#june smut

[lilyrennifer]

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🎸 June

Nothing So Far

🧚 Jinhwan

Nothing So Far

🦊 DK

Nothing So Far

[atomic-raunch]

June

[whytheylosttheirminds]

june gloom - r.c.

(Rafe Cameron x pogue!reader, 4.5k words)

summary: After 8 beautiful months tangled up with the richest man on the island, your trist comes to a screeching hault when it's time for him to find a girl more suited to his lifestyle. Even though you tried to move on, a photo of a new girl on his arm sends you both into a spiral that ends with him back in your bed.

content: angst/smut, drinking, smoking, what could be perceived as infidelity but technically isn't. this story is 18+ minors do not interact.

You met him in September, at a nightclub on the mainland. You had been dancing with your girlfriends all night, celebrating your best friend’s bachelorette party. It was the fourth bachelorette you’d been to in a year, now at the age when all of your friends were settling down and getting married. There was no ring in sight for you, though. Your friends would laugh and call you the wild stallion, a running joke among the group that no man could tame you. You never saw the point in marriage. You were stubbornly independent, insistent that you would make your own way in the world, promising yourself you’d never be just someone’s little wife. 

You knew this choice meant you’d struggle a little more than your friends, most of whom ‘married-up’ financially. You didn’t grow up with money, and you didn’t have any now. You had spent your whole life on The Cut and you had no problem spending the rest of it there. If the trade off for living your life however you wanted was hustling and jumping between dead-end jobs, so be it. You were much more interested in collecting stories anyway, always looking for wild nights and strange characters to fill your life with, briefly, not keeping anyone around for too long.

You went out every weekend, no Monday 9-to-5 looming over your fun. You’d brought many guys back to the little shack by the water that you rented, your barely-one-bedroom, as you called it lovingly. All the other bachelorette parties ended up with you bringing some guy back to your apartment for some pretty good sex and a completely ingenuine “I’ll text you sometime.” So when you stepped off the dance floor, sweat making your silk-slip dress cling to your curves, and the bartender handed you a drink that was a gift “from that guy over there” you smiled wide, knowing this night would go exactly as planned.

You smiled slyly at the tall blond in the corner as you took a delicate sip of your drink. He was gorgeous, eyeing you up and down like he was starved for you. His large frame was crowding the booth of the VIP section as he winked and lifted his glass to you in salute. 

This time, there was a problem. This time, the sex wasn’t pretty good. This time, the sex was earth shatteringly incredible. You genuinely didn’t know sex could be that good, that a guy you met at a bar could ever be capable of making you feel so euphoric, or come so hard, so many times. You didn’t know your own body was capable of the things he got it to do. You didn’t think you’d ever want to stay up talking and laughing with one of your hook-ups like you did that night. You didn’t think you’d ever wake up disappointed that the guy from the night before wasn’t in the bed next to you. And you definitely didn’t think you’d ever be the one to pull out your phone and text him first.

After that night, you saw each other regularly. It turned out he lived on the island too, though his estate was on the rich side of town. That first night, he only told you his first name. But when he had you put your number in his phone and text yourself so you’d have his, a note popped up at the top of the text thread that said “maybe: Rafe Cameron.” You recognized the surname immediately, it was everywhere on this island. After he left the second time, you googled him. Thousands of hits came up, articles about his family, pictures of them at their estate, on their yacht, at charity galas and property groundbreakings. Even though you knew his drive back from your place was only a couple of minutes, every night when he snuck out into the darkness, you couldn’t help but feel like he was retreating to a completely different universe.

After a few weeks, Rafe’s late night visits started getting longer and longer. After he’d fold you into shapes you didn’t know you could make and fuck you breathless, you’d lay in your bed, his head on your chest, smoking a joint and talking for hours. You talked about everything, the conversations weaving between casual chats about your common interests, to deep talks about purpose, values, and trauma, to joking around and teasing each other until you were giggling below him and he was smiling into the skin of your neck. 

You’d tell him about your plans to never settle down and keep chasing the next adventure. He’d tell you about his asshole of a father and the grand plans he had for him. Neither of you ever acknowledged how antithetical your life plans were. The truth that nothing real would ever work between you would hang in the air everyone once in a while, but you’d just push away the tension with a joke and fuck again. 

Even though your nights together would bleed well into the early morning, Rafe never stayed over. It was an unspoken rule between you, he never told you he wanted to stay and you never asked him to. You told yourself it was a good thing, exactly what you wanted, as you shivered in your empty bed and cursed the loss of his warmth.

One night, that May, you and Rafe sat on your bed, eating the take-out he had ordered to your apartment after you’d finished fucking. He was quieter than usual, distracted. Just a little earlier, he had gone down on you for longer than he ever had. Taking his time, praising every inch of you with kisses. He whispered little nothings into the soft skin of your inner thighs before devouring you. “So beautiful” and “so good to me, baby” and “all I can fucking think about.” He always talked to you sweetly, saying the nicest words while doing the filthiest things to you, but this time was different. Typically he was rough, which you loved, but this night he moved slowly, without his usual urgency. He brought you to orgasm on his tongue twice, before fucking you in missionary, his forehead against yours as you came at the same time. Since that moment, he’d barely said anything to you outside of asking what you wanted for dinner.

You sat in silence and picked at the Chinese food he’d gotten from your favorite place. You watched him as he shifted uncomfortably on the mattress and twirled a chopstick between his long fingers.

“You don’t like your food?” You asked him hesitantly.

“Hmm?” He looked at you for the first time in several minutes. “Oh, no it’s fine, it’s good.”

His smile was tight as he set the containers on your nightstand, out of the way.

“Really? ‘Cause you didn’t eat any of it,” you pointed out. You hoped your teasing would loosen him up a bit, but he just sighed and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands.

“Hey, is everything okay?” You asked quietly, your hand reaching out to gently pat his leg. You had never seen him like this before and had no idea how to proceed.

He looked up at you and leaned back against the headboard, biting the skin around his thumbnail. You were getting nervous.

“Rafe?”

“I, uh, had a talk with my dad today,” he muttered.

“Oh?” You raised your eyebrows in curiosity. “And how did that go?”

“About as good as you might think,” he chuckled humorlessly. 

Even though you didn't know his dad, after the many stories Rafe had told you about his father’s temper and general disapproval of him, you hated him.

You sat in silence, hand still on Rafe’s knee, as you waited for him to tell you more.

“He said, uh…” Rafe stalled, like he was struggling to find the right words.

“He said what?” Your heartbeat quickened in anticipation, the unfamiliarity of his tone throwing your thoughts into chaos.

When he still didn’t answer, you whispered, “Rafe you’re making me nervous.”

He responded to this, clearly feeling bad when he realized he had you on edge. He placed his hand over yours and finally made eye contact with you. You tilted your head and tried to read his expression with no luck.

“He told me he wants to make me the VP of Acquisitions at Cameron Development,” he finally said.

You shook your head slightly as a big smile of relief spread across your face.

“Oh,” you half-chuckled. “Well, Rafe, that's great! That’s what you wanted right?” You placed your other hand on his forearm and shook him playfully. “That’s good news, why are you acting like someone died? Jesus, you scared me!” 

He smiled at the gesture, you knew he liked the way you’d mess with him. But then he straightened up more against the headboard, pulling away from you slightly.

“That’s not all he said,” he explained.

“What else? He’s going to give you a million dollars?” You joked.

“No,” he said sternly, making the smile fall from your lips immediately. “He said if I want this promotion that I need to get my shit together and…settle down.”

“Oh,” your brows furrowed as you considered his meaning, not quite understanding at first. When it hit you, you pulled your hands away from him completely. “Oh.”

“Y/n,” Rafe whispered, observing the way your lips curved down slightly.

“You’re ending this,” you said flatly, gesturing between the two of you.

“I didn’t say that,” he winced.

“But you are, though, I mean you have to,” you had steeled yourself into an impassive tone, trying to come across as unaffected.

Internally, you were on fire, feeling so foolish for how happy and giggly you had just been, oblivious to the fact that you were essentially being dumped.

Neither of you had ever said this was exclusive, you weren’t a couple, there was no commitment made. Still, the way he’d talk while he was inside of you made your head dizzy with the possibility of it all. There was an alternate universe out there somewhere in the cosmos, where he made you his for real, claimed you in public, put a ring on your finger. Sometimes, when he was so deep you were seeing stars and telling you how much he “loved being inside of his girl” you’d allow yourself to get lost in the fantasy, just for a minute.

Then you’d wake up alone, still poor, still a pogue. You’d light up a cigarette and let the smoke engulf your delusions.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “He made it very clear that he expects me to find someone soon, to get married and start a family. I can’t do that with you, obviously.”

Obviously. Your throat tightened at the hurtful assertion.

“Right, obviously,” you agreed. “I mean I’m just a pogue who lives in this shithole and you should be with someone more worthy of you.”

“No, that’s not what I meant,” Rafe muttered, closing his eyes tight in frustration. “I meant, ‘cause you know, you don’t want all that.” 

You rolled your eyes. “It’s okay, Rafe, I get it,” you scoffed. “This was never meant to be a long term thing anyway, we’re just fucking.” 

It was such a ridiculous assertion, your trist had gone so far past just fucking, but you needed to convince yourself it was true otherwise there was no way you’d make it out of this unscathed. 

Rafe just blinked back at you for a minute before standing from your bed. You were grateful he was moving quickly, the last thing you wanted to do was let him see you cry.

“Right, just fucking,” he agreed. “And I need someone who can run a house and have a family, y'know, and understands my world.”

Every single word felt like a knife in your gut. You nodded like you couldn’t agree more, shuffling down in your bed and pulling the covers up.

“Okay then,” you fluffed your pillow, as if it was any other night and you were just getting ready for bed. “I hope it all works out. This was fun, though. Lock the door on your way out?”

Rafe looked down at you for a few seconds, your back to him as you settled into your pillows. 

“You got it,” he answered. 

And then he was gone. And for the first time in your life, you cried yourself to sleep.

It was June now, a month had passed since the night you last spoke to Rafe. You had started going out even more than you were before you met him. You friends joked that you were alive from the dead, since you had chosen nights in with Rafe over social events for so many months. 

You were dancing at the same club where you met Rafe so many months earlier. You joined a few of your girls at the bar and waved down the bartender for another drink. 

“...posted on her story,” you leaned in to catch the end of your friend’s sentence. The girls were all leaning over to look at something on one of their phones.

“What are we looking at?” You slurred, already a few drinks deep.

The girl holding the phone told you they were looking at the instagram of a local influencer you all knew of.

You made a fake gagging noise. She was one of the richest girls on the island, infamous among you and your friends for her obnoxiously lavish lifestyle and her overly edited social media pictures.

“Ew, why?” you questioned them, accepting your usual drink from the bartender with a wink.

“Look at what she posted tonight,” your friend holding the phone showed you the screen. 

You studied the photo, your grasp around the cold glass got tighter as you took it in, your knuckles going white. It was a selfie - the girl you couldn't stand all done up in diamonds and red lipstick, gazing up lovingly at Rafe Cameron.

There was no caption, just a little heart-eyes emoji and his instagram tagged.

You never told your friends about you and Rafe. You felt strangely protective over what you had with him, not willing to hear any negative feedback about fucking around with a Kook prince. You knew they wouldn’t understand how perfect and intense your nights with him were. They wouldn’t believe that he was funny, sweet, tender. No one would ever know him like you did.

Like you used to know him. 

You took a sip of your drink and tried to act unaffected by the picture. In reality, your world was crashing around you. You knew he’d find his perfect Kook princess eventually, but you didn’t know it would be so soon, or that it would be her. You half-listened as one of the girls explained that she heard from a mutual friend that they weren’t official yet, but you knew they would be soon enough. Everything would go to plan for him, he’d get everything he ever wanted and you’d just watch through a screen. 

After telling your friends you had a headache, you took a ferry back to the island and walked to your apartment in the dark. It was a questionable choice in this part of town, but you needed the early summer night air to clear your brain. By the time you got back to your apartment you were sober, and yet you still felt like you might throw up.

You ran the shower in your tiny bathroom, letting the steam fill up the space and sink into your pores. The hot water turned your skin red and blotchy, but you couldn’t feel a thing.

BANG BANG BANG.

Your eyes flew open and you turned the faucet off quickly, hands shaking in panic. It was nearly 2 a.m. and someone was pounding on your front door. You wrapped a towel around yourself and padded lightly over the front door. 

“Who is it?” You yelled, trying to sound as menacing as possible.

“It’s me,” a deep voice answered from the other side. You peered into the peephole, even though you didn’t need to see him to know who the voice belonged to.

Rafe stood on the other side, his white button up untucked and his tie loosened. It must be the same outfit he was wearing in the picture.

Your body and brain both paused, unable to process the shock of seeing him standing under your porch light.

“What do you want?” You questioned.

“Can I come in please?” His voice was strained, weak even.

“Why?” You said with a guarded edge to your tone.

“Y/n…” Rafe pleaded.

Despite every instinct you had, you opened the door.

He looked frenzied, his hair tousled, and the hem of his suit pants splattered with mud. He still looked fucking hot, his sleeves rolled up a bit, revealing his muscular forearms.

“What happened to you?” You asked.

“I walked here.” His eyes flickered up and down your figure, taking in the sight of you in just a towel, licking his lips.

Your stomach tightened at the hunger in his eyes, but the pain of the last month burned fresh in your mind. Getting over him was the hardest thing you’ve ever done, and the long, painful process wasn’t even over yet. Seeing that picture tonight was just another sharp spike in the barbed wire he had wrapped around your heart.

“She couldn’t have given you a ride?” You spat at him.

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He didn’t need to ask who you were referring to.

“I asked her not to post that picture, I didn’t want you to see that,” he huffed.

“Why not? I knew it was coming." You summoned the same unbothered tone from the night he left you.

“We’re not-” he stumbled over his words, looking down at his feet. “She isn’t my girlfriend…”

“Yet." You jumped to the end of his sentence for him. His eyes flew up to yours. “But she will be,” you surmised with a sad smile.

He doesn’t disagree with you.

“She’s perfect,” you continue. “Gorgeous, rich, part of your world.” 

He sighs regretfully, both of you recognizing the words he said to you a month earlier.

“I know,” he agrees.

“Then why did you come here?” 

He doesn’t answer you, just clenches his jaw and keeps his eyes firmly locked to yours.

“She’s everything you wanted,” you point out. 

He nods his head in agreement again, “you’re right.”

“So then why are you here?” You repeat.

He cocks his head to the side ever so slightly, blue eyes locked onto your lips.

“‘Cause she’s not you.”

You wish it didn’t make your heart race, wish it didn’t make your stomach flip, and you really wish it didn’t make you let out a small, nearly inaudible gasp. His heavily lidded eyes fogged over with need as he studied your face intently. Your gaze dropped from his eyes, to his lips, to his heaving chest, to his wringing hands. He flexed his fingers anxiously, and you wished you didn’t know what they felt like buried inside of you.

Your mind was racing, a million thoughts and most of them were warnings. You knew how this ends, the morning would come and he wouldn't be there. And a year from now they’ll be married and you’ll be haunted by this night. Every self-protective instinct you have left screamed in your head, pleading with you to make the right choice.

You were ready to appease the voices, about to close the door in his face, when his fingers reached towards you and just barely grazed the seam of your towel, tugging slightly with the most restraint you think he’s ever shown. All the noise in your head just stopped. Suddenly there was nothing in the entire world except for the man in front of you.

“Fuck, Rafe,” you breathed out hard and fast before grabbing his face in both of your hands and crashing your lips into his.

He lost it at the sound of his name on your lips and the taste of you on his tongue. His hands landed firmly on your waist, squeezing hard. His lips parted yours and his tongue invaded your mouth, hot and greedy. His hands slipped to your lower back, caging you into him with a flex of his biceps. You let out the sweetest little grunt as you jumped up, your arms and legs wrapping around him so he could carry you.

With you in his arms, he walked into your apartment. Still kissing him, you reached out and slammed the door closed. He let go of you with one hand to reach back and turn the lock, a sign of strength as he held up your whole body with one arm like you weigh nothing. He walked you both through your small apartment, not needing to look where he’s going to find your bedroom.

He bent low to drop you on the bed, you released your grip around his shoulders just long enough for him to roughly rip his shirt open and pull it off. He was back on top of you in seconds, lifting you up to scoot you both up to the top of the mattress. 

As his lips moved to your neck, you realized you’re already falling back into your old patterns, with Rafe controlling the tempo and doing most of the work. The familiarity made you anxious, you had gotten so addicted to the way he commanded your body and you weren’t sure you’d survive another detox. When he started rolling his hips against you, you could feel how hard and ready he was under his slacks, and made a decision.

You reached up behind his head and laced your fingers through his hair, tugging hard to separate his lips from your skin. A gasp passed through his lips at the sensation.

“You want me, baby?” You purred.

His brows furrowed, but he was too desperate to play games.

“So badly,” he admitted.

“You want to be inside of me?”

His eyes rolled back slightly at the sound of your dirty words. When he didn't answer, you arched your back and pressed up into his aching cock, letting the towel open just enough to expose your bare core, your wetness soaking into the soft fabric of his pants.

“I need it,” he groaned. “Need to feel your pussy around me again.”

At this confession, you released his hair and pressed against his chest to roll him onto his back, straddling him. You kissed him again, just as fevered as before. While your mouth clashed with his, your hands undid his belt and he lifted his hips to allow you to pull his slacks down, leaving him in his snug briefs. You bit his lip, smiling smugly when he moaned. You licked a stripe up his neck, loving the salty taste, Rafe already sweaty from how worked up you’ve got him.

You kiss up his neck, until your mouth is pressed into the shell of his ear.

You whispered, “Does she feel as good as me?”

Rafe said your name in warning, clearly not wanting to talk about her while you were on top of him like this.

You pulled his earlobe between your teeth and bit down, making him wince, pleasured by the pain.

“Answer me,” you demanded.

“N-no,” he stuttered as you pressed your hips down hard, your now dripping pussy sliding over the outline of his cock. 

You sat up straight, and he tried to follow you, his head lifting from the pillow, but you laid your hand softly on his chest and pushed him back down.

Rafe watched as you slowly open the towel and dropped it to the floor, revealing yourself completely. He lifted his hands subconsciously, reaching for your tits. You grabbed his wrists and held his hands back, just inches from your skin. 

“Does she make you as hard as I do?” You said with another circle of your hips.

He shook his head back and forth rapidly, relenting to your game. You lowered one of his hands, raising your hips off of him slightly, one more question in mind. 

He inhaled sharply as you dragged his hand against your pussy, his fingers instinctively rubbing with the perfect pressure.

“Does she get this wet for you, baby?”

“Fuck,” he grunted through clenched teeth, “No.”

You leaned back over him, lips hovering over his, your breath intertwined.

“Then fuck me like you’ll never be able to fuck her.”

Rafe’s restraint snapped in half and he flipped you on your back. He ripped his briefs down with one hand, while the other ran over your calf and brought it to his shoulder.

He filled you like only he can, like he was tailor made for you. You clenched around him hard as he pounded into you, eventually lifting your other leg so you could dig your heels into his shoulder. No more words were exchanged, the ecstasy and exertion and emotion all too intense for either of you to form words. 

This is it, you told yourself, tomorrow he’ll belong to her. 

The tops of your thighs pressed into your stomach as he bottomed out over and over again. You hoped he would think the water in your eyes was just a result of the pressure. He must've noticed it though, because he threaded his fingers with yours to soothe you, pressing his forehead against your temple, and panting desperately into your ear.

It only took a few more strokes for you both to come. The last time you heard his voice, he was crying out your name. He filled you completely, and you were still dripping with him when he climbed off of you, pulled his clothes on wordlessly, and left.

You laid still for a long while. No tears came to you this time, a bitter acceptance washing over you. 

He’s gone for good now, leaving you with another wild story to tell and freeing you to throw yourself into the next adventure. And he’ll have a picture perfect life, with the perfect girl.

You both got exactly what you wanted…

…right?

˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚

part 2

[fclk-lores]

my man my man my man ⋆ ˚｡⋆ </3 !!

[likedovesinthewindd]

Art has sensitive ears, and it's something you discovered by accident very early on in your relationship. You had kissing at his neck, littering the area with wet kisses and pretty pink hickeys when you placed one to that special spot just behind his ear. This alone was enough to already have him writhing in pleasure, gripping at the fat of your hips as you sat on his lap, but before you pulled back completely you placed a soft chaste kiss to his earlobe that had his whole body shuddering in your grasp as he let a soft breathy moan.

So since then, when you'd play with his hair, your hands would sometimes migrate to gently play with his earlobe out of habit when he'd lay with his head in your lap. And every time you did, his whole body would shiver involuntarily, and his head would duck away from your hand. When he wrapped his arms around you in an embrace, you'd place your head into the crook of his shoulder and breathe in his cologne, nose running up the expanse of his neck before it playfully yet lovingly rubbed against his ear. And when you were on top of him clinging onto his broad shoulders as he thrusted up into you at a steady and toe curling pace, you would place soft wet kisses to his neck before biting and sucking at his earlobe as moans still escaped your mouth right into his ear. And before you know it, you'd hear a guttural moan that instantly had heat pooling in your lower stomach, and Art's pace would increase until he was grabbing onto any part of your soft body as he reached his peak.

[ohimsummer]

meangirl! utahime, fuming and jealous as her girlfriend, bully! shoko, and best friend, bully! yuki, take turns with you.

she holds up her phone, zooming in on your tear-stained face and scoffing as shoko plunges her strap into you again and again, pulling another toe-curling orgasm out of you. utahime casts you a seething glare, stricken with disdain and utter disgust that her girlfriend would give someone as pathetic and miserable as you a second glance, let alone bend you over and fuck you. you’re nowhere near deserving of what shoko has to offer.

yuki sits nearby in the desk chair to catch her breath, stroking the rubber length between her legs as she awaits her next turn. the scene is hot, lewd, the way shoko slams into you hard enough to send ripples throughout your ass, and those cute little cries you let out when one of them gives the skin another slap.

utahime yanks at your hair whenever your face is too deep in the pillows, instructing you on whatever filthy name to call yourself next. and you have no choice but to comply unless you want utahime to let her filthy mouth loose and insult you to tears again, or shove mean fingers down your throat until you’re gagging and wretching around them.

“say it.” utahime squeezes your cheeks between her fingers, digging sharp nails into your face. and tells you again. “loud, so yuki can hear, too.”

your tears and whimpers don’t phase her, they never do, only serving to make you look even more like a weak and dumb little puppy-dog.

“i— i’m jus-just—,” the words come out raspy and broken through constant, heaving sobs, “—shoko’s stupid c—cockwhore…”

utahime sneers at your “confession”. she turns away, content at your humiliation for now, and goes to send the new video to their secret little group chat.

@anthoosies @staryukis @teddybeartoji @bubblez-blop @deepenthevoid @luvvmae @risuola @bunnymacaron

[peppertoastuniverse]

pep reads: gojo satoru – long fics (pt.1)

Part 2

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ

☆ the way you love me by @peachsayshi [AO3/tumblr] [status: ongoing ◦ 29/? chapters] [smut!] [fwb!gojo] #pep's first fic she was OBSESSED with #real good good smut WITH FEELINGS

“We can stop anytime. If either one of us feels like... this ...might be too much. We stop, no questions .” “We can stop anytime,” Gojo repeated “... and nothing changes between us .” You swallowed hard at his last statement. You may not be able to read his eyes but you could hear it in his voice that he needed reassurance. “No matter what happens, we’ll still be friends...” you replied softly, “now kiss me before I change my mind.”

☆ you and me by tomodachi [AO3: ] [status: completed ◦ 5/5 chapters] [tear jerker] [eventual smut!] #pep cried #gojo just kinda loves you real hard

“Prisoners say the most comical things when their judgment comes,” you tilt your head, lifting a finger before him, “Who are you?"

--- History is written by the winners, Satoru knew this well. It was only when he lost and got sealed inside the Prison Realm he learned how to be weak and find out a long buried truth.

☆ ito by peekamatcha [AO3] [status: ongoing ◦ 48/? chapters] [super slow burn] [shinto elements] #pep DIES with every update #the TWIST in that one chapter omg

You, a former sorcerer now working as a university lecturer, were hoping to maintain your distance with the sorcerer world for an eternity to come. However, with the reappearance of an upperclassmen from a decade ago, you are forced to go on a journey which you would rather sit out of. But somebody must save humanity from the impending apocalypse and apparently the job falls on the shoulders of you two.

It would have been alright had he not been everything you didn’t want to be reminded of. And the sacrifices to be made may be more than what had been bargained for. ☆moonlight by @septembersummer [AO3/tumblr:] [status: completed ◦ 10/10 chapters] [smut!] #pep loves this AU #pep SCREAMED

Gojo Satoru is dying. And no, it's not his fault this time.

The curse which is withering Satoru into an early grave is actually the product of his great, great, great, great, great, great, great grandfather, who had a couple of sons that refused to procreate. And what does a proud, powerful man do when his sons refuse to fuck, and there won't be another heir to the clan?

He curses his own bloodline, of course.

It's only natural that he forces them through some twisted form of sorcery to become uncontrollably, violently attracted to the person they're most genetically compatible with.

It's even better that the curse creates a permanent, unbreakable bond between the two unwilling lovers. That's right, it usually takes more than one fuck to make a baby-- so, why not force them to have twelve?

Satoru wished his ancestor would be resurrected from the grave, just so that he could kill him again. That is, before Satoru inevitably dies.

He's had a good run, he thinks. Now, all he has to do is make sure you don't find out that you can fuck him back to life and try to very stupidly save him from himself.

(here's a spoiler: you do).

☆ a typical family by @literalia [AO3/tumblr] [status: completed? ◦ 32/32 chapters] [non liner narrative] [dad!gojo] #pep absolutely MELTED #slice of life #pep's gojo comfort fic

"satoru. where did you get these kids?"

or

after a six month absence, satoru shows up at your door two little kids following behind. chaos ensues.

☆ and if i cant see by hollowdonut [AO3: ] [status: unknown ◦ 26/? chapters] [slowburn] [eventual smut!] [tw: ptsd] #pep loves the reader's dynamics with gojo!

They say eyes are the window to the soul, but Gojo’s eyes are almost always hidden behind a blindfold. Even when they aren’t, you can never tell what he’s thinking.

You wonder if you should’ve taken that teaching job in Kyoto instead.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ

bonus!

☆ all hail the empress! by @chuluoyi [tumblr/AO3: ] [status: unknown ◦ 1/? chapters] [smut!] #pep loves this AU #but THE END THO? OMGGG you are an empress perfect in every way... until your husband suddenly casts you aside for his expecting mistress. but you won't be dethroned just like that, because the newly coronated western emperor, gojo satoru, sets his sights on you, and thus your revenge against your ex-husband begins...

[luvthegame]

nsfw warning!

you CANNOT wear lingerie around ANAKIN. That man would fuck you in absolutely anything, and the very idea of you wearing something that was made to be enticing to him??? oh yeah, it's ripped. Whether you spend a stupid amount of money on it or not, he doesn't care during the moment. It's in shreds on the floor, and he's pounding your soaking cunt before you can even process it. Sometimes he'll stuff the shredded lingerie in your mouth when you need to keep quiet while he fucks you like a machine. That man is absolutely feral if you put it on, and after a while, there's an unspoken understanding that you just can't wear it around him, unless you wanna be railed all night. after that rule is semi established, if you decide to wear some anyway... you're fucked. he's all over you like a dog in heat. You're sore for a week afterwards. But of course, Anakin's a sweetheart to you when is cock isn't hard as steel. The next day he'd feel bad about ruining your lingerie, especially if it was expensive. He'd probably give you what credits (or money if this is modern) and treat you to a day out. Anakin's aftercare game is as good as his actual sex game is, you're never not well cared for with him. Can't say the same for the lingerie though....

[1-800-hwahui]

driving me crazy

member | bandmate!seungcheol x reader genre | smut, enemies to lovers word count | 1.3k warnings | reader has a vagina and breasts, unprotected sex (reader is on the pill but be safe irl or i'll hit you), name calling (slut, whore, cumslut, cumdump), cumshot, creampie, masturbation (m), mentions of degredation & humiliation, one mention of spanking. this is pure rough hate sex but it gets really soft at the end notes | so i was writing this in @duhnova's inbox to attack her and all of a sudden i checked how much i'd written and it was fuckin,, over a thousand words?? this isn't really a "fic" per se, it's more like a headcanon (there's no dialogue) but i thought it was long enough to share. i don't know where this came from or how it happened but- enjoy! - june 💒

you and seungcheol are in a band together– maybe he's the guitarist and you sing, and since the day the band formed you've had it out for each other. neither of you are willing to give in to what the other wants, even when you both know you're in the wrong. he wants the chords a certain way? nope, because you need them this way so you can sing them. you want to write your own lyrics for this one song? nope, he criticizes every word.

and the tension just keeps growing and growing until one day it boils over and you find yourself underneath him, back pressed against the sofa in his garage after band practice when everyone else has gone and he's fucking you like you're the last person on earth. pushing his lips to your neck to call you filthy names, things he's never wanted to say to your face before; but something about this time, with his cock splitting you open and you fighting to hold back tears of pleasure because like hell you'd let him get that reaction out of you, he can't help but want to tell you how much of a slut you are. you hate each other, yet you'd let him fuck you like this, hm?

and you'd die before you admit it to him or to yourself, but just this one time with him will completely ruin you for anyone else's cock. no matter how hard you try to forget him and how many shitty tinder hookups you suffer through, he's the only thing on your mind every single time you cum. and so finally you give in, and you come back to him, practically begging him to fuck you again, and he'd be more than happy to oblige because you're the only thing that's been on his mind every time he jerks off after you leave practice, his cock throbbing in his fist and milky white cum splattered all over his hands as he realizes he just moaned your name out loud. so at the end of the day maybe you do still hate each other, but damn if you aren't the best sex each other's had.

so despite how much you supposedly hate each other, now that neither of you can deny how insanely horny you are for each other you're fucking all the time. and i mean all the time. of course, it starts out as only after practice in his garage, and occasionally in his car when practices are at your other bandmates' houses. but one day a couple weeks later when he's fucking you in his bed, on his kitchen counter, even in his front doorway because you're both so impatient you can barely keep your hands off one another long enough for him to shut the door, that's when you realize how fucked you are—metaphorically and literally.

if your friends are shocked at the fact that seungcheol, your literal worst enemy, is suddenly driving you home every night, they don't mention it. there's no way they don't know by now, but you won't hear a peep out of them, because in practices, you're actually… managing to get along with cheol now. it turns out that having the roughest, nastiest (aka best) sex of your life with the man you hate most is doing wonders to relieve the tension between you two; so much so that the only arguments you can muster with him are about how the color of his new guitar looks ugly compared to his old one, or that your singing would be better if you actually looked at the microphone for once instead of looking at him.

by day you're cooperating enough to make music together for once, and by night you're getting fucked like the cumslut you are, cheol slapping your ass and roughly handling your hips into place so he can push into you even deeper so you can feel him completely filling you.

and after a while, you can't even remember the reason why you hated him in the first place. because maybe the tension between you two was just sexual tension all along. getting dicked down like a whore makes you happy, and having his own personal cumdump makes him happy. it's a win for everybody.

one day he's fucking you in his bed after a really successful practice and it's... unusually soft. he's not calling you filthy names or humiliating you for how hard you came from just his fingers. he's holding you so close, praising you for how well you always take his thick cock, squeezing around him so perfectly, so warm and wet and tight just for him and him alone. he's not calling you "his hole" or telling you to crawl across the floor and beg him to allow you to suck his cock. his words come out no more a soft growl by your ear, low moans scattered in between the praises.

and that's the first time you let him cum inside you. you're on the pill and you've both been tested so there's been no reason for him to use a condom any of the times you've been together, but he's always pulled out to cum on your back, your pussy, your stomach, or his favorite place– your face. 

but this time when you feel his thrusts start to stutter and he begins to let go of you to slip out of your aching cunt, you just wrap your legs around his waist and pull him back in, whimpering and pleading for him to stay inside, to cum inside, to fill you up and claim you as his. and he can barely stop himself from cumming on the spot as he stumbles into the hardest orgasm of his entire life, spurting rope after rope of liquid into you.

and afterwards, when you're both laying there panting, stuck in a post-orgasmic haze as it begins to dawn on you what just happened, he does something that makes you doubt any of this was even real in the first place, that it was all a dream and you haven't actually been having sex with him on almost a daily basis for nearly the last month. because the seungcheol you know, the seungcheol you hate, would never say this. the seungcheol you used to hate would never own up to anything, would argue about anything and anything and refuse to apologize for his words, no matter how hurtful.

at least, that's what you thought. because now you've realized you never actually hated him, not even before you two were involved like this. you would argue for the sake of arguing just like he would, because that's all you knew how to do around him.

you didn't yet know this side of him; not just the side that makes you cum over and over and refuses to stop until you have to pry his mouth off of your pussy, but the side of him that always gives you rides home, even when the night doesn't end in sex. the side of him that lets you use his shower to clean up afterwards and always leaves a stack of fresh towels out for you that you can tell he warmed up in the dryer. the side of him that, even the first time when you hated each others' guts, asked if it was okay to do something before he did it, because even though he can't stand you, he doesn't want to hurt you intentionally.

so you're laying there on his bed, and he holds you tighter, burying his face into the crook of your neck, and he sighs. and for the first time ever, he says,

"i'm sorry."

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[restwellsoon]

A Circle of Salt | Fic Cover

Minors and ageless blogs, DO NOT interact.

Pairing: Shouto Todoroki x F!Reader

Summary: With the end of the Great War and his father’s death, Prince Shouto must find his and his kingdom’s place in a rapidly changing world. As a result, the Todoroki Kingdom has finally opened its doors to its neighbors after centuries of isolation. You see this as an opportunity to not only advance in your career as a lowly government aid but to also take advantage of the tropical island as your new office space.

However, with the nobility working to maintain their status quo, there’s another reason why it may be difficult for you and Shouto to achieve your goals – the prince seems to have misunderstood what sort of partnership you seek with him.

Marriage. Proposal. Betrothal.  Marriage. Proposal. Betrothal. Marriage. Proposal. Betrothal. Heat rose to your cheeks, mimicking the tropical sun. Worse than mishearing, you realized that there was a terrible, terrible misunderstanding between you and Shouto. You weren’t sure how to tell your superior that the fate between the two nations was unknown, but at least you knew that relations between the prince and yourself were solid.

Tags: fantasy AU, royalty AU, arranged marriage, miscommunications, romance, smut, Todoroki family drama

Status | in progress!

Read it here on AO3!

Return to

Curated Masterlists

Todoroki Masterlist

[murdrdocs]

ethan's world !

☼ fluff ☽ smut (16+) ☁︎ suggestive ⛈ dark content (17+) full masterlist

note: fem! and gn! labels are given based on the use of pronouns and anatomy; fem! fics use 'she/her' or labels such as 'girl' as well as explicit afab anatomy, GN! has no use of gendered pronouns or labels and anatomy is ambigious

ethan gives you a call as ghostface ⛈ ☁︎ fem!

ethan has a dark look in his eyes, but you like it that way ☁︎ GN!

ethan landry is your proclaimed enemy, but he's pretty hot GN!

nothing quite like having a boyfriend who'll murder for you ☁︎ GN!

you're ethan's dream girl ☁︎ fem!

ethan needs you to see just how good you look when you're being fucked ☽ fem!

you teach ethan how to kiss ☼ fem!

"no, no, no, you sweet, dumb thing" ☽ fem!

ethan loves being your boyfriend, of course he has to brag GN!

ethan's clingy, you love it ☼ GN!

you and ethan get in an argument, sex is the best apology ☽ GN!

ethan's your pookie wookie ☼ GN! blk coded

as ghostface, ethan has a massive confidence boost ⛈ ☽ GN!

someone hurts you, so ethan hurts them ⛈ GN!

your bestfriend, ethan, confesses his feelings ☼ GN!

being a meeks-martin and dating ethan ☼ GN!

ethan's a pussy whipped perv ☁︎ fem!

mean!ethan likes edging you ☽ fem!

ethan's a munch ☽ fem!

you take ethan's virginity, satisfied to hear his whimpers ☽ GN!

ethan cries during sex, you love it ☽ GN!

mean!ethan has a corruption kink ⛈ ☽ fem!

ethan hates you so much that he loves you ⛈ GN!

ethan gives into your teasing sexts ☽ GN!

you and ethan are both subs, that'll work ☽ GN!

ethan eats you out while you game for him ☽ fem!

you teach ethan how to finger you ☽ fem!

ethan cums in your underwear before class ☽ fem!

your student, ethan, is a bit of a creep ☽⛈ fem!

you're tired, mindy accuses you of being gf, ethan denies ☼ GN!

you're kinkier than ethan expects, he is too dense to notice ☁︎

about ethan's porn twitter account ☁︎

about rafe cameron and ethan tag teaming you ☁︎ GN!

"my lipstick's smudged" with ethan ☼ GN!

ethan helps you, and watches bluey, during your period GN!

you tell ethan about your CNC kink ☁︎ ⛈ GN!

ethan's obsessed with your tits ☁︎ GN!

NSFW! alphabet w/ ethan ☁︎⛈ fem!

you have to take care of a "baby" with ethan GN!

you catch ethan jerking off with your panties ☽ GN!

ethan helps you fall asleep w/ oral ☽ fem!

before ethan can be gf with you, he has to lose his virginity ☽ fem!

protective softdom!ethan and bimbo!reader ☼ fem!

bimbo!reader finds ethan's gf mask ☁︎ ethan tutoring bimbo!reader

ethan's taller than you and likes to remind you constantly ☼ GN!

ethan can't keep his hands off of you in public ☽ fem!

ethan thinks you're so pretty when you're overstimulated ☽ fem!

professor landry has a thing for one of his students ☁︎ GN!

ethan is superrrr clingy GN!

more about clingy ethan ☼ even more abt clingy ethan ☼

st post demogorgan scene but with ethan fem! ☼

going against rules, you and camp counselor!ethan fuck ☽

headcannons for camp counselor!ethan ☁︎

ethan is so boyfriend you take to prom GN! ☼

studying with ethan ... but not much studying GN!

ethan helps you with panic attacks GN! ☼

ethan in different romcoms GN! ☼

weirdly enough, your boyfriend says he'll kill for you ? GN! ⛈

ethan makes you clean his knife GN! ⛈

perv!ethan fem!⛈

ethan relates to 'she' by tyler, the creator fem! ⛈

dating quinn but her brother has a thing for you fem! ☁︎

ethan mocks your moans when you're overstimulated fem! ☽

teasing ethan for the hell of it GN! ☁︎

mean!ethan gives head for his own pleasure fem! ☽

being the youngest meeks-martin and fooling around with ethan GN! ☼

being ghostface, and crazy, with ethan GN! ☁︎ ⛈

'kill bill' from your pov towards ethan GN! ☁︎ ⛈

ethan is too shy to ask for sex GN! ☁︎

ethan walks you home fem! ☽

about ethan's attitude GN! ☽

stepbro!ethan masterlist ⛈

[junkissed]

i think that jun would love it if you put on your prettiest and shortest skirt just to ride his cock, it would be the only thing you have on as he coos about how pretty you look at fucked out and covered in his cum as he guides your hips to keep going - his fingers bunching in the fabric of the skirt as he hates his neck to you, allowing you to mark up and suck on his adams apple.

why are you insane. literally this is so mean to me i cant believe. this is despicable.

word count — 813 warnings — reader has a vagina and breasts, reader wears a skirt, est. relationship, scandalous lunch activities, fingering, multiple orgasms, marking, creampie

“fuck, look at you— so pretty, baby,” jun groans, his grip on your waist tightening as he moves your hips in circles on his cock.

earlier you’d gone out to have a nice lunch with friends, but it had been anything but nice once jun’s hands had started to creep up your thighs underneath the table, eager fingertips dancing along the hem of your too-short skirt.

you knew you wouldn’t be able to hide the heat that was creeping up into your cheeks if he continued doing what he wanted, so you’d caught his hand and squeezed hard, giving him a warning glare. luckily he’d stopped until the meal was over, but as soon as you were in his car his fingers were buried inside you and you were clutching the armrest of your seat for dear life, gasping as he fucked you through two orgasms that made your legs feel like jelly.

once you’d gotten home, you were determined to give him a taste of his own medicine by riding him on the couch, but soon it was you who was falling apart on his lap while he didn’t even seem phased.

he lets go of your hips, his hands traveling upwards to tug your shirt down beneath your boobs. but evidently he’s stronger than he thinks, because the thin fabric tears easily under his touch. you whine as he rips the rest of the shirt off and lets it fall to the floor beside you, but he doesn’t miss the way you greedily clench around his cock at the action.

he doesn’t respond, just pulls you down harder onto his lap, his hips thrusting up to match the movement and creating more force as he fucks into you.

his fingers wander across your exposed chest, pinching at your nipples before wrapping his arms around your back and pulling you towards him. with his mouth level with your breasts, he looks up at you through his eyelashes and takes one of your breasts in his mouth. his eyes stay glued to yours, carefully watching your open-mouthed expression. 

you move your hands from his shoulders up to his head, threading your fingers through his hair and pulling sharply. he moans into your skin as you push his face harder against your chest, and suddenly his mouth leaves your breast with a pop as he pulls his head away for a moment.

“you gonna cum all over me, sweetheart?” he asks, his thrusts never faltering as he bounces you on his cock. his hands fall back down to your hips, balling them into fists around the fabric of your skirt. “gonna cum on my cock like a good girl?” 

“y-yes, jun, please,” you gasp out, your fingers still firmly settled in his hair.

he smirks, that stupidly hot grin of his, and leans his head back against the back of the couch, exposing his neck. “go on, baby. mark me up. and then, you get to cum.”

without a second of hesitation you lean down over him, pushing your lips against his adam’s apple. you can feel the vibrations from his low groans against your mouth, and it only spurs you on to suck harder, your teeth gently grazing his skin as you tug on his hair.

you can feel his cock throbbing inside you, buried so deep you can feel every miniscule movement he makes, and it sends jolts of pleasure rushing through you every time his hips snap roughly into you. 

“fuck, you feel so fucking good,” he hisses when you bite down particularly hard at the base of his neck. it was an accident from how hard and how fast he’s moving you up and down, but neither of you mind at all. 

his orgasm hits him almost out of nowhere, spilling into you as he holds your hips firmly in place while he cums. you continue rolling your hips on your own, fucking him through his high as you keep sucking bruises into his neck. 

you can’t see for yourself but you’re sure his eyes are scrunched tightly shut and brows knit together the way they do when he cums. after making him cum so many times over the years the image of his face is ingrained in your mind, and just that thought alone is enough to send you over the edge after him. 

eventually you start to come down from your orgasm and you fall over onto his shoulder, both of you breathing heavily. he lets out a long, slow exhale and opens his eyes, settling on your figure hunched over his lap. he puts his arms around you and pulls you close, gently lifting you off of his softening cock and letting you roll over onto the couch beside him.

you giggle, finally catching your breath. “so… i take it i should wear skirts more often, then.”

drabble taglist | @wonderfulshinee @noniestars @onlymingyus @just-here-to-read-01 @wonuziex @enhacolor @yourfavoritefreakyhan @dkakapizzaboy @skzzooyaaa

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[atomic-raunch]

June Palmer

[whytheylosttheirminds]

june gloom - part 2: is this gonna end ever?

(Rafe Cameron x pogue!reader, 6.9k words)

part 1

summary: Six months after Rafe walked out of your life, you're finally picking up the shattered pieces he left in his wake. When you accidentally find yourself working at his wedding, your thrown right back into the chaos you thought you were free from.

content: angst/smut, 18+ minors do not interact!, mentions of alcohol abuse and drugs, mentions of cheating, what could be considered infiedelity

a/n: as a fair warning, the angst only gets worse in this one. however, I promise the third and final part will see a satisfying and happy ending for these two if you stick with me. also, this one got wordy, but after struggling with it for a while i'm very happy with how it turned out. thank you to this anon for inspo and for everyone's support on pt. 1.

₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊

Crickets chirped a chorus around you as you laid back on the flannel blanket, the grass beneath making a soft pillow for your head. Your lips wrapped around the blunt, lungs expanding to welcome the smoke. You hummed in pleasure as the high-end strain went down way smoother than any of the trash you would usually get on The Cut.

“God, this is good shit,” you said with a lazy smile.

“Only the best for you,” Rafe smirked, leaning over on the blanket to pull the joint from your lips so he could join in your revelry.

He took a long drag and let it go in a smoke ring that rose above you and disappeared into the starry sky. You tried and failed to stifle your laugh.

“What’s funny?” He asked, eyes glazed over with his high.

“Nothing,” you chuckled. “Just…what frat house did you learn that in?”

“Shut up,” he teased back, making you laugh harder.

“No, I’m sure the sorority girls found that very sexy,” you continued.

“They did actually, thank you,” he joked. “You would’ve too.”

“Yeah right, I’d make a great Phi Beta Whateverthefuck,” you huffed sarcastically.

“Did you go to college?” He asked.

You’d known Rafe for about three months, spending nearly every night together since you first met at that club. You had talked about just about everything under the sun except yourselves, you were caught off-guard by this excavation into your history.

“Um, no,” you answered, taking the blunt back from him.

“Why not?”

You shrugged, taking another hit, “didn’t wanna.”

“Do you regret it?” He continued.

You sat up and pulled your knees to your chest, looking down at him with a frown.

“What?” He questioned.

“Why the sudden interest?” You said, harsher and less playful than you’d intended to.

Rafe sat up next to you, pulling his knees towards himself to mirror you. His eyes were intense on your face as he mumbled, “you don’t want me to get to know you?”

Truthfully, you wanted that and so much more, but you couldn’t tell him that. You knew this was just a way for him to pass the time until he could get you in bed again, and maybe you were okay with that. You decided you’d entertain the line of questioning, just this once, not knowing then that this was just the first of many deep, meaningful conversations you’d share with him.

You took a deep breath and said, “what do you want to know?”

He looked up at the stars as he considered the answer to that question. You took the opportunity to admire the way the moonlight reflected off of the sharp angle of his jaw.

He decided on “what’s your biggest dream?”

You bit your lip and looked down at your bare feet, digging them into the blanket, not used to this kind of conversation and yet feeling curiously comfortable opening up to him.

“I want to go to India,” you answered honestly. “I read a book when I was a kid about a little girl who grew up in India and I’ve wanted to go ever since.”

Rafe nodded in approval, “that’s a good one. You should go.”

“Yeah, as soon as I win the lottery, it’ll be my first stop,” you joked bitterly.

“Or I could just take you,” he shrugged.

You smiled at him, incredulous. 

“What?” He asked, genuinely unsure of the meaning behind the look you were giving him. You realized he might actually be serious, even though you knew it would never really happen.

“Nothing. That’s sweet,” you smiled. “But I want to get there on my own. I wanna earn it.”

“I can respect that,” he conceded. 

“Anytime you wanna lend me that private jet, though, just hit me up,” you teased.

Rafe chuckled, eyebrows raised, “oh I see…you’re using me.”

“I thought that was obvious,” you smiled coyly. 

“Uh-huh,” Rafe said, playfully shoving your shoulders so you fell back onto the blanket. 

You giggled as he climbed over you, caging you in between his arms as he held himself up, looking down at you, tucked perfectly beneath him.

“I think I’m okay with that.”

He leaned down and kissed you, his tongue sweeping over your bottom lip tenderly, lowering himself down until you were chest to chest…

“Are you listening to me?”

Your friend waved her hand in front of your face, trying to get your attention.

“Sorry, what?” You were pulled from your thoughts.

“I said they want us there at four this friday,” she showed you an email on her phone.

“Oh,” you blinked, coming back to the moment. “Where is it?”

“Some mansion on Figure 8. It’s a wedding, but they're doing like a whole weekend thing, so it’s Friday through Sunday. Last time I worked one of these I made over five hundred.”

When she first told you about the catering gig this weekend, you turned her down. You’d been carefully avoiding the north part of the island for the last six months, and a whole weekend would be a high-risk endeavor. However, you didn’t have to check your bank account to know you were near broke, and Figure 8 was where the real money was made. You agreed and ironed your white button down and black slacks, your go-to outfit for catering gigs.

As you pulled up to the address your friend had sent you, you cursed under your breath. The estate was huge, the old house immaculately kept and towering proudly under a crystal blue sky. You turned down the radio as your beat up car sputtered its way up the long, grand drive.

“We’re definitely not on the south side anymore,” you joked to yourself. 

You pulled around back to the service entrance as directed by your friend’s text and tracked her down in the crowd of other blue collar workers. Everyone was moving quickly, arranging the massive party space according to the wishes of some unseen bride and groom. 

You were put to work right away, polishing silverware and arranging it as instructed by the very specific, color-coded diagram you had been given. Tonight was only the rehearsal dinner, and there were two-hundred names on the guestlist. You chatted with your friend as you did various other chores, speculating about who could possibly be the owner of this massive property.

“Maybe it’s a crime lord,” your friend joked. “Like some mafia type shit.”

“Maybe it’s a celebrity,” you guessed. 

You didn’t have to wonder for long. 

“Hey! A little help here!” A delivery driver called to you as he struggled to lift something large and rectangular out of his truck, the mystery item protected with a large, black sheet.

You ran over to give him a hand, and he directed you to a big easel he had set out, “picture of the happy couple,” he explained. You called your friend over, informing her you were about to have all your questions answered.

Once you had set the canvas down, you asked the delivery driver if you could remove the sheet. “I don’t give a fuck, my job’s done,” he said, hopping back in his truck and driving off. You and your friend giggled as you did a little countdown and drumroll routine. You pulled the sheet away and her mouth fell open

“Of fucking course,” she immediately took out her phone to take a picture.

You stepped back to look at the giant, blown up portrait. Every muscle in your body tensed and the blood drained from your face, you grabbed the back of a nearby chair for support. 

There on the oversized canvas, smiling that perfect, crooked, arrogant, beautiful smile, was Rafe Cameron.

He had his arm around the woman you recognized to be the one he’d left you for, calling off your whirlwind love affair in pursuit of something more optically appealing to his family. He’d found it; they were gorgeous together.

Six months had passed since you’d last seen him. The first few months were the hardest you’d ever faced. At first, you went out almost every night, needing to stay shitfaced to keep your mind from wandering to him or your fingers from dialing his number. Eventually, you had to delete him from your phone, not trusting yourself in those late night moments when you missed him so much you thought you might die. No amount of booze or weed could make you forget the feeling of his hands on your body, the sound of his voice, the look in his eyes when he fucked you that last time. Your friends started getting worried. You blacked out so often, you couldn’t keep a job. After three or four months of your reckless behavior, they called a sort of intervention and convinced you to calm down. 

You decided if you were going to be alone, you’d make yourself good company. 

You stopped drinking, and even gave up cigarettes. It took several false starts, but the patch got you through it. You picked up good habits, too, starting your mornings with yoga and meditation. You were planning to go back to school, tired of career-hopping through dead-end minimum wage jobs. You stopped eating take out so much, started grocery shopping and saving every spare cent you had for a travel fund. You even cut and dyed your hair, finding freedom in the ability to change whenever you wanted, in the fluidity of answering to no one but yourself. You were still untamed, but for the first time in your life, you felt a semblance of control. You decided you’d build a beautiful life even if you had to scratch and claw your way to it. And you’d do it all by yourself.

Slowly, and with the most effort you’d given anything ever, you were finally starting to get over Rafe Cameron.

Or so you thought. Now, standing in his backyard, decorating for his wedding, you felt like you were right back where you were that night in June, lying naked on your bed while he walked out of your life forever.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” A high-pitched, angry voice startled you, pulling your eyes away from the picture.

You whipped your head around to see her, even more stunning than she was in pictures, her wide Disney-princess eyes shooting daggers at you. Your first and most irrational thought was that she somehow knew who you were. The delusion of that concept was quickly made apparent.

“The picture was supposed to stay covered until tonight,” she barked at you and your friend, who looked at you with wide-eyed panic. “Aren’t you the fucking caterers? Why are you even out here?”

“S-sorry,” you stammered out, your mind reeling as it tried to connect to your reality. You picked up the sheet off the ground. “We’ll cover it back up.”

“No, don’t touch it! Where’s your manager?” She demanded, her hands on her hips. “They need to know about this. What are your names?”

Your friend looked at you with wide eyes, you knew she needed this job even more desperately than you did. Plus, she’d stuck her neck out to get you hired and now she’d lose the money and her credibility.

“It was me,” you blurted out. “Not her. Don’t worry, you don’t need to get anyone fired, I’ll just leave.”

It wasn’t a big sacrifice, considering you were already thinking if you stayed another minute you might have a full blown panic attack. At least if you threw yourself under the bus and got fired, your friend would have no reason to question why you ran from the property crying.

“Fine, whatever,” she dismissed your act of loyalty with a wave of her manicured hand while your friend looked at you with grateful eyes. “What’s your name then?”

“Don’t worry about it,” you handed her the sheet, which she snatched from your hands irritably. “I’ll just go.”

You tried to keep your composure as you walked back toward the house, praying you’d remember your way back to your car. Your heart was pounding, your anxiety and shock threatening to bubble over, you could feel tears springing up and your hands shaking.

You rounded one of the many corners of the massive house, finally out of her line of vision, and broke into a sprint. You passed through another courtyard, where more preparations were underway. There were far too many eyes on you. If you remembered correctly, there was only one more turn before the part of the property you were parked on.

Dirt crunching under your feet, you slid around the corner and straight into something hard and large. You let out a sharp “ouch” as your face burned with the force of the collision. To your horror, you realized you’d run into a person. You kept your eyes low, looking at the man’s feet as you held a hand over your face, wondering for a moment if you’d broken your nose. Then, a familiar scent flooded your senses, and you felt a large hand rest on your shoulder. 

“Woah, I’m sorry, are you okay?” Rafe’s voice asked, clearly unaware of who he was talking to, you looked so different than you did six months ago.

You raised your wide eyes to look at him, hand still cradling your throbbing nose. You took him in through rapidly blinking lashes, begging yourself not to cry. His face shifted slowly from concern for a stranger to recognition of someone all too familiar.

He pulled his hand from you in shock, his mouth opening and closing and opening again, trying to form words that just weren’t coming. You knew you needed to get out of there before they did.

“I’m fine,” you said firmly, hoping he understood you were talking about more than just your injured face.

You sidestepped him and kept running, leaving him standing wide eyed and ashen faced as he watched you get into your car and peel away from his home, and away from him. 

₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊

The key rattled against the lock, your hands shaking as you tried to get into your apartment. When you finally got the door opened, you peeled off your clothes quickly, as if they were covered in something radioactive. You pulled on a tank and some sleep shorts, fully ready to get in bed and stay there for days. Everything in you was unraveling. The sight and sound of him undoing the steel backbone you had built for yourself. You climbed under the covers, curled into a ball, and sobbed.

You cried so hard, it knocked you out. Without trying to, your body fell into a hazy, uneasy kind of sleep, haunted by images of Rafe. When you woke, blinking confusedly at the fuzzy outline of the time on your alarm clock, it was dark outside. The clock read 11:03pm. You pulled yourself from your bed with a groan, craving something to comfort you in your post-meltdown emptiness.

As you stood at the sink, filling the kettle for some tea, your mind replayed the events of the day. He’s getting married tomorrow. The rehearsal dinner that you helped set up for was probably over by now. You pictured him saying goodnight to her with a kiss, hanging his tux for the morning, making sure he had the rings ready. You already knew you’d lost him, but the permanence of tomorrow’s events felt like a boot on the neck of the small part of you that still wondered what if.

Your phone rang out loudly on the kitchen table, making you jump, so startled you almost dropped the tea kettle, the water now overflowing. You set the kettle down on the stove and turned on the burner before looking at your phone screen, which read “unknown number.” You hit decline and let it go to voicemail. After a minute, you poured your tea and sat at the table, watching as your phone lit up again with notification of a new voicemail. You unlocked it and pressed play.

You knew the voice immediately, though it was coming out slurred and strained. You clutched the phone to your ear with both hands to hear better.

“Heyyyy baby. It’s me. I’m sorry for calling so many times, blowin’ up your phone and you’re probably out somewhere, looking fuckin’ gorgeous like always. Shit there’s probably guys lined up to take you home. Do you remember when we met? Fuck you looked so hot. I thought if you said no to going home with me I might literally die. But you said yes! You said yes and you took me home and we, fuck…god…it was so good, you’re so good. Not just the sex. I mean, yes your pussy is so perfect, but…shit it’s raining…but you were- you are…jesus Rafe get it together. I can’t remember what I was saying. I’m so drunk, I- ouch, fuck!- I miss you, baby. It's cold out here but I don’t care, I couldn’t be there anymore. I couldn’t listen to them talk about this fucking wedding. Fucking flowers and table settings and shit I don’t care about any of that…just, please…baby…I need-”

Your phone beeped loudly, the voicemail cut off for length. You replayed it, twice. Outside your kitchen window, you could see the rain getting heavy. The low was in the 30s tonight, and it was supposed to keep raining for hours. You couldn’t hear much in the background behind Rafe’s drunken rambling, but you could tell he was outside. You pictured him stumbling into a ditch somewhere. He had hurt himself on the voicemail, did he fall? You couldn’t stand the thought of him alone, out in the cold rain, hurt.

Despite every instinct, you pulled up the number he called from and texted him.

Today 11:14pm

Where are you?

Today 11:16pm

‘Unknown’ shared their location with you.

You grabbed your coat and keys and ran out the door before you had time to second guess yourself. You found him lying on the beach, his clothes soaked through from the rain that was still falling heavily. He’d clearly thrown up, just a few feet from where he was laying now. You ran to his side and quickly checked that he was breathing.

“Jesus, Rafe,” you recoiled at the overwhelming aroma of booze radiating off of him.

His eyes flew open at the sound of your voice. 

“Baby?” he groaned.

“We gotta get out of here, Rafe,” you struggled to help him up.

With an enormous amount of effort, you got him into your car. He leaned his head against the cold window as you drove, his breath fogging up the glass with each exhale. You looked over at him every few seconds to make sure he was still conscious. 

Once in your apartment, stumbling through the door with his arm over your shoulder, you led him into the bathroom, guiding him to sit on the edge of the tub while you ran the shower, water heating slowly.

You tapped his arms. 

“Up,” you instructed. He lifted his arms obediently and looked up at you through half-lidded eyes as you peeled off his wet polo, doing everything you could to avoid staring at his bare torso.

“Think you can do the rest yourself?” You motioned to his lower half.

“No,” he said with a smirk.

“Rafe,” you warned, not playing around.

“I can do the rest myself,” he said with his hands up in defense. 

You left him in the bathroom fumbling with his belt. While he showered, you brewed a pot of coffee and poured two steaming mugs, sitting uneasily at the table when he finally emerged from the bathroom. He was in only his boxers and you blushed aggressively, as if you hadn’t seen him naked a hundred times before. He caught the redness in your cheeks as you looked down at your hands, swallowing hard.

“Sorry,” he said earnestly. “My clothes are still wet.”

You pushed back your chair and walked to your bedroom, returning with folded clothes in your hands. He looked suspiciously at the men’s t-shirt and basketball shorts you gave him, cocking his eyebrow at you. You just glared back at him, tilting your head slightly as if to say I dare you to give me shit about where I got them. He didn’t push it, pulling them on wordlessly.

“Coffee?” You offered once he was dressed.

“Please,” he slumped into the chair across from you, sipping the coffee with a sigh.

“Feeling better?” You asked.

“Much better, thanks,” he said. “Never mix rum and redbull.”

You snorted, “I could’ve told you that.”

“Well you weren’t there were you?” The sentence started playfully but ended with a bite.

You sipped your coffee, wondering who would be first to acknowledge the elephant in the room. You sat in silence for a few minutes, both drinking your coffee and letting the air grow thick between you.

Finally, he caved and spoke first, “why’d you leave?”

“Why would I stay?” You responded, voice dripping with spite.

“I- I guess I don’t know.” Now it was Rafe avoiding your eyes.

“Does she know…about me?” You asked timidly.

“No,” he mumbled, before sipping up the last drop of his coffee.

“And where does she think you are right now?” 

“My bachelor party.”

“We should get you back there, then.” You stood and collected both mugs, bringing them to the sink.

Rafe scoffed, “you’re kicking me out again?”

“I never kicked you out, Rafe. You left,” you said, clutching the edge of the sink, bracing for an argument.

But he didn’t argue, he just let the silence settle between you for a long moment before finally saying, “I wish I hadn’t. I miss you.”

You turned, expecting to find him still slumped over the table, but he had stood and was now startlingly close. You jolted, squaring your shoulders in defense as he got closer to you.

“Don’t say that,” you pleaded. “I can’t do this with you.”

“Then why’d you come get me?” He asked, his eyelids low as he looked down at you. “Why’d you bring me here?

“Why’d you call me?” You asked back.

“I asked you first,” he said, no playful smile to match his childish words.

“Why does it matter?” You sighed.

“‘Cause it does, it matters to me, please just give me a reason,” his voice grew more desperate as he stepped even closer to you, his looming body caging you against the sink. He searched your face as he waited for you to respond, needing an answer you couldn’t give him.

“Are you gonna marry her?” Your words tightened the tension already growing between you, causing Rafe to close his eyes in frustration.

“I don’t want to talk about her,” he shook his head. 

Rafe lifted his hand slowly, placing it on your waist. He squeezed gently at the soft skin of your side. You leaned into his touch for just a second before coming to your senses.

“Are you? Going to marry her?” You repeated stubbornly.

“Yes,” He said, eyes falling from your face to his hand on your side.

“Then you shouldn’t be touching me,” you grabbed Rafe’s hand and lowered it from you. “I won’t be a mistress. I won’t be that dirty pogue who fucks a married guy, I wanna be something better than that.” 

You slipped out from between him and the sink, pacing to the other side of the room, but his body turned aggressively to follow you.

“You are. You’re so much better,” his voice cracked with urgency as he rushed to reassure you.

You shook your head in anger, raising your voice as you snapped, “then why are you marrying someone else?”

“Because I have to!” He matched your heated tone, as if he was the one to have something to be mad about.

“We’re going in circles, Rafe! We are in the exact same spot we were six months ago! Except I’m a different person now. It changed me, losing you. I got better, I got healthy, I got sober. I got over you!” You were yelling now, searching for the words to make him understand that he wasn’t the only one who had something to lose now.

“Well I didn’t get over you,” he stated simply.

“No, you got engaged,” you pointed out.

“Fuck that, fuck her, you know I don’t love her!” He scoffed. “You saw her today, you know she’s a bitch.”

“That’s really nice, Rafe, you should put that in your vows,” you huffed sarcastically.

“Oh c’mon, she doesn’t love me either,” he rolled his eyes. “She still fucks around, everyone knows it.”

He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, but it took you by surprise. You searched his face for a sign as to whether it was true or just something he made up to make you sympathize with him. The way his eyes fell to the ground and the apples of his cheeks blushed slightly told you it was true, she cheated on him, and he was ashamed of it. It made you sick, the thought of someone having him so close and caring so little. The only thing worse than the thought of her treating him like that was the thought of him accepting it as if it was what he deserved. You should’ve felt sad for him, but it just made you angrier.

“Then why, Rafe? Why?” You knew you were becoming a broken record but you just could not wrap your head around his choice. “Why are you still with her?” You hated the way it made you sound like you were blaming him for her actions, but you needed to understand.

“Because I’m going to have to end up with someone like her anyway, I may as well just get it over with,” he said with a resigned shake of his head.

“That’s fucked up, Rafe,” you said, even though you knew he already knew it.

“It is what it is,” he shrugged, defeated.

Your eyes caught the clock on your stove. It was almost 1am. Rafe was supposed to be saying his vows in twelve hours, and you knew if he stood here in your apartment for another minute, looking at you so helplessly, you’d crumble for him.

“I think you should go home,” you said, trying and failing to mean it.

“Not yet,” Rafe said, his tone implying there was something more he was waiting for.

And even though you wanted to, you just couldn’t give it to him. 

Mustering the last of your pride, you took a deep breath and said, “If you’re waiting for me to ask you not to marry her, we’re both gonna be disappointed. I’ve been doing good, Rafe. I got my life together, and I won’t be responsible for ruining someone else’s. It’s not on me, you have to decide. If you don’t want to marry her, then don’t marry her. But do it for you, because I’ve got me covered.”

Rafe considered your words, standing completely still as they washed over him. He had to choose. He could either ruin his reputation and potentially lose his family to be happy with you or keep the lifestyle he’d grown so accustomed to and be miserable with her. He looked so sad, and you desperately wanted to ask him what he was thinking, but you stayed silent, wanting him to say what he was feeling all on his own for once. You needed a simple answer.

But Rafe Cameron never did anything the simple way.

He didn’t say anything,  he just started walking toward you. Once he was close enough to touch you, and your back was against the wall, he reached up to touch your face gently with one finger, silently asking if you were still in pain from your collision earlier. When you didn’t wince or push him away, he leaned down, bringing his lips dangerously close to yours.

“Just one more time, please. Don’t kick me out, be with me one more time,” he whispered against your skin.

You shook your head slowly, whispering back, “I won’t kick you out, but I also won’t let you touch me and then marry her.”

“Fine, I won’t touch you.” 

Rafe leaned back, only slightly, pulling his face away so you were level with his chest. He folded his hands behind his back to show you he meant it. You could smell his familiar musk, his chest so close to your face you could hear his heartbeat as you looked up at the pulsing veins in his neck. His hair, still wet from the shower, flopped messily over his forehead. A single drop fell from his bangs and landed on your collarbone. Rafe’s eyes darkened as he tracked the droplet rolling across your exposed skin, down your chest, over the curve of your tits and finally disappearing into your tank top.

Eyes locked to Rafe’s, you lifted your hand slowly, placing it over the spot the water had fallen, sliding your fingers delicately down the drop’s path. When you reached the neckline of your tank top, Rafe’s eyes consuming every movement, you reached up with your other hand and lowered one of the straps of your top slowly. You dragged your hand down further, cupping your breast through your lacy bralette and biting your lip at the pressure.

Rafe’s jaw clenched. He put one hand on the wall next to your head to steady himself, bringing his body impossibly closer while still not touching you. His other hand fell to his side, moving dangerously close to his dick.

“You better not touch yourself either, or I swear to god I’ll stop,” you warned him.

“Don’t stop,” He brought the drifting hand up to the wall on the other side of your head. “Please, baby.”

Butterflies erupted in your stomach at his voice, raspy and strained with need. With two hands on the hem of your shirt, you pulled it slowly over your head, leaving you in just the see-through undergarment. 

“Take that off too,” Rafe tried to sound dominant, but his voice cracked, betraying him.

“You’re not in any position to make demands,” you scolded with a shake of your head. “And you’re not going to see me naked. You have a fianceé for that.”

Rafe was pained by this, his nostrils flailing as he clenched his jaw in frustration. You ignored him and put your hands back on your body, palming both of your tits again before trailing lower over your stomach. Rafe’s tongue darted out of his mouth and licked his lips as he watched the way your stomach flexed with anticipation, hands finally landing on the waistband of your sleep shorts. One hand pulled the elastic back while the other slid beneath it slowly. When your fingers ran over the fabric of your panties, teasing your clothed clit, your head fell back against the wall and your jaw fell slack. Rafe ran one of his hands through his hair as he watched pleasure flood your face, desperate to touch something, anything. The hand still on the wall closed into a fist. You started rubbing circles over your clit through your panties, the fabric already soaked through, wet since the sight of him in his boxers. Your breath hitched when you found the perfect rhythm and you closed your eyes tight, a melodic moan rising from your throat.

“Fuck baby, you’re so fucking sexy,” Rafe growled through gritted teeth.

Your eyes flew open and you pulled your hand from your shorts, suddenly very aware of the lack of space between you and the vulgarity of what you were doing. You slid under his arm and hurried to the other side of the kitchen.

“You should go,” you whispered, wrapping your arms around yourself and shivering at the sudden loss of his warmth.

Rafe stayed still, trying not to spook you. His head dipped low, looking down at his ringing hands.

“I missed you,” he mumbled helplessly.

“You mean you missed fucking me?” You asked spitefully.

One agonizingly slow step at a time, Rafe crossed the room. You turned from him as if to push him away, literally giving him the cold shoulder. But he wasn’t deterred, he just got closer and closer until he was right behind you, close enough for his breath to sweep across your shoulder as he said, “yeah, what if I do? I miss it so much. There’s not a day that passes without me wishing I was here, fucking you so good you scream my name.”

His arrogant words made you so fucking angry, and so fucking wet.

What little resistance you had mustered disappeared. Breathless, you whispered, “what else do you miss?”

“I miss your little moans,” he continued, the corner of his lips raising slightly at the sight of the goosebumps that shot up your arms. “I bet you still cry out for me when you make yourself come, don’t you? I want you to show me.”

“We can’t do this,” you shook your head.

“No, I can’t do this,” he corrected you. “You can do whatever you want.”

No fight left, you took his suggestion, and soon you were laying back on your bed, your shorts thrown on the floor, your hand moving feverishly under your panties. Rafe laid next to you, his body drawn in as close as it could possibly get while keeping his promise not to touch you. You’d made no such promise, the hand you weren’t rubbing over your slick folds gripping his arm for purchase as you moaned at your own touch.

“Talk to me,” you begged.

“Yeah?” He said excitedly, as if he had been waiting for permission. 

You nodded desperately, bringing your eyes to his as one of your fingers dropped down to enter yourself.

“You remember the first time we fucked?” He began. “Right here on this bed. I took you from behind. You were so tight around my cock, like you were fucking made for me.”

You added a second finger, driven by his filthy words. His jaw clenched, restraining himself with more effort than he’d ever given anything as he watched you writhe.

“Keep going,” you whined, eyes squeezed shut.

“I had to turn you around, I had to see that pretty face when you came for me for the first time,” he recalled. “God, I bet you wish it was me stretching you out right now, don’t you? You wish it was my cock pounding you into the mattress until you can’t breathe, huh?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, lips pouting, overwhelmed by the memories and your need to feel him.

“Best pussy I’ve ever had,” he groaned, feeling himself twitching in his pants, desperate for his own release but committed to yours. “I need to see you come, baby, one more time. Please come for me?”

You cried out as you clenched around your own fingers, their size so inadequate with him so close, knowing what he could be doing to you. But you meant what you said, you couldn’t let him touch you, not while his bride was sleeping just across town, no idea her groom was in some pogue’s bed, begging her to come for him. Maybe it was sick, but the thought of him being so desperate for you that he was risking everything with her made your thighs clench around your hand, nearing the edge.

“Tell me about the first time you saw me,” you pleaded, the rasp in your voice warning him you were close. 

“Holy shit, baby, you were so fucking sexy,” he said, rising up from the bed and propping himself on his arm to hover over you, the proximity throwing you into even more of a frenzy. “Dancing in that club, the way you move, shit, I wanted to lay you down on that dancefloor and fuck you right there. So did every other guy in there. But they didn’t get to have you, I did. And I’ve never been the same since I first touched you.”

It was all too much, his words, the memory, the sensation of your fingers sliding in and out so easily, the way he was talking making you so wet. Your high crashed into you like a truck, your back arching off the bed, your chest bumping into his as you came with his name on your lips.

“There she is, that’s my girl,” Rafe exhaled as you rode out your high. Eventually, your muscles gave out from the pleasure and you slumped back into the bed.

He watched you in rapture as your chest rose and fell with labored breaths, struggling to recover. Neither of you knew what to do next, the shock of what just happened washing over you. Your body was so exhausted from the chaos of the day and the aftershocks of your orgasm, all you wanted was him, and you were too tired to fight it.

“Rafe?” You whispered into the darkness of your bedroom, the light of the moon the only thing illuminating the small space.

“Yeah?” He whispered back.

“Can you hold me?” Your voice sounded so small, and you hated the vulnerability of your request, but at this moment the only thing you wanted in the world was to feel his arms around you.

“I thought you didn’t want me to touch you?” He teased gently.

“I said I’m getting better, not that I’m perfect,” you smiled, turning your body towards him. “And I want to know what it feels like to fall asleep in your arms. Just once.”

“Is it gonna be an issue?” He asked. You knew what he really meant was, “are you going to regret sleeping with an engaged man?”

The answer was yes, but you didn’t care.

“Just let me be a little selfish,” you said, turning around so your back was against his chest, pulling his arm around you. “I had you first.”

“You still have me,” he whispered against your neck, pulling your body into his.

“Shhh,” you said, lifting your fingers gently to his lips. “Go to sleep, Rafe.”

He smiled and did as he was told.

₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊

The sunlight landing on your face is what woke you from the deepest and sweetest sleep you’d had in six months. Your first instinct was to smile, humming in satisfaction as you stretched your well rested muscles.

Your second instinct was to reach for him. 

You shouldn’t be surprised, shouldn’t pull your knees to your chest, shouldn’t be crying alone in your cold bed. Of course he left. He was always going to leave.

Some small, pathetic voice in the back of your mind said, “maybe he just went to break things off with her.”

Even though it made you feel like the most pitiful girl in the world, you checked his location, still available from the night before. He was on Figure 8, the address you had gone to yesterday. He was at his wedding. 

He had wanted you to ask him not to marry her. He never would’ve said it, but you could see it on his face. He had too much to lose, too many people depending on him, too much weight on his shoulders. But maybe he would’ve given it all up, if only you’d asked.

You threw your phone across the room in frustration. Maybe you should’ve just asked him to stay with you, maybe you should’ve put your pride aside this one time, maybe this was all your fault. 

You were up and out of bed before you had time to talk yourself out of it. You pulled on your catering clothes from the night before. Surely, they wouldn’t let you in the gate if you looked like some wedding crashing pogue, but maybe you could slip in undetected if it seemed like you still worked there.

You don’t even remember driving there, your stomach on fire with nerves and something that might even be excitement, as you raced across the island. The clock in your car read 1:03pm, and you prayed to whatever god was listening that the ceremony had started late.

As you planned, they let you right in the gate when you said you were with the caterer. You didn’t even bother to park at the service entrance, your tires squealing as you came to a stop right in front of the house, leaving the engine running as you ran towards the ceremony site. You could hear music playing in the distance, hoping it was the processional. 

But when you turned the corner, you heard a large crowd break into applause. You came to a halt, backing up to hide under the cover of a tree a few yards from the end of the aisle. You watched as Rafe appeared, his beaming bride on his arm. He dipped her low, giving her a kiss as the crowd cheered again, the gold ring on his left hand glinting in the sunlight.

You were too late.

₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊

pt. 3 coming soon

[fclk-lores]

he’s so million dollar man coded here ₊˚⊹ 🎀🫶🏻

[babyjakes]

false god. [blurb.]

〈 disclaimer: this blog posts content not suitable for individuals under the age of 18. minors are strictly prohibited from viewing, sharing, or interacting with this blog. for more information on this blog's commitment to protecting minors, read our full statement here. 〉

event | june '23 ari-themed blurb night

summary | you might just get away with it, the alter is your hips. he'll worship this love.

pairing | sex god!ari levinson x innocent!virgin reader

warnings | err this is long but whatever. one (1) bad taylor reference. sex god!ari (he's his own warning). awakened daddy kink. innocent!virgin!reader (who maybe knows exactly what she's doing lol). mentions of foreplay. stretching. loss of virginity (not graphic or bloody). soft ari turns to strict daddy dom. one (1) spank. choking. little bit of hair pulling. some praise and degradation. i want him i need him he's my whole world—

word count | 967

requested by @foxgloveprincess | what do you think sex god ari would do when after he going out one night, he meets a shy, virginal reader who instantly get his attention. then, when they get home and are getting hot & heavy, she accidentally reveals her daddy kink (in this scenario, ari’s never been called a ‘daddy’ before—which i know sounds ludicrous but still). new kink awakening? or a refusal because he’s so much more? all while ruining her. 🫣

an | ahhHhhHHH omg rach this is so so so brilliant thankyou for this amazing idea!!! i LOVE this ari, he never knew he needed to be a daddy until he heard that single word from such a precious, innocent sweetheart, i hope you enjoy what i did with this!!!

Ari's body is hot and heavy over you as his bare skin brushes against yours, hips rolling slowly as he teases his massive length over your virgin cunt. As he holds himself up, looking down over you as the sliver of moonlight shining in through the window illuminates your tender face, he can't help but pause for a moment, reaching up to cup the soft curve of your chin as he takes in your beauty. "Jesus, sweetheart," he curses under his breath. He's a well-experienced man; you're both well aware of this fact. But looking at you right now, with your soft locks of hair tangled against his pillow below your head, you've got him thinking you're the prettiest little thing he's ever managed to coax through his door.

His tip teases your entrance as you whimper weakly. You're so tiny and tight down there; you could barely take a single finger earlier when he opened you up on his couch, trying to help you prepare for this moment. "Just breathe, angel," the gentle man murmurs over you, stroking your cheek as he continues working the head of his cock against your swollen little clit. You hum sweetly, the sensation sending little sparks of pleasure surging through your core. Ari smiles as he sees you relaxing for him. "That's my girl," he praises as he tells you, "Now I'm just going to start easing it in, okay baby? Keep breathing, and tell me if you need me to slow down or stop."

As soon as he starts working his length inside of you, your whimpers return as you strain against the mattress beneath you. It's a struggle to manage even the tip, as he's not just long, but also incredibly thick. "Shhh," Ari tries to soothe you, still stroking your cheek with his thumb as he goes at a slow, careful pace. "Doing so good for me, pretty girl. Just relax, keep breathing," he reminds you as he continues opening you up.

As he works to fill you with more of him, you feel a harsh stretch beginning to pull at your insides. You cry out in a confused haze of pain and pleasure, the word escaping your lips before you even realize what you're saying— "Daddy..."

Ari stiffens against you, his jaw locking in a stern expression as he groans, "Fuck, baby. What'd you just call me?" His hand trails down to grab at your tit, causing you to squeak lightly in pleasure. A bead of sweat forms on the man's forehead. You're driving him absolutely crazy. And after the word that just slipped from your mouth, he doesn't know if he can temper himself for much longer. He gropes your breast more harshly before reaching back up, grabbing your chin to force you to look up at him. "Tell me," he commands, his voice now void of the patience he was working so hard to manage previously.

Your cheeks burn in embarrassment as you look up at him with wide, innocent eyes. Behaving like this, after such a dirty little slip-up, you're only making things worse for yourself. "P-please Ari," you whimper sweetly.

His eyes narrow. That's not what he was asking for, and you both know it. His hand comes down to close around your throat as he raises an eyebrow at you, his face darkening as he tells you, "I'll give you one more chance. 'Please' what, angel?"

"Please... please Daddy," you sniffle as his massive fingers close in around your poor throat. When he smiles, you see something hell-like sparkling in his eyes before he rips out of you, grabbing you by the waist and flipping you over onto all-fours. "Daddy!" you cry into the pillow below you as his large hand comes up to admire your rounded ass.

"Hush now, pretty baby," Ari murmurs as he positions himself at your entrance, holding your hip in place for himself with one hand as the other guides his throbbing cock to your dripping heat. "Since you wanna be such a filthy little slut, Daddy's gonna fuck you like one. Do you understand?" he asks. When your only response is more muffled whimpers and moans, he cracks his hand down harshly against your bare bottom. Tears burst from your pretty eyes as you let out a sob. "I said, do you understand?" he growls again, grabbing you by the hair and yanking your head back to look up at him.

"Y-yes! Yes Daddy," you cry through your tears. Ari can't help but think that you're even more beautiful when you cry like this. His ruined angel, his perfect little toy to wreck and ruin as he pleases. This is all too good to be true, and he knows he would be foolish to treat you with any less than the brutal punishing you're so clearly in need of.

"Good girl," he hums as he begins pushing himself inside of you, the feeling of fullness so intense that your knees tremble, threatening to give out. "Now just try to keep yourself upright, angel, but don't worry if you can't— Daddy will hold you up; Daddy will do everything for you. Don't need to worry about a single thing except laying there and getting fucked. Okay, sweetheart? Do you understand?"

You nod eagerly this time as he continues pushing into you, letting out a heavy groan as his tip finally reaches your ceiling. "There," he breathes, working himself in and out a few times to get you accustomed to his incredible size. "Now hold on tight, little girl," he grins as he pushes you down by the small of your back, getting ready to pound into you like a good daddy should. "Daddy's gonna take what's his now, and you're gonna give it all to me."