changed it to omori being the one to notice aubrey getting stuck and helping her out, when in game i think it was kel(?) that helped her out

ok i have so many screenshots but i can't post them all so i'm gonna give all my thoughts now ab chapter 1!!!

i really love the artists style and how they interpret the interactions in the game. they gave sunny a lot more emotion which is fun to see, i think it's SO cool that we basically get two different POVs from the game and the manga!!! like maybe sunny in the game expresses those emotions too, but he doesn't in his mind. like to stay more similar to omori

i also love the details of how mari looks more creepy, it makes her existence feel more mysterious. but i also love sweet caring mari so i hope we get more of that too!!! i already love seeing different people's perspectives on omori and how they portray the characters, so i'm super hyped to see all of the interactions fleshed out by a new artist!!

i'm SO excited for the next chapter, also super excited for it to be in shelves and i hope i can find it online without it being a bajillion dollars :,) also it's funny how omori was originally gonna be a manga but then it was a game and now it's a manga again, and the new manga looks nothing like the og aaggh it's so cool

[perotovar]

hey sweeties!! kel and i put a list together of all the submissions we got for our event and split them into two masterlists of fics for you all to read and enjoy! this is my part of the list, so if you don't see yours give @beskarandblasters 's list >here< a look and see if that's where your fic/submission ended up!

we can't thank you enough for submitting and helping us give a voice to the smaller writers of the fandom ♥ oh, and for any multi chapter fics/series, we only read the first chapters to make it fair!

please make sure to read each fic's warnings carefully and happy reading! ♥

@iamskyereads - Compulsion (Ezra x ofc!Beatrice)

i can't even begin to describe how much i love this fic already. it's so smart and the worldbuilding?? incredible!! it feels like a sequel to the film, or like it could easily take place in the same universe. just brilliant. and ezra's voice is so clear here, i could hear him saying every word. and the oc, beatrice, is fascinating already, i can't wait to see where it goes!

@all-the-way-down-here - This Is Why We Fight (Dieter x nb!oc!Bell)

i love the start of this. both dieter and bell have excellent characterization and the conversations being had by every character feel so real and are so important. bell's group of friends all sound like friends i would have, and i would love to hang out with them. i love the direction this is going!

@linzels-blog - Delta Palms Tropical Resort (Frankie x f!reader)

ahh what a delightful little fic! it feels very much like an early 2000s rom com and i mean that in the best way! very cute and i love the vibes. everyone's characterization is great and i can't wait to sink my teeth into the rest of it!

@elvenmother - Context and Perspective (Marcus M x f!reader)

completely obsessed with this concept. i love a good enemies to lovers and this is such an awesome way to do it! i always see marcus m fics featuring someone without superpowers, but to have a character that's just as powerful as him? sign me up!

@kedsandtubesocks - In the Dead of the Night (Din x f!reader)

one of my absolute favorite din fics. the worldbuilding and din's creature form is incredible. i love a horror au that's flipped on its head. i also love the "creature is also the hunter" trope and this does that incredibly well. the atmosphere is off the charts.

@ghostofaboy - Rock Bottom (Frankie x original male characters)

god, i don't even know where to begin with this story. it's so raw and visceral and i can't say enough how much i enjoy it. i love reading something new and especially if it's coming from a male perspective. this is, unfortunately, something i could see frankie getting up to. frankie is such a deeply tragic character and this fic does that justice in a dark, but really intriguing way.

@ishabull - The Way We Were Drawn (Marcus P x f!reader)

ohh this is such a sweet fic. i love the imagery painted and the dynamic between marcus and reader is so sweet!

@secretelephanttattoo - Headshots (Marcus P x f!reader)

this fic is beyond sweet and so dreamy. the ideal scenario for anyone, in my humble opinion. who wouldn't want to take pictures of handsome fbi agents and then fall in love with said agent?

@lesbianhotch - you walk by and i fall to pieces (Frankie x f!reader)

THIS WAS THE CUTEST DAMN THING. i love me a nervous frankie (hello, have you read my fic lmao) and this was by far one of the cutest. i'm obsessed with reader's confidence and i just know those two are gonna be menaces once they're together. throw in some patsy cline and i am a goner. this is going on the reread list for sure.

@insomniamamma - Remain Nameless (Ezra & Cee w/ gn!reader)

ok, this one actually made me cry. i'm not sure if it's my own sleep-deprived ass that caused it but this is probably one of the most beautiful but sad fics i've read in a long time. i mean all of this in the best way because i don't normally get emotional from fics. prospect as a movie makes me emotional, though, so it doesn't surprise me that this did as well. it's such an incredible missing scene that i can, unfortunately, see absolutely happening. have some tissues nearby.

@sweetercalypso - Unlikely Friends (Joel x gn!reader)

this fic is one of my absolute favorite fics for joel. a big reason for that is i have a cat named tilly. and imagining joel reluctantly and grumpily cuddling with my tilly makes me emotional, ok??

@softstarlite - The Casualty of Love (Javi P x f!reader)

very cute! i love the awkward tension around not seeing someone for so long and there being a huge glow up maturity-wise from one of them! seeing someone in a new light is always a strange thing and i love the start to these two and their journey!

@julesonrecord - Shots (Jack x f!reader/oc)

probably one of the best post-movie fics i've ever read for jack. the way jack's trauma and therapy is handled is so fucking brilliant and tonic is one of the best fucking characters, god. eva is written so well and i just. i can't recommend this fic enough. if you like jack, hell even if you don't, give this fic a shot. i promise you'll come out of it liking it.

@coulsons-fullmetal-cellist - The Audition (Dieter x f!reader)

goddd this was so cute! dieter's insecurities don't come up very often and i absolutely love what a match he and reader make. she's so sweet with him and takes such good care of him. and he loves her so much and i love them ok

@max--phillips - A Little Lipstick Never Hurts (Max P x f!reader)

this is one of the best explorations into kink that i've ever read. it's so respectful and hot as fuck. completely obsessed with this take on max as a character and i can't get enough of the dynamic between him, reader, (and eventually dieter). it may not be everyone's cup of tea, but i highly encourage you to give it a try. max gets some well deserved lessons taught, and who doesn't love that?

@coastielaceispunk - The Gift of Lingerie (Max L x f!reader)

god, this was so fucking hot. i'm so here for a mentally healed maxwell in a healthy marriage with a fulfilling sex life lol the little bit of teasing on both their parts was beyond sexy and i loved how equal everything felt. ugh, will be rereading this one for sure.

@lotrefcp - Hidden Away (Javi P x f!reader)

i'm obsessed with a no nonsense reader with just as much attitude/sass as javi does lol i just kept reading going GET HIS ASS. an excellent start to a universe i'm excited to sink my teeth into!

@beefrobeefcal - On the Waterfront (Frankie x f!reader)

oh, this is dark. i love the vibes immediately. i've had a weird fascination with the mafia for most of my life and this has that air about it. a dark, chubby mob boss!frankie is right up my alley for sure. i love that he's still frankie tho. sensible, practical, but with an edge. mind the warnings.

@flightlessangelwings - La Estrella de Mi Vida (Javi G x f!reader)

ahhh so romantic and so tragic!! i swear, it's impossible to make javi unappealing but this fic is just so sweet and manages to make me love him even more (somehow). but i love the added drama and tension from outside forces!! i need to read the rest of it asap!

@littlemisspascal - Rockford & Roan (Tim x f!reader)

my god, i love this?? i'm not usually one for superpowers/soulmate au's but i'm in love with the practicality of this? it feels otherworldly without being too much and it's very grounded. i love the reader and the way tim is written is so believable. i love that we as a fandom have created such a visceral image of this character from only a minute's worth of footage!

@something-tofightfor & @the-blind-assassin-12 - Aphelion (Oberyn x Ellaria & f!reader)

goddd the imagery painted in this one. so heartbreaking. absolutely breathtaking. i'm a slut for vampires and i'm a slut for oberyn/ellaria. this is absolutely something i will be reading the rest of lol

@bluestar22x - The Rockford Files (Tim x f!reader)

ok this is insanely good. one of my favorite books of all time is "red dragon" by thomas harris and i felt like i was reading that again while i read this. the details of the case and the cadence of everything was top notch. obsessed with the psychic element thrown in there and i'm beyond excited to see where tim and psy end up next!

bonus:

@sweetenerobert - Fiction vs Reality (Tommy Miller x m!reader)

ohhhh my god. you give me a bisexual tattoo artist tommy miller with stretched ears and i'm supposed to be normal about it??? UNLIKELY. i am extremely tempted to edit this into reality ngl but my god. this was so fucking hot lmao

[foxoftamriel]

Mistborn AU where Ruin is the protagonist and Preservation is the antagonist

Ati was able to control Ruin a little bit more, channeling its Intent to destroy things that harmed humanity. But Preservation still did not like this destruction. He would rather humanity be harmed, but not destroyed, so long as everything in the universe stays stable with all its processes working smoothly. In his mind, Ruin is messing with the natural order of things, so he locks Ruin up. Preservation in this AU is more stable, so he continues to affect things around Scadrial to keep everything The Same. But Ruin was still trying to get out. Alendi and all that stuff happens, but Preservation uses Rashek killing Alendi for his own goals, manipulating him to create an empire without change. It doesn’t matter if people suffer, so long as everything is The Same.

Flash forward to the books, and Ruin manages to get enough of his power into the world to infuse Kelsier with some of it (fun morally good destruction guy, Ruin loves him). Kelsier notices he has some weird powers that he shouldn’t have, and it excites him, but it also freaks him it since he has no idea where it comes from. Eventually, an Inquisitor “accidentally” spikes him so Ruin can speak to him, explaining his plans. Kelsier is excited because a god trying to kill The Lord Ruler? Awesome! So he works with Ruin to kill Rashek. He still dies in this AU but becomes a Cognitive Shadow with Ruin’s Investiture, not Preservation’s.

Ruin figures out that in order to stop Preservation, they *both* need to be destroyed, so most from here on out goes similar to canon, with Harmony/Discord being created. Vin still has to take the power of Preservation to defeat Ruin, which really pisses Kel off.

[southsideserendipity]

What Colour? (Kelly Severide x Reader)

Synopsis: You disobey Kelly’s orders on a call, and he makes sure it’s your last time doing so.

Word Count: 5.6k

WARNINGS: MINORS DNI. Angst, smut, dominant and submissive, P in V, oral (male receiving), choking, overstimulation, edging, squirting, use of the word ‘slut’, daddy kink, lieutenant kink, use of a sex toy (vibrator), unprotected sex (wrap your willy, don’t be silly!!!), pure filth and shitty writing. 

My Masterlist

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“You know what your problem is? You can’t follow orders!” Kelly huffed out, walking into your shared bedroom and ripping his squad jacket off in the process. “You could’ve gotten yourself killed” he spat angrily.

He was upset; there was no doubt about it. And could you really blame him? The man has lost more loved ones than most people would in one lifetime. His overprotectiveness and frustration at what he viewed as blatant ignorance was a direct result of the grief buried beneath him.

You sauntered into the room behind him, ready to defend yourself to no end. “Oh, so when you don’t follow orders, you’re brave and heroic, but when I don’t follow orders I’m just an idiot who’s risking their life?!” You sarcastically reasoned with your boyfriend, upset that this was even a conversation the two of you were having.

“I didn’t say that” he grunted with gritted teeth, sitting on the edge of the bed as he removed his shoes. “Is it become I’m a woman, Kel? Hm?” you asked, slightly taunting him with your hands crossed over your chest. You walked right up to him, attempting to tower over him but failing given he was bigger than you even when he was sitting down.

“Is it because I might land myself in a situation you don’t think I have the ability or strength to get out of? Do you not trust me?” You stared at him with a questioning look, waiting for his rebuttal. Severide had a tendency to go for naturally submissive women - not that there was anything wrong with that - but you personally think this is why he lucked out with you; someone has to give him the same energy back, at least outside of the bedroom.

“That’s bullshit and you know it. You being a woman has NOTHING to do with this.” He stood up to steal the height advantage, and he peered down to look into your eyes, wondering to himself what he was gonna do with you. You, on the other hand, didn’t even flinch by his sudden movement.

“Then what does it have to do with, Kelly? Because I know damn well if you had had the opportunity to go back into that house, you would’ve. So cut the bullshit” you retorted, sick of having to defend yourself to someone a thousand times more reckless than you’ll ever be.

“Maybe I would’ve gone back in, you’re right, but I have the experience that you clearly lack since you think running into a flashover will get you a valor medal rather than a cemetery plot!” He scoffed out. He didn’t understand how you couldn’t see how dangerous your actions were, how you didn’t seem to have an ounce of regret for risking your life.

“Well you’re my lieutenant, aren’t you? I was simply modelling what I’ve observed from your leadership” You said, landing your index finger right into his muscular sternum, but he didn’t move a muscle.

When you said ‘lieutenant’, you attempted to say it without faltering, a hint of seduction evident. What better way to relieve the work day’s stress - and the tension from fighting - than with even more exertion?

“You said it yourself. I’m your lieutenant. I ordered you not to go back in, and you disobeyed me!” He shouted back, flailing his arms out to the side for emphasis and dramatic effect. He clearly was NOT picking up on the hint that you were done with this conversation, ready to move onto less verbal activities.

“How about I make it up to you? Show you that I can listen to your orders…” You looked up at him with those irresistible doe eyes of yours, simultaneously twirling of strand of hair between your fingers. If the sexual tension from the arguing wasn’t solidified before, it sure as hell was now.

“C’mon, don’t wiggle your way out of this by pulling that shit. I won’t hesitate to take you off duty for a mandatory psych eval since clearly you have a death wish.” Sputtering his threat with sarcasm, he rolled his eyes, fighting the urge deep within him to pick you up and toss you onto the bed like a rag doll.

Putting one of your hands on his chest, you brainstormed a way to escalate this into your desired outcome. “Can my punishment be anything but a visit to the shrink’s office? I promise I’ll be good for you.” You tilted to your head to the side, anticipating his response. “Hm, sir?”

You KNOW he can’t resist when you stroke his ego by reminding him who’s in charge, even considering your disobeying of orders earlier that day. What better way to evoke the dominant side of him that you loved so much?

You knew you were putting him - and his dick - through the five stages of grief, because you saw a sudden change in his eyes and before you knew it, he was smashing his lips onto yours.

The force with which he grabbed your face startled you, but you quickly adjusted, kissing back with excitement that your master plan - which you thought about and subsequently executed 3 minutes ago - was being initiated.

You urged him to sit back down on the bed by pushing your body up against him and climbing on top of him as soon as you had the chance- your lips not once removing from his. You rubbed up on him like an unaltered cat in heat as if it would take off the layers that separated you from his already hard cock.

Your lips were devouring each other’s, the sense of urgency and desperation evident. He sucked in your bottom lips with his teeth, and then spit into your mouth as he let go of his sharp pull.

Pulling your face away from his with urgency, he gazed at you intently. It was as if you could see the metaphorical gears in his head grinding as he thought of a way to assert his dominance over you.

“On your knees” he uttered as he removed both of his hands from your face. You were taken aback. After all, you were the one hinting at your desire to get down and dirty, and you just weren’t expecting Kelly to give up on his lecturing so quickly.  But this was your plan all along- get him distracted enough that he would forget about the stunt you pulled on shift (or, at the very least, postpone the reprimanding to a later date).

“I’m not going to ask you again” he spat out, angry that you weren’t immediately obeying. You looked down at him, noticing his pupils had swallowed his iris’ whole; his eyes gleaming with lust and dominance. Removing your legs from around his waist, you lowered yourself down until your kneecaps were on the rug, your body in between his legs, and your face perfectly centred with his bulge.

He motioned towards his belt buckle with his head, a hint of annoyance that you didn’t automatically begin releasing him. You reached up, pulling the length of his belt from under the clasp and removing it from the notch. Sliding it out from under his belt loops, you were about to toss it next to you when Kelly motioned for you to give it to him.

You could already feel the moisture between your legs, and being face to face with Kelly’s manhood only increased your libido. You unbuttoned his work pants, dragged the zipper down, and reached within his underwear.

His cock was NOT hard to find by any means- you took it out and observed it with admiration, the pre-cum very pronounced on his red, bulbous tip.

Kelly had a very nice penis, and I think half of the women in Chicago could vouch for him. Not only did he have a cock with the perfect ratio of girth to length, but he sure as fuck knew how to use it.

Taking the tip of your tongue, you ran it along his head, collecting the white, slippery substance already beginning to ooze out. Goosebumps spread along every inch of his body; he was the one in control, but you always knew how to make him shiver.

Starting at the very base of his shaft and licking all the way up, you didn’t hesitate to take your time with him, the pure enjoyment of providing him with pleasure the motivation behind your performance. Once you made it to the top, you encircled his head with your tongue over and over, making him fling his head back.

After he recovered from your teasing, he decided to take matters into his own hands by grabbing the base of your scalp, urging your throat to engulf his entire length. “Take me like the little slut you are” he whispered dominantly, the hand on the back of your head guiding you up and down periodically, the other placed behind him for support.

When you had reached the very bottom of his shaft, the tip of his dick most definitely touching your tonsils, he pushed you down even further, urging you to choke on him. “Look at me. I want to see how beautiful you look taking all of me in your mouth” he commanded. You peered up at him through your eyelashes, and he couldn’t help but smirk, a smile fighting through the corners of his lips begging to be unleashed.

He looooved to see you take him, and once you had made eye contact as you were told, he was practically using every fibre of his being to prevent himself from sending his load down your throat. The heavenly combination of your gurgling noises as you choked on him with teary eyes caused him to release his hand from your head.

You suctioned his dick as you sucked up his shaft, letting go of him with a pop. A string of saliva connected your lips to his length, and he wanted to capture this moment for the rest of eternity.

You giggled as you observed the look on his face, and it only encouraged you to continue. However, as you were about to get back to pleasuring him, he stopped you by grabbing his dick before you could.

“Nuh-uh. Strip.” He ordered.

This time, you didn’t hesitate to obey his command, your clothes making you feel trapped. You always felt completely comfortable with and around Kelly, and it translated to the bedroom when you were in a naked, vulnerable state.

Grateful that you had showered at the end of shift, you started with your grey squad 3 t-shirt, crossing your arms to grab the bottom of either side of it. Peeling it over your head, you tossed it aside, revealing the grey Calvin Klein sports bra confining your chest.

You removed your leggings, and noticed that you happened to be wearing the matching underwear of the set.

Kelly didn’t take his eyes off of you as you undressed below him, and knowing he was watching your every move as you exposed more and more of yourself made your cheeks turn a crimson red.

You stopped when you were in solely your bra and underwear, expecting him to give you your next command, but he seemed annoyed rather than satisfied.

“I said strip, didn’t I?” he spat through gritted teeth, expecting you to be fully naked for him and wondering how you didn’t catch that the first time he asked you.

You were starting to get into your head, feeling vulnerable about the thought of being completely naked in front of him while he was fully clothed. However, you knew what you had suggested to him in exchange for his scolding to come to an end, and you wanted to follow through.

Turning your mind off, you immediately began removing your undergarments, your horniness beginning to overpower any insecurities you could’ve had about being bare.

As soon as you were fully exposed, you looked up at Kelly as if to tell him you were ready for what was next. His cock jolted, hardening as he looked you up and down, running his tongue along his lips without even realizing.

“C’mere” he muttered, patting the spot next to him. You stood up and you could just feel the wetness between your legs, knowing your slick was about to start dripping down.

Being at times uncomfortable with the amount of lubrication your vagina produced, Kelly always assured you that seeing you so wet filled him with the biggest sense of pride. Knowing he could physiologically alter the state of your body in a way that essentially prepared you to take him made him lose it.

You sat next to him and he once again grabbed your face, kissing you with such passion and force that he was smushing your cheeks together. You kissed him back with the same energy he was giving you; it was as if the rougher you moved your lips against one another, the more pent up sexual energy would be released.

One of his rough, calloused hands reached up to fondle one of your nipples. He rubbed the sensitive and aching bud between the pads of his index finger and thumb, knowing it would turn you on even more than you thought possible.

“Kel… fuck!” You threw your hand back as he began to leave sloppy, wet kisses down the side of your neck, and eventually on the base of your throat. Once his lips reached your collarbone, he found a spot to mark as his and began sucking on the thin skin.

At this point, both of his hands were fondling your breasts, kneading and rubbing them as if he had never touched boobs in his life.

He abruptly stopped sucking - a hickey in it’s very early stages appearing where his lips had been - and stood up.

You looked at him with confusion, a faint red ring starting to form around your lips from his beard brushing against your skin.

Standing at the side of the bed, approximately where you had been a couple minutes prior sucking him off, he ordered you to hang your head off of the bed, and you knew what was coming.

Kelly knew that this was one of your favourite ways to give head; the way it was easier to take him down your throat, the way you - or Kelly - could easily reach between your legs, the way the blood rushed to the top of your head; it was vulnerable, hot, and a perfect way to submit to him.

You spun around quickly and lowered your back onto the bed, shimmying until your shoulders were at the end of the mattress, and you slowly lowered your head back.

Your head was upside down, face to face with Kelly’s cock, and you couldn’t be more excited. He grabbed himself in his hand, and tapped his dick against your lips.

“Open.” And that you did. Your mouth opened to take him, and he slowly entered into you, allowing you to adjust. He didn’t go completely in, but he thrusted at a slow pace into your mouth.

Sure, he was in heaven; there was no doubt about that. But you, on the other hand, were in complete submission and sheer bliss as you engulfed his length. You knew that at this point, there would be a complete puddle beneath your heat by the time you were done, the oral you were giving him in this particular position turning you on indefinitely.

He began to pick up the pace, and you knew he was going to throat-fuck you soon, but he suddenly stopped, half of his dick still in your mouth.

“Spread those legs for me. I want you to touch yourself while I throat-fuck you.” It was as if he would never ask. You widened your hips, spreading your legs with your knees pointed up.

Reaching down you began to play with your pulsating clit, the excessive slick of your heat aiding in your masturbation, and Kelly continued sliding in and out of your mouth.

Finally being able to touch yourself practically had you on the verge of an orgasm, but you knew that when you were the submissive and Kelly was the dominant, he was the one who told you when to release.

He was moving in and out of your mouth much faster than before, and he decided that now was as good a time as any to grab both of your nipples with his fingers and pinch them. The combination of you playing with yourself, him entering your mouth at this angle, and him toying with your extremely sensitive nipples was a recipe for an orgasm, and he knew that.

So, he took himself out of your mouth quickly, a glob of spit connected his cock to your lips as he pulled out completely.

He walked away, spit trickling down the sides of your face. You knew you were most definitely sporting the raccoon look, remnants of your smeared mascara on your upper and lower lash line, but you also knew it was a sexy sight for Kelly to see. You looked ravaged, and knew that once he began to throat-fuck you, the mascara residue would be running down your face along with your tears of pleasure.

You knew better than to move from your fixed position without his permission, so you remained still, awaiting his return.

He came back, lowering himself into your mouth once again. When you heard a click and a buzz that followed, your eyes widened, and you withered beneath him.

It’s not that you didn’t want him to use the vibrator - you most definitely did. It was more the fact that you probably wouldn’t be able to last more than 30 seconds without violently cumming.

He touched the wand to your clit, and as he tapped your mouth with his cock again, you knew he was signalling for you to take him.

The vibrator hadn’t even been on you for 10 seconds and you were already squirming. “Colour?” He asked, removing the vibrator from between you and pulling out of your mouth at the same time. He always made sure to check on you as things began to intensify.

“Green” you breathed out eagerly, wanting him to continue what he was doing.

You used the basic traffic light system whenever you experimented in the bedroom, the both of you making consent the forefront of your sexual encounters. Green means you’re doing okay and are enjoying yourself, yellow means slow down or modify an action, and red was the danger zone, indicating a complete stop was needed.

“I’m going to throat fuck you now” he stated once he had received the all-clear from you.

Before he could even ask you to open for him, you were waiting with your mouth wide open, ready to take his length.

He put the vibrator back on your clit, and began fucking your mouth at a medium pace. The vibrator was operating at it’s lowest setting, but you were shaking like a leaf.

The tip of his dick was so far into your mouth, you wondered how he could go down any more. Once he did, you began to gag, producing an overload of saliva in the process; the sounds you were making music to his ears.  

“Fuckkkk” Kelly moaned out, seeing the - stubborn - woman he was in love with sprawled out, legs spread open and head tilted back, taking him like such a good girl.

Usually, he would shower you with praise when your sexual activities erred towards the rougher side, but with the sheer stress and terror you put him under earlier, he was merely focused on having his way with you.

Once your legs began to shake profusely, he knew you were close which triggered him to remove the toy. This earned a moan of frustration and desperation to escape your mouth; the pleasure you felt was overwhelming, and the edging made you want to combust.

Making you gag on his cock a couple more times, he knew that he also couldn’t postpone his orgasm any longer. He desperately wanted to be inside of you, assuming that by now you’d be gushing for him.

He exited you for the last time, but kept the vibrator on you, wanting to torture you just that bit more. You whined out in pleasure, gurgling in the process given the saliva was dripping out of your mouth.

Shutting the vibrator off, he placed it on your bedside table, unsure about whether or not he’d decide to use it again later. He helped you in sitting up by lifting your shoulders, and you automatically scooted to the top of the bed, centering yourself.

Before he made his way over to you, he reached behind him grabbing the back of his squad 3 t-shirt and lifting it over his head. He revealed his beautifully sculpted chest, a sight you never got tired of seeing.

Finally, he slid his pants off, followed by his tighty whities that made his ass look like a peach. Kneeling onto the bed, he began towards you, the anticipation of the fact that he was finally about to have his way with you nearly killing him.

“How bad do you want this cock inside of your pussy, hm?” Kelly asked, running his thumb through your folds, applying pressure to your clit once he reached the top.

“Very badly” you whined, unable to sit still. Your eyes kept shifting between his, and his cock. His shaft was glistening, and his tip was so profound it looked like he was going to burst any second.

“Very badly what? What do you know to call me?” He gave you a questioning look as he ran his dick across your folds.

“Very badly, daddy. I want your cock inside my pussy very badly” you said, once again in a whiny tone as you peered up at him with glossy eyes.

You don’t know what had gotten into you, why you had the desire for sex more strongly than a drunk frat boy. But what you did know was that if he wasn’t fucking you within the next minute, you would probably disintegrate.

“Spread those legs for me” he commanded, and you did as you were told. Both of you were completely revealed for the other, a level of intimacy achieved that you never thought possible.

Kelly tapped his heavy cock against your folds before gathering your wetness with his head. With one hand on the headboard for support, he used his other hand to guide himself into you.

The feeling of him slowly sinking into you - stretching you out in the process - was well worth the foreplay you had just done. It was as if the buildup made the moment your bodies connected that much more pleasure-filled.

Once he was completely submerged within you, he looked up at you for reassurance and you nodded your head extremely quickly. You usually needed some time to adjust to his size, but you were so ready for him both mentally and physically that you didn’t need the warm-up.

Both of his arms propped his body up, each one planted on either side of your head as he slowly thrust in and out of you. You spread your legs even further as you took him, reviling in the immense euphoria you felt from him fully filling you.

The speed at which he rocked into you quickly hastened as he saw how much enjoyment you were experiencing. Your head was bobbling around as your eyes rolled back in pleasure and multiple gasps escaped from between your lips.

He roughly grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look up at him. “I want you to look at me while I fuck you. You hear me?” Without breaking his pace, he asked if you understood what he was asking of you, and you nodded hastily in agreement.

“Yes, yes” you gushed, doing everything in your power to once again prevent your orgasm from erupting early.

His hand quickly grasped the sides of your throat, the lack of oxygen causing a sudden dizzy feeling that sent you even further into sub-space.

“Yes, what?” As he asked you, he released the grip on the sides of your throat to readjust, and once again squeezed, practically urging you to answer him.

“Yes, lieutenant.” He nearly came immediately inside of you at the sound of you sultrily stating his rank. But he wanted you to come first, not because you deserved to on this particular day, but for something else he had planned.

He quickly slipped out of you, releasing the grip he had on your throat which caused you to look at him in confusion.

He grabbed one of the pillows on your bed and lifted your hips, sliding it beneath you to gain leverage. He then reached for the vibrator, your eyes widening as you watched his every move.

“What colour?” He asked the question as if he were asking you what you wanted for dinner; the ease of his tone made you want to giggle.

“Green” you responded, without even thinking about your answer; you were beyond ready.

As soon as he got the all clear, he sank right back into your warm, wet heat, slowly regaining the fast pace he was fucking you at before he last pulled out.

He clicked the wand on and lowered it onto your clit, the dual-pleasure you received as he crashed his cock repeatedly into your g-spot while vibing you to the high heavens caused you to yelp. You were practically smelling colours, your senses overloaded in the best way possible.

Nothing but pure frustration was fuelling Kelly as he drilled into you; he wanted to fuck the stubbornness right out of you for scaring him the way you did on shift, and your refusal to see that your actions were reckless heightened his anger even more.

“Fuck, fuck!!!” Your face scrunched together as you tried to fight off the early stages of your orgasm. Kelly could feel you pulsing around him, knowing you had to be close.

“I want to cum, daddy, please, can I come? Fuck!!!” Keeping still inside you, he took the wand off of your clit to turn up the level of vibration, and then returned it back on your swollen bulb.

Pummelling into you with strokes so deep he must’ve been scraping your cervix, he commanded “cum for me, slut.” As soon as the words escaped his mouth you completely unravelled, the orgasm you had put off for what felt like an eternity suffocated your entire body in pure bliss.

You were shocked he had let you come first… you thought this was supposed to be your punishment for disobeying his orders, and you didn’t think being the first one to orgasm was on his list of ways to teach you a lesson.

But you had no idea what Kelly had planned until he was flipping you over onto your hands and knees, only to immediately thrust right back into you.

Your entire body jolted as he did so, given you were still recovering from your orgasm; you were so extremely sensitive, goosebumps appearing on every inch of your skin.

“I’m going to make sure you never disobey my orders again” he stated matter o’factly, absolutely ravaging your pussy. Holding onto your hips for support, the pads of each one of his fingers dug so deeply into your skin you knew he was causing bruises to form.

“Fuckkkk” you let out, your voice faltering in the same fashion as his thrusts. You couldn’t help but squeeze your eyes shut and keep your head down, attempting to ride out the overstimulation as he pounded out his emotions into you.

Without disconnecting your bodies from one another, he reached over on the bed to grab the belt you had removed from him earlier. He looped it underneath you, pulling up tightly as he snaked it around your hips. The cold leather made you shiver once again, a sensation that took your mind away from the second orgasm coiling in your tummy.

The belt allowed him to drill into you with an added force, and with his free hand he grabbed a fistful of your hair, bringing you closer to him.

Lowering his mouth down to your ear, he uttered “don’t you dare disobey my orders at work ever again. Do you understand me?!” The way his hot breath fluttered into your ear canal made you feel completely and utterly his, and you’re pretty sure that’s the effect he was going for.

“Yes, yes sir, I understand” you quickly responded, continuing to let him take you relentlessly. He let go of your hair and reached around you, grasping onto one of your tits. A pinch of your nipple sent what felt like a wave of electricity shooting through your entire body.

“God, you’re so fucking hot. You take my cock so well, huh?” He gave in and showered you with praise - though it was minimal - after you were being so good for him.

“Yes daddy, I take your cock so well. No one can fuck me like you can” you gushed in response. Your’s and Kelly’s sex life was always off the charts, but you believe this was the most mind-blowing sex you’ve ever had together.

You could tell he was close by the way he was losing his momentum, but he mustered up some strength to take himself across the finish line, hoping you would be right there with him for your second orgasm.

He released the belt from beneath you, tossing it to his side in order for him to reach around for your clit.

“‘M gonna cum. Fuck!” Kelly moaned out. “Cum with me darling. C’mon, you can do it” he encouraged, pushing your body to the brink.

“Fuck” he groaned out. As soon as you felt his hot liquid start to coat your walls, the coil forming your orgasm ruptured like the snapping of an elastic. “Oh my god” you gasped, feeling liquid rush down your legs.

Kelly looked down at where the two of you connected, and all he saw was a clear liquid begin to seep through the sheets.

“Did you just…” you were zoned out to the max, so clouded with intense sensation you could barely even hear him.

“What?” you whispered, turning around to look at him. When you saw he was staring beneath the both of you, you looked where he was and noticed the puddle you were hovering above.

“Oh my god. I think I just squirted” you gasped, nearly giggling. You had never done so before, and you were almost proud of yourself.

“That’s so fucking hot” Kelly whispered, slowly unsheathing his cock from your pussy. You flipped yourself over onto your back, letting out a breath from the exertion you had just been through before collapsing.

“I’ve never done that before. I honestly didn’t think I could” you admitted as he laid down next to you, propping his head up with his elbow. “Are you serious?” Looking at you like you had five heads, he scanned your face for any hint that you might be lying.

“You just fucked me into the abyss, Kel, yes I’m serious. That was so fucking hot” you breathed out, still attempting to catch your breath.

As silence filled the room for a second, the both of you entering recovery mode, you decided that now would be as good a time as any to apologize.

“I’m sorry, Kel. I didn’t mean to go against a direct order, and I sure as hell didn’t mean to scare you… I know that it’s not just myself I put at risk when I act on impulse, it’s the entire house, and if something happened to one of them because of me, I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself” I admitted.

Kelly nodded as you explained yourself. “I really don’t want our relationship to get in the way of our jobs. Just know that if anyone else had pulled the shit you did I would be just as angry with ‘em.”

You nodded in understanding. You knew he was just trying to do his job, and it most definitely made his leadership abilities look questionable when you went against him.

“Understood lieutenant” you said with a wink and a smile, earning a chuckle from him in response.

“Was I too rough with you? You know you can always communicate with me if you need to, no matter how deep in the moment we are” he scanned your face as he asked his question with sincere concern.

“No, no, Kel. It was great. I would’ve spoken up if I couldn’t handle it. You always take such good care of me.” Staring up into his eyes with admiration, you were wondering to yourself how you go so lucky to end up with a man like him.

He caressed your cheek with the pad of his thumb before planting a kiss on your lips.

“I’m gonna go start a bath for you, m’kay? You relax” he stood up, leaning over to kiss you on the forehead before walking to your en-suite.

“Hey, Kel?” He turned around. “Yeah?” He asked curiously.

“If you fuck like that every time you’re angry, expect me to rile you up way more often from here on out” you giggled.

“Fuck off” he smirked, grabbing a pillow from the end of the bed and tossing it at you playfully. As he turned around continuing his walk to the bathroom he muttered “I don’t have to be angry to fuck you like that. Just say the word princess.”

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EEEEEEEP I hope that was okay!!!!! This is my first time writing smut so PLEASE take it easy on me. This idea was brewing for a while and I feel as though I executed it poorly so please give me feedback- I’m more than willing to made edits! Let me know what y’all think and enjoy your St. Patty’s weekend!!!!!!

Also, if you’re waiting for me to write your request, your patience is beyond appreciated. I’ve been struggling tremendously with my mental health, and although that is not an excuse, I just wanted to provide a reason for the delay. Thank you!!!!🤍

[deny-the-issue]

Today is the last day of 2022 and while I know things won't magically change because that 2 turns into a 3 in 11 hours, I'm glad the year is coming to an end.

This has been a hard year. I've lost some important figures in my life this year, 2 (was almost 3) family members and 2 beloved pets. My depression and anxiety have been at an all time high, especially in the later half of the year. I've dealt with a lot of self-doubt and stress and I'm hoping things will go a lot smoother in 2023.

On a more positive note, I've also made some new friends this year and I am very glad to have them in my life. Many of them I was a big fan of before I met them and I am glad to be able to now call them my friends. I'm also glad to have met some new ones that I had never interacted with before!

I would never have had this opportunity if not for @deny-the-issue. Jasper, I don't know where I'd be without you welcoming me into your life and bringing me into the ratman loving group of lovely people.

I wish you all a smooth transition into 2023 and hope for good tidings for all of you! 🎉💜

[hero-deserves-to-be-happy]

Let Kel Be Sad: An Analysis on Kel’s struggles to express his negative emotions

Like Hero, Kel is also a “fixer”—he would bend over backwards to solve his friends' problems and stop the world if it would make them happy again, and both him and his brother are such big hearted and generous people who would much rather be the emotional support for others rather than talk about their own problems and make a situation about themselves and their feelings. For Hero, this often involves burying his own feelings and faking happiness, but I don’t think it necessarily means this for Kel, even if he struggles to express his negative emotions.

To me, Kel’s happiness and positivity is genuine, but he dismisses, discounts, and often runs from his sadness when he does experience it.

Let's discuss under the cut.

[Mod Sprinkles made the joke that in another universe I (mod Acacia) would also run a blog called "Let Kel Be Sad" so here are some Kel thoughts. Thanks for indulging my ramblings! 🧡]

Disclaimer: These are just my personal opinions, perceptions, and headcanons about Kel (and Hero). There are a lot of ways his character can be interpreted, and one of the great things about fandom is getting to see different points of view and differing interpretations of characters we all know and love. I know I speak for both Sprinkles and myself when I say we have a lot of respect for that, and for that reason, I want to be upfront that, while I do genuinely believe Kel struggles expressing negative emotions (thus the "Let Kel Be Sad" title), I don't personally view Kel as someone whose happiness is "fake" in the same way as Hero's. I can see the appeal of this interpretation and can understand why people interpret his character in this way, but it personally does not vibe with my personal interpretations, perceptions, and headcanons of Kel and his character, so if you perceive/headcanon Kel in that way, this post probably won't be your cup of tea. Please keep that in mind.

Warnings: OMORI Spoilers and discussion of game-relevant heavier topics such death, trauma, and grief.

Kel wears his heart on his sleeve, but this doesn't mean that he is shallow. He is a big-hearted, deeply empathetic, and incredibly loyal friend, and it cannot be stated enough that one of Kel’s biggest strengths is his ability to use his natural positivity and resilience to lift up those around him. He’s really the hero of the game because none of the healing would have been possible if he hadn’t continued to believe in his friends even after all of this time, hadn’t encouraged them, and hadn’t built them up just by being Kel.

And while I do think Kel does struggle to express vulnerabilities and negative emotions, I don't personally think of Kel's unwavering optimism as a mask. In my mind, Kel is not an emotional repressor or burier in the same way as Hero. In fact, because he wears his heart on his sleeve, he would probably really struggle to fake an emotion he wasn’t feeling (even if it was something positive like happiness). If Kel doesn’t want to express an emotion, I imagine he runs from it and avoids it, since it’s not natural or easy for him to “replace” or “bury” it with a fake one. Whereas Hero is much more reserved and private about his feelings, no matter what they are, so it’s much easier for him to convincingly mask pain and suffering under layers and layers of fake happiness. I just don’t think Kel would be able to hold back those emotions for very long. His negative feelings would eventually just kind of explode out of him without thinking and/or they’d become so apparent from his expressions and/or actions (since he does wear his heart on his sleeve) and everyone (including the player of the game) would know that he had so much negativity under the surface.

This isn't to say that Kel is perfectly fine. He isn't. He has suffered a terrible loss just like everyone else, but I think the game makes it clear that Kel has the most acceptance surrounding Mari's death and that he has made peace with what happened more so than the other main characters. Please keep in mind that this is only relative to the other main cast. Kel may seem "well-adjusted" in comparison to his brother and his friends who are, quite frankly, barely keeping it together, but he would not necessarily be considered well-adjusted in comparison to the non-traumatized townies. I genuinely believe that Kel is still in the process of healing, but relative to the other main cast members, he is farther along in that journey than they are.

And in that way, the game doesn't really give us a moment where Kel is overwhelmed by grief in the same way as the rest of the characters. Yes, there is the scene (one of my personal favorites) where Kel shares about his fight with Hero, and it is incredibly vulnerable and gives a lot of subtly and nuance to his character, but I don't think it's necessarily evidence that the player can't accept Kel as he presents himself to us at face value in the way that we can't accept Hero as he presents himself to us at face value. As I recently discussed in this post, the scene where Sunny finds Hero crying alone at Mari’s piano on the night of "Two Days Left" tells the player that Hero's attempts to appear well-adjusted and "fine" are, at least to a certain extent, all for show. There isn’t a Kel equivalent of this scene which, I personally think, is meant to tell the player of the game that Kel is the most well-adjusted member of his friend group (key words here being "of his friend group") and the one who has the most acceptance surrounding Mari’s death. Additionally, Mod Sprinkles actually made the point that Sunny is extremely perceptive and sensitive to his friends’ feelings and emotions. If Kel was still harboring a lot of negativity surrounding Mari’s death, Sunny likely would have picked up on that and been more hesitant to go outside with him in the first place.

This isn’t to say that Kel doesn’t ever have any negative feelings and that he doesn’t struggle to express those sometimes, but I think this struggle to express “the bad stuff” doesn’t stem from a pressure he feels to be happy all the time. That said, I do wonder sometimes if he is a little scared of feeling sad. He wants to be happy and wants everyone around him to be happy, and I think there is this certain helplessness that he feels when he can’t cheer other people up. We see a little glimpse of that in his account of his & Hero’s fight after Mari’s death. I think watching someone he loved so much go through such a deep and debilitating depression at such a young age probably permanently affected him, and he might have some worries about getting “stuck” like his brother, wallowing in that sadness and grief if he allows himself to feel it.

However, this is an unwarranted fear because Kel and Hero are very different. Even though Kel might feel sad, and his feelings are absolutely valid, I don’t think he’s prone to that level of despair and depression that we see in Hero. Understanding that his experiences and emotional responses are different than his brother’s is a big part of growing up so it might take him a while to realize this, and in the meantime, I could see it possibly manifesting itself as a sort of avoidance of sadness.

Everyone grieves differently. This is a difficult concept for even adults to understand, so I can't imagine how hard it would be for a 12-year-old like Kel. Because Kel didn't grieve Mari in the same way as Hero or his friends and didn’t spiral into the same level of despair and depression as the others, I think he struggles with invalidating his own feelings to himself sometimes--writing them off as shallow and dismissing them to himself as "just not deep enough." Again, I think this goes back to the one (1) fight that Kel and Hero had. We don’t know exactly what they said to each other in that fight, but it’s my personal headcanon that Hero lashed out at Kel for “not understanding” for he felt. From then on, I think Kel really does struggle with this fear that he just doesn’t understand emotions and because of that, any attempts to help his hurting loved ones will only make everything worse.

I’d really like to see him reach a place in which he can accept that even if his feelings and his grief are different and perhaps not as lingeringly overwhelming as the others', that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have them and that doesn’t mean he didn’t care about Mari or his friends. In my mind, Kel’s hesitation and worry at expressing his negative feelings and his happy-go-lucky personality can both exist at the same time. I don't think they are mutually exclusive, and I tend to think of Kel as someone who naturally looks on the bright side of things and is genuinely optimistic and uplifting. To deny this feels like a disservice to (my personal perception of) Kel, but I think it is also a disservice to pretend he never feels sadness or any negative feelings at all. There has to be a balance.

Let Kel feel sad when he needs to but recognize that he doesn’t actually need to feel sad all that often.