promise (to be holy)
rafayel; 1,745 words; fluff, fluff w/out plot, established relationship, kinda?spoilers for raf's lvl 55 affection story, no "y/n", genderless!reader, very suggestive but not actually nsfw
summary: oh, didn't you know? promises are sacred things beneath the ocean...
a/n: @syneilesis thank u for being my lad screaming buddy; this one's for you and for raf the little slut
The ocean has always been a certain kind of poetry, hasn’t it? You smile to yourself as you blink yourself awake and the world is the size of your sunlit bedroom. Rafayel’s breaths are even, his lashes so dark and long they remind you of a certain kind of midnight — the kind that catches starlight in her hair and has magic in her fingertips.
The kind of midnight that inspires wonder.
“If you really are that enamored with me… I can paint you a portrait. It’ll last longer.”
You blush, even as Rafayel’s eyes flicker open to catch yours, his lips pulled into a teasing, sleep-heavy smile.
“I — I wasn’t staring. I just woke up too and you were blocking my sun.”
You try to turn away, but Rafayel is faster, his arm looping around your middle to pin you to him, his breath warm as it kisses the skin of your bare shoulder. He cocks his head, still blinking the sleep from his eyes.
“Oh? Is that so?” he asks, shifting so that your eyes are level. The morning light paints his outline in liquid gold, and from here, the shade of his eyes makes you think of all the secrets the sea might keep from the sky.
“Mhm,” you nod, licking your lips, and watching with some satisfaction, as his eyes flick down to trace the movement. His skin is warm and his fingers soft as they press into the bend of your waist to pull you closer.
“Liar,” he says — whispers, before he dips down to graze his lips against yours.
You sigh against him, grinning as you curl your fingers into his hair and tug. The way he gasps makes a certain, unnamable hunger surge within you, pushing you forward till you’re pressing him back into the bed, your thighs on either side of his hips.
“Y-you — ngh —” Rafayel hisses as he tips his head back, his teeth digging into his bottom lip, his fingers inadvertently into your skin. You cock your head — and perhaps it’s the tantalizing line of his neck as he leans back, straining beneath you, or perhaps it’s just the morning light, falling like a lover’s caress across the smooth of his skin, the soft wave of his hair as it splays across the pillow — dark against light.
“Now… who’re you calling a liar?” you ask, flattening your palm slowly against his chest, reveling in the way his stomach tenses beneath you, how his breaths seem to quicken as you lean down and down and down.
“Y-you —” he almost musters up a glare as he hisses, “bullying the weak…” he murmurs as he tries to turn away. You twist his face back towards you with a finger beneath his chin and watch as his eyes go wide.
“Oh? You think this is bullying? But… I haven’t even gotten started yet…” you don’t miss the way his pupils dilate, the way his entire body goes rigid and then soft.
“I — you — I’m not accustomed to the ways of you humans! T-to a Lemurian like me… this is — this is —” The words die on his lips as you lean down to skim your lips along the bend of his neck, dropping phantom kisses on the long line of his collarbone, your fingers still holding his head in place.
“Hm?” you hum, grinning as he arches up into your touch, his fingers digging crescent-moon grooves into your hips and thighs, “this is… what, exactly?”
Rafayel makes a broken, keening noise at the back of his throat as you pull away, a fox-fire smile twisting your lips. You blink down at him, feigning innocence.
“Didn’t you say you were going to tell me all about Lemurian traditions? Why not start now?”
His eyes narrow as he forces himself to look away from you. You can almost feel the heat radiating off him in waves, burning from the tips of his ears all the way to the roots of his hair.
“I — you —” his lashes flutter and you can’t help your own laughter as it bubbles from you.
“C’mon, let’s get up — didn’t you want to go to the paint shop today — oh!”
You make to pull away, swinging your legs off him, but the world tilts as a pair of hands pull you back, and a moment later, you’re being pressed into an ocean of tangled sheets and pillows, Rafayel’s face hovering above yours, his expression caught between annoyance and ill-concealed desire.
“You shouldn’t start something you can’t finish,” he cocks his head, lips drawn into a delightful pout as you try to tug your hand away. He huffs as he pins you down harder, the redness in his cheeks deepening even as he leans in.
“Who said I was starting anything?” you ask, batting your lashes up at him even as he scoffs.
“Words aren’t the only way to make promises, y’know,” he says, and you feel his grip on you loosen. But there’s a tantalizing lilt to his voice that holds you in place, a dark, faraway look in his eyes as he leans back slightly, his gaze grazing down the shape of you, splayed out beneath him.
“Yeah? Then… what’s another way of making a promise?” you ask, propping yourself up on your elbows as he shifts back to allow you more space. You shift and the pair of you find yourself sitting face to face, the sheets rumpled around you like a white-sand beach, the remnants of the night before scattered in the folds like footsteps in the sand.
He looks at you before his eyes cast downwards. Your fingertips itch toward him and you reach out, brushing aside a stray strand of hair. Quick as a flicker, he catches your hand, pressing his cheek to your palm, eyes falling shut as he sighs.
“There’s… lots of ways to make a promise…” he says, murmuring it against your skin as he turns his face to press a kiss to the delicate skin of your wrist. You shiver as heat chases up your arm, tingling through your body as you swallow.
You sit there, frozen, as he leans in, slow and slow and slow — till you can feel the heat of his breath on your lips.
“You see… words are a little harder when you’re underwater, so sometimes we make promises by touching palms —” he turns his hand around yours till your fingers lace, “sometimes… we brush cheeks…” he grins as he leans in further, his cheek brushing by yours.
“And sometimes…” he pulls back ever so slightly, till you feel your own breath catch in your chest. His voice is deep and warm and soft and sweet — tugging you in as the moon on the tide, and you can’t help but wonder at the mysterious forces that might’ve pulled you towards one another in the beginning.
Chance, or perhaps something much less nebulous — like gravity.
Your lips meet like magnets clicking into place, and it’s far from the first time you’ve kissed but somehow here, in the morning light, with the windows of the bedroom thrown open to welcome the sea, the salt hanging solid and heavy in the air, it feels like the first time. You can taste the smile on Rafayel’s lips, can feel the eager way he presses in, tongue sweeping across your lips as you gasp open for him. You feel the weight of his body as he pulls you in, pushes you down, and the gentle give and take of it all somehow rings out against the slow shushing of the rising tides.
When he finally pulls away, both of you are breathless. You wonder, briefly, dazedly, if he might’ve been able to go on kissing like that forever. Do Lemurians even need to breathe? What might it be like to kiss like that and never feel the burning ache of oxygen in your lungs? It’s a dizzying thought, and you let yourself linger on it for a second more before Rafayel’s laughter breaks your train of thought.
“What? Was it so good that you’ve gone into shock?”
You blink, shaking your head as you feel heat wash up into your cheeks.
“No! I — I was just wondering… what does a kiss promise, exactly?”
And at this, Rafayel’s cheeks darken again, but he sighs and lowers himself onto the bed next to you, a finger trailing idly along the bend of your ear.
“Well…” he says, “it depends on the kind of kiss.”
You yelp, swatting at him with a pillow as your stomach flips inside you at the implications. His laughter is bright and pure and sweet, but as you both settle down again, he shrugs, pulling you closer to nuzzle his nose against yours.
“But mostly… a kiss just promises that there’ll be another kiss.”
You smile, leaning up to graze your lips against his, “Like that?”
He lets out a soft groan before pulling you in, his lips parting yours, slow and sensuous.
“Yeah… just like that.”
“And so… if you kiss once then…” you press a finger to his lips to stop him from leaning down again, “you’ve gotta keep on kissing? Forever?”
Rafayel grins, tugging away your hand, “That’s not going to be a problem, is it?”
You purse your lips, humming as you feign contemplation. Rafayel scoffs and makes to move away again, but you pull him back, laughing.
“You can’t leave yet! We’ve got a promise to keep, remember?” and with that, you kiss him, and he softens. As he always does.
“I think…” he says, a little breathless as the pair of you sink back into the sheets, “we’ve got a bit more than one promise… but I think we can start with this one…” and he leans in to capture your lips in his, fingers drifting to the skin of your waist. And as the dawning day watches from beyond the window, the ocean shushes itself against a stretch of forgotten beach, water through sand like tangling lovers’ fingers, reaching and holding, pushing and pulling.
And for lovers like that, there will always be promises to keep, and keep, and keep.
pls come talk to me about love and deepspace oh m ygod
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Never Been A Friend | Part 1 | Jeon Jk
♧ synopsis: Sneaky glances across the room weighed with a dozen different meanings left to be unsaid; confusion, desire, lust. He was never a friend, was he?
♧ pairing: brother's bsf!jk, bratty!reader.
♧ warnings: y/n is too drunk to form a sentence, jungkook loves cursing, jungkook is jealous out of his mind, kinda enemies but not really, jungkook calls y/n a brat that he cant stand, someone calls y/n a slut, and that's all i can remember 😙
♧ WC: 1.6K
♧ a/n: hello loves! wrote this in one sitting and it's barely edited, but the intention is there lmao i love you all so much please enjoy! dont hesitate to tell me what you think <3 im like the no.1 supporter for constructive criticism lol okay thank you byeeeee
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JK's POV
She whines,
Throws tantrums,
Acts like a goddamn brat for the sake of being annoying,
And I still want her lips around my cock.
Why?
That goes beyond the fucking level of my emotional understanding.
I want her wrapped around my finger. I want her to get on her fucking knees and apologize for all the turbulent feelings she makes me suffer by.
She ruined my night.
I was fucking.
Blowing a girl's back just to lay off some steam. Get the stress of the college life off my shoulders.
But then, she just had to cock-block me.
My best friend’s sister.
Speaking of the twat, he dared to interrupt my one night stand for the sake of his bratty sister.
Usually, I love brats.
My type.
They make sex enjoyable. All the more pleasurable when they try to resist.
Keyword: try.
Because I know for a damn straight fact when a girl wants to be disciplined.
Fucked right and put in her place.
Reminds me of her. Y/L/N Y/N.
Except for one thing, though- she makes my fucking insides churn in all uncomfortable ways.
She doesn’t have a bratty attitude, the bitch has a bratty personality.
Yes, she is indeed a bitch. I can't stand a girl who's always annoying just because she feels like it. She'd never had a valid reason to hate me, and neither did I.
When I first met her, I mean.
She was laughing with her brother having breakfast one time when I came out of my room for painkillers and a glass of water.
Her brother and I were both freshmen in need of a dorm, and we agreed on splitting the rent once in a frat party.
Yes... we were both strangers to each other, but we clicked.
Met through mutuals, and our vibes matched. After living with each other for over six months now, we've grown pretty close.
He's cool, agreed on basic rules like who does the laundry or dishes, helped with assignments, and was always there when needed.
He's a friend. A close one.
A tolerable one.
That can't be said about a certain someone, though.
She scowled at me that day and later told me she didn't like my vibe when I confronted her about it.
Bullshit.
And yet, she's the reason I left a naked girl in my bed and came to this godforsaken club in the first place.
Her brother is here, too, which is why he called me to come pick her up. Said something about her being drunk, and since he had taken a shot or two as well, he couldn't take her home himself.
Or he just didn't want to, because he was also getting laid tonight.
That's proven to be right when I see him making out with a girl near the bathrooms.
His hands grope her all over as she arches into him, which is enough to make me look away.
Sly motherfucker.
Casting my vision toward the main dance floor, I scan the crowd for a short brunette with soft features.
Annoyingly soft features.
So soft that I want to corrupt her. Tear the bratty exterior and dig through the filthy dark side on the inside.
But those features aren't the only things that infuriate the hell out of me.
It's her innocence.
How can a brat be innocent, you may ask?
When my gaze lands on her, my jaw tenses in annoyance.
She sways her hips sensually, eyes closed and mouth open as she slides her hands down her body to a seductive beat following her movements.
I follow the action, eyes unable to tear away from her figure.
Her fingers skim over her neck down to her breasts and then further, the lightness she seems to be handling her body with attending to a grace she always breathed by.
Fuck, I hate this woman.
Hate everything about her.
How she moves.
How she walks.
How she fucking talks.
Runs her mouth like a brat who needs to be handled.
No- not like- is.
She is a brat.
A brat who's oblivious to all the eyes she's attracting.
Including mine.
Fuck.
Her dancing resumes as her eyes stay closed, feeling every beat.
She's enjoying herself.
Not for long.
I school my expression- which had turned into a scowl the moment I set my eyes on her- and begin my stride towards her.
I spot a man doing the same, but she's absolutely mind-numb as she continues to dance with her damn eyes closed.
I was irritated, but now I'm literally fed up.
He's a couple inches shorter than me, wearing a white tee and skinny ripped jeans.
Not to mention, his hair is slicked back by a disgusting amount of hair gel.
Ew.
He approaches Y/N with predatory eyes and a shit eating grin, his gaze set straight on her perky ass.
Which is just barely covered by the tight little dress she's wearing, inching higher and higher up her thighs as we speak.
My steps quicken when I see him reach out, apparently intending to slap her ass.
My blood boils.
White noise drowns out all available access to the outside world as I break out into a jog and reach her just in time.
My hand swiftly slides onto her tiny waist, and I glare at the man whose shit-eating grin is now gone, replaced with confusion.
Y/N's eyes stay closed as she giggles, and it's now I notice how drunk she is.
Bright crimson tints her cheeks and her breath smells of strong tequila, obviously from having taken too many shots.
Isn't she here with friends?
How could they leave her alone like this?
Her brother's here. Her brother is here.
My breath turns heavy, my heartbeat quickening. I have to stop myself from punching the douchebag in front of me into fucking oblivion because I don't know if i'll ever stop once I start.
Fuck.
I try to focus on anything besides her frame that's barely hanging onto me, all the exhaustion from her dancing catching up to her as she fights to keep her eyes open.
Why the fuck is she here all alone? Why did they- whoever she's here with, except her brother- leave her here like this?
Like she's not even aware of where she is.
Like she's not sober enough to be responsible.
Like she's not fucking strong enough to defend herself if anything happened to her.
I might punch a wall.
My grip tightens around her waist, which makes her drowsily lift her head to stare up at me.
She's still shorter than me with heels on, enough to put her neck in an uncomfortable position whenever she looks up at me.
It's adorable.
But that's none of my concerns as the slimy fuck keeps undressing her with his eyes. Makes me want to claw them out with my bare hands.
Repress.
"Wha..." She starts, growing more and more confused as she tries to wrap her head around where the hell she is. "Jungkook? What are you..."
She trails off into a mindfuck, allowing me to set my full focus on the man still staring between us with wariness.
My gaze hasn't worn off him since I saw him fucking reach for her ass, which makes me want to bash his head against the wall.
My breathing turns heavy again.
Repress.
"Off-limits." I bite out with enough to control to shock myself. I'm even more surprised that this motherfucker is still breathing.
His eyes thin into slits as he eyes me suspiciously. "I haven't seen you here the last couple of hours. Thought her sexy ass came alone." His eyes skim over her body, gaze lingering longer than necessary on her breasts.
Guess someone's leaving with no limbs tonight.
"You thought wrong." It takes almost all the last bits of my control to reply with that before I start turning around to leave, Y/N almost falling asleep on my arm.
She clutches the hem of my shirt with a weak grip, like a toddler would its mom.
If I couldn't get here in time, what would've happened?
I catch myself before I overthink it. If I did, I'm afraid I might commit a crime tonight. One of shameless blood and murder-
Repress.
My back is turned to him when I hear a low whistle, which makes me pause, angry enough for my limbs to shake with adrenaline.
"You know, It's often rare for a slut with such a sweet ass to be out here all alone wearing that. Almost like she's begging for a cock-"
The words are barely out of his mouth before my fist connects with his face. The force of my blow got him on the floor, nose fucked and bleeding. Might be broken.
Good. Bare minimum.
I almost straddle him and punch him to his fucking fortunate death.
Almost.
But I have to get Y/N home.
I can't stand this anymore.
I can't stand her anymore.
Coming here alone? Dressed like that?
I mean yes, she did come here with her idiot brother who thinks with his dick, but he's nowhere to be found.
How can someone be so nonchalant to just leave his sister here all alone?
I'm so goddamn confused.
And infuriated.
And...angry.
Fucking fuck.
I need to get her the fuck out of here before i lose my fucking mind.
Fuck me.
The punch I just delivered did little to satiate my thirst for this slimy fucker's blood.
But again, Y/N's more important.
I turn, my panic spiking so high it reaches levels it had never before when I find Y/N out of my sight.
My breathing starts to go abnormal for the nth time this night.
I might develop heart problems.
A sigh leaves my mouth when I spot her by the bars, trying to convince the bartender to give her another shot. Relief floods my system, and my breaths regulate.
I send a quick text the girl- who i already forgot the name of- and tell her to head home. She sends a crying emoji back but agrees nonetheless, telling me to call her back when everything is sorted out on my end.
I have other things to care for.
Or I guess, in this case, a certain person to tend to.
God, It's gonna be a long night.
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Micro-story number 20 please!
Ooooh an interesting one! My brain went several places with this one, both sfw and nsfw so it took me a while to land on something. But here you go, another Gale x You mini fic!
alone, finally
He has your back against the door of his home in Waterdeep the moment you’ve fully crossed his threshold, his fingers digging into your hips and his lips on yours, practically stealing the air from your lungs. Your eyes fly wide with surprise before fluttering closed as you wrap your arms around his neck, responding to each new affection with equal passion. He’s been hungry for you before but this is something else. It’s as though every reservation he’s ever borne around you has suddenly fallen away. He lavishes his mouth on you and grips you like a man starved.
As his lips move to your neck you managed to gasp a hazy, “Gale, what—”
“We’re alone,” murmurs against your skin, his voice deep, “finally.”
You can’t help but laugh. “We’ve been alone before, my love. This is hardly the first time.”
He nips at your earlobe, a sharp but fleeting pain, almost like a chastisement. “Not like this.”
You bite your lip against a smile, tempted to just let him have it—let him have you—but you have to know. You comb your fingers through his hair and guide his head up so you can look him in the face. He lifts his head with a look that is nothing short of a pleading pout, his brown eyes at maximum hurt-puppy levels and his lips in a tiny plump frown. You laugh again.
“What do you mean, love?” you ask, stroking his cheeks with your thumbs. “We’ve been alone plenty of times.”
“We’ve never been alone like this,” he says. He pulls your hips to meet his and touches his forehead briefly to yours. “We’ve never been home before.”
Home.
It clicks for you.
Home, where you can lock the door and shut out the outside world for a few hours or days. Home, with no one lingering a few feet away from your tent, where you don’t have to share walls, floors, and ceilings with dozens of other temporary residents in adjoining rooms. Home, where you—or at least he—is at his most comfortable, surrounded by the space he built for himself. Home, where the two of you can be as loud, adventurous, and wild as you please, with only the most intrepid busybody to overhear you.
He’s right. You’ve never been alone with him quite like this.
His expression shifts as he sees the understanding dawn on your face, his round-eyed pout replaced with a sharper, hungrier look, his pupils blown wide with desire. He kisses you deeply again before resting his forehead against yours.
“I want you,” he breathes. “I want to try everything we haven’t tried yet, with you, here. I want to explore your body, every inch of it, to see what I missed while we were out there saving the world. I want every room in our home to echo with the sounds of your pleasure, raw and without limits. I want to see you—everywhere, pressed against every surface. Not just our bed, but our desks, our table, our—”
You silence him with a kiss. As much as you love to hear him talk, what you want now is fewer words and more action. You kiss him until you’re both breathless, panting, until the room feels too hot and you’re desperate to peel your clothes away from your body and tug his off of him. You break away to catch your breath, though he hasn’t given you much room to do so, pressing his body against yours until it’s flat to the door.
“Don’t tell me,” you breathe. “Show me.”
His response is a grin you don’t think you’ve seen before. Not like this. A little crooked, a little mischievous, and entirely too hungry. It sends a thrill down your spine.
You’re in trouble, but in the best possible way.
“Don’t hold back, my love. It’s just us, after all.”
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Ride 774: Kiji, coming!!
Pag 1
1: Welcome, to the Emperor's throne!!
My aim is the double crown!!
Pag 2
4: Ahhh... you're fast, the two of you
I thought I could catch you for sure at 2km left
Pag 3
1: But it took me until “1km left”, yon!!
Pag 4
3: Ah!?
He
4: caught up!? Who....
Pag 5
1: who the hell are you!?
2: The two people in the lead are taking the curve and passing the sign that says that there's 1km left until the sprint line.....
Pag 6
1: No, it's three people!!
Three people passed the “1km left” sign!!
2: There's more people!? Since when!?
Wasn't it two people!?
What happened!? Who's that? That jersey-
At the last curve, suddenly-
3: It's not “who are you”....!!
Dammit!! I know!! This guy!!
Pag 7
1: There's one more person who we need to pay special attention to
2: Gunma Ryousei's third year, Kiji Kyuui
3: Ohh, Kiji? Who's that
Oi, I already told you about this in advance, Manami!! Come on, at the sea
Is that so?
4: What's your data about him?
5: There's basically no record of him in road racing
6: He's an..... “assassin” from the MTB world, huh
7: Is he aiming for the goal?
8: Yeah.... the goal...
That's right....
We should be glad
Pag 8
1: That he's only aiming for the goal
2: Hayaaaa!!
3: Dammit!! The first result.... so you're aiming for the sprint too!?
4: Since they said you were aiming for the goal I thought you were a climber like Manami!!
Pag 9
1: Let's speed up, Orange!! He'll catch up!!
2: I've seen it before!! This guy's jersey
3: That day.... he appeared suddenly on that bike with the thick tires
Pag 10
1: It's the guy who chased Onoda-san and the Hakogaku guy with the bouncy hair!!
2: Before that, Onoda-san said they were friends and that he's “strong”!!
3: He's coming to catch up to
4: mine and San-na's battle
Pag 11
1: He really is strong!!
Let's switch, I'll pull!!
Pag 12
1: Orange!!
3: They're in tune
You have amazing judgment and explosive power!!
4: When I caught up at the last curve
5: Even though they could have also accepted me and made me join them
Without making eye contact or calling out to each other, in an instant at the same time they made the decision
6: that they would “cooperate” to leave me behind!! Yon!!
You're really....
Pag 13
4: What's that
He's lowering his stance and pushing on the handles like he's about to dance....!!
5: Hayaaaa
Pag 14
1: You're really close friends!!
Pag 15
4: He lined up to us in one go!?
Pag 16
1: This guy!! Was it an optical illusion? Just now, I saw something like a cloud of dust behind me
2: Takadajou told us this
Be careful
3: I've been told that the power that a MTB rider can produce in a short time
4: is 1.5 times that of a road racing cyclist
5: This guy can match this top speed!?
8: Ah!?
9: Huh!?
Pag 17
2: In between!?
He came in between!?
Ah!?
3: You bastard, usually when one catches up he joins in the back
Pag 18
1: It's road racing theory!!
4: This guy doesn't know the theory?
5: 800m left until the sprint line!!
6: 1
Pag 19
1: 2
What's this- San-na, did this guy suddenly started counting
2: What's this
The sign for an attack?
3: 3
Pag 20
2: Alright, I recovered
5: Well then, I'll go
Pag 21
1: Ahead, yon
2: So it really was a sign for attacking!!
Who's that guy!!
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