#pleading

He was late. Again. An hour late at that, this time around. You gave him a pass the first time it happened, him just being shy of 15 minutes late but at this point it was irritating you. And slightly hurtful as you started to wonder what could’ve been more important to him than quality time.

A few times each month you and Cameron had pre-planned movie nights. It was one of the many occasions you’d look forward to with each other because you both took it seriously. Even going as far as each of you offering two of your preferred movies and ranking them at the end with a full rundown of your thoughts. Together, you’d also go to the store prior to the event and grab your favorite snacks before settling in for the night to watch the array of movies.

Not feeling like waiting any longer you lifted yourself from the couch to venture up to the bedroom, sighing in disappointment as you did. In the process of you making your way halfway up the stairs you heard the familiar jingle of his keys before he rushed in hoping to catch you before you went up. His breathing was labored, sounding as though he had run home or something but you slid your curiosity to the side. Holding a disinterested look on your face, you turned your back to him without saying anything to continue up the stairs.

Oh shit, Cameron thought to himself. He didn't intend to come home this late and he sure as shit didn't intend to give you more reason to be disappointed in his less than subpar time management again. Right about now he was regretting going out with his teammates for what was supposed to be a “real quick” run to get some food. That "quick" run turned into a gas station trip and an impromptu drop off for one of his teammates to his girls house.

He dropped his items on the ground, rapidly moving to follow you up the stairs as he pleaded, “baby wait”, while you continued giving him the silent treatment. Breathlessly, he uttered, “Baby please, I’m sorry!” He already knew he was going to be groveling for the remainder of the evening. “Please don’t be mad at me, I can expla—”, and you swiftly turned around. Now at the entrance of the bedroom, you cut him off before he could continue.

You were somehow becoming increasingly upset as he pleaded desperately for you to acknowledge him but the cherry on top was hearing him utter the words “please don’t be mad at me”. Taking a moment to breathe deeply, you shut your eyes to calm yourself before you opened them back up to interject him. “Would you prefer we just cancel these ‘movie nights’, hm? Is that what you want Cam? Just let me know. I’d much rather do that than continue with them if you’re going to go out of your way to be late and stand me up”.

Caught off guard by your suggestion, Cameron stuttered out “w-what? No, I don’t, I swear!” You rolled your eyes, turning away to walk further into the bedroom. You rested against the headboard, crossing your legs in a casual manner. Feigning an interested look you went on, “no, no, it’s fine. We should just stop doing them since you clearly have other pressing matters to attend too for—”, you paused, viewing the time on your phone before continuing, “an hour. So please, do tell! What’s the important, pressing matter you had to handle in that time frame??!”

Cameron heard his heart thump loudly in his ear as he thought about how to voice the reason in an attempt to diffuse you. Cautiously he sat parallel, facing you as he proceeded to speak, fumbling his words at first. “We went—.. I planned on coming home on time, I swear I did. I promise I didn’t forget, we ended up grabbing some food and getting gas, I didn’t know they were also going to drop Justin off at his girls place”. With a desperate look in his eyes he begged, “Forgive me, please… there’s no valid excuse for me being late but please, I apologize”.

After a pause of silence from you and you refusing to meet his eyes, he timidly reached over to grab your hand, intertwining it with his. When you didn’t immediately pull away he brought it towards his mouth, pressing a soft kiss to the back of your hand. At this motion, you met his gaze. You were giving him a blank expression but he took it as a win, expressing how he’d make it up to you. With a genuine tone he said, “I don’t want to stop the movie nights, I look forward to them baby, every single one. I promise I’ll show you that…” Testing the waters further, he brought his other hand to rest on your thigh, rubbing small circles. “I’ll do anything, please baby. Just say the word. Let me make it up to you”.

You could practically smell the despair oozing off of him as he yearned for any sort of response. You still had some frustration but ideas swarmed your mind as you stewed on the fact he said he’d do anything. You peered back and forth from one eye to the other with an inquisitive expression on your face. “Anything?…”, you questioned. And Cameron eagerly nodded, verbally expressing, “anything, whatever you want”. He knew whatever you had in mind was meant to be his punishment but apart of him was buzzing with adrenaline knowing he’d have to earn your forgiveness.

“Ok then. Take off your clothes, leave your boxers on”. Like an obedient soldier Cameron immediately stood up, ridding himself of all his clothes except for his boxers. Anticipation coursed through his veins as he awaited your next instruction. Content with his eagerness you slid off the bed in no hurry, instructing him to lay on his back in the middle of the bed. The flame in his lower abdomen was lit as he watched you leisurely remove your entire outfit, holding steady eye contact with him as you did.

He sucked in a breath, trying to keep himself composed under you. His eyes followed your every move as you sensually climbed on top of his body. You took note of the way his chest was rising and falling rapidly, already knowing the idea you had in mind was going to happen exactly as you envisioned if you played your cards right.

Careful to straddle him just above his length, avoiding contact with it, you informed him: “here’s what’s going to happen, you will not be allowed to cum until I tell you. You will not be allowed to touch me unless I tell you”, pausing to gently grasp his jaw before continuing, "you feel close, you tell me", intentionally choosing to move down to straddle his dick in that moment. You felt him twitch beneath the thin material, a faint whimper leaving his mouth as his hands itched to grip your hips. Firmly grasping his jaw now, you asked, “am I understood?” Cameron nodded, mouth parted, before he licked his lips and said “yes”, in an unsteady tone. Cracking your first smile you responded “good”.

You then moved to gradually pull his boxers down. His length slapped against his stomach, pre cum leaking from the head. You did everything in a slow, drawn out manner, climbing back on top of him to seat yourself directly over his dick. Planting your hands on his abdomen, you teasingly dragged your folds up and down his length, his tip slightly hitting your clit everytime you motioned upwards. His abs involuntarily flexed under the feel of your soft skin. Your mouth parted as you continued the casual pace, arousal coating him with each grind of your hips. From this position your arms were pressing your boobs together, causing your peaked nipples to move in sync with your hips right in front of his eye-line.

Cameron’s breath faltered, a moan slipping out at the sight. He already tried psyching himself up in his mind, knowing it was going to take all the restraint he could muster not to cum before you said so. You did one more firm slow drag of your pussy against him before lifting your hips completely to ease onto his length. You moaned out, being sure to contract around his length with each, agonizingly slow push. Cameron clenched his hands located at his sides, fumbling for anything to hold except for your body. He was so use to touching any and every part of your body during the act that his grip on the comforter wasn’t enough to sate that desire of digging his palms into the flesh of your ass or thighs. He knew that was exactly what you intended so he abided, keeping them placed at his sides.

Once fully seated, you began slowly rocking back and forth, intentionally doing so in a way where your clit was getting friction with each grind forward. Your eyes fell shut, head falling back as you picked up the pace. Airy moans continued spilling out of your mouth as the knot in your stomach grew tight. All Cameron could do was watch as the scene unfolded above him, a mesmerized look in his eyes as he tried to keep his breathing steady. His dick throbbed inside you, pressure steadily growing as you used him to get off. He bit his bottom lip, holding back his groans.

In that moment you gazed down at him, holding eye contact as you came close to the edge. You felt the tension in his hips build as he fought against the urge to thrust upwards. Desperate to feel you, he stuttered out, “p-please, let me touch you”. Deciding to draw out his torture, you responded by bringing your hand to your clit, rubbing fast circles. The hand that was placed on him dug into his abdomen as your orgasm approached. Moaning wantonly as the bliss spread throughout your body. His grip in the comforter became deathly as he shut his eyes, brows furrowed, to prevent himself from cumming right then and there under your gaze. Having you tremble above him and feeling you flutter around him as your climax washed over you accompanied with the fact he wasn’t allowed to touch you proved to be a solid punishment.

Still spasming around his length, through the euphoric haze of your orgasm you trailed your hand up his chest. Focusing your attention on Cameron, you felt him struggling, the violent twitch of his length being a dead giveaway. Feeling his fast heartbeat under your palm, you glanced over to see the veins in his arm were prominent due to the restraint he was exhibiting. You leaned down to whisper close to his ear, “you wanna cum so bad right now, don’t you?” Exhaling a shaky breath, Cameron nodded his head. The sound of your alluring voice sent a fresh, sharp wave of arousal down his spine.

You placed a firm grip on his jaw to get him to look at you. “I’m gonna move now but remember, you’re not allowed to cum. If you feel it you give me a warning, understand?” He was breathing wildly, eyes darting across your face as he nodded, whispering breathlessly, “I understand”. Pleased with his obedience you smiled, “good”, before leaning down to press your lips against his. During the kiss, you lifted your hips up before roughly bringing them back down. His breath faltered at the sudden movement, feeling that familiar heat spread throughout his core. Slightly pulling away you uttered against his lips, “you can touch”.

His big hands immediately found solace on the globes of your ass, helping you glide up and down. Returning to the same position gazing down at him, you set a vigorous pace bouncing up and down, coating his dick with more of your slick. He was momentarily unable to shift his gaze away from the wetness glistening on his dick as you continued with your ruthless pace. The lewd squelching sounds paired with your skin hitting his filled the bedroom. “F-fuck baby, slow down. P-please”, Cameron stuttered out, pleading as the intense knot in his lower abdomen grew stronger. His head fell back, mouth parted, as he used all of his strength to keep his climax at bay.

Your pleasure increased steadily from him slowly losing his ability to keep his composure. Pushing him closer to the edge, you slid one of your hands up to his neck. You applied firm pressure to just the sides, making him feel slightly lightheaded. His grip on your ass became bruising, helping you continue with your fast pace as he felt himself throb with the telltale sign he was going to cum. Voice strained, he groaned out “w-wait fuck I-I’m close”.

You were right there at the edge too, contracting around him frequently. Moaning out, you moved your hand from his throat up to grip his jaw again, the other hand that dug into his abdomen leaving imprints on him. You ordered, “don’t cum”. Cameron whimpered, trying to suppress the urge to cum. He pleaded, “please b-baby, you’re so f-fucking wet”, attempting to slow your bouncing by shifting one hand to your hip. He shifted the other to your thigh, gripping tight. The pressure only becoming more intense the harder he tried to prevent himself from cumming. In a rushed, breathy tone he warned, “c-can’t hold it, feels t-too good”. His words only spurred you on, causing you to lose sight of the plan you set for a moment as you moaned, clenching his dick tightly.

Snapping yourself back to the plan, on your own accord you slowed your movements down a few notches voicing, “you think you deserve it?” His body involuntarily shuddered at the sudden change of pace, dick twitching as the pressure fluctuated in his abdomen now. His eyes drifted shut for a moment so he could catch his breath before he opened them again focusing his attention back on you. A dazed, aching look in his eyes, Cameron uttered out “no I don’t deserve it baby, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I fucked u—”, and you took that moment to resume the vigorous pace you set from the beginning, going faster now, chasing your next climax.

Cameron felt like the wind was knocked out of him, abs involuntarily flexing at the intensity of his impending orgasm. “Oh f-fuck, just like t-that baby”, he moaned as you fluttered around his dick, squeezing him like a vice. You brought a hand up to cover his mouth, enjoying the feeling of control in that moment. The fucked out look in his eyes as he stared was enough to put you right on the edge again.

Exhilarated from a new found burst of energy, your pace became brutal. Your hips were wildly bouncing up and down, more arousal spilling out and coating him with each bounce. You bit your bottom lip hard, falling deeply into the pleasure of the steady rhythm you set. Camerons hands shifted from your thighs, to your hips, to your ass, unsure of what to grip on to for grounding at this point. His moans were still loud, muffled behind your small hand.

A broken moan escaped your lips before you questioned, “is it going to happen again?”, removing your hand from his mouth to hear his response. Cameron had registered what you said but it took him a moment to form a verbal response, a thin sheen of sweat accenting his skin as he continued to restrain his orgasm. “N-no, I promise baby”. He whimpered out his last statement in a hushed tone as though he was barely able to coherently say it, “please let me cum, c-can’t hold it any more, n-need to—”

Feeling your own orgasm make its second wave you cut him off moaning, “cum”. His body trembled, the intensity of his climax spreading to every single atom in his body. Like second nature he pulled you down close, wrapping his arms around your body dragging out both your orgasms. On command, his dick twitched. Ropes of his cum spurted out, coating your walls. He mumbled out, “thank you, thank yo—”, against your ear before he cut himself off with groan. His head tipping back, brows furrowing with a hazy look in his eyes as he continued twitching, filling you up. Your nails dug into his shoulders as you spasmed around his dick, trying to catch your breath. Mouth parting in an o shape, your toes curled from the sensation as you milked every drop he had. A low drawn out groan spilled from his mouth as he continued slowly rocking you on his length till the waves had passed. You felt his abs contract against your soft stomach, savoring the feeling of draining him.

You took a moment to just listen to the soft thrum of his heartbeat, settling into a comfortable silence. He gently grazed up and down your back with his fingertips. You broke the silence, pushing off of his chest to look down into his eyes. Sincerely you spoke, “seriously Cam, don’t do that again. That actually does hurt my feelings and believe it or not I do actually like our movie nights…”. Upon hearing that last sentence Cameron was hit with a pang of guilt in his chest. “I apologize, I swear it won’t happen again”, he expressed as he brought one of your hands to his mouth planting a gentle kiss on your palm. He continued, “I’m gonna make it up to you, pinky promise”, extending his pinky towards you waiting for you to interlock with his. You playfully rolled your eyes, extending your pinky towards his.

After lacing them Cameron abruptly flipped you over, trapping you beneath him. You laughed in surprise, Cameron indulging in the fact he was still able to pick up your mood. He inquired, “you still wanna do it tonight or reschedule for tomorrow?” You absentmindedly traced his sides as you responded “tomorrow. Right now I just want to shower then sleeppp”. He pressed kisses across your cheeks, smiling mischievously as he expressed, “think I can help with both of those”, nipping at your ear.

You laughed but paused, remembering the state he was in when he made his entrance, still confused as to why he was so out of breath. Questioning, you asked, "wait, why were out of breath earlier? Did you run home or something??" Cameron let out a light chuckle before responding, "yea, actually. He got a flat like two streets away, didn't want to keep you waiting so I ran". He shrugged casually as though it was the only evident option. You burst into a fit of laughter at the absurdity but your heart felt warmed at the gesture.

From the following night on, Cameron made it his due diligence to show up early to each of the movie nights. He also graciously offered you include an extra movie of your liking to extend movie nights. You were content in the end.

The day had started out so pure, waking up in Rafe’s arms, the sun glittering through a crack in your window curtains. His arms gripped you tight, stirring you out of a deep sleep as he planted delicate kisses on your neck, sucking a faint pink spot just above your collarbone. Your eyes calmly fluttered open, sinking into his touch for more. 

“Good morning, princess”. Rafe cupped his hand around your chin, his fingers pushed back a strand of messy sleep hair, and attached his lips to yours. 

He didn't even care about your morning breath, skillfully pushing his tongue past your lips and engulfing you under his body. You are the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, he thought. Not even in a sexy, lustful type of way. In a way like you were a piece of art, handcrafted and sculpted, sitting on display in the museum of his mind.

Fuck, he needed every day to start out like this. 

The kiss wasn’t even supposed to lead to this. He just wanted to be close to you, but the way you breathed inaudible little moans into his neck and whispered his name so painfully smooth hexed him. 

A true siren, call him in. Calling him closer until he was lost.

You wrapped your arms around the base of Rafe’s neck, fingers ghosting through his buzzed-cut hair. Rafe always thought himself a strong man, a protector, but your touch destroyed him, all the strength in him crashing down to a whining puddle of need. 

He looked so good like this, hovered over you and panting into your neck, cold metal rings on his fingers digging into the silky skin of your thighs. 

“Oh baby,” Rafe begged, his hips pressing into yours, the thin material of his boxers allowing him to feel the subtle arousal leaking on your panties.

That was it. He needed you. 

“Rafe,” you breathed so softly, biting the long sleeve of his shirt you had slept in. 

“Yeah, princess?” Rafe reached for the line of your panties, spreading your legs as he pulled them to the side, perfect little pussy on display. 

“JJ’ll be home soon. He’s gonna see your car,” you mournfully groaned, staring up at Rafe’s parted lips and pleading eyes.

“We have time. I’ll be fast, promise.” Rafe pulled his boxers down, the chill air hitting his hard cock. “Need you now…please”.

You nodded your head in response, Rafe hands easily assassinating any thoughts of JJ coming home. 

“Ow”, you whined, watching as Rafe dipped a single digit inside you, hands fighting against the hem of your panties. “Rafey, please”. 

Fuck when you called him that…he was nothing but yours. 

“Gotta stretch you out a little, baby. Don't wanna hurt you.” Rafe’s eyebrows were focused, watching as your walls gushed around him, arousal soaking his finger. He hooked his finger, pressing right on that spot that drove you crazy, the rings on his hands hitting against your soft skin. 

“Cold”, you swallowed and Rafe hummed, gently removing his fingers and pulling his rings off, sitting them nonchalantly on your bedside table. He worked quick, sliding two fingers back inside you, relishing in the warmth of his skin. He could stay right here, like this, forever, if you would let him. 

He pumped his fingers in and out, swirling them inside you. 

God, he hated this. You should be coming around his fingers, in his mouth, and then around his fingers again before he even dared to think about putting his dick inside you. But he knew he didn't have time, and he cursed himself for not waking you up earlier. 

Fucking JJ was always ruining everything. 

If he wasn't such a mess right now, he would have taken you without any care, making you scream on his cock until the entire obx knew whose bitch you were. But Rafe fought to be gentle. Most of the time, it was easy. You were so pure, he hadn’t felt the need to get rough, something he never experienced before. For most girls, he had no problem choking, slapping, or bending over and shoving his cock into them. But you were changing him, rewriting his DNA, and turning him into a whimpering mess. The worst part was, he fucking loved it. Like the siren song of your moans, he craved it.

Rafe’s hands grabbed at your sides and he worked fast, reaching for his wallet and pulling out a gold package. He opened it with his teeth, grabbing the condom and swiftly pulling it down his dick. Something else he wasn't used to doing before you. He never minded wearing them, as long as you were safe and comfortable. But sometimes he fucking dreamed of sliding in that sweet pussy, no barriers between the two of you, and painting your tight little walls until he was dripping out of you, filling you with his hot seed, and growing a baby. 

You picked your hips up some, wrapping your legs just above Rafe’s waist. He lined himself up against you, sliding the tip in so slowly he felt your walls open around him.

Your mouth hung open, soft coys falling from you like lava.

“That's it, baby”. It was torture, sinking inside you this slow, but Rafe knew you were still getting used to him and you needed more time to really open up for him. His two fingers were never enough to truly warm you up. He sunk down, feeling himself hit the back of your pussy, a squelching sound vibrating around the room. 

“Oh!”, you cried, dragging your nails down Rafe’s back with a slight hiss. You didn’t know how he was able to do this but the heat in your body was already rising and you felt your pussy crying out for him, sucking him in further as he sat still, waiting and stretching you so much more than you had experienced before him. 

“Yes!”, you yelled, legs shaking and body writhing at his touch.

“You cumming already, princess?” Rafe chuckled, “haven’t even moved yet,” He couldn't help but smirk, dragging himself out completely and slamming himself back in.

You nodded your head, unable to speak as your back arched off the bed. You felt your cheeks grow hot, the coil in you ready to pop.

“Yeah?” Rafe smirked. “Cum on my dick, baby.” Pride filled him and your pussy leaked with arousal, like nectar from a wildflower. 

Rafe couldn’t get enough of it and before you had a chance to come down from your high, he slammed into you, ripping high-pitched cries from your throat. 

He knew you couldn’t be too loud, just in case. So he leaned down, taking his time to explore your mouth deep and sensual. Each movement of your lips is longing and tender like he had been away for years. His breaths are hot and come out as shaky gasps. He falls into the kiss, absorbing your moans and sucking your bottom lip.

His thrusts were faster now, hitting you with the perfect force to rip another orgasm through you, the lights in the room fading as you clenched your eyes shut.

“Fuck, that’s my sweet girl”. Rafe’s breath was hot on your neck “That’s my good little girl”. He dragged his warm hands up your shirt, massaging the velvety skin of your tits and lightly pinching a nipple between his fingers. 

And fuck, you knew JJ would be home at any second. It had been so hard keeping Rafe a secret, him sneaking in so quietly, having to wrap his hand around your mouth so you didn’t scream out, and fucking you on the floor so the bed didn’t smack against the wall. 

You clenched your walls around Rafe, bearing down your stomach to tighten around his cock. 

“Fuck, baby girl”. Rafe’s eyes rolled back, his forehead pressed against yours as you flexed your legs around his waist harder, sinking him in impossibly deeper. 

“Goddamn, yes”, Rafe hissed, sucking his teeth against his lips, jaw clenched tight.

“Fucking love you, baby”. His thrust grew faster, hitting you with more force. 

“God, I love you so much”, he growled, pressing his lips into yours as thick white ropes of cum shot out of him.

“Ahh, ow”. Your teeth clattered together, your body shaking as he pulled out of you, your chest rising and falling. “L-love y-you t-too,” 

God, he didn't want to leave. He stayed above you, peppering you with kisses again. He wanted more of you. But, he ripped his body off the bed, throwing the condom in the trash can next to your desk. Everything told him to stay, wrap his arms around you, and caress your skin until you fell asleep on him again. It felt dirty and wrong sneaking out of your window after you were just wrapped around his cock, crying for him. He wanted to take care of you, wanted to clean you up with his mouth, and wash your body in a steamy shower. He felt like a bad boyfriend, like a little bitch that didn't know how to treat his woman.

“I hate your brother,” Rafe frowned, throwing on a black hoodie and a pair of dark jeans. 

“I know,” you laughed, watching as he grabbed all his things. 

Rafe leaned down, your body still weak and crumbling, and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in and breathing your scent. Vanilla and coconut. 

“Love you, baby,” he groaned, forcing himself to open the window and snake his body through. 

An immediate sadness filled you, watching as he pulled out of the driveway. You sunk your body back into your bed, the loss of Rafe’s arm making you cold.

Thirty minutes had passed and you had just enough time to get dressed, hearing the sound of JJ knocking on the bedroom door. 

“Hungry?”, he asked, carrying in a bag from Heyward’s Seafood.

You sat up, legs slightly sore from your earlier activities. 

“God yes,” you smiled, scooting so JJ could sit next to you. He laughed, sitting two drinks down on your bedside table.

JJ's eyes fell on the silver round metal absentmindedly thrown on the table. “What the fuck is this?” 

Your heart pounded in your chest. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. This was so bad. JJ had always been your protector, hovering over you like a bodyguard protecting celebrities from the paparazzi. 

“Whose fucking rings are these?” he scowled, a venom rising in his voice.

“Nobodies. Give them to me”, you yelped, trying to stop JJ from picking them up. 

You struggled for a moment and JJ snatched one from your hand quickly, silently inspecting the inside to see the name “Cameron” engraved on the inside.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me” JJ stood, running his hands through his blonde hair. 

“Please tell me Rafe Cameron was not in my fucking house.” JJ was fully yelling now, looking at you like you had just stabbed him in a vital organ.

You didn't know what to say and you swore you might have been having a heart attack, chest tightening, and the room spinning. 

“JJ, it's not what you think”. You followed as JJ stomped through the house, his fist in balls. 

“Not what I think?” JJ yelled again, throwing on a pair of shoes. “Did he fucking touch you? Are you okay?” JJ spiral, looking you up and down for any marks or scratches. 

His eyes twitched, his skin turning a ghostly white. “Is that a fucking hickey?” 

“It's not like that.” You yell back. “He loves me”.

“You think that psychopath loves you?” JJ laughed, grabbing his keys and slamming the screen door, a loud screech echoing throughout the home.

“He's not a psychopath”. You chased after him, unable to keep up with his fast pace. 

“Stop. Go back to the fucking house. I’m serious.” JJ practically screamed, his eyes dark and he swore he was seeing red hot blood. 

“Where are you going?” you screamed, watching as JJ climbed into the Twinkie, turning on the engine and speeding away. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

JJ didn’t even know where to go, but he promised himself, that the second he found Rafe, he was going to kill him.

After what seemed like an eternity, he found the Cameron boy, sitting at a table with friends. He locked his sights on Rafe, rage consuming him. He didn't care that the restaurant was crowded, didn't even care if he got arrested for assault. 

Rafe spotted him a mile away, the tires of the Twinkie screeching in the parking lot made JJ pretty obvious. He almost ignored the blonde boy, but he could see by the strides in JJ’s walk and his tense shoulders, something was off. 

“JJ, don’t do this man,” Rafe yelled, putting his hands up as a sign of protest. He had promised you that he wouldn't fight JJ again, and breaking a promise with you was something he didn't plan on doing today. 

Rafe stayed glued to his chair, even as JJ stomped toward him.

“Get up,” JJ shouted, the crow around them growing eerily quiet and still. “You think you can just come into my house and fuck my little sister like some slut?”

Rafe’s jaw clenched. He breathed calmly, trying to stop his body from the violence it was always quick to turn to. “What did you just fucking call her?” Rafe’s skin boiled. 

“She thinks you fucking love her” JJ laughed, throwing Rafe’s rings at him, hitting him in the arm.

“Dude, you need to back off before you start some shit you can't take back” Rafe looked around, standing from his chair and taking a step closer to JJ.

“Nah, I don't think I will” JJ was quick to throw a punch, landing it hard on Rafe’s eye. He stumbled back, body falling on the side of a table for balance. 

Rafe’s expression hardened, his jaw clenched tight, and fist locked into balls. As much as he wished he could, he wouldn't let that shit go. He regained his balance fast, and wrapped his arms around JJ, tackling him onto the ground with a loud ‘thud’.

The two boys thrashed around the floor, bodies struggling to pull each other off until Rafe finally pinned JJ down. He grabbed the collar of JJ’s shirt, blowing punches as JJ struggled under him, blood pooling at his lip. Rafe was careful, not using any real strength, but still causing some damage. The crowd gasped, and security rushed to pull the boys off of each other. 

“Don’t fucking come near her again or I swear to god I’ll kill you. I’ll fucking kill you”: JJ screamed, two men pulling him in the opposite direction.

Hours had passed and your phone was blowing up. You watched your screen flash over and over again, texts from Rafe, your friends, and even Topper. JJ finally came home, face covered in bruises and his eyes swollen. 

You knew your relationship with Rafe would have consequences but you didn’t expect them to be quite this severe.

“Baby, I’m sorry”, lit up on the screen, the simple short sentence enough to stop your anger in its tracks, like the flame of a candle quickly blown out. You knew you should text him back, but you wouldn’t give up that easily. You sat your phone down, silencing it for the next couple of hours while you lay in bed. 

You tried so hard to go to sleep, your mind racing and body aching. It was weird, ignoring Rafe. More texts had come through, Rafe telling you how much he loved you, that he was sorry, that he would make it up to you if you would just talk to him. 

As much as you wanted to stay mad, your body was starving for him. You knew he was probably feeling like shit.

You ripped your body from your mattress, threw on a sweatshirt, and quietly sneaked out the front door. The walk to Rafe’s house was a quiet one, the breeze softly flowing through your hair in the moonlight.

You found the huge house quick, praying that Rafe was still awake. 

You had been here before, but your heart pounded in your chest as you found Rafe's window, slowly pushing up on the glass. The room was dark and quiet except for the subtle breathing from Rafe.

“What are you doing?” He shot up in the dark, quickly turning on the light and grabbing your hand as you stepped inside the room. 

“I-I couldn't sleep,” you coyed, playing with your finger in your hands.

“Me either.” Rafe sat on his bed, quietly watching as you stood in front of him. “Come here,” he softly demanded, tapping his lap. 

You tried to get a sense of what he was thinking but he was so closed off in the moment, you couldn't figure out any of his emotions. 

Rafe positioned you on top of him, placing you around his left leg. “I’m sorry, baby.” His hands fell to your sides and you locked your arms around him.

“I know. It’s okay. Just needed to see you”. You pulled him closer, placing a kiss on his lips. You relaxed into him, a moan escaping you as he licked at your lips, swapping his salvia with yours in a heated dance. 

Rafe broke the kiss, tucking your hair behind your ear. “Missed me, huh? Didn't get enough earlier?” 

“Yeah,” you whined, watching Rafe’s hands travel to your thigh, rubbing smooth circles with his thumb on your sweatpants.

“I know baby, I know”. Rafe reached for your shoes, roughly pulling them off and throwing them in the corner of the room. He stood you up, pulling off your sweatpants and snaking his fingers down the hem of your panties, before repositioning you on his leg.

He planted kisses back on your neck, sucking hard and biting at your skin. Suddenly he realized he could make the marks as dark as he wanted, show everyone whose girl you were, who you belonged to. You wiggled under him, his bare skin pressing against your pussy.

You grined your hips softly, Rafe’s hands reaching to pull off your sweatshirt., “Mmh”, you withered, the smooth skin of Rafe’s thighs slick with your juices as you rubbed your clit against his tensing muscles. Rafe reached for your hips, pushing and pulling you so you rocked harder against him, the added pressure pushing your body down harder. 

“That’s a good girl. Ride my thigh.” You threw your head onto his shoulders, mouth falling open. 

“No, no.” Rafe grabbed your chin. “Let me watch you” He locked his eyes on yours.

“Why didn’t you answer my texts?” he asked, eyebrows furrowed and jaw tight, the vein in his neck noticeably swollen.

“R-Rafe,” You sighed, body hot. “I d-don’t k-know”.

“I’ve been good to you, right?” Rafe spoke, his voice emotionless and still, something you didn't recognize. He looked like a statue, eyes staring down at you as you wiggled in his lap, his hand coming to cup your chin, forcing you to stare up at him.

“Y-yes, you t-treat me…t-treat m-me so well”, you answered honestly, focusing on the dark bruise under his eye. You felt your pussy practicing dripping, a pool of your arousal on his thigh. 

“Yeah? You know I love you, baby?” he swiped his thumb over your mouth, pulling the plump skin of your bottom lip down slightly.

You nodded your head, breathing becoming stranded as your body tightened. 

“I do. I love you more than anything. But I think I need to teach you a lesson. I think you need to learn who's in charge here, huh?” Rafe dipped his thumb in your mouth, your soft tongue grazing the callous skin of his finger pads. 

“Fuck, Rafe!” You nodded your head again, your hips moving uncontrollably. You swirled your tongue around his thumb, sucking and lightly grazing your teeth over him. 

“That’s it. Cum for me baby” Rafe growled, watching the way your body moved so harshly against him. 

Rafe just stared, the boiling need he had been repressing for so long finally erupting. It was the side of him he had worked so hard to make sure you never saw. But at this moment, he didn't care. You were his, all his, and if you thought you could just ignore him all day, you had another thing coming. 

“Get on your knees.” 

You followed his instructions without a word, watching as Rafe pulled off his boxers.

Your blood ran cold, cheeks flustered and legs weak from the orgasm. He was so gorgeous, the tip of his cock a dark shade of pink and slightly curved up. 

You stared for a moment, trying to hype yourself up. Head was never your strong suit, and honestly, Rafe hardly asked for it. He stood like a rock, pumping his hard cock above you, your pretty eyes locked on him.

“Put your hands behind your back” Rafe stepped closer, grabbing at the ends of your hair and holding it in a make-shirt ponytail. You weren’t sure what to make of it, but you did as you were told, a hint of fear behind your eyes.

You nodded your head, and slowly put your hands behind your back, your knees digging into the carpet as you opened your mouth. Rafe rubbed his cock against your plump lips, precum shining on your lips as you lightly kissed the tip of his penis and licked the slit.

“Fuck,” Rafe groaned, his hands pushing tight in your hair as you wrapped your lips delicately around the head of his cock. His sounds set you on fire, confidence striking you. You bobbed your head deeper, taking him in smoothly.

“Tap my thigh twice if you need to,” His hands in your hair pushed you down until you were gagging around him and you fought to keep your throat relaxed. Your mouth was wide open, jaw painfully stretched as his cock hit the back of your throat with a vengeance, small tears forming in the corner of your eyes and tenderly falling down your cheek, Saliva filled your mouth, running down your chin and onto the base of Rafe’s cock. You had never, never done anything like this before. You tried to stay calm, keep your teeth away from Rafe's sensitive member.

“Fuck, Princess”, Rafe’s thrust were deep, the force causing you to gag and the sound echoing around the room. “Taking me so well. Didn’t even know you could fucking do this,” Rafe hissed between gritted teeth, pushing your shoulders so your mouth popped off his dick. He grabbed your chin, forcing you to look up. Rafe leaned into you, spitting into your mouth like a pro. His saliva was warm, filling your mouth and falling from your chin before he was wrapping you back around his cock. This time impossibly rougher and the tears continued to stream down, your throat threatening to close at any moment. 

“Get on the bed,” Rafe demanded, pulling you to your feet and pushing you so you landed with a soft thud. He dragged a hand from your neck to your breast. Your heart pounded in your chest, and something told you, you were meeting the Rafe that everyone had warned you about. Every nerve in your body was shot, and goosebumps tainted your skin.

“Don’t fucking move,” Rafe demands, hand gripping down on my stomach. You nod in silence and stay as still as possible as he brings his hands between your legs, forcing you to spread them apart.

“Think I need to give you a safeword. How about lavender”. He stood above you, eyes dark but a hint of sincerity behind them. 

“Okay,” you gasp, watching as Rafe shoves a finger inside you, with no warning. 

“Goddamn, look at that pretty cunt”, Rafe huffs, the air hitting your core as he spreads your lips apart. He presses against your soft walls with a devilish force, sending chills through your entire body “So messy already. Gonna let me leave you dripping?”

You whimper and nod your head in response, a need growing as he begins to apply more pressure to his movements. You feel your walls clench around his fingers, eager for him to open you up more. 

Rafe lets out a soft “Yeah, you are” and begins to pump his finger in and out sending a squelching arousal down your legs. You try your hardest to stay still and relax into his touch, but Rafe is quick to add a second finger, hooking them up to hit your g-spot relentlessly.  A look of complete focus covers Rafe’s face, his eyebrows furrowed and lips locked tight. 

“Fuck yes! Don’t stop.” Your cries grow louder and your hips develop an involuntary bucking motion, Rafe's fingers hitting you hard and rough. He was like an animal and you were the prey. He brought another hand to your clit, rubbing circles with his thumb and adding a sensation that sends you over the edge. “That’s it, cum on my fingers Princess,” he groans, fingers moving fast and rough. 

Your thighs hug his wrist, clenching together subconsciously.

“Fucking keep them open,” Rafe growls, his motions showing no signs of stopping or acknowledgment about the thick white creamy liquid coating the bottom of his fingers. 

“Fuck, Rafe. P-Please. Just need you inside me, please,” you whine, your legs already shaky and weak. 

“I’ll fuck you when I’m ready. Shut up and take my fingers,” he states emotionlessly like he’s completely unaffected by your pleas and cries for more.

“Ahh!” you bite my lip hard, his fingers too rough after the wave of pleasure that just washed over you. Rafe loses his mind at your dripping cunt, placing his mouth around your clit and sucking hard before flicking his tongue. 

“Oh my god, Daddy!” You didn't even process the name, didn’t even mean to say it.

Rafe growls, spitting on your clit and quickly devouring it again. “Good girl. This my fucking pussy?” Rafe mumbles, licking stripes between your folds. His fingers continue at an inhumane pace, sending shocks of pleasure too intense for you to handle. 

“Yes, daddy. It’s yours!" You practically scream. “God, I’m going to cum again. R-Rafe, please, t-too mu-much,” Your fingers dig into his hair, pulling at him aggressively. 

“You can take it. Cum on my mouth like a good girl.” Rafe growls, the demand in his tone rough and strong. His fingers leave a sloppy echo in the air, sounds of your wetness bouncing off the walls. You buck your hips into his mouth, wet thick arousal dripping down your legs and Rafe has to hold you down, his hand moving from your clit to apply rough pressure to your stomach. “God, you taste fucking amazing.” Rafe sits up, sliding his forearm behind your back, giving him easy access to pull you into another kiss, lips soft and plump against his. You taste yourself on him, sweet and salty. 

“Get on all fours,” he states plainly, helping you flip over. 

Rafe placed a hand on your back, spreading your legs a bit wider and pulling you back so your ass hung perfectly in the air. 

You arched your back more, feeling Rafe line up with your swollen pink lips. “Oh, fuck”, you cried as Rafe sunk inside in one quick motion, so deep his balls rested against your clit. 

“You okay?” 

“Y-yeah” You moaned, voice strained, and head deep in the pillow under you

“Doing so well for me. Such a sweet girl,” he whispered, slowly pulling out the tip of his cock, hands reaching to pull your hair back hard. 

“Thank you, daddy.” You cried, the feeling of him hitting your G-spot already causing your legs to shake around him. 

“Mmh, you’re welcome baby,” Rafe was a mess inside his own head, your warm pussy invading every crevice of his mind, but on the outside, he appeared collected and calm. 

He couldn't believe you were taking him like this, letting him do whatever the fuck he wanted to you. He felt himself get brave, pressing his thumb inside your puckered hole, the skin warm and tight around him. 

“Ow!” You screamed, trying to pull away from him. 

“Stop fucking running. Arch that back baby,” Rafe growled, pulling your hair harder so you had to sit back on him. 

“Fuck, you like my thumb in your ass? Dirty fucking slut, letting me ruin you, huh?” Rafe threw his head back, pumping into you on a mission, his hips slapping against you hard. Rafe brought his hand down, landing on your ass with an echoing ‘slap’. A bright red hand print already started to form, your skin stinging. 

“Ahh! Ow,” cried, unable to keep the tears from spilling out any longer. 

Rafe felt a sting of guilt and he couldn't exactly tell if your cries were from pain or pleasure.

“Do you need to say the safe word, baby girl?” He slowed his thrust, his voice softening 

“No, Daddy, God! D-Don’t stop, please. Please don't stop, daddy.” You couldn't help it and you bucked your hips back, bouncing your ass against him and loud claps ringing in your ears.

“Such a good fucking slut, taking me like this. Bet you wouldn’t care if I came inside you, huh? Have you falling asleep with my cum dripping out of you?” Rafe’s thrust grew impossibly harder, hitting the back of your pussy like he hated you, like he wanted to hurt you.

You nodded your head, the sounds of your wetness filling your ears. You have never been this wet before. “Yes! Please”, you cried, feeling another orgasm threatening to spill out of you. Your thoughts were so clouded you didn't even realize Rafe was fucking you raw. 

“Oh fuck, really?” Rafe smirked, grabbing your hands so he could put them behind your back, his hips fucking you completely into the mattress. “Gonna let me cum inside you, sweet girl?” 

You nodded your head, unable to speak with your head pressed into your pillow, orgasm hitting you hard. Arousal soaked so thick inside you Rafe had to pull his cock out, splashes of your juices landing on his stomach and dripping down. 

“Fuck, that’s a good girl. Squirt on daddy's cock”. Rafe slammed back inside you, immediately continuing his torturous pace, dick slapping into you like a rock. 

“I’m sorry, daddy” You were completely fucked out, drunk on the stretch of your ass and pussy. You didn’t even know what you were saying, didn’t even process what was happening. “I’m so sorry I ignored you. Won't ever do it again.” You struggled to speak, your voice horse and rough. 

“I know, baby.” Rafe groaned, his breath heavy and strained, sweat dripping down his chest. “I know you're sorry.” Rafe placed a kiss on your shoulder, leaning down and gently pulling out of you. You moaned at the loss of him, chest panting. 

“Turn over,” Rafe hovered over you, hooking his arms around your legs and pulling them over his shoulders.

He leaned down, grabbing the base of his cock and lining himself up to your entrance. His eyes locked on yours as he pressed himself back inside you, lips crashing against yours in a hungry passion, teeth clashing together. 

His hands caress over your body as if he's memorizing every inch of you, his previous roughness replaced by a tender touch, leaning down to place gentle kisses on your tits. His mouth latches onto you, sucking gently and swirling his tongue around your swollen bud, teasing and playing. 

“So fucking soft and sweet,” Rafe moans, using a hand to massage your other nipple. His fingers move delicately, pinching and pulling at it softly. You try not to squirm too much under him, but your hips move involuntarily, his body weight holding down as he thrusts softly inside you.

“Harder,” you moaned, needing him to completely wreck you. 

“Yeah? Need it deeper?” Rafe chuckled, picking himself up off his hands and slamming into you, matching his earlier speed. “Think you can handle more of this?” 

“Fuck, Rafe!” your walls clenching so tight around him, the muscles in your stomach and chest were sore, as he pumped in and out. Rafe’s hand traveled up to your throat squeezing with a deadly force as wetness dripped out of you. 

Your legs shook, back arching off the bed as your vision went black, air escaping you. You dug your nails into Rafe’s back, scratching bright red lines down him until he was hissing in pain. “T-too m-much,” you breathed out, voice strained by the tight fingers wrapped around you. 

Rafe reluctantly let go, his hands traveling down to your waist. “Fuck, baby. So fucking tight,” “Stay right there. Just like that.” Rafe growled, his thrust becoming obviously uneven, just as hard but messy and uncalculated. His fingers dug into your skin as he bit his lip, dropping his head into your neck.

“Love you, baby,” he whispered, painting the inside of your walls with his cum. Fuck, no one had ever come inside you before. 

“God, Rafe,” You shuddered at the feeling of his cum dripping out of you as he slowly pulled out. Your body shook violently, the feeling of his cock deep in your cunt still attacking your mind. He stayed motionless before you, placing a light kiss on your cheek, and carefully rolling you over. He placed your head on his chest, wrapping his arms tight around you before pulling the blankets over you. 

“You okay?” Rafe mumbled, all out of breath and exhausted. “Did I hurt you?” his tone was lined with fear, his fingers trembling as he lightly caressed your arm.

You were still gasping at his touch, tears slowly falling down your cheek. “N-No, f-felt so g-good,” you cried, trying to breathe through the orgasms that still echoed on your skin. 

“I’m sorry about JJ. I just, I couldn't let him talk about you like that” Rafe fluttered his eyes open, kissing your forehead. 

“It’s, i-it’s o-okay,” you whispered, unable to move or react much to Rafe’s words.

Rafe whispered soft shh's, his mind racing as you cried into him. Fuck, this was why he never did this. He was so scared, scared he hurt you or pressured you, or did anything you wouldn’t like. You were always a mess after you had sex, but something looked broken in you right now. Rafe pulled you tighter against him and you gasped with every movement, the fear building inside him until he was just as much of a mess as you were. 

“Baby, please. Just calm down, just breathe. You’re okay, I got you.” Rafe didn't know if he was really saying it to you or himself, and he felt his own tears threatening to spill from his eyes. He swore an hour had passed before you had finally stopped shaking, your legs only slightly trembling, and your breathing finally at a normal rate. 

“I’m good, Rafe. I promise. It was just…a lot” you mumbled, cheeks all flustered and voice shy. He held you until you were asleep in his arms, too afraid to move you like you were a piece of glass that might break. 

Fire. Everything is on fire.

The room around you is ablaze, clothes, curtains—anything and everything flammable is enveloped by fire. Every breath you take in is no longer oxygen—but smoke. You wheeze as the disgusting gas fills your lungs and begins to slowly suffocate you.

Must…get out… you think to yourself before noticing the flames have now begun to spread onto your blanket. With your mind fuzzy due to the lack of oxygen, you quickly yank the blanket off you and rush towards the door.

Your hand desperately reaches for the door knob—but immediately recoils once your fingers grasp the burning steel. Dizzy and determined to escape, you bang your frame against the door, slamming as much of your body weight against the wood as possible—though your efforts are in vain. The door doesn’t budge.

You erupt into uncontrollable coughing, desperately trying to expectorate toxic gas out of your lungs as you reach for the door knob again—only to burn your finger pads once more.

You cringe at your survival instincts of a four year old, sliding down the wall and collapsing onto the ground. Light headed and halfway to dreamland, you feel around the ground for anything that would help you open the door or break it down.

Your appendage continues its in-efficacious search for a moment before it touches something—something warm.

You flinch away the moment you register the warmth, fear and confusion overtaking the desire to pass out on the ground.

Cautiously, you lean closer to look at the suspicious object, only to be met with the realization the supposed “object” resembled a familiar body.

Phainon’s unconscious body was lying on the floor, his pulse silent and body disintegrating.

Suddenly—before you could let out a strangled cry, you jolt awake, confused and disoriented, light wrapping its bright embrace around your retina.

You’re back in your shared bedroom, breaths coming out in short pants and the pounding of your accelerated echoing in your ears.

Your hand flies to the spot next to you, only to be met with the cold mattress that had been abandoned by it’s inhabitant a while ago.

Still dazed and panicked, you rush out of bed and speed down the hall, rounding the corner and breathing a sigh of relief the moment you spot Phainon in the kitchen.

“This might be edible,” he’s muttering to himself, sounding entirely unconvinced by his own words.

“Morning,” you mumble as you stand on the tips of your toes, arms rising to snake around his neck from behind, careful not to strangle him.

Phainon tenses slightly at the sudden contact before immediately melting back against you, his free hand coming up to cover yours where they’re looped around his neck, he exhales in quiet contentment.

“Mmm,” he hums, tilting his head back to brush a lazy kiss against your temple. “Morning.”

Then—with all the gravitas of someone announcing the end of an era—he sighs and gestures vaguely toward the pan with his spatula. “…I think I just made charcoal.”

You rest your chin on his shoulder and peering over at the black blob that was supposed to be breakfast.

You poke the lump of coal curiously. “What is it supposed to be…?”

He turns around so hes facing you properly. “It’s supposed to be—” he halts mid sentence and stares at you with wide eyes. “W-What’s wrong? Why are you crying? I know it smells and looks bad but it—I-“ he stammers.

You blink at him dumbfounded before you realize your face was stained with tears. You had forgotten about the nightmare, but it seemed that your body had yet to let it go.

“Hey—hey,” he murmurs, reaching up to brush away your tears with a gentleness that contrast with the alarm and concern in his voice. “What’s wrong? What happened?” His hands hover over your face, desperate to help.

He notices the hesitation on your face and forces himself to relax—for both his sake and yours. “Tell me? Please?” he begs as he tilts his head and flashes you a small, pleading smile.

You shake your head and rest you forehead on his chest before muttering, “nightmare,” against his shirt.

“Oh,” he mutters, burying his face into your hair to hide the forming smile on his face as his arms wrap around you protectively. His relief is palpable. “Just a nightmare?”

“What do you mean ‘just a nightmare’? Hey! Quit laughing!” He stifles a laugh which earns him a light punch on his arm in retaliation.

Phainon lets out a half-choked noise between a yelp and laugh before grinning down at you and rubbing his arm in exaggerated pain.

“Rude,” he mutters, “I was worried!” Though his amusement softens into something warmer as he pulls you back against him—fingers tangling in your hair again as he murmurs, “but fine, no more laughing. Confide in me and tell me what’s wrong?”

“No way in hell. Not after you laughed at my misery,” you grumble back.

Phainon groans—dropping his forehead against your shoulder in exasperated defeat as he wraps his arms tighter around you.

“Okay, okay,” he mutters, voice muffled against your shirt. “I’m a terrible person. Cruel, heartless, laughed at your suffering—unforgivable crimes, really, just say you hate me and want me to die.”

He lifts his head just enough to press a lingering kiss to your temple—quietly sincere now. “I’m sorry…even if it was kind of funny,” he adds.

You nudge him off in mock annoyance. “You can’t be laughing at me when you’re cooking ash and dust, Mr. Charcoal-for-breakfast.”

Phainon lets out an indignant noise at the reminder that he was currently in the process of ruining breakfast, pulling back with exaggerated sulking, a wounded expression plastered on his face. “Uhm actually, I was attempting to make pancakes, thank you very much. I want—wanted us to have a nice breakfast.”

“And I want my day to be free of sitting on the toilet for an hour and shitting out bricks of charcoal,” you mutter back.

He rolls his eyes. “That’s gross—” he manages to say before crackling sounds come from the pan, the block of coal and ash suddenly making suspicious sounds. “Okay…guess its not edible anymore,” he confirms his previous statement.

You glance over at the stove for a second and notice in your moment of weakness and harmless teasing, Phainon had forgot to turn the stove off.

You yelp and quickly yell at him to turn the stove off. Your sudden scolding startles him and he jumps—visibly spooked, before scrambling to turn the stove off with panicked urgency.

His fingers swiftly move to turn the knob off while muttering something that sounds suspiciously like ‘this is why I never cook’ before turning back to you with a sheepish grin.

“Off! Its off!” he yippity yaps back when you scold him. “See? I can be responsible.” (He cannot.)

You sigh and drag your hand down your face. “Who do you think you’re lying to?”

Phainon’s sheepish expression only grows more pronounced when you call out his obvious bullshit, pink dusting his ears at being so thoroughly called out.

His shoulders slump in defeat. “Myself…” whispers sheepishly, sounding like a kicked puppy. “Mostly myself.”

He tries to hold his ground, but the guilty smile he’s fighting off ruins any chance of a dignified response, so he just ends up looking adorably embarrassed instead as his shoulders hunch up defensively.

Then, hunger dawns upon you, which shifts your focus back on the pan of ash on the stove. “I’m hungry, is anything in that pan still edible?” you inquire.

Phainon follows your gaze and instantly winces once it lands on his failed attempt at chocolate chip pancakes—or was it blueberry?

He stares at the absolutely disgusting looking… thing… in the pan for a moment, and the snark dies before it can even leave his mouth.

He just stares blankly at it for a few seconds, looking both thoroughly offended and also vaguely nauseous as if he wasn’t the creator.

“That… is charcoal,” he mutters as he taps the block with the spatula and begins fat shaming the abomination: “A very fat, large lump of pure charcoal.”

Your ignore his words and inquisitively pick up a piece, considering putting it in your mouth so his effort wouldn’t go down the drain.

Sensing what you were about to do, Phainon lunges—snatching your wrist before you can actually put the charred monstrosity anywhere near your mouth, eyes wide with horrified alarm.

He looks at you with wide eyes, his dramatic bum acting like you were about to swallow a sword like a circus performer.

“No—absolutely not,” he hisses, voice pitching higher with sheer panic as he pries the offending piece of charcoal out of your fingers and flings it back onto the pan with disgust. “I’m not letting you poison yourself over my terrible cooking!”

He looks genuinely distressed—like the very idea of you willingly eating something he made is personally offending him. “What is wrong with you?”

You blink at him. “Didn’t want your effort going to waste…and curiosity—mainly curiosity.”

Phainon’s expression goes from horrified outrage to completely exasperated—eye twitching in a mixture of irritation and fondness over the fact that, even in this situation, you can’t help but be the sweetest, most unthinkingly kind person in all the world.

“You’re impossible,” he mutters, dropping your wrist but not letting go completely. “And also an absolute moron for even considering eating something so damn inedible.”

“Quit being over dramatic. I wasn’t going to eat a lot, just a bit, a small piece. I know how too much can cause cancer or whatever.”

Phainon groans—shaking his head in exasperated defeat as he lets his grip on your wrist loosen and drop back to your side.

“You idiot,” he mutters, reaching out to poke your forehead with an air of fond irritation. “You can’t eat any amount of charcoal, let alone a ‘bit’.”

Phainon sighs, running a hand through his hair in a gesture that’s both frustrated and affectionate as his expression softens against his will. It really is endearing the way you’re so willing to do so many idiotic things out of pure kindness, but he can’t help but find it completely exasperating sometimes.

“I’d honestly rather you never eat anything I make if the alternative is you poisoning yourself over me feeling bad about subpar cooking,” he tells you. “Don’t be a self-sacrificing idiot.”

‘He’s one to talk,’ you think.

You let out a sarcastic sigh. “I really did want nice, hot, warm, fluffy, tasty, golden, delicious, sweet—”

“Okay! Okay! I get it!” Phainon interrupts your sarcastic, overly descriptive mantra about pancakes you spouted to guilt trip him. “I messed up an average batch of pancakes, sue me. I’ll even go ask Professor Anaxa to shoot me with his pistol.”

You frown and flick him playfully on the forehead, flashing him a big grin before it softens to a more genuine one. “So…what’s for breakfast now?”

Phainon blinks at that—looking like he actually hadn’t even thought about what comes next now that the ‘pancake’ attempt has failed.

He stares at the charcoal monstrosity in the pan with a look of mingled horror and helplessness, his gaze shifting back and forth between it and you with the air of a man hopelessly out of his depth.

“…Toast?” he offers, sounding like he’s questioning even as the word leaves his mouth. “I’m pretty sure I can manage toast—quit looking at me like that, I can manage toast.”

You raise a brow at his suggestion. “Plain?”

Phainon’s face lights up with relief as you actually accept the idea of breakfast food that isn’t actively poisonous.

The panicked ‘what if I just give her a banana or something’ thought that had begun to creep into his head dissolves back into the background, leaving him to shoot you a crooked grin as he reaches for the toaster.

“Plain,” he confirms. “I am perfectly capable of operating a toaster, at least. And a butter spreader.”

Frowning, you place a hand on his arm, interrupting its journey to the toaster. “Plain toast doesn’t really sound nice right now,” you admit.

Phainon looks like he’s trying not to pout as his entire breakfast plans come crumbling down, his shoulders slumping with reluctant, dramatic defeat.

He looks utterly pathetic as he turns to you with those damn puppy-dog eyes, a half-hearted attempt at being stubborn.

“Fine. What, exactly, do you want for breakfast, then, your highness?” he says with a hint of sarcasm.

An idea flashes into your head and you begin opening cabinets. “Did you use up all the pancake batter?”

Phainon lets out an irritated noise at the reminder of his failed attempt at pancakes, his lips pulling into a pout as he looks at the discarded pan like its very existence is mocking him. “Yeah,” he mutters with the air of a completely defeated man.

“All of it,” he continues. “I managed to burn batter, somehow. You’re looking at the person who can’t even make pre-made, pre-mixed pancake mix without turning it into charcoal. So… No pancakes.”

Guilt gnaws at you as you pause your search and look up at his defeated expression. “That’s…fine. We’ll just make some from scratch,” you say softly, your hand reaching up to ruffle his hair.

He perks up slightly, his pout fading away and eyes lighting up. He leaned into your touch, not minding that you were further messing up his already tangled locks.

“That would be nice,” he says dazed and eyes hair lidded. It was as if you had put him under a spell that rid him of all conflicting emotions. “Though I might not be a great help, I’m not a good chef.”

“I can tell,” you say as you rummage through the fridge, looking for ingredients. “But you don’t have to be a good chef to make pancakes.”

"You’re not helping,” Phainon mutters, shooting you a half-glare from behind his hair. He’s definitely trying for annoyed, but the effect is rather ruined by the fact that he’s still looking at you as if you are his everything. “I tried. Isn’t it the thought that counts?”

“Not when my stomach is empty. Even if you put all your thought and effort into making charcoal, I’m not risking diarrhea or food poisoning.”

“Don’t take diarrhea for granted,” he fires back, though there’s no disguising the smile forming at his face—he can’t deny the fact that he loves bickering with you. “A nice shit is every constipated man’s dream.”

“You disgust me. Be helpful and grab the flour and eggs,” you command. “You can do that, right?”

Phainon lets out a dramatic sigh as he reluctantly heads toward the cabinets with an air of wounded dignity.

“Of course I can get ingredients without making them into burnt charcoal,” he retorts, even as he obediently starts pulling out the necessary materials. “I may have no cooking skills, but I do have basic motor skills, I’ll have you know.”

After twenty minutes of mixing, pouring, and digging out the eggshells Phainon somehow managed to get into the batter, you both proudly hover over the bowl of delicious-smelling-not-charcoal-looking pancake mixture.

Phainon hovers at your side like an eager but slightly nervous assistant—handing you ingredients with the seriousness of a soldier delivering supplies to the front lines.

His earlier sulking melts away in favor of quiet fascination as he watches you give the batter a final stir, his nose wrinkling slightly at the way it splatters.

“It’s messy,” he mutters, but there’s no real complaint in his tone—just quiet amusement as he nudges a stray bit of flour away from the bowl with his fingertip. “You make it look easy.”

You quickly wash your hands before dipping your finger in the bowl, scooping up a bit of batter and holding it up to Phainon’s mouth. “Is it too sweet?’

Phainon lets out a low snort as you hold the batter-covered finger out towards him, skeptical and cautious after his previous attempt at pancakes.

But he’s also hopelessly weak to you, so it doesn’t take long for him to give in, opening his mouth in a silent request for the offered batter.

He keeps his gaze locked with yours—almost daring you to do something as he slowly takes your finger into his mouth, tongue gently licking the batter away.

His moist tongue caresses your finger for longer than necessary—but not long enough for you to scold him.

He pulls back with a slow, deliberate lick across his lips—eyes still locked onto yours with a look that’s equal parts smug and playful.

“Sweet,” he murmurs, still holding the contact and it’s impossible to tell if he’s talking about the batter or you.

Then—before you can react, he’s dipping his own finger into the bowl and holding it out with a grin, basically beaming at you. “Your turn.”

“Ew no, that’s hella unhygienic,” you hypocritically state, despite having done the exact same thing a few moment ago.

He grins at your immediate protest, all smug satisfaction and quiet mischief as he steps closer, waving his finger almost tauntingly.

“Oh, come on,” he mutters, still waving the finger covered in batter at you. “You can’t just offer me a taste and then refuse to reciprocate, hypocrite. That’s just rude.”

“I’ll take some with my own finger, thanks.”

Phainon’s grin fades into mock offense, obviously disappointed in the fact that you’re refusing to just take the bait and let him feed you. “Booooo,” he says, trying to hides his love struck smile. “Where’s the fun in that? Come on. Just do it. Let me feed you.”

He continues waving the batter-covered finger in front of your face, looking more than a little bit ridiculous as he does. He’s already planning at least six different ways to get revenge for your refusal, you can just see it in his eyes.

You just stare up at him, refusing to give in. “I said no—”

Phainon dramatically doubles over on the floor as if you physically struck him. “I’m beginning to think you actually hate me,” he whines.

You wince in guilt and decide to give into his trap. You really are giving off ‘I hate my boyfriend vibes,’ you begin to think.

“Fine, I do want to try, and I don't hate you, okay?” you begrudgingly state as you tug him back on his feet.

Phainon’s smile returns in a heartbeat when you gradually submit, but this time his expression is more mischievous than smug—clearly satisfied to have gotten his way despite the stubborn fight you put up to begin with.

“Good,” he murmurs, still holding his finger out invitingly. “Open up.”

Phainon’s finger hovers expectantly, his expression caught somewhere between victorious amusement and barely-restrained mischief.

And then, just as you move to take the bait—he jerks his hand back at the last second with a quiet, delighted laugh. “Gotcha,” he teases, grinning unrepentant, before popping the batter-covered finger into his own mouth instead. “Too slow, should’ve seen the look on your—”

And now hes standing outside of Mydei’s door with a pillow and flour dusted cheeks.

“She kicked me out—”

“No,” is all Mydei says before slamming the door in Phainon’s face.

After pounding on the door for a solid five minutes and causing Mydei’s neighbors to come out of their house, Mydei reluctantly opened his door and let the poor man in.

Phainon lets out a long, dramatic sigh as he slouches against Mydei’s couch—looking like the most wronged man in existence as he shoots his friend a wounded glare.

“She kicked me out,” he mutters, sounding thoroughly miserable—though the exaggerated pout is definitely more theatrical than genuinely upset. “She kicked me out! Just for one harmless prank. One. One.”

Mydei—who had already heard this exact complaint at least five times in the last ten minutes—just sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Go apologize.”

Phainon’s pout deepens. “…No.”

“Then get out of my house before I shove my leftover banana bread down your throat,” he mutters, annoyed at having to listen to Phainon recount his morning events.

Phainon huffs dramatically, sinking further into Mydei’s couch like a petulant child. He fiddles with the hem of his shirt—clearly sulking, but also very clearly thinking about swallowing his pride and crawling back home.

“…Fine,” he mutters after a long pause, shoulders slumping in defeat. “Fine. I’ll go grovel.”

He reluctantly drags himself up with the energy of a man who acts like his wife beats him for messing up rice. But he pauses before turning to shoot Mydei one last, wounded look.

“…You think flowers would help?”

Mydei stares at him with a disgusted expression, annoyed with his friend’s stupidity. “Yes. Obviously.”

Phainon sighs and nods—already mentally calculating how many bouquets it’ll take for you to forgive him. Maybe if hes lucky, you’ll forgive him before he even gets on his knees.

Phainon has never felt quite so thoroughly chastised as he does now, standing in front of your estate’s door after returning from the market with a truly impressive bouquet of flowers clutched in his grasp.

He’s fully aware of how ridiculous he must look, all sulking and pouting while holding a frankly ridiculous amount of flowers for one person. But in his head he’s still trying to decide if this is going to be enough to get you to let him back in the house.

He paces back and forth on the porch before hesitantly lifting his hand up, curling it into a fist and tapping it against the door.

He perks up the moment you open the door—only to stand there mouth agape when you slam the door in his face a second later.

Only after he nearly destroys your doorbell do you offer to hear him out.

“Please?” he tries, lifting the bouquet in an almost pleading gesture. “I’m sorry.”

Phainon’s expression falls into a sullen pout—eyes dropping to the flowers as he suddenly looks less like an apologetic partner and more like the world’s most pitiable kicked puppy.

“I got you flowers,” he mumbles, lifting the bouquet almost as if to show you in case you hadn’t seen it. He’s still holding on to some desperate, futile hope that you’ll just forgive him immediately.

“…Aren’t you going to even consider letting me back in?”

You open your mouth to say yes, because truth be told, you were never mad. You were just messing with him. But before the syllables leave your mouth you’re interrupted.

“Please,” he half begs. “I’ve never pleaded for anything in my entire life, but I’ll be on my knees for you right now.” His voice drops to an almost pleading whisper. “I can be better, no more playing with pancake batter, promise.”

“What?” you manage to croak out. Your surprise evident since you truly hadn’t expected him to get so vulnerable over something you did out of pettiness.

Unexpectedly, Phainon actually drops to his knees right then and there. Clinging to you like his life depends on it, staring up at you like you’re the only thing that matters.

“I’ll sleep on the floor and eat scraps and let you shove me around and thank you for it as long as I get to stay close and—”

“Wait—stop—” you try interrupting him, desperately trying to pull him up in embarrassment, scared your neighbors would hear.

“I’ll live on a goddamn leash. You can yank me around by the collar and I won’t say a word—”

You grunt in frustration and decide to go with the most effective method—silencing him by pulling him into a kiss.

He slots his lips against yours, body going completely still in an instant before he’s eagerly reciprocating.

The kiss lingers for a while, his hands moving up to cradle your face like you’re something precious. When he finally pulls back, it’s only just enough to press his forehead against yours, breathing ragged and uneven.

You decide to be generous and pull him into a hug, his form crumpling the second you pull him into your embrace—all the stubbornness and theatrics melting away as he immediately drops the flowers onto the floor with a soft 'thump' so he can wrap his arms around you properly.

“…Sorry,” he murmurs again—muffled against your shoulder as he presses his face into your neck, arms tightening like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he lets go. “Really sorry.”

And if his voice cracks slightly—well. You don’t mention it.

Your hands reach up to soothe his hair, fingers playing with the strands. And because you can’t hold it in anymore, you let out a laugh.

“Gotcha,” you say smiling, but there’s no excusing the affection in your voice.

Phainon lets out a low, indignant grumble that only partially manages to hide the fact that he loves the sound of your laugh.

He buries his face even further into your shoulder, fingers reflexively splaying against your back as he hugs you even tighter.

“You’re not funny,” he mutters—though the words are half-muffled by his current position and therefore lose most of their intended bite.

“I’m so funny,” you remark confidently before softening your voice. “I wanted to get back at you, sorry. I went too far, won’t do it again.”

Phainon huffs out an annoyed—and completely half-hearted—exhale against your shoulder. “Well, you’ve gotten your revenge,” he mutters, lifting his head just enough so he isn’t talking into your shirt—though he doesn’t loosen his arms at all. “I expect compensation. For my pain and suffering”

You agree before grabbing his hand, your fingers slipping through his and leading him back to the kitchen where the untouched pancake batter resides.

“These are a lot better than mine,” Phainon says contently after he finishes his serving. “They taste really good—but not as good as you,” he teases. That earns him another flick in the forehead.

You spend the next few hours making and consuming the pancakes together—the lump of coal forgotten as a hearty atmosphere settles. Happy and satisfied, you relax in each other’s presence until eventually the stars themselves come out to observe your peace.