#Reader: 0=v=0

[iaminpainfr]

There's no more yugioh x reader stuff, I'm gonna die of starvation 😔

[hildannette]

every time a new popular otome game drops there is always a jumin han dupe character who's like the smart serious rich successful guy with the darkest hair color and every time i'm like "ok but does he even have a homoerotic best friend"

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

hhh strong strong urge to write a part 2 to fireflies never came T_T

[fanfictiongreenirises]

.

[seichv]

˖ ࣪⭑ CERTIFIED FREAK !

☆ sum: sunday, gallagher, aventurine, and sampo's kinks.

contents: nsfw (MDNI!!!), f!reader, bdsm, dacryphilia, exhibitionsim, orgasm denial, slight degradation, praise, p in v, fingering, creampie, squirting, daddy kink (gallagher) sampo is subby and whiny, choking, just... freak shit hehe ;)

note: writing slump: 0 ellie: 1 ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

SUNDAY - BDSM

yeah, he can indeed fool someone with those angelic looks, can’t he? he can easily deceive with them. giving you the impression that you could get away with just about anything under his watch, huh? you were simply wrong. little did you know the things he was capable of.

who would’ve thought you’d find yourself tied up, bound, hands clasped together by ropes, ankles tied to the ends of the bed, with sunday looming over you like a tantalizing, impending, dooming shadow, his sharp gaze like daggers, like frosty ice, boring into you, boring deep. 

“should i have brought a gag along with me too, darling?” he teases, inching his face closer and closer to you as your pussy pulsates with a brutal need, drenched in your arousal. he can practically smell it on you. smell your surrender, your submission. 

and oh, how beautiful the sight of your naked form is… trembling, goosebumps tickling your skin. it’s purely art to him. a masterpiece. and it's all for him and him only.

you vigorously shake your head in response, watching him slowly stroke his cock as he aligned it just barely at your weeping entrance, and you impetuously rut your hips up, desiring friction, attention, any sort of contact, as you writhed in agonizing desperation, deprivation. "n-no, please… please, fuck me…”

he hums at the sound of your frail voice, a smile spreading along his face. "such a pretty mouth uttering such filthy words… hm,”

and before you can say anything else, you suck in a deep gasp, the intrusion of his length taking you out in one go. he buries himself to the hilt in one thrust, and slowly, tormentingly begins rolling his hips, watching your expression like a hawk the entire time. he can’t help but hiss, your spongey, melting walls encasing him, sheer blankets of your slippery slick smearing along his cock. this couldn’t be mere pleasure anymore, this was euphoria.

and he’s already lost his sanity,

“o-oh, yes, yes,” you gasp, the thump of your heart skyrocketing in speed, as his pelvis starts smacking into yours faster… and harder… the woody material of the bed frame beneath you creaking, and ramming into the walls. you simply can’t understand how he can possibly feel so good. reaching places inside you you never knew you could feel, as if he were attempting to merge the two you into one.

"i want you to tell me,” sunday whispers breathily, glacially, almost like an eerie rustle of wind, like a whoosh of arctic air blowing right through every inch of your weakened, restrained body. he reaches out, takes your jaw in his slender hand, his penetrating stare not moving an inch from your beady eyes. “how good does it feel, darling?”

your vocal cords are giving up on you, being pulled at with every labored mewl and sob running off from your quivering lips. you can barely form a response, a creeping warmth scratching at your skull, making you feel dumbified. “s-so good! c-can’t… last long…”

and neither can sunday, not with how pretty you look, not with how the sweet, harmonic melody of your sounds makes the ache in his cock escalate overwhelmingly. all the sensations are getting sharper, more vivid, his pulse syncing with his rapid panting.

"cum with me,” he permitted, his tone close to urgent, almost like a plead. “let go for me. together.”

and it all happens quick. sunday grabs onto your waist, tightly as if for leverage or grounding, his eyes going wide as he’s met with his climax, his cock twitching inside your cunt before dumping his load inside, strained groans breaking out his throat as you gush all over him simultaneously.

yeah, he’s addicted. addicted to basking in the blissful pleasure of your body, basking in it with you.

GALLAGHER - EXHIBITIONISM

oh, the things you do to him.

he’s on a shift. but you, being the damn minx that you are, decided to prance on into the drink lounge with your pretty ass, giving him that look, seductively licking the rim of sugar that coated the top of your glass, while looking him dead in the eye.

you little tease,

would it be shocking for you to end up pressed up on the wall in the employee room, that gratuitously short skirt (that you very much wore on purpose) hiked up around your waist, with his thick cock drilling into you? he shouldn’t even be indulging in this, since you’re such a brat. you shouldn’t be getting what you wanted. but he can’t fucking resist, not when you play with him like that.

"showing up to the lounge, teasin’ me like a little slut, huh? while i’m working?” he snarls, his deep, gruff voice snaking up from behind you and right into your ear, making your knees give out. gallagher peers down, before lightly pushing at your ankle with his boot, urging you to spread those pretty little legs wider for him, his hands grabbing at your bubble ass, fondling and spreading the globe-y flesh. he wants a nicer view of that pussy swallowing him whole.

and god, it’s like a fucking glove. a sleeve,

your pussy is crying for him, hugging him, holding on like you can’t bear the thought of letting him go. you’re coating him in that creamy, syrupy slick, and every stroke has the static in your mind playing more and more frenzied. and he’s just so big, that thick head of his cock bullying your cervix with every sloppy, rough smack of his hips against that ass… fuck.

"hngh— n-needed you… so bad…” you’d whimper, choking on every whiny noise that you try to suppress, as you’re still trying to keep in mind that you are indeed in public. not that you’d admit that it turns you on more. you can’t help yourself. not when you’ve got him on your mind all day, his musky scent that engulfs your senses in flames, his perfect body… those muscles that you’re always ogling at.

oh, and speaking of muscles— your eyes suddenly roll right back into your skull the moment his beefy, rock-hard bicep curls around your throat, manhandling you in a chokehold, pulling your head back and making you arch against him, his dazy gaze right up in your fucked-out face, and he chortles. 

"yeah, didn’t you? can’t go a little while without some dick, huh?” gallagher practically growls, his teeth gritting hard with his jaw taut and set in a firm clench. if anyone could get a glance of his expression right now, they’d think he fucking hates your guts, like he’s fuming. with the way his sleeves are pushed up his arms, the veins in his forearm are visible, throbbing and bulging just like the veins of his cock inside you, the veins that your pussy can map out perfectly,

"w-with no haah— panties underneath this fucking shit,” gallagher groans, before his free hand lands a sharp smack to your ass, leaving behind a delicious sting. he’s not even surprised that you like that shit. like the naughty, cock-hungry whore you were. 

“daddyyy…” you whine, your tongue lolling out dumbly as you went limp, every part of you going numb except your pussy, throbbing and aching harder and harder the more he plowed into you with ruining force, as if he was trying to make you crumble apart entirely.

”gonna cum for daddy, huh?” gallagher huffs, his tone of voice nearly mocking. “yeah… how ‘bout you shut the fuck up and take it? k-keep milking my shit dry f’me… f-fuck.’

and that’s when it hits, your orgasm. it’s like a freight train, like a harsh blow, knocking you out in a blink of an eye. there was no way you could hold it anymore, not with the authority in his voice combined with his unmatched fervor and strength—

it’s splattering, your juices squirting out your pussy like a fountain, your mouth agape as your nails claw at his arm that stayed put around your throat. gallagher groans out loud at the sight, his own eyes rolling back as a rushed, ‘fuck, fuck,’ rasps out his strained throat. thick, hot streams of his seed plugs your wet heat up to the very brim, and he stays there, panting hard with you pressed against him.

"f-fuck, sweetheart. made a goddamn mess—"

"gallagher?! whaddya’ doin’ in there, man? you disappear on me, or what?” aaand there’s siobhan… fuck.

you can only glance back at gallagher with a cheeky little giggle. hehe… whoops.

AVENTURINE - DACRYPHILIA

“don't you take those eyes off of me.” aventurine coos, his gaze flickering back and forth from your pussy, then back towards your face. he’s got you prettily sprawled out on the bed, two of his slender fingers pistoning inside your drooling cunt, curling at just the right angle, reaching nice and deep. his vigor is just relentless, you’re desperately trying to clamp your legs together, your face shying away as your eyes squint and your eyebrows curl inward, a squeal escaping from your throat.

“oh, i don’t think so,” aventurine grunts, his free hand roughly spreading your legs back open, his forearm shoving against the back of your thighs so that they stay pushed back. “you are not running from me, darling. take it like a good girl, won't you?” he purrs, and you gasp, dragging out a hoarse whine as he picks up the pace, the wet sloshes that your cunt produces getting progressively louder. even flecks of your juices were flying out with every thrust of his hand at this point, and fuck, was it lewd…

“gonna cum—!” you’d croak out, warm tears flooding your vision and pooling up along the waterline of your eyes as you’re unable to sit still, creaks and rustling ringing out from the bed as you desperately attempt to thrash around, despite aventurine holding you in place. that familiar tingle in your lower tummy was brewing up, and quick.

and oh, were those tears he saw?

the ache and the strain in his pants only hardens at the sight, serving to drive him even crazier. he can’t help it. you look so helpless, so vulnerable, yet so needy, so desperate. and it’s all because of him…  fuck. makes him wanna devour you whole, like he’s lost every train of thought, every bit of composure…

“my, oh my,” he snickers, shaking his head incredulously as he keeps his gaze glued to you, his violet orbs bordering a feral look to them. he loves seeing those crystal streams trickling down those cheeks that are prominently coated in a deep, rosy flush of color. you look like a doll.

his doll,

and he can tell when his doll is close. that adorable look on your face gives it away, eyes wide, gazing up at him, your mouth dangling open, hands grasping at the sheets for dear life. “gonna cum for me, aren’t you?” he murmurs, his tone low, almost taunting, so velvety, so smooth, it's practically spine-chilling, and that alone makes your walls clench around his digits once more. as if you hadn’t done that enough already.

"y-yes, gonna— fuck!” you’re cut off as aventurine’s thumb meets your clit, rubbing the swollen nub with skilled precision, causing your pleasure to soar up to insanely imposing heights. its as if he’s trying to coax your pussy into orgasm, trying to lure you into cumming. and fuck, is he doing a good job at it. a good job is an understatement. his hands... it’s like they could cast a damn spell on your pussy,

“cum, pretty. make a mess all over my fingers. go on,” he urges, the smirk on his face flashing brighter as one last whimper rips out from your throat, until you’re squirting all over his hand, and his mouth drops open, his pupils blowing and darkening.

"oh, yess,” he groans, eager to milk every last drop out of your pretty pussy, continuing to finger fuck you through your high, elongating it, even as you’re a shaking mess, trying to pry away from him. 

“mhmm, would you look at that,” he huskily purrs, sliding his creamy, sticky fingers out your pussy with a squelch, licking them clean with a smirk, before your pussy throbs at the contact of his hand meeting it in a mean slap, spanking your pussy and sending a jolt through your body. 

"made my pretty girl cry from both her eyes, and her pussy, hm? poor thing…”

SAMPO - ORGASM DENIAL

sampo is a mouthy one, there’s no doubt about that. roguish, cocky, cheeky. you can't help but feel this itching urge to shut him up. to put him in his place.

hence why you’ve got him in between your legs, his back to your chest, one of your hands pumping his cock while the other is over his mouth, muffling his needy moans.

he’s bucking his hips up as you stroke his cock, fucking up into your hand, his eyes rolled back,

”ohh, baby,” you coo with a sly grin, your warm breath fanning against the shell of his ear before you give it a small nibble. “don’t tell me you wanna cum already, hm? its too early for that, silly boy.”

you lift your hand off of his mouth, only to gently wrap it around his throat, and he lets out a hoarse whimper, shaking his head. “n-no… w-won't cum yet… won’t cum…” he whines, and it practically pains him to say that, as he’s just dying to cum, his angry tip flushed bright red, his balls heavy and aching, desperate for release.

"good boy. you just sit still and take it.” you giggle, your words alone making him even needier by tenfold, his legs shaking, his hands grasping at your legs like lifelines. 

you’re pumping harder now, schlick after schlick, sticky and creamy, his arousal making a mess out of your hand.

he throws his head back against your shoulder with a loud moan, his hips bucking more frantically before you land a soft spank to his balls, earning a sound from his throat that almost sounded close to a shriek. 

“didn’t i just tell you to sit still?” you resume your quick, rough stroking as sampo has to hold back from literally throwing himself around, his consciousness practically out the window at this point. “you were doing so good f’me, sampo. what happened? don’t you wanna cum?”

"yes!” he’s quick to respond, burying his face in your neck as he sniffles, shaking hard like a leaf. “y-yes, please… ‘m sorry, so sorry… w-wanna cum so bad—!” he whines, hearing that buzzing begin to ring in his ears, his vision a bright white light. his limits are being pushed and pushed and pushed, about to burst like a balloon. its too much for him.

"p-please… can i cum for you? n-need to cum for you…” he whimpers, lifting his face to look into your eyes with a pleading, almost teary gaze. his cock is solid, and he needs this release so bad it’s close to paining him. “s-so much… i have s-so much for you…”

"mm, wanna make a mess all over me, don’t you? all for me,” you giggle, pumping especially harder at the tip, making the twitch in his thighs quicken.

"go on, then. cum for me. let me see how bad you need to,” pfft. you didn’t need to tell him twice. like jets, his cum splurts out, shooting straight up and all over your hand as he’s whimpering— whimpering fucking loud. his jaw falls slack, fat beads of sweat running down his temples, his eyes going straight back into his head yet again as he thrashes back against you. you gasp, chuckling softly as you keep your gaze glued to his twitching cock, leaning in to gently pepper kisses along his neck, making him shiver harder. 

”oh, lookkk at that,” you purr, your hand that was around his throat sliding up to brush his hair away from his face. “there you go, easy, baby,” you whisper, and he chuckles breathily, whimpering small little, ‘thank you’s’ before his eyes flicker back open and fall upon your tongue licking his cum off your hand.

yeah. that’ll do it for him. now he’s definitely gonna slurp your pussy off the bone.

[nebulousmoon3990]

GHOSTS OF THE PAST

(Batfam x neglected hero reader)

a bird longs for freedom, just like me.

WARNINGS: violence, swearing, writing errors (English is not my first language), torture, reader has blue eyes and black hair!, fem reader, spider man reader, everything is fictional!

CHAPTERS

0 → Prologue

I → ghosts

II –> Poison

III → Spider

IV → Mask [1] and [2]

V → Bats

VI → Thunder [1] and [2]

VII → Rain

[....]

OTHERS

memes

[1] and [2]

Scenarios

sweets~

Christmas special

[Name] design!

Special Thousand Views (Teeth)

Fanfic in progress, new chapters will be added soon!

[ramp-it-up]

Celebrate

Summary: Bucky gives you a gift for your birthday. But he gets the reward.

Word count: 2.5 K

Pairing: Congressman Bucky Barnes x Teacher!Reader

A/N: Definitely on my Bucky bullshit for a minute. Just block me now. Or, read, respond, and reblog! This is my bit of birthday self indulgence and may be based on real gift requests ;0. Love you heauxes! This is connected to Charm, and Claim, but can be read alone! I'm so down bad for these two. This has no Thunderbolts* spoilers.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Read at your own risk. All mistakes my own. Smut! Teacher Reader, Congressman Bucky, Dom!Bucky, but also Subby!Bucky, so switch! Bucky? Back/butt rugs, fingering f receiving oral, raw p in v, breeding kink, SIZE KINK, multiple orgasms, woman on top, orgasm denial, overstimulation, praise kink. begging, female masturbation, The L word!, tiny bit of the Sargeant kink, nicknames Charm and Baby, Basically pwp.

I do not have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

------

You and Bucky had a rhythm now: every other weekend.

One trip to DC, one to Brooklyn. It wasn’t perfect, but it worked. This weekend was your birthday. And you wanted out of the city.

So you took the train south, and by the time you reached his townhouse, the air smelled like lemon, butter, and something just slightly burnt, because Bucky insisted on cooking and refused help.

It still tasted amazing, because he made it with something neither of you had named yet.

Love.

He leaned in the doorway, sleeves rolled, tie loosened, wearing that smug little smirk like he knew he’d already won the night. You were curled on his couch in nothing but his t-shirt, a glass of wine balanced on your thigh, and the last bite of cake melting on your tongue.

“Good birthday?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

You nodded, then stretched just enough to make your point clear, your shirt, his t-shirt, riding up on your thighs a little as you groaned softly. 

“Mmm. Almost perfect.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow and sauntered over, hand bracing the back of the couch, body heat curling around you.

“Almost? Baby, I cooked for you. I let you win at cards. I didn’t even complain when you dragged me through that bookstore for forty-five minutes.”

You smirked, tilting your head to look up at him. 

“And I appreciate all of that. But…”

He narrowed his eyes playfully. “But?”

You set your wine down, pouting up at him just enough to play.

“I was thinking... maybe a back rub?”

He snorted. “You mean a butt rub.”

“I meant what I said.” Your tone was innocent. Your smile wasn’t. “It’s not my fault if your hands wander.”

He leaned down until his lips were brushing your temple, his voice a gravel-soft murmur.

“Sweetheart, when it’s your birthday, my hands are yours to do whatever you want with.”

His mouth found the side of your neck before you could come up with something clever to say, slow kisses trailing heat down your skin. You shivered, arching into him.

“C’mon,” he murmured, already lifting you in his arms. 

“Let me spoil you a little more.”

In the bedroom, he knelt behind you on the bed, thighs straddling yours, big hands working into your lower back beneath the hem of his shirt. His touch was slow at first, thumbs tracing your spine, palms kneading your lower back. But when your hips rolled back into him just a little too deliberately, he groaned.

“This what you had in mind, baby?” he asked, breath catching as you arched again, teasing. His hands slid lower, over the curve of your hips, then further, until he was massaging your ass like he owned it, and come to think of it, maybe he did.

You hummed. 

“Exactly what I wanted.”

His thumbs pressed into the base of your spine, but the heat in his touch betrayed him. 

He wasn't thinking about knots or tension anymore. He was thinking about the way your skin warmed under his palms. The way your hips tilted back to meet him. The little sound you made when he kneaded the underside of your butt.

“You really gonna pretend you just wanted a massage, Baby?” he murmured, mouth grazing your ear now. 

“That all you were after?”

You tilted your head to the side, giving him access, knowing exactly what that would do to him. 

“Didn’t say how I wanted it to end.”

His fingers glided from your lower back, over your beautiful ass, roving intimately. He massaged your thighs, dipping between them to rub your soft pussy through your panties, teasing.

"Turn over, Charm." His voice was a rasp. "Let me see my girl." 

Bucky flipped you gently onto your back, blue eyes dark now, his pupils blown as he looked down at you. The shirt had ridden high, and he pushed it higher, his knuckles dragging against your soft skin.  He ran his fingers over your nipples, tugging at them softly before he cupped your breasts, drawing every shiver from you.

"Open your legs." 

He ran his hands along your thighs and pulled you towards the edge of the bed. 

“I want to see that pretty pussy.”

He took his time, kissing down your torso, eyes never leaving yours until he had to close them, groaning as his mouth found the place just below your belly button, where you always shuddered for him.

“You smell so delicious,” he muttered, voice wrecked, like he was already unraveling. “You know what that does to me?”

You arched up in response, and he didn't wait. He hooked your panties down with a practiced kind of urgency, but still kissed every inch he uncovered. 

Every part of you felt claimed before he’d even touched you where you needed him most.

And when his mouth finally settled between your thighs, when his tongue licked a long, slow stripe and his hands held your hips down, your breath caught so hard it was a sob.

“Oh my god, Bucky!”

“Say it again,” he rasped, voice muffled, his mouth relentless. “Louder. I want the neighbors to know whose birthday it is.”

You were already shaking. He was too good at this, too practiced at making you fall apart for him. It was his favorite way to give. 

Not diamonds. Not champagne. Just you, undone.

Your fingers laced through his hair, pulling. He groaned into you and doubled down, like he needed it just as bad. Like this was his gift, too.

You came hard, trembling under him, his name a broken prayer on your lips. But he didn’t stop. Didn’t slow down, just licked and sucked until you were shaking under his mouth, coming so hard it almost hurt.

Then he slid up your body, grinning. He only stopped to kiss you again, mouth slick, eyes wild, cock heavy against your thigh.

"You’re fucking stunning. I need you dripping with my cum."

He slid over you, teasing you with his thick cock as he rubbed against your folds.

“God, you’re so wet already.”

“Wonder why,” you whispered, grinning.

That earned you a low growl. Vibranium braced your hip, the other hand fisted in the sheets beside your head, and then a guttural moan ripped out of you as he eased in, taking it slow because he was so damn big. 

The sensation was overwhelming, and you trembled on the bed, breathing deeply.

“Jesus, Bucky!”

“Yeah?” he rasped, eyes locked on yours. “That what you wanted? My cock for your birthday?”

You nodded, dizzy with it, but he was already moving, already moving his hips in that perfect rhythm that made you whimper every time he pulled out only to fill you again and again. Deep, rolling thrusts, each one carving you open just right.

"Say it," he groaned. "Tell me what you need."

"You," you gasped, wrapping your legs around him. "Harder. Just don't stop."

He went slowly at first, grabbing your hair in his fist as he thrust in and out of you, stroking your squeezing pussy with his pulsing cock. You arched up against him and he gave you more, everything you could take. 

He thrust harder. Rougher. His rhythm breaking just enough to show how close he was, how much he needed this.

Bucky’s control started to fray at the edges. You could tell in the way he cursed into your neck, in the way his rhythm started to stutter, rougher now, deeper as his hips snapped into yours.

“Gonna give it to you,” he promised, and he did, he gave you everything. The weight of him, the heat, the unspoken love in every thrust. He fucked you like you were the only thing that’s ever made him feel right.

Because you were.

You met him stroke for stroke, fingers digging into his back, nails raking as you got closer again.

“Gonna come for me again, birthday girl?” he panted, barely holding on. 

You nodded, breathless. “Yes, please, Bucky, I’m right there…”

“God, I wanna feel it. Wanna feel you squeeze me just like that, fuck, gonna cum inside you…”

And you did.

And he did.  

You shattered underneath him with a cry, body clenching tight around him, massaging the length of him in firm tugs until he lost it. He followed fast, burying himself deep as he came with a raw, broken groan that sounded like your name.

He didn't pull out right away; he was still hard.

“I want to do this all day and all night, forever, Charm.” 

You took his head in your hands and looked him in those beautiful eyes.

“Gonna give you what you need, Bucky.”

He broke, whispering a reverent, “I love you,” for the first time.

You grinned back at him and whispered it back. 

“I know. And I love you, too.”

Bucky laugh/sobbed and then proceeded to work the waves of your orgasm further, harder, until the waves of your next climax tugged tightly around his cock and he filled you with more hot bursts that made you come again. 

It was amazing.

His hands gripped you possessively, playing with your nipples and your clit, memorizing every perfect curve and groove, until you were coming yet again. Finally, he lay there, panting, his forehead pressed to yours, sweat-damp hair falling in his eyes as he kissed you like he didn’t want to let you go.

His smile turned lazy, confident, until you flipped him gently onto his back and straddled him, that same glint he wore now reflecting in your eyes.

“Did you get everything you wanted?”

“I can think of another gift I’d like…” you murmured, rolling your hips just enough to make him curse, “I want to ruin you.”

Bucky blinked up at you, caught between reverence and sheer, helpless lust.

“Jesus, Charm…”

“Do you understand, Sargeant?” you asked, dragging your nails down his chest, scraping his nipple deliciously. You took his arms and guided them above his head. 

“Now, keep your hands up here. Do. Not. Move. Understand?”

Bucky swallowed hard and nodded, voice gone, pupils blown.

“Yes, ma’am.”

You leaned in, lips brushing his ear.

“Good boy.”

You rolled your hips down against his watching the way Bucky’s eyes fluttered shut at the contact, how he bit back a moan, hands twitching where you’d pinned them to the bed.

But he didn’t move. Not without permission.

You smiled, pleased, and leaned in to kiss along his throat, leaving a mark just below his jaw.

“That’s better,” you murmured. 

“All this strength, all this control, and you give it to me.”

His breath hitched. “It’s always yours.”

You sat back on his thighs. Your hand slid between your bodies, wrapping around his cock, still hot and half-hard, soaking wet with your combined fluids, and already starting to throb again beneath your touch.

“Then let me take what’s mine.”

You stroked him slowly, deliberately, until he was fully hard again, aching for it, whining softly in his throat. You watched him fall apart under you, helpless and obedient, eyes glassy with need.

“Look at you,” you whispered, lining yourself up and sinking down on him in one slow, deliberate motion. “So fucking gorgeous when you let go.”

His groan was deep, desperate, like he was barely holding on.

You rode him slowly at first, then harder when you felt him start to twitch beneath you, like he couldn’t take it anymore. You leaned in close, lips brushing his.

“Don’t come unless I say.”

He whimpered, eyes wide, and you grinned as you rolled your hips again.

“You want to be good for me, don’t you?”

“Yes,” he gasped. “God, yes.”

You rocked harder, nails dragging down his chest again, and you felt him tremble underneath you. But he held on. Just like you told him to.

“Good boy,” you whispered, then gave him a filthy kiss. 

“Now tell me who you belong to.”

“You,” Bucky choked out. “I belong to you, Charm”

“Damn right you do.”

And then you let him break.

“Cum for me, Bucky.”

That was all it took.

The second the words left your mouth, he came with a wrecked moan, his entire body arching beneath you, cock pulsing as he spilled deep inside you. You didn’t slow. You kept riding him, hips grinding down to milk every last drop, your cunt squeezing him mercilessly until he was gasping for breath.

But you weren’t done.

Not even close.

His arms trembled where you still had them pinned. He looked dazed, flushed, pupils blown wide, lips parted like he’d forgotten how to breathe.

You leaned forward and kissed him, soft at first, then biting his lower lip as you clenched around him again.

“You didn’t think I was finished with you, did you?”

His breath caught.

“Baby, fuck, I don’t think I can…”

“You can. And you will.”

You pulled your hips up slowly, feeling his cock twitch inside you, still half hard, but oversensitive. You dragged your nails down his chest, then planted your hands on either side of his head, hips rolling with calculated precision.

“I want it again. Want to feel you get hard inside me while I use you.”

He groaned like he was in pain, but his cock was already thickening again, fighting through the aftershock to obey.

“That’s it,” you whispered, biting along his jaw. “Good fucking boy.”

You moved with ruthless grace now, your control absolute. You rode him like his only purpose was to fill you, please you, break for you. And he did. He took it all, shaking, panting, drowning in the way you fucked him.

And when you came again, clenching hard around him, moaning into his mouth, he whimpered like it hurt, and then begged to cum again.

“Please Charm, let me, please, let me come inside you again…”

You smiled wickedly.

“Not yet.”

You leaned back, hips still moving, watching the tension build in him again, watching how badly he wanted to obey. You pressed a palm to his chest, and let your free hand slip between your legs to rub your clit in tight, practiced circles, moaning shamelessly, knowing exactly what it did to him when you took control like this.

Bucky’s eyes were fixed to the spot and he bit his lip as he watched you.

And finally, when your breath started to break, when your thighs trembled and you could feel another climax building, you gave him his reward.

“Now, Bucky. Fill me.”

He shattered beneath you with a hoarse, broken cry, coming so hard it sent your orgasm crashing into you too. Your pussy clenched violently around him, drawing him deeper, milking him again as you rode both of you through it, grinding every drop out of him.

You collapsed forward, breathless and flushed, your body humming from the high of it, sweat-damp skin sticking to his.

Bucky wrapped his arms around you the second you let him, trembling and blissed out, lips finding your neck.

“Holy fuck,” he whispered hoarsely, voice raw. “I think you just rewired my brain. Supposed to be your birthday, not mine.”

You laughed softly, stroking his jaw, and kissed him with a slow, satisfied hum.

“Best Birthday ever.”

He smiled, boyish and ruined and beautiful. He kissed your shoulder.

“You sure? I've got more planned."

You hummed, fingers drifting down his back, nails grazing his skin.

“Hmmm. Well, we’ve got all weekend."

"Gonna give you everything you ever wanted, Charm."

"You already have, my Darling. My Bucky. My love."

[dakusan]

S K Z F A L L I N G I N L O V E

stray kids ot8 x reader | this is how they fall—soft, slow, and all at once.

🌙 synopsis: love doesn’t always arrive loudly. sometimes it slips in through laughter, late-night ramen, bookstore rambles, or the way your eyes crinkle when you’re proud of them. this is the moment it hits them. the heartbeat they’ll never forget. the thought they can’t shake. the shift from “i like her” to “oh. i’m hers.” get ready for bashful glances, overthought texts, unsent voice notes, and loyalty so deep it stings. this isn’t just a headcanon set. it’s a love letter. from them, to you.

💌 a/n: welcome to another sunday softdrops. hello to everyone who’s ever accidentally fallen in love with someone who tied their hoodie wrong or smiled weird during ramen. this is for you. this is cinema. this is spiritual collapse. this is accidentally locking eyes while brushing your teeth and now he’s pacing the hallway writing poetry in his notes app. p.s. reblog = kisses and love p.p.s. hydrate. wear something soft. never settle for a love that doesn’t look at you like Hyunjin looks at sun-warm skin and unscripted laughter p.p.p.s. drop a member + a soft scenario in my inbox and I’ll write it. no shame. no brakes. let’s emotionally disintegrate together 💌

📍credits: @cafekitsune for the dividers

🎧 » Love Again — Baekhyun « 0:58 ─〇───── 3:16 ⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻

Bang Chan // 방찬

🌙 The moment it hits him: You’re sitting on the studio floor, legs criss-crossed in that hoodie you always steal, eating spicy ramen with your hair a mess, humming quietly to the instrumental he left looping. It’s nothing fancy. No makeup. No posing. Just you, glowing under the dim studio light. You look up and smile—mouth full, eyes bright, like he’s your favourite person in the world.

His heart stutters. His breath catches. And then: stillness.

🖋️ Inner thought:

“Oh. Shit. I’m gone. I’m in love. There’s no coming back from this.”

💌 How he acts right after: Absolute silence. Like, full system shutdown. He suddenly “needs to focus” on the track, spins his chair around, fidgets with literally anything. He can't stop glancing at you in the reflection of the monitor, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling like a schoolboy.

You: “What’s wrong?” Chan: “Nothing.” Also Chan: writes 6 love songs in one night and names the folder “idk.”

🫀 How he is in love: Gentle. So, so gentle it aches. He pays attention to every detail—your snack habits, your late-night mood swings, the way your lip curls when you’re overthinking. He worries constantly. Holds you like you're something delicate and divine. He serves you, literally and emotionally.

💝 Love language: – Acts of service → makes you playlists, folds your laundry, rubs your feet at 3am. – Physical touch → forehead kisses, waist holds, late-night cuddle traps. – Reassurance → always reminding you: “I’ve got you. No matter what.”

Lee Know // 리노

🌙 The moment it hits him: You’re napping on his couch, curled up in a pile of his cats and blankets. There's drool on your cheek. One slipper’s fallen off. Your hand’s loosely tangled in Soonie’s fur. And for some reason, when he walks in and sees that—that chaotic little mess of softness in his space—his chest tightens. He stands there, completely still. And just breathes. Like if he moves, the realization will hit too hard.

🖋️ Inner thought:

“...Damn it. This is love, isn’t it?”

💌 How he acts right after: Unbothered™. But that’s a lie. He acts the exact same on the outside—dry, sarcastic, lightly roasting you every five minutes. But now, when he calls you annoying, there’s a softness to it. He lets you steal his hoodies without comment. He cuts the crusts off your toast even though he always said that was “a waste.” And when he tucks the blanket tighter around you, he doesn’t say a word. But his hands linger.

🫀 How he is in love: He loves quietly. Intensely. Like it’s sacred. He watches you more than he talks, memorizes your habits like he’s preparing for a test. He won’t say “I love you” often—but the second someone else hurts you, he’s the first to stand up, fists clenched. His loyalty is undeniable.

💝 Love language: – Quality time → he wants you in the room, always. even if you're doing nothing. – Acts of service → small, exacting things. he'll fix your charger, refill your water, remember your favourite side dishes. – Words of affirmation → but only at 3am. in the dark. when you're half asleep and he thinks you won’t remember.

Changbin // 창빈

🌙 The moment it hits him: You’re hyping him up after a recording session, arms flailing, voice full of chaotic praise like, “YOU’RE A GENIUS, SEO CHANGBIN. ACTUAL GOD-TIER. GRAMMY WHEN?” He laughs so hard he snorts. Then you toss your phone at him to queue your shared playlist, already scrolling to the song labelled “for binnie only 💘” like it’s just a normal thing to do.

And he just… pauses. Heart pounding. Smile fading into something softer. Because it’s not just a crush anymore. You’ve carved a home in his chest and didn’t even ask for rent.

🖋️ Inner thought:

“Holy shit. She sees me. Like, all of me. And still wants to stay?”

💌 How he acts right after: He becomes a walking compliment generator.

You breathe? “You’re so cool.” You trip on air? “Even gravity loves you.” You touch his arm for 0.5 seconds? malfunction noises

He works out harder. Writes more. Smiles more. But also starts sending dramatic voice notes at midnight like,

“Hey um… not to be weird but like… your existence inspires me?? okay bye.” [hangs up instantly]

🫀 How he is in love: Overflowing. He feels big, and he loves bigger. He shows up. Every time. Front row in life for you. Loudest hype man, softest cuddle bear, always checking in even if you don’t ask. His love is protective, silly, and deeply rooted in loyalty—he doesn’t fall often, but when he does? He dives.

💝 Love language: – Words of affirmation → compliments on compliments on compliments. – Physical touch → bear hugs, back hugs, lap cuddles, full weight of his love on your body 24/7. – Gift giving → protein bars, playlists, random trinkets that “reminded me of you, don’t ask why.”

Hyunjin // 현진

🌙 The moment it hits him: You’re sitting in the sun, surrounded by your own little chaos—open books, headphones half-falling out, doodles all over the margins, an untouched coffee gone cold beside you. And you’re smiling to yourself. You’re not looking at him. Not even aware he’s watching. And for the first time, he doesn’t reach for his phone to take a photo. He just… stares. Because this moment is his, and his alone.

And he realizes, with a soft kind of devastation,

“I’m already hers.”

🖋️ Inner thought:

“She’s a poem. A prayer. A painting I want to memorize in my sleep.”

💌 How he acts right after: Absolutely spirals. Draws your side profile 12 times and ruins 11 because “they don’t capture it right.” Starts journaling in half-English-half-messy-sketches. Tells Felix about it and then gets mad when Felix smiles knowingly. He gets so quiet around you for a few days—not cold, just reverent. Like he’s scared to touch the moment too hard in case it disappears.

🫀 How he is in love: Soft and dramatic at the same time. He holds your hand like it’s precious, but he also tells the moon about you like you're his eternal muse. Cries at the idea of your future together. Panics if you don’t text back in 20 minutes. Wants to show you the world, but more than that—he wants you to feel safe in his world.

💝 Love language: – Quality time → long walks. gallery dates. sitting in silence and feeling it. – Words of affirmation → whispered. written. cried into your hair at 2AM. – Gift giving → his hoodie. his poetry. flowers that “reminded me of you” and are never store-bought.

Han // 한

🌙 The moment it hits him: You’re laughing so hard you almost choke on your boba. You try to tell a story but you’re wheezing between every word, face red, tears in your eyes, and instead of helping—he just starts laughing with you. Like really laughing. Loud. Unfiltered. Giddy. And then your hand brushes his and you don’t move it. Neither does he. He freezes mid-laugh and goes silent. Heart racing. Staring at your hand like it’s a bomb and he forgot the detonation code.

🖋️ Inner thought:

“Oh. No. Nope. Not allowed. Too much. Too fast. TOO—oh god I like her.”

💌 How he acts right after: 🧍‍♂️← him trying to walk normally while his brain is buffering Goes from “haha bestie 🤪” to “DO NOT PERCEIVE ME” in 0.3 seconds. Can’t look you in the eye. Drops everything he’s holding for a full week. Randomly sends memes at 2am like “HAHA this reminded me of nothing in particular bye” Starts writing lyrics with your initials in them and then panics and changes them to random letters.

🫀 How he is in love: Unhinged. Loyal. So soft he doesn’t know what to do with himself. Tells you dumb jokes because he wants to be the reason you smile. Acts like he’s chill about everything but will lose sleep over whether you liked the playlist he made you. He’s all heart, no brakes. The type to say “I’m not obsessed or anything” and then write your name 73 times in a private doc called “DO NOT OPEN I’M NORMAL.”

💝 Love language: – Words of affirmation → “you’re amazing” 24/7. calls you pretty when you sneeze. – Physical touch → clings to you like a koala when sleepy. arms around your waist while cooking. forehead touches when he’s overwhelmed. – Gifts → voice memos. notebooks full of scribbles. late-night snacks labelled “eat this or I cry.”

Felix // 필릭스

🌙 The moment it hits him: You’re struggling with something—frustrated, eyes glassy, breath shallow. You try to smile through it, but he sees the crack in your voice. And instead of saying anything, you just... reach for him. Wordlessly. Trustingly. Like he’s your calm in the storm. And he holds you. No questions. No “what’s wrong?” And that’s when it clicks. You see him as your safe place. And now? He never wants to be anything else.

🖋️ Inner thought:

“I’d burn the whole world down just to keep her soft.”

💌 How he acts right after: SO SOFT. SO SHY. SO PANICKED. Starts checking in more often—"did you eat?" / "how are you feeling?" / "i saw a cloud and thought of you." Smiles at you like you’re made of glitter and stardust. He hugs longer. Texts sweeter. Starts journaling without realizing it. Cries at random songs because they "sound like you."

🫀 How he is in love: Loyal like a golden retriever. Protective like a knight. Gentle like warm tea in your hands. He wants to give—his time, his hoodie, the last bite, his full attention. He doesn’t love halfway. He pours. Will randomly whisper, “I love you,” mid-snack or during a grocery run. Just because.

💝 Love language: – Physical touch → hand-holding, pinky linking, long cuddles with your head on his chest where he can kiss your hair over and over – Words of affirmation → “you’re doing great,” “you’re beautiful always,” “you make me proud just by being you” – Gift giving → handmade bracelets, playlists with titles like “sunshine for my sunshine,” carefully wrapped little things he “just saw and thought of you”

Seungmin // 승민

🌙 The moment it hits him: You’re arguing. Not seriously, just bantering over which ramen flavor is superior. You’re passionate, dramatic, refusing to back down. He rolls his eyes, calls you a menace. But then—

You crinkle your nose at him. That same look you always give him. That smug little grin. And for no reason at all, his brain just short-circuits. Because suddenly, he realizes he never wants to argue with anyone else ever again.

🖋️ Inner thought:

“Oh god. She’s my person. She’s IT. That’s… that’s terrifying.”

💌 How he acts right after: Unchanged. Suspiciously unchanged. Keeps up the banter, calls you annoying, pretends like his heart didn’t just fall out of his chest. But he starts doing the quiet things—carrying your water bottle without asking, remembering exactly how you like your eggs, glancing at you when you laugh like it’s the last time he’ll get to hear it.

🫀 How he is in love: He doesn’t say it often—but he shows it in every micro-moment. He teases because he’s comfortable. He remembers everything you say. Stays up just to walk you home. Buys you medicine before you realize you’re sick. He doesn’t ask for much—he just wants to be the reason you feel steady.

💝 Love language: – Acts of service → does everything quietly. recharges your headphones. clears your plate. fixes your tech. – Quality time → invites you to sit with him while he works. listens when you ramble about nothing. – Words of affirmation (low volume) → slips in compliments when you least expect it:

“you’re really smart, you know.” “i like when you talk like that.” “i’m proud of you… just don’t make it weird.”

I.n // 아이엔

🌙 The moment it hits him: You’re dragging him through a bookstore, rambling about your favourite genre, talking a mile a minute. He’s not even following half of it—he’s too busy watching the way your eyes light up when you speak, the way your hands move when you’re excited. You stop mid-sentence, look back at him, and go:

“What? You’re staring.”

And he stammers some excuse—but the truth is, he just realized he wants to follow you around like that forever.

🖋️ Inner thought:

“Oh. Oh no. I’m in love. I’m so done for. What do I do. WHAT DO I DO—”

💌 How he acts right after: Absolutely panics internally. Externally? Tries to act cool. Cue awkward jokes. Random distance. More awkward jokes. Starts doing little things for you but blaming them on coincidence.

“Oh you forgot your charger? Weird that I brought an extra one for no reason.” “I totally wasn’t waiting here for you to show up. I just… happened to be standing exactly where you are now.”

🫀 How he is in love: He glows. Around you, because of you, for you. Gets bolder in bursts—sends texts like “I missed your voice today.” Wants to impress you but also wants to be vulnerable. He tries so hard not to mess it up. But love softens him, makes him gentle, open, kind in a way that’s deeply intentional. Every time you smile at him, he falls harder.

💝 Love language: – Gift giving → tiny, random trinkets. receipts with hearts. keychains. snacks he saw and thought “this is so her.” – Quality time → slow walks, late calls, staying on FaceTime even if you’re both doing other things. – Physical touch → hesitant at first, then clingy. loves resting his head on your shoulder or getting forehead kisses like he’s your baby bird.

[comatosebunny09]

2am | sylus

sum: your famous actor boyfriend takes you out for a drive, and then some. 2.6k words of cheesiness, vibes, and filth.

cw: actor!sylus au, female reader, fluff, language, p-in-v, pregnancy jokes, period mention, slight overstim, biting, marking, fingering, nipple-sucking, cheesiness, mdni

now playing: seoul city - jennie 0:01 ❍─────── 2:43 ↻ ⊲ Ⅱ ⊳ ↺

“Hungry,” you bemoan, rubbing your tummy. Your bottom lip juts out for good measure beneath the ambient wash of golden light in his bedroom. “I want chocolate.”

A light huff, followed by deft fingers closing around your wrist beneath the silken glide of bedsheets, answers you. “Late-night cravings again? You sure you aren’t pregnant?”

He chuckles and cringes away when you swat at him, expression not the slightest bit amused. 

“You know I’m not pregnant. And if I were, I’d kill you.” 

He props himself on an elbow and hand to study you, dragging the backs of his fingers down your exposed belly, tracking their lazy descent with smoldering, scarlet eyes. “I think you’d look beautiful carrying my child.”

Another smack, another laugh, another rustle of sheets. “Sylus, I swear to God—”

“Relax, sweetheart,” your boyfriend—God, it still makes you all warm and tingly calling him that—assuages, panning in for a taste of your lips. 

You groan into his mouth, a little lightheaded, a little breathless—a distraction. Of course. 

He draws back with a hand at the nape of your neck before you can fully surrender yourself.

“I’m merely teasing you. But you’ve had a sweet tooth nearly every night this week.”

You chew on your lip, sinking into the doughiness of his bed, toying with the stitching of his comforter. “My period must be coming on.”

He smooths his palm over your belly. The sheer size of it—how it swallows up the bulk of your flesh—makes your throat thicken. 

He’s contemplative, circling your navel with a short nail before exhaling slowly through his nostrils. “Would you like to go for a drive?”

You sit up faster than he can blink, the hem of his shirt brushing your thighs, radiating the energy of a golden retriever. “Can we?”

Sylus chuckles, an enamored sound, smile unguarded and wide as he boops your nose. “Sure, sweetheart. Get dressed.”

You don’t have to be told twice. And it’s comical, watching you fight the bedsheets for freedom, before you snatch your clothes from his armchair to race into the bathroom.

—

Sylus is territorial by nature. 

He’s not the biggest fan of people touching his things, especially the expensive ones. But you, being one of said things he covets, he gives a pass.

He lets you fill the cockpit of his car with your music, the sultry croon of R&B. It helps that he listens to everything. That you have similar tastes in music, and he’s drumming his fingers on the steering wheel in time with it, bobbing his head, mouthing the lyrics.

You’re adorable, do you know that? So cute, he lets you roll down the windows and shove your head out, the summery, night air lapping over your cheeks and threading through your teeth and hair.

He grabs your thigh, gentle yet firm, kneading your warm skin. Can’t help the grin rounding his mouth, the warmth spilling through his chest. 

The street lights flanking the road glaze over the sleek outline of his car, the windshield, and he finds himself thinking he’d give it all up for a bit of normalcy with you like this every day.

—

It’s a quarter ‘til midnight when Sylus pulls his car into the convenience store’s parking lot. 

He parks on the side, tucked beneath the shadows and in the security cam’s blind spot. It’s alarming enough to see a luxury car at a store so quaint. He doesn’t want to draw too much attention to you—your relationship is pretty low-key, and he respects your desire to keep it that way, lest his fans and the press have a field day with your face.

After killing the engine, he tucks his hair into an obsidian baseball cap. Draws up the zipper of his leather jacket to his chin, slipping a mask over his nose and mouth. He contemplates putting on shades, but then he’d look too suspicious.

You follow suit, donning a matching hat—God, you’re both disgusting. He’d bought it for you when he got his, because, as he said, “couples should match.” 

You rolled your eyes when he presented it to you, accepting it with a smile, playful yet genuine.

You hold hands when you exit the car, fingers laced, tucked into his side, giggling and shoving against him.

The store’s motion sensor chimes when the pair of you duck inside, the cashier looking up from her magazine with a warm smile to greet you. 

He’s reluctant to, but he lets your fingers slip from his when you meander down the candy aisle, lost in your own little world. He shoves his hands into his jacket’s pockets, skimming over the various snacks and trinkets lining the shelves. Head on a swivel, on the lookout for anyone who might recognize him. Luckily, you’re the store’s only customers. 

He sidles up behind your bent-over form, a finger held to your chin in contemplation as if you’re defusing a bomb. He gives you a once-over, eyes crinkling. You fill your jeans to filth. He can’t help himself, molding his hand to the shape of your ass.

You give a start, casting a surprised look at him from your shoulder before narrowing your eyes. 

“Sir,” you clip, tone impish, haughty, “I’m a minor.”

Sylus scoffs, breath warm against the cloth of his mask. “If you’re a minor, then I’m an infant. Now who’s robbing the cradle?”

He stiffens, anticipating a smack. It never comes, but he winces when you brush past him, instead pinching his side, in pursuit of the freezers. 

He follows you like a watchful Doberman. Rolls his eyes at the junk food filling your arms, dropping his shoulders in defeat. He gives you wiggle room around this time of the month where he’d typically give you shit for eating like that.

When you’re done perusing nearly every aisle, you retreat to the front counter. You deposit your wares on the countertop, colorful bags spilling down the pile like lava. One of your candy bars slips, careening to the floor. He reflexively catches it, tapping you on the head with it before tossing it onto the counter.

“Would you like me to buy the entire convenience store next time?”

You pull a face, clearly sick of his shit. 

“I don’t know this man,” you say, turning your attention to the cashier. 

You tug your wallet from your back pocket to pay. But he beats you to the punch, that telltale black card held to the PIN pad with lightning speed. 

You exchange a look, a wordless argument, before your chin juts out defiantly. You gather your bags of processed junk before the cashier stops you, crow’s feet lining her eyes to match the mischievous cant of her lips. 

She slips something with a suspicious-looking rhino on its cover into one of your bags, sealing whatever drug deal she’s made with a wink. 

Sylus doesn’t miss the mortification sinking into your features before you zip out of the store, leaving him to blink bewildered at the trail of dust clouding in your wake.

—

He pretends to be annoyed when, on your way back to his penthouse, you fix him with those beseeching, puppy eyes, gentle fingers clasped around his wrist, begging him to stop at a drive-in restaurant for a milkshake. More specifically, a chocolate one.

“Are you sure you’re not pregnant?” he taunts over the quiet purr of his engine, garnering a fist to his chest.

He humors you nonetheless. He lives for these moments with you, free of the blaring set lights and scrutinizing eyes. Where he can adore you freely, have you all to himself, unhindered by your positions, your status. 

He watches you talk all sweet into the mic with his chin in his palm, elbow propped on the center console, ordering more than just a milkshake. 

You look back to ask if he wants anything, eyes round, face gorgeous, haloed by the halogen glow of the spotlight. He declines, figuring he’ll snatch whatever’s in your bag when you’re not looking. 

Food always tastes better when it’s someone else’s.

You swat at him when he digs into your carton for a mozzarella stick, blissfully munching on your spoils. 

“I asked if you wanted anything, and you said no.” You make a face, turning your chin up, mouth full of fried cheese.

The mild annoyance on his face transitions into something impish. And before you can blink, he pitches himself over the center console, kissing you nice and slow. Greedy, teasing, slipping his tongue into your mouth to milk a gasp from you. 

He draws back, fingers loose on the steering wheel, grin shit-eating. You’re gobsmacked, a half-eaten mozz stick pinched between your fingers, frozen halfway to your mouth. 

“Tastes better when it comes from you, anyway.”

You scoff, calling him a dork as he starts the car, trying to hide that shy little smile behind your hand.

—

It’s two in the morning by the time you’re back in his penthouse. Swathed in the soft glow of his cabinet lights, seated on the crisp kitchen floor in front of the fridge, legs entangled, laughter filling the tranquil atmosphere. 

You’re feeding each other chocolate-dipped strawberries. Your idea, donned in your bra and panties, Sylus in boxer briefs, as you try and fail to toss chocolate chips into his mouth. 

It’s sensual. Something like a dream. Two lovers untouched by the world, existing in each other’s presence without the fear of it being front-page news. 

Chocolate sauce drips down the swell of your cleavage while you’re halfway through a strawberry. He follows its languorous descent with ravenous eyes before pulling you, laughing and squealing, onto his lap. 

“Such a messy eater,” he drawls, smiling against your lips, your sides warm and doughy between his fingers. 

He kisses you, once, twice, the tang of strawberry intermingled with the flavor of your mouth. He then ducks down to seal his lips to your breast to swipe at the ganache sliding down with his tongue. Your giggles transition into a pleasured breath out, fingers automatically burying themselves into his hair, head thrown back. 

He growls low against your flesh, nipping it, sure to leave a bruise. You wind your hips against him, so deliciously out of your mind, so pretty, the apex of your thighs grinding pleasantly against his girth.

“Here?” he husks, moving to pay your unattended breast the same homage. “On the floor?”

You nod, biting your lip to contain your smile, your eyes closed. It’s increasingly difficult to focus with his mouth moving like that. With his teeth scraping your skin, with his cock bumping your clit just right, his arms wound tight around your waist, so thick, so reassuring.

He’s laying you down onto your back before you can think, slow and meticulous like an offering laid onto an altar, open-mouthed on your neck, voice thick and lustrous. 

You arch your back to let him unclasp your bra, lift your hips to help him slip your panties off. You adopt a look of innocence at the coquettish glimmer of his eyes. Trade it for a shaky sigh when he blisters your sternum with kisses, honey slow, maddening. 

He sucks one of your nipples into his mouth. Tortures you, circling it with wet precision, and when you bow into him, he closes a hand around your muff, two devilish fingers curling inward to test the stickiness of your opening. 

You lose it when they slip inside, slow and teasing at first, before splitting you nice and open. And you feel so full, complete, as he presses in, knuckle-deep, the heel of his hand grinding against your clit. Curls, pistons, scissors his fingers, maneuvering his mouth to seal around your other nipple, never once releasing you from the smoldering fire of his gaze.

When you’re writhing and begging in fragmented moans—more, please—pulling at his shoulders, his back, and you’ve thoroughly saturated his hand with your essence, he grants you mercy. Withdraws his fingers from the hot suction of your cunt, bringing them to his mouth for a sample.

You bear down on yourself, throb, at the sight, burning hot. He chuckles, watching you, voice smoky as mountain air, before reaching down, down, down to palm the intimidating swell of his cock beneath his briefs. 

Pulling himself free, underwear kicked off, he strokes himself, his massive hand swallowing up the bulk of his cock, the flared, angry-red tip. Your stomach pinches. Mouth waters. You sit up on your elbows, desperate to feel him stretching your jaw. But he pushes you back down with a hand at your belly, a flash of a furrow between his brows before that playful mask returns.

“Later,” he croaks as if reading your thoughts. Sensing your desire to please, to take care of him, much like he’s spoiled you from the moment he asked you to dinner some months back as you pressed concealer and powder beneath his eyes, to now.

You’re drawn from the cloud of your thoughts with a strained sound pushed between gritted teeth, as Sylus rubs his shaft between your labia, coating it with your slick. He’s pushing into you before you can think, blisteringly hot, thick, splitting you nice and open, the obscene squelch of your union luring twin groans from your throats. 

His biceps flex as he pitches himself forward, balancing on his hands on either side of your shoulders. And he eases fully home after a few agonizing strokes, buried deep, teeth gritted, eyes hooded as if struggling to keep himself from fucking you raw into the glacial, marbled floor.

He searches your gaze for any signs of discomfort. Offers you an out, a means to push him away in case you don’t want this. You smile fondly, tangling your fingers in his hair to draw him down for a kiss. Always so considerate, seeking reassurance, consent, despite having spread you open like this countless times before.

He takes his time breaking you down on his cock to build you back up. And it’s blinding white. Transcendental, how you leave your skin, your body, Earth, as your orgasm sparkles through you after what feels like hours of moving as one, your nails digging waning moons into the backs of his forearms, heels locked in the divots of his back.

He kisses you honey-slow. Loving, leaning on his elbows as you come down, thumbs swiping stray tears from your cheeks, before rocking into your shuddering walls in search of his own release.

He carries you, all boneless and spent, smiling like a fool, to his bedroom once you’ve both had your fill. Curls around you in his bed like you’re his primary source of warmth, his treasure, chin notched in the dip of your shoulder, hair ticklish against your cheek. 

“Sleep,” he tenderly instructs, exhausted, enamored. 

And as if under his command, you slink below the shadowy surface, heralded there by the evenness of his breath and the rigid safety of his body melded to yours.

—

You’re not at all surprised when you awaken the next morning to a suspiciously familiar, towering silhouette with a black cap plastered all over every major social media app. “With his mysterious lady friend,” reads every caption, your face luckily shrouded by the shadows of your cap in each grainy photo.

You groan, tossing yourself against his pillows. He grins sheepishly in your periphery, a naked Adonis beside you, winding those long arms around you to draw you back against him.

“Sorry,” he ruefully offers, blistering your neck and shoulder with apologetic kisses. “I should’ve known someone would recognize me.”

You plaster a hand over your face. Try not to smile. To laugh. Cry. You knew it was only a matter of time before someone spotted you together, before the rumors started, though you’re grateful your face was at least hidden.

You shake your head, stroking over the protruding bone of his wrist with a soothing thumb.

For now, you’ll risk your anonymity—continue to risk your career—if only to remain by his side. 

[peachycocaine]

some ideas for you (if you want them) <3

brothers bff!thanos who has been secretly fucking you for years and is always threatening to tell on you two to your brother whenever you’re being a brat but you always beg him not to because you don’t want your little secret to end (and then of course you have to *thank him* for not telling)

or!

reader and thanos have an only fans and they keep getting recognized for it (whether that be in the games or just in public) and people always say gross stuff to you and it makes you sad :( (this could end up being smut or angst or fluff or any combo tbh)

or!

you’re broke and the only place you can afford to rent is a room in some dude named thanos’s house… the first few months are chill but he keeps stealing your undies (he’s not at all slick about it) and whenever he asks you to come watch shows with him in the living room he sticks his hand down your pants (never actually *doing* anything but just to show you that he can)… then finally you realize you’re not gonna be able to pay rent this month and he just smiles because there are other forms of payment :) (this one could be headcannons or an actual story)

Okay cuz why did these actually eat hello?? Thank u sm noonie i've been yearning for ideas!! i'll try to do all of these, no promises though might end up procrastinating :/

Sealed deal

Pairings: pervy landlord!thanos x fem!reader

Tw: p in v, unprotected sex (rmbr to wrap it before you tap it), dry humping, mentions of drug usage, language

You had been financially struggling for a long time, you didn't have a place of your own to stay at. Though your friend let you live with her for 2 weeks, she eventually told you she couldn't let you live with her any longer. And you understood that, you were living with her free of charge and she had to cover for your expenses. She had to buy twice the amount of food and the electricity and water bills would come in double the cost due to you living with her. She was also struggling and so she had to do what she had to do. You did have a job, which paid minimum wage. Seeing your condition your friend suggested that you could live with one of her friend's, but you'd have to pay monthly rent of course. At first you weren't very fond of the idea since her said friend was a male but it was the only one thing you could afford right now. You turned up her offer and moved in with her friend.

His appearance was questionable but you had no other choice than to adjust. he wasn't really living lavish but his financial status was above average, he made his money off of his meaningless raps. At first living with him was easy, he didn't really bother you since he was always too busy doing drugs or trying to come up with new rap lyrics or he'd just be outside with his friends. But after 2 or 3 months, you noticed that alot of your panties went missing. At first you shook it off thinking they got lost, but too many of them had gone missing. And ofcourse the culprit was the man that lived with you. He gave 0 fucks about hiding it too, you could walk into his bedroom and you'd find your panties laying on his bed. You just took them back without confronting him about it, trying to ignore the fact that the man you lived with and will be living with for a good while was a pervert.

As time went on, interactions between you two became more frequent. He'd ask you to join him on the couch at times, though you'd always hesitate before you went because everytime you did he'd sneak touches to your thighs or brush his arm against your tit and call it an accident. He'd shove his hands down your pants, letting it rest against your clothed pussy as he watched your shift uncomfortably, at times he'd press his palm harder against your core. You didn't really say anything, well, more like you couldn't because you knew if you protested against him he could kick you right out. You tolerated his panty stealing habit until you found one of your panties covered in some slimey substance. You instantly dropped it when you realized that slimey gooey substance was his cum. You wanted to get out of here as soon as possible but you knew you couldn't.

You spent half the money you earned from working your ass off on clothes and other necessities, forgetting to save some for rent. You realized you were short on rent money and panic set it. Maybe you could ask thanos to give you one more month and pay off your rent after you earn more, but you knew thanos wasn't that generous or sympathetic. Later that evening he approached you and you just stood there hoping he'd forgot about the rent. "Hey, y'know its time to pay up right? Come on" he sticks his hand out, expecting you to hand him money. You chew your lower lip before gathering up the courage to speak. "U-uhm right so.. im short on money right now but could you please just give me one more month? I promise i'll pay full by next month" you heart was thumping in your chest, waiting for his response. He just looked at you and gave you a smile. His expression was unreadable, you couldn't really tell if his smile meant a yes or no. He stepped closer to you, towering over you as he leaned in "it doesn't work that way senõrita, now does it?" His breath fanned over your ear before he stepped back. You started fiddling with your fingers, growing more and more anxious about what you could do.

"I don't have the money on me, i really cant do anything about that, you have to understand, please." You pleaded hoping he'd show some mercy and let it slide this time. He rubbed his chin acting like he was thinking "hmm.. you could do one thing though.." his tone suggestive. "A-and what could that be..?" You saw right through his intentions, you knew what kind of man he was. He scanned your body up and down, practically eye-fucking you. Your body tensed at the way he looked at you. "Come on, don't act all innocent doll. Y'know what im talking about." He smirked at you and you just bit your lip. You knew exactly what he meant, he wanted you to pay with your body and you knew he had you cornered. You bunched up your shirt in your fists and just simply nodded, giving him a greenlight to do whatever he wanted to you. He was quick to jump at you, you fell back and landed on the couch as he eagerly started kissing you, almost devouring you whole. You just laid there, letting it happen as he caged you in. His hands were roaming around your body eagerly, exploring your skin like theres no tomorrow. He roughly squeezed your breast as his mouth never left yours, you moaned into his mouth making him shove his tongue deeper down your throat. He pulled away from you, panting as a string of saliva connected your mouths. You looked anywhere but at him, not wanting to see his face as he took advantage of you. He cupped your cheek and made you look at him, his thumb tracing your bottom lip as he started grinding his bulge against your clothed sex.

"Do you feel that? Feel how hard you make me?" His voice was raspy and breathy as he rubbed his groin against your crotch. You tried supressing your moans by biting your lip, trying not to give him the enjoyment of this situation. He rolled his hips and you could feel his hard throbbing cock through his sweats and of course he wasn't wearing boxers. His movements came to a halt and he started pulling his sweats down. "Undress." It was a command not a question. You did as you were told and took off your clothes while he did the same.

You two were skin to skin now, his naked form on top of yours. He looked down at you, admiring every inch of your bare body. "Fuck i can't believe you've been hiding this gorgeous body of yours from me since months." He chuckled as he spread your thighs apart further and positioned himself between you. He ran his cock up and down your slit before tapping the head on your clit a few times, earning a moan from you. Your moan gave him a head start as he began pushing his tip in, resulting in you biting your fist. He was bigger than you thought and the stretch made you want to scream. You let out a pained whimper as he began slowly pushing each inch into your tight pussy, splitting you apart on his cock with each inch. He let out a groan as he bottomed down, he was kind enough to give you time to adjust before he began rocking his hips gently. You covered your mouth with your hand trying to stop the moans that were forcefully pulled out of your throat. You hated the fact that it felt so fucking good, his fat head grazing your G spot with each thrust. He cooed and peeled your hand away from your mouth "c'mon dont hide those moans from me now, i needa hear how good i make you feel" he said as he dipped his head down, planting rough kisses to your neck. He started thrusting his hips into you faster, his dick slammed in and out of you. Your hands instantly flew to his hair, tugging on it as he bit down on your neck. He marked your neck before licking the bite mark "look at you taking dick like a good girl" his breathing heavy as he pulled away from your neck to admire your face.

The way your lips parted and tears pricked your eyes made his cock throb inside you. He pulled all the way out till only his head was in before ramming his dick back into you, aggressively fucking his cock into you as he watched your tits bounce with each of his thrusts. The sight before him made him almost lose control and cum right then. He eagerly stuck his hand between the both of you and started messily rubbing your clit. He was eager to make you cum, he wanted you to cover his dick in your cum. Your back arched as your nails dug into his back as he began rubbing your clit. Feeling tension build up in your stomach, you felt yourself getting closer with each of his thrusts. He felt your walls spasm around his cock, noticing that you were about to cum "gonna make a mess all over my cock princess? Go ahead, cum on my fucking dick like the little whore you are" he lifted up one of your legs to get a better angle, his dick pounding into you deeper now. After a few thrusts, you came undone on his cock. Your body fell limp beneath him as he kept snapping his hips into yours. His hips stuttered as he came closer to release. With one swift thrust, he burried himself deep inside you. Painting your insides white with his cum.

He collapsed on top of you, both of you trying to catch your breaths. He pulled out his now soft dick, watching in awe as his cum gushed out of your used cunt. "Payment succesful"

[7-deadly-cats]

killing me softly | 17

K M S M A S T E R L I S T | <- P R E V I O U S | N E X T ->

✿ G E N R E ✿ she fell first, he fell harder | slice of life | drama

✿ P A I R I N G ✿ s1!rafe cameron x overthinking!reader (f)

✿ C O N T E N T W A R N I N G ✿ swearing, suggestive language & themes, hints at jjpope, jealousy and possessive rafe, tension and angst, FLUFF

✿ S U M M A R Y O F L A S T P A R T ✿ at bulk & bloom, rafe fought off suggestive thoughts while you two had some teasing back and forth. later at barry's pawn shop, he told you to stay in the car, but the silent treatment made him give in. inside, rafe got tense when he saw you and barry knew each other. it quickly became clear barry had the upper hand. while rafe was sent to the backroom, barry warned you not to trust him, which triggered a spiral: what if rafe only saw you as a dispensable toy? back in the car, rafe confronted you about barry threatening him, but your passive replies made things worse. frustrated, he eventually admitted he liked spending time with you and wasn’t trying to mess with your head but he still likes the idea of getting to bend you over. you explained how mixed signals make you anxious, and that you needed clarity to feel safe. after some back and forth, you both agreed this could be a friendship. when cara called, you asked rafe to drop you off. he hid his disappointment but offered to pick you up later, quietly worried that sarah might pull you away from him.

✿ W O R D C O U N T ✿ 10.6k+ (oopsie again)

✿ A / N ✿ whew. another super long-ass chapter. a lot is happening here, lots of jumping back and forth but i really wanted to squeeze it all in so i wouldn't need another "saturday" chapter. maybe this whole thing feels a little rushed (especially the very end, sorry for that) or floppy but i srsly wanted to finish it today so you guys wouldn't need to wait for another day but i guess it will have to do. anyway, I SCREAMED AND GIGGLED AT THE ENDING SO PLS LMK WHAT YOU GUYS THINK. enjoy <3

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

W E E K O N E // S A T U R D A Y 2 : 3 0 P M

You had literally just a few seconds between the moment Rafe dropped you off and the moment Cara immediately descended on you with Diggory and dragged you to the beach, where a group of energetic Pogues greeted you.

But in those few seconds? Your brain had already gone absolutely haywire and it was all Rafe, Rafe, Rafe, Rafe, Rafe.

Because holy fucking shit, today? Those not even three hours you'd spent with him? Jesus fucking Christ, that was—what—like, no seriously, what???

Just what. That summed it up pretty well.

Rafe, who'd shown up unannounced at your house to drop off your bag and had had lunch with your family. Rafe, who then willingly dragged you out to hang out (okay, under the pretense of sobering you up, but like, STILL). Rafe, who had almost gone for your throat in Barry’s pawn shop just for knowing Barry. Rafe, who'd actually tried to help pull you out of that goddamn spiral in your head. Rafe, who somehow had a shocking amount of patience for your absolutely deranged overthinking episode (seriously, you needed to tell Barry never to say shit like that again, even if he meant well).

FUCKING RAFE, who said he LIKED hanging out with you AND HOLY SHIT was down to sleep with you if you gave him the green light LIKE JESUS CHRIST I’M SORRY WHAT IS HAPPENING???

Just. Rafe.

Oh, and Rafe, who’d also offered to PICK YOU UP LATER LIKE GUYS WTF WHAT UNIVERSE ARE WE IN?! Because it sure as hell wasn’t the one you knew.

Some real life Marvel Multiverse Quantumjump shit must’ve gone down, because this? This day? THIS RIGHT HERE? RAFE!?!?!?!

Nope.

Just no. How? What?!?

This dude had turned your entire brain inside out with a single conversation like CAN WE JUMP BACK TO RAFE GENUINELY WANTING TO FUCK YOU LIKE HELLOOO??????

Like for real now. The fact that you’d even managed to finish that conversation? And without having a full-blown panic attack after what he'd admitted? Remarkable.

Because your brain hadn’t just short-circuit after that, it was shattered. LIKE YOUR FUCKING CRUSH BEING SEXUALLY ATTRACTED TO YOU I MEAN??

WHAT.

Nah, that hadn’t even been you in that conversation. No way. Your body must’ve switched to passive flight mode or autopilot or something because you, just a few days ago, would’ve freaked out so hard you'd have launched yourself into another dimension.

Oh. Hah. Funny. Apparently, you had.

Holy shit, seriously.

But again, you didn’t really get the chance to process any of that truly. No time to spiral, because one, your serotonin levels were sky-high just from how absurdly patient Rafe had been with you today—like, fuck, that alone had made you fall even harder for him.

And two, you’d barely managed to half-say goodbye to him when Cara was already there waiting with her terrier at the parking lot, pulling you into a hug with the biggest, smirkiest smile in the world.

And then she started absolutely blasting you with questions. First one being: “Did you make out?” followed by “What did you guys even do?”, “Why were you hanging out in the first place?”, and “How big is his dick?”

Uhm yeah, that didn’t exactly help your already overloaded brain.

You tried catching your breath after she let go of you with a, “Wait—did I just interrupt something between you two?”

You just shook your head with a smile. “Probably better that you called, otherwise I might’ve actually exploded.”

“Okay, now I seriously need to know what the fuck you two were up to,” she said, eyeing you like a dog begging for treats.

A tired chuckle escaped your lips. “I think we’ll need a separate meeting for that. Wouldn’t wanna keep your loverboy waiting.”

After a bit of back and forth with her saying “His ass can wait” and you insisting “Actually, I need the distraction,” she finally gave in and led you across the parking lot, over the dunes, to a shady little spot where probably the last people Rafe would want to see you with were waiting.

His sister and Pogues.

Well. Good thing you hadn’t been specific about who exactly you were meeting up with. And thank god he hadn’t asked. Otherwise, you probably would’ve had to listen to a whole speech about why you shouldn’t be hanging out with that kind of scum (let’s not forget, last week in Econ he'd said he’d rather shoot himself than hang out with a Pogue, so yeah, that said enough).

ANYWAY. Whew.

You had barely a millisecond to breathe before Cara threw you right into the next interaction.

“Tadaaa, everyone, meet Y/N,” Cara said with a dramatic hand flourish as you arrived at the shady spot.

With an awkward wave and a smiling “Hi,” you greeted the three girls lounging on towels under a sun umbrella, who all perked up with visible curiosity.

You recognized Kiara Carrera: She’d gone to Kildare Academy for a year, a grade below you, and also lived in the 8. Cleo Nash you vaguely remembered from bonfire parties. And of course, you knew Sarah, both from around and, well…from that little awkward encounter on Wednesday at Tannyhill.

All three of them eyed you curiously and with varying levels of friendliness. Sarah had that big warm smile she’d greeted you with the first time. Cleo looked like she could murder someone if she felt like it, but even her smile had something soft about it, like running your hand along the dull side of a blade.

Only Kiara seemed a little... you didn’t even know how to describe it. Not cold or distant, just... cautious.

“Hey,” Sarah said, patting the towel next to her. “Come sit down. Nice seeing you again.”

God, why did this feel so awkward? You were a year older than the three of them and yet, this was just... weirdly uncomfortable.

Still, you sat down cross-legged with an awkward, “Thanks, good to see you too,” as Cara plopped down beside you. And oh no, judging by the way all four of them were now staring at you…

You shot Cara a what-did-you-tell-them-about-me-and-Rafe look, and she just gave you an innocent little grin that said, Nothing, I swear.

In response, you shot her a telepathic I’m gonna kill you.

“I hope Rafe didn’t throw a fit when he dropped you off,” Sarah said with a smirk. “Actually, I’m kinda surprised he even let you come hang out with us.”

Kiara gave a wide-eyed Yep-nod.

Welp…

You chuckled awkwardly. “I kinda... didn’t tell him who'd be here.”

Sarah raised her brows, still smirking. “And he seriously didn’t kick you out?”

“No?” You blinked, an embarrassed smile tugging at your lips. “I mean... he even offered to pick me up later.”

Cara shrieked beside you (Kiara flinched with a “Shit”). “WHAT.”

Sarah chuckled. “Okay, now I’m even more surprised. He knows I hang out here all the time. Literally calls it the rat hole.”

Um…

“A lot of people hang out here,” Cleo said with a shrug.

Kiara scoffed. “It’s Rafe. Are we sure he’s not hiding behind some dune waiting to jump us?”

O-kay. What kind of picture did she have of him?

“More like he’s hiding to spy on the love of his life,” Cara said, and you immediately wanted to dig a hole in the sand and die inside it.

Cleo and Sarah chuckled. Only Kiara raised a brow, eyeing you in disbelief. “And you willingly hang out with him? Like, he’s not forcing you?”

“I... yeah, he’s...” you started, but honestly, what were you supposed to say? An idiot, an asshole, intense, a lot, a total dumbass. No, you said what you always said in situations like this. “Nice.”

Kiara blinked at you like you’d just announced World War Three. She curled her lips and furrowed her brows. “Are we talking about the same Rafe Cameron or...?”

“Kie,” Cleo muttered with an eye roll and a chuckle.

Kiara lifted her hands in mock innocence. “I’m just saying, ‘nice’ wouldn’t be my first choice of words to describe Rafe Cameron.” She raised her brows. “More like brazen or, I don’t know, ruthless. No offense, Sarah.”

“Nah, that sounds like my brother,” Sarah replied with a smile but then turned toward you again, eyes a little more curious now. “Okay, stupid question, but... have you two, y’know…?”

“God, Sarah,” Cleo groaned.

PLEASE.

Camerons clearly had a gene that made any situation instantly awkward.

With flushed cheeks, you shook your head and fidgeted with the strap of your bag in your lap. “Um... no.”

What did that even have to do with anything?

“Interesting,” was all Sarah said, a big grin on her face. “And you’re not, like, a witch or something?”

Literally what.

"Excuse me?" Cara raised her brows in mock offense and gestured at you with both hands. “Do you see that radiant aura? Of course he’s obsessed. No spell needed.”

“Okay, shouldn’t we be asking if he’s the one casting spells on her?” Kiara muttered, frowning. Then she turned to you directly. “I seriously can’t believe someone like you actually enjoys being around him.”

Somehow that was kind of offensive… but also weirdly sweet?

“Who’s hanging out with who?” A dripping, shirtless John B appeared by your little towel circle, surfboard tucked under his arm. A few steps behind him, JJ Maybank and Pope Heyward wandered up too, bumping shoulders and laughing about something.

Also: shirtless… and wet…

Jesus Christ.

“Y/N and Rafe,” Sarah said, glancing up at him with a sweet smile.

John B nodded with an Ahhhh expression like he already knew about it, like, ??? Then he looked at you with a smile and gave a casual wave. “Oh yeah, hey. And he’s not holding you at gunpoint for this?”

“Thank you,” Kiara said, pointing to John B.

“Wait, who’s holding who at gunpoint?” JJ dropped his surfboard in the sand next to you all and planted his hands on his hips. His gaze finally landed on you, eyebrows shooting up with a grin. “Wild day when two Kooks voluntarily show up in the Cut. What is this—the Purge?”

“Three, actually,” Cara said, giving him a cheeky look. “If you count Rafe.”

Now Pope was the one looking confused. “Rafe was here?”

“Not with us, dumbass,” Cleo said, then pointed at you. “With Y/N.”

Can someone just shoot me? Shotgun, sniper, I genuinely don’t care.

Pope turned to you, gave a slightly awkward smile and a little wave.

OMG A FELLOW SHY GUY.

You smiled back and gave him a small wave in return and wow, it didn’t even feel awkward. One fellow introvert was all it took to help you shake your own nervous energy.

“Yeah, we just haven’t figured out yet if Rafe put a spell on her or if it’s the other way around,” Kiara said. “My money’s on the first one.”

“Nah, I’m going with the second,” John B replied, with Cleo and Sarah nodding in agreement.

“How about he’s just smitten with her,” Cara said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

JJ squinted, tilting his head. “Mmm, not sure. Rafe’s nuts. Wouldn’t shock me if he’s doing some voodoo shit in his room.”

Okay, what was going on between Rafe and these people, like seriously?

Pope let out a scoff. “Don’t tell me you actually believe in witchcraft.”

“I believe in anything until I’m proven wrong,” JJ said with a shrug, gesturing to you. “And a nice girl willingly hanging out with Rafe?” He shook his head, lips curling. “That’s gotta be some supernatural stuff.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, amused. “Not sure about that.”

“Guys, it’s simple,” Cara said like she hadn’t just met these people three hours ago. “He’s just head over heels for her.”

OKAYYY, THAT’S ENOUGH.

You barely knew like 90% of the people here and this was not the first impression you wanted—hanging out with Rafe being your entire personality. You hadn’t even properly introduced yourself yet.

“Yeah, um… can we maybe just…” you said with a sheepish smile.

Kiara nodded. “Yes. Please.”

"I don’t know about you guys, but I could go for a snack," John B said, and everyone seemed to agree.

"Bob’s Iceshack?" JJ asked.

John B shut his eyes, lips escaping a delighted Mmmm. “You get me, bro.”

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

"So, why exactly did you want me to come here again?" you asked Cara, washing your hands in the restroom of Bob’s Iceshack.

After placing your orders at the beachside café, the others had already snagged a spot out on the wooden balcony, but you’d shot Cara a more-or-less telepathic signal (aka a gentle kick to the foot) that you needed a quick minute with her.

On the phone, she'd said she needed backup because of JJ but hadn’t said exactly why. And yeah, to be fair, Rafe was kind of right—what did Cara ever need backup for in a situation like that? Especially from you, of all people???

Especially when the sexual tension between her and JJ was practically leaking off the walls. All those two needed was a room and the rest would just... happen. Shit, they probably didn't even need that.

Cara furrowed her brows. "I’ve been thinking..."

Uh-oh. That could mean anything, from I’m becoming a nun to I’m buying a crocodile and starting a family of five. Today.

“Mmh-hmm,” you hummed, in that high-pitched danger incoming tone, pressing your lips together and raising your brows as you dried your hands.

Cara sighed. "Okay, JJ's cool. He’s really hot, funny, and also kinda got this soft side. Oh, and did I mention, he’s really hot."

You nodded. "Uh-huh, loud and clear."

"And like, I know I could end up in his bed tonight if I wanted to," she said, drying her hands too. "God, the things he could do to me... I’d let him explore every direction on the compass with me, like full-on—"

"Okay, too much information."

Cara wrinkled her nose. "But the thing is... I don’t know. Now that the opportunity is right there, like literally one move away..." She gave you a look like she’d just tasted something weird and couldn’t decide if she liked it. "...I kinda don’t want it anymore?"

Oh!

That’s...

Not surprising at all.

You let out an amused chuckle, which earned you a stunned look from Cara.

"What?" she asked, genuinely flabbergasted. "I’m serious. My whole body is screaming for this guy, but my head’s just like, ugh, I don’t know, it’s pulling in another direction." She widened her eyes. "I think I’m getting sick."

"Orrrr," you said with a big grin, "That other direction is called Topper Thornton."

Cara blinked.

You chuckled again. "I mean... it’s kinda obvious he likes you. And you like him too, judging by how close you two were last night."

"Trust me, I KNOW he likes me. I could see the little hearts in his eyes every time he looked at me," she said dryly. "But like... it’s Topper."

You laughed. "Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t you almost hook up with him a few weeks ago before he chickened out? And weren’t you the one always preaching how sweet and nice he is?"

Cara’s face twisted into a dramatic frown. "Yeah, I mean, he really is sweet. We texted forever last night, but—"

"Define forever?"

"7 a.m."

Jesus Christ.

"Girl. Connect the dots."

Cara made a tortured face. "Ughhh, I don’t wanna."

"Think of it this way," you said, chuckling. "Baddie and simp duo."

Cara burst into laughter, a soft pink tinting her cheeks. "Great. Now I just want him for the trope."

You both started laughing.

"So what now? Do I spend one night in JJ’s Wonderland and then circle back to Topper?" Cara asked, raising her brows, real frustration in her voice.

You shrugged. "I dunno. I support you either way. Just trust your gut."

"Girl, my gut’s telling me to ditch all men and marry you instead."

You scoffed. "Would be the easiest route."

"The smartest one," Cara corrected, then gave you a playful smile. "But I wouldn’t want to snatch Rafe’s future wife right from under his nose."

You made a tsk sound. "Pretty sure he doesn’t see it that way."

"Oh, I’m sure he does. I can already hear the wedding bells," Cara replied, clasping her hands together like she was already planning the ceremony.

Jesus. If she was already talking like this, she was going to absolutely lose her mind when you told her about today.

But honestly, you hadn’t even processed it yourself: Rafe Cameron being down to hook up with you? Like... let’s be real, you were probably never going to be ready to process that. So, for now, you just shoved it into a deep, deep mental box.

So instead, you just said, "Okay, we should really get back before everyone thinks we both have parallel diarrhea."

Cara raised a brow. "Girl, have you seen us together? They’re way more likely to think we’re making out in here."

"Oh, speaking of," you said, grabbing your bag and glancing at her. "Am I crazy or are JJ and Pope giving—"

"Yep."

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

"Hey, why aren’t we tagged?" JJ asked, genuinely offended, holding up his phone screen.

Sarah chuckled. "Because the picture’s only of our drinks."

"Cold," Pope said, and John B nodded in agreement.

"Y’all need to chill your balls," Cara said while filling a little water bowl for Dig. "Everyone knows you’re just the accessories to these hot baddies. No need to tag you separately."

All the girls chuckled in amusement.

"Ouch," John B said with a suppressed smile, giving JJ a pat on the shoulder. "Come on, man, clearly we’re not wanted here."

Sarah laughed, and Kiara nodded along.

"Pope is," Cara noted. "He’s the only one of you who hasn’t made me lose brain cells with the stuff he says."

And fucking Pope smiled all flustered and awkward and honestly, it was like looking into a mirror. "Trying my best."

"Whoa, nope, thanks," JJ said, grabbing Pope by the shoulders and pretending to pull him away from your group, narrowing his eyes at Cara. "Careful, man. Those are Kook compliments. Blink once and she’s got her claws in you like some Fury."

"Sounds like your wildest fantasy," Cara shot back, sipping her Corona.

Yep. She had clearly chosen to enter JJ’s Wonderland tonight.

"Geez, get a room," Kiara said, eyeing them in fake disgust.

JJ scoffed with a crooked grin. "Meh, maybe later," he said, then guided Pope away from the table by his shoulders.

"Alright, you girls have fun," John B said with a smile, giving Sarah’s shoulder a soft squeeze and planting a quick kiss on her cheek before heading down the stairs toward the beach.

God, those two were actual relationship goals. Each of them alone was already Golden Retriever energy, but together? Just... pls adopt me.

Cara clearly felt the same way. "Can you two please get married already?"

Alright, second time within minutes that Cara had brought up marriage. Like, at this point it was painfully obvious that Topper had her thinking about some things.

Sarah chuckled. "You wanna be a bridesmaid?"

Okay, real talk—how long had they known each other now? Two, maybe four hours at most? How the fuck were we already at personal wedding invites?

Cara’s friendship game? Not to be underestimated.

"Fuck yeah," she said with a nod. "I’ll be the damn church bench if I have to."

You all laughed.

"Honestly," Cleo said with a smirk, sipping on her passionfruit lemonade, "every time I saw you and Y/N, I thought you were typical Kook princesses." She chuckled. "Cara’s got the whole shiny blonde hair, heels at a beach party vibe, and she looks like she’d throw hands with a bitch given the right reason."

"Hey, I don’t need a reason," Cara chimed in, smiling proudly.

Cleo nodded, grinning. "Yeah, thanks for proving my point." Then she looked over at you, her smile deepening. "And you? Shit, you’ve got that Death Star stare, like you know something about me I don’t, plus this whole don’t-talk-to-me energy."

You smiled awkwardly. "Yeah... more like my awkward stare and help-I-have-social-anxiety please-don’t-talk-to-me energy."

"Yeah, that’s more accurate," Cara said, raising her brows at Cleo. "So, what you’re saying is: We give off major baddie vibes."

Cleo shrugged, amused. "That and cool girl vibes."

"These Kook-Pogue stereotypes are bullshit anyway," Kiara chimed in, making a face. "Just like there are bitchy Kooks, there are bitchy Pogues. And just like there are hardworking Pogues, there are hardworking Kooks too."

You immediately thought of your parents and nodded. "Guess it’s always easier to judge than to meet somewhere in the middle."

"Whoa, okay, people," Cleo said, laughing. "I wasn’t trying to throw stereotypes around. I just meant, yeah, that judging people by looks or whatever is stupid when you don’t even know them."

Your phone buzzed in your bag. While still half-listening to the conversation, you took a quick glance at the notification.

And your heart dropped.

Is this guy actually crazy?

"...all the patriarchy’s fault and—wait, where are you going?" Cara stopped mid political rant, eyeing you as you slung your bag over your shoulder.

Feeling your cheeks heat up like you’d just been caught doing something you shouldn’t, you gave an awkward smile. "Oh, I, um... I’m just gonna grab a water. Be right back."

Judging by their expressions, they all knew what was really going on, but they just nodded, giggling and stifling their smiles.

"Tell Rafe I said hi!" Sarah called after you.

Fucking Camerons, man.

Heart thundering in your chest, you thanked Bob for the glass of water and let your phone plop back into your bag.

Okay, so… like, sure, you and Rafe had gotten to some kind of mutual understanding earlier—basically that you enjoyed each other’s company—but holy hell, the fact that he wanted to pick you up just an hour after dropping you off?

Right. Three possible reasons here:

He didn’t like that you were hanging out with Sarah and Pogues, considering his weird dynamic with his sister and the general class war in his head.

Rafe Cameron was actually clingy with people he liked. At least in private. You had skimmed some of his chat with Kelce, and they seemed really close. And honestly? Last night after your balcony talk, he’d stayed glued to your side until the very end. Like—shit—he probably would’ve followed you into the bathroom if you hadn’t giggled and told him to play bouncer instead.

Barry had been right and Rafe was possessive. Okay, no, not like in a throw-you-into-a-psychological-horror-movie way. Not like a dog with a chew toy either. More like... a kid who couldn’t stand seeing his mom give the baby sibling more attention. Ugh, okay, gross metaphor. You weren’t his mom. But your brain wasn’t coming up with anything better right now.

So yeah. Option one seemed the most realistic, but your gut told you there was probably some truth in the other two as well. Otherwise, your brain wouldn’t have gone there in the first place.

God, where was that positive thinking system you’d come up with on Thursday?

Okay, let’s try that:

Maybe he just really likes spending time with me and he’s excited about the idea of having a new friend, so he’s just a little too eager to hang out again.

Ha. Yeah. Sure.

YES, SURE. DUDE. HELLO??? He literally said he liked you, that he enjoyed being around you, and that he was open to some kind of friendship.

Seriously, how much clearer did your brain need it spelled out? (Also, why did you hear this in Rafe’s voice—help.)

ANYWAY. Time to head back.

“Damn, that must’ve been some really good water you got there, judging by that smile,” Cleo said with a smirk as you returned to the table.

Sarah giggled. “Also took you quite a while for just water.”

“Can’t blame her,” Cara added, grinning. “That water’s got some very visible attributes we clearly don’t.”

Kiara sighed, half exasperated, half amused. “We’re never gonna pass the Bechdel test.”

Your cheeks burned as you sat back down, cradling your glass. “Yeah, sooo... I’m heading out around seven-thirty.”

“You and the water got a date?” Cleo raised her brows with a smirk.

Cara went one further. “You and the water better use protection.”

Your brows knit in hot-faced disbelief as Cleo and Sarah burst out laughing.

Kiara just curled her lips. “Blink three times if you need help.”

Jesus Christ.

“I—no,” you said, laughing in embarrassment. “He’s just picking me up and then I don’t know, probably driving me home.”

Cara rolled her eyes. “Sweetie, we all know damn well that’s not what’s gonna happen.”

“And if it is,” Cleo added, “he can turn his ass right back around. Taking you from us just to drop you at home? Disrespect.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” Kiara said dryly.

The way she always talked about him made you think there was some history there. Just... what kind?

“No,” Sarah said with a chuckle. “If that was his goal, he’d already be here. My brother doesn’t have the patience to wait for stuff like that.”

If you only knew.

“Okay, I appreciate you guys cheering this on—or well, not cheering, in Kiara’s case,” you added with a side-smile. “But honestly, this whole topic is frying my brain a little, so if we could shift the gears? That’d be amazing.”

Sarah smiled gently. “Sorry, we didn’t mean to push. It’s just, my brother never puts in effort with any girl. I mean, Wheezie’s kind of the exception, but other than that?” She shrugged. “He takes whatever falls into his lap. Anything more would be too much work. But with you? I don’t know.” She tilted her head, almost fascinated. “It’s like he’s chasing you. Even if he doesn’t realize it.”

“Duh.” Cara gestured toward you. “Have you seen her?”

Sarah chuckled. “Of course, Y/N’s gorgeous.” You could feel the heat crawl up your neck. “But I don’t think you guys realize how unusual it is for Rafe to spend time with a girl and not try to hook up with her. He’s never been into relationships. But now—"

“Oh—um, no. No.” You cut her off, laughing awkwardly and shaking your head like your life depended on it. “That’s not—like, no. This is more of a friendship thingy.”

They all looked at you. Deadpan.

Kiara was the first to speak, brows raised in disbelief. “Yeah, no, trust me. Rafe doesn’t do female friends.”

Sarah also shook her head, but before she could say anything, you raised your hands like you were waving off the whole convo. That tiny little sentence from Barry earlier had already sent you spiraling enough for one day. You didn’t need a rerun.

Especially not after you'd just talked things through with Rafe and nearly driven him to the brink of insanity.

“Please. Seriously, I appreciate your concern and support and everything, but I’m actually really okay with how things are right now,” you said with another nervous laugh. “I mean, I...who even says I’m interested in him like that?”

Another round of flat stares.

Yikes.

You eyed Cara, but she just raised her hands. “All I said was that Rafe dropped you off and you'd come to hang out with us.”

“A girl willingly sticking around to hang out with my brother?” Sarah said, feigning innocence. “I just put one and two together.”

“And girl, them numbers are loud,” Cleo added, clearly entertained.

Alright. If everyone already clocked that you had a crush on Rafe...how the hell had he not picked up on it yet?

Oh. Oh no. Or what if he had?

Jesus fucking Christ WHAT IF HE—

“Okay, I can literally see the gears turning in your head,” Cara said. "And the drinks are empty, so let’s go stretch our legs and hit the beach.”

And that was exactly why this queen was your bestie.

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

"Huh, you're leaving already?" JJ asked as you slung your bag over your shoulder. "Gotta hit the hay or what?"

You’d all regrouped with the guys back in the shady spot on the beach. And honestly? You’d just hung out, chatted, laughed, Cara, Cleo, and JJ had shared a joint, and it had actually been really fun.

They’d welcomed you right in, super chill and easygoing, and the dynamic between them all felt like a little mini family. It was kind of adorable.

But now it was almost 7:30 p.m. and well, you’d promised Rafe to dip at this time.

You smiled a bit awkwardly. “No, I just…” Am getting picked up by the guy you all seem to hate. “…I already had plans for tonight,” you decided to go with.

“It’s fine, you can say his name,” John B said, grinning as he took a sip of his beer. “He’s not, like, the Darth Vader.”

Cleo raised an eyebrow. “Wrong franchise, dude. You mean the Dark Lord.”

Everyone laughed in unison.

“Okay, okay,” Cara said. “We promised her we’d drop the subject.” She stood up and helped you to your feet. “Now chop chop, Cinderella’s got a carriage to catch.”

She gave you a tight squeeze goodbye, grinning wide, which of course triggered a whole wave of hugs.

First Sarah, who jumped up next and hugged you warmly with a “Have fun, see you soon,” then Cleo and Kie, who added a good-natured “Don’t let him get away with any crap,” and JJ, who patted your shoulder and told you, “Protection first, fun second,” and finally Pope and John B, who said, “Take care and we’ll probably see you tomorrow, yeah? You guys are coming, right?”

Oh right, the open-air movie night.

Cara nodded for both of you. “Absolutely.”

“Want us to pick you up?” John B offered.

“Uh-huh, we’ll sort that out tomorrow,” Cara said, already nudging you away from the group.

With one last smile and a wave, you turned and headed back over the dunes toward the parking lot where Rafe had dropped you off.

Whew. Another wild chapter of today officially crossed off the list.

Now that you actually had a moment to yourself—no one talking your ear off or asking about Rafe—you finally had time to think.

Except… you couldn’t.

No thoughts. Head empty.

No energy left whatsoever. And no, that wasn’t really the Pogues’ fault. God no, they were all basically drama-free, free-spirited serotonin boosters. But the day itself had just been a lot.

And your body? Still recovering from last night and probably processing the final fragments of your hangover.

And the worst and best part? No time to exhale, because Rafe was already there, waiting with his black Benz in the parking lot, the setting sun throwing golden glints off the sleek surface.

Only when you got to the passenger side did you catch your reflection and realize you were grinning like an absolute idiot.

Already hit my peak craziness today, can’t get any worse, you thought as you climbed into the car with a cheerful, “Hi.”

Fuck. Every single time, it hit you again. Those painfully blue eyes of his. Then the scent of his cologne, the now-familiar smell of his car, that slightly unbuttoned polo shirt, and—oh. He was wearing his hair in curtain bangs style again.

He’d had it like that this morning too, now that you thought about it. But you were only really noticing it now that your head was clear enough to focus.

“What’s with the smile?” he asked, raising an amused brow and turning down the volume on the Kendrick Lamar track playing through the speakers.

You shook your head, still smiling. “Nothing, it’s just…” You glanced at his hair. “Too lazy for the slick back today?”

Rafe scoffed and started the car. “Nah, just taking a girl’s advice.”

YOU. HE MEANT YOU. OMG.

No way. Had he actually taken your little compliment from last night to heart? When you'd said curtain bangs suited him more than his usual style?

For some reason, that made your heart race fast.

“You take advice?” you teased, trying to play it cool despite the adrenaline spike. “Wow. That’s a first.”

To your surprise, he didn’t laugh or clap back with something snarky. No, he actually furrowed his brow, let out a bitter scoff, and pulled out of the lot. “Looks like Sarah and her little loser friends are already rubbing off on you.”

You blinked. Was he serious right now?

“Yeah, well I was joking,” you replied flatly.

Rafe glanced at you for a second. There was something—hesitation, maybe—in his eyes. “Yeah, some really funny joke, hanging out with people like that.”

Okay. Seriously? Fuck. That.

You were not in the mood for this bullshit right now.

“Okay, wait no,” you said, turning your body to face him fully, “I don’t know what your problem is with them or your sister, as a matter of fact, but keep me out of it. And, just so we’re clear: I can hang out with whoever I want, regardless of how you feel about them. Plus, if you’re gearing up for some kind of confrontation or Pogues-are-scum lecture, let me out of the car right now. I’ll go back to said ‘losers.’” You made exaggerated air quotes.

“And also,” you raised your eyebrows, more amused than angry now, “did you seriously just call me a loser?”

Now it was Rafe who blinked, clearly thrown off, gripping the steering wheel tighter as he threw you a very dry side-eye.

And as good as it felt to have said all that, to shut him down before the confrontation even had a chance to erupt, part of you couldn’t help but hope he wouldn’t actually start a fight now.

Not now, not when things between you were going so well. When you were at the peak of your… getting-to-know-each-other-project-partner-acquaintanceship.

Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease don’t blow up now.

“Shit, do I look like someone who hangs out with losers?” he finally said, and although he sounded tense—like, tense enough to physically restrain himself from crashing the car—there was an amused undertone to his voice.

Translated from moody-Rafe-speak, that probably meant something like: You’re not a loser. I didn’t mean it like that.

You let out a breath, but your voice stayed firm. “Well, apparently I do. And clearly, that bothers you.”

“Shit, yeah, I mean, why are you hanging out with my sister?” he asked, shrugging in irritation. “That’s weird as fuck.”

You shook your head, already irritated. “And what exactly is so weird about that?”

That seemed to make him think for a second. Maybe you should piss him off more often, then he’d actually start using his brain.

“I don’t know, it just is, okay?” he snapped back, somehow sounding both soft and frustrated.

You just stared at him, completely deadpan. “Uh-huh.”

Rafe scoffed. “Don’t ‘uh-huh’ me.”

“Okay, you wanna know what’s weird?” you said, raising your brows and gesturing toward yourself. “Telling me who I can and can’t hang out with. That’s weird. You’re not my dad, you’re not my mom. And I don’t even take that kinda shit from them.”

Rafe furrowed his brows like you were the crazy one. “What the fuck are you talking about? I’m not telling you what to do, I’m questioning your judgment.”

“What fucking judgment?” you snapped back. “They’re just normal people. And one of them happens to be your own sister. How can you talk about her like that?”

And now the craziest part: Rafe was clearly tense and worked up. It was obvious he didn’t like that you’d hung out with Pogues today, that you got along with Sarah. Like, he wanted so badly to keep picking at you, to criticize you, throw some kind of blame your way.

But all he did was exhale sharply, clench his jaw tight, and mutter, “Shit. I’m not in the mood for this shit right now.”

Okay. Something was definitely off. Rafe Cameron… backing out of a confrontation? Nah. Universe must’ve glitched.

“No, I want to know why it bothers you,” you pushed, surprised by your own willingness to keep going, considering this was probably playing with fire. “I mean, I think your sister’s cool. Shouldn’t that… I don't know make you happy or something?”

Rafe scowled. “Fucking great, you two are besties now.”

Oh my God. This was starting to sound an awful lot like theory #3 from earlier: Rafe being lowkey possessive.

“Cara is my best friend,” you said calmly, though really, you were just trying to outsmart the spiral slowly forming in your head by faking some semblance of calm, “but yeah, Sarah’s probably a great friend, too.”

Rafe clenched his jaw so tight, you could see a vein popping in his neck. His chest rose and fell like he was trying hard—really hard—not to lose it.

But despite the tension, he looked a little lost, like he didn’t know what to say. Hesitant. Unsure. And somehow, that clawed at your chest. He’d been so patient with your spiral earlier, so maybe it was your turn to meet him halfway when he had his little moody episode.

“I’m just trying to understand why this is hitting a nerve,” you said softly. “I mean, Sarah seems really nice and kind to me. But maybe she’s different around you. Of course, that’s not really my place to—”

“She’s a greedy bitch, okay?” Rafe snapped, his tone almost hateful, eyes fixed on the road ahead with shocking intensity. Then he glanced at you—pure rage flickering in his eyes. “She sticks her curios nose into everything, always has to be faster, smarter, better than everyone else.” He shook his head, eyes darting forward again. “And everyone treats her like some fucking princess, like she’s royalty or some shit, just for batting her damn lashes. Even at home.”

His voice had taken on a dangerously sharp edge. Visibly agitated, he jabbed a finger at his own chest. “I’m the one driving Wheezie around. I’m the one who listens to Rose’s bullshit. I’m the one who’s always backing Dad. I’m the one who deserves the kind of shit Sarah gets handed for free. But no one fucking sees that. Everyone’s too blinded by her fake charm and smiles.”

His face, already twisted with emotion, looked almost pained with the bruise still visible on his cheek. “Every fucking person in my life she tries to turn against me or pull over to her side. Dad. Wheezie. Fucking Topper, once. And now you,” he said, gesturing to you in one swift, bitter motion. “And I’m so fucking sick of her always getting away with it.”

The frustration and bitterness that followed cracked in his voice. “Every time she’s about to fall, there’s always some fucker there to catch her.” His brows twitched, and then his eyes finally locked with yours—sharp, bitter, and frustrated. “And I’m just so fucking sick of being the only one who sees through her bullshit.”

You were stunned. Completely thrown off by the sheer weight of what had just spilled out of him. All the anger, the bitterness, the jealousy but underneath it all, what you really heard was desperation. Frustration. A fear of being left behind. And maybe a deep-rooted sense of not being good enough.

And if you had to guess… the root of it all wasn’t really Sarah.

It was Ward Cameron.

Because no matter how hard he tried to pin the blame on his sister, something about the way he spoke… it didn’t feel like she was the real issue.

You didn’t know what went on behind closed doors, of course, but your gut told you: His dad was the reason Rafe was like this.

The way he always talked about his dad, like Ward was some flawless, perfect man. The way Rafe instantly tensed whenever his father was even mentioned. The way he’d completely flipped into submissive mode when talking to a male authority figure—like your dad—calling him sir, being polite to the point it was almost… eerie.

And then, of course, the way he couldn’t hold a normal conversation without posturing, getting defensive, or misinterpreting every neutral word as an attack. Like he literally didn’t know how to express a single honest feeling.

Like that had to be the result of some kind of suppressed trauma.

And this? Rafe voicing his frustration out loud? To you?

That made your heart ache for this angry, wounded boy who maybe wasn’t so stupid after all. Just bitter. And broken.

And as much as you wanted to tell him that Sarah wasn’t the real problem, that he needed to take a long, hard look at his dad, open his damn eyes—it would’ve been pointless.

His hate, his bitterness toward Sarah ran deep. Too deep for you to reach right now.

So you tried a different approach.

Because what he really seemed to ache for was to feel seen. Maybe the only thing you could do right now was acknowledge that.

“If I’d rather hang out with Sarah, I wouldn’t be here right now,” you said softly, heart pounding so loud it nearly drowned your own words.

Rafe's brows twitched like he was weighing the truth in your words, but then he shook his head bitterly, eyes fixed on the slowly darkening road. "You don't fucking get it. That invite to her stupid little hangout was just the start of her bullshit. She always gets what she wants, eventually." He scoffed. "You already jumped at the first chance she gave you."

Let's add Theory #4: Rafe being scared of abandonment.

You fidgeted with your fingers in your lap, taking a slow breath in. This wasn’t just playing with fire—this felt like walking across a paper-thin glass dome, already cracking beneath your feet, threatening to shatter and drag you down at any second.

"But Sarah wasn’t the one who called me or asked me to come," you reminded him softly. "Cara wanted me there. She needed advice about JJ. If she hadn’t needed my help, I wouldn’t have asked you to drop me off." A small, almost amused chuckle slipped from your lips. “Not after driving you this close to insanity.”

That seemed to ease some of the tension in his body.

With a stern look, he muttered, "She's chasing fucking Maybank? Of all the shitty-ass Pogue rats, she chooses him?"

You laughed at the dry amusement in his tone and how quickly his demeanor had shifted. "Yeah, but I doubt it'll turn into a long-term thingy. Topper kinda flipped all her principles upside down."

Rafe didn’t respond. He just kept staring ahead, a stormy mix of exhaustion, confusion, and frustration in his eyes.

It was strange seeing him shut down like this, considering he was always the one with the cocky remarks and sharp comebacks. But right now? He felt like a wolf shedding his skin to reveal the sheep underneath.

“If what’s got you scared is—” you started, but he cut you off immediately.

"I'm not fucking scared, alright?" he snapped. "I’m just not in the mood to waste my fucking time on someone who’s already dancing to Sarah’s tune."

In other words: he was scared.

You eyed his harsh profile, your gaze soft. “Okay, but I don’t get why you'd even think that. I mean, I’m here, aren’t I?”

“The fuck do I know,” Rafe muttered, voice tinged with visible frustration. “Why’d you stay over there then, huh? Or did Sarah send you to spy on me?”

Paranoid too. Fantastic.

An amused smile tugged at your lips. “Well, for starters, Cara was there, and I’d already promised her we’d hang out today anyway. So I figured I might as well knock that out." You toyed with the strap of your bag. “And, even if you don’t want to hear it—or won’t get it—I actually thought the people there were… nice. Welcoming even. To me, at least.”

Rafe looked about two seconds away from pulling over and kicking you out of the car, so you hurried on: “But as friendly as they were… they’re also a lot. Like, imagine a room full of Caras, Kelces, and Toppers all at once,” you said with a soft chuckle. “Sure, it’s fun in small doses. But for someone like me? That's exhausting.”

The car came to a stop at a red light, but Rafe didn’t meet your gaze—just kept staring straight ahead, uncertainty written all over his face. A heavy silence settled in the car.

"And this right here?" you continued, your voice suddenly quiet. "This is like a welcome escape."

Only the soft hum of the engine and the loud pounding of your heart filled the air as you waited for his reply.

The light turned green, casting a glow across the car’s hood but Rafe didn’t move the car. In the side mirror you only spotted an empty road behind you.

Rafe's eyes finally met yours, and for some reason, with that bruise on his face and the exhaustion in his gaze, he looked wrecked. Completely worn down, like he didn’t even have the energy to snap back.

“See, that’s the thing,” he said flatly, his usual fire missing. He gestured vaguely to his chest. “I don’t want the doll Sarah tosses away after she breaks it.”

That sounded a hell of a lot like I’m sick of being everyone’s second choice.

Jesus. This boy had issues so deeply tangled it made your chest ache. All you wanted in that moment was to hug him.

“Good thing I’m not a doll, then,” you said with a soft chuckle. “And maybe I worded that badly. I didn’t mean it like I’m just using this,”you motioned between the two of you,“as some kind of doormat.”

You tilted your head slightly, tapping your finger against your temple as the light turned red again. “That would be a shitty move, especially considering I recently just mentally added you to my friend book today.”

And just like that, the hard edge in Rafe’s face melted. His crooked smile crept back, and the heavy storm cloud hanging over you both finally drifted on. “Shit, you actually did that?”

Was that really all he needed? A little acknowledgment? Some reassurance? It was almost like you both carried the same core issues, just rooted differently.

You smiled wide and shrugged. “Your folder idea wasn’t bad not gonna lie, but that felt a bit too impersonal for me.”

Rafe scoffed, amused, and god, your heart flipped at that familiar sound. “Thinking about it, maybe Sarah can have you,” he said with a lopsided grin. “Your crazy ass would fit right into her fucked-up group.”

A laugh burst from your lips. “You can still turn around.”

His brows twitched, a flicker of irritation in his eyes.

Oh god—no way he thought you actually meant that.

So you quickly added, “But I’d much rather stay here.”

Rafe held your gaze for a moment, his expression still harsh, but the green traffic light seemed to soften the sharp lines of his face at just the right angles.

Funny enough, he actually did remind you of a Doberman—sharp, alert, a little intimidating, but really just an anxious soul underneath.

A loud, grating honk made both of you jump.

“Holy shit,” you laughed, startled, pressing a hand to your chest.

Rafe glanced up at the rearview mirror, scowling. “Fucking Pogue in his shitty-ass truck.”

“Just drive, please,” you said, half-nervous, half-amused, glancing through the rear window. “That guy actually does not look friendly.”

Rafe let out an amused breath as he finally started moving the Benz. "Guess there’s still a little bit of reason left in that crazy head of yours."

And just like that, the energy between you two was back to normal. Or, well—as normal as it could be, considering neither of you was exactly normal. You had a full-blown overthinking-spiral problem, while Rafe... yeah, let’s not even try to unpack those issues.

Still, that one moment where he’d let out some of his frustration—even if it had been aimed at his poor sister—only made the pull you already felt toward him even stronger.

It was like, every day, he peeled back another layer of himself. Compared to the beginning of the week? Holy fuck, that was a completely different ball game.

Where you’d been anxious as hell just riding shotgun to Kelce’s place on Tuesday, now you felt this calm, this ease around him. Rafe had started out as nothing more than an intimidating crush but now? He was just a guy, carrying way too much unprocessed shit, trying to bottle it up in public.

And despite the absolute oceans of differences between the two of you, despite constantly arguing, snapping at each other, and testing each other’s patience daily—somehow, it worked.

He shut down your overthinking, and you drove him fucking insane. Nah, just kidding. (Actually… not really.) You helped him be real, humbled his cocky ass now and then.

And maybe that’s why this weird project-partner-acquaintance-kinda-friends-now-ship was working for both of you.

OKAY GIRL, that’s enough thinking for today, damn. Just chill out already.

And you did.

The sun had finally dipped below the horizon, letting the moon and stars take center stage. Rafe was just cruising around the Outer Banks without any real plan. Kendrick Lamar and J. Cole played in the background, and at some point he even tossed you his phone to pick songs yourself. You caught him tapping his finger to the beat of Tame Impala and Suki Waterhouse, even though he had the audacity to call it “depressed emo girl music.”

Other than that, the two of you just vibed. Rafe bitched about Kelce and Topper, you both talked shit about Chris Reid and Ruthie, and you rambled on about some design ideas for your school project and how to execute them in collage form, until Rafe had had enough of the school talk and, surprisingly, steered the convo back toward your little beach hangout earlier.

You could tell he was physically restraining himself from crashing out, but he still nodded, showed some (fake) genuine interest, and only threw in a couple minor passive-aggressive comments.

Another small win.

Around ten, you both got the munchies. After going back and forth way too long, you finally insisted on McDonalds.

Rafe nearly cried (no joke) as he squeezed his massive Benz into the way-too-narrow drive-thru lane. Then he almost had a full-blown breakdown when the cashier handed him your milkshake without a lid—because God forbid his precious seats got dirty. Luckily, the lady was kind enough to give him one before the panic attack fully set in.

And once you were in the car? He opened every window and door to eat—because, apparently, the fabric seats were at risk of absorbing “that garbage smell.”

Jesus Christ, this guy was a drama queen.

“You know,” you said, laughing as you daintily picked up a fry, still not over the fact that he actually paid for your order too, “we could’ve just eaten inside.”

Rafe just scoffed as he layered, like, seven hundred napkins across his lap. “It’s bad enough I even showed up here. No way in hell I’m letting anyone see me inside that cracked-out hellhole.”

You seriously doubted anyone gave a single fuck that Rafe Cameron was picking up 9-piece nuggets and a Big Mac meal on a Saturday night at McDonald’s, but sure—let’s not ruin his illusion.

He then frantically gathered every single piece of trash and had you throw it out so no one would catch him in the act.

Then the car just sat there, windows wide open, for ten whole minutes to “air out the cursed stench,” before he finally drove off again.

About an hour later, around 11, a heavy wave of sleepiness hit you. You’d barely slept the night before and had spent half the day with a lingering hangover. Tomorrow, you at least wanted to feel like a semi-functional human.

So yeah, you decided to call it a day.

Rafe looked mildly offended, but truth be told, he seemed ready to pass out too. That didn’t stop him from taking the longest, most unnecessary detour ever (clingy Rafe confirmed) before finally pulling into your parents’ driveway half an hour later.

“Thanks for the ride. And the food,” you said when the engine shut off and everything went quiet.

Rafe let out a breath, half amused. “Pretty sure you can’t even legally call that crap food.”

“You sure didn’t hesitate with those nuggets, though,” you teased, smiling.

“Protein,” was all he mumbled in response.

You laughed softly. “Sure.” Then unbuckled and slung your bag over your shoulder. “Okay, well... uh... I guess I’ll...” OH GOD WHAT WERE YOU SUPPOSED TO SAY.

Last night you’d been absolutely wasted so you hadn’t given a single shit, but now??? Awkward silence GO.

“Wait, I’ll get the door,” Rafe mumbled, unbuckling too. “Don’t want your dad kicking my ass because I didn’t open it for you.”

You looked at him in disbelief, amused. “He’s definitely already asleep.”

Rafe opened his door with a frown. “Not risking another fucking bruise.”

You felt this weird, fluttery feeling in your chest and stomach as he walked over to your side and actually opened the door for you. Clutching your bag strap, you got out with a quiet, “Thanks.”

With a soft thud, Rafe shut the car door behind you.

“So,” Rafe said flatly, “do I have a sniper’s red dot on my forehead yet?”

You chuckled. “He was a combat medic, not a sniper.”

“And now chief physician,” Rafe said deadpan. “Pretty sure he’s got some shady connections and could get my doctor to prescribe me something lethal.”

You laughed again. “Alright, I better head inside before you start spouting more half-asleep conspiracy theories.”

“I’m wide awake,” he chuckled. “You need me to walk you to the door or you got this?”

You glanced at the door and nodded, your brows furrowed. “Dunno, what if some Pogue’s lurking behind the bushes?”

Rafe let out a dry “Fucking hilarious,” and then PUT HIS HAND ON YOUR BACK TO GENTLY STEER YOU TOWARD THE DOOR.

ALARM ALARM ALARM ALARM.

Exactly six steps later, he dropped his hand. “I’m not tucking you in though,” he said, and of course added with a crooked grin, “Unless you’re scared of sleeping alone.”

UM. HELPPPPPPPPPP.

A half-embarrassed, half-anxious laugh escaped your throat, your chest and neck heating up, and you shook your head. “I think I’ll manage, thanks.”

“Aight,” he said. And then—something shifted in his usual cocky posture. It could almost be interpreted as hesitation. Or nerves.

Okay, guess you had to say something now.

“You’ve got something on your mind,” you said, amused.

“Nah, I just…” He scratched his chin, his face twisting into a grimace. “I went to the gas station earlier after I dropped you off. Had to fill up my car.”

You nodded. “Sounds like something you’d do at a gas station.”

Rafe let out a shaky breath, followed by a “No shit, smartass,” the corner of his mouth twitching up in the faintest smile. “Okay, I just—when I was at the checkout, you know how they always have those shelves full of random dumb crap?”

“Gas station core,” you replied deadpan, trying to mask the way your nerves were absolutely going crazy, BECAUSE RAFE BEING NERVOUS ONLY MADE YOU TEN TIMES MORE NERVOUS.

Rafe looked at you with furrowed brows. “Yeah, and they had that dumb horse merch, that—what’s it called, that damn cartoon?”

“My Little Pony?”

He nodded impatiently. “Yeah, maybe. Whatever.” His hand slipped into his pocket. Then he pulled out a palm-sized yellow-pink plastic bag. “Anyway, figured your fucked-up brain might need this. All that stuff you said earlier about needing clarity and shit like that.”

He held it out to you, a smile on his face that didn’t quite match his usual cockiness. “Didn’t craft it myself though, but guess it’ll do.”

[system shutting down, please consider doing a backup]

…

DBJKHKSUEGFBVMLCDMCDJVGFSDWODJFDNCJKFLSÖ;XNAAGHDFSMDS;KMKSXKDWHATWHATWHATWHATWHAT

WHAT.

Your heart was pounding, nerves threatening to explode, adrenaline ready to hand you a goddamn stroke.

THIS. OH MY FUCKING GOD.

You probably looked like a complete idiot—lips slightly parted, eyes wide, just straight up staring at the thing in his hand.

You had no idea what to say or do. Despite the crooked smile on his face, Rafe looked way too serious for this to be a joke.

“Shit, take it already. I can see the minions in your head running around in panic,” he said and basically forced the bag into your hands.

You took it and stared, baffled. A smiley Fluttershy was printed on the front, surrounded by pastel pink hearts and yellow stars. And right under the big-ass MLP logo, in bold letters, it said: “Friendship Bracelet for the Fluttershy in your life.”

SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP EXPLODING DYING REBOOTING.

MENTALLY JUMPING OFF A CLIFF.

Actually physically vibrating.

Okay. Okay. You needed to get a grip before you actually combusted or—holy shit—started crying for absolutely no reason.

Your eyes met his again, adrenaline surging through every damn corner of your body. “That’s... I don’t even... thank you, that’s really sweet.”

“Jesus, please don’t thank me for spending money on that shit,” he scoffed, stepping closer, his finger tapping the plastic. “And look, it says ‘friendship bracelet’. Not ‘I’m-trying-to-get-in-your-pants-or-use-you-for-a-hookup bracelet’.”

His intense blue eyes locked onto yours, and holy shit HE WAS CLOSE CLOSE. He tapped his own head. “That clear enough for your crazy brain? Or is there still some stupid little minion in there running his mouth? ‘Cause if so, I’ll knock the little shit out myself.”

Even though you were massively taken aback by this incredibly and unexpectedly sweet gesture, you somehow managed a laugh. “No, I think that should do it.”

Rafe let out a strained breath. “Jesus Christ. Fucking finally.”

You smiled, cheeks hot. “Where’s yours?”

“What?”

“Your bracelet,” you said, amused at his baffled expression. “Friendship bracelets only make sense if both people wear them.”

Rafe gave you a blank stare. “Shit. Wait, what? You actually wanna wear that?”

“Yeah, why not?” you chuckled. “You bought it for me, might as well put it to use.”

Rafe scoffed. “That crap didn’t even cost five dollars.”

“And?”

“And it was clearly just meant to make a point. Didn’t actually expect you wanting to wear that shit."

“Okay well, let me at least see what it looks like,” you said, tearing the little bag open.

And—holy shit.

You’d expected some hideous, oversaturated, cringey kid bracelet with plastic hearts and cursed Fluttershy charms but this was actually ridiculously cute. And definitely not sized for a child’s wrist.

A silver chain with pastel-colored hearts, flowers, and beads dangled between little silver charms: a butterfly, a key—OH MY GOD.

“It’s cute,” you said, grinning as you looked at him. “I like it.”

Rafe scowled dramatically, raising a brow. “Lemme guess, you want me to put it on for you.”

DKFJHSDHFBVJDLNSKADNVJSDFKLS YES PLEASE.

“That’d be nice,” you said quietly, handing him the bracelet.

You held out your arm, and Rafe stepped even closer, wrapping the bracelet around your wrist from underneath. His fingers brushed against your skin as he clumsily fumbled with the clasp, his expression focused like he was defusing a bomb.

You couldn’t even laugh at how badly he was struggling with a literal children’s bracelet because your heart was pounding so loud, your breathing had basically stopped because you could feel his warm breath on your wrist.

“Fucking hell, what is this shitty-ass clasp,” he muttered, brows pulled together in frustration. But finally he managed to close it, letting out a breath like he’d just survived a 24-hour brain surgery.

“Thanks,” you said as he stepped back, your eyes dropping to the bracelet and the tiny little charms dangling from it. You were smiling like an idiot. “It’s actually really pretty.”

Rafe looked at you like he was now absolutely convinced you belonged in the ‘mentally unstable’ section. “Shit, well, I guess as long as it spares me from another long-ass conversation.”

You let out a soft chuckle. “Maybe on that topic, but I can’t make any promises in general.”

“Aight,” he said, making a hush motion with his hand. “Better get inside before I regret buying that crap.”

“Okay,” you said, probably still grinning like a dumb idiot. And then—you took a step forward, courage powered by a serotonin overdose, and hoped to EVERYTHING ABOVE he would catch the signal and not turn this into the most awkward goodbye of your life.

AND HE GOT IT.

Rafe stepped forward too, immediately wrapping his arms around you. Your own found their way around his neck. The little bracelet jingled between you, and you actually giggled like a total idiot because of this. This was everything and more.

His warm body pressed against yours, the scent of his cologne, his hand rubbing slow circles on your back—SJDHAKJDHKDJWH.

When you both pulled away, you were smiling at each other like two hopelessly dumb idiots. And of course, this dumb idiot in particular had to ruin it with some stupid comment.

Rafe nodded toward your wrist. “Try not to think about me when you—”

“Mh-hm, good night.”

He laughed, boyish and smug. “Aight. Sweet dreams.”

With that, he turned around, and you let out the most tension-filled breath of your entire life. Because what. the actual. fuck. Like--

“Oh, and you’re coming tomorrow, right?”

You looked up while digging for your keys. “What?”

“That shitty-ass open air thing,” Rafe said. “Topper’s driving, so you can get wasted again if you want.”

Oh. Now it was fine that you were riding with Topper? This guy made zero sense.

“Um, yeah... can we discuss that tomorrow?” you asked with a sheepish smile. “I still have to check in with Cara.”

Rafe’s brows twitched, but he nodded.

You exchanged one last round of goodnights, and finally—finally—you made it into your house. Without overthinking, you went straight to your room, shut the door, and collapsed onto your bed with the biggest motherfucking grin on your face.

And without even letting yourself process what kind of batshit insane day this had been, you knew you had to text Cara. Or rather, send a voice memo. And then tomorrow morning you’d have to suffer through like a thousand delusional, chaotic messages in response.

But when you opened your messaging app, a final (hopefully final) surprise of the day was already waiting for you.

You sighed, now LITERALLY completely finished for today. But just as you were about to switch your phone to airplane mode and get ready for bed—this:

You immediately put your phone into airplane mode, shut that thing off and tossed it onto your nightstand. Then you quickly got into your pyjama set, brushed your teeth and hurried back into bed.

Tucking yourself comfortably into the blankets, you force-shut your eyes and tried to ignore your thundering heart.

Your head was FULL. Like it had reached maximum capacity and workload today. AND NOW RAFE WAS BACK AGAIN WITH HIS CHEEKY LITTLE MESSAGES AND THAT CRAZILY GOOD LOOKING MIRROR SELFIE, GOOD HEAVENS HELP ME.

And that after he'd claimed--

NOPE. NO SPIRALING NOW. No overthinking, no questioning, no coming up with theories.

Absolutely not.

Rafe’s a flirty guy. He literally said so himself. And he was right, flirting didn't have to lead to anything. Plus, he just gifted you a freaking friendship bracelet like twenty minutes ago. So you’re not going to ruin your happy little bubble again.

That’s it for today. Tomorrow you’ll have plenty of time for unnecessary mental gymnastics and whatnot.

Brain, shut up now. Good night.

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

EXTRA SCENE rafe buying reader the bracelet at the gas station

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

K M S M A S T E R L I S T | <- P R E V I O U S | N E X T ->

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

T A G L I S T F O R M (taglist for this series is CLOSED but you can sign up for my other stuff through this link)

@ursogorgeous13 @my-name-is-baby @moneybaby07 @jjasmiineee @sttaejoon-blog @vogueprincess @princesspeaxhh @wtfisastiles @wefelldowntherabbithole13 @rafes4 @kathryn-maraudersversion @wuluhwuhmaster @torturedtypewritersdept @sfotiegiuls @ltristessedureratoujours @stoned-writer @lunaleah @akobx @cokewithcameron @b00klvrs @rafesdrew @mattyskies @yktayy9669 @beabafreakbee @c1gsafterwhat @drewstarkeyswife-7 @wtfdudesblog @akobx @wintercrows @miaaaoa @setmefreemyg @pogueprincesa @chimchimjiminie16 @drewstarkeysrightarm @wtfdudesblog @wolfstarsimpxx @emmiesummers @brycesfav @ayy1234567 @rgeraldg @stanseventeen @louvrgirl @chaoticromantic @drewstarkeysrealwife @drewstarkeyswifehoe @psychicnatural @mysticbby2009 @oreocheescake-12 @miniiminie @drunkinthemiddleoftheday @drewstarkeyywife @persiar9

[rieaj]

“i love you, but that dick is a plus.” ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧⋆

———

who in enha has the biggest dick? (hyung line only)

warnings: enha hyung line x reader (seperate !!), smut, unprotected sex, blowjobs, missionary, p in v, talks about dick sizes, dacryphilia, mdni !!

others: enjoy this for now, cause ive been losing motiv for a couple if days cs its been hectic asf 😭 ill post more content soon. but for now this is enough to feed y’all’s horny selves 🫶

———

lee heeseung. this man 😖. he’s big alright. 6’0ft tall he’s got big hands, feet, etc. meaning to say he’s got a big dick too. 8 inches when soft, 9 1/2 when hard. i feel like he wouldn’t be as thick as jay or jake. but this man is for sure long. i also bet he and jay would have big balls. he’d prolbably have shaved hairs that were slightly the same as sunghoon’s not too hairy or too shaved down. heeseung is the type to love blowjobs. sucking down on his long cock, just to have him push your head just to hear your whimper and gags. he’d like to fuck you in missionary just to watch his cock slowly go in and out of you whilst watching your teary eyed face.

park jay. he’s thick for sure. 7 inch when soft, 8 1/2 when hard. thick girth and a mushroom tip that would be an angry red type of color. the base would be a little tanner than his skin, and for his hair, i bet he shaves it every 2 weeks max. its neat and not so hairy. gotta be clean to satisfy his girl (>.<) jay would also be the type to be the softest and most loving in bed. he loves reassuring you and talking you through it. this man would also have the best aftercare. jay could also go rough and hard, only if he would be in a bad mood or jealous. (we’ll discuss this soon !) overall, jay just has big dick.

sim jake. thickest. 7 1/2 inches when soft, 8 when hard. jake isn’t exactly the longest. but he beats them in girth. he’s a thick boy. even just the tip inside your already stretched out so wide. his base color would be a little darker than his skin tone. he has a big tip that whenever he was hard it would be such an angry pink and constantly leak pre-cum. jake would not have any hairs at all. poor baby always feels so guilty whenever he sees you in tears as soon as an inch of his dick stretches you out. always shushing you and reassuring that the pain would be gone.

park sunghoon. i feel like he would be the biggest. a positive, 8 1/2 inch when soft. a solid 9 when hard. sunghoon would most like be the one to know his dick the best, and also use it correctly. his dick is girthy with a usual peachy color on his tip. the base color would be a the same color as his usual skin, and he would most likely have a neat shave, something like the hair still being there but at the same time it’s not too bushy. sunghoon would also have some best dick game. there is never a time you won’t be pleasured after being with him. he would also most likely HATE wearing condoms. unless that is, you want him to. anything for his girl <3 but for me i think he wouldn’t really like it cs he wants you to feel every inch and vein of him pulse inside you :0

———

yall ive been busy this is all i could come up w rn. its not my best work, but ive just been too lazy. i’ll do better soon 😞

[just-a-sweet-girl]

Hi! Can I have maybe a head canons or scenarios request for Dante (DMC 5 and Netflix version) with a fem s/o who's loyal towards him and very caring towards him.

As if the reader would do everything they can to make him happy and show how they love him or cared for him. What would both versions react about this?

I don't just write for Dante, yall can send in requests of Vergil, or V or Nero >3

Thank you for this, it's so cuuuute

DMC5 Dante absolutely loves it.

♡ His s/o is a morning person. Always up before him unless he hadn't went to sleep in the first place, or he makes her sleep in with him. She'll show her love to him with acts of kindness.

♡ Keeping the place clean is one of them. Dante knows not to dirty something reader has cleaned unless he wants to be the one to reclean it. One time, he had to mop the whole place from stepping in with mud.

♡ By the end of that day, the two of you were dancing to the music you had playing to help motivate him. The floor didn't get clean, but that was okay. A memory with Dante that's filled with smiles and laughter, shared kisses... that meant more.

♡ Definitely has a habit of showering him with kisses on the daily. Doesn't matter what he is doing - as long as their are safe - she'll walk up to him, cup his scruffy face in her hands and pepper kisses all over his face. Each time saying something so tooth rotting sweet.

"handsome," kiss "strong" kiss "you always do such a good job" kiss "I love you."

♡ Surprises him with strawberry sundaes. And most of you money goes to pizza - but that's fine. You're not the one in debt.

♡ What really gets him is when he's noticed how nothings went out yet. Electricity, his water, it's all still on even though he knows he hasn't paid it in months. Tries to ask Morrison about it, but all he gets is, "You have someone who cares, Dante."

♡ Shaving. He doesn't do it often, since how fast it grows back. But when he does shave - you're more than happy to do it for him. Settling upon his lap with the cutest expression of focus as she is careful with shaving him. When done, she can't help but to rub her check with his affectionately. Reminding him of a cat.

♡ You practically do everything for him, it's how you show your love. But don't get it wrong, Dante tries his best to show you that kind of love in return. Except, his comes in the way he practically worships you.

2025 Dante doesn't feel like he deserves it.

♡ His S/0 is someone he's known for a long time. Having started out as friends until he decided he would try. Just for her. He's scared to become attached to anyone, and this shows whenever he subconsciously pulls away from you.

♡ You're patient though. And with every action you do, you make sure to poor every ounce of care and love into it. Making him know he is truly loved.

♡ Not a hunter, but you're not defenseless. For from it. When his s/o has discovered what he does, she spent the whole night learning what she could from him. Every now and then, you'll try to sneak up on him, but he always knows it's you.

His hands automatically gripped beneath your thighs when you jumped on his back. Hands covering over his eyes as you tried to change your voice, failing. "I'm robbing you!"

The silliest grin appears on his face. "Oh, yeah? What're you taking then, pretty?"

You groan, before smiling. Removing your hands and leaning more over his shoulder. Hands cupping his face. You declare, "You're heart!" before kissing him.

♡ He appreciates your loyalty. He see's it in how you reject any other man who wished to be with you. In how you stay by his side no matter the dangers. even when he's having a difficult day and say's something he shouldn't have.

♡ You love him in the way you would start a warm bath or shower whenever he returns home a completely mess. In how you join him and wash the gunk from his hair. And he feels it when you hold him at night. Fingers running through his hair, lightly scratching at his scalp. In how you whisper, "I love you..." In such a soft, sweet whisper.

♡ Dante doesn't like caring. Always makes it a point not to. When in reality, he cares the most. And even though it is still difficult for him to voice or show this, he tries his damn hardest. Just for you.

[eternal-evergreens]

｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+*⁠.⁠✧"Into the looking glass - II " ｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+*⁠.⁠✧

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VII

Post format: Multipart series

Pairing: Yandere!Male!DoL x Fem!Isekai!Reader

Word count: 5.2k

Synopsis: You gain the chance to wake up in the world of one of your favorite games. Unfortunately, the 'favorite game' happens to be one about rape, violence, and stalking. Not only that, but the game seems to be rigged against you. All you want is to find a way home and put this all behind you, but is that even possible...?

Warnings: Sexual Assault, Attempted Non/Con, Stalking, Violence, Age Gaps, Teacher/Student, Caretaker/Ward, One Suicide Joke, Bullying,

Excellent Good Decent Okay Poor Bad Terrible

What…what does that mean?

Darling? Surely, they don’t mean it the way you think they mean it…

…But, if that were the case, why would it be written in red and pink? You think back on all the strange occurrences of the day and come to a horrifying realization.

Beauty: 7/6 Your beauty is beyond measure. Robin wants to be your best friend.             Love: 100% Confidence: 0% Trauma: 0% Lust: 40% Whitney wants to own you. Love: 50% Dominance: 50% Lust: 100% Kylar is obsessed with you. Love: 100% Jealousy: 55% Lust: 90% Sydney is conflicted. Love: 77% Purity: 44% Lust: 66% Bailey doesn’t want you to leave. Love: 25% Lust: 99% You’re Leighton’s favorite. Love: 10% Lust: 85% Your fellow students desire you.

When they say “Darling,” they mean it as in the victim of a yandere.

This...this isn't DoL.

Your phone buzzes. You’ve gotten a text. 

Congratulations! You’ve made a key discovery and found a fragment of the true nature of this world. 

What the fuck does that mean? Wait, this thing can read your thoughts? 

View fragment?  Y/N

Yes. If you can go home, yes.

There are 7 total fragments.             Fragments found: 2             Fragments remaining: 5 Fragment 1:            Welcome to the alpha of Degrees of Lewdity!           If you want to avoid trouble, dress modestly and stick to safe, well-lit areas. Nights are particularly dangerous. Dressing lewd will attract attention, both good and bad.            The new school year starts tomorrow at 09:00. The bus service is the easiest way to get around town. Don’t forget your uniform and backpack!

You remember getting this message. So, that was a fragment, then? Why weren’t you notified before? Did you need to unlock something first?

Fragment 2: This is a world full of yanderes, so be careful! Balance your social stats between fascination, love, lust, jealousy, and devotion to survive. A quick guide on these crucial four states is provided below:  Fascination indicates how enthralled your yandere is by the idea of you. It’s dangerous to let this get too high!  Love indicates how much a yandere values the authentic you. Putting on airs will lower your yandere’s love, but may be necessary at times. Having a negative love will lead to more dangerous encounters. Lust indicates carnal desire. Higher lust can aid in negotiations if you’re willing to reward them, but if this stat goes up too much, they won’t be willing to hear you out before taking what they want. Jealousy indicates the yandere’s volatility and desire to monopolize you. Some yanderes’ jealousy will go up if you don’t spend enough time with them.  Devotion indicates how far the yandere is willing to go out of their way for you. Having this stat means you can make use of your yanderes, but they may also use their devotion in less productive ways.

Seems like every fragment reveals one truth about the world, as well as some tips on how to make use of the information it provides.

Your phone buzzes.

System error. Please reboot.

You look down at your phone with curiosity. What happened? Not knowing what else to do, you restart your phone and open it again. 

Your social tabs have been updated with more accurate information. View tabs? Y/N

Yes.

Social                Excellent Good Decent Okay Poor Bad Terrible Primary relationships Robin The Orphan Robin wants to be your best friend.       Facination: 100% Love: 0% Devotion: 30% Lust: 40%         Confidence: 0% Trauma: 0% Whitney The Bully  Whitney wants to own you.       Facination: 50% Love: 0% Devotion: 0% Dominance: 50% Lust: 100% Kylar The Loner Kylar is obsessed with you.       Fascination: 100% Love: 0% Devotion: 30% Jealousy: 55% Lust: 90% Sydney The Faithful ? Sydney is conflicted.       Fascination: 77% Love: 0% Devotion: 20% Purity: 44%        Lust: 66% Other relationships:  Bailey The Caretaker Bailey doesn’t want you to leave.       Fascination: 25% Love: 0% Lust: 99% Devotion: 1% Leighton The Headmaster You’re Leighton’s favorite.       Fascination: 16% Love: 0% Lust: 85% Devotion: 0% Reputation  The police aren’t concerned with you, and have no evidence linking you to any crime. The atmosphere in the orphanage is calm. You are considered a normal student by teachers. Your fellow students desire you. Lust: 100% Status: 50%

Before you can properly digest this new information, your phone buzzes again.

Congratulations! You’ve unlocked a new quest.  You have just discovered two secrets of the world, and with it, your understanding becomes clearer. ++Awareness. You feel as if you are on the verge of remembering something important. Discover all there is to know about this place, and perhaps you may be granted the opportunity to escape it. View questpage? Y/N

You might be able to go home? You quickly hit the yes button and keep reading.

Main questline  >Find the remaining fragments and discover the true nature of this world. >Meet the remaining love interests.  Time-sensitive >Bailey wants £100 on Sunday.

…You have to meet the remaining love interests? Doesn’t that mean getting kidnapped?! You stare at your phone dejectedly as you roll over in bed. You’ll worry about that later. For now, you just need to rest. You close your eyes, but you can’t get comfortable. Your phone buzzes for what feels like the millionth time, and you lazily pull it out to check. 

You’ve unlocked a new quest!  Your bed is uncomfortable. All rest points are reduced by half. Nightmares are more intense. Every rest has a 5% chance of waking you up sore. Save up your funds and buy a comfortable bed!  Current funds: £186 Funds needed: £2400 Optional: Decorate your room to match your taste. Current funds: £186 Funds needed: ??? Rewards: Triple current rest points, nightmares reduced Penalty: None Bonus Rewards: +Love to all LI’s, passive stress and trauma decay faster while inside.

Money again, huh? Typical. Still, the rewards are pretty good. You’ll have to do it later. For now, you should probably go to work to make it happen. You change out of your uniform and head to the office building, where you approach the kiosk and apply as a temp. It’s a somewhat risky job, but the pay is one of the best, especially once you start getting bonuses.

Your manager this time is a trim man named Marcus. He shows you around the building and you get to work. It’s not too bad, though your clothes get caught in the shredder more times than you’d like to admit, at least you didn’t fall in the koi pond.

Before you realize it, it’s 22:00. Dark once again. Dark in Doltown with a constantly maxed allure. 

Fuck.

You go downstairs and are debating whether you should risk the bus or the streets when a growling pair of yellow eyes meets your gaze. 

“If I get molested by a dog, I’m actually gonna kill myself,” you say to no one in particular, immediately turning to the direction of the nearest bus stop.

That’s another reason you should work at the dog pound from time to time, actually. Completing various tasks there makes the streets safer at night and beastiality encounters less frequent. 

You end up having to use your sole pepper spray charge on two men from the bus, leaving you unprotected and uneasy. You open your phone and turn on the flashlight, but your eye is caught by your status. Right under the blurb telling you about your current state, is purple text reading: “Something is watching you.”

An idea strikes you. It’s bold, it’s risky, it’s—

This is stupid, you think to yourself. This is so, so stupid. You follow your flashlight to a secluded, dead-end alleyway. There’s only one way for someone to come in here. You check your phone. Something is watching you.

“Hello?” You call out. “I know you’re watching me. Come out already.” You hear a rustling near the garbage bags, then see a short figure dart out and make a run for it. You were expecting this, though, so you immediately break out into a sprint and give chase. You aren’t very fast, but your legs are longer, and you quickly catch up. “Gotcha,” you say, hand on their shoulder as you turn them to face you. “Kylar.”

“H-how did you know?” 

“Forget that. Just know I’m not mad.” 

“Y-you aren’t?” There’s a twinge of hope in his voice. Time to crush it.

“I’m not. Not yet, anyway.” Kylar looks confused. “I hear you’re good at chemistry. Can you make pepper spray?” 

“How did you-” 

“Can you?” You say, allowing your voice to take on a flirtatious lull as you lean in close. “I’d be very happy if you could.” You bat your eyelashes and Kylar gulps. He tries to nod but ends up hitting your head with his own by accident. +Pain 

“Good,” you say. “I want you to make pepper spray for me. Make sure I never run out, and you can follow me to your heart's content. Deal?” You hold out your hand for him to take. Kylar considers it for a moment, then takes your hand. ++Devotion. You shake, but he doesn’t let go. Not wanting to provoke him, you leave it, and Kylar ends up walking you home. It’s silly, but you actually feel a little safer walking with him. +Love.

Together, you reach the orphanage’s entrance. Kylar looks like he wants to ask you to stay the night but quickly flushes and runs away. 

Thank God. 

You climb into bed. It isn’t very comfortable.

——————— 

It is the 6th of September, 2022. -It has been 2 days since the game started. -The game started in autumn.  -It is autumn. -School term Finishes on Friday the 2nd of December. Current Funds: £357 Pain: You feel okay Arousal: You are cold Fatigue: You are alert Stress: You are calm Trauma: You are uneasy Control: You are confident Allure: You look like you need to be ravaged

You walk with Robin to school but part ways after reaching the courtyard. You aren’t sure where Robin goes when you part, but you suppose it doesn’t really matter. You head to the library but are surprised to find that Sydney isn’t there. You guess he must have overslept at the temple again, which means he won’t be back until lunch. 

You suddenly wish you knew where Robin went after arriving at school. It’s probably more dangerous to wander around looking for him, though. So you settle down with a textbook until it’s time for class. When you check your school progress, you’re delighted to see every subject at nearly a 50% understanding for the week already. You’re on track.

The science project is assigned. You decide to do one on lichen. The money will help a lot, and it’ll be a good chance to meet Avery for your quest, too.

Someone spills acid on you during class. It was probably supposed to hit your shirt, but because of how you can’t button it up past your chest, it ended up hitting your breast instead. You spent the rest of class in the infirmary getting lectured about lab safety. Luckily, it was hardly even a first-degree burn. It’ll heal in no time, she said. 

+Pain +Willpower

You return just in time to be late for math. +Delinquency 

“Detention,” River says, not bothering to look up from the whiteboard. 

“But—”

“Don’t talk back to me.”  ++Delinquency

You nod, though you doubt he can see it, and look for a seat. The room is full, save for one seat in the back next to Whitney. It’s covered in boxes full of heavy textbooks.

Your phone buzzes. 

>Move the boxes and sit next to Whitney +Fatigue -Dominance Increases chance of harassment >Sit in Whitney’s lap (Promiscuity 4) +++Dominance +++Lust -Jealousy  >Ask someone to move +Delinquency -Dominance >Leave the classroom +++Delinquency

You sigh and march over to a toned boy sitting in the front. You try to smile but end up grimacing instead. “Could I sit here?” You ask. The boy laughs. River shoots you a look. -Status +Deliquency

>Get physical ++Delinquency +Status ? >Move the boxes and sit next to Whitney +Fatigue -Dominance Increases chance of harrasment >Sit in Whitney’s lap (Promiscuity 4) +++Dominance +++Lust -Jealousy  >Leave the classroom +++Delinquency

You grit your teeth and walk over to Whitney, who pats his lap mockingly. You turn away from him to pick up the boxes, and he lifts your skirt up. You don’t think anyone saw, but it was still humiliating. You quickly move the boxes and sit down, trying to focus on the lesson. You’re doing pretty well despite your low grade, but sitting next to Whitney is definitely not helping. About halfway through the lesson, he throws a note at you, and despite your better judgment, you open it. 

“show us your panties slut”

>Flash (Exhibitionism 1) +Lust +Dominance >Throw away -Dominance >Correct the note and throw back (English: Very difficult) --Dominance

You try to correct the note, but find nothing wrong. You toss it in a nearby bin instead.

-Dominance 

The rest of class passes, and although Whitney tries to undo your bra strap again, he reaches for the back instead of the front, leaving you protected.

You go to English next, your previous encounter with Whitney leaving you motivated to do well. You see Kylar sitting in the back. You ignore him and focus on the lesson instead. It’s boring, but you need the grade, so you muddle through it.

You try to muddle through it, anyway. The person behind you keeps kicking your seat, and then looking away every time you turn to face him.

>Tell the teacher -Status +English >Endure +Stress >Move seats +Delinquency

You quietly inform the teacher of your predicament, and she sends the boy to another seat. Some students snicker at you, but you’re able to finish the lesson in peace. -Status +English

The bell rings, and you head to lunch. Robin is eating with some others from the orphanage; they seem to be having fun. Sydney is sitting behind a large pile of books; he looks stressed. Kylar is eating alone, stabbing food with a fork; he looks bored.

>Sit with Robin +Love -Stress -Jealousy  >Sit with Sydney +Love -Stress -Jealousy >Sit with Kylar +Love -Jealousy +++Pepper spray charge  >Eat Lunch -Stress

You sit with Kylar, and hope no one notices. He immediately perks up upon seeing you. “I-I got you this,” he says, handing you a pepper spray canister. “Should keep the perverts away.” 

You gained 20 pepper spray charges! Talk to Kylar each week to refill. >Take it but say nothing -Love >Take it and thank +Love +Devotion >Take it and kiss ++Lust ++Devotion >Take it and reward +++Lust +++Devotion

You thank him sincerely, and the two of you spend the rest of lunch together. +Love +Devotion

After eating, you buy a coffee and head to the library, walking up to Sydney. “Welcome back!” He chirps from behind the desk. He looks exhausted despite the chipper tone. You hand him the coffee. 

“Don’t overwork yourself,” you say, smiling. Sydney looks surprised but quickly smiles and takes the coffee from you. You look down at the stacks of books on his desk. +Love “Anything I can help with?” 

“Oh, you don’t have to-”

“I want to,” you say firmly. You feel bad just leaving him there, plus…

>Help Sydney +Love +Devotion +School -Sydney’s purity

Well, how can you turn that down? Aside from the purity loss, those are all pretty damn good. 

“Well, if you don’t mind,” he says, fidgeting a little. “Could you help me stamp these books?” You nod, and Sydney lets you in behind the counter. +Love +Devotion +School

The two of you chat while you work, and it actually ends up being pretty enjoyable! -Stress -Trauma +Love

Your hands brush with Sydney's while you work. -Sydney'd purity.

“Hey, Syd! Oh, and [First], too!” Someone says, walking up to the counter. It’s Sirris, Sydney’s father and your science teacher. “How are you doing, love bug?” Sydney looks embarrassed but still answers. “Oops! I forgot I’m not supposed to call you that at school. Sorry, hon.” You get the feeling he did it on purpose, but if Sydney also thinks this, he doesn’t say anything. The two of them chat for a little bit, with Sirris mostly ignoring your presence. You feel a little awkward, but it’s cute to see the two of them getting along so well. Sirris leaves after a few minutes, waving to you both.

You smile at Sydney. “Seems like you and Dad are pretty close, huh?” He flushes. 

“L-let’s get back to work,” he says. You decide not to tease him further. The two of you finish the rest of the work in silence, and the bell rings, so you get up and head to History class.

A mousy girl is sitting in your seat next to Robin. You ask her to move, but she won’t budge. You already have detention today, so you decide not to push it and sit somewhere else. Robin looks at you sadly from across the room +Jealousy

You’re called up by Winter to demonstrate the pillory in front of the class, you hesitate to step up, but, remembering Leighton’s punishments, decide to risk it. Unfortunately, luck is not on your side, and Winter is called out while you’re still locked in the pillory. 

“Who thinks the lesson should continue?” Says a slight boy. He gets up from his seat and begins to saunter over, but Robin stands up, too, and blocks his path forward. 

“Stop,” he says, tone even and steady.

“Oh? And what’re you going to do about it?” The slight boy asks. Robin seems to falter for a moment, and the slight boy takes advantage, pushing past him and walking up behind you. You don’t see what happens next, but one moment Robin is in front of you, and the next, he’s gone. You hear a smacking noise behind you, and then a thud as if something had just hit the ground. The class looks incredulous. Winter walks back in. 

“Assaulting another student? I expected better from you, Robin,” he says. 

“Wait, I can explain–” 

“Detention.” 

The slight boy smacks your ass on the way back to his seat. 

+Trauma +Stress

You go to swimming, but your earlier run-in with acid leaves you unable to participate, so you just sit by the pool in your swimsuit until class is over. When you get back, you notice your underwear is missing. You put your clothes on over your swimsuit. It looks a little funny from the front, but it’s better than nothing.

Actually, you might start doing this more often. A swimsuit is tight and harder to get off, no one can unclasp your bra, you don’t have to change, and it’ll actually cover your boobs, even with the shirt unbuttoned. This is a great idea, you think to yourself, feeling a little proud. 

You start to walk to the front courtyard when your phone reminds you of your detention. Shit. You’d forgotten. At least Robin will be there with you? 

Sighing, you head back inside. 

“Keep writing, and don’t stop until I tell you to,” Leighton says. You glance at Robin, who’s working diligently. You decide to work hard, too. +Fatigue 

Robin asks to walk home with you, but you tell him you’re going to the park instead. He waves you off, but there’s a glint in his eye that wasn’t there before. +Jealousy

You go to the park and meet Avery, asking for help gathering Lichen. You tell him about your school project, and he offers to take you out for drinks. You don’t really want to get involved with him, but you’re a little afraid of refusing him.

>Go for drinks +Facination +Dominance +Love? >Refuse -Love +Lust +Rage

None of those options look good, but you remember the guide saying that negative love leads to more dangerous encounters. You take his hand, and the two of you go out. The place he picked is cute, and the employees there seem to recognize him. 

“Can I recommend you a drink?” He asks. “I think I know what you’ll like.” 

>Buy Avery’s recommendation +Facination +Dominance +Stress >Pick your own drink +Love -Stress -Dominance -Fascination -Endearment

You pick your own drink and the two of you find a quiet corner to sit down in. +Love -Stress -Dominance -Fascination -Endearment

Your phone buzzes. 

You’re on a date with Avery! How do you want to conduct yourself? >Act cute +Facination +Endearment >Act shy +Facination -Endearment >Act aloof --Endearment ++Lust  >Be natural -Facination +???

You choose to act natural, hoping he’ll lose interest in you. You don’t voice any complaints, but you don’t bother to hide your discomfort, either. You fidget, you avoid eye-contact, and you don’t listen when he speaks to you.

-Fascination --Endearment +Love

When the date is over, Avery looks annoyed. He doesn’t say anything to you as he walks you to the exit, though his hand still rests on the small of your back.

You go to the manhole next. You don’t really want to, but you want that lichen. Luckily, you encounter no problems getting it. But that says nothing about what happens after.

You’re accosted by a giant lizard. If the game hadn’t told you what it was, you would have thought it was a crocodile based on its sheer size alone. It attacks you from behind, and you struggle to get it off your back. It claws at your clothing, leaving it worse for wear, but you’re able to roll over onto your back. The lizard is pinned underneath you now, but you still can’t reach it. You roll over and feel your shirt rip, exposing your back. You reach into your bag and pull out your pepper spray, aiming for the lizard’s eyes. It scurries away, leaving you panting in the sewers. You get a good workout.

You want to leave, but you still need that Lichen. 

You crawl out of the sewers and head to the tailor, who offers to fix your clothes for £29.99. You accept and head to the office building, where you work as a temp for the next few hours, fighting through the exhaustion. You make £126.

You pass out on your way home and wake up in the hospital. Dr. Harper introduces himself and asks a few questions, but you leave out any details that could cause him to ask you to go to “therapy” with him. You’re discharged soon after, and Bailey picks you up.

“Don’t make me do this again,” he says. 

When you get home, it’s already past midnight. You don’t bother putting on Pajamas, just stripping and hopping under the covers. 

… 

……

………

You should’ve worn clothes, you think to yourself as you feel Kylar’s breath on your face. He’s hard; you can feel the outline of his penis through the blanket. You try to steady your breathing, too embarrassed to open your eyes. He shifts on top of you, and then lifts your blanket from your body. You react without thinking, immediately sitting up in a panic. You just barely avoid colliding with him. Your eyes meet his, and he looks down, getting a fully unobstructed view of your breasts. He flushes deeply and scrambles away. ++Lust

After taking a moment to collect yourself, you stand up to close your window. You notice that it doesn’t have a lock.

You put on pajamas before going back to bed this time and wonder if you can find some way to board it up. You close your eyes, but rest never comes. You’re too on edge. You roll in bed for hours, never relaxing enough to fall back asleep. When you finally give up, it’s already 06:00. You remember your idea from earlier, and decide to wear your swimsuit under your uniform today.

It is the 7th of September, 2022. -It has been 3 days since the game started. -The game started in autumn.  -It is autumn. -School term Finishes on Friday the 2nd of December. Current Funds: £454 Pain: You feel okay Arousal: You are cold Fatigue: You are fatigued Stress: You are strained Trauma: You are uneasy Control: You are insecure Allure: You look like you need to be ravaged

You decide to spend some time in the garden growing daisies. It’s relaxing. By the time you finish, your hands are covered in dirt, and it’s 07:30. You wash your hands and go to Robin’s room to play video games for the next half hour.

“This one’s a cooperative game,” he says. “It’s known for being really difficult.” 

“How do I play?” You ask, taking the controller. Robin leans over, wrapping an arm behind your back and taking your hands in his as he guides your hands to the correct positioning, fingers lingering over yours for a moment longer than necessary. You feel his breath on your skin as he walks you through the controls, his head over your shoulder and his arms still wrapped around you. +Lust

The two of you play for a little bit. Neither of you are very good, but you have a good time regardless. -Stress -Trauma

You and Robin are about to walk to school together when a car pulls up beside you. You brace yourself for the worst, but the window rolls down to reveal Avery instead. “I thought I recognized you,” he says, smiling warmly. “How about I give you a lift?” He glances dismissively at Robin.”Your little friend can come along, too.” Robin looks at you, clearly nervous. 

>Ride with Avery +Robin’s jealousy >Ride with Avery and Robin +??? >Walk with Robin -Love +Lust +Rage -Robin’s jealousy

You try to smile at Robin, but it comes out strained. You hop into the car with Avery. Robin reluctantly follows your lead. You try to act naturally, bringing Robin into the conversation whenever Avery ignores him. Robin seems happy you’re paying attention to him, but still extremely out of place. -Robin’s Jealousy +Robin’s love +Avery’s love -Avery’s Fascination 

Avery leaves, and you head to the library. Sydney isn’t there, so you study by yourself until it’s time to go to Science. A group of students pass by you in the halls; they leer at you but don’t say anything. 

Science, math, and English all pass by without incident, for once. You feel yourself begin to relax as you head to the canteen, only to jump when an arm wraps around your shoulders. You turn around. It’s Whitney.

“I’m hungry,” he says. “But I don’t want anything here. Come with us to get a snack.” Your sense of control wavers. Fearful of his intentions, you shove Whitney off of you and try to run, but he grabs your arm. Delinquents pull out their phones and circle around you. You lift the arm he’s holding and swing it to the side, using the created opportunity to elbow him with your unobstructed arm. He staggers and lets go of your arm, nearly falling but just barely managing to regain his balance. You rush to the least populated area of the circle and try to push past the delinquents, but they grab you and push you back in instead. 

You reach for your pepper spray but notice your backpack has been taken from you. You glance behind you, and sure enough, a group of students are rifling around your things. You lunge for them, but they toss it to the students across from them, playing keep-away. 

Whitney is glaring at you from the other side of the ring. He rushes you, and you fail to dodge. He pushes you to the ground, his friends scattering out of reach. You headbutt him on the way down, but he’s got your arms in a tight grip. You struggle against his hold, kicking and squirming under him. Whitney sits over you, straddling your waist and holding your arms in place beside your head. His face is inches from yours, and you can feel his heavy breath on your skin. 

You try to bridge him, but he’s too heavy. You’re quickly losing strength, and Whitney can tell your struggles are becoming weaker. “Just give up,” he says. “Or I might have to do something worse.” Your sense of control weakens. He leans down over you, rubbing his penis against your stomach. You freeze, a sense of cold, numbing dread overtaking you as Whitney climbs off of you. He offers a hand to help you up, and you, briefly forgetting your situation, take it. 

He pulls you up and into his arms with surprising strength, smirking at you as your noses brush. He releases your hand but still wraps an arm around your waist, keeping you from leaving. 

“Can I have my bag back?” You ask, hopefully. Whitney looks over your shoulder at the people rifling through your things. One of them reaches for the side zipper you keep your pepper spray in, and you freeze. 

“She’s got pepper spray!” The short boy exclaims. 

“Holy shit,” a lithe girl says. 

Whitney releases you from his grip on your waist but soon grabs your arm and forces it behind you. You move your left leg around his and plant it on the ground, then you twist yourself away from him until your arm is beside you again. You plant your other foot and lift your left, kicking him in the back of his knee. He falls, but you fall with him. He lets go when you land, and you roll over off of him, quickly standing. You kick him in the groin for good measure and then walk up to the delinquent, holding your backpack and pepper spray. You hold out your hand expectantly and hands it to you stiffly. +Status

You decide to skip lunch and go to the mall instead. You pick up a keychain with a latch and attach your pepper spray to it, hooking it onto your skirt’s belt loop. It took you a while to find the right kind of keychain, and by the time you’re back on campus, it’s already 13:06. +Deliquency

You quickly head into history class, where Winter takes note of your tardiness, and sit next to Robin. He notices your ruffled hair and asks if you’re okay. You smile at him as you take your seat, but he seems unconvinced. You spend the rest of History daydreaming. 

When you get to your swimming lesson, you don’t even have to get naked. Your swimsuit is already under your uniform, so all you have to do is take them off. Your injury yesterday has healed well enough to allow you into the pool, too, so you get to improve your swimming grade. It isn’t until after the lesson is over, and you emerge from the pool, dripping wet, that you realize the fatal flaw with your underwear idea. 

You have to put clothes on over your wet swimsuit. 

Not seeing any other viable option, you put your clothes on over your wet swimsuit. The fabric clings to your body, but it does that anyway. You leave the changing room and head to detention, trying to ignore the stares of your peers as they gawk at your see-through shirt (they can’t even see anything through it, you aren’t sure what they’re staring at.).

Detention only takes ten minutes, so you’re still able to walk home with Robin. He doesn’t say anything, but you catch him taking peeks at your chest every so often. +Love +Lust +Stress

You go to the temple after changing and pick up some pink lichen for your science fair project. 

You think about the last sample of lichen you need and wonder if a £500 prize is worth being molested by ghost tentacles. You wonder if £2,000 is worth being hunted with a vengeance every blood moon.

You do need the money…

——————— 

<Prev Next>

[neeeooon]

(un)official hype squad ;

blue lock itoshi rin x fem!reader, smau

genre/cw

-> smau (+ chs w writing indicated w a ⚽️), comedy, dark humor, found family, angst, cursing, references to sex, y/n knows nothing about soccer, takes place during bllk s2 (blue lock v japan u20 era), cheating, oliver is a dick, everyone has been aged up a year (or two) for story purposes, original characters + shipping, toxic relationships, friends to lovers, slowburn, pls ignore timestamps unless otherwise stated, rin is so slowburn 100k wc fic ending in an aggressive makeout session - tsuyalovebot

description

-> when y/n finds out that her boyfriend is cheating on her with not one, but three other women, they decide to team up and screw with their now ex-boyfriend. the plan? learn everything they can about soccer and use their newfound knowledge to cheer and become the (un)official hype squad for the opposing team

playlist

-> hype boy, newjeans -> HOT TO GO, chappell roan -> primadonna, MARINA -> because i liked a boy, sabrina carpenter -> apple, charlie xcx -> mantra, JENNIE -> teenage dream, katy perry -> toxic, britney spears -> pink pony club, chappell roan -> habits (stay high), tove lo -> real man, beabadoobee -> attracted to you, pinkpantheress -> popular, the weeknd, playboi carti, madonna

status

-> completed!

profiles (1) profiles (2) profiles (3)

0 | welcome y/n

1 | baddie #6

2 | the bet

3 | boy kissers

4 | new friends

5 | in women we trust

6 | eye candy

7 | EW

8 | secrets and blabbermouths

9 | the purple guy

10 | red bean bun (⚽️)

11 | bribes (⚽️)

12 | short king

13 | knock on wood

14 | lower lash slime

15 | lesson in friendship (⚽️)

16 | family matter

17 | trends and threats

18 | love, actually (⚽️)

19 | confessions

20 | d-day

21 | box seats (⚽️)

22 | victory

23 | after party (⚽️)

24 | nosebleeds (⚽️)

25 | sos

26 | ice pops (⚽️)

27 | practice makes perfect

28 | chicken nuggets

29 | official hype squad (⚽️)

30 | neo egoist league

taglist

-> @enepsigosthelast @svnarxnn @shutuppeter @meekydeeks @tired-child00 @arwawawa2

© neeeooon, 2025

[rqnarok]

LINGER | 4,3k

old man!logan x fem!reader

SUMMARY: Being another mutant who survived Charles’ seizures, you are forced to live alongside Logan. The things between you and Logan goes on and off, fragile and indefinite—yet it always lingers.

TAGS AND WARNINGS: smut, mdni! mentions of blood, death, and grief (not logan), lots of angst but lots of fluff too, old man!logan x mutant!reader but unspecified mutation so it’s up to you! minor injuries, nightmares, miscommunication, kind of slow burning (?), pining, logan calls himself ‘old man’ several times, petnames, reader being called ‘kid’ by logan, unrequited love but actually requited (just angst all over…), logan howlett is bad at feelings, love confessions, virgin!reader, dirty talk, praise kink, p with little plot, fingering (f receiving), insecure!reader and insecure!logan, logan loves reader, unprotected p in v.

NOTES: not proofread! bello! ‘m not new to writing but new to writing fan fictions hehe! old man!logan is kinda my everything and this fic is kindaaaa self indulgent. listened to “linger” by the cranberries while writing this :0 feel free to send reqs and feedback to my inbox. this was mere my writing practice and my attempt to gain motivation in life. oh, sorry for the spelling and grammar mistakes, eng is not my first language! hope this isn’t my first and last fic.. see u all <3 or not....:p

'Shamed what happened back in the East. 

A saying you heard but don’t know where. Even who said it. Still, you remember all of it—their cries of death, their pain, their suffering. 

A haunting vivid memory in X-Mansion, where all of your friends are lying on the ground, in pain—and you could not do anything. You just watched. In pain, too. There was a thought which you think that it was the end. You were already accepting it with open arms, welcoming your exit.

Then your mutation saved you from your fate. Your survival, at the price of grief. 

“You’re doing it again.” 

Jolted by his comment, you dart your eyes away from the road and into your lap. “Do what?” You mutter quietly, not sure if he even hears it. 

But he always does. “Never mind.” Logan sighs in the damp air. You both know it is better not to talk about what exactly happened back then. Talking is not what you two are best at either. “I asked you a question earlier, you hungry?” 

“A little, yeah. Yeah.” Your gaze sways to his driving figure: how his right hand grips the steering wheel way too tightly, how his soft blue shirt is all wrinkled, how his tired eyes look with those heavy eye bags, and the grey hairs all over his untrimmed beard. He looks worn out. But so are you.

The two of you have been doing this for God knows how long. Wandering from one place to the other with Charles in the backseat. Looking for a place to settle but not really looking for it either. It’s simply a suicide travel. 

He makes a turn towards a cheap-looking diner on your left. 

Northern Mexico. 

A place where you both decided to settle indefinitely. Alongside Charles, who lives in the abandoned smelting plant not so far away. Logan takes up a job as a limo driver in El Paso and every time you tell him you don’t want him to be so far away during the daytime, he always says: One of us has to earn the money, kid.

Kid. 

To this day, after time living together, you aren’t sure of the nature of the relationship between you and Logan. Companions? Friends? Strangers?

Well, one thing you are sure of is you are not his adopted child and he does not see you in that way, either. He sees you in the same way he sees Charles, as his responsibility. 

Before all this, you were aware of him: what he looked like, his mutation, his reputation. But you do not know him personally. You passed him once or twice in the hallways after your studies. That was it. 

All of a sudden, he’s all you have. The only other sane mutant you are fully sure, survived Charles’ seizure. Still, you two weren’t friends before and sure aren’t friends now. In this shared house, you and Logan are strangers—forced to live together on the sole base of sentimentality.

Deep down, you know there is something more. Something vulnerable, down there. Something fragile. There are moments like where-

Your thoughts are frozen by the sudden creaking sound of the front door. The sight of Logan all bloody and bruised entered your wandering vision. The book you were reading is now abandoned as you get up from the comfortable sofa. 

“W-what happened?” Rushing into him with quick movements, this is not the first time he returns all beaten up but it is still a blow to you every single time. You can’t stand the thought of losing another person in your life, even if you convince yourself that he is a mere stranger. 

His white shirt has reds in many parts, and he’s bleeding all over the house, ���Some fuckin’ kids tried to mess up with the limo. F-fuck.” With the blood smeared all over his hand, he managed to get into the shared bathroom, his breath coming out short. 

“Wait!” You rushed to his figure with an aid kit in your trembling hands. He slouched forward, cursing himself. Gently, you wrap your arms around him before he falls and help him lean his back on the white tiles behind. 

He shakily opened the buttons of his shirt and you could see everything. While you grab all you need and start cleaning his wounds, he looks at you with his half-lidded eyes. The intense gaze that always makes you want to shy away from him—you are not so sure why. 

After a while, you kneel beside him and break eye contact, “Did you kill them?” you question him carefully as you tread his wounds. Not sure how he would answer tonight. 

Logan grunts when you touch one of his nasty wounds, still looking at you,  “No. But you should see them.” 

You feel uncomfortable at his reply, retreating your hands and facing the mirror, looking down at the sink, “I don’t want to see them, Logan.” At some point, as you search around for more supplies to treat his injuries that still haven’t healed by his mutation, you break down crying. Out of your realisation, you have been holding back your worries and sobs since you saw him. 

Logan, who notices this, pulls you abruptly into him and seats you on one of his thighs. “Hey, hey, why y’crying huh? Hm?” 

You hate this. You hate how you suddenly cry at the sight of him, at the reminder that this is all finite. His big calloused hand starts rubbing up and down your back, gently shushing you. You hate how he knows you all too well by now. 

“I told you to stop doing the job. I-I told you that this… this would happen. I’m always scared. I thought— ” You let out one big sob or whimper, you’re not so sure. Not when he’s cradling you in his arms like this. “You can’t heal like you used to, you can’t barely–”

“Hey, shh, pretty girl,” Pretty girl. You blush at that. “I’m here with you now, aren’t I? That’s all that matters.” He shushed you oh, so tenderly. Such a paradox could live inside a man like him. Logan forces himself to smile, “Aren’t I? Come on, feel me up.” Logan sits you up straight on his lap. 

He always does this. Giving out, you delicately place both of your hands on the sides of his face, feeling him up. He watches you brush around his greying beard while holding your waist in place, drawing circles on your skin. “There ‘ya go. I’m here.”

When you feel calm down and tired, you rest your heavy head on his shoulders, “Maybe I should take a turn going to town–” 

He cuts you off while lifting your chin, forcing you to look at him right in the eyes that you were trying so hard to dodge. Without him saying any words, you know he is saying no. Your assumption is confirmed when he shakes his head slightly, looking down at you sternly. 

“It’s just me and you, Logan.” You say meekly and defeatedly. 

“Exactly. That's why it’s gotta be me, baby.” 

Moments later, you continue mending his cuts. And moments after that, you’re both lying together on the bed. Holding each other in slumber. Your head on his chest, his hands on your back. 

Through these delicate moments, you know him. That he is not simply a stranger to you. That this means something more. 

But he does not talk about those moments. Which makes you feel like your perspective is an illusion that you made by yourself, untrue. A false memory that you created in your head because you do feel something for him. 

In the morning, you wake up alone. Logan is nowhere to be seen around the room. Only traces of his scent are left on the white sheets wrapping around your figure. 

When you open the bedroom door, there he is. Sitting on the kitchen chair, his slouched back facing you while he sips on his black coffee which he secretly hates. He likes the coffees that you frequently make for him more. You don’t know that. He never told you. 

“Logan?” you call out to him. But he didn’t budge away from reading the newspaper. As if you weren’t there at all. As if moments like last night never happened. As if it’s true that you are merely a responsibility to him. A burden, even. You hang your head low at his ignorance and retreat to your room.

Such a paradox could live inside a man like him. 

Other moments happened too. One afternoon, his phone suddenly rings while he is out visiting Charles. With all the self-control you have, you try to ignore it, ignore everything that connects to him because it upsets you. But your curiosity gets ahead of your mind and you pick his phone up. 

“Hello?” you place the thing on the side of your left ear. No sound, nothing, nada. Before you know it, you feel a presence behind you and Logan is looking down at you with that look again. 

Snatching his phone away from you, not so gently, he mutters, “How many times do I have to tell you not to touch my stuff, huh?” The way he remarks and the way he looks at you makes you feel small and embarrassed. These are the moments where he is not going to cradle you in his arms–you know that. 

Your eyes darted to the floor. The lines on the wood oak floor suddenly seemed very interesting, “I’m- Your phone wouldn’t stop ringing. So I thought–” 

“You thought? What? You have the right to?” Logan cuts you off before you finish your poor excuse of explanation. “You have your own pile of shit and I have mine. Stay out of my shit. You understand?” 

Sometimes there are sparks of rage inside of you that make you gain bits of confidence, “Well, we technically live in the same place, so–” 

Though, Logan quickly dims off that spirit by not letting you finish, “Understand?”

You limit yourself to a nod in agreement because you don’t trust your voice. Confusion often fills up your body to the brim. These are the moments you hate. How he treats you differently at one time and another. You hate how he makes you so weak. You hate how he has you wrapped around his fingers. You hate that you don’t have the same effect on him. 

“It’s not your fault, darling.” Charles reasons you one time when you visit him for weekly check-ups. “That man has issues! Even after all these years, I still could not fully understand him and his... complexities.” You force your lips to quirk up a little and pretend as if you justify that, too. But you're in so deep.

Weeks after weeks, it went on like that. You, confused. Logan, indifferent all the time. You miss his touches. Was it just a game to him?

Paralyzed, the color red clouded your vision. You see bodies lying everywhere, dead bodies. The room smells like dread. With what is left, your power manages to slow down the pain that rushes in you. Protect you from the incursion. 

Here, there is no way to hide. Their cries echo through the halls. Their screams still haunt you. 

If you could have saved yourself, you could have saved them too. But you watched them die.

You watched them die. 

You watched them die. 

Inside the dark of your room, you did not realize that you had been thrashing and screaming in your sleep. The nightmare came to you again. Grief shows through in the form of tears, flowing into your cheeks as you open your eyes in fear, “I let them die, I let them die, I let them die–” 

“Sweetheart?” a voice comes from outside your room. Near but so far away.

You kept repeating those words until a figure finally came up in front of you, Logan. He calls out your name, “Hey, no, no–” Now he is touching you all over, trying to stop you from moving rapidly and hurting yourself in the process. Sitting you in front of him and making you face him. Closing your eyes for a brief second, your chest heaving up and down, you remember again and you panic, “I-I watched them die–” your voice wavers. 

“No, shh, keep those eyes open. You’re okay. I’m here.” His hands hold your face and his thumb brush off some of the hair in your wet cheeks. 

“I could’ve saved them. They were dying, they were in pain–” You cry out as the scene on that day played out again. Daunting and haunting you without your consent. Always lingering around on the back of your neck. Only one person knows what it feels like.

Logan’s eyes soften while he remembers that bitter memory too, “So were you,” His voice coaks out, soothing you, “So were you. ‘s not your responsibility.”

At this, you put your arms around his neck and grip him tightly, finally comprehending what is happening. “Calm down, baby. Logan’s here. ‘M not leaving.” He hushed you back to your senses. 

After minutes of him comforting you in silence, his eyes dart to your bleeding lips which you bite to stifle your sobs. With much surprise, Logan parts them and caresses them. Looking at them then back at your eyes, then at your lips again. Your foreheads are now touching and you find yourself nose-to-nose to him.

In your chest, your heart beats so loudly that you fear he may actually hear it. Then with that look that he gives you again, every logical thought and pride you were trying to build, collapses inside you, making you putty in his arms. As you always do. 

But tonight, something more is happening, “Logan.” You managed to call out his name in a whisper, begging for something. He feels the same way too, “I know, baby. I know.”

Logan scans your face, searching for any signs of discomfort as he starts to kiss each one of your cheeks. He tells himself repeatedly in his mind, “No, not her. Anyone but her, you dipshit. You’ll lose her if you do this.” A belief that he has been telling himself every day.

What you don’t know about Logan, after all this time, is how he is afraid that if he touches you, if he shows you his feelings, you will be gone from this world. If he cares about you, he will lose you. He is in fear that the cruel world will take you away. As it always does to people he cared.

Bad shit happens to people I care about. And he managed to hold onto this thinking and compose himself every time.

Until now. 

Your whimpers and pleads get to him–he cannot hold back anymore, he doesn’t want to hold back anymore. He peppers your face with kisses, everywhere but where you need him the most, your lips. “L-Logan…” you feel your face getting hotter every moment. “Ah, p-please–”, you greedily grind your lower body onto his thighs. 

“Fuck, sweetheart.” He groans while breathing all over your face, “You have no idea what I would do to you, the shit I’d do for you.” One of his hands gets under your nightgown and he succeeds in squeezing your tit. “Ah!” you squeak in surprise and quickly get embarrassed when he chuckles at the noises you make. 

When your gaze meets him, the force can no longer be stopped. What you both try to bury deep down, what you two were locking away in a box, is bolting itself abruptly. The thumps of his heart match yours. There is no going back now.

While breaking a promise, he makes a new promise to himself: that he’d protect you before all the bad shit happens. He will not let any of it get to you. 

After a brief staring contest and lingering doubts, he loses himself, mutters ‘Fuck this shit’ under his breath, and locks his lips on yours, melting you completely into his embrace. You gasp into his mouth and tighten your hug around him. His tongue finds yours sensually as he cradles your head to deepen the kiss. It was the first time he kissed you. 

“It’s just you and me, kid.” He blurted out against your mouth and you could not conceal your smile. Whatever you both were trying to suppress, it’s now roaming free in liberation. 

His mouth grins at your reaction and before he can stop himself, he confesses, “‘M sorry for how I acted these days. This old man was so fuckin’ afraid of how things would turn out.” 

You were about to say it’s okay but he continues, “But he will try his best from now on. What d’ya think? Hm?” Logan looks over at you hesitantly, afraid of what you’d reply. His ‘confession’ does sound way better in his head, when he practiced beforehand. You didn’t know that, of course. 

A giggle went out of your lips, “I think I’d like that.” you say breathlessly before kissing him again. 

Our brain is meant to be effective. It is not designed to be right at all times. Well, sometimes we are right, but we experience the wrongs more. What we thought we knew, we don’t. What we thought we didn't know–maybe we do. Especially about another person and their feelings. Similar to what you thought Logan Howlett feels. 

Following that night, things had changed between the both of you. The ‘boundaries’ separating you two are torn into pieces, in a good way. Now you are reminded by the nature of your relationship through everything. When he comes back home to you every day, when he puts his arms around you while you are cooking dinner, when he kisses the crown of your head before sleeping, when he fixes your favorite kitchen chair, and many other whens. 

Including now, when he kisses you so roughly and gently at the same time, fueled by the desire he kept while he was still stubborn back. Logan hiked up your dress until he could feel your breasts, pinching one nipple.  “Missed you– missed you so much today.” He says while kissing down between your chest and your stomach, “Missed this,” somewhere in between. You are not so sure. 

“Tell me, did you miss me too, Little Missy?” Logan, who is kneeling before, tilts his head upwards so he can see your face. You cover your blushing face, shying away from him and his question like you are used to, “You know the answer.”

He picks you up from the kitchen with one hand and puts you down on your shared bed, “Oh, you don’t wanna say it?” You shake your head in an attempt to tease him. Lying down on your back and with parted legs, you can feel his rough beard while he kisses your inner thigh. “Aight' then, we may just see it.” 

By seeing it, he means ripping your white underwear, the one you adored the most and has a pink ribbon, “Shh. I’ll buy you another one.” Logan quickly says before he can hear your protesting remarks.  

“Really liked that one... ah!” The tip of his tongue probes your entrance without much warning, lapping up and down your cunt. “See, baby? You missed me so much. She’s dripping here.” 

You feel embarrassed with how he is looking at you down there as if he is inspecting you. Unconsciously, you try to close your legs slightly. Logan does not like this as delivers a soft spank to one of your butt cheeks. “So shy all the time when it’s just your old man.”  

Now, his rough hands are gripping each one of your thighs and keeping you in place. His tongue lapped at your pussy—from your hole to your clit, circling and sucking until you can feel his beard slicked up by your juices. Whimpering, your hands desperately pull at his hair, pulling him closer and closer as if he isn’t already eating you up. 

He chuckles darkly when you whine pathetically at the movement of his one thick finger entering your wet hole. “Such a pretty pussy, baby.” He huffed and looked up at you with pure animalistic need as his fingers worked your walls, hitting that gummy spot that had you crying.

“Please! P-please—Logan. Want you inside,” This plead makes Logan stop his actions and glance up at you, questioningly. You weren’t sure about a lot of things, but you are sure about this. “‘M ready, pleaseplease…”  

Logan has been denying you his cock for who knows how long. All this time, he gets you off by his mouth, thighs, fingers, anything except his cock. He always has an excuse, “You’re not ready for me, baby.” Or “This ain’t about me, kid.” Or “My old bones are too tired today. Next time, yeah?” Each one of them frustrates you. 

Your virginity is making him hold himself back. You know this, he knows this. Deep down, he still thinks he is a filthy man who does not fully deserve you and that he is ruining you. He thinks by not penetrating you by his cock, he gains some sense of decency but he really is just unsure. Not about you, no, never. About himself. 

But when you look at him with those big eyes while sprawling yourself bare to him, how could he deny you? “Are you sure? Fuck. Can’t hold myself back anymore.” Logan takes off his crumpled white shirt, undoes his belt, and tosses them away, making a clinking sound that echoes through the room. His eyes grew dark with raw desire as he brought down his pants and fists his large cock in his hand. All while looking at you. 

“Yes! Please, please, give it to me. ‘Can take it!” You snapped with excitement and lean up, pressed a kiss to a part of his greying beard—the older man grins at your eagerness. “You’re going to be the death of me, pretty girl.” Logan lifts both of your legs and puts his mouth on your mound once more, making sure that you’re ready and you haven’t changed your mind.

Between his hunger licks on your pussy and the probes of his thick fingers, he mutters, “I fuckin’ love you.” And that statement itself makes you cry out his name and come all over his fingers and tongue, “L-Logan!”

“Atta girl.” You arch your back in a euphoric state of your orgasm. He could smell you. Every part of you. “So beautiful. Can’t believe you’re all mine.” 

He helps you remove every fabric you had on, your pretty white sundress, your bra, your socks—everything that is separating you and him. Now you and he are completely bare, “All this for your old man, huh?” He mumbles the rhetorical question into the chilly air, his hands ghosting over your perked nipples and pinching them softly, then kisses each one of them. He goes down on you again and kisses your clit one more time. 

The sight of him makes your breath caught in your throat. You swallow your spit at the look of greying bread glistening with your cum, at the sight of his thick cock springing against his stomach. “Is my baby ready for me?” You nod your head eagerly at him, assuring him that this is what you want. 

With one hand on his cock, he lowers himself between your bodies, “Use your big girl words, darlin’” He nudges at your already wet entrance, waiting for your response, taking his time with you. 

“‘M ready..! I want this, want you.” You pamper kisses all over his face the same way when he comforts you during your nightmare. His forehead meets yours and he kisses your lips gently as a form of understanding your needs. “Hold on t’me, my sweet girl.” 

Then his tip slips inside and you gasp into his mouth, “Good girl. My good girl. You can take it.” You tighten your grip around him as he pushes himself deep inside you, “D-Doing so good, baby. Just a little more,” down to the hilt—his cock bottoms out, “There ya’ go, princess.” Logan coos at your trembling state. 

He swallows your moans with a hungry kiss, his tongue exploring the insides of your mouth. “Feel so fuckin’ good. I fuckin’ love you.” There he says it again while he pulls himself all the way out to just the tip, then all the way back in—making you throw your head upwards.

Logan growls and kisses your bare neck, leaving some marks on it but you don’t care, in fact, you want him to. “I love you too, Logan.” You utter those words to him as he rams into you, his thrusts going faster and faster as he loses himself watching you. The friction of his cock against the velvet walls of your cunt is addictive, the pleasure makes the older man grunts. 

He thrusts harder, his hips slamming into home, the sound of flesh hitting flesh fills the room, alongside your little ah ah ah's . 

"Cum for me, baby. Come for your old man." With one final, powerful thrust, he releases inside your tight heat, his warm seed filling you as he curses and lets his head fall onto your embrace.

"Ah!" You shudder as you clench tight around him and milk his cock. Your eyes rolled back in your head, your body giving out of control as you experience another release of the night. 

Logan lifts his head to scan over the scene before him. He had never seen anything like it and he had seen a lot of shit. Your figure is all fucked out and filled. He didn’t think anything could be more beautiful than what he has right now. And he says it again before bringing his lips into yours, “It’s just you and me.” 

You tiredly return his kiss and look at him with a soft smile, “It’s just you and me.” 

His meaningless and plain life becomes something again because of you. You are the anchor of his life and his reason not only to stay but to fight and protect. 

Logan knows there are things that can be stopped, but then there is love.

He is in so deep too. This time, the both of you willingly let it linger. It’s just you and him.