#✨imagination ✨

[whoahtherebats]

Timkon clone baby au

So you guys know that TikTok sound that goes

“How do I look Mei mei?”

“So beautiful mama”

And then the song goes sad. WELL imagine that Tim did his thing and made a successful clone who looks a LOT more like Kon than Tim, and all Tim can see whenever he looks at the kid is Kon. Like the angst potential is immaculate. All this is obviously before Kon comes back, or depending on your au he doesn’t at all. But I need someone to do this here

[itneverendshere]

BLESS HALLOWEEN - r.c (+18)

pairing: frat!rafe/ghostface!rafe x reader (uni au) warnings: no plot; smut

inspired by this audio (+18)

between midterms, a terrible class project partner, and your roommate constant need to fuck her boyfriend at any given hour of the day, you’re half asleep most days.

the only thing you should be doing is sleeping, anywhere, for hours, but instead, you let yourself get dragged to a halloween party. 

sure, you’re running on three hours of sleep and five cups of coffee, but heaven forbid you to miss a party because your roommate just had to be there. never mind that she’s been wearing her "not-so-pg sexy witch" costume since last tuesday, casting spells for her crush to notice her (like he doesn’t see half her skin every night anyway).

you look hotter than you'd like to admit. black mini dress? check. sky-high boots? check. a little lace mask that hides just enough to keep the mystery going? obviously.

you're not trying too hard, but you’re giving just enough to turn heads, with a vibe that says, “i might ruin your life, but you'll thank me for it."

you’re rocking some version of a "slutty masquerade," not that anyone could guess what that means, but it gets you a free drink within five minutes. and the best part? nobody knows it’s you.

the only downside is that you’re in his territory.

it could be anywhere, but it’s happening at his frat.

your project partner, personal headache and resident menace, rafe cameron holds court here like he’s king of the idiots.

he’s hot, you’ll give him that, guy’s all charm until it’s time to work; then he’s as useless as that cheap foundation your roommate keeps borrowing.

and now you’re here, half hoping to avoid his face entirely—his smirk that screams "’m getting credit off your hard work" and that irking attitude that makes him think he’s doing you a favor.

as if seeing him once a week in class isn’t enough of a problem. you pull your mask down a bit lower, not that he’d recognize you through the lace, but just in case.

against all odds, you’re having a good time. the drinks are good—something sugary—and you find yourself laughing, loosening up.

mid-laugh, you walk straight into someone, practically face-plant into a solid chest. you stagger back, the guy's hand catching your elbow to hold you, and you look up, only to be met with a ghostface mask.

“ohh, sorry,” he says with an amused chuckle like he's getting a kick out of startling you. "sorry, sorry—i  didn’t mean to scare you," he adds, not sounding remotely apologetic.

you raise a brow, your lips curving just slightly. “hmm, you sure? cause it kinda looks like you enjoy it."

he puts a hand up in mock innocence. “nah, i swear, completely unintentional,” 

you blink up at him, squinting against the red lighting to catch a better look at his mask. it’s honestly a little creepy up close, that ghostface grin somehow twisting a bit more under the lights and crowd. but you’re in the mood to get laid tonight.

"nice costume,” you don’t bother to hide the way your eyes stuck to every corner of his body, “scary.”

he doesn’t catch it though, leaning down, head tilting, “what?” he asks, chuckling a bit as he stands closer. “yeah, sorry—the music’s way too loud.”

rolling your eyes with a little attitude, you repeat yourself, a bit louder. “i said, your costume’s scary.”

he nods, shaking his head like he’s relieved, and rubs the back of his neck, as if this mask isn’t hiding the flush you think you see creeping up his neck. “oh, thanks. yeah, uh, you look…” his voice trails off a little, and he clears his throat, swallowing. “you look pretty, uh, scary too.”

you raise a brow, "you think so?"

he nods again, “yeah, ’m terrified of hot women, so…”

the music cuts him off this time around, his words getting lost in the heavy bass, it’s harder to know what he’s saying when you can’t read his lips. you frown, stepping closer into his space. “hmm?”

the guy practically jolts, “nothing, nothing—it’s, uh…” he stammers, then gestures at your face, his fingers brushing near your mask. “it’s a cool mask.”

you smile, amused. “thanks, ghostface. should i be, y’know, scared of you?”

 “i don’t know, that depends. should i be scared of you?”

"nop, you're cute. i like where this is going."

the guy’s mask tilts, there’s smidge of surprise in his voice. "really? so—so you’re into masks and, like, the whole psycho-killer thing?”

you shrug nonchalantly, letting your gaze drag over him slower. "only if they're hot and built like you."

there's a short pause, and you can practically feel the amused smile hidden under his mask. “oh, okay, yeah, yeah—so what is it? do you like being scared, or?”

there’s something about a guy like him—tall, broad-shouldered, who could probably break you in half without even trying. and honestly? you like that kind of shit. you’ve always wanted a guy who could cover you with his entire body, who’d tower over you in a way that was intimidating enough to make your heart pound. 

the kind that, if you begged nicely, might just be able to cut off your oxygen in bed with one hand. and here he is, looking like he could throw you around a little if you wanted him to. which you might. his hand still hovering near your waist isn’t exactly subtle either—it’s like he knows, somehow. either way, you keep your expression smooth, not giving him anything, it’s more fun that way.

you let out a giggle that’s only partly mocking. "maybe i just like danger, ghostface. or maybe i like watching people squirm."

“holy shit, that’s fucked up.”

you take a slow sip of your drink, watching his shirt cling to his chest as he takes a deep breath, every inch of that body sculpted to the fucking gods like it was made for nights like this. shit, that’s a nice body. 

you can’t help the sly smirk that pulls at your lips as you murmur, “what’s wrong with liking it rough?”

he snickers, almost breathlessly, and you know you’re getting to him. “there’s something a little wrong with you.”

yeah, there is. you almost blurt out the truth—that your panties are drenched and practically glued to your skin because of him, that he’s got you feeling hornier than you’ve felt in a long time. but you choose to let your fingers trail down his arm, slow and teasing. 

“you think so?” you faux-pout, giving him a look that’s all dark lashes and bad intentions.

he swallows, stumbling over his words. “y-yeah, i mean, there’s some things you need to… work on.”

you tilt your head, smiling in that way you know drives guys crazy, leaning in just enough to make him catch his breath. “would you like to help me?”

he stares at you, goosebumps rising along his arm where your fingers still rest, visibly caught off guard, “what does that mean?”

with a wicked grin, you reach up, wrapping your manicured hands around his neck, his breath all but halting as you pull him down until his face is level with yours. his breath hitches, and you take your time, letting your lips brush the shell of his ear, enough to make him shiver. 

“you find me upstairs,” you murmur, voice dripping with promise, “and ’m all yours. okay?”

instead of waiting for him to process it, you’re already sneaking off into the crowd, leaving him rooted. you don’t try looking back, already feeling his stare burning into you, dazed and desperate as he takes in what you just promised. you don’t second guess yourself once, you know he’s coming.

by the time he shakes himself out of his trance, you’re halfway up the stairs.

at the top, you stop, one quick peek over your shoulder to check if he’s still watching.

you push open a random door and slip into an empty room, locking eyes with yourself in the mirror. hair a little wild, eyes glinting with that mischievous glint you know all too well. you adjust your mask, the lace sitting just right over your cheekbones. you pull your dress higher, letting it ride up just a little higher, admiring the way the fabric clings to you, showing off every curve.

you turn the lights off, letting the room fall into shadows. he’ll have to work for it if he wants to find you. you can imagine the way he’ll hesitate, hand hovering over the doorknob, wondering what the hell he’s getting himself into. 

why make it easy for him?

rafe watches you leave, standing there like a fucking idiot, heart hammering in his chest as he replays what just happened. the words “find me upstairs, and i’m all yours” looping in his mind like a mantra. the confidence in your voice, the way you looked at him like you already knew he’d be following—fuck, it’s enough to make him hard just thinking about it.

he swallows, trying to be calm as he looks around, but there’s no hiding the way his breathing’s quickened, how his body is buzzing at the thought of finding you, alone, in a dark room, just waiting for him.

you’re playing with him, he tells himself, but he doesn’t care. he’s going to go after you anyway.

pushing through the crowd, he’s half-dazed, talking to himself under his breath, almost wheezing out a series of what the fucks. his grip wraps around the banister as he ascends the stairs, his fingers still itching from where you’d brushed against him. he feels completely out of his element. girls flirt with him all the time, he’s with girls all the time, sure, but this—this is different. 

he always been a sucker for a good challenge and you’d practically left him in the dust, tossing back that promise without even checking if he’d follow.

at the top, he pauses, looking down the hallway, every door holding the possibility that you might be behind it, waiting. 

rafe feels that thrill coil in his stomach, his heart pounding in anticipation. he’s like a kid on halloween night, trick-or-treating at the house he’s always been too afraid to knock on. but you dared him, so there’s no way he’s backing out now.

he starts with the first door, pushing it open only to find it empty, checking the shadows, in case you’re hiding, but nothing. he goes into the next door, finding a couple already in there, and quickly shuts it again, eyes slamming shut, ignoring their annoyed stares as he backs out.

third time’s the charm, yeah? he thinks, reaching for the next door and pulling it open. the door creaks as it swings shut behind him, his footsteps are slow, hesitant, and the scuff of his shoes against the floor makes him cringe. 

it takes him a second for his eyes to adjust to the dark, pupils dilating as he walks further inside.his breathing is loud and uneven, almost like he’d run all the way here. he stops in the middle of the room, his chest rising and falling hard, his breath painfully audible. 

his heart is doing an annoying thing, pounding, and he swears he can hear it.

did he misread you? the space is eerily quiet, he can’t help but wonder if he’s been set up, if you’re somewhere downstairs, laughing at how eagerly he followed your trail up here like a fucking dumbass.

rafe scans the room’s edges, searching, and he notices a quick movement in the corner—something. he swallows he leans forward a little, squinting to make out any familiar shape.

“you wanna play hide and seek?” he calls out, hoping he’s not making a fool out of himself, “is that it?” he’s taking gulps of air, feeling dizzy from being in the dark for so long, “you like this?”

a quiet giggle echoes from one of the corners, inviting, and he feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. you’re playing this game too well, lurking just beyond his reach, and the longer he waits, the more desperate he feels.

he swallows, his mind spiraling as he steps walks around, slow and cautious, hands slightly trembling. he’s caught off guard by just how badly he wants you; the way you kept looking at him like he was the prey downstairs, has him all kinds of worked up. 

his cock stirring against his jeans is proof enough. 

“you want me to scare you or somethin’?” he provokes you, praying it’s enough to lure you out, “you think it’s smart? letting a stranger chase you into a room, with no one else around. you’re all alone with me.”

“who says you’re that dangerous?”

the second the words leave your mouth, rafe’s resolve slips. 

it’s maddening, the way you’re hiding from him, how your voice seems to come to him from every dark corner of the room. he shouldn’t have drowned two shots before following you, but the liquid courage had been tempting. 

you’re keeping him on a tight leash, making him wonder if he’s got a shot or if you’re just messing with his head. he wants to see you again, your expression—wants to read you, even if the last time he tried, he ended up with his mind in knots.

“you don’t even know my name,” he muses, taking a couple steps closer to the closet, “does that make it more fun for you? that you don’t know anything about me?”

his movements are cautious, almost reverent as if you’re something sacred and forbidden all at once. he stops, opening the doors, leaning inside as he half-whispers, “not here, huh?” no answer, just silence, but he swears he can feel you watching him, your gaze prickling his skin, almost burning, “where are you? c’mon come out, i’ll go easy on you.”

he sighs, sounding like more of a frustrated exhale. no sign of you anywhere. he shakes his head, letting out a soft laugh, more amused than annoyed. 

“be a good girl and come out.”

rafe stalks around the room with the focus of someone hunting prey, his footsteps deliberate, his hands gliding along the walls and over furniture. he reaches the small bathroom door adjacent to the room, his fingers tightening around the handle. his lips pull into a smirk as he pauses—listening. 

the room’s quiet, but then, he hears it: the faint, uneven rhythm of your breathing, a quickened inhale, almost as if his words had finally affected you. he stops dead, dropping his hand from the door and turning around with a dark gleam in his eyes. 

“wait—wait,” his voice lowers with satisfaction, with the thrill of the chase. he lets out a breathy chuckle, his eyes roving the room as he zeroes in on where you’re hiding. “i can hear you, can hear you breathing.” 

he takes a slow, taunting step, his head tilting, as though he’s relishing the way you’re fighting to stay silent, to keep control. 

“what’s the matter? you sound a little…” he trails off in a murmur, enjoying the tables turning. “...shaken up. are you scared?”

your breath slips, just enough to betray you and his lips quirk up.

“i know exactly where you are.” with lazy confidence, he walks over to the far corner where the heavy velvet curtains seem to pool against the floor, drawn closed over the tall, narrow window. 

his fingers brush the fabric, his eyes narrowing as if he can feel the warmth of you just on the other side. then, in one smooth motion, he grabs the curtain and yanks it open. 

“caught you.”

moonlight spills in, illuminating you both. in a second, you’re pressed against the wall, lips parted, cheeks flushed, and his eyes rake over you, lingering on the way your costume accentuates every curve of your body. 

he steps in close, his silhouette blocking the light as he cages you in, one hand pressing against the wall beside your head, the other landing on your waist. his gaze drops to your lips, taking time to roam the way you’re biting your lip.

you tilt your chin up, “maybe i just like trouble.” 

rafe’s grip on your waist tightens in response, a hunger that he can’t hide, while he’s memorizing the way you’re looking up at him, ready to push him just as far as he can take it.

“you’re in trouble, alrigh’,” he shakes his head, while his hand inches down, slipping lower along your body until his thumb brushes against the curve of your hip, “don’t think you understand what you’re getting yourself into.”

your fingers slide up his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle beneath the thin fabric of his black shirt, the way his heart hammers from your touch alone.

“maybe that’s what i want,” you whisper, tipping your head up so your lips brush against his mask.

he shudders, and you let your fingers trail slowly down, tracing over the line of his collarbone. rafe swallows hard, his body thrumming with tension. his eyes dropping to your mouth once again, wishing he’d been smart enough to take the mask off, so he could kiss you. 

“you don’t know what you’re asking for,” he breathes, but the glint in his eyes says otherwise. he’s already melting under your touch, the desperation in the way he holds onto you confessing just how badly he needs it.

“you want me?” you ask, watching his pupils dilate as you lean in even closer, close enough that he can smell the fruity trace of your drink on your breath trough the mask, the lingering sweetness making him light-headed.

 jesus fucking christ where have you been all his life?

“yeah,” he mutters, voice strained, eyes half-lidded as he stares down at you, “i want you.” his hand trails up your side, down the line of your dress, stopping just at the hem. he hesitates, holding himself back for your sake, the look in his eyes begging for permission, daring you to say something, to let him go further.

you smirk, letting your fingers slip lower, grazing over the top of his waistband, “’m already so wet for you.”

a rough, almost growling sound escapes his throat as his fingers taunt around you, his control slipping at the admission. “yeah?” he grunts, letting his hand glide under the hem of your dress, his fingers inching higher, grazing along the sensitive skin of your thigh, “lets find out.”

the first brush of his fingers against your thong sends a shiver from your head to your toes, his smirk growing. he’s bold now, unapologetic as he moves them up, grazing the thin barrier of fabric between his hand and you.

your panties are ruined, drenched, and stuck to you most uncomfortably, he can tell from the way you keep pushing your hips forward, begging him to do something. 

he doesn’t think twice before using two fingers to pull the sticky fabric to the side.

“fuck,” he mutters to himself, “all this for me?”

you have to bite your lip to stop a moan from slipping out when he finally touches you properly. two of his long, thick fingers press against your entrance, sliding into you with no resistance. the feeling of your cunt clamping around him makes his cock twitch. 

he works you open, even the slightest touches have you arching your back from the wall. the need in his eyes turns ravenous with every desperate little gasp you let out. he moves slowly, deliberately, feeling the warmth of you clenching around his him, as he curls his fingers just right, 

“you’re so wet, ah, yeah—you’re gonna scream for me?”

his thumb finds your clit with ease, and he presses down, drawing gentle circles that make your knees buckle. he grins, drinking in every sound you’re trying to bite back. his thumb stays steady over your clit, circling with the perfect rhythm, applying just enough pressure to keep you breathless.

“c’me here,” his other hand moves with swift, easy dominance, capturing your wrists and pinning them above your head, holding you firmly against the wall,” you like this shit?” 

“you’re gonna fuck me with the mask on?” you grind yourself harder against him, practically delusional from the way he’s making you feel, “kinky.”

he's mesmerized by the way your breasts jolt underneath your dress with each shaky breath you take, your skin feels feverish, heat radiating off it like a furnace.

“just like you wanted,” he promises, his voice filled with satisfaction as his thumb presses down harder, coaxing a soft whimper from your lips. “go on, let me hear it—ride my hand.”

he tightens his hold on your wrists, keeping you perfectly in place, not prying his eyes away from how your brows frow with every grind. 

“fuckkkkk, do that again,” you whine when he hits a particular spot, your walls tightening around him in a way that makes him want to stop the foreplay and fuck you right away.

rafe leans forward to coo praise into your ear, “like this?” your skin is sticky with sweat—some saliva too—his. he’s never been this fucking hard in his life. he slows down on purpose, to torture you, doing anything in his power to make you beg, “ooh look at you— a fuckin mess.” he taunts.

“don’t be an asshole,” you groan, fingers itching to be set free, and grab his shoulders so you can slam down on him harder, “you gotta make me cum if you wanna fuck me.”

he runs deep circles into your clit making you press your legs together, knowing that he's getting exactly what he wants makes him chuckle into your skin. by this point as he mindlessly humps against your writhing body, he’s peeking down, taking a moment to admire the mess of slickness between your thighs.

“you want more?” you’re so caught up in the feeling that you don’t notice his hand leaving yours, wrapping it around your neck, pulling you closer to him, “answer me”

“another finger,” you spit out when he tightens his grip on your neck, the added touch having you on the brink.

rafe doesn’t even look at you, too entranced by your mess to make eye contact. he never got so lost during sex, but your pussy’s making him intoxicated to the point where his senses are dull, and the part of him that’s fully aware is his dick. 

he’s not even inside you yet, and still, he can cum just from seeing you ride his fingers. “another?”

he groans at the way one of your hands move to flex over his, watching in amusement as you try to get him to add one more finger. he mutters a low, gruff “good girl” as he slides a third finger in, pressing just deep enough to make your legs tremble, since you asked so nicely.

“think you can handle more?” rafe prods, “you’re so tight, don’t think you can take me.”

the way his fingers work, methodical and relentless, leaves you barely able to breathe, let alone answer.

“i could take t-two of you,” you tease, letting a breath out, and turning your head to face him. god you wondered if he looked good under that mask, but if he was this good in bed, who fucking cared.

“the only thing you’re taking is this fucking costume off,” he grumbles against your shiny lips, fanning like a wild animal catching the scent of its prey. he’s already tugging at the material, pulling the straps to the side before you can, nudging it aside, “look at you. gotta get my hands on you.”

rafe moves his attention to your breast and squeezes firmly, the tips of his fingers clasping down on your nipple, pressing and pulling as he chases after those sweet sounds that leave your lips.

“look at these tits, fuck” he rasps, eyes trailing over your chest and savoring every inch, his breath almost a snarl, “this’ what you wanted?”

you pressed your lips to his neck, ignoring the deep rumble in his chest as you sucked marks into his flesh, nipping him less than gently. grunting at a particularly rough bite you landed just under his adam’s apple, “i wanted your cock not your finger—"

his pitches your nipple harder making you squirm, “watch your fuckin’ mouth.”

the way you’re creaming his hand should be illegal, but this man is clearly sent from above. someone finally listened to you and gave you exactly what you needed to survive your dry spell. 

you reach down to cup him up through his jeans, “or what?”

he moans, head dropping to your shoulder, “fuck,” he mutters, his tone conveying that he’s just as distracted, watching how your puffy folds glisten with your arousal.

“hmmm, can’t hear you ghostface.”

rafe’s too entranced to put you in your place, you’ve got him eating out the palm of your hand. the sounds of your pussy sucking in his fingers are obscene, the simple act of your hand grazing cock has his knees buckling.

he can feel his heart beating miles a minute and he swears he could die right there, his hand coming down to grip the swell of your ass, kneading it firmly. you sigh contently with every slow drag of his hand, your head falling on his shoulder, nipping at his neck no doubt marking him up again.

“open your mouth.” you lift your head immediately, no smartass bullshit coming out of your lips, he chuckles breathlessly at your impatience, fingers moving from your ass to your parted hole, “suck my fingers, go on.”

it’s hard to make any coherent thought when his fingers are still inside you, dragging against your spongy walls deliciously, but your tongue automatically slips around his digits, doing your best to suck them down your throat. you’d never felt so willing to let a man bend you however he wants to, hushed curses escaping your occupied mouth, raking your nails down his arm. 

“good girl, yeahhhh, that’s it,” he grunts when you prod his skin harder, “you like diggin’ your nails into me, like it rough, huh? ‘course you do,” he stammers out when you clamp harder around him, your slick making everything slippery, “course you fucking do.”

with his fingers buried deep inside you and your lips wrapped around his other hand, rafe’s fully intoxicated, drunker than he can ever get. the sounds you make, he never wanted to taste something so bad, if it wasn’t for his stupid mask—

“take this thing off—" he grinds his hips into you, the rough fabric of his jeans pressing deliciously against your bare skin, teasing you, while his hand leaves your mouth to do nothing else but rip your panties apart.

you let out a huff, glancing down at what’s left of your underwear as he tosses it aside like nothing, already sliding his back up your thigh, “you’re paying for those.”

“whatever you want.”

you’re already occupied with his stupid belt, fingers quickly working to take the damn thing off, pawing at him to help. it’s only then he leaves your pussy unattended, settling his hold on your hips while you fumble with his jeans, unbuttoning them and snapping them open, his bulge straining against the fabric of his boxers. 

he grabs the underside of your thigh, picking your leg up and wrapping it around his waist, backing you two further into the wall, eyes gazing into yours, even though you can’t see him. why the fuck do your eyes look so familiar?

the tip of his dick kisses the skin of your pussy, the firm head bumping against your clit as he rubs himself against you, “happy?”

looking down, you watch his cock slide back and forth between your thighs, the friction making heat slowly rise in your core, warmth swarming in your chest. he’s so fucking big. you watch him, eyes half-lidded, your legs aching from the position, almost drooling from the sight alone. 

you don’t know how much longer you can let him tease you.

“so happy,” you nod, not tearing your attention from him.

“yeah?” he cocks his head to the side, brows furrowed, concentrating not to cum on the spot with the way you’re eating his cock alive just with your pretty little eyes, “you’re gonna let a stranger fuck you?”

rafe reaches down, teasingly rubbing the tip of his dick over your folds, tracing it over your clit a few times. you look up, lips curling into the most earth-shattering smirk.“i can always find someone el—"

you both groan when he slides into you with no warning, your warm walls enveloping him perfectly, sucking him in like a vice, a perfect tight fit. he pumps you so full, not waiting for any adjustment, your walls fluttering around his girth, thick tip slightly curved up from your position.

“fuck, fuck, fuckkk,” he drawls out, rolling his hips in tight circles, slowly fucking into you, dragging himself along your walls to learn what you like, “this pussy, oh—so good.”

your head falls back against the wall, sighing in pleasure. you want him to let go and beat your walls loose, especially when he looks so good doing it. you melt into him, body sagging, downright losing it with how easily he holds you up and still pounds relentlessly into you, your breathing picking up with his change of pace. 

he’s so strong.

“this good enough for ya?” he murmurs against your ear, picking on the way your body shudders, a scream for anyone outside that door to hear, “hmm? you like my voice, right here?”

“you’re gonna make me cum,” you feel yourself grip him harder, his thick cock stretching you open, dragging out moan after moan from your lips, “oh my god.”

it’s the sweetest torture, the way his pelvis smacks against your tummy with every thrust, barely even pulling out to roll back into you.

“such a fuckin’ slut, aren’t you?” he growls, “letting a stranger fuck you open—holy shit, holy shit,” he hisses, almost as if he’s in pain, when you teasingly whine your hips back into him, fluttering at the low sound he breaths right by your ear.  “shit, you’re squeezing—fuck.”

“you’re so b-big,” you wheeze at a rough thrust, hand coming down to press against his lower stomach.

“yeah? good enough for you, huh?” his hips increase in rhythm, rocking into you, his thrusts precise, beating against your g-spot with vigor, “takin’ it so good baby.”

by now you’re seeing stars in your vision from the white-hot pleasure shooting up your spine, smart mouth forgotten, “harder.”

“harder?” he’s fucking into you at such a pace you feel like he’s gonna split you in half, “don’t think you can take it.”

“please.”

it sounds too pretty coming out of your mouth. having a girl like you beg feeds his ego like nothing else. 

he buries himself so deep, his pelvis is pressed hard against the hilt of your mound, fingers coming down to pinch and roll your neglected clit between his fingers.

“fucking take it then.” rafe snaps his hips with every word, glaring into your teary eyes. 

you gasp, nodding your head frantically, too fucked out to even use your words properly when he bottoms out properly, leaving you entirely only to slam inside harder than before. you squeal, not expecting him to use his entire body strength to almost fold in half while you’re still standing.

“no one can h-hear you down here, go ahead,” your mouth runs dry as you feel his body helplessly pressing into yours, “lemme hear those pretty noises, c’mon, scream f’me.”

you’ve never moaned so loud in your life, hands coming up to tweak your nipples, him filling you to the brim, “w-where the fuck have you b-been?”

he chuckles, though it comes out strained, “right here,” he makes a point by ramming into your g-spot perfectly, “hold your leg up f’me.”

for once in your life, you do as you’re told while focusing on his clothed stomach, feeling it constrict with every deep breath he takes. 

“you look so pretty like this,” you hear him praise you, one of his hands sliding down the span of your back, coming down to wrap around your hair and forcing your head up, “could fuck you for hours.”

the tip of his dick is kissing right against your cérvix, “not stopping you.”

“yeah? that’s how good is it?” he laughs, “can’t believe stranger cock does it for you.”

you open your mouth to speak, probably to give him shit about how he wouldn’t stop teasing you, but your words run dry as you feel the familiar sensation of his fingers playing with your overstimulated clit. motherfucker.

your body tenses as he builds up the pressure, and a strangled symphony of your wails leaves your sore throat. it’s too much and not enough at the same time, the pressure of his cock as well as his fingers, he’s quite literally fucking you dumb. 

“nothin’ to say now, huh?”

the better it feels, the farther gone you’re in your mind, “s-shut the fuck up.”

if you were with someone else, it would bother you that your tits are quite literally out while he’s still dressed, besides the jeans pooling by his ankles, but that stupid black wife beater looks mouthwatering on him. 

somehow the outfit and the mask add to the allure, not knowing who’s behind it, but still letting him treat you like a rag doll. you’re bouncing down onto him, almost sniffling as your pussy’s still twitching and soaking, so close to your well-deserved orgasm.

“cum inside,” your head’s starting to sting from how bad you need to cum,“please.”

rafe swears he almost falls on his ass, “what?”

“inside,” you grit out, eyes closed in bliss, “want to feel you cum inside.”

he lets out a groan at the way you say it, “are you serious? oh fuck, what a little cock-slut.” he can’t help but let out a chuckle at your fucked-out state, lost in the chase of your own pleasure to care about how pitiful you look right now, “you’re gonna cum around me? go on,” he coos, kneading at the flesh of your thighs.

you nod, slipping out a high-pitched ‘mhm’, knowing this shit is about to hit you like a train. you arch yourself into him, whimpering lewdly and cutting small moon crescents into his shoulders with your long nails.

rafe feels like he’s lost all ability to fuck anyone else but you, growling at the filthy thoughts swimming through his mind, the urge to fill you up with his cum getting stronger as he enjoys watching you. 

a strained whimper escapes you as you lean forward to bury your head in his shoulder, groaning against the skin, “don’t stop.”

“n-never stopping, c’mon,” you swear you see stars while he’s slipping out curses and praises that you’re not even sure make sense. “holy shit, yeahh, fuck.”

he applies a little more pressure to your clit and that’s all it takes for you to be gone, your chest touching his, blinding flashes of paradise filling your vision as you leave reality, having it ripped away from you. 

your mouth is parted in the most beautiful oh shape he’s ever witnessed. tears are streaking down your eyes and he can’t help but be turned on by them.

“oh! fuck, fucking—” you squeeze your eyes shut, having no idea how you pulled the words out between continuous sobs that escape from you.

rafe feels like a fucking creep, he can’t take his eyes off you for the life of him, hips snapping animalistically into your pussy while he grunts, groans, and cries as he talks you through it, “that’sss itt, so good, so fuckin’ perfect.”

he tilts your chin up, forcing you to look at him, thumb brushing over your bottom lip. 

he’s chasing his orgasm while he watches yours; he all but whines when he releases inside of you, not slowing down in the slightest as he makes sure you take every drop. his hand comes down on your stomach forcing you back down with his python grip, feeling his bulge right there makes his eyes roll as his hand tightens on your waist. you’re still clenching and spasming as you milk him dry, “fuckin’ take it.”

his hips don’t let up, grinding into your core despite him already finishing inside of you. for another ten minutes.

five minutes later, you’re both a little hazy from the endorphin rush, still processing. once he pulls away, rafe feels a lazy grin stretching across his face, feeling more satisfied than ever. unlike the past hour, the room isn’t filled with your moans, but complete silence as you both try to breathe like normal people again, collecting yourselves, adjusting clothes, and then there’s an unspoken agreement that maybe, it’s time to see who’s behind the masks.

you fumble with the edges of the fabric, hesitating for a moment before finally pulling them off, unveiling each other’s faces.

you freeze, staring at him in disbelief.

“you gotta be fucking kiddin’ me,” you nearly burn a hole through his head, eyes narrowing with pure annoyance as you process this disaster, voice dripping with irritation, “what the fuck? rafe?”

he’s completely still, staring at you with his mouth wide open, eyes wide like he’s just seen a ghost—everything you’re hurling at him is going in and out his ears. the realization that he just spent the last hour fucking you is making him dumber. the girl he’d been thinking about, dreaming about, wanting more than he’d ever admit, even to himself.

the anger in your eyes, the annoyed way you’re crossing your arms and glaring at him—it’s so perfectly you. he’s watched you in class a hundred times, always stealing glances when you weren’t looking or cursing his ass off, catching little glimpses of your attitude that only made him want you more. 

but he’d never thought he’d get a moment like this. 

bless halloween.

“are you even listening to me?” you snap, catching his starstruck expression, waving a hand in front of his face. “hello? earth to cameron? stop looking at me like a puppy, this was a mistake.”

more than a mistake. you can’t believe you just fucked the reason why you didn’t want to come to the party in the very first place. 

and the worst part is that you’d do it again.

“i…i just…wow,” he breathes, “it’s really you.” he lets out an incredulous laugh, rubbing a hand over his jaw “can’t believe it.”

you groan, rolling your eyes and shaking your head in exasperation. “are you serious right now?

“can i eat you out?”

you blink, realizing you’ve been staring, “what?”

he takes a step closer, filling the small space between you. you swear the sound of his next words drag a whimper from your throat, “can i eat you out?”

you nearly choke to death as his hand ghost near your waist, the barest brush of contact, sending sparks dancing across your skin, “right now?”

rafe leans down to your size, eager to get on his knees and taste you.

“why not?”

well, fucking damnit.

dont go fucking strangers with ghostface masks at random parties

[raycatzdraws]

HATSUNE MIKU!!!

Hiiiii! :D I drew some fanart for @twilight-linkess' magical girl designs. They're adorable! (look! x x)

I love Twi's cropped jacket and the fringe and the moon phase design! I had to put him on the Master Cycle haha. I took inspiration from Linkess' fairy Hyrule drawings and gave some clover flowers to Four. His stockings are so cute!

[chloesimaginationthings]

This is basically Michael in FNAF Sister location,,

[monzamash]

★ last chance; long live the inbox graveyard! —i pick a long forgotten request in my inbox and write a short blurb or musings

hot tub time machine lando norris x you —no warnings, just fluff "could we get a number 14 (pool/hot tub sex) with lando pleaseeee? so excited that you’re writing again!!" —requested by anon on october 8th, 2024

“happy birthday, sweetheart...”

“i really needed this," he sighed, "knowing i would be home with you for this was the only thing getting me through the last few of weeks.”

lando could feel every single ache and pain wash away as he slid into the hot tub, stomach full of the gorgeous italian spread you’d ordered for dinner. his favourite. he swore you were an angel sent to earth, everything you did for him was heavenly, he could never find the words to tell you how much he loved you.

“you look so happy lan,” you smiled, dropping the kimono you’d worn during dinner as lando’s eyes cast across your body, luring you into the tub.

“i’m very happy - especially when i get to enjoy all of this… c’mere pretty girl.”

a soft giggle slipped from your lips as you grasped his hand, "let me get a bottle of red wine for us to share and i'll join you — do you wanna open the one daniel gave you?"

"ooo, are we entering that portion of the night?" lando asked suggestively as you stood up, shooting him quizzical look.

"what do you mean?" you asked earning a loud laugh from the tub, water splashing a little as lando pulled himself up to the edge, smiling over at you with a look you knew all too well.

"as soon as you start on the red wine, you get so frisky," he stated as if it was a well-known fact, one that you certainly weren't aware of.

"i do not!" you staunchly defended, earning another loud scoff.

"oh, wow," lando laughed, "yes, you do baby and i'm not complaining so crack her open..." he teased as you carefully stepped into the tub, with lando's help of course, eyes still narrowed in annoyance.

"okay so maybe wine makes me a little more amorous than usual but i think i'm just like that when i drink, no?" you pouted, earning yourself a pity kiss from the birthday boy.

"red wine makes you horny and that's okay," he teased again with a cheeky smirk on his face as you handed him the stemmed glass, "ta."

"we'll see then, won't we," you tutted, pouring two glasses of wine while lando chuckled to himself.

"i already know what's gonna happen but sure," he baited with a wink as he slowly dunked his head under the water and emerged with a shake of his wild curls, sending water flying across the room and all over you.

"you are so sure of yourself tonight."

lando's eyes skimmed across your body briefly while you claw-clipped your hair up, not wanting the hassle of having to dry it before going to bed. secretly you knew where the night was headed, red wine or not— it was his birthday after all, but you weren't about to admit that to the man hypnotised by your every move, jaw slack from the glorious view of your cleavage.

lando was a simple man.

"well, i am the birthday boy after all so i reserve the right to be cocky once a year, yeah?" he taunted from the other side of the tub.

"yeah, only once a year..." you rolled your eyes humorously.

the distance between the two of you seemed too far for lando, so he sculled the rest of his drink and carefully placed the glass on the floor before giving you a mischievous smile.

"steady on, party boy," you chuckled as he leaned forward and snaked an arm around your waist, pulling you into his warm hold.

"i just want to focus all of my attention on you," he whispered, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear that had fallen out of your clip, his emerald irises darted over your face, finally resting on yours.

"i missed you a lot, you know."

you took that as an invitation to straddle his lap and rest your elbows over his shoulders, wine glass dangling from your fingers. lando smoothed his hands down your back and and pressed fiery kisses across your chest. his lips travelled back up your neck, along your jaw before finding your soft lips in a slow, passionate kiss. you moved in sync with him, bringing one of your hands up to trawl through his wet, tangled curls. the chlorine always got the best of them.

lando hummed quietly into the kiss before pulling back slightly, "this is the best birthday i've ever had... and i couldn't be more in love with you," he confessed as you took the chance to admire the sweet boy you'd chosen to share your life with.

you grasped his face gently between your hands and pressed another soft kiss to his lips, making sure he knew just how much you loved him, no matter what life threw your way.

"i love you too, darling... happy birthday."

a/n — the first of the end of (f1) season sale!! this hot tub request actually wasn't forgotten, just half-baked so thank you anon for sparking up the inspiration to finally finish it! hope you enjoyed it 😌

[kendallsroyco]

2006 vs 2025 ❤️

Charlie really making one of the best cases for Twink Death -> DILF Birth ✨

[etherepaar]

There is no separation. Assumption = reality.

There is no separation between your assumptions, your beliefs, your manifestations, and your reality. Not metaphorically not conceptually. I mean literally. They are the same thing. You assume something is true, not to make it true, not to force it to happen, but because it already is. You’re not trying to influence reality. You are BEING reality.

There’s no step one: assume step two: wait step three: receive.

That’s separation.

That’s delay.

That’s a lie we were taught to believe.

Think of a mirror

When you lift your hand, does the reflection wait? Does it pause for a moment and think about whether or not it should reflect you?

NO

It just reflects instantly. Because the mirror isn’t separate from you it is you in reflected form.

Your reality is the exact same way. The moment you assume something reality mirrors it.

You are the origin. You are the cause. The assumption is the effect. But they happen in ONE act.

And this is the thing most people are still waiting still checking the mirror. They assume something and then they wait for the proof. But babe, that’s not an assumption. That’s doubt in disguise.

You don't smile hoping the mirror smiles back you smile because you KNOW it will reflect that smile you trust it without needing to double check you don’t call yourself delusional for smiling before the mirror moves. you just do. Because you know the mirror moves with you.

That’s what it means to live in the state of the wish fulfilled. You become the version of yourself who already has it not to get it but because you do have it. Not in some faraway future. Not if the universe allows.

Right now. Because you decided and reality obeys that decision without hesitation.

Assumption is manifestation. They’re not separate. They never were. You are not faking it you are not pretending you are not lying to yourself.

You are BEING and the world has no choice but to mirror that being. Stop waiting stop watching the mirror.

Smile now. Assume now.

BE now.

Because the truth is: you already have it. You already are it and the mirror has already reflected it.

This clicked for me after reading girlblogga’s post on X. It was the reminder I didn’t know I needed.

- etherepaar

[erineas]

AYo-

YOU MEAN THESE?

Skull design by @desktopdinosaur

Forest god au by @llamagoddessofficial

[bunnysnuff]

Joe Goldberg and Love Quinn being obsessed with you headcannons:

Pairing: Joe Goldberg x Reader x Love Quinn.

Trigger warnings: Stalking I think. Joe and Love themselves are a TW. Please tell me if I’ve forgotten 🤍

It starts with Joe. Of course it does. He sees you at the café—you were reading a book he deems worthy of attention, something rare these days. You’re kind to the barista, your smile lingers, and Joe? Joe needs to know you.

• He watches. He learns. Your route to work, your favorite order, how you twirl your pen when you’re lost in thought. He tells himself it’s to protect you. That you deserve someone who sees you. And he can do that. He will do that.

• But then comes Love. She meets you at a farmers’ market. You complimented her homemade jam. Love felt it instantly—that gravitational pull. You laugh like sunlight, and her heart clutches. You’re so soft, so full of life. The kind of person she could bake for, garden with, protect.

• When Joe finds out Love is watching you too, he panics. But then—something clicks. Maybe this time, they don’t have to choose. Maybe this time, they can share.

• Suddenly, you’re being love-bombed from both sides. Joe always just happens to show up at the bookstore you like. He lends you novels you’ve been meaning to read. Love drops off pastries at your door, says she made too many (she didn’t).

• They’re careful at first. Subtle. Friendly. Then one day they invite you over for dinner. You’re flattered. They’re charming. The food is incredible. Joe pours wine while Love brushes your hair back from your face. You think it’s sweet. You don’t see the glance they share behind your back—hungry, possessive.

• You become part of their routine. You don’t know how it happened. Love insists you sleep over when you’re too tired to drive home. Joe leaves you notes tucked into your books. You’re their sunshine. Their muse. Their everything.

• But they get jealous—of each other. Joe finds Love staring at you like you’re a masterpiece. Love watches Joe watch you with that infatuated gleam in his eyes. They love you, but they’re still them—intense, obsessive, a little broken.

• Sometimes they fight about you. Loud, raw arguments behind closed doors. But they always come back together with the same conclusion: They’ll do whatever it takes to keep you.

• And you? You’re just starting to wonder if maybe this all feels…a little too perfect. Why your phone sometimes glitches. Why that one guy who was hitting on you suddenly moved away. Why you can’t seem to say no to them anymore.

[doodle-pops]

When You Disappeared After A Fight And They Thought You Left Them

Headcanon: Celebrimbor, Finarfin, Finrod, Glorfindel, Elrond, Gil-Galad

A/N: I realised it’s been far too long since I last wrote for Celebrimbor and Gil-Galad. Don’t worry, no crazy angst, just humour, and hurt/comfort.

Synopsis: After a heated argument, you decided to take a walk to clear your head, only to end up getting caught in a storm, resulting in your absence for a week. They, on the other hand, thought the worse until your return.

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Celebrimbor

You stepped through the doorway soaked to the bone, your cloak heavy with rain, and boots caked with half-dried mud from the trail. Your fingers were numb by the time you pushed open the forge door, the hinges groaning in a way that made you wince. There was a moment you expected anger, or worse, indifference. But what you got instead was the echo of something heavy crashing to the floor, followed by the very loud, very uneven clatter of tools spilling everywhere.

There he was, Celebrimbor shot around the corner like he’d been fired from a war bow. His hair was a mess, half-tied back with soot streaking his cheek, and the look on his face—pure disbelief.

“You—” He stopped dead in his tracks, clenching and unclenching his jaw. Then unhinged as though a dozen words had just jammed up behind his teeth, he took a shaky step forward. “You’re alive?”

You blinked at him. “What?”

He strode to you without hesitation and grabbing your face in both calloused hands, eyes darting over your soaked features like he couldn’t believe you were real. “I thought you left. You didn’t send word. You didn’t—by the Valar, I thought you were dead or that you—” He sucked in a ragged breath and pulled back, fists clenched. “I thought you left me. Because of what I said.”

Brushing wet strands of hair out of your face, you rolled your eyes. “Because you acted like a stubborn ass and I didn’t feel like getting struck by lightning trying to hike back here during a bloody storm?”

He stared at you like you’d grown a second head. “Storm?”

You gestured at yourself, dripping onto the floor. “Yes. Storm. The week-long monsoon from hell? Trees falling, floods, livestock floating by? What, did you think I was tanning in Ereigon?”

He didn’t say anything while his brows furrowed deeper and hand slowly rose to rub over his face like he was trying to scrub away his shame. “I thought—” He looked away. “I deserved it. I said too much. I was cruel. I...I never should have said those things.”

You dropped your cloak with a thud. “No, you shouldn’t have. You were an ass. You said I never understood your work. That I was only here because I liked the forge’s heat and the free jewellery.”

“I know,” he cut in, wincing. “I know. It was vile. I was angry and—”

“No. You were scared,” you said, stepping into his space, glaring up at him. “Because I told you you’re not a god, and your projects don’t get to eat you alive. And instead of listening, you threw that in my face.”

He sagged visibly. “I haven’t slept in a week. I couldn’t. The bed didn’t feel right without you in it. The forge didn’t sound the same. I couldn’t tell if I was hallucinating you or remembering you wrong. And I’d come home every night hoping you’d be here, and every night the door stayed shut.”

You raised an eyebrow. “So...you missed me?”

His expression was dry enough to bake bread. “I was halfway to building a replica of you from spare chainmail links and cursing your name the entire time. So, yes. I missed you.”

You crossed your arms with a slow smirk forming. “And?”

“And I’m sorry,” he said quickly, eyes holding yours. “I’ll never say anything like that again. Even when I’m angry, especially when I’m angry. Because losing you—thinking I’d lost you—it wasn’t just unbearable. It made me realise I care about us more than I care about anything I’ve ever made.”

You held his gaze letting him squirm a moment longer out of a quest for satisfaction, then stepped forward and shoved your cold, wet face against his chest. “Good. Because if I’d made it home and you were off brooding in a cave somewhere, I’d have gone back into that storm and hoped for a lightning bolt.”

Releasing let out a short, breathy laugh, his arms wound tightly around your waist. “Remind me to temper my mouth next time.”

“I’ll temper your ass next time.”

“Already sculpting the armour for that, love.”

Finarfin

You opened the heavy front door, expecting silence. Maybe even the stern face of a king trying to pretend he hadn’t cried into a dozen embroidered handkerchiefs. But what you weren’t expecting was to be immediately tackled by golden robes and a blur of hair smelling like lilac oil and nervous sweat.

He squeezed you so tight your spine protested audibly. “Yavanna’s tits, you’re alive!” he gasped against your shoulder, and you had a split second to marvel at him swearing before your feet left the ground.

“Put me down!” you protested while poking his shoulder. “I’ve just walked six leagues through wet forest—I probably smell like moss!”

Suddenly releasing you, his hands moved to cup your face, eyes frantic. “You disappeared. No word. Not even a note. I scoured the coastline. Sent birds. Rode out with the guards. I interrogated a goose herder because he thought he saw someone matching your description two days ago.”

“A goose herder?” you asked, deadpan.

“Bribed him with a wheel of cheese and four loaves of honeyed bread.”

You blinked. “You bribed a man to tell you where I went using baked goods?”

“It’s what I had on hand!” he snapped, then let out a breath and took a half step back. “Where were you?”

You peeled off your dripping cloak and stepped out your soggy boots. “Nearby village. Storm rolled in hard. Bridge collapsed. I was stuck for days before someone even managed to repair the road out.”

He stared, clearly dumbfounded. “You didn’t leave?”

You levelled him a look. “Of course not. Just because you said I had the diplomacy of a drunken orc doesn’t mean I’d up and vanish. I was angry, not deranged.”

His face went sheet white. “I—oh.” He dropped into the nearest chair like his knees had turned to pudding. “You were just stuck. Not gone.”

“I would never just leave you like that,” your muttered in an obvious tone while crossing the room to plop yourself into his lap, and flick his nose. “Although, if you ever talk to me like that again during an argument, I will exile myself. To Angband.”

“I was furious, and stupid, and possibly drunk on elderberry wine. But the moment you were gone, I felt like a hollow man playing king to a room full of ghosts,” he grunted, voice muffled as he buried his face into your neck and arms around your waist, squeezing you tightly.

“You didn’t change the bedsheets.”

He looked up. “Of course not.”

You softened, fingers slipping through his hair. “Next time, trust me to come back. Storms pass. Tempers cool. But you are my home.”

His mouth curled into a small, sheepish smile. “Even when I say utterly regrettable things about your tact?”

“Especially then. Because someone’s got to keep your golden head from floating too far off your shoulders.”

“I shall make it up to you.” He pressed a kiss to your jaw. “Name your price.”

“Hot bath and food. And I’m choosing the bedtime story tonight.”

He grinned. “Even if it’s the one where I accidentally insulted a goose herder and got smacked with a bread roll?”

“Especially that one.”

“And if I cried into my council robes?”

“Oh, I assume you did.”

“You’re never going to let me live this down, are you?”

“Not even if Eru himself demanded it.”

Finrod

The halls were obscenely quiet when you entered. The kind of silence that only existed when someone refused to acknowledge anything around them because they were still stewing. The sheer thought prompted another eye roll—your nth number for the week.

Your cloak dripped steadily onto the mosaic floor of the palace, and you kicked off your boots just inside the entrance. You hadn’t the opportunity to make it three steps before Finrod’s voice echoed coldly from the corridor behind you.

“So you do remember where you live.”

Slowly, you turned to be treated by the sight of him standing with arms crossed, jaw clenched tight, and his golden hair slightly dishevelled like he’d been dragging his hands through it for hours. Nice to see how crazy you were capable of driving him.

You raised a brow, returning the same air of authority. “Nice to see you too.”

Striding forward with an expression so thunderous, he stopped a foot away. “You were gone. A week. No word. No message from the servants. Not even a whisper from the wind.”

“I was trapped in one of the nearby humam settlements. The roads flooded, so one could leave, and the villagers were too busy tying down roofs from becoming birds in the raging wind.”

“I assumed you’d left because of our argument,” he pointed out tightly. “That you’d walked out because I pushed you too far.”

“You told me I didn’t understand what it meant to rule. That I was selfish for questioning your council.”

“I said that in anger!” His voice cracked through the room. “And I regretted it the moment you walked away! I thought, give them time. A day. Maybe two. But then three passed. Then four. The storm hit, and every rider I sent returned empty-handed—”

“You sent riders?” you questioned in softness.

“Dozens.” He scrubbed his face with both hands. “And when they found nothing, I thought maybe…maybe you left because I made you feel like you didn’t belong.”

He looked at you with all the sharpness fading into raw hurt. “Do you have any idea what it’s like walking these halls thinking you’ve destroyed the best thing in your life with a few words? I held court with a mask for six days and couldn’t remember what you looked like when you smiled.”

Your mouth twitched. “You’re being dramatic.”

“Entirely.” His tone didn’t even attempt denial. “I was halfway through composing a lament by the fifth night.”

“My goodness.”

“Yes. There were rhymes.”

You made a noise of mock horror. “Please tell me you didn’t sing.”

“I’m not saying I did.” He looked sideways. “But if I did, it was very moving.”

You couldn’t resist snorting. “You idiot.”

His shoulders sagged. “Your idiot,” he corrected, then softened his tone with an ounce of hesitation, “if you’ll still have me.”

Closing the gap, you reached up to cup his face, and his hands flew to your waist like he was afraid you’d vanish if he let go. “I would’ve sent word if I could,” you murmured. “But the weather was horrible. And…I was angry. But I didn’t leave you.”

Slowly he exhaled, pressing his forehead against yours. “Good. Because I love you. And if you had left, I’d have to write a second lament.”

“You absolute menace.”

“Still your menace.”

Glorfindel

Glorfindel appeared in the hallway like the same storm you just faced—wild hair unbraided, tunic only half-buttoned, his expression caught between fury, disbelief, and the unmistakable shine of near-tears. The moment your foot crossed the threshold, you barely had time to shut the door before the sound of his boots thundered across the floor, approaching.

“You,” he growled, pointing an accusatory finger like he wasn’t entirely convinced you weren’t some hallucination conjured by a grief-addled mind. “You vanished for a week!”

You dropped your soaked cloak with a soggy thud and blinked at him, soaked from head to toe. “There was a storm. The roads were flooded—”

“I know there was a storm!” he snapped. “I sent out three search parties! I threatened to punch Círdan when he suggested you might’ve just needed ‘space’!”

“You threatened Círdan?” you cried in utter disbelief.

He threw up his arms. “He was being philosophical at me when I hadn’t slept since the third day! I thought you were dead, or kidnapped! Or—” his voice cracked, and the rage drained out of him, leaving him standing there looking wrecked and years older.

“…Or gone,” he whispered quietly. “And I couldn’t even remember what the last thing I said to you was. Only that you were angry. And then you were gone.”

Your brows furrowed as you stepped forward, boots squelching on the wood. “You told me I was being ‘dramatic,’ Fin.”

“I meant adorably dramatic,” he muttered instantly, stepping toward you with equal urgency. “You were huffing. Your nose scrunches when you’re angry, it’s precious—and you know I’m terrible with words when I’m angry—”

You narrowed your eyes. “You called me a spoiled elfling and stormed out.”

“…Okay,” he admitted, wincing. “Not my finest moment. But I stormed out intending to return and apologise! I bought apple pastries on the way back! And when I returned you were just…gone. No note. No sign. And then the storm hit, and I kept thinking, what if the last thing you ever heard from me was—was that?”

He looked almost offended when you didn’t immediately throw yourself into his arms to console him. Instead, you wrung out your cloak and calmly replied, “You’re the one who stormed off like you were starring in a stage play.”

There a strangled noise that was somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. “I was dramatic. Fine. But—you were the one who walked into the rain and disappeared like some moody soliloquy. You didn’t think maybe sending a bird? A single raven?”

“I tried,” you replied sarcastically. “The damn birds couldn’t fly in the storm. One nearly got knocked out of the sky by a tree branch the size of your ego.”

He opened his mouth. Shut it. Then gave a grudging nod before the silence stretched. His hands clenched and unclenched like he didn’t know what to do with them. Then, with a grumble, he reached forward and tugged you into his arms.

You were still soggy, but he didn’t care.

“I’m not letting you out of my sight again,” he murmured, burying his face in your shoulder. “You’re lucky I didn’t start writing poems in mourning and have every elf in Imladris listen to me.”

You snorted. “You’d write poems?”

“Dramatic and weeping.”

“You really are ridiculous.”

“You love me.”

“…Unfortunately.”

He kissed your neck, desperate and rough. “Don’t vanish on me again. Or I will punch Círdan.”

Elrond

The moment Elrond saw you walking through the front gates of Imladris, muddy, rain-streaked, and glaring at the sky like it had insulted your lineage, he dropped the teacup he’d been holding. Not caring that it shattered beyond repair—as did his composure.

“Where in the Void have you been?”

You flinched, clearly you had been imagining this exact moment for seven storm-soaked days and still weren’t ready for it. “Well, hello to you, too,” you croaked, pushing back your hood. “You wouldn’t believe the week I’ve had—”

“You disappeared,” he cut in, striding toward you with wide, sharp eyes. “Without a note. Without a message. Even without your cloak, for Eru’s sake! And after that—”

“—ridiculous argument,” you finished. “Yes. I remember. Mostly the part where you accused me of never taking anything seriously and that being with you was a responsibility, not a game.”

He stopped in his tracks. “I didn’t mean—”

“You did,” you snapped. “And I was furious. So I took a walk for some air. Then for half an hour before the heavens cracked open, a tree fell on the road, and a lovely travelling merchant shoved me into a barn before I was flattened by lightning.”

“You could have sent a bird—”

“Oh, yes! Of course. Send a bird in the middle of a raging storm!” you exclaimed, flailing your hands in the air. “Why didn’t I think about that?”

He rubbed his face with both hands and made a sound that could only be described as part groan, part sob. “I thought you were gone. Not ‘temporarily cross and got caught in a freak storm’ gone—actually gone. I haven’t slept. I’ve started yelling at the staff. I called Glorfindel ‘ammë’ yesterday.”

You paused and raised an eyebrow. “Did he cry?”

“He curtsied.”

Well, that was the cue that broke you. You doubled over with laughter while Elrond stood there, baffled and tired and vaguely damp from standing outside in his night robe all week like some cursed spirit.

“Look,” you said, voice shaking as you sobered up, “I didn’t plan to vanish. But you hurt me. You said something harsh, I said something worse, and then I got stranded with a farmer who thought my name was ‘Moss.’”

“Moss?”

“I was too tired to correct him.”

Cautiously, he stepped closer with his eyes dropping to your feet. “I am sorry. I was harsh, and worried, and frightened.”

“I know,” you muttered. “I figured that out somewhere between the second lightning strike and the moment a goat tried to eat my sleeve.”

“Come inside,” he said softly while reaching out to clasp your fingers and guide you indoor. “You’re soaked, blue and clearly on the brink of falling ill. Your boots are—are those not your boots?”

“They belonged to a man named Oloron who lost his in the river. We swapped. Don’t ask.”

Stepping closer, he lifted his hand to cradle your face, his warm thumb rubbing your cold skin. “I missed you. The house missed you. The trees were quiet.”

“That’s creepy.”

“It’s true.”

Instinctively leaned into him without warning, and he caught you without hesitation, arms dropping to warm around you like he thought you might vanish again if he didn’t anchor you down.

“Say it again,” you murmured into his chest.

“I missed you.”

“Good. Don’t forget it.”

“I won’t.”

Gil-galad

The halls of Lindon were colder than usual. Not from the biting winds or damp stone, but from your absence, resulting in the great High King from not slept in a week—he barely ate, save for the few times Elrond had coaxed him into chewing through half a honeyed fig like some pitiful, lovesick warlord. All because you two had argued. Loudly.

It first started off a something petty—maybe it was about the council and his constant dodging of your concerns, or maybe the usual ‘you don’t understand the pressure I carry’ rubbish—before escalating. Whatever it was, he’d been dismissive, you’d been furious, and by the time the shouting had stopped, so had your presence in the house.

You hadn’t left a message with the maids. No word. Not even a note. Nothing but a door left ajar and silence heavier than the storm clouds that rolled in that night.

For two days, he searched, storm or not. Rode halfway to Forlond and back with soaked boots and a bruised ego. It didn’t matter that the rain pelted like knives or that his guards warned him of landslides. You were gone. You could have been dead for all he knew, and the last words he’d thrown at you had been, “If you can’t handle this life, perhaps you shouldn’t be part of it.”

Beautiful. Regal. Worthy of carving onto his tombstone, right next to Beloved Idiot.

So when the front door creaked open on the eighth morning, dripping with mud and exhaustion, and you stumbled in with your cloak barely clinging to your shoulders, Gil-galad froze mid-pace on the staircase.

“...You have three seconds to explain before I start wailing like a widow.”

You blinked at him, water streaming off your nose. “I got stuck in a bloody storm,” you grumbled. “The bridge collapsed, the path to Lindon was flooded, and the only inn in the village had one bed, and a family of six already in it. So, I’ve been drying socks by the hearth of an old woman named Sarah who thought I was some war orphan.”

“You didn’t think to send someone?”

“In the raging storm?”

“Birds fly in storms!”

“Yes, foolish Birds who have a death wish.”

He stomped down the stairs. “Do you have any idea what I thought happened? I buried you in my head five times! I thought you were dead, or worse—gone. Just…left.”

“Well that’s romantic.” You threw your arms in the air, which would’ve been more dramatic had you not slapped a soaked glove into your own face. “Why would I just leave?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he barked, sarcasm thick. “Maybe because your husband said something truly wretched and didn’t even apologise before you vanished into a torrential abyss?”

Your glare could’ve melted mithril at this point. “I was going to come home after a day, but then mudslides happened and cows started floating down the river like logs, and some bloody elf thought that was the perfect time to lecture me about duty and whether I’m ‘suited’ for this life!”

He winced. “...Yes. That would be me.”

“No shit.”

You both stared at each other, soaking wet and shaking for very different reasons. But then he stepped forward and flung his arms around you, his warrior-made body weighted upon yours and solid against your weary bones.

“You’re freezing,” he murmured into your hair. “And probably hungry. I left stew on the fire. It’s awful. I overdid the garlic. But it’s warm.”

You stifled a laugh at the absurdity of him assuming you would leave him, unsure whether to cry or punch him. “You thought I left.”

“I did. And if you ever actually leave without a message again, I’ll throw myself into the sea.”

You snorted while attempting to gently pry him off so his attire wouldn’t be drenched and smelling, however, he resisted your efforts. “You’d float. You’re too full of hot air.”

“Not the sweet reunion I was hoping for,” he muttered, burying his face into your neck. “But I’ll take it. Just don’t go running off without me.”

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[gyuwoncheol]

Sir, Please.

Pair: Wonwoo x f.reader

Genre: Fluff, Smut. 18+ only (MDNI).

Summary: Wonwoo doesn’t mind keeping you at the edge if it means watching you fall apart.

Warnings: Dom!Wonwoo, Sir! kink, edging, cockwarming, unprotected sex (stay safe, children), squirting, clitoral stimulation, lots of making out, creampie, pussy slapping (like once), overstimulation, dacryphilia, breast play, wrist pinning, dirty talk, use of pet names (Sir, good girl, darling, love, baby, sweetie), glorious aftercare (Wonu is the best), fluff. Please let me know if i missed something. Not proofread, might come back to fix up errors.

WC: 3k

Author’s note: First smut piece for Wonwoo my love. This was only supposed to be post-sex cuddles fluff but thought it was the right time to finally write smut for my favorite boy. As is the plot of this piece, good things come to those who wait 😏 Enjoy!

Tagging fellow Wonu lovers @multi-kpop-fanfics @playmetheclassics for the chaos.

“What’re you doing?” Your boyfriend quizzed, your bare body still on top of his, a cheek resting against his bare chest.

“Doodling,” you mumbled casually as your finger continued to draw lazy patterns on his side.

“Darling, it tickles.”

“I don’t see you flinching.”

“You’re on top of me. If I flinch, you might fall.” He stated matter-of-factly.

You craned your neck to look up at him, flashing a wide grin momentarily, “then suffer.”

You shook along with Wonwoo as he laughed at your reply, a strong arm secured tightly around your torso, while his free hand cradled the back of your head.

A large smile was permanently etched on Wonwoo’s face as you both laid in comfortable silence. When he had collapsed onto you just minutes ago after reaching his climax, he had asked so nicely if he could stay inside a little longer and who were you to complain? You’ve craved for this kind of intimacy with him for awhile now after being both so busy with work.

“You’re lucky i love you,” Wonwoo declared as he kissed the top of your head.

You hummed in response, trailing your fingers again on his side, nails lightly scratching on his skin, “did you just write ‘i love you too’ on my ribs?” He laughs, and you nod an affirmative.

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes and snuggling more into your boyfriend’s chest. Now would be a good time for time to stand still. The setting sun casted warm hues of light inside your bedroom and while the airconditioning was cold, Wonwoo was radiating just the right amount of heat to keep you from shivering.

“I’ve missed you,” you blurted out.

“I know, sweetheart. I’ve missed you too. I’ve missed this,” another kiss was placed on top of your head, “i’m sorry i’ve been so busy.”

“I’m sorry too,” you sighed, resting your chin on his pecs to face him. “I wish i had more time to visit you in practice, or even just see you for lunch.”

“That’s okay, darling. We’re both just in our busy season. It will be over soon, yeah?” This time, Wonwoo’s palm was rubbing circular motions on the small of your back. “I was thinking we should go on a vacation when this all boils over.”

Your eyes grew wide, excited at your boyfriend’s suggestion, “really?”

“Yeah, maybe the countryside? Or out of the country? Where do you want?”

A blush crept up your cheeks at Wonwoo’s gesture of letting you choose, but honestly, you could’ve just stayed at your home and it would be okay. The last time you had a vacation, he made you choose the place too but this time, you didn’t really have a shortlist of destinations. You craned your neck to kiss his lips shortly, “surprise me?” You smiled shyly, “maybe somewhere peaceful and with fresh air? Anywhere as long as it’s with you is all I want, darling.”

“Okay, i’ll plan it out.” He confirmed before rolling you both over so his body hovered above yours

“Where are you going?” You pouted when he made a move to slip out of you.

“I need to clean you up, sweetie.”

You hooked a leg around his waist in retaliation, not at all ready to feel empty just yet. You attempted the most doe eyes you could muster, looking up at your boyfriend through your lashes and clenching your pussy as you did so, “Don’t you wanna fuck me one more time?”

Wonwoo scoffed at your question, the corner of his lips pulling into a devious smile at your sweet tone, “can’t get enough, darling?” His voice was lower by a few octaves, enough to send a shiver through your spine and a gush of wetness in your cunt.

“N-no, sir.”

Wonwoo smirked at the nickname before doing an experimental thrust. When your eyes rolled to the back of your head, he simply chuckled before dragging his cock out slowly and then swiftly burying himself to the hilt, rendering you even more speechless than you were. He could feel the rhythmic spasming of your walls, causing him to grow harder and harder.

You cupped his face to bring it closer to yours, kissing him and sucking at his lower lip. Wonwoo smiles in the kiss, amused at your neediness especially when he feels you lift your hips and roll them on his.

“Eager are we?”

“Wonuuu,” you whined pathetically, clawing at his back.

“Wonu?” he questioned with a glare, pinning you to the mattress agressively, “that’s not what you called me minutes ago, darlin’”

“Well, I don’t know where he went. Maybe if you give me what I want then I’ll start calling you it again,” you smirked, dragging your nails a little more harshly on his skin making him hiss.

Wonwoo rolls his eyes, only to dive into your right breast and suck harshly at the bud, eliciting a loud moan from you. He snakes his hand in between you both, thumb finding your clit and rubbing it in circles, immediately feeling you clench around his dick again.He mutters something about you being responsive but it flies over your head as he picks up his pace. The slide is much easier given your mixed cum and your new arousal so it takes him record time to hit your sweet spot. Every ridge and vein on his cock drags against your walls in a way that’s more delicious than awhile ago.

“S-sir, pl-pleaasee,” you shake, the pit of your stomach tightening as you arch your back.

“Does my darling want to cum?” The nickname sounds sickly sweet as it rolls off his tongue and it only helps you get closer to the edge.

You nod your head repetitively, chants of ‘yes’s’ and ‘oh’s’ spilling from your lips, but then Wonwoo withdraws his hand from your sensitive bud and stills inside of you, a vice grip around your body as he licks the shell of your ear, “you don’t get to cum until I say so.” The words were loud, clear and firm, in a tone you knew all too well.

“But Won—“ you cry out loud, tears forming in your eyes as you feel your climax painfully float away.

“Nuh uh,” two harsh thrusts are delivered straight to your gspot as your boyfriend hooks one of your legs on his shoulder, “Call me wrong again and I will not let you cum at all.”

“Fuuuuck,” you mewl from the way his cock rams into you with the new angle, following it up with whines at the thought of getting no release, “S-sorry, sir! ‘M sorry!”

“There it is. Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Wonwoo mocks, “now be my good girl and hold it out for me, yeah?”

You’re a incoherent mess as you try to obey him, but it isn’t so easy when his large cock is abusing your sore, sloppy cunt. Words of filth pair each one of his powerful thrusts.

“My dirty little whore”

“So fuckin’ needy for my cock.”

“Can’t get enough of this pussy.”

“Your pussy is mine.”

“All made for me.”

You were letting out moans of pleasure as Wonwoo pounded into you mercilessly, the knot in your stomach making itself felt again.

“Fu– ah! Fuck, s-sir! Please!” You asked, but it only fell on deaf ears. Both your wrists were tightly pinned with just one of your boyfriend’s large hand above your head and his blown out pupils were looking right at you.

“Make me cum, make me cum, make me cum, please!!!” you begged shamelessly, voice shaking and legs closing in as you teetered on the edge of your orgasm.

“Not. Yet.” Wonwoo withdrew fully from your hole and you shrieked at the loss, your hips lifting to chase after his dick only to have it slammed down by his free hand.

“Sir!!!” You scowled, eyebrows scrunching and eyes wide, anger and pain washing away yet another failed orgasm.

A proud, lopsided smirk appeared on your boyfriend’s face. He licked his bottom lip, enjoying the torture he beset on you despite his painfully hard cock.

“What?”

It wasn’t a question. He wasn’t asking, you knew that much.

“Nothing,” you cowered and blinked back your tears, erasing the anger in your face much to your dismay.

“Good girl.”

You swallowed thickly, squirming once more when Wonwoo tapped his heavy length on your pussy, coating himself with your slippery wetness— not that he needed any more of it— before purposely slapping your swollen clit with his angry red tip. The stimulation from that alone already had your toes curling and it took every fibre of your being to not just unravel right there.

You should’ve known calling him ‘sir’ would lead to this, but behind the tearful denials, you knew immense pleasure awaits.

“Siirrr, p-please! I n-need it.”

“Shhh. Patience, darling. We’ve got lots of time.” The demonic chuckle Wonwoo let out had you whimpering pitifully, your hands fighting to break free from his hold.

It seemed your boyfriend was hell bent on prolonging your agony when he simply continues to endlessly tap his shaft on your clit as he pumps himself.

Wonwoo was not usually loud in bed, save for his occasional grunts and broken groans when he falls into bliss. However, he’s decided now would be the perfect time to make matters all the more worse for you. He was being loud about it all, no holds barred. The squelching noises of his dick against your wet lips is now easily drowned out by the guttural moans Wonwoo has let slip past his mouth. You thought his dirty talk is music? Well, this was a symphony.

You had thought you wouldn’t get close this time around since he wasn’t inside you but the relentless knocks on your clit and the obnoxiously loud moans of your boyfriend have proved you wrong. Your hands balled into fists and you squeezed your eyes shut, mentally fighting off the ball of pleasure in your lower abdomen.

“Look at you, fighting so hard,” Wonwoo snickers, pressing down the tip of his cock to your clit in slow circular motions, “show me how good you are yeah?”

“Yes yes yes! ‘M good! Your good girl, promise!” You were so far gone, pliant to each one of your boyfriend’s requests.

“So wet, you’re soiling the bed,” he points out the obvious, “what a fuckin’ mess.” Wonwoo saw another shiver run through you, indicating you were seconds away from release. So for the third time that day, he denies you of the very thing you crave for, letting go of your wrists and then landing a sharp smack to your pussy before completely backing away to watch you spasm and curl up into a ball of needy tears and pathetic whines.

Your head was spinning and your senses were more than heightened. The slippery feeling of your arousal between your thighs were making it harder for you to squeeze them shut and stay still. Wonwoo simply loomed over you, giving you enough time to stabilize your breathing and let your failed orgasm ebb away. He knew that if he’d put so much just as one finger on your skin, you’d cum right away. Contrary to his actions, he wanted you to cum, but that didn’t mean he wanted to see you cry for it first.

“S-sirr,” you sobbed.

A gentle touch carefully landed on your calf and when you didn’t flinch away, Wonwoo let out a sigh of relief, “Yes, baby?”

“Please,” your voice barely above a whisper, “n-need you…”

Whatever other words you had planned were swallowed by Wonwoo in a searing kiss. It was sloppy and messy, his skillful tongue darting to yours, teeth biting at your lips. You both moaned in unison when he impaled you on his cock once more.

“So big,” you groaned, initially amused at the delicious stretch until you realised, he’s had to hold off his own orgasm too.

Wonwoo gives it his all, jackhammering into you like it would be the last time. The sound of moans and skin slapping skin reverberate around the room. And then, there it is again, a coil so tight on your stomach, you fear you’re going delirious to the point of no return.

“Wo— Sir!” You quickly correct yourself, losing the least bit of dignity you had, tears drenching your cheeks, “i’m b-begging, p-please…”

The gentle kiss on your nose set a stark contrast from how his cock abused your sopping cunt, but relief finally took over you at the words whispered in your ear, “so good for me. Let go, baby. I got you.”

A strangled cry ripped out of your throat, your orgasm gloriously hitting you like a tidal wave. Wonwoo continued to talk you through it while holding down your convulsing body and slamming his hips into you, the sight of your pussy creaming his cock eventually producing broken moans from him.

“B-babe, too– ah! Too m-much!” More tears fell on your face as Wonwoo did deep snaps, his pelvic bone grinding on your clit.

“C’mon baby, m’ close. S-so close!”

Incomprehensible noises tumbled out of you when your boyfriend buried himself deep, pushing onto your sweetest spot and stilling there. Between his guttural groans, the perfect ‘O’ shape of his mouth and the thick loads of hot white cum that flooded your velvety walls, another coil snapped within you, a new round of arousal seeping out of your spent hole, except this time, much wetter and hitting you like a ton of bricks.

“Fuuuck, darling,” Wonwoo trembled as the last of his nectar oozed out, “did I just make you squirt?”

“Fuck off,” you scowled, wishing you had more energy to wipe the smug look plastered on your boyfriend’s face.

“So I did?” Wonwoo pursed his lips and scrunched his nose, a look you very much love but absolutely hate right now.

You let your bottom lip jut out in a pout, your brows drawing to the center of your face, “how could I not when you edged me like that!”

“You’re cute,” was his only response, very slowly slipping his softening cock out of you. Your sweet boyfriend peppered kisses all over your face, replacing your frown with a smile. “Did I make you feel good, darling?” He asked genuinely, not wanting to ever subject you to something which you didn’t enjoy doing.

You gave him a shy nod, pulling him closer by his neck to close the gap between your mouths and share a loving kiss, much like how it was way earlier. It didn’t take long for you to part, your lungs still recharging to full capacity after having all the air knocked out of you.

Wonwoo gave you more time to recover, resting his head on the crook of your neck to leave soft kisses on your skin, especially on the blooming bruises he left in his wake.

“Darling, you can’t sleep yet,” he shook you gently when he noticed your prolonged stillness.

A small whine escaped your lips, “but Woo… i’m tired.”

“I know, i know,” he hushed softly, “but we need to get you cleaned up and also, change the sheets. I’ll make it quick.”

You had no time nor energy to protest. You were simply being carried bridal style into the bathroom, your boyfriend making sure you peed before he went on to wash up yours and his sweaty body with warm water. He was so so tender with his touch, especially in all parts between your legs. He’d keep an observant eye to every reaction your face made, careful not to cause any pain.

“Can… can you be mine?” you squeaked, and Wonwoo giggled at the drunken look of love on your face. Every time you think nothing can top sex with your boyfriend in your own little list of World’s Most Wonderful Things, you’re reminded that aftercare by him exists.

“Darling, i’m already yours,” Wonwoo chuckles.

You noded with a grin, brain really starting to drift off into slumber, “I like that.”

He fixes his glasses by the bridge of his nose after giving you a once-over, now dressed in cotton panties and one of his large navy blue shirts which hung mid-thigh on you.

Wonwoo lifts you up to sit on the bathroom counter before cupping your cheeks to meet your eyes, “baby, can you sit here and wait for me for about 10 to 15 minutes, please? I need to change our sheets.”

He had expected you to whine and retaliate, knowing you were always extra clingy after sex, but you simply nodded and smiled. You think you felt his lips on your forehead but you aren’t too sure.

The moment Wonwoo slips out of the bathroom, you’re fighting not to fall asleep, but 15 minutes is long, and maybe you can just lean your head a bit on the cold marble tile—

“Let’s get you to bed, love,” the tall man chuckles as he lifts you in his arms. You swore it hadn’t been fifteen minutes, not even ten! But then he walks past your bed and out of your shared bedroom. The light of the hallway enough to stir your brain awake.

“Where are we going?” You ask, nuzzling your face on the crook of his neck as he cradles you into another room.

Wonwoo laughs at your question, “We have to take the guest bedroom for the night, darling. You’ve soaked through our mattress.”

[dark-moonlust]

Reading monster smut and reaching the stage when the writer starts describing the size, texture, and otherworldly anatomy… ✨

[itneverendshere]

wake up in the mornin' and to your smell - r.c (+18)

pairing: kelce's!sister x hockey!rafe warnings: SMUT. request: Can we pls get more parts for brothers bsf!rafe where it’s the morning after ans they did it GOOD and she’s all shy n stuff bcz duh she might act all tough but w him it’s different and he’s enjoying it sm

It was the first time you woke up with him.

The first thing you noticed wasn’t the soreness between your thighs or the warmth of the sheets twisted around your torso.

Not even the ache between your hips, which was almost overshadowed by the memory of how it got there. Just the quiet movement of his chest beside you, the peaceful rhythm of Rafe Cameron sleeping soundly in your bed.

You should’ve slipped out, wrapped yourself in the hoodie you left draped over your desk chair, and padded to the bathroom before he stirred. Maybe taken a second to fix your hair—because, of course, you’d passed out without twisting your hair up, without so much as reaching for your bonnet. 

But instead, you stayed in place, blinking up at the ceiling, hoping it would offer some kind of answer as to what you’re supposed to do next.

Because, technically, this wasn’t new.

The sneaking around, it had been happening for weeks, months, maybe. You’d had sex everywhere except a bed. His car, your car, the locker room after practice, the laundry room at a party, once against a tree at some bonfire neither of them even remembers the reason for.

But never, never in a bed, never in your dorms, never somewhere where you had to face the aftermath. Usually, once you were done, you went back to class, or to a party, or Rafe went back to practice. 

No lingering.

The first time you “slept” with him, the bench had been hard against your back, his hands bruising against your skin, the faint sound of his teammates approaching outside the door making the whole thing feel forbidden.You’d been half-dressed, your skirt rucked up, and he’d dropped his towel on the floor.

But this—waking up next to him, in sheets that still smell like him, watching the curve of his mouth as he breathed deeply in his sleep—this was new. And you didn’t know what to do with it.

You shifted slightly, meaning to turn away, and get some distance between yourself and his overheating body, but the movement made him stir.

You winced as his arm tightened around your waist instinctively, tugging you back against his chest. “Mmm, don’t do that,” his lips brushed against your shoulder.

“Do what?” you whispered back.

His palm pressed against your hip, thumb stroking over your skin in a slow ticklish pattern. “Move away from me like you’re tryna escape.”

You huffed, rolling your eyes even as your heart pounded like you were twelve all over again. “I’m not trying to escape.”

“Good,” he murmured, lips pressing softly against your shoulder again before he nuzzled into the crook of your neck like it was his second nature.

Rafe was acting like you two woke up like this all the time as if this wasn’t something you were going to overthink the second you got out of bed.

That was the thing about him, he’d always been good at making you feel like you didn’t have to think so much. 

Always knew how to tease you out of your head, and used it against you every chance he got.

Like when his hand skimmed lower, fingers grazing beneath the curve of your waist.  “How are you so pretty in the morning?”

You blinked at him. Then blinked again.

“Shut the hell up.”

Rafe laughed, unbothered, he knew how much you hated that kind of shit. Which, of course, he did. This was Rafe, and he loved saying things he knew would make you flustered.

“I’m serious. Look at you.”

You groaned, squeezing your eyes shut. “My hair looks crazy.”

“So?” He didn’t agree or pretend to entertain the idea.

“So?” you scoffed, shifting to finally turn and face him properly. “I look like I got…”

“Fucked?” Rafe grinned wider. “Yeah, ‘cause I did that.”

Your jaw dropped. 

“You sore?” he asked teasing, his voice dipping in that lazy amusement that always made you want to smack him and kiss him at the same time.

Sore was an understatement; it was all his fault.

“I can’t stand you,” you muttered childishly, nudging your elbow back against his ribs, but he just laughed.

All you wanted was to groan at how much you loved the sound.

As if he wasn’t already too much—too pretty, too talented, he just had to be the best you’d ever had. He knew what he was doing and dared to be hung like that too. God had favorites, and clearly, you were one of them.

“That’s a yes,” he drawled, sounding too pleased with himself.

You let out an exasperated sigh, fighting against the warmth creeping up your back. “You’re so fuckin’ annoying.”

“And yet, here I am,” he pointed out, smug as ever, and when you don’t have a comeback fast enough for the first time in your life, he chuckled again.

“Unfortunately,” you sighed, burying your face in your pillow to hide the involuntary grin taking over your expression.

“Yeah?” His hand moved again, fingers slipping beneath the covers to pinch at your thigh, making you jolt slightly. “That why you were moanin’ my name last night?”

“I wasn’t.”

“Oh right, that was screamin’.”

You groaned, reaching back to swat at him blindly, but he just laughed again, catching your wrist before you could do any real damage.

Rafe always made it impossible. You huffed against the pillow, stubbornly avoiding his gaze even as he tugged at your wrist, pulling you back into him with that ridiculous grin you hated to love.

“Shut up,” you muttered, voice muffled against the fabric.

He pressed a third kiss to your shoulder, a little less teasing, and you hated how much you wanted to turn and kiss him back. 

“A little higher pitched, but you’re almost there.”

“Get out.”

His hand brushed up your thigh, his palm rough against your skin. “But I’m so comfortable here.”

“That makes one of us.”

Rafe just scoffed, his mouth trailing lazily up your neck until his nose nudged behind your ear. “Yeah? You debatin’ it right now?”

You hated the way he sounded, all amused like he already knew the answer. Mostly because he did. You sucked in a breath, willing your body to behave, but it was useless when his fingers kept moving, grazing over your hip in a way that made you want to melt.

You exhaled sharply, finally turning your head to glare at him. It didn’t have the effect you wanted. He was looking at you like that, all sleepy-eyed, hair sticking up at odd angles, as if he belonged in your bed. 

It wasn’t supposed to feel like this.

Your fingers twitched against the sheets, tempted to reach up, run through his hair. But that wasn’t part of the deal. There were rules to this. No overthinking. 

Rafe’s thumb skimmed up your ribs, pulling you out of your spiraling thoughts. His eyes flickered over your face. Then, his lips curled into that shit-eating grin that made you want to strangle him.

“Didn’t know you could bend like that.”

Nevermind, you were going to knock him out with a hockey stick.

 “Rafe.”

He just grinned wider, “How come you never told me you had that in you?"

You shoved at his chest. “Go back to sleep.”

“What? Just sayin'. Damn. You been hidin' that from me?” His fingers slid lazily up your arm.“If I had known you were that flexible, I woulda put you in a headlock weeks ago.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“You like it enough,” he shot back, smirking “You just mad ‘cause now I know you can do all that, and I’m gonna be expectin’ it every time.”

You smacked his arm, but that only made him chuckle, burying his face in your neck as his teeth scraped playfully over your skin.

“You’re so annoying,” you repeated the insult, trying to scoot away, but he pulled you back in, his arm locking around your waist.

“Yeah?” He kissed the corner of your jaw. “That why you were beggin’yesterday?”

You scoffed, horrified, but he was already laughing, ducking out of the way before you could slap him again, “If anyone was begging, it was you.”

His eyes lit up as he looked down at you. “Shit, you got me there. Matter of fact... might beg now too.”

“I have class in thirty,” you reminded him.

He pouted, brows furrowing like a kicked puppy. “I just need ten minutes.”

“No.”

His lips brushed against yours, voice dropping into that dangerous, coaxing drawl. “Five?”

“Rafe.”

He was already nudging your thighs apart with his, hard as rock, sliding in between—not putting in, just coating himself in your arousal and rocking a little back and forth, luring you in. Both of you moaned, loud and shameless, like sluts, and you would’ve been embarrassed if he didn’t sound just as needy as you felt.

Your brain turned to mush the second you felt him. 

“Rafe,” you warned again, but it was weak.

He groaned against your neck. “Two?”

He didn't wait for an answer—he never did. Just kept teasing, gliding his cock through your slick folds, the weight of him pressing and sliding just enough to make you squirm.

"C’mon, lemme make you feel good before class. Promise I’ll be quick."

Liar.

Rafe’s fingers dug into your hip, holding you in place while he moved, then, he hiked your leg up, throwing it over his hip like he had all the time in the world, spreading you wider so he could slide even messier, wetter, the thick head of him catching at your clit in a way that made your stomach drop to the bottom of the ocean.

You shuddered, nails digging into his bulky forearm. "You're such a fucking—"

"Yeah?" He cut you off with a lazy grin, pressing harder this time, drawing out the friction just to watch your face twist. "Finish that sentence."

You couldn't. 

“Not fair,” you murmured against his mouth, as he rolled his hips. His other hand was already trailing up, palm greedy as he squeezed a handful of your tit, thumb brushing over your nipple just to watch it pebble up. You arched into his touch, biting back a moan as he saw right through it.

He always did.

"That's what I thought," Rafe hummed, smug, dipping his head to bite at your jaw. His grip tightened, keeping you right where he wanted you, even if he knew you wouldn’t try to move away now. He nudged forward again, getting himself soaked. "So fuckin’ wet for me and I haven’t even put it in yet."

It was humiliating how easily he could wreck you, turn you into a desperate, panting mess with nothing but his cock sliding over you and that voice dripping in amusement.

He knew it, too. The smirk was still plastered on his face when he reached up, cradling your jaw, forcing you to meet his eyes.

"Look at you," he murmured, lips hovering over yours, close enough to steal your breath but refusing to kiss you. 

You swallowed hard, but before you could bite back, he crashed his mouth against yours, all tongue, swallowing your moan as he rutted against you, grinding dirty, making sure you felt every inch of him.

Then he pulled back, enough to pant against your lips, his forehead pressing against yours as he grinned. "Still got that class in thirty?"

You shifted, meaning to push him away, to sit up—anything that wasn’t this. But the way you arched, the way your hips tilted just right—

“Oh, shit—”

He slipped inside, easy, smooth, like your body was made for him, exactly where he was meant to be. You both froze, inhaling sharply at the sudden stretch, the obscene wetness letting him sink all the way in, with no resistance.

Rafe swore under his breath, hands gripping your hips, physically restraining himself, if he so much as twitched, it’d be over.

“The way you just—fuck.”

Your nails dug into his biceps, body pulsing around him, stomach twisting at the way he sounded, completely blindsided. He let out a shuddering breath, swallowing hard.

“You’re fuckin’ unreal.”

Your lips curled. “Might be.”

Rafe exhaled sharply, then laughed, hoarsely. “Dream girl.”

What the fuck was that supposed to mean?

He didn’t say things like that. He flirted a shit ton, he teased, he riled you up until you were too frustrated to do anything but fall into him, but he didn’t say things that stuck. You’d overthink about it later, the words already buried deep into your brain like a splinter. 

You whimpered into his mouth, fingers flying to his hair, twisting, nails scraping against his scalp, and he groaned.

You felt everything. 

Lazy, filthy, perfect.

His lips found your jaw, then your throat, hands slipping up to cup your tits, thumbs brushing over your nipples as he rocked into you again. He had you right where he wanted you, and he fucking knew it. Rafe moved his hips a little faster, testing, and you both gasped at the way you clenched down around him.

He groaned, rough against your throat. "You gotta stop doin' that."

You fluttered around him on purpose.

He cursed, pulling back just enough to thrust shallowly, teasing himself through your hole. Your nails raked down his back, and he fucking shuddered, breath hot against your jaw.

His hand trailed up your side, skimming over your ribs before wrapping around your throat—not squeezing, only reminding you that he had you, that you let him have you.

"You keep clenchin' up like that, I'm gonna think you don’t really wanna go to class." His thumb brushed your pulse, feeling how it skipped beneath his touch.

You swallowed hard, heat curling in your stomach. "I don’t."

"Fuckin' knew it."

His other hand slipped under your thigh, gripping hard as he tilted your hips up, changing the angle until you chocked on your own breath, making sure you felt the thick, heady sweep of him, filling you up in a way that made your toes curl, your head falling back against the pillow.

"Right there?" Rafe teased, breathless.

You nodded, barely able to do anything but take it. "Rafe—"

"Fuck," he whispered, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. "You feel so good. So warm."

He hummed, a soft, knowing sound, skimming his lips along your jawline, open-mouthed kisses, drawn-out, until his teeth scraped over your pulse.

“More," you pleaded, voice soft, almost shy. "Kiss me."

His lips parted, but instead, he exhaled sharply.

"You ask so sweet," his thumb brushed the corner of your mouth. "How’m I supposed to say no to that?"

He rocked into you again, lazy and deep, kissing you like he had nowhere else to be, every inch of him pressed against you, surrounding you, smothering you in the best way. His fingers slipped between yours, tangling your hands together over your head. 

You shivered. It was too much—the way he sounded, the way he touched you, the way he was looking at you. He your shoulder, biting down gently, sucking another mark into your skin. 

"You’re gonna be late," he murmured, amused.

You let out a breathless laugh, tilting your head back, giving him more room. "Don’t care."

"Yeah?" He nudged his nose against your cheek, "That why you’re fuckin' dripping all over my cock?"

Rafe fucking ruined you.

There was no other way to put it.

You weren’t thinking, weren’t even capable of forming a single coherent thought, just a mess beneath him—babbling, body pliant as he rocked into you. You were taking every inch, stretched around him perfectly, your cunt gripping him like you never wanted to let go. And at this point, you didn’t.

“Ohhh, fuck,” you gasped, nails scraping over his broad shoulders. “Fuck, fuck, fuck—"

Rafe watched you with blown, lazy eyes. “That all you got for me?”

He dragged himself out unhurriedly, just to push back in deeper, and your back arched, head spinning at the obscene wet sounds between your bodies, at the way you could feel every ridge, every thick vein.

“Rafe,” you whined, voice breaking. Your brain was gone, absolutely fucking fried, your mouth running on autopilot. “S’too much—feels so—”

 “Yeah?”

You nodded weakly, breath hitching as he tilted his hips, hitting that devastating spot inside you that made your thighs shake. Rafe swore under his breath, his grip bruising as he pushed your knee up to your chest, forcing himself even deeper. 

“That why you’re all quiet, huh?”

You let out a broken moan, fingers digging into his biceps. “Can’t think—fuck, can’t think when you fuck me like this.”

And fuck—fuck—you’d be embarrassed if every time he sank in, his pelvis wasn’t pressed flush against your clit, pushing against the swollen little bud right, sending shocks of pleasure straight through your body. He pushed his hips deeper, grinding against you just to watch your mouth drop open.

“That right?” he cooed, “More?”

“Yes,” you huffed, so brainless, completely under his spell. “Yes, yes, just—just wanna, please—”

“Jesus Christ,” Rafe choked out, his rhythm stuttering. “You tryin’ to make me come?”

You’d never begged before, never once—not with anyone else. Sex had always been good, sure. You liked it, and enjoyed it, but you’d never been desperate for it.

Until him.

You let out the filthiest whimper, hands fisting the sheets, breath stuttering as your hips jerked up, chasing that friction, that perfect, devastating pressure. He moaned at the way you writhed against him, at the way your cunt clenched around him, pulsing, sucking him in like you never wanted him to leave. 

His head dropped into your shoulder, gripping your hips tight to keep you still as he slammed into you again, making sure to press down, his pubic bone tickling against your clit in slow, filthy circles. You cried out, nails biting into his back, desperate, mindless, your hips lifting to meet every taunting thrust.

This wasn’t fucking, it was something else entirely.

“Say it again.”

Your brows furrowed. “Say what?”

He licked your lips, smirking against your skin. “Say please.”

Heat flushed through you, an embarrassing, all-consuming need curling in your stomach. You panted, licking your swollen lips, barely able to keep your eyes open as his hands never stopped moving. Sliding up your body, tracing the dip of your waist, rolling your nipple between his fingers just to hear you whimper. 

You swallowed hard, your pride already flushed down the toilet, which never mattered when he was looking at you like that.

“C’mon,” he coaxed, his tone all sweet. “You can do better than that.”

“Please,” you choked out, every ounce of shame dissolving into nothing, “Please, Rafe, don’t stop.”

He groaned, long and guttural, pulling his cock out leisurely before slamming back in, punching a moan from your throat.

“Can’t stop,” he murmured against your throat, lips worshiping your skin, tongue flicking out to taste. “Fuckin’ impossible.”

His thrusts never picked up, it was excruciating. His forehead was pressed against yours now, breath hot and heavy between you, both of you panting into the same space.

You whimpered, fingers twisting into his hair, pulling hard enough to make his eyes flutter shut for a second, jaw going slack, but then they snapped open again—blue and blown out, locked onto yours, because you knew he needed to watch you fall apart beneath him.

He tilted his head then, licking his lips as he leaned in, capturing your mouth in a painfully wet kiss. His tongue swept along yours, lazily. You whined into his mouth, and he swallowed it, groaning in his throat.

He wasn’t fucking you—he was pressing into you, as deep as humanly possible.

His tongue curled around yours, sucking, licking, all spit and heat, but neither of you cared. His lips lingered against yours, before he pulled back just an inch—just enough to let a thin string of saliva stretch between your mouths.

Your head fell back, a broken moan spilling from your lips, but Rafe didn’t let you escape. His hand was on your jaw instantly, forcing you to look at him.

"Nuh-uh," he murmured, his nose brushing yours, "Stay with me. Keep lookin’ at me."

His tongue flicked out, running over your swollen bottom lip, tasting the wet heat of your breath before he skimmed his teeth along it, teasing. His lips wrapped around your tongue, pulling it into his mouth, sucking. He groaned deep in his throat at the taste of you, at the way you let him, at how fucking eager you were, melting into him with a desperate little cry. Your lips were slick, your chins wet, when he finally pulled back, panting, but you were already chasing his again.

“More."

Rafe groaned, tipping your chin up with his thumb, eyes heavy-lidded as he dragged his tongue up the side of yours, before sucking it back into his mouth. He fucked into you deep, making sure you felt everything as he swallowed your whole fucking soul.

"Mmmm,” rasped against your lips, voice shaking. "You’re so fuckin’ sweet. Could do this forever."

His thumb brushed against your cheek, his breathing ragged as he rocked into you, as if his only purpose in life was to keep you filled.

“God,” he murmured, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe “You feel that?”

You could only garble in response, your fingers digging into his back, pretty nails leaving crescent moons in his skin. Of course, you felt it—how could you not? Every thick inch of him dragged against that devastating spot inside you, over and over, stretching you enough to make you tremble but never giving you enough to push you over the edge. He was torturing you with how good it felt.

He hummed, his lips curling as he brushed his nose against yours. “Can’t even talk, huh?”

You tried—you really did. But all that came out was a soft, breathless squeak, your head tilting back against the pillow. Rafe caught your cheeks before you could look away again.

“Uh-uh,” he scolded, his voice deep, “Wanna hear you.” He punctuated his words with another sluggish thrust, and your entire body shuddered. A high, needy sound slipped from your lips, and his pupils blew wide. “Shit, there it is.”

His hand slipped down your body, before his palm settled low on your stomach, pressing down—light at first, then firmer, right where he was inside you. Your breath hitched, the pressure making your walls flutter around him. His cock twitched in response, and he swore under his breath, hips stuttering for the first time since he started.

“Fuck,” he groaned, shaking his head. “You feel me?”

You nodded weakly, breath catching in your throat.

“That’s me,” he rasped. “Deep as I can go.”

Your entire body clenched around him, and Rafe let out a ragged moan, dropping his forehead on your chest.

“You’re gonna make me lose my fucking mind,” he panted.

You barely had the strength to smirk, but you managed. “M-Maybe that’s the plan.”

His mouth was right there, so close, and then—his breath fanned over the swell of your breast before he latched on, tongue flicking over your nipple before sucking hard, deep. A shaky sound escaped you, fingers flying to his neck, pulling, making him groan against your skin.

"Rafe—"

He hummed, satisfied, sucking again, harder this time, his hips rolling forward in tandem with the wet pull of his mouth. You pressed yourself further into his mouth, and he could only sigh at the way you offered yourself up so easily, so desperate for more, his tongue laving over your sensitive skin before moving to the other, giving it the same attention. He licked and sucked, as he murmured against you.

“Could stay right here all fucking day,” he whispered, kissing over your breast between words, his hand slipping up to squeeze the other. "Right here—fuck—just like this."

Your thighs tightened around him, your whole body buzzing, over-sensitive, overstimulated, yet still somehow desperate for more. His tongue flicked over your nipple again before he pulled away to watch the way it pebbled under his breath.

Rafe’s hands never stopped moving or touching—tracing yearning circles over your arms, cupping your breasts, his thumbs swiping over your pebbled nipples, just because he knew how much it made you shudder. He smeared open-mouthed kisses over your chest, up your throat, tasting the sweat on your skin. His lips ghosted over yours, teasing, never fully kissing you, and you couldn’t take it anymore. 

Your hands slid up his arms, over his shoulders, feeling the muscles flex beneath your fingers until they found their way into his hair.

You tugged for the millionth time that morning, making him grunt.

His lips feathered against your jaw, “Keep pulling like that and I won’t last.”

You couldn’t get enough, couldn’t feel enough, no matter how close he was, it still wasn’t enough. You needed more.

“Let me,” you panted against his lips, licking into his mouth between words. “Wanna be on top.”

Rafe’s eyes fluttered open, lips slick and pink from sucking at your skin. His fingers flexed against your waist, jaw clenching at the need in your voice, you were already trying to move, to take control.

“Yeah?” His voice was hoarse, a little desperate. His hands slid down, gripping your ass as he rolled onto his back, bringing you with him.

The second you were straddling him, you let out a shaky breath, feeling how deep he was like this, how he stretched you just right, the angle hitting something devastating.

Rafe smirked, hands already running up your thighs, gripping, kneading the flesh, watching the way you trembled above him. He let his head drop back against the headboard as you ground down experimentally, testing. 

You pressed both hands against his broad chest, feeling his heartbeat hammering against your palm. His body was burning beneath yours, and god, the way he looked—his hair disheveled from your fingers, his lips swollen, it was making you delirious.

You needed more.

You started moving, deep rolls of your hips, letting him stroke against every aching, sensitive spot inside you, making you both shudder. Rafe swore under his breath, his grip tightening as his head tipped back, jaw clenched.

“Fuck—just like that,” he groaned, his hands sliding up, thumbs brushing just beneath your chest. “Look so fuckin’ pretty riding me like this.”

You leaned down, grazing your lips over his throat, tasting his skin, feeling the way he shook as you pressed kisses down to his collarbone, licking, biting, marking him up the way he did you.

Rafe’s hands flew to your ass, gripping, rolling you deeper onto his cock, making you gasp against his skin. "You tryin' to fuckin’ ruin me?" He couldn't decide what he wanted more—your hips, your tits, your face. "’Cause it's working."

You whimpered, lifting your hips before sinking down again, making you both gasp. His eyes locked on your face, watching every twitch, shudder, every whimper.

"You feel so good," you whispered, rubbing your hands down his chest, over his abs, feeling them tense beneath your palms. "So deep, Rafe."

His breath stuttered, his hands sliding back to your waist, guiding you into a slow, lewd grind, helping you glide him against that spot that made you tremble.

"You wanna feel me in your fuckin’ stomach, huh?" His voice was a rasp, a tease, but his eyes were half-lidded, his mouth parted in awe, watching the way you moved. "Gotta have me so deep you feel me for days?"

You gasped, nails digging into his skin. "Shit—yes, yes, please—”

Rafe growled, sitting up so fast you squealed, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you in, your chests flush as his mouth crashed against yours. He kissed you matching the lazy intoxicating drag of his cock inside you, his hands everywhere—your back, your thighs, your face. He traced over your cheek, his thumb swiping just beneath your lip, pressing, feeling the way your mouth parted even more for him, giving him everything, his fingers slid into your hair, gripping at the roots, angling your head just right so he could dive in deeper.

He pulled back, painting against your lips, forehead pressed to yours, eyes hazy. Your thighs trembled where they were wrapped around his hips, his fingers slipping between you, pressing against your clit, rubbing tight circles that sent white-hot pleasure curling up your spine.

“That’s it,” he murmured, “Know you’re close—feel you squeezin’ me.” His forehead pressed harder against yours, his breath uneven, restraint hanging by a thread. “Come on, pretty girl, wanna feel it.”

You whimpered, gasping as the tension inside you coiled impossibly tight. Every drag of his cock, every flick of his fingers, every breathy moan against your lips—it was too much. Your nails scraped down his chest, dragging red lines, but Rafe barely felt it, wholeheartedly focused on the way you were shaking, how your walls clenched around him like you were made to take him.

Your head dropped back, mouth falling open as you moaned, "Y-Yeah—oh my God—Rafe—"

Rafe groaned as he slammed up into you, chasing his own high, his movements frantic now. “Fuck—fuck—” 

Your thighs shook, your back arching as your orgasm slammed into you, your cunt tightening around his cock like you never wanted to let go.

"Shit—oh shit, fuckkk—" You gasped, babbling, the words barely forming as your body convulsed around him, muscles tensing and releasing with every wave of pleasure.

He felt it—the way you gushed around him, drenching him, the obscene, slick sounds making his jaw clench.

"Baby," he rasped, voice tight, "You're fuckin’ coming all over me—makin’ such a goddamn mess—”

You whined, helpless, your hips still rolling, chasing every last drop of pleasure. Your thighs were sticky, coating him all over, dripping down, soaking the sheets beneath you.

Rafe’s hands were shaking as he held you, watching the way you quivered, breathless, ruined. He thrust up once, twice—grinding deep into your overstimulated cunt, making you wail. His jaw clenched, a ragged groan ripping from his throat.

Your mouth was open, little gasps spilling out as he kept fucking up into you, chasing his own high. His thrusts were hungry, his fingers digging into your ass, keeping you exactly where he wanted you

Your body was completely overstimulated, but you didn’t stop, or couldn’t stop. You were too dizzy off the way Rafe was ruining you, how he was holding you down, forcing you to take every inch that had your mind blanking.

Your lips brushed against his ear, as you pouted, "Rafe—baby, you’re so deep—’s so much, so fucking big—" Your words slurred, just a string of filthy, broken sounds, no shame left. "You f-feel that? How I’m dripping down your cock? So messy, all over you—your fuckin’ cum, all yours—"

Rafe let out a wrecked groan, his whole body tensing, his fingers digging into your skin hard enough to bruise. His head fell back, eyes squeezed shut, jaw slack, completely lost in it.

"Fuck," he choked, his abs flexing under your touch, "Shit, you’re—" He cut himself off with a whimper, actually fucking whimpering, because you were still talking, still feeding him filth, still pulling him deeper into that haze.

"Need you to cum—need to feel it, wanna feel you inside me—" Your voice was high, needy, almost delirious. You pressed sloppy kisses along his jaw, panting against his skin, shoving your hand into his hair, tugging. "You’re so good, fuck me so good—please, please give it to me—wanna feel you break inside me—"

Rafe cursed, the sound strangled, his hips stuttering as his whole body locked up. His eyes rolled back, his lips parting in a silent moan, almost crying from how hard he came. His cock twitched violently, pulse after pulse of hot cum spilling inside you, so much, too much, his whole body shaking, his chest heaving as he tried—and failed—to catch his breath.

His hands were still trying to hold you still, but he was weak, twitching, shaking.

You were both past the point of reason or past the point of stopping.

You kept milking him through it, dragging out every shudder, every pulse of pleasure, every last wrecked noise from his throat.

Rafe’s hands flew to your waist, trying to still you, to slow you down—but he was already spent, his face twisted in agony, pleasure so sharp it bordered on pain. You were just as fucked out, but you couldn’t stop, not when it felt this good

You shuddered when your body finally stopped, his hands smoothing up your back, grounding you. He pressed his forehead against your cheek, breathing hard, chest still rising and falling against yours. His lips found your skin, his thumb brushing along your cheek, soothing, even though neither of you could form words yet.

His cock twitched inside you one last time, overstimulated, and a broken sigh slipped past his lips as he moved, rolling onto his side with you still wrapped around him, his cock slipping free, and you both hissed at the loss.

You felt the remnants of him between your thighs, the sticky evidence of everything you'd just done, but you didn’t care when Rafe was already tilting your head up, capturing your lips in another kiss.

"Gimme a minute," he hummed against your mouth, smirking as he kissed you again, slower this time, fingers skimming lazily down your back. "Then we're doing that again."

You exhaled a breathless laugh, already melting against him. "Yeah?"

He nipped at your bottom lip, voice thick with promise. "Yeah."

You’d worry about the pet names later.

[ghiblygirl]

Poly!Ghoap You, Johnny, and Simon all travel to Johnnys hometown and spend the holidays with his family. (Johnnys mom LOVES Simon and would trade Johnny for him.)

Poly!Ghoap will split up home chores, Johnny will be outside and doing ‘blue jobs’, Simon likes doing laundry because I think he’s an organized king, and you have to cook because these boys cannot (seriously please don’t let them in the kitchen)

Poly!Ghoap who has fun hobbies, I imagine Simon likes knitting because his mom did. Johnny would love building mini figurines (he was definitely a Lego kid no debate)

Poly!Ghoap unironically loves rom-coms and will be sat on the couch with a bowl of popcorn for the new episodes of Love is Blind.

Poly!Ghoap has AWFUL sleeping habits. Johnny cannot stay still, even when he’s sleeping. And don’t even get me started on Simon, because when he’s home, he sleeps like the dead and sounds like I, too. I mean snores like a dad, so get ready to worm yourself out of bed at 1 am and sleep in the guest bedroom (don’t be surprised when you wake up squished back in between your boys)

[rafesbabygirlx]

A Lot of Time has Passed | Series Masterlist

Currently in the works.

Pairing: Season 4 Rafe x Maybank reader

Summary: Beginning at the time jump, the Pogues seemingly succeeded at something, Rafe is struggling with making amends and being a better person. JJs sister left the island after returning from South America. Returning after 18 months with a secret.

Warnings: there are many, including, fluff, smut, pregnancy, anger, loss of life, etc.

Each part with have their own.

Moodboard

𝚜𝚖𝚞𝚝 ⟢ 𝚏𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏 ❀ 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝 ☾

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 1:

𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 1 ⟢

𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 2 ❀ ☾

𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 3 ⟢ ☾

𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 4 ⟢

𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 5 ❀

𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 6 ⟢ ☾

𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 7𝙰 ⟢ ☾

Part 7𝙱 ⟢ ☾

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 2:

𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝟾 ⟢☾

𝙳𝚛𝚊𝚋𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚜:

𝙷𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚢 𝙷𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚗 - 𝚃𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚔 𝚘𝚛 𝚃𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 4𝚢𝚘 𝚅𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚗𝚎 ❀

𝙸’𝚕𝚕 𝙰𝚕𝚠𝚊����𝚜 𝙷𝚎𝚕𝚙 𝚈𝚘𝚞 - 𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙼𝚊𝚢𝚋𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 ❀

𝙸𝚗 𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝙼𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝙹𝙹

[teapartyprincess4two]

Talkative- M. Sturniolo

pairing: Yapper!reader x Boyfriend!Matt

classification: SFW & NSFW headcannons

inspiration: request

warnings: some 18+ content, use of y/n, established relationship

summary: head cannons of Matt with a talkative, yapper girlfriend!

Talkative- C. Sturniolo (Chris’s Version)

Talkative- N. Sturniolo (Nick’s Version)

—

☆ SFW

It’s no secret that you love to talk, you can ramble on about topic after topic and never run out of things to say. Matt loves listening to you, whether you’re retelling your day or just discussing a topic you find interesting.

☆ you always ask him rhetorical questions in between your stories, “Okay, but can you believe she said that?” But you never give him enough time to respond.

☆ he just nods his head and hums in response, confused with all the characters of the story.

☆ when you’re watching a movie you always start asking questions about the characters or commenting on the scene.

☆ “why did they do that?” or “wow that’s a cute dress, I really like that.”

☆ most times he responds just so you know he’s listening, but other times he’ll ignore you because he’s too immersed in the movie.

☆ “Y/n I don’t fucking know, this is my first time watching this movie too,” and “That is a cute dress, baby. You’d look nice in it.”

☆ you’re ALWAYS last to finish your meal, mostly because you keep talking in between bites.

☆ he listens intently, responding in between mouthfuls of food with small “uh huh’s” and “yup’s.”

☆ by the end of your stories you’re usually not hungry anymore, so he eats your leftovers while you start yet another story.

☆ when you guys go through drive throughs he knows to just sit as far back into the drivers seat as possible.

☆ you’re leaning over him, chatting with the worker and somehow managing to learn their whole life story before you can even order.

☆ or when you’re going somewhere new and he needs the GPS you’ll constantly talk over it

☆ after missing like five exits, he begins to find it annoying

☆ “Babe, shhhhh,” he’ll smother your mouth with his hand while he grips the wheel with the other.

☆ that never stops you though, you just mumble from behind his hand.

☆ you’re such a good story teller that he can imagine everything you say.

☆ your stories have him dying of laughter, and it’s even funnier that you don’t laugh, you just continue telling the stories like normal.

☆ by the end of your story his face and ribs hurt from laughing so much, “Holy fuck that was hilarious.”

☆ when you say outlandish things he stares at you in shock, “Y/n! You can’t say that!”

☆ you just stare at him blankly and continue voicing your opinions.

☆ he looks at anyone who tells you to shut up with the ugliest, meanest stank face.

☆ you talk to EVERYONE whether it be in the checkout line in the grocery store or in the waiting room at the doctors office.

☆ Matt just turns away for one second and then when he looks back at you, you’re talking to an elderly lady and walking in the complete opposite direction.

☆ “Aw Matt, she said her cat died.”

☆ “Y/n, the cashier asked for your card.”

☆ “Oh, right! So sorry about that-”

☆ “You know what? I’ll pay for it,” he cuts you off before your rambling can distract you again.

☆ on the odd days that you’re quiet, he’ll know somethings wrong.

☆ you’re just sitting on the couch, scrolling through Netflix on the TV or typing away mindlessly on your laptop.

☆ “What’s wrong with you?” he says abrasively, like if he’s upset that you’re quiet.

☆ you’ll just shake your head, choosing to remain silent.

☆ “Did somebody do something to you? Why are you so quiet?” he’s ready to fight whoever made you upset.

☆ “I’m just tired,” you mumble, followed with a quick shrug.

☆ He doesn’t pry, he just lays with you and waits until your mood picks up so he can listen to more stories.

☆ if he ever starts telling someone a story you’re quick to interrupt, “no that’s not what happened!”

☆ he playfully rolls his eyes and lets you take the spotlight.

☆ NSFW

Although Matt loves listening to you talk, sometimes it becomes too much. So, he has to get creative and think of ways to shut you up.

☆ the movie is getting good and you won’t stop talking, asking about the characters and the storyline.

☆ next thing you know you’re on your knees with Matt’s dick in your mouth.

☆ he’ll let you do all the work as he continues to watch the movie in silence.

☆ sometimes you’re a little too friendly with strangers.

☆ Matt’s not usually the jealous type, but he knows that guys get the wrong idea when you’re talking to them and that they mistake your friendliness for flirting.

☆ he’ll pull you away and take you to a secluded area, “we gotta go.”

☆ “Wait but I wasn’t finished talk-“

☆ “we gotta go, Y/n.”

☆ then he’s fucking you and making you talk to him through it, “C’mon, I thought you weren’t finished talking.”

☆ you’re forced to babble your way through it, each thrust fogging your brain more and more.

☆ other times he’ll let you use your words to praise him.

☆ like when he’s eating you out, he just wants to hear you say how good he’s doing.

☆ “Yes, baby, right there. You’re making me feel so good.”

☆ after, he’ll make you ride him and whisper sweet nothings into his ear.

☆ “You feel so good, baby. So big, I can’t take it.”

☆ your words are always enough to send him into a frenzy.

☆ he’s wrapping his arms around your waist and bucking into you until he cums.

☆ when you guys are done having sex, he’ll cuddle into your side and lay his head on your chest while you play with his hair.

☆ these are the moments when he talks and you just listen, only chiming in occasionally.

—

MASTERLIST

A/n:

YAP 🗣️YAP 🗣️YAP🗣️

thank you for this request I luv that I’m cementing my legacy as a certified yapper 😏

- L.A.M.B👼🏻💗

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