sassy-stupid

[sassy-stupid]

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.”

#love me some rafayel #and love me some of doll's writing #so this is just perfect

[sassy-stupid]

If you’re LGBT reblog and tag with your opinion on beer.

#you mean bread water? #fermenting bread water #its disgusting imo #the only beer ill touch is fruit beer #and those are really barely comparable #tho usually i just go for hard liquor or hard liquor in sweet ass cocktail #s

[sassy-stupid]

thought it was about time i made some LDS memes

[sassy-stupid]

☹️☹️☹️☹️

[sassy-stupid]

he is so moe

[sassy-stupid]

poke poke

[sassy-stupid]

Love and Deepspace: Look at your grandma and childhood friend, you like them right? :3

Me: Yeah :D

Love and Deepspace:

[sassy-stupid]

thoughts

[sassy-stupid]

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊Cool Off₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

♡︎ pairing: Zayne x fem!reader

｡°⚠︎°｡MINORS DNI (18+ ONLY)｡°⚠︎°｡

♡︎ cw: unprotected sex (oops), office sex, semi-public sex, oral sex (f!receiving), fingering, I think that's it?

♡︎ word count: 3.4k

♡︎ synopsis: what to do when you "accidentally" flash your doctor?

♡︎ a/n: I haven't written smut in like three years. So if you think my writing is cringe, just keep scrolling idk.

♡︎ special thanks to my beta reader ♡︎ @its-de ♡︎ for reading and helping me with this

banner by @cafekitsune

You finally have a day off and you want to use this free time to run errands. However, it's also a hot summer day and you need to dress accordingly. After cleaning your apartment and stocking up your fridge, you have -

meet up with your friend

shop for some new summer clothes and bed sheets

doctor’s appointment

You'd just skip the last one because you feel fine, even during the hot weather.

But you know damn well Dr Zayne will not be pleased with you if you do that. And he's not only your doctor now (and a childhood friend), but an actual friend who you spend most of your free time with. Circumstances of him being your assigned physician, some other stuff that happened in the last few months, brought you so much closer that you couldn't help but develop a huge crush on him. And how could you not when he's so kind, warm, attentive, always makes time for you, funny in his own way... you could spend the whole day thinking of all the stuff that makes you want to be more than friends.

Actually, you might be more than just friends. Lately, you’ve been going on a lot of “dates”; visiting festivals, trying new restaurants but also frequenting your favorite ones, dragging him to the arcade… he’s started insisting on being the one to drop you off at home after a night out. Just a couple of weeks ago when you were sick, he came to your place and took care of you. Both of you ended up falling asleep on your bed watching your comfort movie – actually, he wanted to read his book but ended up invested in the plot and eventually fell asleep before you, tired from his shift and nursing you back to health. You had enough strength to get up to pull out a freshly washed blanket from the closet and cover him. You lied back down, finding comfort in watching Zayne’s peaceful sleeping face. That’s how you fell asleep.

The next morning you found yourself waking up on Zayne’s chest, your form enveloping his. He was gently stroking your back, waiting for you to open your eyes. You don’t know whether you were the one that latched onto him during the night, or if he’s the one that pulled you in; nonetheless, it felt surreal to wake up like this. You looked up into his beautiful hazel green eyes, and you just shared a moment of pure intimacy. Then you got self-conscious of him having a close up of your morning face, which made you immediately jump from the bed and sprint to the bathroom. So, he did manage to nurse you back to health in one day.

You really wish he made the first move already. With all the stolen glances, lingering touches, cuddling, you genuinely think he feels the same way. But you are also his patient, so maybe he feels uncomfortable starting anything, like he’s crossing a boundary and abusing his position as your physician? Maybe he’s waiting for you to make the first move?

Or maybe you’re just delusional and ovulating.

Okay, back to the present. You’re not going to pass up the opportunity to see your crush (this is more than just a crush, honestly) and you add one more task to the list

get some dessert for Zayne

And you want to look cute for him, so you opt for your new backless summer dress.

☃︎⋆⁺₊☃︎⋆⁺₊☃︎⋆⁺₊

“Thank fuck, I look okay.” You murmur as you check yourself out in the mirror in the bathroom of Zayne's office.

It's just before 8pm, your scheduled checkup. Both of you were too busy to hang out for more than a week, and you can’t wait to see him. You took this opportunity to leave the heavy shopping bags on the sofa, the bag with dessert on his desk, and quickly freshen up in the bathroom. It was so hot today, still is, but thanks to the dress you didn't sweat that much.

You exit the bathroom the same time he enters the office. You catch how his usually stern gaze behind his glasses softens at the sight of you.

“Hey!” You don’t waste any time and shorten the distance between you, wrapping your arms around his neck giving him a peck on the cheek.

Zayne’s hands stiffly hover over your waist, stunned by the enthusiastic greeting. You always have a big smile on your face when you see him, but you’re only this forward when you have some alcohol in your system. He doesn’t smell it on your breath now though.

“Did you miss me that much, or are you trying to coax me to skip the check up?”

You pull away with a pout and a blush on your cheeks. Feeling a little embarrassed, you go and sit on a chair across his desk, steering the conversation towards the dessert you brought him.

With an entertained smirk, he sat on his chair and indulged in just chatting with you, and making plans for the evening. He feels at ease now that you’re here.

Zayne cuts the conversation short to take care of some paperwork, so you entertain yourself with your phone, checking what cafes are open. You sit there in silence, not wanting to disturb him. The room is air-conditioned and you would think you'd start to cool down, but it's impossible to do so when your crush is right across you. You try to focus on your phone but your eyes keep darting between the screen and Zayne’s handsome focused features…his hand holding the pen… his long fingers...

“You need to ask me something?” Zayne peers over his glasses.

Busted!

For like a hundredth time.

You fidget in your seat. “Um, no. I don’t wanna disturb you.”

He closes a file and puts papers aside. “I’m done. Go ahead.”

You make up how you wanted to ask him if he wanted to visit the café on your screen, only to for him to point out it’s closed when you show it to him. Not smooth at all.

You nervously scratch your back, and that when it hits you. You didn't wear a bra today!

In your defense, of course you're not going to wear a bra with the backless dress and when it's so hot outside, and it would be okay if this was just a hangout, but the main reason why you're here is because of the check up! Well, now you're getting even more flustered and you can feel nervous sweat forming everywhere. Great.

Zayne's voice fades into focus.

"Is everything okay?"

“Yeah, let’s just go find a cafe that’s nearby!” You prop yourself to sit up and make a run for it, but the seriousness in Zayne’s tone stops you.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

You wave your hand “I feel great, you don't need to -"

"That's good to hear." He humors you, setting the stethoscope around his neck, eyes not leaving yours.

You engage in a short staring contest, but you never win those with him. You hold back the bratty whine as you get up and walk towards the chair. Should you address this? What would be more awkward – saying that you don’t have a bra on or just slipping off the top of the dress, flashing him? But Zayne is a professional; he probably saw plenty of breasts from other patients and didn’t bat an eye. And maybe he even noticed that you’re braless.

You sit on the chair next to him and Zayne gives you an amused look. “Good girl.”

It was like a reflex - the moment you heard those words, your hands slipped off the top of your dress. Zayne pauses, his eyes locked at the sight before him. Oh shit, did you manage to make the situation awkward after all? Just when you wanted to open your mouth to say anything, he blinks and proceeds to do what he’s supposed to do. You suck in a breath when the icy cold stethoscope touches your chest spreading goosebumps across your skin, making your nipples hard. Zayne's eyes are focused somewhere to the side, but you can see light redness peppered on his cheeks. The two of you sit there in silence while he checks your heartbeat. You try to compose yourself, take slow breaths, but your heart is giving you away.

When he’s done, he takes off the instrument and places it on the table. He clears his throat “Nothing irregular, your heartbeat is a little faster, but the heat is probably to blame.”

Right, the heat.

You hope that the redness, still on his face, and his ears, is not from the sun.

Again, you have two choices – do you pull the top up and act like nothing happened, continue the same ‘will they, won’t they’ routine – or do you want to do something about this, take the first step and find out once and for all if this infatuation is one sided?

You take his hand, making him look at you, ‘Well, can you help me cool down, Doctor?’

Zayne eyes widen slightly, switching between your hand and your gaze, only guessing where you’re going with this.

You gently place his cold hand just above your left breast ‘Is this okay?’ you whisper.

Zayne’s irises are almost black from how dilated his pupils are. As he gazes into your doe eyes, the hand resting on your chest travels up across your skin and lands on the side of your neck. He takes off his glasses, leans towards you, his lips a breath away from yours, “You’re walking on thin ice, darling.”

He grabs you by the back of your neck and pulls you into a searing kiss. Zayne is kissing you like a man starved, like he's been waiting for this for so long, afraid that this moment will slip away all too quickly. His other hand wraps tightly around your waist, pulling you closer, pressing your chests together, feeling each other’s heartbeats. You moan into the kiss, surprised by the intensity of it and the desperation of his embrace. His lips are so soft and tender, just like you imagined too many times. The hand on your waist travels up to grab your breast, the sensation of his big cold hand on your heated skin making you gasp against his lips. He seizes the moment to lick your bottom lip, then slipping his tongue, yours quickly meeting it.

Suddenly, both of his hands land on your shoulders pulling away.

He utters ‘fuck’ (this might be the first time hearing him say the f word, and you’re embarrassed how excited it made you.) He holds your chin with thumb and index finger, ‘Do you wish to continue?’

You utter ‘yes’ and grab him by the black necktie locking your lips again. His hands find the top of your thighs, then sneaking their way down to bunch up your dress over your knees.

“Hold onto me.” He murmurs between kisses, and you oblige, catching onto his shoulders. Zayne grabs you by the back of your soft thighs, lifting you from the chair and placing you on his desk, so effortlessly and swiftly, like you weigh nothing.

Your fingers comb through his soft, thick hair, relishing in the fact of being able to touch it like this. His hands cup your face, distancing his lips from yours. You expectantly look up to see his tender, yearning gaze. He looks like he’s about to say something, but then he kisses you again, this time softly, slowly deepening it, stealing your breath away. His soft lips move to kiss and nip at the side of your neck, his hands giving attention to your breasts again. He caresses both of them, and it doesn’t take long for one of his hands to be replaced by his lips. His hot tongue teases around the nipple. But when he starts sucking on it, while simultaneously playing with the other one with his fingers, a loud moan escapes your lips.

Zayne’s smirks against the sensitive nipple, “You need to stay quiet, darling.”

You were so dazed with lust that you completely forgot that there could be people outside his office. You bite your bottom lip and nod.

He nuzzles into the crook of your neck, one hand bunching up your dress more and resting on your hip, while the one on your nipple sneaks its way down, teasing the band of your underwear. You feel his fingers slide down, rubbing you over your soaked panties, making you move your hips, craving more friction.

“Fuck.” He breathes against your ear, “You’re already so wet for me.”

The fingers travel towards the band of your underwear and tug on it, and you lift your hips to let him slide it down your legs. Then he stashes your panties into the pocket of his pants.

He catches you by surprise when he kneels down in front of your cunt, your legs closing on reflex, but Zayne grabs your thighs before they could squish his head.

He gently strokes them, "Let me see you."

You’re hesitant about it, but you remember that you took extra steps when you freshened up in the bathroom. Slowly, you spread your legs, lifting your feet to rest on the edge of the desk. Cool air against your soaked pussy sends shivers all over your body.

His hands rest on the plush of your inner thighs. His eyes are mesmerized by the sight in front of him. You almost feel self-conscious by the close-up he’s getting.

"Zayne –" You squirm under his stare.

Snapping out of his daze, he meets your eyes "I’m sorry. You’re just so much more beautiful than I imagined."

Than he imagined? The statement makes your cheeks even deeper red, your pussy more wet and impatient.

Feeling impatient himself, Zayne starts by placing gentle kisses on your inner thigh. The hand on the opposite side follows the same trail, his slender fingers stopping to tease your wet folds, the contact making you gasp and involuntarily clench your thighs.

"Relax, angel." His breath fans over your pussy, not making it easier but you try anyway.

The digits slowly glide over the wetness, bathing in your juices. Your hips flinch as his fingertips lightly circle your clit, thighs trembling as digits are replaced with his hot tongue. It glides flat over your folds, stopping to circle the sensitive nub. The tip of the tongue flicks over it, circles it, again and again, your cunt dripping with both his saliva and your arousal. His middle finger slides in, ring finger shortly after, curling to reach and rub that delicate spot inside you; he sucks and licks your clit while finger fucking you, and your thighs are now shaking, toes curling, as intense waves of pleasure course through your body.

Your hold onto Zayne’s hair, and roll your hips in the same rhythm of his fingers, chasing your release, "Zayne… I’m gonna–"

He locks eyes with you and continues what he’s doing; you come shortly after, covering your mouth with your hand.

Zayne helps you come down from your high, places soft pecks on your thighs again and stands up, pulling you into another breathtaking kiss.

Your hands frantically find his belt and start unbuckling it.

Zayne breaks the kiss, ‘I don’t have any condoms here.’

You shrug ‘Just pull out.’

‘That’s not very respo – ‘

‘Well, you’re a doctor; you can prescribe me some plan b pills.’ you innocently flutter your lashes.

He chuckles and starts taking off his tie and shirt, and you take a moment to gaze at the strong, chiseled muscles of his torso, his arms and those shoulders. Zayne, amused at your dazed and shameless ogling of his  shirtless physique, reaches down to unzip his pants, taking them and underwear off in the same go, his hard cock smacking against his shaved pelvis. You suck in a breath when your eyes land on it. He's long and thick, curved just right, tip glistening with so much precum. You hand wraps around it, stroking and feeling the pulsing veins under your touch.

Zayne’s breath hitches ‘Are you sure – fuck…’ He groans when you press his length against your slippery folds, teasingly moving your hips.

‘Yes… I need you.’

With those magic words, Zayne swipes all the papers off the table, grabs you behind the knees and lifts your legs further, and you lean back to rest on your elbows.

His dick strokes your slit, tip teasing the entrance, but you're so impatient.

'Zaynee-' you whine.

He closes his eyes, jaw clenched. Even though your ‘friend’ is the embodiment of calm and collected, right now he’s barely holding onto his composure. His flushed cheeks and red ears, ragged breathing are exposing how badly he wanted, needed, this and how he’s trying so hard not to cum right here before even slipping the tip in.

But he doesn’t want to wait any longer; with your needy whines spurring him on, he places his red cockhead against you, your drenched pussy making it easy to slide it in.

His leg muscles tremble, trying to restrain himself from bottoming out the same second; with shallow thrusts, he slowly slides it all the way in. He towers over you, one hand resting on the desk, the other cupping your face. His hips roll at languid pace, his hooded eyes never leaving your face, watching you adjust to his size.

As you get comfortable, you grab him by back of his neck “Faster, please…” You breathe. He leans down, locking your lips into a sloppy kiss.

He slowly picks up the pace, his hand starts playing with your nipples again, and now it's really hard keep your voice down. You keep breaking the kiss in desperate need to catch your breath, but moans escape your lips as well. Zayne grabs your upper arms and pushes you down further. His muscular torso pressed against yours, his pelvis rubbing against your clit.

“Zayne - I'm close”

“Try to stay quiet, angel.” he grunts, his eyes locked on your face, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. He angles himself so his hand can reach down and rub your clit, and it’s too much for you - you cum a few seconds later and Zayne has to slip two fingers of his other hand into your mouth to keep you from screaming. You still whimper and moan over his fingers. He slows down to help you ride out the orgasm, and pulls out the fingers to kiss your lips.

'Is it okay to pick up the pace now? I'm so close.'

You only nod, unable to form any words. He plants a kiss on your temple and moves onto kissing and sucking your neck. Then he goes back to just looking at your face while he picks up the pace, your legs locking around his waist, pulling him even deeper. You bite your bottom lip, but at this point, you feel it's impossible to stay quiet. And now it's not only you who is making noise, but the desk, although sturdy, is starting to move and creak.

You gasp as he suddenly lifts you off the table with his big arms wrapped around your torso. You wrap your arms around his neck, holding onto him. His hands grabs your ass and starts moving your hips in unison with his, his throbbing dick thrusting so much deeper, all the juices leaking down his balls and onto the floor.

You latch your teeth onto his neck to keep yourself from screaming while he’s panting feverishly into your ear.

‘I’m gonna come soon –‘

You meet his gaze ‘Don’t pull out.’

His hips stutter at your words, eyes widening for a second. He curses under his breath and picks up the pace. You pull him into a sloppy kiss, lewd gasps and pants interrupting.

His hands squeezing your ass in a bruising grip, he grunts against your lips, and you feel intense throbbing of his cock; warm liquid filling you up, sending shivers all over your sweaty body.

His slow pumps let his thick cum drip out, making a mess of his pants and the floor. You can feel how fast his heart is beating against your chest. The two of you catch your breath as your lips share a languid kiss, enjoying the warmth of each other’s bodies.

After pulling out, Zayne sits you on his chair. He kneels in front of you, caresses your cheek, his eyes full of adoration. “I never thought our first time would look like this.”

You lean into his palm, looking at him with sweet innocent eyes, “Oh? What did you imagine then?”

“I can show you later.”

[sassy-stupid]

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ Under The Stars ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

♡︎ pairing: Xavier x fem!reader

｡°⚠︎°｡MINORS DNI (18+ ONLY)｡°⚠︎°｡

♡︎cw:unprotected sex, tent sex, semi-public sex, oral sex (male receiving), dry humping, pussy job, cum swallowing

♡︎word count: 3.9k

♡︎synopsis: What happens when you share a tent with your crush? The story starts where the memory Precious Bonfire ends.

♡︎a/n: I wrote this during my ovulation week. Also, I went over this once, so if you see any mistakes, no you don't.

♡︎ special thanks to my beta reader ♡︎@its-de♡︎ for reading and helping me with this!

banner by @cafekitsune

Xavier looks up from the game card “Ah, I figured out what I want my payment to be.” He smiles softly at you and hands you the card, “Tell me when you’re overwhelmed next time.”

A little confused, you absent-mindedly take the card that’s not even yours. “That doesn’t sound like a payment.”

“Well, it is.”

“No, it’s not. Think of something else!” You say with playfulness in your voice. Of course you don’t mind accepting to “pay him off” in this way, but he’s been so helpful and resourceful today, that you’d feel bad for asking for more assistance.

He just shakes his head and stands up from his seat in the camping van, and walks away. End of discussion, I guess.

୧ ‧₊˚ 🍓 ⋅ ☆

You spent a few minutes sitting alone in the van, decompressing, but also thinking of ways to return the favor. Seriously, what’s a good way to show him your gratitude? You know he’s not doing this because he expects something in return. Xavier is a genuine and sweet soul, someone who is reliable (except in the kitchen) with a soothing presence. He never seems overwhelmed, even when he lights his oven on fire.

You sigh wistfully. You were hoping he was going to say “Let’s go on a date!” or “Can I sleep in your tent?” or maybe “You know, the front of my pants is feeling a little tight, could you lend me a hand –“ you blush, hiding your face in your hands. If only.

You glance at your phone to look at the time. You decide you’ve spent enough time away from everyone, letting your mind wander – how big is it? – okay, you really need to focus and go back to your colleagues.

୧ ‧₊˚ 🍓 ⋅ ☆

The rest of the evening went uneventful – you hung out with your friends, cleaned up the mess and then took a relaxing shower. Somewhere between cleaning up and the shower, you swiped a pack of chocolate covered strawberries from the mafia game winner. You wanted those strawberries the moment your eyes landed on them in that pile of snacks.  And you’ll buy them later and give them back, so technically you’re borrowing them!

Besides, you want to give them to Xavier as a small thank you. He deserves more than this, but it will do for now.

Anyway, after the refreshing shower, you’re looking around the campsite. Most of your colleagues are cozying up in their tents, only a few still talking and drinking outside. Where’s Xavier?

You saw him earlier hanging out with others, but now… your eyes land on his figure, lounging by a tree away from all the tents.

You approach him. “There’s no way I’m letting you sleep outside.”

Xavier, not opening his eyes, says “I have no problem sleeping outside.”

“Well, as the captain of this group, I very much do.” You extend your arm towards him “C’mon, you can sleep in my tent.”

He opens his eyes as he hears the offer. “Are you – “

You grab his hand, “Yes, the tent is big enough for the two of us.” You suddenly remember that you only brought one blanket, but this summer night is nice and breezy so it shouldn’t be an issue.

Hesitant at first, Xavier nods and gets up while holding your hand. He moves his backpack to your tent and goes to take a shower, giving you time to change into pajama shorts and tank top; not really appropriate in this situation, but who cares!

As you spread out the blanket over the sleeping mat and two pillows, (yes, two, the other one was meant for your knees), you sit there waiting for him and then you realize – wow, it’s kinda fucking cold in here!

You were so focused on being a good captain and taking care of everyone that it completely slipped your mind that you should pack warmer pajamas and maybe a sleeping bag; it doesn’t matter that it’s summer, nights are always colder in the woods.

As you wonder if the blanket will be warm enough, from the corner of your eye you notice Xavier approaching the tent. He’s wearing a loose white t-shirt and gray cotton shorts. You move a little to make room for him, and when he crouches to step inside, your eyes are glued to his muscular legs. The staring makes you miss the way Xavier’s eyes take in your figure, the smooth skin of your thighs and your pebbled nipples poking underneath your top.

You quickly shift your gaze to his face; he’s looking around the tent. Suddenly you’re nervous. It hits you that you’ll be sleeping next to Xavier in this small ass tent. You feel an awkward tension, so you say “I hope this is enough room for you! I don’t have one more blanket but I do have an extra pillow!”

Xavier chuckles, and gives you a reassuring smile. “It’s good enough for me. I just hope you’re comfortable with this.”

“Of course I am!” You say very convincingly. As you nervously shift, your thigh grazes the box of strawberries. Right, I almost forgot! You take them and offer the box to him. “Here, a small token of my gratitude.”

He eyes the fruit, not taking them immediately. “Where did you get those?”

“The winner gave them to me.”

“Really?”

“I stole them.” You say with a shy smile. Some things are just impossible to hide from him.

He chuckles, “I’ll take them, but only if you have some as well.”

You agree and he opens the box, placing it between you two.

You’re the first one to try them, and you’re so pleased that your little crime paid off. And by Xavier’s little mm!  you know that he enjoys the sweetness of chocolate and the strawberries as well. You sit there for a while, eating and chatting about whatever; mostly about the books he’s been reading and the new game both of you started playing.

You don’t feel that tired anymore. It’s probably the shower that washed away all the fatigue of the day. And the adrenaline from talking, not only talking but sharing a tent and then later sleeping next to your crush. You’re actually so excited you could run laps around the campsite, but at the same time so flustered you don’t know what to do with yourself.

After you take another bite of the fruit, you notice that Xavier’s eyes are lingering on your lips? No, your cheek?

His hand slowly goes towards your face, and you stand still, unsure of what he wants. His ring finger gently wipes the corner of your mouth.

He smiles, “You had some chocolate there.”

When he’s about to lick his finger, you joke “Hey! You’re taking my chocolate!”

He stops for a second, looks at the finger, then at you. “You’re right. Do you want it back?” He asks with that teasing glint in his eyes as he holds the digit in front of your lips.

You’re stunned for a moment, trying to read the situation. Does he really want you to lick it off?

Okay, you can play along; with your eyes on his, you start to lick the chocolate. Xavier’s eyes widen for a split second, his lips slightly part as he watches you lick and suck his finger clean. It made his shorts tighter, and he hopes that you don’t notice the outline of his erection on his gray shorts.

And you’re so frustrated at yourself because of how wet this little interaction made you.

When you’re done, with a light blush on his cheeks, he pulls back his hand and clears his throat. “You’re really good at this.”

You only sheepishly smile and continue the conversation like nothing happened.  

୧ ‧₊˚ 🍓 ⋅ ☆

“You didn’t bring a sleeping bag?” Xavier asks as you as you both get ready to sleep. It’s gotten late, it’s dead silent as everyone around you is sleeping or trying to fall asleep. You’re surprised that Xavier managed to stay awake this long.

You admit that you forgot the fact that it’s colder at night here than back in the city. “But the blanket should be big enough for both of us.” You offer to go ask someone for one more blanket, but he refuses and says that he’s worried about you being cold.

His eyes scan over your barely covered body “I can borrow you my hoodie. But it smells like campfire.”

“I’m gonna to be fine. Let’s just go to sleep.” You reassure him (and yourself). With that, both of you lie down, your backs turned, and cover yourself with a blanket that is not enough for two people.

Xavier lets you take most of it, but tries to not make it obvious, so he holds onto it, only his back covered.

Ten, fifteen, maybe twenty minutes pass, you don’t know. You just can’t fall asleep. Not only because your ass is freezing, but because he is lying right next to you. And judging by his deep breathing, he’s asleep. Of course he is. You turn on your back and stare at the stars peeking through the mesh screen of the tent. You don’t want to move around too much or step outside because you don’t want to wake him. He’s had an exhausting day too.

You turn on your side, facing his back. You can’t see much in the dark tent, the only light source being the moon and the stars, and faint fairy lights outside. But it’s visible enough to admire his light fluffy hair and how wide his back is. You crave to trace your fingers over his shirt, through his hair… you completely took over the blanket!

You cover his figure, but then you’re a little exposed. With a sigh, you move closer to him as quietly as possible. Now, time to turn around in the same manner. But, Xavier is already switching to his other side, turning to you, and you’re so close, almost nose to nose and he opens his eyes.

You’re holding in your breath, freezing in place. “Sorry.” You whisper. “I just wanted to cover you.”

His sleepy eyes stare at yours, then at your lips. It takes him a second to register your words. “You’re still awake?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you cold?”

You take second before answering “Maybe.”

“Turn around.”

You do as you’re told expecting him to roll you into the blanket like a burrito and then you’d feel really bad. Those thoughts evaporate when you feel his warm arm slip around your waist, pulling your back against his strong, yet soft, chest, while his lower body keeps a respectful distance.

His breath tickles the skin of your neck, making you shiver. “Is this okay?”

You only muster a squeaky ‘mhm’, and then he falls silent again, with his face nuzzled against your neck. You close your eyes, and try to count sheep.

One sheep…two sheep… your arm gets uncomfortable so you place it over his that’s resting on your waist, the contact making his hand search your hand, entangling his fingers with yours, and then pulling you in a tighter embrace.

Exhaling a shuttering breath, you continue… three sheep… you’ve been keeping your legs pin straight this whole time and they’re starting to feel stiff and sore. But if you bend them, they’ll be exposed to cold air, but if you curl up you’ll be pressing your butt against Xavier’s crotch, or at least lower belly.

Four sheep…

The gentle whisper of your name against your ear makes you yelp. You thought he fell asleep.

Xavier repeats your name, and you can hear the smirk on his lips “Position yourself however you please. I want you to be comfortable.”

You exhale a breath you’ve been holding. “Okay.”

You move into the fetus position, making yourself as comfortable as possible, warm in his embrace, your bottom keeping an awkward distance from his lower half.  You bite your bottom lip and try to regulate your breathing. He can probably feel how fast your heart is beating. You think how it’s unfair that he can feel how flustered you are.

You feel his slow heartbeat, but you can’t see his feverish red cheeks.

“Is it better now?” He asks.

“Yeah, it’s just that...” It’s just that your legs and buttocks are still cold.

When you don’t finish your sentence, he nudges your neck with his nose. “Your legs are cold.”

The hand on your waist moves and his fingers lightly glide over your upper thigh. When you don’t protest, he starts caressing, warming up your skin. The contact makes you hot between your legs, making you unconsciously rub your thighs and arch your back, your butt backing up against his front. 

You immediately flinch, jolting your middle forward outside the covers. “Sorry.” You mumble, your cheeks burning in embarrassment, your body staying in that awkward position.

Xavier can’t help but laugh at the position you’re in. He rubs your shoulder in an attempt to console you. “It’s okay. I don’t mind”

It takes you a few seconds to muster up the courage to go back under the cover, closing the distance between your bodies, letting him spoon you.

You feel like you could melt in his arms; he’s so warm, smells like fresh linen and herbal hair shampoo. Even though you’re still nervous, your body is able to relax and press further against him, unintentionally grinding your soft bottom against his quickly hardening length.

Your pussy clenches as you feel his clothed hard dick against you. He doesn’t say anything, but shift a little further from you.

You don’t know if it’s the weariness, the horniness, or the boldness (if you can call it that), that makes you whisper. “It’s okay. I don’t mind.” And you close the distance again, this time slowly sliding your ass against him to prove your point.

A shuddering breath leaves his lips, as he starts moving at your pace. He shifts to rest on his elbow and his hand moves up to cup your cheek, and you turn to face him, your hips halting the movement.

He gazes into your eyes and nudges the tip of your nose with his. He softly breathes your name and his soft warm lips leave a feather light kiss on yours. He waits for your reaction with those puppy eyes that always make you weak.

With the hand that was under you, you hold the side of his face and pull him into a soft kiss. Your lips softly graze and nip as Xavier adjusts his body, elbows resting on either side of your head, his chest resting against yours, but his pelvis is hovering against yours.

You decide to be the one to take the next step; fingers of one hand run through his hair as you deepen the kiss, your tongue glosses his bottom lip and slipping inside, tasting his. The other hand pushes down his lower back, and he takes the hint.

You gasp into the kiss as his dick grinds right between your clothed folds, grazing your clit just right. Your cheeks and core are burning as Xavier starts rutting waster and harder, you can feel his heartbeat pounding against your chest. Both of you are panting between kisses, suppressing moans and whines.

He breathes against your lips “We should stop.” When he notices a flash of disappointment on your face, he adds, “It’s so easy to hear everything here.”

You nod. “Yeah, you’re right.” You gulp and take in deep breaths. Your tent is the furthest from the rest, but still close enough to hear if someone is getting it on.

He rolls over to his side, still facing you. His eyes take in your features as his fingertips graze over them. He pulls you in by the back of your head into a slow kiss. Your lips taste each other, tongues licking, his teeth playfully nibbling your bottom lip.

The hand on the back of your hand travels over your jaw to hold your chin, and a deep sigh leaves his lips. He whispers, “It’s so hard to hold back.” and the continues tasting your plump lips.

Those words make your panties wetter than they were. You throw your leg over his hips and soon you’re straddling him, and his arms envelop you, pressing your body flush against his, his hips bucking up to meet yours once again.

But you crave more contact and so does Xavier. At the same time, Xavier pulls down his shorts and you take off yours. A whimper escapes your lips as you sit back down on his rock hard dick, your sexes only separated by thin fabric.

He pulls you into a deep, hungry kiss, his hands grabbing your ass, moving your hips in the same rhythm with his. The friction feels so good, too good. Your pussy is creaming so much, making a mess of your panties and his boxer briefs. Then he shifts his hips a little and his cockhead starts hitting and rubbing your clit over and over, and you’re mewling and panting into the sloppy kiss.

He smirks against your lips. “Honey, I need you to stay quiet. I don’t want anyone else to hear you like this.”

The heat pools in the bottom of belly. “Xavier, I’m close.”

“Yeah? Is my little bunny feeling good?” He pants, and by the twitching of his cock, you think he’s close too.

You hold back a disappointed whine when he puts a distance between your hips, but then you feel him push down his boxers freeing his throbbing dick. He pulls your panties to the side and brings your hips back down, your dripping pussy lips sliding against his thick length, and he immediately locks your lips with his, swallowing your moan.

He has you in a tight embrace, one hand on the plump flesh of your ass and the other on the back of your neck. His lips leave a wet trail from your lips over your jaw to the shell of your ear, and you listen to his restrained pants and grunts.

His hot breath fans over your ear “Let’s come together.” He pulls up both of your shirts a bit, and you feel his hard ab muscles tensing against your skin.

You can only nod as the tip starts hitting your clit again, and in a few seconds you’re coming undone on top of him, hiding your face in the crook of his neck, muffling your moans.

Xavier follows shortly after, his cum spilling over both of your bellies.

You take a moment to calm down and you notice that he’s still as hard. You come up to meet his gaze.

His eyes are veiled with so much lust and craving. “I – “

“Please, fuck me.” You need more.

With those three magic words, he’s on top of you again, his shirt and the blanket disregarded somewhere in the corner. He pushes your tank top over your breasts, his hot lips latching onto your nipple while his fingers play with the other one, while his cock is sliding with ease between your slippery folds.

You know that he wants to prep you more, but you feel like you’ve been edged for too long, your hole clenching around nothing.

Xavier’s breath hitches against your nipple when you reach down and wrap your hand around his member, feeling how long and thick he is (he’s longer than your thought).

He comes up and holds your gaze as you tease the tip against your soaking entrance “I need you now.”

His hand switches with yours, slowly easing into you, his gaze never leaving yours. He swallows thickly, and cursing under his breath as he feels your walls clench around him.

And you’re a mess under him, biting your lip to contain your moans and whines, but your pussy is already fluttering around his length, second orgasm building up.

When he’s finally buried to the hilt, he rests his body on top of yours, neither of you caring about the slippery cum between you, if anything it spurs you on even more.

He slowly starts rolling his hips, his lips leaving open mouth kisses over your collar bone and your neck. You fingers find purchase in his hair and nails lightly scrape the skin over his taut back muscles. In your daze you take a moment to admire his strong back and then you move your hand from his back to grab his biceps. Fuck, you wish there was more light here.

Xavier’s lips lock with yours in a sloppy kiss, his tip grazing your sweet spot with every thrust while his fingertips rub your sensitive bundle of nerves. His voice is raspy from all the strangled groans, “You’re squeezing me so hard, princess. Are you gonna come for me?”

You only manage a small moan in response, and you don’t even care if you’re loud. And the wet smacking of his pelvis against your creamy cunt is already giving you away.

You barely give any warning as suddenly another orgasm crashes over you, his free hand covering your mouth. He coos in your ear that’s right and you’re so pretty and sweet names that you barely register as you whimper against his hand and your pussy spasms around his cock.

As you come down from your high, he picks up the pace and soon you notice him twitching inside you, his hips stuttering and his pants becoming shallower.

He murmurs “Where do you want me?”

You fight back the urge to say ‘inside’, you want him to fill you up so bad, but now is not the place to make that kind of mess.

Still, you don’t want spill it outside. “Use my mouth.”

His face burns and his dick painfully throbs at those words. You rest on your elbows as he pulls out and straddles your waist, his hand resting on your head.

You let him guide the tip past your lips, and you swirl your tongue around it tasting your mixed juices. He swallows a moan as you take him in deeper; swollen lips enveloping his cock, tongue swirling, tasting him, and grazing his pulsing veins, and he can’t help the pang of jealousy that hits him with how good you’re at this.

Pushing those thoughts back, he caresses your cheekbone with his thumb. “You’re taking me so good.”

He starts thrusting, unable to hold back much longer. He whispers between pants “Tap my arm if I go too hard.”

You hum against his length, focused on relaxing your throat as his cockhead starts hitting more and more with each thrust and stutter of his hips.

You feel him throb hard in your mouth, and his hand travels under your chin. You hear him demand with a strangled groan “Look at me.”

Your eyes lock with his, the sight of you sucking him in with a fucked-out face making him tip over the edge, filling your mouth with his hot cum.

He takes shaky breaths as he twitches in your mouth as you suck him and swallow each drop, not letting anything go to waste.

After he pulls out, he sits next to you and gives you a chaste kiss on the lips.

He holds your face in his hands, his nose nudging yours. “Are you okay?”

You nod and kiss him again. And then you feel cold air hit the wet spots on your body. You chuckle “We need to get cleaned up, though.”

With that, you wipe yourselves with wipes and dress up to make an awkward walk towards the bathroom. You just hope that no one heard what you were doing in the tent. Or the shower.

[sassy-stupid]

Pool

Zayne❄ + MC🌙 + feat Rafayel🐟

[sassy-stupid]

178 cm - elbert

181 cm - harrison

179 cm - liam and alfons

180 cm - william

183.5 cm - victor

182 cm - ellis

177 cm - jude

183 cm - roger

#i did guess right! #i like ellis best :) #and 182 is like a height i think id rly like for a man #just that good 5 cm taller

[sassy-stupid]

Milkman says: "Mmm... Enough.😐"

[sassy-stupid]

#big ass boobs #literally the only time im certain about something like this lmfao #im a g cup lmao #sometimes h depending on the bandsize #boobs nearly as big as the backproblems they cause me

[sassy-stupid]

I LOVE YOUR ART STYLE! Can you please draw sugawara from haikyuu!! Thank youuu!!

okay

[sassy-stupid]

𝐖𝐀𝐗 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒.

✶ yandere! sunday x gn. reader — wc. 2.8k

summary. his complacency has its limits, and now you’ve strayed too far from your cage, head filled with fanciful dreams, casting aside the world he had built to contain you in blind reach for the skies. but as much as you may dream to fly, you are no more than icarus — he will ensure your fall, to remind you where your heart truly lies, because what are you, without your wings?

notes. i haven’t played the penacony quest yet idk how the dreamscape things work lol

“A gift for you.”

You turn your head from the window to face the owner of the voice standing in the shadow of the doorway. You’re met with a pair of golden eyes — ones you know all too well by now, a placated smile dancing across his lips, as a servant wheels in something on a covered cart.

Your own eyes follow it with a look of narrowed suspicion as it comes to a stop in front of you. “What is it?”

You’ve learnt not to accept gifts from strangers. Especially from someone like him, who parades himself as some charitable saint — you’re not the first in his line of victims to be met with that same disconcerting smile that has charmed thousands equally well with similar acts. 

No matter how much he showers you with generosity and priceless gifts, suffocating you with all he owns — you still have some sense within you to retain your wits, however faint they’ve grown with his overbearing presence slowly chipping away at you. He is no lover of yours, bearing these gifts. 

First and foremost, he is still your captor — and it is still his roof that you’re trapped beneath. 

“May I?” He indicates with his hand. 

You don’t say anything further, hardly acknowledging him. You’re tempted to turn back around and resume your daydreaming, itself the smallest of resistances you can offer amid everything he holds over you. You know it’s futile nonetheless — he doesn’t need your permission anyways, stepping into the room and striding over to you. 

Sunday approaches you slowly, footsteps silent against the carpeted floor, eyes darting between you and your unmoving position by the window. Each footfall, each breath is marked with the same wariness that flashes across your own irises. Unease roils in your gut, itself one of the few things he cannot eradicate completely, when you know of what he’s done, and what he’s capable of. 

The halo that rests atop his head gleams with an almost blinding luminescence as he steps into the light, reflected from the rays of the afternoon sun filtering through the windows. He looks almost ethereal, divine even, as if he could truly move the world with nothing but a thought — despite being the furthest from any angelic being of good. 

The notion he can, remains nonetheless. Everything that surrounds you is of his craft, his own thoughts and dreams made into this delicate cage. But he cannot move you as easily — you are not a nameless jewel among his dreamscape able to be carved and shaped to his will, yourself a figurine of glass he so desperately wants to preserve flawlessly, refusing to expose you to the elements. 

He wants to appease you, in his own strange way. And who are you to deny him in anything he does, when the world you stand upon is in his hands? 

“You didn’t appear to be very fond of the jewellery I got you last time.” Sunday starts. You flinch, as he rests his gloved hand on your shoulder, reaching around you to tug at the cloth. “I thought maybe something more familiar to you would be better received.” 

“Familiar?” You echo hoarsely, as you turn your head, forcing yourself to spare a glance at what lay beneath the now uncovered cloth. 

It’s just a cage, you realise a second later, shoulders slumping forward as you heave a sigh. It seems to be holding nothing more than what appears to be some sort of feathered bird that takes you a brief moment to recognise. 

“I remember you were telling me about them long ago.” He continues on unperturbed, gesturing to the bird that sits idly in the cage, inviting you to take a closer look. “Their melodies were quite nice.” 

“Right...” You wince at the memory. 

It’s like a distant dream to you now, one that you had wanted to forget, despite having clung to you for all your life, itself a hell comparable to this one. They had circled in the skies overhead, up and and away from it all, freer than any other within that world.

Yet now like you, it too appears to have strayed a long way from such, to be trapped in the confines of this cage. 

But they’ve had a taste of freedom. To you, it has been nothing more than a wishful dream, eyes having been set upon those same skies. Perhaps to be made of human flesh was a curse, chained down by a nightmarish world who denies such dreams. 

He had found you then. 

As to you, who hadn’t seen a world beyond these skies, trapped in a cold hellhole that housed nothing but the vain and cruel beings you cannot bring yourself to embrace — he had appeared as your saving grace. A guardian angel almost, wings of purest white flaring out behind him, and eyes of the brightest living gold that had left you transfixed as he spun such sweet promises from his lips.

It’s what he intends, to leave you clinging to his words, enraptured by his being, to take you someplace safe forever. 

Somewhere where no other hands can ever be laid upon you, nor any eyes cast upon you except his own. Because when you look at him so hopefully, as if he is truly some divine being — one that had descended from these far reaching heavens you had once looked up towards amid a starless sky, he ensures he is the only god you believe in. 

Alas, gods too could be selfish. You crave freedom amid the skies, yet he wants nothing but to cling to you, to treasure as his own, first and foremost. Insincerity frames such promises, faltering momentarily in its partial truth — yet you had taken his hand willingly that day, believing him to be your saviour from this cruel world.  

But not for the next, the one you now stand upon with him as your captor. Too late, do you realise you've merely traded one cage for another — and now you’re alone in this world. 

“I can’t accept this.” You force yourself to say, pushing his arm off you. He watches you stride back to the window, peering outside where birds of similar colour had gathered, making their way across the skies. 

You don’t spare a glance back at Sunday. A frown crosses his face at your abrupt reaction. You’re doing it again — pushing him away. He doesn’t understand why you always turn away from him, always looking upwards at something else instead, as if nothing beside you impresses you. Isn’t everything he’s done for you? 

He tries again. “Is it not to your liking? I chose the finest one out of all those ones out there. Would you prefer one of those, if that’s what it is?” 

“There’s no guarantee those ones will sing though. Of the ones caught, most didn’t make a noise.” He adds. 

You scoff then, as stating an obvious fact. “You cannot expect a caged bird to sing.” 

Perhaps he’s brought this pet in as a mockery of your own predicament, but you intend to tell him likewise. For are you too not trapped within a cage of your own? He cannot expect you to be complacent when you sit so restlessly, knowing freedom lies in sight, itself a reflection in your eyes, whilst the rest of your body is chained, tethered by his sole fixation.

“But a caged bird is at the mercy of its master is it not?” He hums, yet it’s devoid of the previous pleasantry in his voice as he steps up next to you.  

Your eyes slide to the side. You don’t say anything, carefully weighing your words as he rests his hand atop your own.

“If it does not wish to sing, there are other ways to make it do so. Perhaps it will respond kindly to some encouragement and reward, it is the most favourable way after all.” 

He pauses, and you feel his grip tighten ever so slightly. 

“Yet if all else fails, I suppose more ah, drastic measures can be taken. Don’t you agree Y/N?” He tilts his head innocently in your direction, as you stare back at him blankly. 

“I-” You swallow thickly. “There’s no need to resort to such means.” 

“Hm. I hope not either.” He flashes you a knowing look. “It would be a real shame to see.” 

Sure it would, you think dejectedly in your head. It proves nothing more than the fact he is willing to harm anything that threatens to break from his control, to challenge his absolute authority over this place. You’ve seen through his subterfuges of pretending to be some divine being one owes their reverence to. 

He’s making little effort to hide it now after all. 

“Anyways,” he sighs, before you can form a coherent response to his chilling words, the grip on your hand loosening. “I shall bother you no longer. I have other important things to attend to. I bid you a good day.”

“Enjoy your gift.” Sunday smiles, bending down to brush his lips against the back of your hand, before sauntering out of the room. 

---

You wait for the door to click shut before you loose a breath, wiping the back of your hand with a handkerchief with palpable disgust. It’s slimy, almost comparable to a snake even. You throw it aside without a second thought, slowly walking over to the cage that had been sitting here the entire time, careful not to startle the bird inside. 

It truly is a magnificent bird, one of the most beautiful you’ve ever seen — and truly, it doesn’t deserve to languish in such a cage forever, while the rest of its kind soar freely in the skies outside. Unlike your own circumstances, their master is merciful. 

You throw open the window, closing your eyes in a contented sigh as you feel a soft breeze rush in for a brief moment. It’s the most you can ever enjoy, as you look down at the levels below you, and then the objects in the room before you. He’s been careful with his gifts, there’s no rope, nor anything that can aid an escape, having filled it with nothing but pointless vanity. 

Turning your attention back to the matter at hand, you find the key lying on a folded cloth next to the cage, carved of pure gold, but the detail is dismissed in your eyes, jamming it into the lock and twisting it open. 

It opens with a click, swinging out, and before you even have time to think about it, much less regret the consequences of your decision — it bursts from the cage in a flurry of golden feathers and a derisive chirp, darting straight for the window, into the open air, towards its freedom. 

You watch as it flies off in a streak of gold into the sunset with a sad smile — unaware of a pair of similarly coloured eyes also intently watching its path across the skies from elsewhere. 

---

For you dreamt you were the one flying, soaring against the endless expanse of the sky, as the world below seemed to shrink into infinitesimal nothingness. And how you marvelled at that feeling, of freedom and joyous harmony, as you rose in this long reminisced ascent, following the paths of the same birds whom you had once watched from afar.

As these wings you flew upon, they were truly magnificent. Beneath the light of day, they reflected silvery hues and the outline of the stars itself, as if it had captured the essence of the universe within a singular canvas of white. 

You could almost laugh, rising past the clouds, away from the one who had attempted to keep you trapped in the world below. The heavens were in your sights, and the desire to go further almost as blinding as its highest point, of planetary bodies suspended amidst the stars, its beauty drawing you ever so closer.  

But in a world of dreams, he wishes you would dream otherwise, standing in witness to your thoughts that have never lingered upon him, brushing past in reach for a distant wish he has denied you time and time again. He’ll endeavour to stop you each time — for you’ll leave him otherwise. 

As one had reached towards that beyond, they had forgotten all that was once behind them, having paid no mind to the angered retribution flying their way — only having sought to look forward, to bask in the light of ephemeral glory and blissful freedom. 

Pray, has one heard the story of dear Icarus?

Laughter that was not yours echoed within your mind, as if whoever knew something you didn’t — the only warning you had gotten as the world turned dark, and fire had arced through you, eliciting a pained scream from your lips. 

Because you had indeed forgotten, blinded by the stars in your eyes, that you truly held no freedom when all that surrounds you is nothing more than a dream. Just as quickly, do such wings of feathered gold suspended by a thousand winds, turn to the failings of wax, when met with the hand of the one who had weaved such dreams. 

He stands there, the mocking voice in your head, molten wax dripping from his hands to announce how one’s sojourn would inevitably come to an end, whilst the wings upon his own back remain ones of arcing magnificence, his existence blinding in the rays of the sun, worthy of a being whom guards the gates of this heavenly realm. 

Yet there’s nothing but the cruel smile that paints his lips, aureate eyes gleaming viciously in light of his true nature. 

“No.” You breathe, eyes widening. 

You reach a hand out to grab onto him, but he eludes your grasp. He’s the last thing you see, amid the tangle of limbs against wings that are now burning, melting and riddled with deformities as you had then plummeted, a spiralling descent — the heavens you had reached for, in plea of a saviour, growing further and further out of your reach. 

Even the birds have scattered, leaving you in fear. For there was nothing else to feel but the rushing of wind in your ears, and the strange heaviness within your limbs, as if they too had been reduced to resignation, dragging you down, the clouds, the sky blurring around you. 

Another bout of laughter rings through the air, before fading to a strange quietness — away from dreams of eternal flight across the skies, and back to the cage in which you had first witnessed the world. 

---

You jerk awake, gasping for air. 

“Oh gods… no… it was just a dream.” You mutter to yourself as you push aside the strands of hair that stick to your forehead, blinking the spots out of your eyes as the morning light pours into the room. 

It’s strangely stuffy, someone had come in to wrap you in extra blankets, leaving behind a smell of sweat and some heavy metallic scent you can almost taste on your tongue. A shudder runs through you at the thought of who that could be, immediately throwing the covers off yourself. 

It’s just a dream.

Yet you can still feel the ghost of his grip on your arm as you cross the room, past where the cage had sat several hours earlier — it seems to grow tighter with each step closer, reaching up, tightening around your chest as you force yourself to exhale. There’s no birds outside to your surprise, staring through the glass at the orange streaked skies of the morning. 

You reach to open the window anyways, hand half suspended in the air — that’s when you notice something golden in the corner of your vision. 

You immediately regret looking down at the windowsill in the next second. 

You scream. 

You slap your hand over your mouth immediately, head snapping around — turning away. A strangled retching sound escapes you, your stomach sinking as you force yourself to look up once more.  

It’s just a dream.

Trembling, you turn your head back slowly around, gulping in a deep breath, as if to push down the rising bile in your throat at the sight before you, and the tears that have begun to prick at the corner of your eyes, as you bring yourself to take a proper look. 

It’s just a dream.

This is no dream.

There’s no mistaking that golden plumage, whose feathers are splayed before you, its ends blackened and smoking, severed from the main body in crude disfigurement, crimson blood trickling from flesh wounds that expose pearly white bone. 

It had flown only yesterday, yet now it will never fly again, as your eyes travel over the remains of its body, twisted and broken — and irrevocably dead. 

There’s nothing else but a crinkled note pinned to its side. 

A carefully worded threat: 

It should’ve sung when it still could. 

[sassy-stupid]

bruises r an erogenous zone