#this is a very narrow reading of both characters

[konfizry]

dirk dad

words cannot describe how appreciative i am of Shady Dirk. the man makes counterfeit relics!! granted the one example of this we’re provided is not some dodgy black market stuff, the relic actually goes to the Church but. still. you’re helping someone cover up a lie by making a fake, Mr Dirk!!! what about dwarven vow number 11 mister dirk??? But hey, he’s got a kid to keep fed and clothed. goodness and love in the end! Like. I love it. For all his hammering the dwarven vows as this ubiquitous moral code, he doesn’t mind bending the rules a little if he has to. (And i do think that rubs off on Lloyd as well. lloyd’s not above deceiving, playing mind games and using a little bit of trickery if he feels it’s justified)

That’s how i love to draw the parallel between kratos and dirk tho like. Dirk abides by his moral code very strictly except when he doesn’t. He has no qualms about overlooking the very rules he likes to quote at the drop of a hat for the greater good (and like that’s not necessarily a dichotomy. maybe dwarven vow number 7 transcends all the others and it’s ok to disregard a vow or two if you do it for love and justice. also tbh it seems the dwarven vows are numerous enough that you can probably find some that contradict one another anyway. and i would argue that’s by design). So that’s why he keeps some things from Lloyd and makes fake spiritual statues. he has his own way of solving the moral dilemmas that come his way, i think. Doesn’t mean it’s necessarily easy for him every time, but he knows to trust himself and create flexibility when need be. Kratos on the other hand, doesn’t. He wants to be loyal to his friend and his friend’s ideals. That’s what guides him, period. And so long as said friend remains faithful to his ideals, that’s all well and good, but the moment Friend starts acting counter to his own ideals, Kratos BSODs. he’ll stay in denial for a couple decades or centuries, then he’ll abandon ship and and wander around aimlessly for a couple extra decades not truly committing one way or another, until he finally meets Someone who can (knowingly or not) answer the question: “is it ok to turn against my mass-enslaver genocidal shadow-of-his-former-self of a friend (i did say i would always be by his side so idk)??”. (and then when that Someone goes bye-bye, he’s back to square one, we know the drill)

this would be a no-brainer for dirk i think? idk. anyway

dirk knowingly crafts counterfeit objects of worship that are subsequently used to trick hundreds upon hundreds of people so he can put food on the table and i think that makes him interesting (and fun) (do you think a part of him enjoys doing it. do you think he takes pride knowing that his statue might fool even the most zealous devouts. i dont have the answer to that question)

#tales of symphonia #tos spoilers #make no mistake kratos is a shady character too #look at him constantly sneaking around #never making his true intentions known #my point is both lloyds dads are shady #i like to think anna was too when the situation called for it #they're all deceitful #despite probably despising deceit but sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do #also this uuhhh #this is a very narrow reading of both characters #there are other dynamics at play #kratos is just really indecisive like at his core #but it's funny tho bc #like #he IS capable of going against the rules like really #dude stood up to the King of Tethe'alla (His King That He Was A Knight Of And Also Maybe Banging His Daughter) #to defend two random half elves he met 2 days prior or something #because his gut told him to listen #what happened to that kratos what happened to trusting your gut when you see someone you're loyal to acting like a clown #aaaarrrggghhh #for the record ive said it before i'll say it again i'll say it everyday of my life: #i am a kratos enjoyer #all slander directed towards kratos on this blog comes from a place of true fondness #he is my baby i love him but also all who hate him are 100% justified and correct in their hatred #'s how it is #enough about kratos #anyway idk if thats the consensus or not but i do enjoy seeing lloyd and dirk's relationship as conflictual #and like that doesnt make it any less valuable #nor does it erase the fact that they're family

[drill-teeth-art]

Wow! Here’s something incredibly personal.

This is Good Bi Gender. A comic I made to express some feelings I have about my gender. I don’t really have that much else to say about it. Here it is.

[Image Description: A digital comic made with sharp, angular abstract lines and only the colors white, blue, pink, and black. The featured character is all white, except for facial features and hair colors, which changes from panel to panel. The comic reads: Cover Panel: The text "Good Bi Gender", the words colored with the trans flag. It shows a glitchy person's face, half pink and half blue. Panel 1: White text reads: "Hello. My name is apparently irrelevant. And my pronouns are he/him and she/her. But you can't call me she/her. And here's why." Someone with a half-pink and half-blue shirt looks to the side. One eye is covered with hair, and the other eye is pink while the iris is blue.

Panel 2: The character sits happily, imagining facial hair and a masculine voice. "I don't want top surgery. I love my chest. And I dream about being on testosterone someday soon." The character looks at a phone, frowning. The phone shows the male symbol with an "X" through it. Text next to it reads: “People don't seem to think that the features I dream of are very pretty though... Or they think even worse of them than that…”

Panel 3: The character’s features are all pink, and sits in a blank frame. The character reaches over to a blue frame, frowning. “I don't like the animosity. I really despise it.” A photo of the character shows an all-blue frame and blue hair, with pink outlines and facial features. “To be a boy... I aspire to be one. I aspire to be masculine in all its handsomeness. All its prettiness.” Panel 4: The character sits in an all blue panel, but reaches back out to the pink panel. “And I'm still a girl too. I was so excited to have both. To love both. To have handsome femininity. Beautiful masculinity.” The frames break and connect, and pink and blue swirl together. The character smiles in between the frames, with one pink eye and one blue eye. “So excited. And yet I get asked…”

Panel 5: Two hands hold out two different pills to the character, one blue and one pink. They ask “Male? or Female?” using the male and female symbols.The character, facial features an array of pink and blue, looks between the two hands, distressed. “It's both! I'm both! They're not opposites. Not narrow boxes. I say I'm both despite the insistence that I can't be. And I know what I look like. I know I look like a girl to most. I know that if I say people can call me she, that's all I will get from most. Because it's "easier". It "makes more sense". To have my masculinity, I am often forced to be unflinching in it and it alone. To never use she. Because if I don't, I will never get to have he.” [The words "she" and "he" are italicized.] Panel 6: Text reads: “I'm still very happy to be so comfortable in my identity. To know, despite all that, that I am indeed a boy and a girl and both. But you know. Telling people to only use he/him for me. Guarding my masculinity all just to have it. All at the expense of the part of me who is happily and unashamedly a girl.” The character cries from one pink eye, the other hidden. The character holds a pink girl in a sea of blue, the girl crying out. In the midst of the blue, text reads: “Well, it fucking breaks her heart.” End ID]

Edit: @starberry-skies wrote an ID for the comic, so I added it to the og post with its permission!

#transgender #trans artwork #original art #digital art #comic

[yandere-daydreams]

Not-So-Scary Moments With The Yan. Genshin Boys (Sumeru + Fontaine Edition).

Characters: Alhaitham, Neuvillette, Kaveh, Tighnari, Cyno, and Wriothesley.

Word Count: 2.7k.

TW: Borderline Shitposting, Prolonged Imprisonment, Varying Levels of Emotional and Physical Abuse, Codependency, Mentions of Stalking, and Unhealthy Relationships.

Alhaitham

It took Alhaitham about ten minutes to drag himself out of bed, his staggered footsteps audible through the thin walls of his apartment.

It took twenty for him to haul himself through his morning routine – water running somewhere in the distance and porcelain clattering against marble countertops as he washed his face and tried to work some life into himself. Alhaitham usually wasn’t so lethargic, but he’d had a rough week. There’d been a sudden influx of paperwork for the Akademiya’s sole scribe, and every second he didn’t spend buried under new legislation and requests for increased budging was, instead, dedicated to one of his many personal research projects. By the time he’d gotten home last night, it’d been all he could do to make sure you hadn’t starved to death and drag himself to bed.

He usually would’ve kept you waiting for a few more minutes, but an agitated grunt marked an end to his normal patterns. In a moment, he was braced against the doorway to his own study, his eyes narrowed half-hearted towards where you sat in his leather-padded chair, your feet propped on his desk. There was an book open in your lap – one of his, something about metaphysics and ley line abnormalities and how both tied into the Inazuman politics. He eyed it wearily before speaking, his voice still deep with exhaustion. “Where did you put my hearing aids?”

His tone was accusatory, his irritation visible. You put on your sweetest smile. “Where did you put my novellas?” you signed, thinking for a moment before adding, “Bitch?”

“They aren’t ‘novellas’, they’re—” He cut himself off with a scoff. “They’re filth. I don’t want you rotting your brain with smut.”

“The plots are very—”

“The plots are half-baked excuses for paper-thin characters to fondle each other in locations you can tell the author didn’t take the time to properly research and—” His gaze flickered to you, his frown deepening. “Why are you smiling like that?”

“You’ve read them?”

There was a long beat of silence.

Finally, he let out a labored sigh. “The dozen or so I couldn’t be bothered to throw away are in a cabinet underneath the kitchen sink. It’s locked – the code is your birthday. Now, where are my aids?”

“You fell asleep with them on last night,” you said aloud, abandoning his glorified textbook and pushing yourself to your feet. His hand shot to the side of his head, finding the metallic cuff only slightly displaced by having spent the better half of the night on his head. As you passed him, you paused, pressing a kiss into the corner of his scowl and pretending to ignore the muffled groan he let out in response.

Neuvillette

Of all the sights you thought you might see after arriving in your wonderous new nation, the Iudex of Fontaine standing over your drained bathtub with a look of potent remorse written across his expression was not one of them.

You’d imagined yourself strolling through the walls of the Opera Epiclese in vivid detail, been able to picture exactly what you might’ve seen standing below the Tower of Ipsissimus or above the bottomless pit that was the entrance to the Fortress of Meropide, but even after you’d found yourself in the smothering care of Monsieur Neuvillette, you never would’ve been able to conjure this sight. He usually insisted that you bathe together, going so far as to have an in-ground tub that could’ve easily been mistaken for a hot spring installed in his (until recently neglected) personal residence to better indulge the habit. Thankfully, the trial he’d been presiding over had run long today, and you’d been able to save yourself an hour of his calloused hands running over your body, of his eyes burning into your skin with a nearly inhuman focus. You knew he’d be disappointed. Irate, even, depending on how his trial swung.

You hadn’t expected him to be so… sulky about it.

Half-lidded eyes, a slight pout tugging at the corner of his lips as he lingered idly in the doorway between your shared bedroom and the in-suite bathroom. Steam and silence laid heavy in the air – the latter you were eventually forced to break as you fiddled with the hem of your robe. “I’m sorry,” you muttered, hoping more to break the tension than to make him think you were genuinely apologetic. “It was getting late, and I didn’t know when you were coming home. I didn’t think you’d take it so personally.” When he didn’t respond, you braced yourself for the worst. “If you’re angry, please say so. I… I’d rather get this over with now, if it’s all the same to you.”

His expression softened. He let out an airy sigh and, with only a moment of hesitation, closed the space between you. “I’m not angry.” A pair of lean arms wrapped around your waist, his face soon buried in the crook of your neck. You heard him inhale, and did what you could to suppress the shudder that ran up your spine at the thought of him basking in your scent. “I’ve just been… looking forward to it, I suppose. Your taste relaxes me.”

Immediately, you went rigid. “My… taste?”

“Mhm.”

“Neuvillette,” you started, very slowly, giving your own mind time to catch up to the dread slowly building in the pit of your stomach. “Have you been drinking my bathwater?”

He was quiet for a not inconsiderable amount of time.

Finally, he pulled away from you just far enough to speak. “…no?”

For your own sake, you decided to believe him.

Kaveh

“Kaveh.”

“Not now, treasure.”

“Go to bed.”

“I will, in another hour.”

“You need to get some sleep.”

“I’ve already told you – I’m fine.” He narrowed his eyes, expression contorted by concentration. “Knight to B4.”

“Kaveh,” you repeated, leaning across the table. “You were showing me your blueprints.”

“Oh.” He blinked several times, looking over the sheet of blue paper marked with chalk drawings and near indecipherable hand-writing. “Were you impressed?”

Your frown irked, but you swallowed back your exasperation and pushed yourself to your feet. Slowly, you took him by the hand and, when he failed to protest, guided him out of his own seat and towards the room you were usually restrained to, when he wasn’t home. He’d kept himself awake for the past two nights, every moment of the past forty-eight hours devoted to finishing his proposal for a wealthy commissioner’s summer mansion before its upcoming deadline and, now that the coffee had been drained from his system and his adrenaline had been given time to fade, he was practically a shell of a man – all dark circles and hunched posture and disheveled blonde hair.

Sleep deprivation was, by far, the worst thing he could inflict on himself. At least he was happy after he drunk himself into oblivion. This was just depressing; as miserable for him as it was for you.

With a dutifulness you shouldn’t have had to show to your lover-turned-stalker-turned-captor, you brought him to his bed and watched as he collapsed onto it, what little strength he had to hold himself up immediately dissolving. With a sigh, a roll of your eyes, you turned to leave, but a hand lashed out from the crumpled heap and caught you by the wrist. “Stay with me?” His voice was muffled by layers of sheets and blankets, but clear enough. “Please?”

Usually, his bids for affection were met with bitter neutrality or, on your worse days, spiteful condensation. Usually, you would’ve torn yourself out of his hold and made sure he knew that he’d ruined any chance of living out his little domestic fantasy the second he decided his obsession was worth more than your happiness. Usually, you would’ve hated him that much more for daring to ask.

But, he could barely hold his eyes open and when you failed to immediately recoil, the sloppiest, most lovesick smile you’d ever seen plastered itself across his lips. It was his turn to pull you forward, this time; to drag you onto his bed and into his chest. With a satisfied sigh, he slotted his chin against the dip of your shoulder and draped his arms around your waist – an old position. A relic of better times you’d never been strong enough to completely dicard. “When it’s time to draw up the plans for our home,” he mumbled, only half-audible. “I won’t so much as breathe until its perfect.”

You opened your mouth, but didn’t say anything.

He’d already fallen asleep.

Tighnari

He glanced once at the thick packet of ink-marked parchment you’d slammed in front of him before looking back to you, his expression disparaging. “And this is supposed to be…?”

“A custody agreement,” you answered, grinning. “Alhaitham put it together during his last visit.”

“We don’t have any kids.”

“It’s for Collei. If I ever leave you,” and, to be clear, you would be leaving him, as soon as you figured out how to get away from a man who poisoned your tea whenever you so much as suggested entertaining a future that didn’t include him, “I want weekends and summers.”

“She’s nineteen.”

“Which is why we’re letting her pick who she wants to spend holidays with.” You tapped the front page with your knuckles. “Honestly, dear, if you weren’t going to so much as read the documents, we could’ve scheduled this for another day.”

His ears twitched, his tail sweeping across the floor in irritation. “Even if this was legally binding – which, by the way, something assembled by a scribe would not be – I would never give you weekends. That’d be too much travelling for a girl in her condition, and I don’t want her to feel like she comes from a broken home. Moreover, according to Regulation #531 as passed by the Grand Sage last year, you would have to get Collei’s signature before—”

“Check page twenty-seven.”

You watched him scowl as he thumbed through the pages. A second later, his ears flattened against his scalp, and he took to muttering under his breath. “Traitor.”

“If you don’t want your aggression towards the dependent party used against you in court, I’d suggest you sign on page four, seventeen, and thirty-two.”

You left his villa half an hour later with a with a new imprint of his fangs on the side of your throat and a signed document in-hand.

Cyno

“You have kidnapped me.”

“Technically, I was only—”

“You’ve blackmailed me, imprisoned me, and tortured me.”

“You can’t still be hung up on—”

“You’ve branded me with your name, forced me into your bed, and made me play out all your delusional, fucked-up fantasies—” You took a deep breath, pursed your lips. “—but if you show up to a black-tie event wearing that, it will be the worst thing you’ve ever done to me.”

He looked down, as if considering his attire for the first time. He was in his usual uniform – which was to say, shirtless and barefoot, his hair windblown and a fine layer of sand still coating what little he was wearing. You could only be thankful his polearm wasn’t slung across his back, but you knew he’d make it past the door without it. “The way I dress has never been a problem before.”

“There’s a difference between hunting down rouge scholars and going to a banquet being held by a literal god. Archons, Lesser Lord Kusanali herself might be there.” You gasped, dragged your hands over your face. “Everyone who’s ever gone to the Akademiya will absolutely be there.”

For all his many faults, he could never stand to see you in pain. There was a brief delay, a moment of unsure shuffling, then his arms were wrapping around you, his chest slotting against your back has he pulled you against him. “It’ll be alright,” he muttered, speaking into your shoulder. “If anyone so much as attempts to insult you—no, if anyone tries to talk to you at all, I’ll strike them down in the blink of an eyes.”

His comfort was stale, but you forced yourself to relax. At least enough to speak. “You know,” you mumbled, letting your hands drift to your temples. “Dehya was hired by an up-and-coming scholar, a few weeks ago. I’m not sure how long her contract was, but there’s a chance we’ll see her tonight.”

There was a beat of silence, then another.

“Cyno?”

“I’ll change.”

Wriothesley

You could hear him trudging up the metallic stairs to his office; his footsteps heavy enough to drown out the soft music flowing out of his century-old gramophone. His head emerged from the curving staircase, first – his hair somehow more disheveled than its usual state of barely-tamed chaos – then his chest, his tie undone and his collar terribly mangled, as if he’d spent all day indulging the worst of his nervous habits. He was baring his teeth, his pale cheeks flushed with anger and his eyes narrowed into a pointed glare. It wasn’t quite the reaction you’d hoped for (in your wildest dreams, he would’ve managed to sink his beloved fortress before he ever reached you), but it was close enough.

You moved to stand, to greet him with the warm embrace he usually demanded, but he was already in front of you, already pinning you to the back of the lounge you’d been splayed across with a single fist planted less than a hair’s width above your shoulder. “You,” he growled, leaning in close enough for his breath to fan over your skin. “Do you know how many journalistsI had to deal with today? They were everywhere. I couldn’t go a step without tripping over some— over some glorified tabloid.”

“So, your meeting with Monsieur Neuvillette went well?” His scowl deepened, and you let out your most faux innocent laugh – a chiming, bubbling thing he’d never been able to stand. “You shouldn’t scowl like that, love. All those photographers will have to find a new model if you manage to give yourself frown lines.”

He jolted, but forced himself to shut his eyes, to let out a long, ragged breath. When he did face you again, he’d regained a degree of his composure – just enough to meet your smile with his own tight-lipped grin, more teeth than anything. “I’ll let you off easy if you tell me how you did it now. Before I decide it’d be faster to strangle an explanation out of you.”

“I didn’t break any rules, if that’s what you’re worried about.” You paused, folded your hands over your lap. “It was all thanks to our great and benevolent duke. Contacting people outside of the fortress has gotten so much more efficient ever since you decided prisoners should be able to send letters without administrative vetting.”

He buckled visibly, his shoulders falling as he lean towards you, his face soon buried in the dip of your shoulder. “You’re gonna be the death of me, sweetheart.” There was a raspy chuckle, a hand on your thigh, squeezing just hard enough for his anger to shine through the playfulness of the gesture. “I think I’ve earned the rest of the day off, and I think you’ve earned—”

The door to his office swung open before he could finish, a masculine voice calling up from the voice below only a moment later. “Your grace, t-there’s a reporter here to see you! She says she’s been told not to leave until she speaks to your partner!”

“That’ll be Charlotte,” you half-sung. “She seemed like such a nice girl in her letters. It’d be a shame to keep her waiting.”

When he failed to answer, you brought up both hands and cupped his face, cooing as you used your thumbs to quirk the corners of his mouth upward.

“Just remember to smile for the camera this time, alright?”

#yandere #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere genshin impact #genshin impact #genshin x reader #yandere genshin x reader #genshin imagines #genshin x you #alhaitham x reader #yandere alhaitham #yandere neuvillette #neuvillette x reader #yandere kaveh #kaveh x reader #yandere tighnari #tighnari x reader #yandere cyno #cyno x reader #yandere wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #yanderecore #yancore

[ghostfacd]

WIRED AUTOCOMPLETE. | TOM BLYTH

PAIRING. tom blyth x fem!actress!reader

SUMMARY. in which you and tom make a special appearance on wired’s autocomplete interview

installment of this au | recommend reading for more context

“Hi — we’re Y/N Avocot and Tom Blyth — and this is the Wired Autocomplete Interview!”

You’re both handed a white board, bigger than your face, and there’s a list of questions with some of the words covered.

“Do you want to go first?” Tom asks, giving you a small smile.

“Yes! I’m pretty excited actually,” you begin to peel off the first question. “Okay, first question: what was Y/N Avocot’s first role?”

You think for a moment, “well in terms of roles in general, my first acting role was very small and I believe it was for this ice cream commercial as a kid. I’m not sure if it’s still up but my mom had signed me up for it and they thought I was a really cute kid so they casted me.”

Tom laughs, “really?” He then retrieves his board from the crew. “Okay my turn. Why does Coriolanus Snow turn evil?”

That question makes you slightly giggle, because it’s so broad that it’s nearly impossible for Tom to narrow down exactly what it is that made Coriolanus suddenly switch. “I believe you should be asking Suzanne Collins, shout-out to her for making the entire trilogy and prequel. But honestly? I think he was always power hungry, and even though Tigris tried her very best to bring out the humanity in him, it was just never enough. Especially after Sejanus’s death, I think Coriolanus realized there was no going back.”

“Oh wow,” you say, very impressed with how he decided to answer it. “That was a terrific answer Tom.”

“Thank you m’lady.” You giggle at his antics, rolling your eyes jokingly.

“What role does Y/N Avocot play in The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes?” You clear your throat, imitating one of your character’s iconic resting bitch face.

“I play Balleona Laurent, duh.” You joke. “Anyway, yes, I play Balleona, also known as Leona. She’s originally from the Capitol just like Coriolanus. They met at the academy and she automatically knew she had to have him. She comes from the Laurent family, which is a very very wealthy, well off, intimidating family that Coriolanus knows he just has to get into, which is why they start dating. I don’t wanna spoil too much of Leona and Corio in the movie, soooo you guys should definitely check it out!”

“Alright,” Tom adjusts himself in his seat, ripping off the paper for the next question. “Does Tom Blyth have a girlfriend?”

He pretends to think, which makes you bite your lip, suppressing a laugh. “Hmm, very complex question.”

“Oh give the people what they want!” You tease, “yes he does. He’s inlove with Jennifer Lawrence.”

“I am not inlove with Jennifer Lawrence!” He exclaims quickly, “although I greatly admire her work. My girlfriend is Y/N Avocot over here, sadly.”

“Sadly?!” You fake offense, “cut the cameras. I’m gonna beat Tom up.”

You peel away at your next question, the interview already being loads of fun for the both of you. “Is Y/N Avocot a good singer?”

Your head falls forward, and Tom’s automatic instinct is to catch you, not realizing you’re only joking. “Oh God, I hope so!” You say, laughing as you pick your head up. “I’m no Mariah Carey but I like to think I’m a pretty okay singer.”

“More than okay,” Tom chimes in, which makes you laugh.

“Aw, thanks Tom.”

Tom reaches to peel another question off. “Is Tom Blyth American?” This question makes you almost spit out the water you were currently taking a sip out of. “Well, a lot of people get shocked when I say I’m from the UK. I mean, is my American accent that good?”

“Guess so,” you shrug. “Okay next. Is Y/N Avocot in The Summer I Turned Pretty?”

You clasp your hands together excitedly, giving the camera a wide smile. “Yes! I play Maekella Fisher, also known as Ella Fisher, Steven Conklin’s love interest and sister to Conrad and Jeremiah. The first season airs out soon so please stay tune for that! I’m so excited to be apart of this amazing show with such amazing people.”

“I always come to watch her on set,” Tom says, “they’re all such funny and charismatic people. I swear I’ve became friends with everyone on Y/N’s cast.”

“Okay, my last question,” Tom peels off the paper, grinning. “Will Tom Blyth star in another movie soon?”

He smirks, eyes playfully looking into the camera. “Who knows? But I do know that something exciting will be coming out soon so prepare yourselves!”

“Way to tease the crowd Blyth,” you say, rolling your eyes. “Anyway! My last question, this was quick. What is Y/N Avocot’s skincare routine? Oh, I’ve been waiting for this one.”

You sit on the edge of your seat, and Tom finds it endearing that you’re so excited about something as small as this.

“First, I rinse my face with cold water and I dip my face in a bowl of ice and water for 3 minutes. Afterwards, I put on my dewy toner from Innisfree, it’s so smooth and nice. Sometimes I’m too lazy for this step but I also put on sunscreen, it’s important so I always remind myself to not forget— but I love to use Supergoop Unseen’s Sunscreen. I use drunk elephant’s bronze drops if I wanna go for a sunkissed look that day, but I usually don’t. And then I just shake my Tower facial spray and spray it all over my face. Usually, I touch up my eyebrows and do my eyeliner but that’s really about it!”

“It’s true,” Tom adds. “She asked me if I could go buy her the tower spray yesterday because she was almost out.”

“No need to expose me like that,” you say, clinging your arms onto his. “Well thank you guys for watching!”

“Thank you!” Tom and you wave at the camera, smiling brightly.

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow angst #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow x reader #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth #tbosbas #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games x reader #the hunger games

[demontobee]

Good Omens is queering TV/storytelling - part 1: GAZE

I would argue that part of why Good Omens is so refreshingly queer is because it does not cater to the male gaze (which centers around the preferences - aesthetic, romantic, sexual, visual, logical, emotional, political ... - of mainly white men in positions of power):

no oversexualization of groups or types of people: Women or characters that could be read as female presenting are not overly sexualized. In fact, some of them are shown to be grimy, slimy and not sexual at all. All of them are real characters and not just cardboard-cutout on-screen versions of male misogynistic fantasies. They portray real people with real people problems. They are human, or exempt from our categories when portraying angels or demons. There are no overly sexualized bodies in general (as has so far also often been the case with young gay men, PoC, etc.), no fetishization of power imbalances, and not exclusively youthful depiction of love and desire.

sex or sexual behavior is not shown directly (yet): All imagery and symbolism of sex and sexuality is used not to entice the audience but is very intimately played out between characters, which makes it almost uncomfortable to watch (e.g., Aziraphale being tempted to eat meat, Crowley watching Aziraphale eat, the whole gun imagery).

flaunting heteronormativity: Throughout GO but especially GO2, there is very little depiction of heterosexual/romantic couples; most couples are very diverse and no one is making a fuss about it. There is no fetishization of bodies or identities. Just people (and angels and demons) being their beautiful selves (or trying to).

age: Even though Neil Gaiman explained that Crowley and Aziraphale are middle-aged because the actors are, I think it is also queering the idea of romance, love and desire existing mainly within youthful contexts. Male gaze has taught us that young people falling and being in love is what we have to want to see, and any depiction of love that involves people being not exactly young anymore is either part of a fetishized power imbalance (often with an older dude using his power to prey on younger folx) or presents us with marital problems, loss of desire, etc. – all with undertones of decay and patronizing sympathy. Here, however, we get a beautifully crafted, slow-burn, and somehow super realistic love story that centers around beings older than time and presenting as humans in their 50s figuring out how to deal with love. It makes them both innocent and experienced, in a way that is refreshing and heartbreaking and unusual and real.

does not (exclusively) center around romantic/sexual love: I don’t know if this is a gaze point exactly but I feel like male gaze and resulting expectations of what a love story should look like are heavily responsible for our preoccupation with romantic/sexual love in fiction – the “boy gets girl” type of story. And even though, technically, GO seems to focus on a romantic love story in the end, it is also possible to read this relationship but also the whole show as centering around a kind of love that goes beyond the narrow confines of our conditioned boxed-in thinking. It seems to depict a love of humanity and the world and the universe and just the ineffability of existence as a whole.

disability as beautiful and innate to existence: Disability is represented amongst angels by the extremely cool Saraqael and by diversely disabled unnamed angels in the Job minisode. Representation of disability is obviously super important in its own right, but is also queers what we perceive as aesthetically and ontologically "normal". Male gaze teaches us that youth and (physical and mental) health are the desirable standard and everything else is to be seen as a deviance, a mistake. By including disability among the angels, beings that have existed before time and space, the show clearly states that disability is a beautiful and innate part of existence.

gender is optional/obsolete: Characters like Crowley, Muriel and others really undermine the (visual and aesthetic) boundaries of gender and the black-and-white thinking about gender that informs male gaze. Characters cannot be identfied simply as (binary) men or women anymore just by looking at them or by interpreting their personalities or behaviors. Most characters in GO, and especially the more genderqueer ones, display a balance of feminine and masculine traits as well as indiosyncracies that dissolve the gender binary.

Feel free to add your own thoughts on this in the comments or tags!

#good omens s2 #good omens #good omens 2 #go2 #good omens meta #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #queer #queer TV #male gaze #thank you neil gaiman for cranking up the queer #neil gaiman #thank you neil gaiman

[dollwrites]

ʀᴇᴠᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴs ! ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ʀᴀғᴀʏᴇʟ

*part two / continuation of mistaken identity. can be read as a stand-alone but i recommend reading part one first.

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!bff!reader, sex toys mentioned but not used, mentions of condoms but not used, cum marking, playful objectification / name calling ( toy, fucktoy), has absolutely no spoilers or deep lore, all characters featured are aged 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ please reblog && leave feedback.. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3

where was it?

where was it?!

your heart was thumping rapidly against your rib cage as you hurried to the wardrobe in Rafayel’s bedroom and grabbed the latches. flinging it open, you’d hoped to see that damned fake ass sitting in a corner under a lump of his laundry. unfortunately, you dug and dug and dug, and hit only the bottom of the closet.

damn it, Rafayel, where did you hide it?!

although you hadn’t exactly expected it to still be spread eagle on his bed by the time you crept away from a very distracted painter, you were starting to panic. it wasn’t in any of the drawers beside his bed or in the closet. you took a step back with a soft breath, placing both hands on your hips. wrapped between your fingers in your dominant grasp was the cerulean lace that you were very, very well acquainted with.

the panties you’d had no choice but to wear lest you dribble your best friend’s cum from your freshly fucked cunt as you wobble-snuck out through the back door— the same panties that belonged to Rafayel’s sex toy. it was unfortunate that he’d moved her, and had you not known Rafayel well enough to know that he probably hadn’t noticed the missing panties, you would’ve been concerned that you were busted. thankfully, however, his sheets and the duvet were still wadded haphazardly atop the mattress. it looked like the same, warm mess that you’d crawled off of after he’d fucked you.

however, there was still the issue of the disappearing rear end.

“Where…” your whisper trails off, eyeline drifting to the bed again.

under it, perhaps?

quickly, you lap the room, past the door ajar, and drop to your knees. flipping the sagging sheets over the corner, your shoulders wind as you lean as close to the floor as you can, worming partially beneath the bed frame. your phone makes an appearance, clicking the flashlight button, you illuminate the narrow gap between his bed and the floor. surprisingly lacking junk, a discarded paintbrush with a maroon hue hardened on the bristles exempt, there was nothing of note. “Really?” you whisper, exasperated, before you heard a soft chuckle.

nearly bumping your head when your muscles jump involuntarily when you’re startled, you shimmy out from beneath his bed and look over your left shoulder. much to your dismay, the owner of the bed was propped against the frame of his open door, his arms crossed over his chest, the buttons on his white shirt unbuttoned just below his throat, flashing a glimpse of his collarbones.

crap.

the way that his ombré eyes followed you, twinkling mischievously, made a knot form in your stomach, but you slowly sit up, leaning back into the mattress. “I—I didn’t hear you come in.” you tried to sound casual, but Rafayel had just caught you red-handed, halfway underneath his bed and you had absolutely no idea how you were going to explain this away.

“I could tell by the way you jumped,” Rafayel counters, quirking a brow, curiously. “Whatcha doing?”

double crap.

your mind races, trying to come up with an answer that would be funny and misdirecting at the same time, but all that came out was the bogus reason you’d given him when you crept away in the first place. “I told you I was going to the bathroom.” you offered halfhearted.

Rafayel wasn’t convinced. “Uhhuh,” he replies, faux pensive as he takes a step closer, “did you forget where it was?” finally revealing what you dreaded, a smirk tickles his soft, pink tiers. “Or were you looking for something?”

you start to reject the notion adamantly, but when you sucked in the breath, you paused, and looked down at the scene he witnessed. you, digging under his bed, with a flashlight in one hand and a pair of panties that he probably bought in the other. your heart sinks to your stomach at the prospect of coming clean, but you knew you didn’t have a choice. “Rafa, listen—“ i’m so sorry, please forgive me. i didn’t mean for it to go that far. i should’ve told you. i promise i’m not a total creep. you didn’t know which of these sentiments were going to win the race to the tip of your tongue.

“I threw it out.” Rafayel interrupted, crossing the bedroom to stand in front of you in a couple of swaggering steps, before he extends one hand for you to take so he can help you up. at the moment, though, you merely stare at him, perplexed, so he adds in a soft, telling tone. “I didn’t need it anymore. After all, I got a new one this morning.” instead of offering it anymore, Rafayel flicks his wrist and the tips of his fingers dance along your cheek, warm as a toaster. your eyes widen slightly at this, your lips parting, but no sound comes out as you’re sat in stunned silence. his fingers, however, do not pause and trace the shape of your open lips, his eyes following the movement for a moment before his smile softens, his lips hardly moving as he murmurs, holding in a breathless chuckle. “You didn’t actually believe that I had no idea it was you, did you?”

“I… had hoped.” you mumbled hopelessly, inching up the side of the mattress until you can sit on the corner, looking down at the evidence in your hands as you sheepishly as your fist swallows the panties. your shoulders slumped in hopelessness, “You knew all along?” but Rafayel only lets free a chortle.

“What a shameful expression.” he notes aloud, before his fingers tuck beneath your chin and tilt it upwards, urging you to look up at him. it is only when you do that you realize he’s leaned down, his chin jutted out, his lips inches from yours. his voice is low and husky, “I’d be truly clueless to mistake a tight, warm pussy spasming and stretching around me for a lifeless, boring slab of silicone.” his eyes search yours as he speaks, looking for any hint of reluctance for him to be so close, but when he sees none, he adds, “I haven’t been able to think about good you feel. Your grip on my cock when I pushed it in,” breathing out each syllable, Rafayel places one hand behind you, moving closer. upon instinct, you scoot back. he inhales, his other hand planting itself at your side as his knee digs into the mattress to walk you back with torturous slowness, “how wet you became when I fucked you hard, how your pussy clenched and siezed when you came…” both knees now nudging your own apart, he crawls over you, until you fall back against the mountain of feather-soft pillows you’d been hidden under only hours before. you’re flat, staring up at his lean, looming figure, his face lingering close enough to feel the heat from his own, pinkened cheeks as he sighs, allowing a fraction of his weight to press against you, pinning you to the bed.

a very familiar shape— his hard cock through the stiff fabric of his trousers, prods at the inside of your thigh, eager to feel the warmth that your pussy provided, and Rafayel whispers to you an admission of guilt. “I tried to replicate that tightness, the warmth, when I jerked off in the shower, but I couldn’t make it feel as good as you. I only frustrated myself, and have been suffering ever since.”

“Suffering seems like an exaggeration…” you whisper only half joking, but you’re distracted; your eyes flicker down to where his body rubs against yours, the garments shifting and creating an annoying friction. he seems to feel the same way, because Rafayel is stripping you even as you speak, pushing your top and your bra up into a bunched up mess around your neck and jerking your shorts and panties down. you don’t resist in the slightest, even going so far as to lift your bottom so he can undress you easier. both of your hands let go of their anchors— the phone and the cerulean panties, and go to his shirt, instead, unbuttoning it with eager, quick movements.

“Don’t pretend that you don’t also feel it.” Rafayel’s gaze is deep and longing, his voice thick and accusatory. “It’s been torturous, and it’s all your fault. This is your fault.” his voice is pointed, and he grasps your wrist, guiding your palm to press against the throbbing tent in his pants. your fingers twitch, desiring nothing more than to tighten, to massage and fondle the package so tightly wrapped, so you do just that. you feel him fully in your hand, and Rafayel moans a soft, encouraging moan. “Let me fuck you again, just lay here for me like a pretty, little toy.” it wasn’t quite a demand, but also not entirely a plea— something in between.

but when his voice lilts with unbridled desire, you almost can’t help but melt to his whim. you thought about telling him that you were not a sex toy— not at all a hunk of silicone for him to fuck when he felt the urge, but you didn’t. in fact, you swooned at the thought of being that worthless junk’s replacement.

because, truth be told, you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the way Rafayel felt when he throbbed inside you.

“This is going to ruin our friendship…” you offered a half-hearted argument, but your fingers were already scrambling to unzip and free his cock from the cloth restraints of his pants. when your fingers wrap around skin, getting a feel for him, he moans, and shimmies what’s left of his garments down his legs, kicking them into the floor.

“It already has.”

those three words rang truer than you’d been prepared for, even huskily breathed as Rafayel leans over you, his palm smacking against the bedside table. ever since this morning, when you so much as sat close enough to feel his body warmth, you’d remembered for and longed to feel him fucking you with reckless abandon once more. every breath he took, every sigh that left his lips, reminded you of how he sounded when he was inside of you. and, if his confession was to be believed, he also couldn’t stop thinking about it.

the friendship was already fucked.

all you could do now would be to nurture this new development.

Rafayel hooked his fingers around the gilded handle of the drawer and pulled it open, before fishing around blindly and retrieving a prophylactic between his first, two fingers. had you been his friend in that moment, you might’ve teased him for having condoms readily available. after all, you’d not known Rafayel to date many women. however, as his lover, your heart leapt into your throat in anticipation. but that condom that he was about to tear open with his teeth would rob you of that delicious, raw feeling of him with nothing in between. so, your free hand fled to clap against his wrist and stop his movements. “No need for that.” Rafayel pauses, staring at you perplexed, his plushy lips parted. your eyes sparkled as he poured his ombré gaze into yours, reading everything left unspoken. the time to take care has fled with the friendship, because you craved his cock— and would refuse any alterations. your back arches, and you writhe on his bed, slinking down underneath him until your body is in the perfect position to be taken. legs bent up towards your chest, feet sticking out on each end, and you keep your grasp on his base until you can give him a light and persuading pull, guiding the flared tip to split your sticky folds. “Just fuck me…” your breath whistles in a soft hiss through your teeth when the first couple of inches slip inside, slow and steady, and your hand moves from his base to plant itself flat against his pelvis, feeling the muscles beneath your fingers tighten as he pushes inside you. “Fuck your toy…”

Rafayel grunts upon entry, because your walls spasm and ecstatically welcome him home. “I missed this pussy.” smiling, practically drunk on the scent of your arousal and his own thickening the air surrounding you, his hands push against your knees, spurring your legs further apart, as he sets his pace. long, deep strokes with firm, punctuating hip snaps so that his cock could pummel your spongy nerves. each time he bottoms out, the force coaxes a moan from your open lips, your body bucking beneath him, breasts jiggling in tandem with his pace. at first, you close your eyes, brows furrowed close as you focus on the sensation of being pounded and listen to Rafayel’s panting above you. there’s not a sweet spot that he didn’t reach— from the bulging veins on his length rubbing against the grooves in your walls, to the bulbous head of his cock battering your g-spot. it was a much more calculated fucking this time; Rafayel was going to have you in the most carnal of ways. he made that clear.

your nails dug into the warmth on his hips, but you only used your vices to pull him in deeper, demanding with grips and moans that he give you everything he had to offer. you hear him hiss— whether from the pleasure of your cunt tight around his cock or the pain of your nails biting at his flesh, you can’t be too sure, but he obliges, pounding deeper. harder. faster. “M—more!” you cry out, your body undulating beneath his, eager to take every inch. small droplets of perspiration escape from his jaw as it lingers over you, raining on to your cheeks. “More!”

“Fuck,” Rafayel moaned out loud, pushing your legs back even further until he could lay his chest on the backs of your knees, pinning you to the bed with his body weight. “I’ve never had such a greedy fucktoy before.” there’s a playfulness in his strangled tone that is truly and utterly Rafayel. your eyes open, and glare at him, as if you’re ready to snap back, but he bottoms out inside you again, choking whatever sarcastic remark you had back into a pathetic gurgle of pleasure before he leans in and sighs heavily against your lips, “Don’t you dare give me that look, I wasn’t done. I was going to say that I love how greedy you are.” from this angle, with every inch of his body slick with sweat and pressed against you, he can reach even deeper. his balls, warm and heavy, smack against your ass when he pumps against your limit over and over, almost as if he wishes he could worm his way into your cervix. “Take it deep for me, greedy girl. Come on, come on,” he croons and his head droops forwards, closer to your face. his own is a pretty scarlet-kissed hue, his typically clear eyes are dark and stormy with lust, and you knew before he moaned, “I’m so close. Gonna cum.”

you weren’t quite there yet, you needed a little more, but you could do very little than to grip the sheets underneath you when Rafayel rode out the force of his orgasm. rough, eager thrusts that had your head spinning, and your body twitching and jumping when he suddenly ripped his cock from inside you, leaving that familiar, sickening hollowed out feeling. he did so just in time to cast streamers of warm, white release over the lips of your used pussy, moaning your name as he sat up on his knees, one hand jerking himself off to ensure he got every last drop of his cum on your cunt. your thighs were trembling so Rafayel kept his free hand on one of them, holding you steady so he can finish his masterpiece on you.

“You were almost there, weren’t you?” he asks, breathlessly, when his satiated cock lays against his thighs. he releases it, and instead, runs his fingers up between your nerherlips, pressing the pads on your clit to rub it in fierce circles. the motion smears his release deeper into your folds, fully marking you as his plaything, but you’re much too focused on how good it feels when he strums you like this. “I want to make my pretty, greedy little fuck toy cum, too.” your button throbs against his fingers, your back arching, so he focuses the pressure a bit more precisely, scrubbing his fingertips back and forth over your clit. your eyes, eyelids droopy and all, peer up at the sight of him kneeling between your quaking thighs, his hand moving back and forth, his stare glued to your soiled pussy, and you come undone right then and there, swimming through the sea of bedding as your orgasm possesses you.

Rafayel didn’t seem as though he was totally finished, even when the aftershocks wracked your body, because his fingers still teased your poor clit; and when you inched back, he followed. “T—too much!” you squeal, flipping over on to your belly. you’re entangled in his sheets, damp and smelling of sex, with your ass jumping and overstimulated, squirming until you’ve managed to scramble away from his devilish, svelte fingers. he chuckles at the sight, and allows you to escape, before he crawls over to you and rubs your back to ease you out of this stimulated state. “I never thought you’d cum so hard, I’ll have to be careful with you, hm? Don’t want my new toy to break.” he chuckles, his slick fingertips tracing your spine. he leans down, kissing your shoulder with parted lips. “My new, favorite toy.”

#rafayel #rafayel x reader #rafayel x you #rafayel smut #lads #lads rafayel #lads x reader #lads x you #lads smut #l&ds #love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace smut #love and deepspace x you #love and deepspace rafayel

[inzaynety]

ice, ice, baby! ⤫

➢ summary: your boyfriend seeks warmth the same way every time

➢ content: zayne x reader; 1259 words; fluff; one (1) suggestive joke if u squint; cold fingers lol; can be read as gn!reader

➢ notes: my first fic in a long time, i missed writing. hope you like it <3

Despite the nature of his evol, Zayne doesn’t do too well in the cold. 

You’ve seen it when getting caught in the rain where his hair and clothes were drenched and a seemingly permanent scowl was on his face. He was very quick to usher you both to a hot shower and didn’t even let you leave his side until he deemed himself warm enough. 

You’ve encountered it when he would pick up your drink orders and as he places your iced beverage down in front of you, he retracts his hand to clench and unclench before drying it off on a napkin from the condensation. He sits down across from you and you pretend not to have seen anything when he looks like he wants to put his gloves back on.

You even noticed it when he would lounge on the couch after a long day’s shift wrapped in a blanket, bundled in with a comfy sweater you purchased for him as he nodded in and out of sleep. This was one of the rare times that you had been the one to tell him off about getting a good night's rest. 

Of course, you adored his actions. They were endearing for a man of such stoic nature and you’d be damned if that all went away. All except one, however. 

You’re both relaxing on that same comfy couch, a show in the background that is nothing more than background noise to the rain hitting against the glass of your apartment. Zayne has you in his lap, his hands resting comfortably on your waist as you lean back on his chest as you feel his fingers tap your sides occasionally. There wasn’t a set rhythm or anything as he was doing it idly. 

No words are exchanged through the muffled sounds of rain and TV show characters for a good amount of time, so you decide to nestle further into him, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“Sleepy?” He asks in a low voice. His actions don’t stop but it has you feeling content with your position even more. So you nod. He hums in response and brings his arms to wrap around you more. You’re about to fall asleep until you feel the sharp iciness right on your skin. 

You jolt in his hold and reflexively grab his wrists. His fingers had slipped under your shirt and you had lost the barrier protecting you from the unpleasant cold. 

“Zayne!” You narrow your eyes at him after whipping your head around. A hint of a smile is threatening to break on his lips but he knows he can’t let that through. Not if he wanted to see a deeper furrow in your brows.

“Sorry, I thought I could warm up a bit faster.” He doesn’t seem apologetic when he brings you back to him to place his hands and fingers in the exact same spot. You squirm but he doesn’t let you go, only rubbing the skin as he gradually gets warmer and warmer. 

You huff and take it upon yourself to turn in his lap to come face to face with him. Zayne only looks up at you expectantly. You don’t say anything just yet but you do take one of his hands and lift it up to cup in both of your own. Just like that your expression grows concerned. 

“Is your evol acting up again? I told you this would happen if you didn’t take that nap during overtime.” Zayne chuckles and shakes his head. He loves that you care about him even if you needed to show your annoyance first. 

“Not anymore that it already is,” is what he says. It’s not really an answer to his nearly freezing temperature and it definitely doesn’t assuage your worries. 

“But—“

“I swear.” He says firmly, looking you right in the eye. You don’t question that any further. 

“Okay, then why not use your gloves? Or the blanket over there?” You say with a lilt and it lightens the mood a little. “I was so close to sleep, you know?” 

Zayne smiles gently, bringing one of your hands with his now even warm one to his lips. He presses a kiss to the back of your hand before wrapping his arms around you once more. But there is a slight look of confusion on his face. 

“What do you mean?”

“Hm? Don’t those help you warm up much quicker? That’s how your coldness goes away, right?” Now you had gotten confused. 

At the sight of you he laughs again and shakes his head. He brings a hand to the back of your neck and you brace yourself, but are met with no cold whatsoever. His palm is warm. 

“What are you talking about? I always use you.”

“What?” Now it was your turn to be confused. “You don’t. Not when you get cold like this.”

Zayne looks amused. “Name an instance where I don’t.” You think to yourself and come back to the same scenarios.

“When it rains, you immediately take a hot shower when we get home,” Zayne looks like he’s expecting more to the answer.

“Am I alone?”

No, he takes you with him. But you assumed it was to save water. That and well, other things. But as you’re about to answer that you see that he’s serious. Like he’s waiting for you to realize something. Have you missed something?

You try to think back. Those rainy days happened more times to the both of you, more than one might think, so there was even a routine had another one of those days come. You’d rush all the way home and try not to leave too much of a trail of water to the bathroom before stripping down and hopping into the shower. 

You did recall always standing in proximity, heck, he would keep his hands resting on your legs as you sat in the bathroom counter whole towel drying his hair. There was no a moment his hands were keeping your close. 

“No… well, what about cold drinks? You always have your gloves on right away afterwards.” He does, but he’s sighs inwardly at the fact that you never notice that he reaches out to hold yours first, after wiping his hands on the napkin. Zayne always realizes that you flinch subconsciously but hold his back and it’s because the stark contrast of temperature surprises you. That’s why he puts his gloves on. Though, he does notice how much faster he warms up after your touch. 

He says as such. You’re taken aback. Really? Your face gives it away, He nods.

It’s like he can see how the cogs turn in your head as you can’t believe how you’ve missed the hidden adoration he holds for you. You know his little gestures of affection, but your focus on them really did cover up the obvious. Your face flushes and your cheeks feel warm so you think to cool them down with his cooler hands, lifting them to your face.

Zayne obliges and watches as you close your eyes in embarrassment. 

Your voice is small. “I’m sorry, I didn’t notice.” He only responds by pulling you forward to rest your head over his shoulder. He nuzzles himself into your neck and sighs. 

“There’s always something else going on in that brain of yours; I don’t mind it. Just," he pauses, lifting his head to press your foreheads together. He closes his eyes before softly finishing his thoughts.

“Stay here with me a little longer.”

#zayne x reader #love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #zayne love and deepspace #love and deepspace fluff #zayne fluff #fics

[tryslora]

On Writing Combat and Sex Scenes

Today I want to talk about writing sex and combat (and no, I do not mean combative sex). This post is inspired by a few recent events:

Once, a long time ago, I read a blog post that said “if you can write a combat scene, you can write a sex scene” and that was mind-blowing for me because while I was well-versed in writing erotica, I couldn’t write combat to save my life.

More recently, at Boskone, I participated on a panel about writing combat, and the research involved there-in.

Even more recently, I had someone look at me say, “You’re not a gay guy. How do you write gay sex scenes?”

So. Let’s begin.

I get it—sex and combat aren’t interchangeable. But at their core, they have some strong similarities which can be leveraged while writing. Both are intense, high drama, and can involve a lot of anxiety and quick thought. Both tend to narrow focus down to the moment and the current feeling and action. Both are heightened emotion and physical reaction. Both can involve actions that lie outside the author’s personal experience.

I started writing erotica when I was a freshman in college. I posted it online (does anyone remember rec.arts.erotica?) and was surprised (and pleased) by the compliments I received. Turned out my readers were not expecting the idea of emotion being entangled in their erotica. They were invested emotionally in how the stories went, and how my characters felt. Since I was writing from the point of view that made sense to me at the time, they were het stories from a female perspective, and they were very focused on the emotional connections and how the physical events heightened those emotions.

Male readers were surprised by the intensity of the feelings that these stories gave them (as opposed to pure arousal). It got me thinking about how I wrote, and why I wrote, and I tried to talk about it some at the time. I was eighteen. I was still a new writer. The internet itself was new. I wasn’t entirely certain how to frame it, but I remember getting one comment where a guy was surprised at how struck he’d been by the moment in the scene where everything shuddered to a halt due to an event in the story that interrupted the action, and I replied that that was because I wasn’t writing about the sex. I was writing about the character’s reaction to the sex.

Which has always been how I write. At the time, that was my only tool: put myself in the character’s mind, and write what they feel. If that’s affection and attraction and physical reaction, write that. Tangle it up, and hope the reader feels that entanglement.

Now, fast forward several years, and take a little side trip onto a tangent wherein I learned something very important about writing craft.

I was reading Syne Mitchell’s End in Fire, I think it was, and I kept having panic attacks. Now, I did most of my reading late, often when I woke in the middle of the night due to stress, or just because my brain refused to rest. I was in a rough place in life in general, with a lot of external work stuff going on and very small children. I wasn’t sleeping well. And it took me some time to figure out why I was struggling to read a book which I actually loved (and when I read it later in life, I enjoyed it greatly).

It was the sentence structure.

In order to induce the emotion of the scene, the sentences were short. Sharp. Quick. There was no time for the reader to breathe, much like there was no time for the heroine to do anything but act. The reader was caught up in the rising tension, to the point where my anxious, sleep-deprived brain, caught a panic attack from it.

The technique was brilliant.

Now back to our original timeline, wherein I read a post about how if you can write combat, you can write sex scenes. This post assumed that more people felt comfortable writing violence than sex. I was the reverse. I’d been writing about sex for over a decade when I saw this post, and it made a light bulb go off in my brain.

If writing sex was like writing combat… was the reverse also true? Could I improve my skills at writing battles by analyzing what worked when I wrote erotica?

So I tried doing just that. Back then, I found combat overwhelming. There was so much going on, and I was trying so hard to write good description that I lost all of the intensity. I was focusing on everything that was going on at the same time.

Thinking about how sex scenes were all intense emotion and narrowed focus, I applied that to my combat scenes. I wrote only what the point of view character experienced, and tied everything to their actions and reactions. I thought about how they breathed, how they moved, how they thought. I used those short, sharp sentences as they processed the scene. 

That doesn’t mean I forgot about everything else going on in the scene. That’s impossible. After all, in any story the things the character doesn’t pay attention to might be as important as the things they do focus on. Stuff still happens, and there is still fallout. I needed to know what else was happening so that if the character moved from one place to another, or did something that put them in the path of a different part of the action, I could have them start processing it.

But it also meant that on the page, out of sight was out of mind. Everything narrowed down to the now. The immediacy. Suddenly my combat scenes snapped into focus.

During the panel at Boskone, all of the panelists had experience with different fighting styles (fencing, street combat, and of course, me with taekwondo). I spoke about how for me, that narrow focus is very real when I spar. I know there are some people who naturally see a move or two ahead while fighting; I don’t. I am stuck in act and react mode. Can I kick them now? Can I attempt a head shot? Oh, no, circle back and away or they’re going to hit me… that’s how my brain works during a sparring match.

It’s not like a total blackout—there should be a vague awareness of things around the character. Sounds in particular, or sometimes flashes of movement. Something distracting can catch the attention of the fighter, but the personal fight will always pull the character back.

Combat feels easy when I’m writing like that.

Of course, there’s still the question of writing about something if I’ve never experienced it. As someone did point out to me: I am not a gay man, so how does that affect writing sex scenes? I’ve also never fought with a sword. Brawled. Fought from horseback. I have, however, held a blade, shot a gun, shot an arrow, rode a horse. I have a vague idea of how these things work, much like I have a working knowledge of sex in general.

So yes, research gets involved. Sometimes research is observational, sometimes it’s reading (there’s so much good stuff out there). I highly recommend video for combat scenes—find things that have the feel that you’re going for, then put yourself in the place of the character you want to write about. Practice. Work through the ideas of how things fit together, and what your character will (and will not!) know during the fight.

If you need to, stand up and block the scene by thinking about how you would experience it. What can you see, and what is out of sight? If someone is coming at you with a blade, what are your options? How do height differences affect you? Yes, I have asked friends and husband to help me block scenes. 

“Stand right there and show me what it looks like if you punch me. Okay, so if I do this then…” Yeah. It’s a thing. But it works.

When doing your research, remember that movie fighting (and hell, movie sex scenes) isn’t realistic. It’s meant to look good. For combat, if you can find re-enactments, or sparring videos, I highly recommend taking a look at those. 

Anyway, the point is: I don’t have to have shot someone, and I don’t have to have had gay sex in order to write about them. What I do need to know is how it feels emotionally to do those things, and I can extrapolate that from what I do know. I need to know enough about the details so I can get it right, and that’s where research will help me. Also, use language to create emotion. Because emotions are where we grab the reader, and how we pull them into the scene.

Combat and sex aren’t so different when it comes to writing, and the personal experience. Now, go forth and write!

#writing #writing resources #writing sex #writing combat

[ncteez]

charity f*ck (k.s)

Have you ever taken anyone’s virginity before? Well, yeah, your first time was both losing your own and taking someone else’s but, that was a long time ago. Have you ever taken the virginity of a twenty-six-year-old man who probably should have gotten laid by now anyway? Nope. Are you about to? Yep.

or the one where soonyoung has a streak of bad luck in bed and his friends make fun of him for it, you find him advertising himself on a dating app and decide to help him out.

ao3 | m.list | minors dni! | kindly leave feedback and reblog, i will kiss your forehead so fucking fast if you do. 

WORDCOUNT― 12.2k

PAIRING― soonyoung x afab reader 

CONTENT― virgin guy who lives with his parents!soonyoung, he’s not shy but he is very clumsy, a lot of texting so be prepared for that format for a lil bit (THIS IS NOT A SOCIAL MEDIA AU), facetime-sex, real life sex

SIDE CHARACTERS― Vernon as reader’s best friend and roommate, Seungcheol briefly as Hoshi’s friend.

WARNINGS― he’s made fun of by his friends for being a virgin, this is not an indication that you shouldn’t remain a virgin if you still are one! it’s fictional and i do not agree with mocking someone for their virginity in real life.

NOTE― i love him and i like the idea of him being clumsy during sex, i also like the idea of him being inexperienced but suuuuuuper eager to pretend he knows what he’s doing. shoutout to my redacted wife @onlyseokmins for proof reading this <3 

smut tags under cut:: 

smut tags―big huge dick soonyoung, phone sex (ish), face time sex,  masturbation, pet name: baby, making out, he eats you out twice, fingering, whining and whimpering, deep throating, premature ejaculation, desperate man wants his dick wet lmao, grinding, tit fondling/licking, clit stimulation, he bites the fuck out of his tongue to try and distract himself from coming too soon again,  no condom aka cream pie, soonyoung gets feelings like immediately when u touch him ~

“Check this shit out,” you laugh, presenting your phone to Vernon with a chuckle. “right or left?”

Vernon snorts, nearly spitting out the bite of food in his mouth as he reads the bio of the man you’re showing to him.

“Depends, you trying to take his innocence or are you trying to get railed so hard that the entire building can hear?” He narrows his eyes at you, making a point to call you out for keeping him awake last weekend. 

You wave him off with an apologetic look. To be fair, the dude from before knew how to make a girl moan, it’s not your fault that you managed to find a decent lay in this city. Even if he ghosted you, you assume you may have been a bad lay for him, if anything. 

“I wouldn’t mind trying something new, dude seems desperate.” You swipe through his photos, seeing that he appears to be just a normal dude with normal interests. “He’s cute too, so I’m swiping right.”

Vernon groans this time, slapping a hand to his forehead and glaring at you. 

“You’d better warn me if you end up bringing him home, I’m not about to listen to some guy start crying over a blowjob.”

You nod to him, sending a message to the eighty-six-year-old Soonyoung and feeling delighted at his near-instant response to you. 

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll make sure you’re out of the apartment if I invite him over,” You wiggle your brows as you stand to your feet and turn toward your room, eyes now glued to the open dating app’s messages. “Maybe you should go out and find a nice girl to rail to get back at me.”

“You’re so fucking weird.” Vernon laughs but feels kind of shitty because it’s not like he hasn’t been trying to get back at you for the loud sex. Guess he just doesn’t have the magic dick to make girls moan the way you do. 

Not that he wants to make you moan or anything, he definitely doesn’t. If anything, he wishes you were more like the girls he brings home.

~

You: i’ve never seen a virgin grandpa on this app before 

Soonyoung: ….i’m 26, it says that in my bio

You: I think you’re lying. 

Soonyoung: do u know how to change it, my bitch friends won't tell me lol

You: why would i help you lie to the women in our city

Soonyoung: i’m not lying!!1

You laugh to yourself as you text the new sex interest in your life, wondering if he’s lying about his presumed virginity. 

You: ok, twenty-six-year-old “hoshi” who is five miles away from me, you’re actually a virgin? Like for real?

Soonyoung: yea….are u here to make fun of me for it too? all the girls here just turn me down even if i offer to cook for them after

You: you’re really just looking to get laid for the first time, ever? and you’re offering to cook dinner too?

Soonyoung: yea

You: you’ve never had a blowjob or anything like that? you can’t seriously think I can believe you’re 26 and have never been laid, it’s not like you’re ugly or anything

Soonyoung: u don’t think im ugly? :) 

Soonyoung: and yea I’ve had a blowjob before

You: why didn’t you sleep with her then?

Soonyoung: can we stop talking about why im a virgin

You: for now, but im gonna ask again eventually.

You’re smiling at your phone, finding him charming and awkward in how he communicates with you via messenger. Of course, you’re curious as to why he’s a virgin, even more, curious as to why he’s on a dating app looking to lose said virginity. 

You: do you want my number? it’s embarrassing to have the app open in public if i wanna talk to you.

Soonyoung, on the other hand, is quite literally kicking his feet and checking your profile every few minutes just to look at you. He didn’t even think too hard about you calling him attractive then not following up on it, because the fact that you just offered your number to him in case you want to talk to him? Butterflies. Given, it’s juvenile for someone of his age to still be experiencing the typical high-school crush feelings, would anyone blame him? It’s just how he is, with or without having had sex. He can’t imagine not feeling giddy inside when he’s talking to someone that he thinks is pretty. 

Soonyoung: yea :) u can text me whenever [redacted phone number] 

You respond to him by texting his number rather than using the app messenger, screenshotting his contact info, and sending it to him with a sly smile. 

You: 

Grandpa Hoshi: :| 

Grandpa Hoshi: im 26

~

Okay so, here’s the thing. Soonyoung is undeniably funny, witty, and kind. Another thing, he’s wildly attractive. Especially upon fulfilling your request for a workout selfie from him. So, what gives? You read the texts he’s sent that made you laugh out loud, you look at his pictures, stare at the workout selfie, and you genuinely cannot understand how he doesn’t have women waiting in line to have at him. 

You: it’s been like four days since we started talking

Grandpa Hoshi: yep, almost five

You: four days of being friends but no mention of your bio on the app, yknow, where you’re begging to have sex for the first time ever?

Grandpa Hoshi: right, yea. you wanna do it? i didn’t wanna assume lol

You: not answering that til you explain why. i mean, it’s totally ok that you are but like, you’re a green flag all around so im a little worried you might have like a micropenis or something

Disclaimer, if he had a micropenis, you’d still let him use it on you. After all, hooking up is something you enjoy doing regardless of size.

Grandpa Hoshi: i do NOT have a micropenis

You: prove it

Grandpa Hoshi: right now???

You laugh to yourself but also like, it’s the first time the two of you have done anything more than bully each other. Or rather, you bully him and he defends himself constantly. 

You: answer my question first

It takes a few minutes for him to respond, but you’re doing coursework anyway so it’s not a huge deal. Totally not like your ears perk up and a smile creeps across your face every time your phone goes off or anything. Definitely not. 

Grandpa Hoshi: um… i still live with my parents and before u make fun of me for that pls understand that its not like i wanna be here 

Grandpa Hoshi: i have a job and everything!!! im not a mooch!

He’s getting off track again. You could honestly care less if he still lives with his parents. You wish you still lived with yours, to save money at least. 

You: they won’t let you have anyone over? 

Grandpa Hoshi: well, that too but 

Grandpa Hoshi: listen this sounds real stupid but it just never happened? even when i tried or things almost happened, it never did

You: damn, you’re unlucky. so what happened with the girl who gave you a blowjob?

Grandpa Hoshi: her boyfriend walked in

You: WHAT

You’re trying to pity him, honestly, but damn. Did he go for a taken girl? Yikes. You hate to admit the ick that just flooded your mind. 

Grandpa Hoshi: its not like i knew she had a boyfriend

You: phew 

Grandpa Hoshi: so yea. do u wanna help me out or not? 

The whole reason you started talking to him was specifically to help him out. Now that you know he’s not some weirdo, and is definitely super hot and funny, hell yes. 

You: yeah, sure. 

You: about the micropenis though, 

Grandpa Hoshi: right…um

A few minutes of silence, your coursework is long forgotten in the anticipation of receiving your first nude from Soonyoung. You wait, and you wait, and you wait.

You: i mean if you can’t prove it that's ok 

Grandpa Hoshi:  just give me a sec damn

He’s doing his best to get the most attractive angle. It’s not like he’s never sent nudes to anyone or anything, but like– this is you. The first person to actually agree to take his virginity. Should he hold it? Put a remote next to it for size? Should he have his face in the pic? Take a mirror pic? 

Of course, as he’s taking several pictures of his length to try and impress you, he had to get hard first. He can’t imagine you’d want a flaccid cock pic in your inbox, and that would also mean that he’s working himself up with the amount of touching, holding, and groping throughout the past sixteen photos he’s taken and deleted. It’s at the point that now it’s actually hard to care about taking a photo, pre-cum already dripping out of him as he continues to try.

He’s entered the realm of his regular horny self, only this time he’s texting you. Someone who wants to see what he’s packing. Taking a dick pic is insanely easy once he stops thinking with his brain, and he’s quick to send you a photo of himself this time. His chin at the top of the picture, face entirely hidden, hand wrapped around his thick and leaking cock, sweatpants shoved down. 

Grandpa Hoshi: [image attachment] 

In all fairness, you’ve never actually cared much for dick pics. Men always look too confident even with the smallest of girth being offered through the pixels. Soonyoung though. He looks a bit desperate even with his face hidden. His cock looks desperate, his fingers wrapped around it look desperate, the way his sweatpants hug against his thighs look desperate. And now, you feel desperate. You keep your cool though.

You: oh, you were jerking off, got it. 

Grandpa Hoshi: sorry can’t help it 

Then he doesn’t text you back. Which is kind of a drag because he looks to be quite big in the photo alone. Maybe you’d be okay just this once to look like the desperate one. Mostly because you’re about ten seconds from trying to figure out which direction five miles away he resides so you can go palm his cock for him. Plus, the idea of an absolute simp virgin like him seeing you act a little desperate would probably be one for the books. 

You: you know i can help you out with that, right? especially since you definitely don’t have a micropenis

You’re still being ignored. The silence from your phone makes your belly flip around inside of you at the image of him doing it too. He probably does it a lot. He’s probably desperate to feel good, you can imagine how he’d act if you were in front of him right now, the very idea of taking his virginity becoming entirely too attractive.

Shrugging, knowing full well what he’s doing right now in order to ignore you, you press the call button and wait. You’re a little bit nervous, mostly because you’ve never actually heard his voice before, or better yet how he sounds when he’s getting off. You’re shocked that he actually answers. 

“Hello?” He says, muffled through the phone and trying to sound not-so-out-of-breath. It’s not like he looked at who was calling him anyway. With his luck, it’s probably Seungcheol or some shit.

“Don’t hello me,” You gripe, narrowing your eyes at yourself in your mirror. “You’re just gonna jerk off without me after I agreed to help you fix your little problem?” 

The silence on his end is a bit nerve-wracking until you hear the frantic sound of his palm clearly wreaking havoc on him. You smirk, leaning back on your chair and sighing. On his end, processing that it was you on the other line sent his entire body into a state of burning with arousal. Your voice is sweet even when you speak with the same sarcasm as usual. God, this alone is enough for him right now. 

“Were you at least thinking of me?”

He hums into the phone, indicating that yes, that’s exactly what he’s doing. His voice is kind of soft despite only hearing one word and a hum, you want to actually hear him talk to you, or moan, whichever he decides. 

“Were you looking at my pictures?”

He nods his head, forgetting that you’re not able to see him and instantly responds with a small and breathy yes instead. It’s a bit difficult for him right now to talk, especially now that he can put a voice to the photos he’s been jerking off to. It’s a bit overwhelming, actually.

“Do you want better ones?” You ask, encouraging him to speak a bit more. 

“Oh god, really?” He asks through the speaker, his hand pausing on his length as if to hold off until you confirm. “Like, nudes?”

“Mhm, yeah. If you want.” You smile as you speak to him, already standing to shimmy your pajamas off of you and stand in front of the mirror. “Or, you know what would be better?”

Letting me come over and actually do it? That’s what he wants to say to you, but he doesn’t, he simply raises a brow.

“What?” He asks, still keeping his responses short because despite how into this he is, he’s a bit shy about it. 

“I can facetime you.” 

He panics. That means you’ll be watching him too, right? Sure he’s sent nudes, he’s received nudes. He’s sent videos too, and received them. But never has he like, you know, live masturbated on facetime so someone else can watch. 

“If you don’t want to, that’s okay.” You backtrack at his silence, but you’re cut off almost immediately. 

“No! no, we can facetime–”

Your stomach flips again as you fix yourself quickly in the mirror before setting your phone against your desk and rolling back a bit in your chair to determine if it’ll work this way or not. It’s not like he’s expecting you to do it too, he probably just thinks you’re gonna sit here naked for him to stare at. You’re kind of excited to see him in action, to hear him in action for you.

You hit the button to switch the call over to facetime and once again adjust your phone as you stare at yourself in the camera. Then you’re needing to catch your breath at the image of him.

There he is, his camera angled towards his face and not at all toward what's going on below his waist, but you don’t mind at first. Look at him, the lighting clearly shows that he’s a fan of mood lighting. You watch his eyes briefly, staring through the screen at you before moving your eyes to his arm, the one that clearly isn’t holding his phone because you can see it moving as he continues to jerk himself off. It’s an interesting feeling to have only seen him in photos until this moment, and it’s insanely attractive for some reason. Seeing him in motion, knowing what he’s doing, knowing that he feels good right now because of you.

“Let me see,” you say quietly, adjusting your bra strap and preparing to slip it off of you if he so much as asks. “Prop your phone up somewhere like I did.”

He nods, his eyes still staring straight through his screen at you as he moves around and the image becomes a blur of movement rather than his face. He settles in quickly, somehow looking even more attractive with the way his eyes no longer stare at the screen. You can almost sense a hint of shyness from him at this moment and it kind of floors you, given how easy he is to talk to and how easily he sent a dick pic to you.

“Feeling shy?” You ask, spreading your legs wide and cupping the seat of your panties, hiding the small spot of wetness forming there. “You act like I’m not going to be touching you at some point soon.”

You see him perk up, his eyes looking to you on the screen with more fondness than arousal. At the same time, his hand grips the base of his cock as he holds it straight up, erect and glistening proudly for you to look at. 

“You look pretty big, bet you could fill me up so nicely,” You try to compliment, boosting his confidence and ego as best you can simply because he looks pretty with a smile on his face. Especially when his cock twitches at the words. “Would you want to do that for me, Hoshi?”

“Oh god,” He groans, hearing his nickname come from your mouth for the first time. His hand jerks up his length once, almost aggressively as he winces at it. 

“This is going to be so embarrassing.” He admits, sliding his palm up and down shamelessly now as he watches between your spread legs. 

“Embarrassing, why?” You chuckle, tapping now at the spot between your legs. “Can you not see that I’m just as turned on right now?”

He groans again, releasing his length and using that same hand to swipe his hair out of his face, then immediately grimacing at the fact that he now has pre-cum in his hair. Embarrassing, all of it. 

“Well,” He tries to avoid you bringing up the fact that he just did that and only shoots his hand back to his cock in order to distract whatever off-hand shit you’re about to say. “You don’t even have your panties off yet, and I could probably get off right now.”

You laugh, not wanting to ruin the mood with the whole cum on his own face thing, so you save that for later. Instead, you instantly slip your panties off and present yourself to him much like he’s doing for you. 

“Better?”

Soonyoung watched with his breath stuck in his throat, now finding it harder to breathe at the image of your pussy and the way he hopes he can touch it one day. 

“Can you–” He pauses, not being used to dirty talk towards anything other than the porn playing on his phone. He thinks hard, and you can see it based on the way he, once again, neglects his cock with an unmoving palm.

“Can I do what?  Go on,” You urge him, running a hand up to your chest and fondling your nipples right there in front of him, but not yet moving the fabric. “What do you want me to do for you, baby?”

Baby. You called him baby. Not that he’s into that but the fact that you did it makes him wonder if he is now. Maybe it’s because he wants you to take him for all he’s worth at this point. One, to get rid of the virginity looming over his head, and two, because you sound so fucking smooth when you’re watching him get off. 

“Can you spread your pussy for me?” He whispers at first, boring a hole through his screen as he watches one of your hands tease at your hidden nipples, and the other hand sliding up and down the wet folds there. So badly does he want to see it. He wants to see your hole pulsing for him, leaking, needy.

His cock twitches wildly the second you do it for him. Two fingers spreading your pussy open and tensing your hips just to move it closer to the screen for him. 

“You want to fuck this?” You chuckle softly, slowly dipping a finger into yourself and pulling it back out to present the wetness for him.

“Oh,” he sighs, now fucking into his fist at a pace that proves he’s most definitely never fucked a woman before. “Fuck.”

You nod at him, urging him to keep admitting his attraction to you. You’re aware he doesn’t see it though, as his hips continue to move quicker and quicker each time you press your finger into yourself. 

“You gonna act like this when I’m riding you?” You ask with a tilted head, studying how hard he’s fucking against his hand. You can imagine how good it would feel if it were you, and quite frankly, this one finger isn’t enough at this point. 

“God. You’re gonna ride me?” He moans, eyes rolling only slightly as he imagines it. 

“Mhm,” you hum, now sliding in another finger and scissoring yourself open with them. “Would you want that?”

Before you can even work yourself up, and before he can even answer that question, you see him release. His cum shooting out in spurts across his stomach and nearly up to his chest. His labored breathing shifts the lighting against his abs and makes it look so entirely delicious. You’ve never wanted to lick a man clean so badly in your life.

You’re not even upset that he didn’t make it into the knitty gritty, considering he’s a virgin and all and you’re literally fucking yourself in front of him while implying riding him. You’re actually flattered. 

His release caused him to see white for several moments, forgetting he’s even on camera for you. When he comes back to reality, watching you continue to finger yourself as your eyes scan your screen, all he can do is feel bashful. 

“Shit, sorry,” He comments with a half laugh, looking down at his cum covered chest before looking at you again. Honestly, he could probably go again if you let him watch for a bit longer, but he’s embarrassed now. “I uh, didn’t mean to come that fast. It just kind of happened.”

“It’s okay,” You comfort him, slightly out of breath as you wonder if this is all you’re gonna get tonight. “It was cute.”

After a few moments, you sense his embarrassment and slowly slip yourself back into a sobering headspace, closing your legs and trying to ignore how wet you still are.

“Are you, um, done?” Soonyoung says, disappointed.

“Mm, no.” You smile. “But it’s okay, I’d rather make you come first anyway.”

His face lights up despite the disappointment in his gut of not being able to see you get off. 

“You still wanna see me after this?”

You nod with a smile, endeared by his need to give, but inability to do it.

“When are you free?” You ask, wondering if he’s ever going to clean himself up. 

“Whenever you are.” He laughs, scratching the back of his head with, once again, the same cum-stained hand. 

“I’ll text you later then,” You smile through the screen and give a small wave before your genuine smile turns into a smirk. “After I take care of my little problem though.”

You notice him sitting up in protest, but you hang up with a satisfied laugh and head to the shower to both finish yourself off and clean up.

~

Grandpa Hoshi: what about 3pm on thurs?

You: you want to lose your virginity at 3pm….on a thursday???

Grandpa Hoshi: my parents have plans so ill have the house to myself for a few hours

You: or you could just come here? 

Grandpa Hoshi: if ur comfortable with that? i thought u were supposed to come here lol

You: im comfortable, plus my roommate will kick your ass if you’re weird

Soonyoung contemplates hard on that last part but shrugs over it. Probably a girl thing, and it’s not like he’s an actual creep or anything. You’d be the one with power over him when the two of you are alone anyway. 

You: what about tomorrow, 8pm? 

Tomorrow. Hell yeah, tomorrow. Hell, he’d show up right the fuck now if you let him. He may live with his parents but he’s got a car. 

Grandpa Hoshi: send ur address, ill be there :) 

~

“Tomorrow, you’ll be a man.” Seungcheol croaks through the speaker at Soonyoung, totally assuming that this whole virginity loss dating app plan was actually just a joke. 

“Why do you have to say it that way?” Soonyoung groans back, slapping his hand over his forehead and rubbing his temples. “I didn’t think anyone was actually gonna come through, she’s the first one.”

“What makes you think she’s actually gonna send you her address?” Seungcheol laughs, once again placing more pity onto his best friend than anything else. “She’s probably not even a real person, you’re gonna end up at some old guy’s house.”

Soonyoung laughs, or snorts really. 

“Oh, she’s real.”

Seungcheol sits up in curiosity this time, switching his phone to the other ear with interest. 

“Hm? Have you already met her?”

“Kind of. We like, um,” Soonyoung pauses, wondering if he sounds way too excited to tell him or not. “We facetimed a few hours ago.”

Silence.

“She got naked.”

“Oh ho ho!” Seungcheol encourages him. “So you guys did some stuff on facetime and she still wants to meet you?” 

“That’s what I said!--” Soonyoung smiles to himself, about two seconds from kicking his feet before realizing what Seungcheol just said. “Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“You’re kind of a loser, we’ve been over this.” Seungcheol laughs yet again. “Call me when you get your cherry popped or whatever.”

Then he hangs up. 

Grandpa Hoshi: do u think im a loser?

You: yeah kinda

You’re laughing at his text as you sit across the table from Vernon.

“That him texting?” Vernon quirks a brow, watching you smile at your phone and practically ignore him. 

You laugh again at Soonyoung’s string of defensive texts before responding with a short “it’s okay, i like losers”, and putting your phone down to finish telling Vernon that he’s gonna get kicked out tomorrow for the night. 

“So,” You clap your hands in front of yourself, glaring at Vernon. “You’re gonna have to be gone tomorrow at eight because I'm about to literally obliterate this guy.”

“Jesus, I’m scared for him.”

“You should be scared for me. Because, well…” You trail off for a second, scrolling up your texts to see the dick pic Soonyoung sent before the facetime call. “He’s huge and–”

“I did not need to know that.” Vernon sighs, scooting back in his chair and standing to his feet. 

“You act like you’re not curious nearly every time I meet someone.” You roll your eyes at him, smiling.

Vernon stands there awkwardly before shrugging and lunging for your phone. 

“How big?” He laughs, not actually trying to see the dude’s dick but always way too curious for his own good despite never wanting to be around to hear what the big dicks do to his best friend. 

“Stop prying, you’ll get jealous.”

He scoffs, brushing off his pants of invisible dust and crossing his arms. 

“I’ll have you know, my dick is perfectly sized.”

“I’m sure it is. Anyway, tomorrow, be gone.” 

He nods, sauntering to the living room and flopping down on the couch. 

“Keep it in your room, please. I don’t want to sit on his gross body fluids when I come home.”

~

It’s Thursday. It’s approximately seven in the evening on Thursday and you’re well aware that Soonyoung is probably bubbling with anxiety if his texts are anything to go by. 

So many are you sures, so many you can tell me to leave if you decide you don’t want tos, and even more i can’t wait to see yous. 

“Vernon, aren’t you supposed to be leaving?” You ask, opening the fridge to pull out a bottled water. 

You’ve already showered again today, primped yourself up for him really. Everything smooth, soft, and ready to be touched. You wonder if Soonyoung is doing the same, and smile.

“Hm, yeah. But I kinda wanna see him before I leave.”

You turn your head to him with a curious look, glaring only slightly.

“I swear to god if you scare him off, I’m kicking you out.”

Vernon laughs, patting the couch as if to invite you to sit with him to ease your own anxiety. He can smell the familiar lotion you use before dates, and he notes that you’ve really tried to look good today. 

“I think you might kill him, if I’m being honest.” Your best friend laughs softly, complimenting you. 

“Thanks, that’s the plan.”

And so, the two of you sit together laughing at stupid comedy shows until your phone lights up at around eight fifteen. 

Grandpa Hoshi: i’m a little early, is that ok? 

“Oh shit, he’s here.” You immediately feel nervous, which is pretty normal for you anyway so it’s easily overlooked by Vernon. 

He jumps up, brushing off his clothes and walking toward the kitchen to grab his keys and wallet. 

“Let him in then, I’ll leave when he gets here.”

You give him a knowing look before nodding. 

You: second floor, take a left when you get to the top of the stairs, third apartment on the left.

Within minutes, there’s a very gentle knock on the door and Vernon is throwing himself at it to get a look at him. Unfortunately it’s a bit more awkward than he expected it to be. 

Not only did Soonyoung think your roommate was a woman, but he, at the very least, expected you to answer the door. He was preparing himself all day for this moment, to knock on your door and have you open it. At first he thought that maybe he even got the wrong apartment. 

“Oh, I think I got the wrong place, sorry–” 

“Nope, you’re in the right place.” Vernon smiles, stepping to the side and opening the door wider for him. “You can come in.”

Soonyoung does, awkwardly. Avoiding eye contact with Vernon and barely even looking into the apartment before stepping inside. 

“She’s excited, don’t worry.” Vernon whispers, throwing Soonyoung a wink before stepping out and closing the door behind him.

Soonyoung still hasn’t really looked up from the floor yet, and you make quick work to make him feel more comfortable. 

“Don’t mind him, that’s both my best friend and roommate.” You say, making your way toward him and trying your best not to stare because, okay, wow. He’s kind of ten times more attractive in person, which is fucking insane considering how good he looked through a screen. 

“Have you and him ever like…” Soonyoung immediately starts, realizing he might have made things weird. 

“Vernon?! Oh, god no.” You laugh, reaching for his arm and feeling him lean into it with relief. “You’re allowed to look up by the way. You’ve been staring at that crack in my floor since you got here.”

Immediately Soonyoung moves his eyes up to you, the eye contact feeling more intense than it should, but you’re locked in too. The awkwardness dissolves almost instantly, he feels no need to question you further about anything really, especially with the way he feels his throat run dry at the very idea of this whole plan actually happening at some point.

When he made his profile on that app, it was kind of a half joke until like, people started talking to him. Given, no one ever followed through but you, he’s happy he stuck with it. Happy you came out of the works from said dating app, happy you picked him. 

Really though, he picked you. Part of you wonders about why you want to take this from him. For power, for control, to be praised, to feel like you’re his entire world of desire for a brief time? All of those things, but you can admit now that he’s in front of you that it’s a bit intimidating. He’s not shy at all, just a bit awkward. He seems confident, he seems ready, and you find yourself lucky for being the one to get to do this for him, or with him. If at all, Soonyoung is the type of man you could see yourself hanging out with often, with or without having sex. 

Given, upon seeing him face to face for the first time, the only thing you thought about was how attractive he is. Now though, as you look back at him along with the silence of this apartment offering nothing more than awkwardness, it’s not. Because you’re seeing him for all he is and he appears to not be able to help it. Is this what people mean when they say there’s an instant spark between two people? Despite how attractive he is, you find yourself thinking of how many times he’s made you laugh. How many times he’s embarrassed himself, and now for the first time he’s right there and all you want to do is…give him exactly what he wants, or needs. Whichever. 

“Okay, listen,” You start, swallowing around a lump in your throat as you feel your body heat up at record speed by just having his eyes looking into yours. You know by this point that you’re not going to be keeping your hands to yourself at all. And for his sake, he’d probably prefer it that way. “If I move too fast, just tell me to stop.”

Soonyoung tilts his head with a dopey smile, eyes still fixed on you, scanning you, coming to terms with the fact that you’re absolutely everything he thought you would be and more. 

“I don’t think that’s gonna be an issue,” He admits, feeling his length confined within his pants twitch wildly at the entire situation. “I struggled not to get hard just driving over.” He laughs, looking away from you for the first time with flushed cheeks. 

You find that painfully adorable. No man would ever admit that to you. Especially after just a few minutes of meeting in person for the first time, but this is Soonyoung and in the short amount of time you’ve known him, you’re kind of expecting him to be really forward and say things that will have you frozen in thought.

“Oh yeah?” You ask, grabbing his hand and leading him to the kitchen. You’re pretending that his apparent inexperience isn’t getting to you, but you’re not really fooling anyone. “Let’s get you some water or something, I can see you drooling.”

Soonyoung laughs, shrugging because yeah maybe he’s drooling a little bit. You smell fucking immaculate, your hand is small in his but still manages to overpower him, your skin feels soft and slightly cold. Honestly, it’s dangerous just having you stand in front of him right now because he could absolutely blow his load just by you looking at him. Embarrassing? Always.

He follows after you, very nearly crowding up to you as the comfort sets in and the last bit of awkwardness leaves his mind. All he can think about is how you sounded over that facetime call. He’s seen what’s between your legs, and during that night all he could think about was touching you, fucking you. Now he’s here, and you’re right there. It’s hard not to crowd up, it’s hard not to cling to you, it’s hard not to be excited. Seeing your hand wrapping around that bottle of water to give to him, seeing you lean just before grabbing it– of course he’s staring. Of course he’s crowding closer, almost to the point that he’s up against your ass when you lean back up from the fridge.

You turn after grabbing him the bottle and become shocked by his close proximity when you face him. He looks down at you with a soft face, one that shows he’s not embarrassed by how he immediately attaches to you. His smile is just as clumsy as he is, you can tell he knows exactly what he’s doing too. You’re glad, because it makes it entirely too easy to drop the water bottle, grab his face, and chase his lips all the way until he’s against the counter and kissing you back. 

He sighs instantly into it, wincing at the way the kitchen counter hits his back, you pressing against him so harshly just to get that first taste of his lips. He’s excited that you seem as eager as him, maybe even as desperate as him. 

For you, a man has never been this eager just to kiss you, nor has a man ever kissed you this good. You can imagine that he’s probably got a lot of experience in terms of kissing, not much elsewhere though. You can tell by the way he moves his hands to all of the right places, but his blatant virginity shows through all of it as he becomes a horny mess almost instantly. 

His tongue is warm and wet, small whining sounds coming from his throat as you press yourself against him briefly. His hands never leave your body and he shows no shame in touching where he wants to touch. Rubbing, groping, and caressing every inch of your waist, ass, and even moving up to your face to deepen the kiss. His hips press forward almost constantly, and all you can do is brace yourself on the counter behind him to try and tame his relentless hips and obvious attempts at rushing what he wants right now. 

If you’re going to sleep with him though, he’s gonna get the full experience, not a quickie. Plus, you agreed to keep it in your room for Vernon’s sake. 

“Hey,” you sigh, trying to pull back from the kiss but he isn’t having it. Still kissing against you and running his lips down to your neck when you continue to speak. “We should go to my room, your first time isn’t about to be in my kitchen.”

“Why not?” He groans against your neck, kissing harshly with faint wet sounds, his hands wrapping tightly around your waist now. “I don’t care where we do it, i just want you like, really bad.”

Still, his lips don’t leave you, nor do his hands. You find yourself giggling against him with a shake of your head at the way he protests when you pry yourself from his grip. Of course, though, he’s immediately clinging to you and chasing after you to your bedroom before practically throwing himself at you again.

You barely get the door closed before he’s pressing you against it this time, hand running down again to your waist and easily snaking up your shirt just to feel the warmth of your skin. You let him, enjoying the way he kisses you for just the second time, enjoying more the way you can feel him lose his composure every few minutes from this alone. 

You’re kind of in love with the fact that he doesn’t seem to want to pull back even for a breath. He seems to love kissing, and you wonder what else he’ll come to love doing tonight too. From the way he moves his tongue and his lips on you, you can imagine he’d be fucking heavenly at eating pussy.

Successfully you push him away again, rushing to your bed before he can make you melt against his lips for a third time, and you’re instantly trying to present yourself to him much like you did over camera. 

“You’re really going to let me?” He asks with a deep breath, brushing his hair out of his face and wiping his mouth. His brain malfunctions at your presumed answer to that question, watching you take your panties and shorts off in one go and leaning back to spread your legs for him. 

At this moment, you’re all his and you make it a point to spread your pussy out for him like he asked you to do before. You can practically see his knees buckle that very instant.

“To think I wouldn’t want to do this is insane,” You say, wiggling your hips for him to see. “Look how wet I am.” You pause, studying the hungry look in his eyes. “Do you wanna try eating me out?”

He doesn’t even nod. He’s immediately on his knees against your bed and grabbing your thighs to pull you toward his face. You yelp only slightly at the movement, a chuckle coming out shortly after as you sit yourself up properly to take in the image of his eyes sparkling up at you. 

Your breath is caught in your throat, a small groan coming out at the image alone before you’re able to process words again. 

“Can’t believe how good you look down there,” You say softly, brushing his hair out of his face for him like he did to himself earlier. “Have you ever done this before?”

He shakes his head, eyes shifting from your pussy to your face. Regardless of your shock at that, he seems like he’s waiting for a green light so you decide to cut the compliments short and raise your brows at him. 

“Go on then.”

You watch him and the way he doesn’t seem to think at all when he does it. Once again, he’s adorable. His tongue goes everywhere, only grazing your clit briefly every few licks, never staying on it presumably because he’s in the process of finding the clit based on how your body reacts. 

He has a general idea of where it is, but the feeling of having your pussy on his lips alone is enough to overwhelm him with arousal. All he can do is taste and smell the mixture of your warmth along with the soap and lotion you must have used before he came here. 

He’s quite literally tasting the entirety of you and loving every second of it. The way his hands grip your legs, both spreading them further open so that he can tilt his head and lick at different angles, and then hugging them to where they almost lock his head in place. 

It feels like he does this for ages, learning your body and what makes your legs shake. He sucks in different places, kissing your entire pussy to the point that it’s almost impossible for your legs not to shake in reaction at what he’s doing to you. 

Dare you say, a man who is inexperienced at eating a woman out somehow feels better than one who knows exactly where to go. 

“Fuck, knew you’d be good at this,” you compliment with a shaky voice, reaching down to his hair and holding his head in place. “Stay on my clit, use your fingers on me.” 

He hums, taking note of where you place his lips and reminding himself that this is the clit, just as suspected. He attaches his lips there, kissing it much like he kissed you in the kitchen. 

You can feel his fingers make their way into you, each bump of his knuckle sending a delicious sensation throughout your body. You’re tingling from your head to your toes at this point and your face heats up beyond what you thought it would. Your hips move on their own, experimentally fucking against his fingers as he keeps his tongue flicking at you. 

“Just like that,” you encourage him, running your hands through his hair and looking down at him. Seeing his head move with each little thrust of your hips is only more arousing in this moment. His eyes half open, watching you, tasting you, almost smiling around your clit when he makes eye contact with you. 

It almost seems like he’s asking if he’s doing well, and goddamn is he. He’s doing amazing.

“So good,” you say shortly, scratching against his scalp as a thank you, still fucking your hips up just to feel his fingers plunge deeper. 

He, on the other hand, is fucking feral right now. Tasting you, dipping his fingers into you, feeling that warmth for the first time, the small clenches— he’s swimming in a fantasy. Every time you move your hips up, he can smell the entirety of you, he can feel your pussy squeeze his fingers, and god. He doesn’t think he ever wants this to end.

All day, he could do this all fucking day. No wonder men make fun of other guys for not giving head. Why wouldn’t they? He can feel your legs tensing up around his head, your gentle fingers running through his hair, the sounds coming from your lips. He’s in love, he’s in love.

He doesn’t stop, tongue flicking your clit so beautifully, fingers slowly fucking in and out of you, not even in time with your jerking hips. Shockingly, you approach euphoria so fucking fast that you can barely warn him, you’re not even thinking when you put pressure on his head, pressing his lips so harshly against your clit— his moan sending a vibration straight through you.

“Faster, with your fingers—“ you choke out, curling your toes and feeling him do exactly as you say. 

There, you release with his fingers plunging in and out of you, the wet sound of your pussy only sounding more messy by the time you begin to release. In the midst of it all, you feel him pull his lips from your clit and lick around his fingers before coming back up and continuing his ministrations, working you through an orgasm you’re not even sure he knows you’re having right now.

Strings of curses, little tugs against his hair, legs shaking, all of it happens at once until the feeling of his fingers become sensitive inside of you, until his tongue is flicking a bundle of nerves begging to be left alone. 

You swat him away with a smile, leaning up quickly and grabbing him by the shirt. 

He doesn’t really know what the fuck is going on but he laughs with you, being pulled to his feet and falling onto the bed on top of you. You can feel his length in his pants, so fucking hard, probably leaking and feeling quite neglected.

“Did you…?” He asks softly.

You smile at him, leaning up to kiss him square on the mouth before you flip him over and get between his legs. 

“I did,” You laugh in a daze, starting to work on his button and zipper. You’re reeling from the recent orgasm and wanting nothing more than to let him feel the same way you do right now. “And now, you’re gonna finally get a full blow job.”

He chokes out a nervous laugh, holding your hand in place from pulling his pants down.

“Unless, you don’t want that?” You ask, tilting your head with a bit of a frown.

“No, no! It’s not that!” He reassures you, cheeks flushing more than they already were. “It’s just that like, what if I don’t last very long? I’m kind of sensitive.”

His eyes avoid yours when he says it and once again, most adorable man award goes to fucking Soonyoung.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing?” You lean forward, kissing him again. “You just gave me some of the best head in my life.”

The light in his eyes return and instantly he’s flashing a nervous smile at you. 

“Hoshi, I’ve never gotten off that fast from being eaten out.” You reassure him again, making a point to use his nickname. “If you don’t get off from me sucking your cock, I might actually cry.” 

Well, he can’t have that now, can he? 

He releases your grip on his jeans, allowing you to pull them down. For some reason unable to look at you despite knowing you’ve seen him jerk off before. It’s the fact that like, what if it’s suddenly not big enough? What if his cock is ugly or curved in a way you don’t like?

Before he can even start to doubt himself more, he feels your lips on the tip and instantly his eyes are looking down at you. You’re the one smiling now, using one hand to hold his base and the other hand already scooping up his balls for added pleasure. 

You make a point to look him in the eye as you let the saliva collect in your mouth. There, you let it fall from the tip of your tongue, all the way until you feel the wetness against your fingers wrapped around his base. 

He thinks he’s going to go fucking insane watching you like this, and god, does he. You don’t even show him your struggle of taking in the sheer size of him. Lowering your mouth until you’re taking in as much as you can. You try to keep eye contact up until you have to close your eyes. 

It’s not shocking that by the point you get half of his length into your mouth, he’s fucking up without full intention and letting out a choked apology. Still, you try to force your stretched lips to smile for him, even through the gag, through the harsh feeling of his cock hitting your throat. 

How the fuck has a cock this good not been worshiped before? By a mouth? A hand? A pussy? You’ll be damned not to choke on it. You’d rather eat glass than to let him leave this apartment without being completely emptied and praised for every drop. 

He’s actually struggling already not to come, holding himself back but failing each time his hips chase the warmth of your throat. Each time you gag, it stimulates the fuck out of him and he nearly wants to cry each time it happens. Even with that other girl who went down on him, she didn’t even attempt to fit this much in her mouth. Most of the pleasure came from her hand jerking him off while she suckled against his head, but you. You’re down there, slipping your mouth up and down on his length, gagging, tearing up, and still fucking smiling about it. 

Once again, he’s in love.

He holds his hands back at least, keeping them against your sheets and gripping them so hard that he fears he’s ripping through them. Everything feels hot, you look hot, you sound hot, your tongue still manages to move against the base of his cock with what little room it does have, and god– your other hand, massaging his balls. 

“Wait, wait wait–” Soonyoung groans, fucking his hips into your mouth once again until you pull off with a concerned look. 

“Were my teeth hurting you?” You ask, gasping a bit for air.

“No, i was just getting really close.”

“Hm?” You sigh in disappointment, this time going all in at once and not letting yourself stop until he’s releasing into your mouth. 

You feel his shaking fingers brush your cheek when you do it, hollowing it out just to fit more, more, more into your mouth before lapping your tongue against his base again. 

His groaning turns into frantic moans, his hips jerking wildly, unable to escape the clenching muscles of your gagging throat, and he’s honestly in heaven once again. 

Never in his life has he felt an orgasm so satisfying. His fingers go numb when he releases, pumping himself deep into your throat and not stopping until he’s dizzy. The fact that you kept your mouth on him through it, the fact that he could still feel you gagging, swallowing, and moaning all at once through it–how?

“How–” he takes a breath, pulling you off of him so you can breathe. “How did you do that?”

You shrug with a confident smile, wiping your tears and crawling up to meet his face. 

“I don’t normally do that for guys.” You say with a rasp in your voice, “I certainly don’t just swallow for anyone.”

He feels special, and fucking spent but god does he want to keep going. His softening cock twitching in a relieving way, probably glad to have finally been touched by something other than his own hand. Part of him wonders if you’re done though, because by now you’ve both gotten off and usually that’s the end goal, right?

But he hasn’t lost his virginity yet, and when he looks at you hovering above him, he already knows you’re not done with him. 

“We need to let you rest until you can get hard again,” You say, kissing him more easily than before. Letting him taste himself, letting you taste yourself mixed with him. “What’s something you wanna do to get you back into the game?”

He sighs out a laugh, fucking amazed that you’re his first. How lucky is that? He thinks hard, watching the way you lift your shirt off of yourself. God, he forgot tits existed for a solid part of this day and that’s a shame because instantly his sensitive cock throbs at the image of them coming into view. 

You watch him stare, trailing your hands down and lifting his shirt off of him as well. 

“I don’t even know at this point.” He admits, ignoring the fact that his hair is definitely sticking up all over from you taking his shirt off of him.

“I’ll just love on you while you think, then.”

He gives a short nod, feeling all warm and fuzzy inside at the way your gentle hands caress his chest and abs before you start kissing against it.

He relaxes his body, feeling your hands and lips on him. You were right when you said you’d love on him as he thinks about it. The hard part of it is actually thinking about what’s going to get him harder the fastest. You doing this could be enough, but your tits. And fuck, your pussy.

He lets out a whine, one that feels entirely out of character and it causes you to pause your gentle kiss against his nipple and pull back.

“Already?” 

He shakes his head, staring straight at your chest and then down to what's between your legs. 

“I want to, um, eat you out again…”

That’s new. Twice in one session? You’re not going to turn that down. 

“Oh yeah? Did that get you going?”

You receive a small nod from him before his hands are reaching out for your tits and warming them up. 

You relax into the feeling of his fingers on your chest only for a moment before you pull back again, this time adjusting yourself onto the bed face down, ass up. Might as well try a bunch of different positions for him too, right?

“Whenever you’re ready.” You sigh, already grabbing a pillow to hug through this. 

You can feel the bed shift behind you, the weight of his body dipping right behind you before you feel his warm breath against your core. Only now do you realize that you already missed the way he ate you out the first time, you can barely contain yourself knowing he’s going to do it again. 

His hands snake between your legs before his lips get any closer, spreading them before pulling his hand back up and spreading your pussy open with his fingers on his own this time. 

“You have the prettiest pussy.” He says in a clear and calm voice, watching the way your hole pulses at the air that hits it. “And I've watched a lot of porn.”

You’d tell him to shut up, but you’re not gonna because it’s cute how forward he is with his thoughts. If anything, he’s treating you right now by doing this, so he can say whatever he fucking wants right now. 

“Eat it then.” you try to urge him, and he does just that. 

You do your best to contain any rising orgasm, solely because you don’t want to spend yourself before you actually let him inside of you in full. But goddamn, he’s just as eager now as he was the first time…if not more. 

He thinks back to the things he did before, mimicking that and hitting all of the perfect spots without fail. Still, you hold back, pushing and pulling yourself away and toward him. He eventually holds you in place against him, licking you deeper than you’ve ever been licked before. It’s a different kind of sensation, and the way he groans into it is entirely too much for you right now. 

You need more, you want more. You want all of him by now, so aroused by every touch, breath, and moan that it’s becoming unbearable to just be eaten out. The thought that he’s doing this to get himself hard is flooring, and the feeling of his fingers replacing his tongue much like before is intense. 

After just that one time, he knows exactly how to make you come this way and it’s dangerously attractive to realize that. He goes straight for it too, pulling back to watch his fingers slip into you up to the knuckle. 

Given, he can’t reach your clit with his mouth this time so he thinks hard about how to fix this little dilemma and you’re floored even more by the fact that he solves problems without questioning. You feel his fingers leave you and land on your clit, and right then you feel his tongue again, just as deep, licking into you and all over you. 

He’s really going to not let you hold it in, he’s going to have you fucking unravelling again and it’s too good. Thankfully, when you try to lift to look behind yourself, you take note of his other hand working himself. 

He’s hard again, and god knows how long he’s been doing that. 

You pull your body away from him, his protesting moan doing nothing but heating your body up more when you flip over and watch him. 

“You were really just going to get me off again and not try to fuck me yet?”

He looks down at himself and then back at you, smiling and running his hand through his hair. 

“I like doing it, I wanted to see if I could make you–”

“You absolutely could have but I’m going to be honest,” You start, interrupting him and pulling yourself up to crawl over him. “I need more now, and if you’re ready, I’d like to live up to my promise.”

His eyes are much sharper than they were before when you say those words. This is actually it. He would have been perfectly happy just eating you out, getting head himself, or whatever. Over and over again. Any and all of it is better than being in his room alone, but you’re really–

“Promise?” He asks, knowing full well what it was. 

“Lay back, get comfortable,” You instruct, scooting up the bed with him, keeping yourself planted on his legs despite the discomfort. “You still want me to ride you, right?”

He nods almost frantically, landing his hands on your tits without hesitation and groping them in a blatant show of how ready he’s managed to get himself for this. 

Not that you want to rush, but you’re so fucking turned on by this point, the only thing you want is to be filled by him. His cock likely bigger than any you’ve taken before, and to be fair, you don’t even care if you’re the desperate one at this point. You’ve almost forgotten he’s a virgin.

“Wait,” He stops you when you slide over his cock, bare pussy coating his length in a languid grind. “Oh, fuck, wait- no, do that again.” 

You smile at his frantic thoughts pouring from his lips, sliding against him again, and again, up until he’s leaning forward and attaching his lips to one of your nipples and suckling against it hard. 

You groan as you grind, feeling the head of his now, fully hard, cock bumping against your previously stimulated clit. He groans with you, almost at the exact same time but continues to try and leave his mark on you. In love with finally getting your tits in his mouth, your pussy on his cock, and most of all, in love with the fact that you’re not laughing at him for any of it. You seem to melt into it much like he does and he can’t help but want to email the creator of that fucking app and personally thank them for this. 

You rub yourself against him until it’s even more unbearable than before. By now, you’ve completely soaked his length and he’s completely soaked your chest in saliva and tiny swollen bite marks. Not that you mind the biting, he did it and you didn’t stop him.

“Are you ready?” You finally sigh out, deliberately grinding against him slowly now, with almost your entire weight behind the grinds. 

He groans out a “please” before immediately gripping your hips and stopping you. Pulling his head back so hard and so quickly– he kind of forgot to unlatch from your nipple and it sends a sharp pain throughout your body, one that only makes you want to ride him hard. Right now. 

“Hold on, there’s a condom in the pocket of my jeans–”

“Okay, and?” You laugh, sliding forward again and grinding your clit against him. “I’m on birth control, and I’m clean.” 

He looks at you, his sharp eyes falling back into the sparkling doe eyes as his mouth falls open at the very idea that he gets to hit it fucking raw for the first time? 

“Unless you’re lying, and you’re not really a virgin?”

He’s quick to silence your doubt. He’s 100% never had his cock inside of anything other than his own palm and– malfunction. He’s blank again, staring up at you and wincing at the feeling of you pleasuring yourself on top of him. 

“Please?” He manages to get out, gripping your hips so tightly by now that he’s sure it’s hurting you. 

You smile, humming at him when you lift from his length, standing on your knees to grab at his and position him in the right place. 

“You sure you’re ready for this?” You ask, only now realizing that you’re genuinely about to take a man’s virginity, and it’s only fair that you give him one last time to decide if he wants you to take it from him. Despite how turned on you are, and regardless of how badly you want to fuck him, it’s not right to just do it without making him really think about it. 

“Fuck, yes. Just do it already.” 

You can’t help but smile at him when you do. Lowering yourself slowly on him and feeling the stretch of it. His face is something that you don’t think you’ll ever forget. He appears to be lost in it, eyes rolling back, his chest heaving, his teeth showing through a half-smile as he moans out at the sensation. 

He can’t get over how warm it is inside of you, the constant clenching of your pussy dragging along his entire length. He can’t help it when he moans, he doesn’t care that his voice cracks, or that it sounds like a pathetic sob. 

By the time you bottom out and sit like that for a moment, you almost feel like he’s the one who needs to adjust. Of course, you’re needing this moment to adjust too but god– just watching him made you that much more wet and it’s insane how into him you are right now. As if you haven’t been since you started talking to him.

“Feels good?” You ask, involuntary clenching around his size, letting out a small sigh yourself at the feeling of his leaking cock inside of you. 

He hums at you and then takes in a deep breath before fully opening his eyes again and looking at you. Technically, he’s no longer a virgin now. It’s fucking happening, and you’re hot? So hot? You feel so good? You smell so good. You sound so fucking good. 

Everything is overwhelmingly good, all he can do now is press his hips up and instantly moan out at the feeling. 

You take that as an invitation to absolutely obliterate him, much like you knew you would. So, you do. Lifting yourself up and sliding him almost entirely out of you before sinking down again. 

His hands shoot to your waist, then he lifts slightly to grab your ass from behind you, and then he flops himself back– seemingly unable to know what the fuck to do with himself at this feeling. 

You opt to grab his hands, intertwining your fingers with his and holding them above his head, all so you can lay chest to chest with him, lips right at his neck. You start kissing, riding him so smoothly and doing nothing but listening to his little sounds that he tries to keep inside. 

“You’re really cute, you know that?” You whisper against his ear, kissing there too before pulling back to look at his face.

That half-smile never leaves his face, and his fingers squeeze against yours so tightly that you actually start to worry that he may break them. Thankfully, he begins to relax after a few minutes. Adjusting to the overwhelming pleasure and now losing himself to the arousal rather than fighting it. 

You nearly squeak when you feel him release your hands and grab your face, pulling you up to him as he kisses you mindlessly. Breathlessly, moaning into your mouth all while moving his own hips now. You can feel him jerk his hips, imagining how he fucked his hand through facetime. This is better than that.

You prop to stand up on your knees, offering him the space to fuck you as hard as he’d like, and god. It’s hard. It’s deep, and it’s so clumsy. No rhythm, no thought behind it at all, you can fucking tell he’s purely running on adrenaline as he plunges into you. 

He’s actually going so hard, that your moans sound more pained than pleasurable, but that’s not the case at all. You actually can’t stop moaning, it’s just the fact that each time he slams into you, your throat lets out a broken sound. 

For a moment, you think you can actually hear him purr, or maybe growl against your slack lips as he does it. Already he’s lasted longer than you thought he would, especially without a condom, and you’re so fucking impressed by it. 

You slide your hand between your bodies, easily rubbing your own clit and drying out your throat even more with the consistent loud moans of how good he’s doing. After a few moments though, his hips stutter and you take that as a sign that you should take over again.

“I don’t know how the fuck you’re doing this to me,” You laugh out of pity for yourself, “I really thought I could last longer than this.”

He barely hears you through his ringing ears and rapid heartbeat, but he chuckles at the compliment. Feeling like he must be doing something right to have a woman say that to him. There’s one issue. He’s about two thrusts from coming again and he will be damned to ruin this for you. 

You take over, riding him harshly and rubbing your clit even harder. He takes a moment to try and distract himself from how good your pussy feels clenching him and takes it upon himself to bite down hard against his tongue. Something to hurt enough to keep his orgasm from bubbling over, but also not something so awful that he’d lose his arousal entirely. 

You continue, pushing yourself back up from him and watching the way he tries to focus on anything but what’s happening. You ride deliberately to get him off though, knowing that the second he does, you’ll let yourself go too. He doesn’t seem to be picking up the hints. 

“Are you close?” You ask, out of breath and riding him so consistently that it’s becoming more and more difficult to hold your own orgasm. “Let it go, come with me–”

Instantly, you hear him whimper out a moan as he releases the bite on his tongue. Shooting himself forward and hugging you so tightly that the pressure of your fingers against your clit is entirely unbearable. 

“Oh, shit. Wait– i’m–” You start, moaning against his hair as he hugs against you.

He’s so fucking relieved, already releasing into you as you say those words. All he can do is breathe through it, feeling your pussy come around him as he continues to empty himself into you. 

It’s entirely too intense, his ears popping and heart threatening to send him to a hospital. Never did he think having sex was this intense. 

Little does he know… it’s not. But even you, for some reason, find yourself wondering why the fuck that was so good. 

By the time you pull yourself off of him, both of you wincing and trying to ignore the mixture of cum running down your legs, all you can do is look at him with curiosity. 

He can barely open his eyes to look back at you, but he tries, he really does. 

~

He’s not going home tonight. Of course he’s not. Like, how fucking rude would it be to take his virginity and send him on his way? Absolutely the fuck not.

In fact, you made him some food, wobbling on spent legs throughout the kitchen as he lays on his death bed in your room. (Not literally, both of you are just dramatic.)

All he can do is listen to the sounds of you in the other room and think hard about how he just felt. Physically, it was a lot. Surely if sex is like that all the time, he’d rather not do it as often as Seungcheol does. Honestly, his sanity would be at stake. 

But like, you’re kind of amazing. Given, the two of you barely know each other past lame texts and bullying each other. Physically, you know him more than any other women and that’s a block he didn’t think would be an issue until it became one.

You made him come twice. And he thinks you did too, unless you’re lying just to make him feel better. There’s no way you didn’t feel the intensity of that though. There’s no way your wobbling legs were lying to him when you got up and told him you wanted to have a snack before bed.

There’s no way you would let him sleep over if you didn’t feel the same way he does right now.

And by the time you’re back, handing him a plate of food, he can’t help but believe that nothing will ever taste as good as you.

The thing is, that’s one of the main reasons you did this. To be praised, to have a man think you’d be the best he will ever have until he eventually meets someone else and they do better than you did. Now though, you feel weird. 

This is a one night stand. A charity-fuck, as it still stands at least. 

“So,” You start, taking a bite of your food still as naked as can be regardless of how stupid it must look to be eating in a come-soaked bed like this. “I guess you should change your bio in the app now.”

He looks at you, and then at his food.

“Yeah, I guess I should…” 

“I’ll help you fix your age on it. Now that you know what you’re doing with a woman and all.”

It’s silent for a minute.

“Is it too forward if I say that I’d rather just delete the app and keep calling you?”

Thank fuck Soonyoung is forward and embarrassing with it. You’re not ready to give up the single life but on the other hand, after that, you’re not exactly ready to share him with other women just yet. If he wants to attach himself for a while, you’re going to let him. Purely because, like, look at him. Everything is endearing, and when he’s not being adorable he’s just being fucking hot.

You nod with a smile, wondering if he expects you to delete the app too. Because you’re not so sure about that, but also you think you probably would if he asks with those stupid doe eyes. 

Strangely enough, he doesn’t even ask. He just starts eating the food with a content look on his face. Sweat having dried up but left his hair a mess, his skin is glowing– you think…oh no. Why are you looking at him like this?

“Hey, I should probably call Vernon and tell him not to come home until late tomorrow or something.”

Soonyoung nods, lifting his eyes to you and watching you take your phone out. 

“I should call my friend too, he told me to let him know when I get my cherry popped.”

You snort at him with a laugh right as Vernon answers the phone, and honestly, you’d rather listen to Soonyoung’s friend than Vernon whining about having to spend even more time with his overbearing parents. 

“Hey Vernon, don’t come home 'til I call you tomorrow, bye.” You say quickly before hanging up. 

Instantly you’re setting your plate on your table and launching yourself at Soonyoung and his phone. 

“Put him on speaker.”

#soonyoung smut #hoshi smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #hoshi x reader #svt fic #hoshi fic #soonyoung fic #kwon soonyoung smut

[ellievickstar]

Pretty Lies

A/N: THIS THOUGHT STRUCK ME AS I THOUGHT OF THE MEME SO LIKE BEAR WITH ME FOR A MOMENT OKAY??? also i gave up valentine week, i want to write a lot does not mean i want to stick to a schedule.

Summary: Cassian has some questions about you and Azzy's relationship, and because you are both very private people you choose not to answer Cassian truthfully, but what will happen when he decides to test your answer out?

Request: Nope.

Pairing: Azriel x reader

Warnings: Fluff. I'm in my soft era okay??? shush. This is set before even Amarantha so somewhere between the first war and the curse.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

Cassian glanced between you and Azriel, both of you had been speaking through the mating bond, thus it was mostly silent. Truth to be told, your bond was quite new and Cassian had not really heard you both interact with each other since you both confessed your love.

"Hey...I have a question," Cassian spoke up, raising his hand slightly. You cocked your head curiously, waving a hand to encourage him to continue.

"Do you guys use pet names?" Glancing at Azriel, he shrugged.

"No," You said simply.

Narrowing his eyes, Cassian internally scoffed. He did not buy it, not for one moment. Azriel may have been the most quiet among the three of them but he knew for a fact that Azriel was probably the most affectionate behind close doors. Azriel cared in a way that was quiet, a way that did not draw attention. The smallest details that hinted to the fact that the shadow singer cared more than he let on.

Cassian nodded to himself, he would reveal your lies and expose them for what they are, this was his true purpose in life.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

His plan commenced during dinner.

Waiting for the proper moment to strike, he suddenly piped up when you and Rhys were deep in conversation, Azriel was listening to Amren closely as she complained about how boring her life was now.

"Hey, Y/N, what do bees make?" Cassian asked slyly. Hesitating for a second, you gazed at him before answering, "Honey?" It was then that Azriel suddenly said, "Yes, Sweetheart?" Mor exploded into laughter, Amren hummed her amusement and Rhys grinned like a wild cat.

Blushing a deep red, you turned your head to hide your face in Azriel's arm, his hand coming up to stroke your hair while your body shook from trying not to laugh, his lips curling up into a smirk.

"I KNEW IT," Cassian screamed, "YOU LIARS TOLD ME YOU DIDN'T USE PET NAMES, HOW COULD YOU LIE TO ME," Wincing at how loud he was, Azriel shot Cassian a pointed glare in which Cassian quieted down, sulking slightly as he dramatically collapsed back in his chair, clutching his chest from 'heartbreak'.

"I'm sorry Cass, but you're not the most...subtle person," You tried. You were trying to not snicker and be kind about it but he gasped louder. "I can be subtle. I am soooo subtle," He rolled his eyes.

"So if I told you I found my mate would you be calm?" Rhys joked. However, Cass's eyes widened at Rhys, his eye balls seemingly almost popping out. "I'M THE LAST ONE LEFT WITHOUT A MATE????"

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

Bonus:

"Never lie to my face every again," Cass whined, chuckling you nodded, Azriel's wing tucking you closer to his side, ready to scoop you up once you were done talking to Cass so you could retire home for the night.

"I promise I will tell you every detail, even how Az-"

"NEVER MIND!"

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

A/N: hope this was fun to read heheheh see y'all next time <3

Azriel taglist: @chessebookgirl (if you guys want to be tagged in any character fics please tell me and I will happily add you <3)

#acotar #acotar fandom #acosf #azriel shadowsinger #a court of silver flames #a court of mist and fury #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel fluff

[hgfictionwriter]

Teasing

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: Jessie's not a particularly jealous person, but when it comes to you, well, things are different. You and Jessie are missing each other while Jessie's out with the team and you're at an event.

A/N / Warning: Inspiration finally struck again. The usual warnings still apply - smut, language, etc.. Hope you all enjoy! Oh, and I defaulted back to Jessie being with Chelsea. I'll switch over eventually!

gif credit to @glimmerofawesome

"How's your night going, beautiful?" Jessie blocked out the din of the bar she and the team were in as she sent you a text.

"It's fine. Missing you, wish you were here. How's your night?"

"It's okay. Pretty boring, but I've still gotta stay for a while longer. You know, fulfill my social duty and all."

"Too bad. I'm heading out soon. I hate these networking events. I've dealt with enough drunk flirting for one night."

Jessie sat up a bit in her seat, eyes narrowing at her phone. "Sorry, what?" She typed out.

"You know. Smarmy partners from out of town getting a bit too confident after a few drinks. I'm okay - please don't worry, but yeah, promises of dancing and a good time despite me explicitly saying I have a girlfriend. A gorgeous and wonderful one, at that."

Jessie's chest tightened and burned as she read the message. You were beautiful and charming, so it was really no surprised that someone would hit on you. Still, she didn't have to like it.

"Well, I'm glad you're leaving. I'm sorry you had to deal with that. Hopefully it hasn't been too bad."

"As if you're a stranger to being flirt with lol. I've seen the way the girls look at you ;) I mean, I should know, I'm one of them. But no, it's all good. Like I said, just makes me miss you."

"Well, text me when you're home so I know you made it safe. And get away from all those lecherous girls (and guys?). I don't like hearing about them looking at my girl ;)"

"I know, baby. Believe me, when their eyes were raking over me, all I thought about was you and the way you look at me when you're on top of me."

Jessie's eyes widened momentarily as her head snapped up to look around, suddenly very aware of everyone around her. Thankfully, everyone seemed mostly preoccupied. Before she could think beyond the visual of pinning you to the bed beneath her, her phone buzzed again.

"They don't know how good you fuck me. They don't know how good you make me feel."

"Fuck," Jessie whispered before she could stop herself. The feeling that went through her was instantaneous. She fidgeted in her seat, eyes darting around self-consciously before tapping out a reply.

"Jesus christ, baby girl." Send. "What are you trying to do to me?" She exhaled shakily and tried to ignore the heat she felt rising to her cheeks.

"What do you mean?"

She smirked. You knew damn well what you were doing.

"Babe."

"I mean, I guess it wouldn't hurt to stay out longer. Go dancing."

Jessie's grip tightened subconsciously on her phone as her eyes bore into the characters on the screen.

"Well then I'm coming there." Jessie rapidly typed out her reply, holding back the desire to write "Not without me, you're not." Jessie didn't consider herself a controlling person, she trusted you and you were both secure in your relationship together, but well, you just had a way of working her up. The thought of someone else wanting you, touching you, having you - she knew it was all harmless, but it drove her crazy nonetheless.

"Yeah? And what?"

Jessie looked around again before responding.

"And I'll make sure the only person who's grinding on you is me."

"Mm, baby. I love when you get like this."

A smirk tugged at the corner of Jessie's mouth.

"Your hips against mine. I'll move your hair to the side and kiss down your neck, my hand on your back and pulling you close to me." Jessie bit her lip briefly. "And if you're good, I'll lead you by the hand to the bathroom and fuck you. Your cum pooling in my hand as you tighten around me."

"Oh my fucking God, Jess. You're so hot. You've nearly got me touching myself in the back of this cab. I can picture you next to me, your hand moving up my thigh. I'd give anything to have your fingers inside of me."

Jessie exhaled again, looking around the room as she steeled herself. She checked the time on her phone.

"Baby, please. I need you so bad already. I want you on top of me."

Jessie's eyes scanned the text before she locked her screen again. This was getting out of hand. It buzzed once more.

"Show me I'm yours. I wanna scream your name."

"Hey, you okay?"

Jessie startled, nearly jumping out of her seat as her head snapped up to see Niamh looking at her with concern.

"Oh! Yeah, yeah," she nodded, doing her damnedest to seem nonchalant. She grimaced a bit. "I'm just not feeling that good. My head's pounding." She really should try to stay longer...but fuck it. "I think I'm gonna go."

"Oh okay, well, feel better. I'll see you at practice tomorrow?" Niamh asked as she gave Jessie's shoulder a squeeze.

"Yeah, for sure. I'm gonna go - you can let people know if they ask, right?"

"Don't worry. Rest up."

Jessie gave a half-hearted smile and wave and was out the door.

"Where are you?"

"On my way home. I'm so wet for you. I need to do something about it."

"Fuck," Jess breathed again. She typed, "I'm headed home, too. My baby needs me to take care of her."

"You have no idea. No one makes me feel like you do."

"They better not." She replied simply, biting her tongue on the matter as she climbed into the back of the car.

"Well, I guess you better get home soon and show me who this pussy belongs to."

Jessie exhaled sharply before readjusting her position. The tension that was mounting between her legs kept her from sitting still. Her mind was racing with thoughts and images of the two of you together. She needed you. She wanted to take you. And even with how much she loved and respected you, she wanted to claim you.

She rolled out her shoulders and gripped her knee tightly as she tried to relax.

Time went by achingly slowly as you sent teasing message after teasing message. Your messages were exhilarating, but taunting at times. It only made matters worse when her phone buzzed showing a phone call from you. She swallowed as she picked up.

"Hi, my love," your voice came through from the other end of the line. Jessie gulped once more as her nails dug into her leg again. "Don't say anything. I just got home. I'm getting undressed and I'm getting ready for you. Here - listen." Jessie's eyes fluttered shut and her jaw dropped as sounds of your wetness filled her head. Her eyes only opened again when your voice filtered back in. "That's how much I need you. It's all for you."

"I love you so much," Jessie said as she bundled her shirt in a fist, loss for words otherwise and desperate for some kind of release.

"I love you too, baby," you replied softly. "I can't wait until you fill me up."

Jessie's mouth fell agape once more. The craziest part of it all is that you were nearly as reserved as she was in day to day life. The fact that you were like this with her and her alone made her feel like she was on top of the world. She'd allowed you into a special place in her heart, in her being, and you'd done the same for her. Nothing could be better.

By the time the cab pulled up in front of your apartment, Jessie felt like she might burst out of her skin.

She took the stairs two at a time as she ascended the stairwell up to where you were waiting. She grunted in frustration as she fumbled with the keys before the lock turned and she threw the door open. Her gaze was immediately drawn to the light coming from your room down the hall. She'd taken off her shirt and thrown it aside and was already undoing her jeans by the time she rounded the doorframe to see you lying on the bed, head thrown back, fingers massaging your clit.

"Fuck, babe," Jessie breathed as she quickly finished undressing and climbed up onto the bed, immediately grasping your hand and giving you a kiss on the back of it before pushing your legs back and tasting you.

You let out a cry at the touch and placed your hand on the back of Jessie's head as she began to lap up your juices.

"Oh my god, baby," you moaned, hips gyrating up into her mouth. "I love you. I needed you so bad. Oh my god."

She moaned in appreciation as her lips closed around your clit and she sucked hard at the sensitive bud. She smiled as your hips jerked at the action.

"You taste so good," she mumbled as her tongue trailed up and down between your folds. "And you're all mine." She grinned again as your fingers tightened in her hair.

"No one else's," you affirmed in a breathy voice, followed up by another moan as she flicked her tongue across your clit. She continued to devour you and it wasn't long before your cries filled the room. "Don't stop," you pleaded as you gripped her hair tightly and began to cum. She moaned deeply as your legs flexed around her head and she continued to lap up your juices like it was the only thing that mattered in this world.

When your legs finally relaxed and your hips fell back down to the bed, she laid one more kiss on your lips before wiping her chin and climbing up your body. As she did, ran two fingers along your folds and grinned at the small cry you let out as your hands gripped her biceps. She leaned down and whispered in your ear as her fingers traced around your entrance.

"You still want me to fill you up, baby?" She nipped at your earlobe. "Make your pussy mine all over again? Make sure you keep thinking of me and only me anytime someone else wants you?"

"Oh god," you moaned in need as you writhed beneath her.

"Do you want me, baby?" She asked softly as her fingers continued to tease you.

"Always," you whimpered. "Oh god, Jess. Please, I need you inside me."

She wrapped her free arm around your back and leaned down to tenderly kiss your jawline.

"You're the only one for me," she said before sinking her fingers deep inside of you. Your breath caught in your throat and she bit down on your collarbone, stopping herself before it got to be too much.

"Fuck, you feel so amazing," she breathed in reverie. "You feel incredible every time." She shook her head as she slowly pulled out and moved back in. "God, so tight."

You didn't hold back, your moans filling the room as Jessie began to pick up her pace. "You feel so good inside me, Jess." You clutched her to you. "You fill me perfectly."

Jessie growled in approval as she began to fuck you harder. Even if you hadn't laid a finger on her, she was dizzy with pleasure from knowing how good she made you feel and to know it was because of her - no one else - her.

"Baby, you're perfect for me," she praised as she took you in.

A night out with her team, fan adoring her and flirting with her, she didn't need it - all she wanted was to be with you right now. To be the one to take you high and over the edge. To fall asleep with you, wake up with you and breathe you in.

Your grip tightened on her and your cries rose in pitch. She kissed your neck tenderly.

"Go ahead, baby. I'm here, I won't let go," she coaxed you as your sounds echoed off the walls and you began to tighten around her fingers.

Her name fell from your lips as your whole body tensed up and all the pleasure building inside of you released. You were vaguely aware of the whimpers that came from her as she bucked against you and pulled you ever closer.

As you drifted down from your orgasm, she slowly and gently kissed up your neck and face. Your mind and body finally calmed and she reached your lips. She gave you a soft kiss coupled with a sly grin.

"Hi," she said. You were still catching your breath, but managed to nod and return a lazy smile.

"Hi," you chuckled. You brought your hands up to cup her face and kissed her again, deeper this time. She returned it earnestly, grazing a thumb across your cheekbone. You smiled once more and gave her a soft peck. "Thanks for coming home. I missed you."

She laughed and kissed your cheek. "I missed you, too. Could you tell?"

#jessie fleming #jessie fleming x reader #jflem #woso #woso community #woso x reader #canwnt #chelsea wfc #woso imagine

[parad-ice-lostandfound]

Prompt: The Prefect and their friends talk about the events of the Glorious Masquerade and come to some... rather belated conclusions.

Pairing: GN!Prefect/ Yuu/ MC with Deuce Spade, Epel Felmier and Sebek Zigvolt (Platonic)

Genre: Crack

TW: Slight spoilers for Book 5 of Glorious Masquerade.

AN: So... finally read the ending of Glorious Masquerade. I have very many feelings about Malleus and Rollo (obviously) but I also have many feelings about the Prefect's immunity to the firelotuses that everyone so conveniently forgot. In Idia's words, they're all a bunch of 'unga bunga, brute force' kinda people lmao-

This is also my first time writing for Sebek and Epel so I'm very nervous lol. If they seem out of character or something else seems weird, let me know!

"Man, I'm beat."

Deuce flopped onto your bed, sinking into the soft mattress with a sigh of relief. You smiled at him, running a comb through your hair to remove any tangles in it.

The two of you were already in pyjamas, tired from a night of dancing and socializing. You were waiting on a few more people though.

"Did you tell Epel and Sebek to meet us in my room?" You asked him as you ran your comb through your hair. The older students had to report the entirety of the previous night to Professor Trein, so you had decided that the first years could have their own tea-spilling session in your room. Grim, however, wanted to hear the heroic tales of the older students (and regale them with his own, no doubt) so he was with Professor Trein instead of being with you.

"I told Epel" his voice was muffled as he spoke, face smushed against the pillow. "He said they'd be here-"

Knock, knock. "Prefect? Are you in there?"

You walked over to the door, opening it to find Epel and Sebek, both in their pyjamas as well. Epel smiled at you, holding his hands behind his back, "I got Sebek like Deuce told me to."

"Human, what is the meaning of this?" Sebek huffed, too tired to yell his words like he usually did. He crossed his arms over his chest, narrowing his eyes at you. "As a retainer of Malleus-sama, I must get the required eight hours of sleep to continue to serve him diligently. How dare you keep me up after a night of saving the entirety of Twisted Wonderland from those abysmal flowers, and another night of merry-making?"

His words lacked their usual fire, so you just gave him a cheeky smile and pulled the two of them inside, closing the door behind them. "Come on, I just wanna talk to you guys. Besides, I have snacks."

Epel gave you a side-eye, trying to keep a cheeky smile from forming on his face. "Vil would be so mad."

"What Vil doesn't know won't hurt him~" you hummed, and Epel giggled. Sebek just sighed, taking his place on your bed after nudging Deuce a little.

"And then, when the flowers started climbing up his tail, he climbed onto Professor Trein's shoulder!"

"What?!" "Oh my-" "HOW ILL-MANNERED!"

You giggled at the reactions of your friends as you recounted Grim's actions. The four of you were sat on your bed. You were sitting with your back against the headboard, a pillow on your lap on which Deuce rested his head. With his feet planted on the bed and his knees in the air, his legs made a backrest for Epel who leaned against them, sitting with his legs criss-crossed. On your right side sat Sebek, with the snacks you four were sharing in the middle of the bed.

"I had half a mind to pull him off Professor Trein, but before that, the Bell of Solace rang," you hummed, messily braiding Deuce's hair as you spoke. "And then all the flowers wilted, and well, you know the rest."

"I still can't believe Grim tried to climb Professor Trein," Epel giggled as Sebek shook his head. Deuce sighed, looking up at you, "Well, I can't blame the little guy for being scared. Those flowers were no joke."

"Yeah, for you guys maybe. For me, they were just plain old flowers, if a little persistent and irritating," you shrugged.

"What?"

"Magicless human, remember?"

All three boys looked at you like you had grown three heads and burst into song and dance. You gave them a defensive glare, "What? I'm just saying, those things were perfectly harmless to me."

"....Yeah... Wait, does this mean we could have just sent you up to ring the bell?"

"Probably not...? I mean, Rollo was there on the top guarding the bell wasn't he? If he used magic against me, I'd be defenceless."

"Well, Rollo seemed a bit... partial towards you? You could've tricked him like you did with Azul-senpai that one time..." Deuce trailed off, and the four of you took in his words.

There was a moment of silence before-

"YOU MEAN TO TELL ME THERE WAS NO NEED TO PUT MALLEUS-SAMA IN DANGER?!"

#ice writes #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #x reader #gn!yuu #gn!reader #gn!prefect #twst #twst deuce #twst sebek #twst epel #deuce #epel #sebek #glorious masquerade #twst x reader #gn!mc

[candycandy00]

The most hilarious thing in the world to me is watching all the right wing morons freaking out over X-Men 97 being “woke” and accidentally revealing that they have in fact never read an X-Men comic book and if they watched the old cartoon at all, it was only in passing and they never paid attention to it.

I’m not even talking about the fact that the X-Men have always met their definition of “woke”, even from the very beginning. No, I’m talking about the utterly baffling number of straight up factual errors I see them spouting. It’s absolutely embarrassing. They present themselves as fans, and are the exact type of guys who would gatekeep comics and assume any random woman in a comic store is a “fake fan”, but they have no clue about some of the most iconic elements from both the comics and the old cartoon!

I watched a video by a guy who had no idea Morph was a character in the old cartoon, and had never even heard of the Age of Apocalypse (one of the most famous X-Men stories in existence). I watched another by a guy freaking out over Storm’s Mohawk, not realizing it’s part of one of her most iconic looks from the 80’s. He showed a picture of her in her first costume from the comics (on a cover of X-Men Classic of all things) that looked way sexier than she was normally drawn when wearing that costume. Then said they “toned down” her look for the original cartoon, not knowing that her cartoon look was an exact replica of her look in the comics when the cartoon was made. They didn’t tone down anything. That was just what she looked like in the comics at the time.

The new cartoon is great. And I say this as a person who was totally obsessed with the old cartoon to the point that it worried my parents. To the point that I (a super calm and well behaved child) threw a massive tantrum when I realized the VCR had failed to record a new episode while I wasn’t home and cried on the couch for hours. To the point that my entire family still, to this day, knows every character’s name (and real name!) without ever watching the show because I talked about it so much.

I’ve never had a problem with “fake fans” of anything, because I figure if you fake something like that, odds are good that you’ll end up genuinely getting into whatever you’re pretending to like. And more fans of something is always a good thing in my book. But when those fake fans are actively trashing something I love just to grift to their narrow minded audiences, using completely false information, it’s ridiculous.

Honestly I wish I could just force these guys to read any storyline from Claremont’s 80’s run. It doesn’t even matter which one. They’re all solid gold. But maybe reading something so freaking great would open their tiny minds just a little bit.

#X-men #x men #x men 97 #Candy rants

[necroflame]

On the Way to a Smile (Dark!Rafe Cameron x F!Reader)

Paring: Dark!Rafe Cameron x F!Reader

Summary: On the cusp of your wedding, you are haunted by a shade from your past who just can't seem to leave you alone.

Warnings: Implied non-con, drugging, loss of virginity, original characters, wedding crashing, possessive behaviour, flashbacks, bullying, substance use, cheating, implied eating + body image issue (18+)

🦇gill – "I made a story board for this on pinterest if anyone is interested, this is my first dark fic + semi smut so any feedback would be very appreciated! I also included some linked visuals but that's only how I imagined things to look, you can follow your own destiny." 🌬 17k (buckle up ya'll)

i.

"What's all this?"  

Strewn across the Cameron's dining table was an array of objects that could only be described as a mixed blessing. Multiple binders containing silk swatches protruding from the edges, sticky notes with potential dietary requirements, and different flora species – planning a wedding was less of a journey and more of a ride. 

Averting your burning eyes from your laptop screen, you acknowledged Rafe with a cordial smile, lazily gesturing to the conglomeration of wedding itinerary. 

"My future." 

The blonde simply hummed, eyes narrowing as he leisurely rounded the dark oak to stand beside you. He silently lingered there for a moment, ring-clad fingers dancing across the drafted invitations with an indecipherable expression. 

"Where's Sarah? Ain't she supposed to be helping you with all this shit?" 

You refrained from rolling your eyes. Rafe was, after all, a friend of the family, and by extension earned your respect. Even If he could be a complete dick–

"I am helping, thank you very much!" 

Sarah's voice, now tinged with irritation, reverberated from the pantry before she emerged with a bag of microwave popcorn. "What do you have to offer other than giving us a headache?" A deep crease settled between her brows as she threw her flaxen locks into a low ponytail, setting the bag into the microwave. 

"Well you see, Sarah, I'm a man with a fine eye for detail." He prodded his haughtily puffed chest which Sarah scoffed at, glancing towards you with disbelief. 

"Says the boy who'd be leaving the house with his shoelaces undone were it not for Wheezie." 

"Now you're just making shit up–"

"Both of you, please!" With an exasperated sigh, you cradled your throbbing temples in the seat of your palms. "If you're going to argue, do it somewhere else."

Ding!

A much-needed reprieve from the stifling tension in the room, the microwave beeped, signalling that the popcorn was ready. However, the pause was short-lived. As soon as the timer stopped, the silence was disrupted by Rafe's voice. His tone mocking and derisive.

"Ordering me around in my own house, hm?" His short, dirty blonde locks cascaded over his eyes as he shook his head, failing to conceal his lour. "Nah, that's not how it works sweetheart. Maybe I'd allow it if you were marrying me."

"Rafe." Sarah hissed. "Shut up and get out."

In the typical fashion of the first-born Cameron, Rafe disregarded his sister's command, instead opting to leer down at you like some voracious beast reading to trap you in its gaping maw. 

"So where's the lucky man? He got to stake his claim, now he's leaving all the work for you?" 

You ignored his taunts, for that was what they were. He fed off reactions like a leech. You had come to realise this over the years as he evolved into an obnoxious variant of the boy you once admired. Rather than giving him the attention he craved so dearly, you turned your focus to Sarah as she came to sit beside you. 

"If you must know, he's working to pay off his student loans," You fought the urge to bite back at his spiteful remarks, ultimately losing when you added; "Maybe one day when you take care of your responsibilities, you will understand."

Sarah suppressed her snot beneath a mouthful of popcorn. As you reached for a handful of your own, a hand slid in between, suddenly pushing the bowl out of reach. 

"Careful." Rafe drawled warningly, pointing to a trumpet silhouette dress advertised in a women's magazine you had circled with a red marker. "That dress is real pretty, it would be a shame if you outgrew it."

ii.

It was winter, 2006. 

You were five, perched on your mother's lap in the front seat of your father's Chrysler 300C as she consoled you through hiccuping sobs. This Christmas, the esteemed Camerons were your family's special holiday destination; a far cry from the usual dinner and movie at your grandparents.

Numerous road signs were posted throughout Figure 8, warning drivers to approach the winding roads with caution due to the unusually high levels of sleet. Despite the treacherous conditions, your father traversed along as he usually would. You whimpered and pawed at your mother's blouse in a bid to be reassured, but she merely shushed you.

"Don't worry, baby. You're safe."

As you pulled up along a circular drive encompassed by large plains of neatly trimmed verdure, a house came into view… if you could even call it that.

 A quadruple frontage acting as a supporting beam for the large balcony above donned with red, white and blue flags and multiple seating arrangements. On the right side of the glass entry doors was a metal plaque spelling 'Tannyhill' 

You beamed up at the place in awe. "Is this a castle?" 

Your father chuckled, ruffling your loose hair. 

"Something like that."

A man emerged from the double doors, dressed in the typical 'low-key' Figure 8 attire: white slacks, a chequered shirt, and leather loafers. He was a splitting image of your father and all the other men on the island, carrying an aura of confidence in every sedate step.

You were urged out of the car with a gentle but firm push. The strange man’s beady eyes— like two pale corks screwed into his head— landed on you disconcertingly, as though you were a microorganism being inspected beneath a scope. 

"Hello, little one." His eyes crinkled as he smiled, bending down to your level. "What's your name?"

Your young mind could not fathom why he frightened you like the animated villain in your favourite TV show. When he extended his hand to you, you instinctively retreated into your mother's skirt.

"Don't mind her, Ward." Your father emerged from the driver’s side of the vehicle. "She'll warm up real fast if you offer her something sweet."

"A sweet tooth?" The man, Ward, mused. His voice mild-mannered and pleasant to the ear. "My son is the same, I'm sure you'll get along just fine."

Inside, the house was even more impressive. Tannyhill had been the proud ancestral home of the Cameron family for generations and their wealth and prestige were evident in the sheer opulence of its interior. The walls of the hallway were draped in thick upholstery, varying in shades of crimson, indigo and gold. An ornate floral pattern embroidered in gold thread was meticulously sewn onto the walls. 

Adorning the hallway to the kitchen were multiple picture frames. One in particular caught your interest; a young boy sat on Ward's lap in a velvet-lined chair, smiling and well-groomed with golden locks and a well-pressed collar. 

You wondered if this was the aforementioned son.

Ward's explanation of the Plantation's historical significance fell on deaf ears as you gaped up at the towering ceilings. Your mother attempted to conceptualise it for you through the metaphor of an onion; Tannyhill was composed of multiple layers of history, each integrating to create the rich heritage value of the place. 

"You came here once when you were just a little bean in my belly."

"I don't remember that."

She pulled you into her side by the shoulder as she laughed. "Of course you don't, darling." 

Ward came to a halt at the staircase, raising a finger to his lips.

"Sarah's nursery is upstairs. We just got her down before you arrived but I'll let you have a peek."

 "Oh, that’s alright, Ward. We wouldn't want to disturb her." Your father interjected, mirroring Ward’s hushed tone.

"That won't be an issue, my angel is a heavy sleeper," he whispered, motioning for you to follow him with a reassuring wave of his hand.

“Rafe's up there at the moment,” Confusion enveloped you as a frown settled in place of his previous jovial demeanour. When his stiffened gaze met yours, heat bloomed beneath your cheeks and you perked up. “Maybe you can keep him company, little one." 

The first door on the right was painted a light, dusty rose. Above the door frame were little wooden letters decorated by fairies and flowers spelling out ‘Sarah’. The dry hinges screeched as Ward opened the door.

“Rafe, come meet our guests.” 

The boy from the picture emerged, older now and taller than expected. Unlike the bright smile he wore in the photograph, there was not a trace of joy on his face. But despite his gloomy demeanour, there was a certain charm about him that you couldn't help but notice.

Beautiful, he’s beautiful. 

“Hello.” He said robotically, as though the syllables were being tugged out of his mouth by an invisible wire. 

Ward glared disapprovingly at his son. There was a silent exchange between the two before Rafe finally sighed as if submitting to some sort of inevitable conclusion.

“Merry Christmas, it’s nice to meet you all.” 

His eyes met yours. Crystal orbs of cerulean, framed by a dark outer ring… you were transfixed by his beauty. 

You sat mutely at dinner, only answering direct questions with the bare minimum of words. Mrs Cameron was a lovely and welcoming woman who did her best to include you in the conversation despite your reluctance to participate. Rafe's occasional snarky remarks seemed to anger Ward. His face would darken each time and he would glare in his son's direction with a look of disapproval. The tension between the two was thick, oozing onto you from across the table. You made eye contact with Rafe a few times. He held it with no indication of discomfort whilst you were always the one to eventually flit your attention elsewhere, unable to withstand the strange intensity. 

As the maids began to clear the table, Ward suggested to both you and Rafe, “Go and play while us adults have our talk.”

With the sun making a hasty departure below the treeline in the distance, It had cooled off exponentially outside. You trailed behind Rafe as he led you to a small shed next to the pool, struggling to tug your gloves over trembling fingers. 

You waited outside as Rafe disappeared beyond the frame, returning a few moments later with a black and white ball.

“Do you know how to play?”

The ball was familiar but you shook your head, unsure of the rules. 

“Don’t touch the ball with your hands or make contact with me.” 

“Make contact?” You tilted your head in confusion. 

“You can’t kick your enemy on purpose, got it?”

You gave a nod– still unsure about why you’d want to kick anyone on purpose– and Rafe tossed the ball at you. The ground was partially frozen beneath your feet and you stumbled backwards with the sudden force of the ball, nearly toppling over. 

“Good, let's play.” 

At first, it felt hopeless as your feet slipped on the icy ground cartoonishly. Rafe’s size, strength and experience did not deter him from going full pelt, and it quickly became apparent that the only way you could gain any leverage over him was if you were to be sneaky– which of course, was easier said than done. 

Every pivot of your foot he anticipated. His agile movements made it nearly impossible to bypass him and you found yourself huffing in frustration as he swiftly confiscated the ball from your weak stance. 

“This is not fair!” You cried exasperatedly, ego depleted after numerous failures.

“You’ve got to try harder if you want to beat me.” 

Rafe’s arrogant tone only stoked the flames of your wrath. Slowing down, you realised that your frantic footwork before an attack left your defences vulnerable. Watching Rafe’s strategy, you could see that he was coming head-on, anticipating that you would focus your resources on an attack. 

This time rather than barreling towards him head-on, you hunkered down into a low stance, turning slightly and awaiting his arrival. Once within range, you swiftly kicked your right foot out, connecting with the ball. It shot through his legs, the suddenness of your attack delaying his reaction ever so slightly, allowing you ample opportunity to rush past him and possess the ball. 

After the shock wore off and Rafe turned to face you, his face was adorned by a countenance of surprise. “Wow, not bad.” 

“Got you!” You giggled, spinning around in glee. 

“You’re more fun than Sarah.” Rafe earnestly remarked. “She never wants to play. All she does is sleep and cry.”  

“I like playing with you.” 

The corners of his lips tugged upwards, his dour demeanour melting away into a softer grin. 

“Let’s try something different.” He suggested, your stomach clenching in apprehension at the mischievous glint in his eyes.

“...Ok.” 

“You stand over there,” He pointed to a small clearing between two trees, “That is the goal. You have to try and protect it.” 

“Ok.” You giggled, heart thumping in rhythm with your hasty steps. 

“Ready?”

You gave a thumbs up and he backed up. Once he was pleased, he took an initial calculative step before thundering towards the ball, sending it soaring through the air. You were sure that it would not make contact with you as it was well above your head. However, after it had risen, it quickly descended back down with the speed and precision of a hunting eagle. It slammed into the edge of your brow, making contact with a surprising amount of force. Your legs gave way under the pressure as you clutched the spot where the ball hit, eyes tearing up from the impact.

“Ow.” Your voice wobbled as you cradled your head. 

“Oh, oops.” Rafe rushed to kneel beside you, gingerly lifting your chin to inspect your face. “Are you ok?” 

You didn’t respond, and when he noticed the tears welling up in your eyes, his entire body stiffened. 

“Hey, hey, hey. Don’t cry, you’re ok.” 

Blinking furiously, you managed to keep it together, but your voice came out as a dry croak. “Am I bleeding?”

“Nah, it’ll just be a little bruise. Nothing to worry about.” 

His assurance dampened your concern, and you nodded. “Even though that really hurt, I still won. The ball didn’t pass the trees!” 

Rafe began to chuckle but was abruptly disturbed by the click of the back door. Your mother called your name into the still air. Sniffling, you brushed your hair back into place when his tight grip clasped onto your shoulders, stilling your frantic movements. 

“I was saving this for later,” His voice was hushed now as he removed a lollipop from his back pocket. “But it’s yours if you promise not to tell.” 

Wiping the corner of your eyes, you smiled, “Alright.”

iii.

You froze in front of the mirror.

Floor length, delicately laid seams stretching taut against soft curves, the colour perfectly harmonious with your undertones– The dress was a beautiful testament to how far you've come, like a chain binding the past and the present together.

There was just one issue…it wouldn’t zip up the whole way. 

You urged the seamstress to keep trying, tugging the resistant zip until it eventually gave way. It didn't, and on one particularly harsh tug, the zip got caught and pinched your flesh. You hissed, and she apologised before releasing it down and backing off. 

“Your wedding is in a week?” She inquired, glancing over your frame insouciantly.

“Yes, Saturday week.”

“I should be able to add some alterations to the back in that time.” 

Her attempt at assuaging you was futile – your mind could only focus on the wheel of possibilities, endlessly spinning. “What if there’s nothing you can do? Or the alteration destroys the style of the dress? Is there another alternative?” 

Her smile was solemn as she met your frantic gaze in the reflection. “Well, I suppose the only other suggestion I can make is to move more and eat less.”

You pressed your lips together before stepping out of the changing room into the harshly lit waiting space. Your mother’s eyes immediately widened as she shot off the couch with a mixture of admiration and concern concocting within her irises.  

“Oh, Darling. The dress is beautiful, but you don’t look happy. What’s the matter?”

“There is a slight issue…with the back.” The seamstress sighed, urging you to turn. 

Your mother attempted to stifle her gasp beneath a freshly manicured hand. She skittered forward brushing delicate fingers over the fabric, prodding and pushing at the broad opening. 

“Mum,” You groaned. “Just be honest with me, how bad is it?” 

“Well, it’s about two inches so it’s not unnoticeable.” A crease formed in her brow as she inspected you, momentarily stuck in thought. “Have you considered styling your hair down?” 

“Yes, but that's not going to fix the issue.” 

She nodded, turning her attention to the seamstress, “Ma’am, I am willing to pay the price to have my daughter's dress prioritised.” 

Before she could even consider the request, the familiar chime of your phone rang out, breaking your dazed stupor. As you peered at the screen, the name vibrantly lighting it up like a lighthouse beacon made you deeply exhale. 

“Sorry, I’ll just answer this.”  

“Is it Thomas?” Your mother’s ears piqued up in interest as you shuffled back to the changing room, her thin lips stretching into a downward crescent.

“Don’t sound more excited than me, mum.”

You swiped the accept button on the call after clicking the lock shut. “Hey sweetheart, how’s it going at the shop?” 

A pit swelled within your stomach. “Things could be better.”

“Is there an issue? Last time you couldn’t have sounded happier.” Thomas’s voice was laced with concern, the image of his deep-set frown and fidgeting fingers flashing into your mind.

“I mean, it’s nothing that can’t be fixed. Just a minor issue with the beading.”

“Alright then, so it could be worse? Regardless, I’m certain you look beautiful.”

“You’re kind of required to say that, y’know, as my fiance.” You whispered timorously.

“Required or not doesn’t make a difference if I mean it all the same.”

The impressive weight of the dress’s train dragged the bodice down with it as it cascaded into a pile of limbs on the floor. A chuffed smile melded onto your face. “Was there any real purpose to this call?” 

“Depends on what you count as purposeful. I wanted to hear my beautiful fiancé’s voice…and ask what other plans she has for the day?”

This time you snorted. Thomas was always vying for your attention. “I’m supposed to be meeting Edie at the club for lunch. She’s afraid you’ll hog up all my attention after the wedding and plans to get me drunk so she can find out all your dirty secrets.” 

“Well she’s not wrong about the first part,” He heartily chuckled. “But try not to reveal too much, I think we’ve had enough rumours spread about us for a lifetime.”

“I’ll do my best. Anyway, I probably should get going, I’m already running late.”

“Alright, I’ll see you later then. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

Your mother resumed her position on the plush white couch while she waited for you, snapping up as you beckoned for her towards the entrance. She stalked closely behind your tail, approaching warily as you headed to your car. 

“We discussed options on how the dress could be altered. It seems like the quickest solution will be to make it backless.”

“Honestly at this point, I don’t really care,” A heavy and tired sigh escaped your lips as you unlocked your car. “As long as it fits, that's all that matters to me.” 

“Darling,” Her cold grasp caught your arm, forcing you to face her. “I know how you get. Your mind is all over the place, I can see it in your eyes.”

“It’s fine mum. I gave up on perfection a long time ago.” 

“Either way, this is your big day and I want you to enjoy it. Don’t let this small mishap ruin it for you, alright?” She sagely advised, soothingly rubbing your shoulders. 

“Ok, I won’t. Promise.” Though the smile was forced, you didn’t have it in you to counter her pleading eyes. She hugged you firmly, planting a kiss on your cheek as you parted ways. 

The country club was brimming with familiar faces, each passing by with a nod of the head. In all honesty, you couldn’t remember half of their names, only being acquainted through your parents. Etiquette was an expected part of the club, though, so you returned their superficial pleasantries with an equally superficial smile. 

The dining hall was occupied by an elderly couple sharing hushed whispers beside the far right window and a group of young men ravenously devouring their meals after an afternoon playing golf. 

However, there was no sign of Edie. 

Allowing your intuition to guide you through the hive-like hallways of the facility, you eventually ended up at the outdoor bar overlooking the course green. That was where you found her; firey tresses flowing loosely over her shoulders, hunched over the bartop as she swirled a glass of glistening rosè. 

“I see you started without me.” 

Without having to turn she squealed as the sound of your voice carried over to her, attracting the attention of curious onlookers. “You made it! I was starting to think you’d bailed on me…again.”

“Ed, that was months ago. I think it’s time we move on.”

She hummed and with a light giggle tapped the stool beside her. “Only if you let me buy you a drink and promise not to complain about the heat.”

“Deal.” 

Nothing ever changed with Edie. Some people would describe her as immature, solidly stuck in the same old adolescent patterns of staying out late, drinking to the point of blacking out and entertaining unsuitable partners based on her attraction to them. But despite the opinion of others, her consistency came as a comfort to you. She knew how to have fun, and this energy never ceased to rub off on you.

“Now I know you’re probably sick of hearing it,” Already knowing where this was going, you rolled your eyes to emphasise how you felt about this turn in the conversation. Her voice was slightly slurred at this point, having gone through half a bottle of prosecco together. If you didn’t keep your wits about you, your tongue would soon become looser than you wished. 

 “But I have to ask–”

“Ed.” Your tone was firm. 

“Are you sure about this?” 

You sighed, leaning back in the stool like a beleaguered outpost, utterly surrendered and defenceless against her heavy onslaught. 

“The amount of times you’ve asked me this is making me think you just don’t like him.”

“Babe, you know it’s more complicated than that.” She gently clasped your hand. “If you’re happy, I’m happy, promise…even with his track record.” 

Your muscles stiffened, weighing you down like a heavy stone in your seat. “We put that behind us many years ago.”

“Well yeah,” She reticently continued. “I guess I’m still in the process of forgiving him, though.”

“If I can then I’m sure you have it in you.”

Her viridian eyes continued to pierce into you as she tilted her glass up to glossed lips. Sensing the finality in your tone, she nodded. 

“So, are you?”

“Am I what?” You chortled incredulously. 

“Happy!”

“Yes! Trust me if I wasn’t you’d be the first one to hear about it.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” She shimmied her shoulders with a giggle, the previously heavy aura dissipating and being charioted away by the breeze. 

The debate over your love life has been a perpetual thorn in your side for many years. People liked to voice their opinions as though your life was paltry gossip they could pass on to their hairdresser. But not many took the time to consider your perspective, your feelings, your anguish. 

Edie geared the topic of discussion to her latest rendezvous. A welcome change. Her sporadic lifestyle always kept you on your toes, considering there had been no major updates in your life for some time now... well, aside from the engagement of course. With the warm buzz pulsating through your veins, nothing could disturb the serene ambience of the club.

Almost nothing. 

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t the two finest women on this island.” Kelce, and that could only mean–

“And if it isn’t our favourite troublesome trio. What brings y'all here this evening?”

Rafe lingered behind his posse like a shadow, his feathery locks tucked beneath a dull grey cap. Though his eyes were shielded by black-out shades, you could sense the burning heat of his gaze from a mile away– your body well attuned to it. 

“Only the same as you two of course. Mind if we join you?”

“Sorry boys, but it’s kind of a girl’s night.” You quickly interjected, masking the unease in your tone with a fleeting smile. 

Edie groaned your name, “Come on, the more the merrier.”

“Yeah come on,” Rafe echoed petulantly. “It’s been a while since we last hung out.” And you got the feeling he wasn’t talking about the rest of them.

Kelce and Topper occupied the two stools adjacent to Edie, leaving the last available seat directly beside you. Rafe was entirely isolated from the group, nursing a bitterly scented beer, and you had become his sole companion.

His stool made an awful scraping sound as he encroached on your personal space. The thick, solid weight of his thigh nudging into yours caused you to flinch and you could have sworn he smirked at the. 

“So, how’ve you been?” He lazily drawled and you didn’t miss the way he blatantly zeroed in on your ring. 

“The same as always Rafe, but I can’t say that bothers me.”

“No? Y’know that surprises me, you were always so…adventurous. Didn’t think you’d settle for the housewife lifestyle so soon.” 

“You of all people should know that others can change.” You argued with a morose huff.

“Yeah, but not you.” His chuckle was merely a blank imitation of humour, shamelessly inauthentic.  

“This is kind of unfair. You seem to know my whole life story while I can barely piece yours together these days.” 

“You wanna know what I’ve been doing?” You nodded and he slouched back against the bar stool, taking a hefty swig of his beer and removing his shades with a flick of the wrist. 

“I was at the shops recently, saw your mum,”

“...Ok?” You scoffed, struggling to see the relevance. 

“She says you’ve been acting strange lately, distant, that true?” 

“She always thinks I’m acting strangely.” She also apparently likes to gossip about my personal life.

“Thing is,” He paused for a moment, grimacing as if struggling to formulate the proper words. You knew better. Nothing Rafe did was without reason. “She’s under the impression it’s got something to do with the big day.”

“The big day, are you kidding me?” 

Your heart synchronised with the beat of the music, drowning out all other immaterial noise as it pounded slow and steady in your ears. For the first time that evening, you dared a glimpse into Rafe’s eyes, immediately noticing his pupils dilated to the size of pennies.

“Jesus– Rafe,” You hissed, snatching his chin between your fingers. “I thought you gave up on that shit.”

“Always worryin’ about me.” A humourless laugh floated from his hollow chest. Cool silver dug into the supple flesh of your wrist as he gently pried your hand away. With a bated breath, you snatched the limb from his grasp. 

“Yeah, well someone has to.” You scoffed. Remanence of snow dusted his collar and without thinking you brushed it away, watching as it fluttered into small clouds before dispersing. 

“I did give up on it, by the way,” You frowned as your eyes flitted back up to him, brow raising in disbelief considering the blaring evidence that suggested otherwise. “But something’s been bothering me recently. You know what that is?” 

“No.”

His grin was so juvenile you struggled to fathom how this man-child before you was in actuality a twenty-two-year-old well on the way to developing his frontal lobe. 

He leant forward, resting the weight of his upper body on those muscly thighs, shallow breaths puffing hot and dewy onto your neck. There was no subtlety to his show of bravado. No attempt to hide his objective as the invisible string urged him forward, enabling his crude behaviour. 

He wanted to make you suffer. 

“The fact that I may have been the first man to have you, but in a week… I might not be the last.” 

iv.

Brighton Grammar wasn’t any ordinary school, and it certainly wasn’t for the weak.

On your first day, you witnessed a scrawny boy with haphazard streaks of green throughout his locks get tripped in the hallway and laughed at. The next day, he returned with a full head of brown hair. 

His conformity was duller, sure, but it removed a target off his back. The positive side to being different was that you stood out and the negative was that you stood out. 

It was a lose-lose situation. 

“I don’t see why you bother with all those clubs and shit.” Rafe dallied beside you with his hands stuffed in his pockets. He took it upon himself to chauffeur you between classes, and you didn’t miss the way the crowds parted for him like a proverbial red sea. 

A sense of discomfort washed over you as Rafe’s hallowed presence had both girls and boys alike turning their heads. Then there was just you. Plain old you. It was unfair, like pitting a stone against a diamond– ultimately you stood no chance.  

“I’m trying to find my passion and form connections. You should try it sometime, then maybe you won't be such a grouch.” He snarled and swerved to the side when you reached to pinch his arm. His reaction stirred a playful snicker from your lips. 

“Uh-huh. You talk like my fuckin’ grandma, y’know that?” 

“I guess that means, unlike some people I have manners.” He glared at you again, a growing grin nearly breaking his unbothered countenance. “Anyway, I am very capable of making my own decisions and I didn’t ask for your opinion.”

“You, capable? That’s not something I ever thought I’d hear.”

“Oh screw you! Starting today I am an independent woman.”

This time he barked out a laugh. “Whatever you say, sweetheart.”

You came to a halt outside the locked classroom, leaning against the bulletin board frame and waving at your classmates as they mingled amongst each other. Rafe snatched the scheduling paper from your hands, snorting when you cursed him for it. 

“General maths with Mr Dubra? Damn, all I can say is good luck.” 

His words registered someplace in your mind, but your attention had ventured elsewhere. Rafe followed your transfixed gaze to the bulletin board; a bright-coloured poster with cursive font drew you in like a moth to a flame. In the centre of the A4 page was a picture of a small collective of students, the boy at the front particularly capturing your attention as his pointed finger directed at you. 

Auditions for Brighton Grammar’s Hamlet are to be held in the auditorium during lunchtime this Thursday! Do you have what it takes thou thespian?

“I think I’ll join the theatre club.” 

Rafe’s expression could only be described as utterly mortified. “Hey if you want to be labelled a fucking loser, be my guest,” He raised his hands in surrender. “I ain't gonna stop you since you’re an ‘independent woman’ now.”

Your attempt to swing at him failed miserably as he dodged your attack with ease. 

Ironically enough, you had been joking. The spotlight never called to you the thought of that much attention made your skin crawl. What you were drawn to on the other hand was the underappreciated art of stage crew, the glue that binds a production together. 

But the ironic part of it all was that you did end up joining. For one, pathetic and degrading reason:

Thomas Hughes. The boy on the poster.

While you would describe Rafe as universally attractive, Thomas was the kind of handsome that not everyone could appreciate; a somewhat lanky build, eyes deep set into his skull as though he were eternally sleep deprived and unkempt hair tied into a loose bun. 

But most notable was his aura, one of complete self-assurance and radiating warmth. He was also in Rafe’s year level– the grade above you –and you were certain the blonde would not approve, which made it all the more thrilling. 

And for the sole reason of your silly little schoolgirl crush, you found yourself itching to get out of class after fourth period on Thursday. Unbeknownst to the pack of hounds you liked to call friends. 

“You coming to lunch?” Topper asked as you passed him in the hallway, heading in the opposite direction of the cafeteria. 

You shook your head with an affable grin. “I’ll catch up with you guys later.”

“Rafe won’t be happy.” 

“Remind me to give a fuck.” 

The auditorium was located on the west wing of the school, an old block that had been neglected by the school's previous funding. The heavy double doors creaked as you pushed through them, eyes momentarily adjusting to the dim lighting. 

At the front of the stage sat a panel. Some students, some older, presumably teachers. You took a seat a few rows behind them, intent on simply observing. 

There were six others in the crowd, bouncing their knees and fidgeting with their jewellery anxiously. All apart from one girl who sat up straight, clad in a stained white gown. She caught your intrigued gaze and softly beamed in return, offering you a wave. 

Thomas emerged from the right wing clasping a manila folder. “What a turnout, huh? Now as you probably all know, I will be starring as Hamlet–” The audience erupted in a fit of claps and he bent over into a small bow.

“Thank you, thank you, I am honoured. But more importantly, we are in desperate need of an Ophelia, Gertrude and a Polonius. The show can not go on without them! So I invite you all today to give it your best shot.” 

He gave a cue to someone in the light box and the overhead fresnels were adjusted to a neutral glow. “Well then, I don’t see any point in keeping you all waiting. Who would like to go first?”

The girl in the white gown sprung her hand up with little hesitation. “Alright, thank you, Cindy. The stage is all yours.” 

Cindy, as you now came to know her, strode up the steps, hips swaying confidently like a lioness on the prowl. She was offered a script but turned it down, “I’ve memorised this act.” Another girl in the crowd scoffed, shaking her head. 

As she began, you took note of the dip in her cadence as it transitioned from her naturally firm voice to something delicate and wispy. She had an interesting way of manoeuvring across the stage, light-footed movements carrying her graciously on the wooden surface akin to a small cloud conquering the great big sky. As her performance came to an end, the panel of judges clapped and hooted, and she hid her face in the palms of her hands as it turned notably red.  

Thomas offered his hand to help her off the stage, “Great job Cindy! Although I would add for you to maybe tone down on the crazy. It is only the beginning of the play, Ophelia is still fairly sane.” 

The gleam in her eyes faltered slightly. “Oh–uh…ok. I’ll remember that for next time.”

“If there is a next time, don’t get too cocky,” Thomas spoke without looking up from his notes, missing the way her jaw fell open in surprise. 

“Who’s next?”

The room was swept into silence, everyone glancing around with hesitation. 

“You in the back!” Your head snapped upwards, heart dropping instantly, and you awkwardly gestured to confirm that he was indeed referring to you despite the burning of eyes trained on you like being under a spotlight. “Yes, you. Since no one else was brave enough to volunteer, I nominate you.”

“Oh, well I wasn’t actually going to audition. I was just interested in seeing how this all…works.” You chuckled nervously. 

“Nonsense! We don’t bite, do we?” A chorus of ‘no we don'ts’’ echoed in the large space. “Besides, it’s worth a shot. Some people are naturals and you will never know if you don’t give it a go.” 

It wasn’t like you couldn’t refuse. These were theatre kids not abductors with a gun held to your head. But there was an indescribable intensity radiating off of them as if they could sense the refusal on the tip of your tongue, and for the first time, you felt the agonising weight of what your mother would call peer pressure.

 “Alright, why not.”

“That’s the spirit!” You were ushered up to the stage before you had the chance to reconsider, face burning and legs trembling. Thomas’s fingers scraped against yours as he handed over the script. Your breath momentarily hitched and you flinched as though a spark of electricity had been transferred between you. 

“Just read what’s been highlighted, the other shit isn’t necessary.” 

You nodded, mumbling in recognition as you noticed that at least two-quarters of the page had been highlighted in yellow. 

Inhaling deeply, you centred your focus on the script, attempting to block out the sets of eyes trained on you. You opened your mouth…and laughed. A painstakingly timorous noise that could only be controlled by slapping a hand over your traitorous lips. 

 “I’m sorry, this feels so unnatural to me.” 

“No need to apologise, we’ve all been there,” Thomas’s tone was earnest, void of any judgement and this quelled the pin-pricking sensation circulating through your extremities slightly. “How ‘bout we read through the scene first so you have a better understanding of it. Shakespearean language can be a real bastard if you’re not used to it.”

You giggled at his jocose attitude, relief washing over you like a damp cloth. “I think that would help, thank you.”

From what you gathered the scene went as follows: Ophelia's father Polonius and her brother Laertes say their good-byes, consecutively warning her not to trust Hamlet’s promises of love as well as ordering her not to see Hamlet again. 

Although you still admired her performance, Thomas’s criticism of Cindy’s portrayal made much more sense now. Though Ophelia is famously driven to madness later on in the play– accumulating in her untimely and equally ambiguous end– at this stage of the story, she is merely a heartstruck girl observing the world through rose-tinted lenses. 

“Good to go?”  

“I think so.”

“Alright, everyone! Give it up for…sorry, what’s your name?”

Your voice echoed with a newfound confidence and the crowd repeated it in a cheer. Perhaps you had been wrong, maybe you did like the spotlight, only you’d never given it the proper chance. 

Mimicking Cindy, you adopted a higher pitch. Not shrill like the birds that resided outside your window each morning, but a pleasant touch of feminine; soft and delicate. You ambled across the stage, not in the same floaty manner she had employed but instead surefooted, conveying Ophelia’s clear-mindedness at this stage of the play. Unlike Cindy, however, you did not have the lines down, forcing you to take a slower approach. But this seemed to work in your favour, your slowed speech giving you plenty of opportunity to focus on your facial expressions, ensuring that they matched what was being described in the cues. 

As your performance wrapped up and the adrenaline steadily receded, you couldn’t resist fixating on Thomas in the crowd who gazed up at you as though you hung the moon and stars in the sky. 

And for the first time at your godforsaken school, you felt seen.

v.

The hum of silence echoed in the Cameron’s dining room, encompassing the yellow walls in a damp sheen that refused to dry. Silver cutlery clinked against delicate porcelain, and as you picked away at your food, Rose smiled at you from across the table. 

“So…Rafe tells us that you’re going to be in the school’s performance, what was the name–” 

“Hamlet.” The blonde blankly interrupted, and you were surprised that he even knew that. “She’s playing the girl who kills herself.” 

Ward hummed in interest, passing you the salad bowl. “That's excellent news. Theatre was a thriving business in my generation but it seems to have become somewhat of a dying art. Good on you for keeping it alive.” 

“Well I didn’t exactly plan on joining, it just kind of happened–”

“She’s got a thing for the main guy, Tobias or some shit, that’s why she auditioned.”

“Rafe!” He grunted as you nudged his shin, lips peeling into a provoking smirk at your scolding. 

“You gonna tell me I’m wrong?” He teased with a venomous undertone only you seemed to register, and your eyes narrowed at him.

“I want to see, I want to see, who’s this guy?” Sarah wheedled with her big brown eyes. 

“Shut up, Sarah–” 

“Rafe! Do not speak to your sister that way.” Ward’s voice boomed like a deafening clap of thunder, and once his pulsating anger settled, a small cry erupted from Wheezie who tried to conceal her tears beneath a dotted napkin. Rose was quick to placate the young girl with promises of dessert, whisking her off into the kitchen but not before refilling her glass of chardonnay. 

Once they were out of sight, Ward beckoned Sarah to clamber onto his lap, folding her small face into his broad neck before regarding his son with a scalding glare. “Look at what you’ve done.”

The interaction was unsettling, to say the least, but not uncommon. Rafe’s lips pinched shut, suppressing a whimper. In the face of his father’s wrath, he would always detract from his usual tough persona, retreating into the shell of a wounded puppy. You didn’t blame him. Ward could be cruel with no regard for the effect his words had on his son, and you loathed him for his blatant favouritism. 

You reached for his hand underneath the table, intertwining the cold extremity with your own. He flinched at first, aggressively flicking his head toward you. But as you gave it a gentle squeeze he seemed to catch on to your intention and his body fell back into a relaxed state. 

You tried to be there for Rafe as much as you could, but despite your efforts, the void left by an absent father was irreplaceable. You could only try your best, but sometimes you had to put yourself first, even if that meant neglecting the needs of those closest to you. 

The production was a much bigger commitment than you initially thought. Rehearsals pulled you from classes multiple times a week and you began to worry that it could potentially detract from your other subjects. But as a young woman, the possibility of it reeling you from your scholarly responsibilities was not quite as concerning as it was that you felt you were failing at your duties as a friend. 

It had been raining consistently for the past five days. Endless bouts of downpours during spring thickened the soil and left the air with an unpleasantly muggy tinge. You and Rafe slouched against the linoleum floors of the school gymnasium, slightly obscured from view by the red curtains of the wall-length window. He shut your concerns of being caught down by offering you a swig of whatever concoction he’d brought onto school premises.

“How about instead of getting your tits in a twist about it, you have some.”

Classic Rafe. 

But you did end up having some because as soon as he began ranting you knew it was necessary for your own mental wellbeing. 

“You better fucking be there ‘cause there’s no way I can deal with all those old farts on my own.”  

“Am I even invited?” You grimaced as the bitter taste invaded your tastebuds, eagerly handing the flask back, to which he condescendingly snorted. 

A gathering with Ward and his highly esteemed guests could only entail boredom to a deadly degree. Even thinking about it made you yawn, but on the other hand, you would feel bad if Rafe had to endure it on his own.  

“Dad says you're more than welcome, he likes having you around,” He let out a small chuckle, ruffling his short bangs. “He says you keep me sane like we’re an old married couple or some shit.”

At that, you couldn’t help but barked out in laughter. “Yeah right. Say we ever did hypothetically get married, one of us would probably end up killing the other.”

“Yeahhh, probably.”

 He drank again, eyeing you scrupulously, and in that moment you wished you could climb into his brain to know what he was thinking. There was a brief awkward pause before you cleared your throat and asked, “Wait, when did you say this was again?” 

“Friday, afterschool…why?”

“Shit, Rafe–”

“Nah. You gotta be fucking kiddin’ me, again. They can’t keep you after school on a Friday! That’s criminal.”

“I know, trust me I agree.”

“Don’t go then.” He countered with a raised brow, testing you. 

“I would If I could, you know that. But there’s two weeks till the show, there’s just too much to do.” 

“Sure, whatever you say.” He lifted the silver cylinder back up to his lips, taking a long swig. 

“Rafe,” You sighed, trying to reason with him. “Please don’t be mad at me, I’m sorry–”

You were cut off as the doors to the gym groaned, opening to reveal the last person you expected to see.

Thomas. 

“Oh, hey. What’s up?” He seemed surprised to see you, but even more surprised to see you with Rafe, eyes flickering between you with confusion. 

“Hi Thomas, we were just,” His attention flitted down to the flask, incriminating evidence that you quickly swept beneath Rafe’s folded leg, “Uh, what are you doing here? Never took you as the sporting kind of lad.”

Shit, that was bad. As if Rafe was thinking the same thing, he snorted into his fist. You wanted to crumble right then and there.

Thomas seemed to find your comment amusing, however, bowing his head as he chortled. “Damn, it’s that obvious, huh? But nah, I’m just tryna help Cindy find her phone. I would ask what you guys are up to, but…well, I don’t really wanna know.” 

“Ah, well I hope she finds it. We didn’t see anything, did we, Rafe?”

“Nope.” He popped his ‘p’ when answering, and you frowned, unimpressed by his cavalier attitude. “Hey man, why don’t you join us?” 

Rafe tilted his head at Thomas in what would appear to the average eye as a friendly gesture but you knew better; he was up to no good. 

“I would. But as I said, I gotta–”

“Oh c'mon, I’m sure she could do with the detox.”

“Uh…”

“Is that a yes?” He gestured toward you, “She won’t mind. In fact, I think she’d much prefer to hang out with you than me–”

Classic Rafe. You desperately waved your hands at Thomas, attempting to damage control before he had the opportunity to make the situation even more awkward. “Don’t listen to him, he’s way too used to getting his way. Go if you need to.”

A brief glint of relief flashed across Thomas’s features, and like a rabbit caught in a tiff, he seized the opportunity you provided to flee. “You’re right, I really ought to go. Thanks for the offer though, man. See you both around.” 

As soon as the doors clicked shut again, you wasted no time. Rafe didn’t even attempt to defend himself against your slew of attacks, simply taking your weak hits for what they were.

“What the fuck was that?” You finally hissed out once you’d calmed down. 

“What was what?”

“Don’t be a moron, are you trying to embarrass me?” 

“Oh, sorry for being a good wingman.” His shrug was insouciant, further frustrating you. 

“What you’re being is a pain in my ass.” 

He didn’t react to that in the way you expected. Generally, he found the humour in your insults, but this time a coldness you weren’t accustomed to receiving glazed over his eyes.

“You really like this guy, huh?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Cut the shit. You’ve only ever acted like this with that kid who proposed to you in the sandpit.” As you stood he sighed, realising you were refusing to engage in this conversation. “So will I see you on Friday or not?”

“Probably not.”

“See! I knew you’d rather hang out with him than me!” He shouted after you as you stormed off to your next class, gait regretfully swaying as the effects of Rafe’s concoction set in.

In the weeks leading up to the performance, things only became more hectic. If you were to get your cortisol levels tested the results would likely conclude abnormally high. To make matters worse, Rafe was mad at you. Topper and Kelce tried to assure you that he wasn’t, but you knew better. He didn’t respond to your texts, barely acknowledged your presence at school and hadn’t invited you over in a week. All very abnormal behaviours as, while yes, he was an inherit dickhead, you were usually exempt from this. 

So naturally, you did what any normal person in such circumstances would do; gave him the same treatment in return. Only acknowledging the damage his behaviour was inflicting upon you in furious scribbles in your lavender spiral diary. 

You were having your costume fitted in the small dressing room adjacent to the auditorium. Cindy was booked for her appointment afterwards and in the meantime she lazed on the tattered purple couch in the corner of the room, scrolling through her phone. 

A girl from the costume department examined the logistical functioning of your costume as there were a few instances in the performance where a quick change was necessary. Her vivacious red curls bounced as she turned the room upside down in search of her pins. 

“Ok then, you’re pretty much done. I’ll just have to hem the base so we adhere to theatre-safe practices and all that stupid shit they assess…” She paused and eyed you over, tugging at the loose sleeve of your dress with a hum. “You look so pretty, like a fairy.”

“Thank you.” You bashfully smiled. She returned it before turning to the other girl in the room.

“Cindy.” 

“Hm?”

“Cindy.” 

“What?” She snapped, tearing her gaze from her phone. 

“What do you think?”

“I mean it’s alright” She shrugged, face peeling into a saccharine grin. “Not really your colour but you definitely suit rags.”

 You would’ve burst out into laughter had you not been so shocked.

“Now I remember why I don’t ask for your opinion,” The redhead rolled her eyes, shoving Cindy’s garment bag into her lap. “Be useful and get changed into this. I’ll get started on you in a moment.”

Once Cindy had left the room, she bowed her head apologising. 

“I’m guessing you’re not her biggest fan?” 

“Not a fan, period.” She sullenly snorted. “She’s a sanctimonious bitch who can’t keep her nose out of other peoples’ business.”

“She’s pretty at least.” You tried to see the best in people, despite how difficult they made it for you. 

“Well, that’s about all she has to offer. I’m Edie, by the way.”

And the rest was history. 

Similarly to the majority of the cast and crew, Edie was in Rafe’s grade. And when she discovered (during your break on Friday rehearsals) that you knew the infamous blonde personally, you did not hear the end of it.

“You’re friends with Rafe Cameron?” Her jaw fell open so quickly that you worried it would pop out of alignment. 

“Yeah, I mean we practically grew up together. I’ve spent half my life at his house.”

“You go to his house?! Holy fuck, you’ve been living my dream life like it’s nothing to you.”

“Trust me it’s not as good as you might think. He can be a real ass–”

“Hope you’re not talkin’ about me?” An arm suddenly snaked over your shoulder. The limb was heavy but warm– comforting –and emanated a pleasant aroma. Thomas let his hair hang loose today, long ebony strands pirouetting over the surface of your skin when you glanced up at him.

“Ah-ha not specifically, but I don’t know, maybe it applies to you too.”

In true theatrical style, he sputtered out a choking noise, clasping onto his chest to imitate immense pain. “Ouch. I think you just broke my heart.”

“Oh really? I didn’t realise Martians could feel pain.”

He gasped, and Edie chuckled at the interaction from beside you, shaking her head at your antics. “O-kay as cute as that was, can we please get back to the topic of Rafe.”

Thomas’s expression pinched in discomfort at the mention of the blonde and you recalled your last interaction with them both, inwardly cringing. “Does he have a problem with me or something? I feel like he does.”

“Wouldn’t be surprising. He’s always looking to have a problem with someone.”

“Seems to tolerate you though.”

“Barely,” He opened his mouth to respond but was beaten to it by a loud screech sounding out the syllables of his name. Cindy stood atop the stage, tapping her foot rhythmically against the solid wood with her arms crossed over her chest, not bothering to contain her lour. 

“Thomas!” her voice pierced across the auditorium again like one of those pesky drillers going off on a Sunday morning. “I want to go over the cues for this scene, c’mon.”

“Hey,” Edie halted him as he begrudgingly moved to acquiesce to her demand, “Just remember you have free will.”

“Well look how far that’s gotten me.” 

You weren’t sure what he meant by that, as though it were some cryptic message you’d been tasked to decode. He smiled, bidding you both goodbye with a simple wave and you paused for a moment, observing as he trudged away. 

Edie cleared her throat and you were snapped out of your daze, returning to the present only to realise– with much dismay –that your face had been donned with a damning grin. Her brow quirked and you knew what was coming. 

“What’s that look for?” 

“Something you wanna tell me?”

“Um… I don’t think so?” Your voice came out in a pathetic squeak and you cleared it, although the damage had already been done. 

“Oh come on,” She scoffed with an omniscient smirk, “You’re about as transparent as my gran’s panties…You like him.”

“Not you too.” You groaned, pivoting on your heels to take a seat in one of the rows of chairs furthest away from anyone else. If she wanted to have this conversation it was going to be out of earshot. Lest someone else managed to uncover your secret it would soon spread like wildfire. Her girlish giggle followed, and she saddled up beside you. 

“There’s no shame in it, babe. Tom’s a good guy, and you seem to get along…but–”

“But what?” 

Her expression soured, as though the words on the tip of her tongue were full of bile. “One thing you should know about Tom is that for many years, he had a thing for Cindy,” Her eyes rolled to the back of her head, “She rejected and rejected him, and eventually he moved on…but she didn’t like that. Not one bit. But now it seems the tables have turned. Did you know she fucking hates theatre?”

“Doesn’t seem that way to me.” You were prompted to glance up onto the stage where the two were currently rehearsing; she made it seem so effortless. How could she hate the things she was good at?

“Exactly. That’s why she’s so dangerous, she can keep up a good act.”

“I see…” This information shouldn’t have unsettled you. The past was set in stone for a reason and it was only possible for it to be resurfaced if you allowed it to. But it did unsettle you. Cindy possessed a classic kind of beauty you weren’t sure you could compete with. “So do you think if she were to ever bring it up, he would go for her again?”

“Hard to tell, with both of them. I’m pretty sure it’s just a game to her, she likes the attention. But as for Thomas, I think he’s beginning to see things clearer now.”

You tilted your head, unsure of what she meant by that.

“He’s not thinking with his dick.” She clarified bluntly, the crass wording making you gasp and then chuckle.

“Right. Good to know.”

Your phone vibrated from within your jeans pocket and you were surprised to see that it was Rafe calling you, considering you’d essentially gone with no contact for days. Assuming the worst, you excused yourself.

As you placed the phone to your ear you could only manage to make out a whooshing sound as though he were standing atop a viciously windy mountain. Then it stopped in tandem with what sounded to be like a string of expletives before he finally spoke.

“Yooo, what’s up? You coming?” Your brows furrowed at his elated tone. Last you’d checked, he was ignoring you. 

“Rafe, I already told you I can't–”

“Chill, it's fine. Got dumb and dumber to come over, keep me entertained”

“The fuck you just call us?” Topper and Kelce both shouted in unison somewhere in the background. Aside from their outburst, you couldn’t make out any other noise so you imagined they’d locked themselves away from all the action with Ward and his friends. Rafe detested hanging out with the oldies.

“OK, good. Saves me from feeling bad. But are you alright, you sound a bit…” Happy. The word you were grasping for was happy because you couldn’t remember the last time he’d sounded so carefree. 

“Better than ever!” 

“And are we ok?” 

“Yeahhh, you’re too cute to stay mad at for long.”

His response stifled you for a moment. “That’s real funny, Rafe.”

But in the coming days, something told you this may not be the case. 

Instead of avoiding you, Rafe wasn’t even showing up to school anymore. You were worried he was still clinging onto the remnants of his unjust anger until you received another phone call at 2:30 am, the night before your performance.

“Rafe…” You rubbed the sleep from your eyes, voice groggy and disoriented as you checked the glaring red lines on your digital clock. “What’s wrong? Do you even know what time it is?”

“Yeah, uh I’m sorry…” He sniffed. “I’m outside, can I come– ah actually y’know what just come out front, will you?” 

You paused. On any ordinary occasion, you’d have told him to piss off, too tired and frustrated to entertain his larks. But a stab of concern reared its ugly head at his shakey tone– this was very out of character.   

“Yeah, yeah of course. I’ll be out in a minute.”

It was a blisteringly cold night so you shrugged on a coat before trekking downstairs quietly, praying your parents weren’t lying awake to witness you sneaking out of the house in the wee hours. 

The front door scraped against the doormat as it opened. Rafe remained slumped against one of the white veranda pillars, motionless, as though he hadn’t heard you. His breaths were heavy, and upon assessing him you frowned at the fact that he was merely clad in a thin polo shirt and khaki shorts. 

“...Rafe?” You brushed your fingers gingerly across the wide expanse of his shoulders. He violently flinched, whipping around as though your touch was a burning affliction upon his supple skin. But his harsh reaction quickly softened when he saw it was just you.

 “Shit, don’t do that.”

“Sorry.” You whispered, dragging your eyes from his head down to his toes, assessing for any injuries. His unmarred skin left you stumped and it was only when you honed in on his frantic gaze did the issue finally dawned on you.

“Are you high?” 

Your question seemed to strike a nerve. He scrunched his face within his hands, as though he were in pain.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I-it’s like I’m seeing shit and hearing shit and my head hurts so fucking bad.” He was reacting badly. “And all I could think about was seeing you.”

“Did you fight with Ward?” This time he didn’t flinch as you grabbed onto his bicep, hoping to ground him. 

“Yeah, uh, yeah he’s just–”

“It’s alright, you don’t have to explain that right now. I’m here.” His burly arms engulfed you as he accepted your hug. You entangled yourself within his embrace, understanding that right now, all he desired was some comfort. 

“Thanks.” 

His voice was muffled by the position with his head stuffed into your shoulder. You gently tighten your hold in response, focusing on the rapid stuttering of his heartbeat which gradually slowed and levelled out into a calmer rhythm.    

What came next was like an inevitable chain of events: both of you pulled back at the same time and a frisson of confusion swept over you as he remained there, content with your noses practically intertwining. Although you weren’t confused. No. You were evading the truth. The truth that had become crystallised at this moment, glistening so bright you could hardly ignore it. 

One moment you were pinned to the spot by his sodden gaze, sporadically alternating between each region of your face. Mapping out each detail but notably lingering on your lips. Emotions raged within those viridian orbs like a violent coastal storm, threatening to destroy whatever stability you had left. 

Then, as though it were natural to him, he met you in the middle. 

You’d never experienced anything like it, and any story you’d been told was not comparable. His lips were firm and demanding in a way that surprised you and there was not a single trace of hesitation in his movement, as though he’d been waiting for this moment for a long time. 

Reality came crashing into you like a truck; you were kissing your best friend. The boy you bathed with as a child, who allowed you to snot into his sleeve as you wept and who vowed to protect you from the plight of men; It felt nice, but this sentiment was so heavily outweighed by the fact that it felt wrong. 

This revelation ignited your dormant reflexes. As he began to paw at your lower back, you realised this had gone too far. 

The rate at which you pushed him away stunned even you, and a wave of guilt ebbed through your system as his back collided with the pillar; you didn’t mean to be so harsh, after all, he was already in a vulnerable state. He remained crumpled in that position, fingers ghosting over his lips as if he were attempting to savour the taste of your own. 

“Shit, I-I’m always fucking up, I’m sorry,” He cupped your chin, the action causing you to jerk. “Sorry.” 

It unnerved how contrived his apology sounded, and you wondered if he could hear it too. 

“Uh-no no it’s ok,” Your body was frozen in a state of shock. “You're all over the place,” Surely he’d brush this off as a mistake by morning. “let's get you inside, yeah?”

His eyes glazed over your face once again, scrupulously this time, as though he were searching for something. He nodded when he didn’t find it, seemingly wanting to say more as he brushed the back of his neck but he chose to remain silent as you led him inside. 

It wasn’t unusual for you to share a bed; you’d done so numerous times in the past. But it felt different now, like an invitation you were reluctant to hand out. You wanted to be there for Rafe, but you couldn’t let him get confused.

So you lay there, keeping an appropriate amount of distance from the snoring blonde. If you acted normal, things would remain as they always had, right? Would it be swiped under the rug? Deep down you realised the implications of what had just occurred, and the potential for your…brief mistake to alter both of your futures. It was a classic tale, one you’d heard so many times (both in reality and fiction) it had burned deep into your psyche. A slow evolution between boy and girl, from friendship to beyond. But that didn’t mean you'd end like that, you repeated it over and over again like a mantra. 

You just couldn’t.

So you lay there, deciding to enjoy this peaceful moment. Naturally, your mind drifts over it all: the play, Thomas, and Rafe beside you. All share a common denominator– pumping your life full of both excitement and stress. 

But as the saying goes; all good things must come to an end. 

vi.

Rafe experienced what you liked to call a reverse metamorphosis during your senior year. 

Why reverse? Well, instead of transforming from a raggedy moth, expanding his wings to flourish as a butterfly, he took a drastic turn for the worse; as though he’d retreated into a slimy cocoon. 

Not that he’d ever been exceptionally well-behaved throughout his schooling years– busted for truancy more times than you could count, dabbling in all sorts of allusive substances among other nefarious things that you try not to dwell on –but as a recent graduate privileged with all the resources needed to pave a bright future, you had at least expected he’d try.

Unfortunately, things didn’t always pan out as you imagined they would. 

If he wasn’t drunk, or at least on the brink of it, then he was under the influence of some other powdery or herbal substance. Wasting his days away under the soft confinements of his bedding, recovering from late nights and remaining slumped against the toilet for the better half of his waking hours. Then he’d repeat the cycle, with absolutely no lessons learnt. 

Sometimes you’d receive a call. Incoherent slurs that reminded you of that fateful night months ago, where lines were blurred and boundaries crossed. His drunken words held no meaning, right? That’s what you would tell yourself, like a mantra, over and over until your mind believed what it heard the most. 

Nonetheless, you couldn’t spend your whole life worrying about Rafe. Not when you had other, more imperative issues at hand. 

Or… between your legs. 

The nonsensical droning emitted from the food network on your TV fell on deaf ears as you sat perched on Thomas's lap. The weight of your knees was supported by cherry sheets and pink frilly pillows as your lips moved against his at a languid pace. It was soft, sensual…tame, but at the same time exhilarating, and you trusted Thomas to guide you through it.

He let out a low groan as your fingers absentmindedly tugged on his shiny locks. Much to your dismay, he recently cut his hair shorter than it's ever been; his new look attracted attention from those who previously dismissed him, and this stoked the flames of unease within you.

You lowered your position, leaning impossibly closer until your chest brushed against the flimsy cotton of his t-shirt. A jolt of electricity transmitted up your spine as his hands found purchase on your lower back, traversing dangerously low, and a soft whimper floated from your chest.

But as you were still discovering, the art of intimacy was much more complex than you initially believed, and you hadn’t quite learnt how to toe the line.

Without thinking, your thumbs dipped into the waistline of his pants. Just barely tickling the surface, but enough to make Thomas jerk his head back, the hasty action subsequently halting your heated movements. 

 “What’re you doing?” His voice was outlandishly thick as his breaths came out in heavy puffs, scented in confusion. 

“I-i just thought…” You sat back, feeling suddenly unmoored. “Sorry, am I doing something wrong?”

“Of course not, just not right now, ok?” His deft fingers kneaded into your side, but their intended comforting effect did nothing to quell the pang of his rejection. 

“Sure.” You halfheartedly smiled, slipping off of his warm body to settle by his side. 

Had you been as stiff as a board this entire time? And why was your bedroom becoming increasingly suffocating? As though the walls unanimously decided to close in and focus every second of awkwardness into one concentrated area. 

“Wanna watch a movie?” Thomas eventually broke the heavy silence, refusing to broach the elephant in the room– which you were thankful for.

Clearing your throat, you rolled out of your bed, pulling on a pair of fuzzy socks. “Yeah, I’ll-uh get us something to eat. You choose the movie.”

Your relationship with Thomas had been smooth sailing…until it wasn't. 

As you busied yourself slicing up a platter of fruit in the kitchen, you couldn’t resist analysing each possibility as to why. Thomas was acting strangely. This wasn’t an assumption, and it couldn’t have been a coincidence that his change in demeanour always seemed to occur in your presence. So then what were you doing wrong? And why did he insist on keeping you in the dark?

Your train of thought came to an abrupt halt as you noticed an onslaught of notifications popping up on your phone. With an exasperated groan, you leaned over the bench to see who dared to disrupt your moment's peace.

Rafe. Could you get a break?

To: Princess Rafe 🙄👑  Piss off I’m busy.

You left it there, praying to any deity willing to lend you an ear that that would suffice. But clearly, you’d also managed to vex the higher beings, as his response was immediate:

From: Princess Rafe 🙄👑 I’m going 74 mph yet I take the time to talk to you 🖕

Yep. No break for you. 

To: Princess Rafe 🙄👑  ???? Dude get off your fucking phone. 

From: Princess Rafe 🙄👑 Since you asked so nicely.

And if his cavalier regard for the law wasn’t bad enough, his next message sent your jaw straight to the floor.

“Nope. Not dealing with this.” You shoved your phone into your pocket, ignoring the buzz of a new notification, both for your sanity and Rafe’s safety. 

When you returned to your room, Thomas had migrated to the carpet, perched atop a pile of decorative pillows you’d previously discarded onto the floor as he flicked through the pages of a familiar lavender spiral notebook. 

You gasped, the realisation of what he was rifling through and slapping you right across the face. 

“Oh, hey.” He smirked– that sick, condescending bastard!

“STOP!” You screeched, and his laughter verged on hysterical. “Put. That. Down.”

He swiftly dogged the stuffed animals you pelted in his direction, pouting derisively as you proceeded to storm towards him. “Aw, why would I do that? I was just getting to the part where you’ve described my scent. Lemon myrtle? That’s pretty specific, it’s actually musk–”

“Thomas.” Your tone acquired a sharp edge, but clearly, he hadn’t tortured you enough as he teasingly flicked to the newer entries.  

“Oh, and what’s this…” His posture went lax, abruptly pausing. His wide eyes darted in between the lines as though the words were a mirage he was reluctant to put his trust in. Then his lips pulled down into a small frown, and your stomach clenched. 

“What? Where the hell are you up to?” Your attempt to snatch at the book was fruitless as he kept it raised well above your reach. “Wha–”   

 “Alright, I’ve had enough of this game for one night. Let’s watch the movie.” You stumbled to catch the book as he carelessly discarded it, pivoting around you as he flopped back onto the bed.

“Okay…but don’t make a habit of breaching my privacy.” Your laugh was intended to lighten the mood, but it seemed to have the opposite effect. 

“Why, got something to hide?” He sullenly spoke, staring at the ceiling. Again, the inexplicable tension had wormed its back into your room. It was like a stubborn parasite that adapted to its surroundings, never completely disappearing. 

“Nothing too damning I’d imagine.”

The movie Thomas chose was a 20th-century romantic tragedy featuring many themes typical of that era such as misogyny and class which made your eyes roll. Your attention to the plot was continually hijacked as Rafe continued to flood your phone with messages, making it difficult to follow along with the plot. You’d been in the middle of responding to one of his many texts (complaining about how some guy at a party was getting on his nerves) when the movie suddenly paused.

“Mm, why'd you pause it?” You peeled your eyes from the screen to be met by Thomas’s blank ones.

“Can I ask you something? And I want you to just be honest with me, don’t tell me what I want to hear.”

“Uh, sure.” His quick transition into seriousness caught you by surprise, and your body tensed like a coiled spring. 

“Alright look, I hate to be this guy,” His face scrunched into a grimace as he glanced anywhere but your eyes. “But you’d tell me if there was someone else, wouldn’t you?”

“Someone else? What do you mean?”

He sighed, clearly frustrated. “Let me be more clear then. If you liked someone else, would you string me along…or would you break things off?”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing, now twisting your body to face him with a scoff. “Who do you think I am, Thomas? I was the one who asked you out, remember? That wasn’t on a whim, I did that because I liked you.”

“Liked?”

You groaned. Why was he making this so complicated?

 “Liked, like. What difference does it make? To me, this seems like you are trying to come to the conclusion you want to hear?”

“I’m not jumping to conclusions, just tryna test my hypothesis.”

“Okay, and what’s that?” Probing information out of him was like bribing a kid with vegetables; fucking tedious. 

“That you care about Rafe more than you’re letting on, maybe more than you even realise.”

“What?” You almost laughed in disbelief. Where was this even coming from? “He’s one of my best friends, wouldn’t it be more concerning if I didn’t care for him?”

“I never said you couldn’t care about him to a normal degree, but he may as well be in the room with us! It’s never just me and you, he’s always occupying your mind. Do you not stop to think about how that makes me feel?” 

He did have a point. Rafe was like a dog, constantly demanding your attention, and it had been that way since the day you met him. Still, you sat there in shock, realising he must’ve been bottling this up for some time now. 

“I didn’t mean- well alright if we’re suddenly being honest, half the time I’m with you it feels like you don’t even want me there.”

“What does that mean?” Now it was his turn to sound confused, offended even.

“You confuse me! One moment you’re all over me and the next you’re pushing me away as though I make your skin crawl.” 

He paused, contemplatively digesting your words before his pretty features twisted into an indignant scowl. “So does that excuse what you did? Because I don’t show you enough attention?”

“What did I do?” You were at your wit’s end.

“Oh stop pretending like you don’t know what I’m talking about. I saw it, written in your pretty fucking handwritten; you kissed him.”

Oh. Shit. Of all entries, it was that one he had to have read; which did not paint the clearest picture of that night. You got halfway through documenting what had happened before stopping right at the point when you realised it was wrong, no longer feeling in the mood to relive the moment…no wonder he was furious. 

“It’s not what you think.” You internally cursed yourself for how cliche that sounded. 

“No? Enlighten me then.” He sat up straight like a judge awaiting your testimony from a convicted criminal. 

“Rafe has issues…okay. Stuff at home, and he’s never known how to cope on his own–”

“Oh right, so that’s where you come into play. Are your lips like some magical cure for interpersonal issues?” He queried cynically. 

“Would you shut up and listen!” This time, he reared back at your outburst, “That night he was really out of it. I’m talking delirious, like some rabid dog. He kissed me, not the other way round, and I stopped it because it didn't feel right… and because I liked you.”

You could see the cogs churning in Thomas's mind as he absorbed your words, taking the time to process each one. With a gentle gaze, he met your eyes, his expression softening into an apologetic smile.

 “I see. This all happened before we got together?” 

“Yes, of course it was before. I would never do something like that to you,” His drop in hostility spurred you to lean forward, dragging his warm limbs into your embrace, “I promise.” 

Surely this would be the end of it. It had to be. Everything was out in the open, and miscommunications cleared. But when you pulled back, his guilty grimace told you otherwise. 

“There’s something else I have to tell you.”

vii.

Ring. 

Ring. 

Ring. 

Ring. 

Another fervid sob was ripped from your maw. You burned from within, rife with malice clawing up your raw oesophagus till it was raw and prying through your lips in ugly bated breaths. You allowed a moment to pass before trying again. 

Ring. 

Ring. 

Ring. 

…

“You ignore my fuckin’ texts and now you wanna talk.”

“Rafe,” Your cracked voice butchered the syllables of his name, sounding almost unrecognisable. Pathetic. “Can I see you?”

Not even 10 seconds later a notification appeared on your phone. He’d shared his location, some vaguely familiar residence on the outskirts of your neighbourhood. 

“What–”

“I’ll see you soon.”

Being vulnerable wasn’t your forte, nor was it Rafe’s, and there was no doubt he was currently perplexed by your sudden change of heart. But tonight, you needed someone. And that’s how you found yourself stepping into a stranger's house at 12:45 am, scouring the misty rooms in search of a familiar burly figure. 

A low whistle piqued your attention. Topper emerged from the kitchen as you were passing by, two red solo cups in his possession. “Didn’t expect to see you here, not that I’m complaining.”

His eyes quickly swept over your frame, the respectful gentleman he was. You couldn’t contain your scoff. Even in black track pants and a muted pink top… guys really could be attracted to anything as long as it walked on two hind legs. 

“Bit cliche, don’t you think, Top.” You retorted with a halfhearted snort, gesturing to the cups. What was this, a freshman's first house party?

He rolled his eyes, extending one to you. The nefarious liquid sloshed over the rim and you shook your head. “Uh, no I’m good, thanks.”

He fixed you with a pointed look. “It looks like you could use it.”

With a huff, you snatched the cup from him, to which he chuckled. “I hate how you’re always right.”

He began to ferry you toward Kelce and their gaggle of friends who huddled around a small coffee table in the living room, passing a clumsily rolled joint between them. When Kelce’s wide-set brown eyes landed on you, he abruptly stood, knocking the table's contents in doing so as he manhandled you into his side. 

“How’s my favourite girl doing?”

He balanced the joint between two fingers, residual smoke clung to his body in a damp sheen. Your eyes watered as you suppressed a cough, “Fine, until I caught a whiff of you.”

“C’mon, nothing takes the edge off like a good toke.” He waved it in front of your face, an offer, snorting as your face contorted into a grimace. 

“As great as that sounds,” You pushed his arm off its perch on your shoulder with a bitter smile. “Is Rafe here?”

“Yeah, pretty sure he went upstairs.” His hand absentmindedly flicked toward the staircase and you quickly excused yourself before they could become too attached to your presence.

The ambience upstairs was much more quaint than below, mainly consisting of couples who split off from their respective groups. A few were making out, some others collapsed asleep on the furnished floorboards; typical party antics reminding you as to why you generally avoided these places. 

The walk from your house had cooled your system, remedying your flighty instincts ever so slightly. This you were thankful for, as upon opening the final door along the lengthy hallway, you were met with Rafe’s determined gaze, and you knew he would demand answers.

“Been messaging you.” The mattress creaked as he lifted his weight off its surface. His gait was straight and steady, and this was perhaps the closest to sober you’d seen him in a long time.

“I know, I just wanted to see you in person.” Despite your best efforts, the burning of your eyes became so overbearing and you fought to hold back the overwhelming emotions coursing through your veins. It was like the moment someone asks if you're okay when it's obvious you're not, the floodgates open and emotions come crashing down around you in an unrelenting wave.

“Hey hey hey, what the fuck happened to you?” He rushed over, forcing you to face him with a firm grip on your shoulders. 

“It doesn’t matter.” 

“The fuck it does,” His hands rubbed over his face exasperatedly as though he were controlling the urge to be rougher with you and extract an answer forcefully. “You can’t call me all hysterically crying and shit then give me nothing. Did someone hurt you? Did Thomas do something?”

The mere mention of his name sent you spiralling even further. “Alright, come on, sit down.” Rafe didn’t give you much of an option, dragging you to the bed in an iron grip and then forcing you onto the black sheets as he sat beside you. 

“What happened?” 

“It’s Thomas.” You affirmed solemnly. 

 “I’ll kill him.” He seethed through his teeth and your head violently shook. 

“No, no I won’t tell you if that’s how you’re gonna respond.” He went to ark up but you interrupted him before he had the chance. “Rafe, I'm serious.”

“I’ll decide for myself once you tell me.”

With a heavy sigh, you finally conceded. “Do you remember that one girl from my theatre club? The diva one?”

“Who?” 

“Cindy! Blonde hair, beautiful. She was in your year level.”

Rafe’s brows furrowed in confusion. “I seriously don’t know who the fuck that is.”

“Whatever, it doesn’t matter. Anyway, before me and Thomas started…dating, I found out he had a thing for her for quite some time.”

“So?”

“Jesus- just let me finish!” He reluctantly relented, nodding for you to continue. “Since you’re so impatient, I’ll tell you the short version: Thomas stopped liking her then me and him started dating. He thought we had something going on secretly and confided in Cindy…then he used that to justify sleeping with her.”

The silence that followed was like dust settling back onto the road; static but still very much disturbed. 

“What.” 

“There’s nothing else to say.” You croaked, dabbing your sodden eyes on your sleeve.

Not a moment later he shot up, pacing back and forth a few times before submitting to the battle raging in his head and storming toward the door. “Rafe, no you promised me–”

“I didn’t promise you shit!” He whipped back around to face you, face wild with fury. “That motherfucker is gonna get what’s coming for him!”

“RAFE.” His cheeks were ablaze as you cupped them in your hands, eyes darting around sporadically as though he were high on adrenaline. “Please, I need you right now. What happens next is for another time. Let it rest.”

His nostrils flared as he finally met your eyes. You pulled him closer, sensing your words were having an effect, softly whispering another plea– and it was like deja vu when his lips met yours for the second time. Only it wasn’t. As he pressed himself firmly against you, unyielding in his advance, you realised this was truly happening again… and to your horror, it felt nice. 

In fact, you didn’t want it to stop. 

In the time you’d been together with…Thomas…the intimate experiences you shared allowed you to act with heightened confidence, no longer feeling the need to skittishly paw at his chest like a bunny caught by the big bad wolf. Now you moved with your own validity, placing your hands upon his taut chest and following the pace he set. 

His palm suddenly clamped down on your ass and you gasped into his mouth, surprised. Thomas was a respectful lover, never so daring, but Rafe’s impulsivity stirred a concoction of excitement and nervousness within your belly. 

He took this window of opportunity to dip the tip of his tongue into your mouth. Testing the waters at first, and when you showed no signs of disapproval, delving full throttle. “Shit,” He groaned, using his grip on your lower half as leverage to guide you backwards. 

Your libidinous scrambled brain only registered his intention when the backs of your knees came into contact with the bed, instigating your loss of balance. A pathetic squeak floated from your throat as you fell onto the soft confinements of whoever's sheets these were. 

Rafe didn’t hesitate to slot himself between your parted knees, crawling over your limp body like a predator readying itself to ravage a meal. His head dipped into the crevice of your neck, planting strategically placed kisses and sucking on the tender flesh, subsequently sowing the seeds of your growing excitement. 

But as he remained in that position– feverish palms exploring your clothed body, hot enough to burn through the fabric –your heart began to race. Why did you feel a shudder of anticipation run down your spine? What if he were to stop and really look at you? Why were you scared?

It wasn't until he gained the confidence to explore the curve of your body beneath the fabric that you jolted back into reality, your heart racing and breath catching in your throat.

“Wait!” He peeled himself off of you with an expectant look, blown pupils peeved by your interruption. “I’ve, uh-... never done this before.”

You whispered it, timorously, ashamed even. 

You were expecting rejection, after all, that was the only response you ever received from Thomas. What you weren’t expecting, however, was his lips to twitch up in a haughty smirk, his desire for you not faltering whatsoever. You would even go as far as to say that the gleam that appeared in his eyes indicated that he found this revelation rather pleasing. 

“You trust me?” 

Your nod was automatic like a reflex, saving you from mulling over the question too deeply. In response he sat back on his thighs, swatting away your hands which had fallen to your stomach (perhaps subconsciously attempting to create a separation between the two of you) allowing him to slide your loose shirt above your navel and then over your chest, the material bunching around your neck. He marvelled at the exposed skin, tentatively brushing over your stomach causing you to squirm at the new sensation. 

“Then lay back and relax, sweetheart.” 

From then on, the sequence of events was a blur; a tangle of limbs and a symphony of noises all coming together to form an incoherent memory. 

Your shirt was the first to come off, followed shortly by his. Rafe’s bare chest was nothing you hadn’t seen before, but in this context, your vision was obscured by a rose tint. His sculpted biceps flexed as he worked on tugging your pants down and you couldn’t help but notice the way he tucked his lower lip between his teeth in concentration or the dewy sheen covering his skin. 

It was akin to looking into a kaleidoscope for the first time and not knowing where to cast your gaze.

“If he thinks he can hurt you like this,” His firm lips danced across your throat.“Then he’s got another thing coming.” 

He spoke in a harsh growl, hooking his fingers beneath the straps of your bra and dragging them down in one sweeping motion. 

You squeaked in shock, heat blossoming beneath your cheeks at the abrupt exposure of your tits. Your tingling nipples quickly began to harden, and you weren’t sure if this was due to the draft slipping through the slightly ajar window or the firm attention Rafe was paying to your flesh. 

Nonetheless, your arms instinctively twitched upwards, preparing to cover yourself from his prying eyes. He anticipated this, however, promptly collecting your wrists and pinning them beside your head. 

“Don’t, don’t do that.” His voice exploded into a vehement tone. “I don’t even remember who that bitch is, let alone what she looks like…think that’s saying something.” 

Before your short-circuiting brain could formulate a response, his lips descended upon your chest, laving at one of the sensitive buds before sucking on it harshly. Your body reacted viscerally, flailing at the newfound stimulation. You mewled, squirming, as he pulled away with a breathless chuckle.

“See what a girl like you does to a man.” He forced one of your hands down to his boxers. Your eyes widened as you felt how hard he was, and you let out a soft gasp as he throbbed around your palm.

“Feel that? Yeah, that’s all you baby.”

“Rafe, ple–” Your breath hitched as his knee drove forward, the delicious pressure nudging into your clothed core. 

“Go on, I want to hear you say it.” 

“Please…”

“Already speechless? That’s cute.” His words had you shrinking in on yourself, trying to flee from the heat radiating off his body. “It’s alright, I know what you need.”

While your racing thoughts kept you occupied (as well as demanding lips), you were oblivious to the fact that Rafe had removed his knee from between your legs, opting to slink his deft fingers inside the flimsy cotton of your underwear. That was, of course, until you felt something foreign swiping against your most sensitive area, teasingly prodding at the tight entrance. You flinched, shuddering beneath the unfamiliarity of his touch.

“I’m gonna fuck you now, is that okay?”

Your head bobbed up and down ardently, voice tiny and breathless and he grinned. “Ok.”

“Okay then.” 

Your body fell in and out of consciousness, wrecked from a night filled with both pleasure and anguish. When you finally woke up, it was well into the night. The heavy breaths falling onto you from behind drowned out the eerie silence of the house. A gust of wind howled through the night sky, and your naked form shivered as the cold managed to slither beneath the sheets.

Rafe’s arm laid heavy across your waist. Anchoring you down as though— even in sleep —he was paranoid you’d slip away. You carefully lifted his arm, halting as his breathing accelerated before replacing your warmth with a pillow.

The first step went surprisingly smoothly… but that must’ve been a fluke as what came next was nearly debilitating. 

An aching pang shot up between your legs, sharp and sudden. You gasped, clutching onto the bed frame for support. The sensation wasn’t extremely painful, rather unpleasant and even worse it acted as a punishing reminder of the choices you’d made tonight. 

What you just did.  

Fumbling around the floor on all fours was equally deplorable and you now understood what others meant when they described the after-fact as a ‘walk of shame.’ 

You eventually located your pants, desperately patting them down to find your phone. The screen flashed on when you pulled it out of the pocket and you hissed as the harsh light penetrated your retinas, a dull throb settling between your eyes.

There was a flurry of texts from Thomas. Apologies, explanations, and pleas for a response. He’d left your house without much resistance earlier in the evening as you cried for him to do so, but it seemed he wasn’t giving up on you so easily. 

Your heart clenched painfully, and it was as though all of the synapses in your brain fired at once; What have you done?

A pool of saliva formed within your mouth, stomach suddenly churned. You stumbled across the floor, making a beeline for the ensuite as your throat heaved. In a matter of seconds after collapsing on the floor before the toilet, you were vomiting into the bowl. Violent hurls that only subsided once you were completely empty. 

Could you be any more putrid? 

The facet rasped as you turned it, a steady flow of water filling the bathtub as you rinsed out the vile taste in your mouth. It was bitingly cold as you slowly lowered each aching limb into the water, sighing in relief as your body acclimatised and began to relax. 

When you were on the cusp of sleep once again, you started cleaning yourself. Scrubbing your skin raw with soapy suds until the water turned a sickening pink and you felt sick for the second time that night. 

You dipped below the water and watched as bubbles rose to the surface.

viii.

Everything was becoming surreal. 

In half an hour your given moniker would be permanently altered. It was the ‘essence of your identity’ your mother would say, but you’d never been particularly sentimental about it. This likely stemmed from your childhood, as in the mind of a little girl, it was only a means to an end. You used to long for a prince mounted upon a dark stallion to come and sweep you off your feet with promises of a perfect future; all that was required in exchange was a simple change of your name. 

Of course, reality hit like a truck when you learnt that there weren’t enough princes around for each little girl in the world. But still, perhaps your expectations had been too high. 

Mrs. Hughes.

Mrs. Hughes.

Mrs. Hughes. 

There was a certain ring to it that you couldn’t quite pinpoint, similar to when you found a puzzle piece that looks right, but it isn’t the exact fit.   

After kicking everyone out of the room, you’d spent the last fifteen minutes distracting yourself by mulling over your appearance. The seamstress did everything she could to preserve the original cut of the dress but was ultimately forced to make it backless due to the inflexible time constraint.

Despite the reassuring gushes you’d received from the bridesmaids, you couldn’t help but feel exposed. The material that once clung taut against your curves now flowed freely in all its feathered glory, displaying the tender expanse of your back to all those who cared to witness. 

A firm knock reverberated off the oak door and your lips pinched down in a small frown; you’d been explicit in your desire to be alone.

You cracked the door ajar, bewildered to be met with the familiar blue orbs of the eldest Cameron upon peeking out into the hallway. His pale blue suit was neatly pressed and tailored to his body, a black bow tie complimenting the look, making him appear youthful.

“...What are you doing?” You whispered incredulously, glancing to each side of the empty corridor.

He flashed you a grin, holding up a long-neck bottle with a pretty red ribbon wrapped around it like a noose. “Wanted to say my congratulations. I’m guessing you’ll be a bit tied up later on.”

“You’re not supposed to be here,” His head tilted to the left in confusion and you sighed, “It’s bad luck.”

He hummed, smirk grew patronising as he deadpanned; “I thought that rule only applied to the groom?” 

“Is this for me?” You chose to ignore his previous remark, gesturing to the bottle he still held in his possession. 

“Yeah. Rose wanted to give it to you herself but she was more than happy to let me do so when I offered.” You knew what he was hinting at; she missed having you around to keep her stepson in line. You didn’t know why you were surprised, it was in the Cameron's DNA to stoop to sly tactics.

"Mind if I come in?" Your reluctance must’ve been evident by your unwavering grip on the door. He rolled his eyes, voice now tinged with a touch of condescension. "C’mon. One last hurrah, that’s all I ask for."

What can five minutes hurt? Then hopefully he’ll leave you alone for the rest of the night. “Alright, fine, but make it quick.” 

You clicked the door shut, aimlessly lingering by the window as he lined up two of the clean champagne glasses left over from the earlier celebrations. The side seams of his suit tapered around his shoulders, extenuating the strain of his muscles and they rippled beneath the fabric. You averted your gaze, choosing to fix it on a lone swan floating out on the lake instead. 

“Thought I should say,” He turned to face you as he removed the cork with surprising ease, the stopper not even popping as it was released. “You look beautiful.” 

You snorted, brushing over a crease in the thick curtain. “That’s just custom speaking.”

He seemed genuinely miffed by your comment, mouth hanging open with a small huff. “That right there is proof that no one takes me seriously, I mean it.”

“Well thanks, I appreciate it. I did end up fitting into the dress so, guess I proved you wrong.”

His brows furrowed as the cardinal liquid poured into the glass. “Don’t tell me you took that to heart? I was just fuckin’ with you.”

“Yeahhhh, I know.”

He brought the two glasses over by the stem, passing the one which was filled exceptionally fuller to you. 

“Going easy?” 

“Designated driver.” He affirmed, leaning against the opposite side of the window frame. 

Your mouth opened, a soft ‘ah’ flicking off your tongue. “I must say I’m surprised and impressed.”

With a humoured scoff, his eyes rolled to the back of his head. “Alright, it’s your special day, what are we toasting to?”

You stilled for a moment, scouring your mind for something appropriate to say. When it came to you, you grinned: “May you be in heaven a full half-hour before the devil knows you’re dead.”

He hummed in approval before extending his arm to meet your glass somewhere in the middle.

“Cheers to that.” You said in unison, falling silent as you downed the entirety of your drink– it was your day after all, so fuck it, you were going to need some liquid courage to make it through the coming hours. 

The drink was shockingly sweet, oozing down your throat like a hot teaspoon of honey and you grimaced. “What is this?” 

Rafe shrugged, placing his untouched glass down. “Some guy who distils it himself. Disgusting, right?”

“That’s an understatement.”           

Words died in the air between you, lost and forgotten as a thick silence surrounded you both. The energy within the room grew dense, tensions steadily simmering and only increasing in intensity. You squirmed in your position, noticing as Rafe grew fidgety; something was dancing on the tip of his tongue, ready to be released. 

“Remember when I told you that your mum was worried ‘bout you?”

“...Yeah.” How could you forget, his drunken induced admission which soon followed still haunted your psyche. 

“Was-uh…was any of that true about you acting strangely?”

“Your timing is truly impeccable.” Any of the previous lightness was sponged from your tone, replaced by defensive shrill which was painful to your own ears. 

“I’m just sayin’, it’s good to get this shit out in the open before everything is finalised, don’t you think?” He began to gesticulate with his hands, flapping motions which were distracting. 

“There’s nothing to ‘get out.’ I’ve had my doubts, but that’s normal. My mind is clear now.” You stated firmly, struggling to believe that he would have the audacity to question your decision just as it was about to come to fruition. 

“Is it?” His words carried a soft almost sympathetic note, as though you were a child and he was trying not to upset you. 

“Is it what?” 

“Is it normal to have doubts? I mean that reaction before didn’t seem very convincing to me.”He let his breath out in a soft sigh as your gaze remained defensive, backed into a corner like pitiful prey. “You see what this is telling me? That you don’t know how to make a decision that’s good for you.”

Your head was reeling, throbbing as the lights intensified, the artificial brightness causing you to squint. You were struggling to think, let alone formulate a sentence. All you could conjure up was a childish response: “Shut up, shut up.”

The room tilted as you abruptly stood, staggering forward like a limp doll. You were on a rollercoaster, extremities weighed down by the impressive force of gravity. Rafe caught you before you could collapse, supporting your nape against his chest. Confusion ebbed through your veins as you clung to him, a delicate whimper falling from your lips.

“Steady now.”

“Wha…” Your heart thumped realising how slurred your speech had become. 

His hand drummed along the exposed skin, shushing your protests. “It's okay,” a soft and hungry whisper. He drew the zipper down. An expanse of naked, supple skin awaited. A fresh carcass, ready for the taking. 

“I'm prepared to make that decision for you.”

#dark rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #obx fanfiction #obx x reader #rafe cameron #dark obx #yandere rafe cameron #Rafe Cameron fanfiction #Rafe Cameron smut #dark!rafe Cameron x reader #dark!rafe cameron #dark! rafe cameron #dark fic #outer banks x reader #outer banks fic #obx fic #outer banks rafe #obx smut #obx season 4 #rafe cameron imagine #otwtas

[mechaknight-98]

Game Face (NSFW) FT Hyeju

Author’s note: something different and kinda gross.

“Picture this: it's the final round of Core-A’s Tatsunoko VS Capcom blast from the past tournament and you are facing off against a new challenger whose gamer tag is Mothra. The set is tied between you and her. She's been wrecking your team of Frank West and Tekkaman so to throw her for a curveball you go Polymer and Morrigan. Hyeju is confused “No one plays Polymer,” she says perplexed at your choice

You respond with, “Well I do!” and trounce her in a flawless victory winning a Wii a copy of the game, and 4 “classic controllers””

“Yah Daizo why don't you go bother someone else,” Hyeju says to me as I recount the story to James, Haseul, Arin, Jinsoo, and Nagyung. I shrug and sit down

I smiled as I sat down next to Arin she nestled in close to my neck as I shot my gaze towards her and she looked up at me her bespeckled eyes gleaming leaving my head dazzled.

“Yah I don't know why you're so cocky you came in third,” Hyeju rolls her eyes as she declares,

I look at her with narrow eyes before re-establishing, “Yeah because I only lost to Bon-wa. I beat everyone else I played against, and I would have beat you.” you laugh as despite my boisterous and arrogant antics I often “walked the walk” I put in way more hours into the game then you did and lobbed way more characters than you but yeah you beat me because you are the better player but you wouldn't have beaten Hyeju if weren't for me because I taught you how to play polymer, and suggested Morrigan as a pocket team to mess with high tier play because you can't accurately predict his next move.

“Oh come on Bon-wa beat you in 3 with one flawless win.”

Knowing I was about to dismantle her entire playstyle and give accurate ways to demolish her you defended me, “Sorry Hye but Daizo would level you. I only beat him because I know how he approaches the game and his patterns,”

Hyeju laughed “Please, and like I couldn't we all play together every Thursday, and he always comes in under us,” you and I look at each other at this point and I decide to point out what we both know,

I raise an eyebrow before striking the killing blow, “Um, Hyeju what two characters are my mains in TVC?”

Hyeju shrugs, “Um Karas and Chun Li?”

I look to you and you break the news to your girlfriend,

“Hye he hates playing Chun Li and Karas. He only does it to you because I ask him to,”

Hyeju was flabbergasted “Why” she asked.

You know you have to break it to her carefully.“Well did you see his last match?”

Hyeju shook her head“No, all I heard from that was screaming while I got us lunch.”

You sigh and respond, “Babe he zero to deathed his opponent after reading their first assist correctly, and he only started playing Joe the Condor today.”

Hyeju looked at you then me confused as did the rest of the group.

“You just learned Joe today,” she inquired while being struck with bewilderment. I nod which causes James to ask me a very legitimate question.

“Wait why risk that at a paid tournament?”

I shrugged before answering with, “Because as soon as was in the same bracket side as Bon I was getting third place no matter what, so why not see how far I could push my limits?”

Hyeju looked at me with disgust, “How arrogant of you to think you can just waltz in a win a tournament on whim picks,”

I laughed and responded, “Hyeju we had to give you an advanced tech crash course when you told us you wanted to participate on a whim, despite only playing occasionally with us. I don't want to hear about me doing anything competition-wise on a whim. I am always competition-ready.” this made Hyeju go quiet. Arin bless her heart sensed the tension in my heart and grabbed my hand. Her touch as always was a soothing wave cooling off the plasmidic heat that I felt. It worked until Hyeju feeling her ego hurt said

“Okay, then Daizo if you're so great how about a friendly exhibition match?” I heard Arin’s sigh and knew that either I or Hyeju was going to revive a lecture later but honestly, she already blooded the water by doubting me and further pushed me with an official challenge. So when we got to y’all place I was nearly delirious with anticipation.

I beat Hyeju 25-1. We could have stopped at 13-0 but the part of me that y'all don't like demanded I beat her more. Thankfully before I could make Hyeju cry Arin and you stopped me.

“Okay, Disaster that's enough. You have proved your supremacy and I don't think Hye can take anymore,” Your sad tone reaches me and I come out of that dark place. Arin and I go back to our shared apartment leaving you to comfort the almost in-tears and shocked Hyeju on your shared couch. You cuddle next to your girlfriend who's a little grumpy that I beat her,

“I can't believe Daizo’s so mean,” she said with an adorable pout you smile and nestle closer.

“Come on babe you went after him and he responded. Be glad we stopped it before you went 1-29,” you say

Hyeju is just revving up though, “It's just…(you shut her up with an impassioned kiss) uh babe no fair.”

You roll deeper into your make-out session with your bombshell of a girlfriend. When you break it, her wolf-like eyes are full of lust. You smile as she lifts her shirt revealing her bountiful bust. You grope her tits as the two and make out

“Oh,” she moans as an errant hand of hers wanders down to your crotch. When she finds her prize you gasp.

“Fuck Hye warn a guy,” you say but Hyeju smiles before stroking you a little bit and falling into another kiss.

“But jagiya I'm so wet for you,” Hyeju says before lining up with your ride and sliding tortuously down your rod. You groaned at her unrelenting tightness. Her folds envelop you as Hyeju moans,

Hyenu smiles as she takes you in, “God I love your massive cock. I could ride it all day,” she says with a selfish smile. She pushes your chest down as she begins to ride you roughly, her folds tearing into your cock like the rabid predator(your words not mine) she was. She looks down at her favorite prey. You. She smiles and then begins her ritual whenever she's on top.

“You love my wolfy pussy don't you Jagiya? The way my flesh craves you. The way my pussy molds itself to your cock. How I ride you till you can't help but cum in my perfect pussy. Come on baby cum for me! I need it right now.” Hyeju’s sultry sex voice always does a number on you and in combination with her pussy when she calls you her “large lion” you cum instantly as she has trained your dick to do so. You moan as cum fills her walls and Hyeju smiles, but she isn't done though. She gets up off of you and her pussy spills your load back onto your crotch. You groan getting ready to get up until Hyeju lies in front of you and begins to use her chest to get another load out of you.

“Why waste all this perfectly good cum,” she says as she wraps her tits around your cock. You scream at the pleasure emanating from your union. Hyeju howls as she continues to rub her lubricated breasts around your cock. Her sensitive tits cause her to be near her release.

“Go on make a mess of me Lionheart. Cum all over my slutty face. paint me! Come on do it. Please cum,” Hyeju yells as she eggs on your orgasm hoping to get hers from being covered in your cum. To coax the biggest load possible she wraps her tongue around your cock as she gives you her messiest tit/blowjob. She slobbers all over your cock watching you squirm and write until

“Hye Im cumming,” you moan as you erupt over her face like a volcano. Your cum flies everywhere on her: her face tits hair lips you name it it's there. Hyeju smiles before standing up and fingering herself to get herself off having gotten her cum kink satisfaction. As your cum rolls down her body and she touches herself to the mess she's made of you and herself she squirts all over you. You lap up what you can and let lay down next to you. A messy (and wet) picture-perfect scene

“You good now babe,” you ask. Hyeju nods and languidly strokes your cock, not to get you off but just because like toying with you.

“I needed that,” she says before kissing you. Her cum drenched lips are oddly pleasant.

“Fuck Hye you put your game face on,” you tease and Hyeju rolls her eyes before you give her another unexpected load.

#kpop fanfic #fanfic #male reader #loona hyeju #olivia hye smut #hyeju smut #son hyeju #olivia hye #loosemble #loosemble hyeju #loosemble smut

[projectionistwrites]

FOR SCIENCE | SUBJECT 2

In which the Moon Knight alter system presents a unique opportunity to settle the nature versus nurture debate, once and for all...

Marc Spector x afab!psychologist!reader (11.0k+)

RATING: EXPLICIT (18+, mdni) WARNINGS: fetishization of mental disorders (DID), psychoanalysis, potentially unethical scientific practices, SMUT (dom/sub dynamics, fingering, oral (f! and m!receiving), unprotected p in v sex, squirting, creampie, bondage, intense edging, reader is very mean, facesitting/riding, 69ing, praise kink, dirty talk, use of the stoplight system) NOTES: time for everyone’s favorite babygirl. again, i really hope i did marc’s character justice. also, you can’t tell me marc wouldn’t look so pretty crying for you. i kinda went feral on this one. &lt;3 DISCLAIMER: although i’m incredibly knowledgeable about psychology, i am NOT a professional. all psychoanalyses made throughout the course of this storyline are entirely my own, based on my own interpretations of the characters. in a similar vein, i am also not an expert on DID specifically (although i am well-read on mental disorders and diagnoses), so i apologize for any incorrect terminology or misrepresentation. don’t hesitate to call me out if i say something wrong!

← previous part | next part →

CASE STUDY: MARC SPECTOR

ROLE IN COGNITIVE SYSTEM: Host / Apparently Normal Part

ATTACHMENT STYLE: Fearful

CHARACTERISTICS: cocksure, standoffish, pensive, calculating; resilient to a fault; views himself as irredeemable in the face of his past, unworthy of forgiveness or compassion; must be in control of every situation in order to feel secure.

SPLIT FROM HOST: N/A

TRAUMA RESPONSE: tendency to run when facing emotionally distressing situations

SEXUAL PRESENTATION: dominant, assertive, deliberate, practiced, indulgent; derives majority of satisfaction from his ability to draw pleasure from his partner; cognitive blockages that are reminiscent of self-sabotage (undeserving of release or pleasure).

“You’re early, Doc.”

Marc teased—he was leaning against the doorframe with a smug smirk on his face, successfully blocking your entrance into his flat. You felt your face heat up beneath his devious gaze.

“I know.”

Your words were softer than you’d intended them to be, more hesitant—Marc’s eyes narrowed at your wavery response.

He wordlessly stepped to the side, allowing you to finally slip past him and into the threshold of the apartment. You paused in the entrance as the door clicked shut behind Marc. He narrowly avoided colliding into your form as he turned, his arms jutting out to brace himself against you to prevent either of you from stumbling. His hands gripped your biceps, his chest pressed against your back. Your body tensed under his touch, and he let out a low chuckle, slipping past you and further into the space.

“Jesus, you’re touchy today. Everything okay?”

He leaned back against the kitchen counter, his arms crossed over his chest as he studied you. The movement was so easy, so casual and relaxed, as if this was just like any other time you’d hung out at his place—as if you weren’t there just to get into his pants. You felt a blush rise to your cheeks as you glanced down at your worn sneakers. It felt...different, this time. With Steven, you knew there would be a learning curve for both of you. You knew that, to some extent, you would be the one calling the shots, making Steven feel safe and comfortable. But now...you were intimidated. And ashamed to admit it.

You must’ve been quiet a beat too long, because the next second, Marc was in front of you, standing toe-to-toe. When you didn’t meet his eyes, his left hand came to nudge your chin upward, forcing your gaze upon him. You gulped, but his dark eyes were softened with concern.

“Hey. You gotta talk to me, Y/N. What’s on your mind?”

You blew out a breath.

“No, it’s nothing, I’m just—”

“—nervous?”

Marc finished for you, and you squeezed your eyes shut in an effort to prevent yourself from seeing the satisfied look on his perfect face.

“Yes, Marc, laugh it up. I’m nervous.”

“Hey, I didn’t even—”

“Yeah, but you were gonna.”

You snapped with a glare, but you felt guilt punch through your gut when a look of hurt crested Marc's features. You sighed.

“Shit, Marc, I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

“I am, too, you know.”

You blinked once, then twice.

“You’re...what?”

He rolled his eyes, huffing out a bitter, humorless laugh, as if he thought you were toying with him. When he saw the genuine confusion on your face, he threw his head back with a groan.

“You’re really gonna make me say it, huh?”

Your eyes narrowed, but when you finally realized what he meant, you felt a small smile creep onto your face.

“Wait—you’re nervous?”

Marc shrugged sheepishly, and you could see a bit of color rise to his cheeks—was he blushing?

“You’re telling me—Marc Spector is nervous?”

“Yeah, and who’s laughing it up, now?”

He quirked a brow, giving you an accusatory look, and you giggled at him, the tension melting away from your body easily.

“I’m not laughing at you, Marc, I’m just—why would you be nervous? Especially around me?”

He shook his head at you incredulously, taking a few steps closer. You felt your back press up against the door behind you, successfully trapping you in Marc's vicinity.

“S’that so hard to believe? A pretty girl like you, coming over to study how I am in bed—even if it’s just for science?”

Marc wiggled his brows theatrically, and you laughed again, shaking your head. Still, there was blood pumping loud in your ears as he spoke, and you could feel electricity crackle in the air between you, charged with energy.

“Yeah, for science. But—you have pretty girls over all the time to see how you are in bed.”

“Yeah, but s’never been you, has it?”

The words were barely audible, muttered lowly beneath his breath, but you felt your jaw slacken at his quiet confession. Your eyes flitted up to his, and there was that cheeky, self-satisfied grin on his face again—fuck, he was too handsome, you just wanted to—

“Can I just fuckin’ kiss you, already?”

He was close, now, his warm exhales mingling with your own. His brown eyes glittered onyx as he drank you in, lips parted just slightly, the tip of his nose barely brushing your own. You felt faint, the proximity dizzying as temptation sank its teeth into your flesh. With the faintest nod of your head, Marc took the plunge.

You’d never had a kiss quite like this one before. Of course, Steven’s was great, but it was exactly what you’d expected—a desperate clash of teeth and tongue, the two of you battling your insecurities to fall into a steady rhythm. But this—this was fucking special. Marc’s hand slipped behind your head to thread through your hair, his other arm looping around your waist to pull you flush against him. You were frankly surprised at the tenderness with which his lips found yours, starting with a barely-there brush of his mouth. It was sweet, and raw, intimate, and you felt his lashes flutter against your cheek when he pulled away too soon.

You were breathless, your face following his as he drew back, desperate to maintain the contact. He chuckled at this, but remained close, eyes finding yours again.

“Still nervous?”

He asked, his voice low and gravelly. His eyes seemed darker as he smirked down at you, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth. Your eyes flitted down to his mouth, your breath catching in your lungs at the sight. Something resembling a squeak involuntarily escaped your throat.

“Marc. Please.”

You whined, big doe-eyes glimmering, and Marc scrunched his face up as though he was in pain, eyes squeezed shut tight as he groaned. He rested his forehead against yours.

“Shit. You really gonna make it that easy for me, baby?”

He practically hissed, and a breathy laugh blew past your lips. Marc captured your mouth with his again, harder this time, the hand that was in your hair reached up to brace himself against the door above your head, successfully caging you in. You hummed against him as his tongue passed through the seam of your lips, sinking into you further. Your desperate hands reached up and clawed at his chest, gripping the navy blue fabric of his cotton t-shirt in your fingers as you held him close. He pressed himself into you, and you could feel the hardness of his bulge flush against your lower abdomen. A moan escaped you at the feeling of his arousal, your body instinctually thrusting into his hold. You could feel him smile into the kiss.

“Yeah? You feel what you do to me, huh, baby?”

He teased against your lips, and you tossed your head back, thudding against the door behind you. You looked down your nose at him, through your lashes, panting slightly, your hands still twisted in the material of his shirt.

“Fuck, Marc, want you so bad, just—”

Your words died on your breath when his arms abruptly slid beneath your butt and hoisted you upwards, your legs wrapping around his waist and your arms around his neck. One of his large hands stayed firmly squeezing the flesh of your ass, the other roamed the length of your back as he pressed his lips against yours again, turning to walk you further into the apartment.

“Jesus, this is gonna be fun.”

He mumbled at your eagerness and responsiveness, your hands threading through his brown curls as he brought you towards the bed, teeth nipping at your bottom lip. You gasped when he threw you back onto the mattress abruptly, your body bouncing once at the contact, causing you to giggle. But then Marc was stalking over your body, hovering above your body with a predatory look in his eyes. He licked his lips as you blinked up at him.

“Gonna take my time with you, pretty girl. Gonna absolutely ruin you.”

You impatiently pulled his face back to yours, and he didn’t resist, kissing you back with equal fervor and desire as your own, but the moment you lifted your hips to seek friction from his body, he pulled away, tutting at you condescendingly.

“Ah, ah, ah. Relax, baby. Don’t torture yourself.”

He smirked, fingers dancing across the skin of your stomach beneath the hem of your shirt. You reacted immediately, lifting your arms above your head to allow him to pull it from your body.

“Look at you—so obedient.”

His patronizing tone normally would’ve pissed you off, but there was something about the look in Marc's eyes—completely enraptured with you, ready to give you the world—that made you want to do whatever he said. He reached behind your body to undo your bra, fingers nimbly unhooking the clasps as he yanked it off of you, his face immediately sinking into your cleavage. He groaned, lips frantically attaching themselves to the flesh between your breasts, wandering across the expanse of the newly-exposed skin and wherever they could reach.

“Oh, baby. Got such pretty tits.”

He growled, teeth playfully sinking into the skin at the top of your right breast, earning a yelp from your mouth as he quickly soothed the sting with a swipe of his tongue, smirking up at you. The heat of his mouth was enough to briefly distract you from his wandering hands, but then he was yanking your pants down your legs in one fell swoop, leaving you bare save for the plain pink cotton panties you’d worn today—they weren’t particularly sexy, as you had been trying to prevent your apparel from serving as a confounding variable, but Marc still looked like he wanted to devour you.

His rough hands ran up the plush skin of your thighs, over your hips before squeezing at your tits, making your back arch up and off the bed. A dark chuckle sounded from above you.

“So eager.”

He hummed, pressing a kiss to your mouth, and you felt his hands travel down your body again, teasingly fondling at the waistband of your underwear as you sighed. You let your own hands travel beneath his shirt, running your hands along the warmth of his toned abdomen, coaxing him out of the material. You were happily surprised when he honored your silent request, allowing you to pull the shirt over his head and toss it to the side. His expression flickered for a moment as you admired him, his eyes briefly shining with a certain warmth that you couldn’t decipher. He pressed his lips to yours, a soft, sweet kiss, but when he pulled away, the wicked gleam in his eye had returned.

“Gonna make you feel good, baby. You want me to touch you?”

Your nod was frantic, your head pressed back into the pillows as you forced your body to stay still beneath him, even as you desperately wanted to rut up against his jean-clad thighs.

“Yeah, you do, huh? Bein’ such a good girl for me, baby—you gonna keep behavin’ yourself? Gonna let me take care a’ you?”

You whined, desperation starting to pulse through your limbs, making you want to squirm.

“Yes, Marc, yes, just—please—”

He shushed you, his lips pressing hotly beneath your jaw before continuing down the column of your neck, down your sternum, across your breasts, and finally stopping above your navel. He hummed into your skin, the vibrations causing a chill to pass over your spine, goosebumps rising in their wake. He lifted his hands to spread your legs further apart, granting him the space to lay between them so he was face-to-face with your clothed core.

“Fuck, baby—soakin’ for me already.”

You could feel his hot breath against the cool, damp material of your panties, and you jolted when his fingers lightly pressed against the wet spot, the pads of his digits just barely swiping over your folds. Your toes curled and legs tensed, trying hard to withstand Marc's slow, relentless teasing. He seemed to be enjoying it, a dark chuckle escaping his mouth at your reaction.

“Tell me what you want, baby.”

He requested lowly, hands pressed against your inner thighs to hold them apart in front of him. You tried to make your voice steady.

“Marc, please, just—”

His fingers harshly curled into the flesh of your thighs, creating divots in the soft skin as you flinched. He gave you a warning glare.

“You never struck me as the bratty type. C’mon, baby—tell me what you want.”

“You, Marc, fuck—want you so bad. Always wanted you.”

You flinched at your own confession, but Marc responded with a throaty growl.

“Oh, yeah? Thought this was just for research, hm?”

You felt his nose brush against the crotch of your panties, and you whimpered, your hips lifting of their own accord. Marc’s hands gripped your waist tightly and slammed your ass back into the mattress, pressing you down firmly.

“That’s enough.”

He warned, suddenly strict, and you swallowed, trying hard to resist the urge to sink your hands in his hair and force him towards where you needed him most.

“Fuckin’ greedy little thing. I’ll give you whatever you want, pretty girl—just wanna hear you say it.”

You bit your lip defiantly, feigning confusion at his request, and he growled again, teeth sinking into the flesh of your hip right above the waistband of your panties. You jumped at the sensation, letting out a sharp cry, and you felt the vibration of his chuckle through your skin.

“Go on, Y/N. Tell me the truth. Tell me how bad you want me.”

Your resolve shattered.

“Want you so bad, Marc. Wanted you since the day I met you. Wanted you to bend me over the desk in my office, wanted—wanted to get on my knees for you right there on the bus. Got off to the thought of you fucking me so many times, Marc, shit, please, would you just—”

He practically ripped the panties from your body as his mouth finally surged forward to steal a taste of your sopping cunt. You yelped in surprise when his tongue swiped through your folds, and Marc wasted no time in sinking two fingers into your throbbing entrance, already beginning a relentless pace within you.

“Oooh, FUCK, Marc—”

You exclaimed, hips thrusting upward at the sudden stimulation, and Marc’s strong arm reached up to press down on your stomach, forcing your movements to halt.

“Sit fuckin’ still—want you to cum all over my fingers, baby.”

He muttered against your clit, lips wrapping around the bud to suck harshly. Your orgasm was rapidly approaching already, the pleasure mounting and mounting with each sudden thrust of Marc’s thick fingers, each move deliberate and practiced. You were mewling beneath him, back arched harshly as he continued his pace, dark eyes watching as your face contorted into a look of pleasure.

“That’s it, baby, can feel you squeezin’ my fingers, fuck—you gonna cum for me?”

Your climax peaked easily and you let out a long sigh as you let the waves of pleasure overcome your senses, only acutely aware of Marc’s gentle praises being muttered against your throbbing cunt as your became pliant beneath him.

Your muscles began to loosen after your sudden and intense orgasm, but the sensation didn’t last for long—Marc wasn't stopping. His tongue had replaced his fingers, thrusting in and out of your dripping pussy, his nose nudging at your clit in a move he must’ve learned from Steven, the cheeky bastard...

“Fuck, Marc, shit, I can’t—”

You couldn’t stop yourself from squirming, but he held you down securely, not allowing you to pull away from the intense stimulation he was still offering.

“Color.”

The sound was muffled, mixed in with the sinful slurping noises he was making, and your cloudy mind took a few moments to process his request, but as his fingers pressed harder into the divot of your hipbone, you threw your head back to respond. Stoplight.

“Green, Marc, but—God, fuck, s’too much, I can’t—”

“You can, and you will.”

Your eyes met his from his position buried in your mound, and the sight of his hungry eyes and the tone of his demand were enough to send you rapidly toppling over the edge yet again. The high-pitched wail that you let out was shameful, but Marc didn’t pause, watching you closely as you came apart on his tongue yet again.

As you came back down to Earth, he finally offered you a moment of reprieve, coming up for air to press a bruising kiss to your lips. The tangy taste of your arousal on his lips made your face flush hot.

“Taste so sweet for me, baby. Gonna give me another?"

You hummed, mind still foggy with bliss, but then his fingers were ghosting over your swollen clit, swiping carefully in circular motions on your tender flesh. Your head lifted to press into his shoulder, and he chuckled wickedly, increasing his pressure as you writhed beneath him.

“That’s it, baby, doin’ so well.”

He praised, hot lips pressed to your ear, and you could feel heat pool in your lower belly, red and hot and seething. Your lip was pulled between your teeth, hard enough that you could taste the metallic tinge of blood on your tongue as Marc sped up his pace. Your fingers wrapped around his arm, trying to pull him away, but his muscles flexed beneath your hold, and the overstimulation quickly made way for yet another stuttering orgasm, your cunt clenching around nothing as your teeth sank into the flesh of Marc’s shoulder, body twitching uncontrollably. You heard him hiss from the bite to his skin, but it quickly evolved into a groan as he turned his head to the side, littering your jaw with open-mouthed kisses as sweat dappled your face.

“There we go. Good girl, baby. Good girl.”

He cooed, finally pulling his hand away from your core. He lifted his slick-coated fingers and pressed them to your lips, and you absent-mindedly obeyed, sucking his digits into your mouth and lapping up the residual arousal from his knuckles. He hummed in approval, your face utterly fucked-out and eyes hazy. He pressed a soft kiss to your nose before sitting upright above you, his hands making quick work of his belt buckle as he pushed his jeans and boxers down simultaneously.

“Think you’re ready for my cock, pretty girl?”

Your legs were still quaking with aftershocks, your thighs sticky with wetness from your prior orgasms and Marc’s saliva. Still, even with exhaustion weighing heavy in your limbs, the sight of Marc’s cock standing at full height, ruddy and weeping, was enough to inspire a nod of your head.

“Want you—fuck, Marc, want you inside me, please.”

“Sound so pretty when you beg for me, baby.”

Marc crept forward on his knees, stroking his cock with practiced precision as he slid between your split legs. You felt the head of his member slide experimentally through your folds, nudging at your clit. You bristled, the heat of his hardened length jostling your shot nerves. You nearly cried at the contact, hips pressing into the mattress and away from the pressure, but then the tip notched at your entrance and you wanted nothing more for him to sink into you. Before he pressed further, though, he slipped fingers beneath your chin, turning your head to look at him. Your lip was quivering with want.

“Color?”

He rumbled, brown eyes gentle, and your ass lifted upwards, trying to force his cock further into your awaiting channel, but Marc pulled away completely, drawing a long whine of protest from your chest.

“Easy, baby. Say the word, and I’ll fuck you just how you want. But I need to hear it.”

You swallowed, fingers sinking into his curls, and your voice was hoarse when you spoke.

“Green, Marc. Fuck me, please.”

Your swollen folds made way for his thick length as it sank into you quickly, bottoming out in one swift thrust as Marc groaned throatily.

“Oh, fuck.”

He growled, eyes squeezed shut tight at the sensation of your tight walls fluttering around him. His balls pressed firmly up against your ass, and Marc reached down to grip one of your ankles, hoisting your leg high above your head so the front of your thigh was to your chest. He offered a slow roll of his hips, his cock nestling tightly into you as he snapped them forward.

“Oh, fuck, yes, baby—so fuckin’ tight.”

His pace started to build, and soon he reached for your other leg to hold it above your head, effectively folding you in half. The new angle allowed him to reach even deeper within you, the head of his cock prodding at something devastating. You were moaning shamelessly, now, incapable of forming coherent words at this point as Marc continued to pound into you, his teeth bared as his hips pistonned forward.

“Always wanted to fuck you like this, baby. Knew you’d make the prettiest noises for me, knew you’d let me do whatever I wanted to you. You gonna gimme another one, baby? Gonna cum on my cock?”

A sob ripped through you at his words, your hips thrusting upwards to meet his strokes. He had one hand wrapped around each ankle, braced over your head as he railed you into the mattress, the bedframe creaking under the strain. You felt your stomach coiling yet again, but your body was resisting, so overstrung and sensitive that your muscles felt like they were on fire. Still, Marc’s pace was relentless, and you couldn’t stave off the overwhelming need for release as you started to fall apart.

The groan that Marc offered was animalistic as your pussy clenched down on him, hard, throbbing rhythmically as you surrendered yourself to the onslaught of shockwaves that pulsed through your core. You felt faint, weightless, the crux of heat in your center exploding.

“Oh, fuck me, baby, oh my God, did you just—”

His words dissolved into a growl as he pounded into you harder, and it was only as you slowly regained your bearings that you could feel the slickness coating your thighs and Marc’s abdomen—you’d squirted all over his cock.

“Jesus, not gonna last much longer, baby, so fuckin’ good.”

His head was bowed, curls falling into his eyes as he rammed into you, balls slapping against your asscheeks with each thrust. Punched-out moans passed through your lips surreptitiously as you tried to maintain your focus, although your consciousness was slipping away.

Marc’s left hand released your leg and you felt his fingers swirl over your clit again.

“Gonna cum for you, baby, but you gotta gimme one more, first.”

You sobbed, body lurching off the bed as if you were possessed, your knee curling over his shoulder.

“Oh, fuck, Marc, I can’t, s’too much, please, just want you to—”

“Not gonna cum until you do.”

He spoke through gritted teeth, a hardened determination glinting within his crazed eyes. You drank him in—sweat dripping from his curls, nostrils flared, lips pulled up in a snarl, veins in his neck straining beneath the skin with his effort. His pace abruptly switched, his rapid thrusting replaced with a few slow, deep, and fucking bone-rattling plunges within you, the sound of his skin roughly slapping yours filling your ears. The change in tempo was too much, you were spiraling, and with a guttural cry of his name, you felt a blissful numbness erupt from within. Marc threw his head back as you clenched around him once more.

“Oh, fuck, baby, yes, yes, so fuckin’ good, God—”

You watched through half-lidded eyes as he pulled out of you hurriedly, hand reaching down to jerk his cock rapidly as he finally allowed himself to reach his release.

“Fuck, gonna cum all over you, baby, yeah, you ready? You want my cum?”

You nodded, whining greedily, your legs settling down on either side of him as you raised your hips towards him so you could feel his knuckles brush over your pubic bone with each rapid stroke of his cock. The desperation in your eyes is what hurled him over the edge.

“Fuckin’ take it, baby, I’m cummin’ for you, oh, fuck—”

His spend spilled all across your mound, spraying upwards over your stomach and some droplets even landing themselves atop your tits as he continued to jack himself off above you, deep grunts passing through his parted lips with each spurt of cum that he coaxed out. He was panting heavily, watching his white seed ooze across your skin and down his knuckles as he finally slowed the pace of his hand, squeezing one final drop of pearly liquid from the tip as he groaned, leaning forward to rest his forehead against yours to catch his breath. You hummed, unable to open your tired eyes, but the intimacy of the action was welcomed as his lips just barely brushed over your own, a silent ‘thank you’ in the aftermath of an intense moment of passion.

You didn’t think it was possible to feel simultaneously weightless but so heavy at the same time, your limbs sinking into the damp sheets beneath you as you attempted to catch your breath. Marc nestled his face into the crook of your neck—an action vaguely reminiscent of Steven’s habit of nuzzling into you—and you felt him take a slow, deep inhale against your clammy skin, his warm breath fanning out along your collarbone.

You tried to stay awake when you felt his body peel itself from atop yours, but he returned moments later with a cool damp cloth to wipe away the evidence of both of your orgasms. You whined when the cold came in contact with the swollen, sensitive folds of your cunt before he moved up to wipe away his own release—Marc easily shushed you, pressing soft kisses against the skin after he wiped each spot clean. When he was finished, he haphazardly tossed the towel aside, crawling up towards you yet again.

Marc liked to be smothered. If you could take any one thing away from this moment, that’s what you saw—he laid down beside you, flat on his back, before rolling you over on top of him, your face pressed up against his pecs as your body settled between his legs. You hummed at the new position, his arms curling protectively around you, fingers of his right hand playing with your knotted hair. Your ear was pressed up against his chest and you listened to the steady rhythmic thumping of his heart, and you easily could’ve fallen asleep in an instant. Still, you wanted to enjoy the tenderness of the moment for a bit longer.

“You okay?”

Marc finally asked, and the vibrations from his throat reverberated down through his ribcage for you to feel. You breathed in long and deep, the feeling of his soft, warm skin comforting and familiar.

“’M great.”

You whispered, tilting your head slightly to look up at him. There was a small adoring smile on his abused lips, his brown eyes sweeping over your face in a way that only Marc could do—calculating, observant, as if he was looking straight through you. Sometimes, his unusual skill for reading people made you uneasy, but now, you felt completely relaxed beneath his scrutinizing gaze. It would be hard not to, when his eyes glowed as if you’d hung the stars in the sky just for him.

“…was that okay?”

Marc rephrased, and it was only then that you caught on to the insecurity he so desperately tried to mask. The crease between his brows betrayed him, making his concern for you evident. You smiled up at him reassuringly.

“Marc, it was great. You were great. You are great.”

Maybe it was the post-orgasmic bliss that had you feeling sappy, the endorphins boosting you higher into your serenity. The look on Marc’s face was heart-wrenching—the gratitude that shone in his beaming smile, the glow of his face as it lit up with pride, the—dare I say—love, in his eyes, as he gazed upon you.

A comfortable silence settled between you, and the hand that was resting against your back reached down to pull the duvet up and over the both of you, cocooning you in its warmth. You let yourself settle further into Marc’s welcoming embrace, eyes fluttering shut as you let your exhaustion take you. You quickly spoke before you found yourself dozing off.

“So…what’s your typical post-sex ritual look like after this, hm?”

You questioned, lifting your chin slightly to see his face. His eyes blinked open to look at you, and he frowned, pursing his lips.

“Believe it or not…with most of my, uh, hookups, I—uh, I have the tendency to leave in the middle of the night so I’m not there when the girl wakes up—gotta leave ’em wanting more, y’know?”

You laughed breathily at that, but hoped to hide how crestfallen his admission made you feel.

“Thanks for letting me know. I’ll try to sneak out after you fall asleep—”

His arms tightened their grip around you, and there was a sort of pleading look in his big brown eyes as he shook his head.

“No, you don’t have to do that, really, I just thought you should—”

“It’s really okay, Marc, I don’t mind.”

You assured with a shy smile, but he shook his head more firmly this time.

“No. You aren’t just a hookup, and you aren’t just some girl.”

Your lips parted in a silent gasp, eyes searching within his to try to gauge his thoughts. He seemed genuine, insistent. Your heart practically melted in your chest.

“But, I don’t—”

“Please, just stay?”

He hadn’t meant for it to come out as a question, and certainly hadn’t meant to plead—this was more vulnerability than he’d ever displayed to you before, something you’d ached to see for as long as you’d known him. For him to open up to you, to trust you, to finally let you in.

You mustered up whatever strength you had left to lift yourself up and press a soft, chaste kiss to his lips. You gazed up at him through tired eyes, face aglow from his apparent affections.

You didn’t give him a verbal response—you didn’t need to. Instead, you settled back in against him, curling your head into his shoulder, pressing your face against the warm skin at the side of his neck. Sleep came easy for both of you—Marc felt lighter having finally let his impermeable facade yield to you, even if just for a second.

Tomorrow, you intended to convince him to drop his guard completely.

POINTS OF CONTENTION: - relinquishing control - embracing uncertainty - asking for help

TREATMENT: - practice submission - express vulnerability - communicate needs

You briefly got déjà vu when Marc opened the door to his apartment for you, a familiar cheeky smirk adorning his handsome features. This time, however, your expression matched his own as you stood on your tiptoes to plant a peck on his lips, pushing past him and into the flat as if you owned the place. He was startled at your forwardness, and he would be lying if he said your surge of confidence didn’t make him slightly uneasy—what had gotten into you?

“Back for more?”

He managed to quip, quirking a brow at you as he shut the door behind him. You approached Gus’ fish tank and tapped the glass a few times to get his attention, leaning over to watch him swim around aimlessly for a few seconds—it gave Marc a perfect view of your ass through your yoga pants as you bent down, and he sucked his bottom lip between his teeth as he stared unabashedly.

“I can see your reflection in the glass, you asshole.”

You jabbed, a teasing smile lighting up your face as you met his gaze in the mirrored tank, but he didn’t stop his shameless ogling—instead, he watched you with darkened eyes, a wicked grin on his lips.

“At least I don’t have to hide the fact that I stare at your ass every time I see you, anymore.”

Your brows lifted at his confession, and you carefully straightened up, turning to face him at an agonizingly slow pace. Your hands found your hips as you studied him with an amused expression. You stood across from him in challenge.

“So you admit that you’ve checked me out? Even before this little experiment?”

Marc fought hard to keep the smirk off of his face as he crossed his arms over his chest, sizing you up carefully to gauge your seriousness. You were clearly teasing him, but he offered a subject change nonetheless in an effort to avoid the fact that he just admitted he’d been eye-fucking you since the day you’d met.

Instead, his eyes flickered down to the small black paper bag that you had set by your feet, his brow raising in question.

“I see you brought props with you, this time?”

He closed the gap between you with two large strides, bending down to snatch the shopping bag from your feet before you could protest. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting when he peered inside, but his eyes widened when he realized what you’d brought.

“Jesus, Y/N. You dirty, dirty girl.”

His fingers reached in to pull out a pair of black silky restraints—it didn’t go unnoticed by Marc that the receipt was in the bag and the fabric still had a tag fastened to it. You must’ve bought them just for this occasion.

The expression on his face was practically carnal as he smirked at you, but something about the look in your eyes made him hesitate. You looked up at him shyly, reaching forward to thumb at the fabric before settling your hand into his open palm atop the silk.

“They’re not for me.”

Four words, and Marc was stunned into silence. His face fell, eyes wide as they studied you, expression bemused and slightly fearful. You swore you could actually see his face drain of color.

“We don’t have to, Marc, I promise—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to just spring this on you out of the blue, I’m sure it’s not something you’d normally—well, I mean, not that I know what you’re into and everything, but I just thought it might be—”

“Slow down, baby, it’s okay. I just—took me by surprise, s’all. Wasn’t—wasn’t expecting it.”

You looked up at him thoughtfully, now hyperaware of the trepidation in his features. He avoided your eyes.

“Come on.”

You grabbed his wrist softly and guided him over to the bed, sitting down on the edge and gesturing him to follow suit. He sat down beside you and carefully turned to lay out the two black restraints on the mattress behind him. Then, he turned back to you, eyes gentle. You reached over to pull his hands into your lap.

“Marc.”

You started softly, and his eyes flitted to you nervously, an uneasy lopsided smile on his face.

“Listen to me. We really, really don’t have to do this if you’re not comfortable. I know it’s—it requires a lot of trust, and—well, I don’t know.”

You fell silent, unsure of what to say or how to proceed. Marc was giving you that familiar calculating stare, taking you in and analyzing every breath you took. You grew impatient with his lack of response.

“Aren’t you gonna say anything?”

There was an apprehensive edge to your tone, your eyes round and full of worry, afraid to offend him or make him uncomfortable. You could see the gears turning in his head as he pondered.

“And this... of anything in the world you could possibly want to do with me, to me... this is the one thing you’d choose?”

You carefully nodded your head, squeezing his hands in your own.

“I think—I think this could be good for you. If—if you’re up for it, of course. No pressure.”

He hummed at your reply, before he turned to you with a small smile.

“Okay. Let’s do it.”

You blinked once, then twice, surprised at his easy response.

“Wha—really? Are you sure?”

“I trust you.”

Maybe those words were just that—words. But you couldn’t help feel your eyes grow glassy as the gravity of his admission weighed on you, your heart soaring in your chest as you smiled widely at him, eyes crinkling at the corners. The glow radiating from your face made Marc’s shoulders roll back with pride—he would do anything just to see you smile at him like that.

Apparently, that really did mean anything.

You leaned over and kissed him deeply, hand sliding to cup his face as he pulled you against him, sliding you atop his lap easily as he sucked at your bottom lip.

You settled down onto his thighs, your core easing over his hardening bulge as you pressed your front into him, your pebbling nipples brushing against his chest as you kissed him feverishly. His hands held a bruising grip on your hips as you grinded against him, feeling his hold tighten with every brush of your clothed core over his growing erection.

He hummed when you pushed on his shoulders, coaxing him to lay back against the mattress as you pulled his shirt over his head easily. You guided him towards the headboard as you continued to kiss him, settling him carefully onto the pillows in the center of the bed. You drew your head back quickly, your breath catching in your throat as you drank him in—his dark umber curls a stark contrast to the white downy pillows beneath his head, his brown eyes darkening as he watched you with half-lidded eyes, spit-soaked lips parted. You’d never seen a prettier sight—and you knew how to make it even more enticing.

Your fingers traced up his chest and danced across his shoulders. You kissed him to distract from you sneaky movements as you reached behind yourself to retrieve the pair of restraints that had been discarded earlier. You let your nails skate across his nipples, causing him to hiss, before you gently pried his hands off of your hips. You grabbed each wrist carefully, intently watching his reaction as you guided them over the top of his head and towards the headboard.

You grinded down against his cock once more in an effort to relax his body—he groaned quietly, and you reached for one of the restraints, pulling his left arm straight out to the side and carefully winding the fabric around the bedpost before reaching to fasten it around his wrist. You watched his jaw ripple as you carefully looped the silk over his skin, tightening it just slightly to prevent his hand from slipping out. You tugged at the fabric lightly, testing its resistance, before you leaned back down to peck his lips.

“That okay?”

You asked carefully, nose brushing against his, and he squeezed his eyes shut, tugging against the binding before offering you a soft nod. You smiled at him graciously before repeating the action on his right arm, successfully rendering him incapacitated beneath you, his arms spread wide on either side of his body. You allowed yourself to draw back once more, the sight of him splayed out atop the mattress, completely at your mercy, caused a wave of arousal to rush straight between your legs. He must’ve felt the clenching of your thighs from where they caged his hips in, because he let out a breathy laugh.

“You like this, don’t you?”

His voice was low and hoarse, and you kissed him again, nodding against his lips.

“Yeah, Marc, I do. So pretty for me.”

You felt the warm huff of air that he let out at your praise, and you knew he secretly loved your verbal affirmations, even if he’d never admit it to you. You offered him one last kiss before slowly dragging your face back—his head followed your backwards movement, chasing the feel of your mouth against his, but he jostled at the feeling of his movement being restricted. His eyes opened suddenly at the sensation, as if he was surprised to find the restraints actually lived up to their name. You couldn’t help the tiny grin on your lips as he accustomed himself to his limited range of movement—you could feel the tightness in his muscles, his biceps flexing and tensing as he mindlessly fought to gain control back.

“Easy—you’re okay, I’m right here.”

You soothed, running your hands up his torso as his abdominal muscles contracted beneath your fingers. There was sweat beading at his hairline, his jaw grinding rhythmically as he finally opened his eyes to look up at you, forcing himself to inhale a steady breath in an effort to calm himself down. Your fingers rubbed at the tension in his shoulders and you felt him soften under your touch, becoming pliant beneath you as he allowed himself to settle back into the mattress, finally coming to terms with his current situation. You rewarded him with a kiss, leaning yourself forward so your front was pressed to his.

“Before we start, I need you to promise me something.”

His eyes followed you when you sat back upright, and he nodded for you to continue. You breathed.

“Marc. You have to swear to me that you will use the safe word if you need to.”

He rolled his eyes in response, but you squeezed your thighs together in response, putting an uncomfortable pressure against his hips. He glared at you, but you gave him a stern look.

“I’m serious, Marc. I don’t want you to think—to not use it just because you want to make me happy, or because you wanna seem like a big tough guy. You do make me happy, and I know you’re tough, regardless of whether or not you choose to tell me to stop. Okay?”

He could hear the sincerity in your tone, the genuine concern lacing your words. He swallowed. He wasn't going to lie and say it wouldn’t be hard for him to safeword—he didn’t like admitting defeat, showing weakness or cracking under the pressure. But this wasn’t some mission or fistfight with an adversary, he reminded himself—this was you. He was safe, and he trusted you, and he was supposed to enjoy this. Finally, he nodded at you, and you mumbled out a ‘thank you’ before pulling yourself off of him completely.

He watched you like a hawk, eyes trained on you intently, analyzing your every move in anticipation. You carefully reached for his waistband, and he obliged, lifting his hips from the bed to allow you to undress him. You pulled his briefs down in the same motion, discarding Marc’s final two articles of clothing and leaving him bare before you.

His cock was at full mast, resting atop his navel as he drew in slow, deliberate breaths, trying not to feel bashful beneath your scrutinizing gaze. You were still trying to fathom the fact that you had this Adonis of a man splayed out in front of you, completely surrendering himself to you.

He really had no idea what he’d gotten himself into.

“Color?”

You asked, kneeling back on your heels from your position beside him, one hand resting on his abs, just above where the head of his cock was patiently waiting. He breathed out a chuckle.

“You haven’t even done anything yet.”

You raised a brow, and at your persistence, he offered a roll of his eyes.

“Green.”

“Good.”

You smiled, fingers sliding down from his stomach to ghost over the tender skin of his shaft, causing a shiver to crawl up his spine. You were careful to take note of just how his body reacted to each ministration—the way his breath hitched when you finally wrapped your hand around the base, the barely-audible grunt when your thumb swiped the bead of precum from his slit.

You removed your hand briefly just to spit into your palm before you were back on him, beginning a slow and gentle pace of stroking him. He hummed at the motion, his heels digging into the mattress as he threw his head back into the pillows, fingers wrapped around each restraint tightly to give himself something to grip. Your other hand reached over to fondle his balls, and his hips jerked just slightly at the added stimulation.

“S’that feel good, baby?”

You purred, your hand gradually picking up speed as your jerked him. He groaned lowly, nodding at your question.

“Shit, yeah.”

You smirked, carefully shifting so you were kneeling in between his legs, lowering yourself down to lay on your stomach. He watched you closely, bracing himself as you leant forward and suckled one of his heavy balls into your mouth, your other hand continuing its steady pace.

You hummed around his sack and he grunted, abdominal muscles flexing as you popped it out of your mouth and traded it for his other bulb, tongue swirling around the flesh and listening to his small moans of pleasure.

He was trying to stay quiet, you noticed. You didn’t press him on the issue—you knew he wouldn’t be quiet for much longer.

You pushed yourself up and licked a long stripe from base to tip, tongue flicking over his frenulum which caused his hips to quake. You offered a few kitten licks to his slit, tasting the salty precum as you continued to stroke him steadily.

“Fuck, baby—just like that.”

He whispered, eyes squeezed shut at the sensations. He was holding himself back—you wanted him to fall apart.

You carefully drew the head of his cock past your lips, bobbing your head up and down over just the tip, matching your pace to that of your hand. He growled, and your eyes flitted up to watch his biceps strain as he tugged on his bindings, desperately wanting to bury his fingers in your hair. You sank your head lower, taking him deeper, lewd choking noises escaping your lips as you swallowed him down. His hips were weakly thrusting upward, now, his feet planted into the mattress to seek leverage in a sorry effort to fuck into the heat of your mouth. You didn’t stop him—you let him cling to the sliver of control he was desperately seeking, removing your hand to sink your head down completely, allowing him to thrust his cock into the back of your throat with his shallow movements.

“Oh, fuck, baby, fuck.”

He moaned, and you could see the muscles of his stomach clenching as you reached to fondle his balls again. You were breathing in carefully through your nose as he continued to abuse your throat, his length sliding in and out of your mouth sloppily. One sharp thrust caused you to gag and he let out a deep groan from somewhere in his ribcage—you could feel his balls tightening up, thighs flexing.

“Yes, baby, gonna cum in that pretty little mouth, yes—”

You sat up abruptly with a gasp, pulling your body from his completely as his limbs involuntarily jerked beneath you, his back arching at the sudden loss of contact. He yelped, and you could see veins bulging in his arms as he harshly pulled against the restraints.

“Jesus fuck!”

He cried out, hips falling back down into the mattress, defeated. You sat silently, watching as he tried to catch his breath. He blinked the bleariness from his eyes to fix his stare on you—there was a somewhat sadistic shine in your gaze as you met his eyes challengingly. When you didn’t back down, you were surprised when he let out a bark of a laugh.

“So this is your game, sweetheart? You gonna edge me? Really?”

He was trying to intimidate you—you could see right through him. He was mocking you, hoping to berate you into submission, into backing down. It wouldn’t work.

When you didn’t respond, he shook his head lightly, feigning composure as he lazily closed his eyes.

“Go on—have your fun.”

He offered, a small smile on his lips. You felt anger briefly flare up inside you, but you quelled it down with logic—you were in control, right now. You had all the power.

It didn’t matter how disciplined Marc’s psyche was—his body betrayed him. It told the truth. Your hand reached back up towards his shaft, and his cock jumped beneath your touch, thighs tensing just slightly. You bit your lip to prevent yourself from giggling with satisfaction—Marc’s face was set into a look of quiet concentration, lips pulled into a straight line.

You started again, the same way you had before, with your spit-soaked hand slowly escalating until your lips joined in. His noises were subdued—they came from deep within his chest, escaping through barely parted lips only when he was powerless to stop them. He writhed beneath you, responsive to your touch, and when the telltale signs of his approaching orgasm began revealing themselves again, you ceased your movement.

“FUCK!”

He yelled, back arching off the bed as he attempted to curl into a sitting position, but he was snapped back into complacency by the fabric bound to his wrists. There were veins bulging in his neck as he seethed, sweat beginning to bead along his hairline. You blinked up at him innocently as he glared at you, eyes dark and filled with disdain.

“So fuckin’ pleased with yourself, huh, baby? This what you wanted? To rile me up? God, if I wasn’t tied up right now, I’d—”

“You’d what?”

He blinked at your interruption, your voice showcasing your defiance.

“What’re you gonna do, Marc? Nothing. You’re not gonna do anything. You’re gonna sit back, and fucking take it, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

His jaw clenched down tightly, his face practically trembling with rage. His nostrils flared as he stared at you, trying to win the silent battle between you, in complete denial of the fact that you were completely in control. He wasn’t backing down, unwilling to admit that he was powerless—so you reached forward and scratched your nails down the length of his shaft. He shouted in protest, hips jolting backwards to retreat from the uncomfortable sensation, and he growled lowly in his throat before sagging back into the mattress—his eyes were still on you, but his lips were sealed shut.

“That’s what I thought.”

You antagonized, leaning down to take his cock back into your mouth. It was taking increasingly smaller increments of time to get him to the edge, and you continued—once, then twice more. On the third round, he’d nearly lost it, but you squeezed around the base of his cock tightly to force the orgasm to dissipate as it peaked.

“You fuckin’ bitch.”

He snapped, and the words seemed to surprise him just as much as they surprised you. A heat of the moment utterance, offered in a second of desperation—but he didn’t take it back. Maybe you should feel hurt—instead, you felt pride swell inside you as you stared down at him wickedly.

“Such mean words from a guy who can’t even see me through his tears.”

It was true—there were tears streaming down either side of his face, eyes red and puffy as he fought viciously against your torture. He shook his head at you, overwhelmed with anger, but he couldn’t hold back the sob that practically pulled itself from his lungs when you gave a single lick up his shaft.

“Oh, fuck you, fuck—”

“You can cum whenever you want, Marc. I’m not stopping you.”

You tone was even and steady, expression blank as you studied him. His brows furrowed, his eyes suspicious as his breathing slowed again. You smiled coyly at him, innocently, leaning forward to press a kiss to his lips—he didn’t kiss you back. He just watched you as you carefully resumed your position between his legs, waiting to hear your stipulation.

“You just have to beg for it.”

Marc’s venomous laugh was replaced with a long whine as you took his cock in your hands once more, stroking him a few times before simply holding him there. He sneered at you.

“I don’t beg.”

“Then you don’t cum.”

You shrugged easily, releasing his throbbing member from your grasp and allowing it to drop back down against his stomach. You could see every muscle in his body fighting for release—his heels digging into the mattress, his arms continuously straining against their restraints. You tutted at him condescendingly, your eyes mocking sympathy as you stood from the bed. He studied you carefully as you began to remove your clothes until your were completely naked. You rejoined him on the bed, loving the way his eyes turned ravenous as he admired your body.

“If you wanna torture yourself, Marc, that’s your choice.”

You purred, crawling up until you were straddling him. You watched the way his breath hitched when you were hovering over his cock, and you felt it jump beneath your cunt—but instead of dropping down, you crept further upwards until you were straddling his ribcage. He looked at you, confused.

“So what are you gonna do?”

His voice was gravelly and hoarse, raw from the moans you had been pulling from him. You leaned down and shoved your tongue into his mouth—he whimpered at the intimacy, but you pulled away soon after.

“I’m gonna ride your face, and you’re gonna be a good boy and make me cum on your tongue.”

The whine that he let out was carnal—you’d never heard anything like it in your life, and Marc might’ve been embarrassed if it weren’t for the painful arousal that was burning a hole through the bottom of his stomach. He tilted his head back as you began to position yourself over him, lips already parting in anticipation of tasting you, but you paused, your eyes turning gentle. Your hand reached down to stroke through his damp hair, and he pressed his head into your touch.

“Color?”

You whispered, and you watched his Adam’s apple bob in his throat at he swallowed. He breathed in once, then twice, before meeting your eyes again.

“Green.”

You settled your knees on either side of his head, your folds already soaking from your time toying with Marc—you shuddered at the feeling of his warm breath on your awaiting cunt, and with trembling thighs, you slowly and carefully lowered yourself onto his mouth.

You lurched forward at his eagerness, his tongue immediately breaching your entrance and slurping up the arousal that was flooding your pussy. You yelped in surprise, arms reaching forward to grip the headboard as you tried to keep most of your weight off of him, allowing your face to just barely skate over his features.

He mumbled something into your core, and you lifted yourself from him in concern, worried that you'd hurt him.

“What?”

You asked for clarification, brows furrowed, but when you met his eyes from between your legs, they were dark and gleaming savagely.

“I said, sit the fuck down.”

He growled again, and you could feel the headboard bend as he strained against the fabric on his wrists, obviously wanting to grab your waist and pull you down onto his mouth with full force. You let out a breathy laugh before you eased your way back onto him, allowing yourself to relax more against his face. The thick muscle of his tongue immediately began fucking into you and it wasn’t long before you were grinding against his face, his nose rubbing up against your bundle of nerves and his mouth savoring your juices. Your head was thrown back in ecstasy, and Marc watched you from his position between your legs as you came apart on his tongue, quiet cries of his name leaving your lips as your rode out your high on his mouth.

Marc greedily lapped up all you had to offer, and he almost whined in disapproval when you began picking yourself up off of him—but then you were turning around, and he got a perfect view of your perfect ass as you slowly settled your cunt back down to his mouth and—

Fuck. He nearly cried into your pussy when he felt your lips attach themselves to his cock, and he jostled against you, hips jolting upwards of their own volition. He squeezed his eyes shut and tipped his head back, trying to fight the orgasm that he was already teetering on the edge of. You hand came up and squeezed tightly around the base of his cock, helping stave off his climax.

“I didn’t tell you to stop.”

You hissed, and Marc gulped before diving straight back into you cunt, his lips wrapping around your puffy clit as he suckled it into his mouth and flicked over it with his tongue. You moaned, you fingers beginning to stroke his cock again. When you turned your attention back to his length, however, his mouth immediately stopped its movement. You sank against him, rolling your eyes in theatrical annoyance.

“Jesus, you really can’t multitask, can you?”

“Y/N.”

He spoke your name lowly and with a warning edge, and you craned your neck to look at him—his head was peaking out from behind your asscheek, eyes desperately searching yours. You could see he was struggling to maintain his composure, but he kept his voice level and steady.

“I’m gonna cum if you don’t stop.”

He voice cracked at the very end of his statement, but you appreciated his honesty with you. You swiftly removed your hand from where it was wrapped around him and he let out a long sigh, steeling himself before attaching himself to your clit once more.

Your second orgasm came easily, creeping up and washing over you without warning as Marc continued to lavish your clit with his tongue, the obscene noises he was making only adding to your arousal. He slowed his movements as you came down from your high, lapping at your release as you slowly pulled you cunt away from his mouth. You pulled yourself off of him completely, kneeling at his side and pressing a sweet, gentle kiss against his lips. His face was coated in your slick and his eyes were alight with a sort of lovesickness, as if he’d completely forgotten the torture you’d been putting him through simply because he got to watch you fall apart on his tongue. You pressed your forehead against his for a moment before you swung your leg over his hip, finally settling yourself where he needed you most.

Anticipation flickered in his dark brown eyes, his body tensing beneath you as you reached between your legs to stroke his cock, using your dripping arousal as lube to give him a few tentative strokes. He hissed, his hips jumping at the touch, but he immediately froze when you pressed the head into your entrance. He held his breath.

“I’m gonna ride you now, okay?”

You asked, although it was less of a question and more of a statement. He nodded vigorously, eyes squeezed shut and head turned to the side as he braced himself for the feeling of your hot channel swallowing him whole.

“Marc.”

You probed softly, and he winked one eye open, looking up at you where you were paused, right in the moment before sheer bliss. You eyed him warily.

“Color?”

He smiled softly up at you, more relaxed than he’d been this whole interaction—finally, finally relinquishing his control and allowing you to take the reins.

“Green.”

The duet of moans that filled the room was intoxicating as you slowly eased yourself down onto his rock-hard length, the stretch offering a sting that was just painful enough to be pleasurable. Marc’s head was thrown back into the pillows as he began to ramble incomprehensibly.

“Oh, God, oh, fuck yes, so fuckin’ good, fuck—”

You braced yourself by planting your arms against his sturdy chest, raising up your hips until just the tip remained before slamming yourself back down, burying him to the hilt within you. A wrecked sob sounded from his mouth.

“Oh, fuck, God, I can’t—”

You settled into a steady pace, angling your hips backwards just slightly so his cock rutted up against that place deep inside you that sent you reeling. You keened, grinding back and forth against him as he moaned wantonly, knuckles turning white as he pulled on the restraints with every ounce of his strength. You orgasm was rapidly approaching, and with each careful plunge of his cock into you, you felt the coil tightening.

“Fuck, Marc, gonna cum on your cock, baby.”

You whimpered, throwing your head back as your walls clenched down around him. You must’ve blacked out for a moment, your vision going bright white as pleasure speared through you—when you regained your bearings and sensation over your limbs, your ears were blessed with a sound you weren’t sure you’d get to hear.

Marc was falling apart.

“Please, oh, God, Y/N, baby, please let me cum for you, I can’t—can’t hold it anymore, please, please, please, baby, please let me cum, pleasepleasepleaseplease—”

There were sobs ripping themselves from his lips as tears flooded his eyes and streamed down his cheeks, the muscles of his abdomen clenched so tightly you thought he might sprain something. The fluttering of your tight walls against him was unbearable, truly torturous—he couldn’t do it anymore.

His eyes blinked open to watch you as your hands crept up the length of his strained arms, fingers deftly untying the knots that held him hostage to the bed. His arms fell limp at his sides when released from their hold, and he looked up at you with wide eyes, glassy with tears.

You pressed a kiss to his lips.

“Been so good for me, baby. Go ahead and take what you want, Marc, it’s yours. Cum for me.”

Something snapped inside of him. A vein throbbed in his forehead as his hands flew to your hips, planting you firmly against him as he began to thrust up into you at a rapid pace, his hips slamming against your thighs loudly and roughly. You yelped in surprise at his sudden burst of energy, and he was staring intently at the place where his cock was splitting you open, hips relentlessly pistonning upwards into you as he slammed your body down against him to meet each thrust.

You didn’t expect to cum again, but the harsh drag of his cock inside of you as his hands grounded you firmly sent you hurling across the edge, your cunt clamping down on his aching length as you pulled him across the threshold with you.

“Oh fuck, yes, yes, gonna fill you up, baby, cummin’ so hard, fuuuck—”

Each harsh pump upwards was punctuated with a grunt as he spilled inside of you, his cock pumping you full of his white hot seed as he continued pounding into you relentlessly. Even as you came down from the climax that had blindsided you, and even after he’d completely emptied himself inside of your slick walls, he continued rutting up into you, his face contorted in a look of pain and determination as he gritted his teeth.

“Woah, Marc, hey, hey, slow down—”

You urged, reached to wrap your fingers around his wrists from where they were still firmly attached to your waist, the wet sounds of his cock still pumping in and out of you filling the room. His eyes finally looked up to you, the haziness clearing as your worried face settled on him.

“It’s okay, Marc, you’re okay.”

You assured, and he finally let your full weight rest down onto him, his body slowly rolling to a halt as the aftershocks of his intense pleasure pulsed through his limbs, blood pumping loudly in his ears. He was breathing heavily, his heart beating against his ribcage harshly, but his eyes watched you as you smiled down at him, reaching forward to cup his jaw in one hand as the other ran through his sweaty hair.

“There we go. There you are. There’s my handsome boy.”

All at once, he collapsed into a fit of sobs again, sitting up to pull you against his chest impossibly tight as he wrapped his arms around you. You felt your heart break as you coddled him, one hand stroking the back of his head and the other rubbing soothing patterns into the bare skin of his back. Years and years of internalized vulnerability spilled out of him in your embrace, and you held him there until his stuttering cries turned into shaky exhales, his face buried in the crook of his neck. He fell back into the pillows, pulling you down on top of him and keeping you snugly pulled against his body.

His cock was still nestled deep inside of you, and you could feel Marc’s cum leaking out and creating a stickiness between your thighs and atop his hips. When you shifted to move, he tightened his hold, his breath wavering just slightly.

“Please, don’t. Just—stay with me. Like this. For just awhile longer. Please.”

He whispered against your temple, begging for this brief moment of reprieve, of absolution, of solace. You sank into his chest, breathing in his heady scent and allowing yourself to indulge in the intimacy of this moment, too—a moment of comfort, of safety, of resolve.

Marc had one final thought before sleep overtook him.

Is this what being okay feels like?

TAGLIST: @kezibear143 @gingermous @josephquinncore @steven-grants-world @am-3-thyst @fanofverymanythings @vaneyvfs @theboggyman @belladri @roserfz27 @nowayhomerry @justanotherkpopstanlol @bagsy-not-it @elles-mind-palace @pimosworld @winterbiip @moonmoonboys @icuminurbutt @spxctorsslxt @fandomqueen74 @freerangesweets @wumpsquill @wordacadabra @lunaleah @hornkneeforbucky @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

#moon knight smut #moon knight x reader #moon knight #jake lockley #marc spector #steven grant #steven grant smut #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #marc spector smut #jake lockley smut #jake lockley x reader #marvel smut #marvel imagine #moon knight imagine #steven grant imagine #marc spector imagine #jake lockley imagine #moon knight series #projectionistwrites