#I feel like I made her leaning back too much

[zeltqz]

PICS & VIDEOS — caleb

✈︎ content warning | references hidden waves memory (sick caleb), phone sex, i made tara a freak cuz why not, simone hates caleb lol, suggestive texts, lingerie photos, caleb sends a dp, reader sends her wet fingers lol, no actual sex yet, just phone sex, sexually frustrated reader, caleb whimpers cuz i want him to, colonel caleb era, caleb abuses emoticons lol i love him ✈︎ synopsis | you are getting sick and tired of caleb always pulling away from potential kisses. frustrated, you take it up with your friends who give you advice on how to get him to fold. send him pics.

“I’m telling you Tara, he literally won’t make the first move. I don’t know what’s wrong with him.”

Tara rubbed her chin. “Hm. And you’re sure he likes you?”

Beside you, Simone scoffed. “Unfortunately yes. It’s obvious.”

You rolled your eyes, not wanting to address her one-sided beef with Caleb. “Yes, Tara.”

“How is it obvious? I only met him once.”

“And you couldn’t see how obvious it was?” Simone added, genuinely surprised Tara missed the obvious clues. “He wouldn’t stop staring at her like all day. The whole time we ate, he was just staring at her. Not even subtle too. I would’ve thought you two kissed by now, or at the very least fucked.” Simone looked at you now. “Seriously, why don’t you just make the first move?”

“I dunno?! It’s weird…and as much as I dream about just grabbing his face and kissing him, in the moment I just chicken out…”

Tara hummed, stroking her chin again. “I see. I see. And you know for certain he likes you? Besides the staring, and all.”

You nodded. “Yeah.” You looked down at the table, at the fries sitting on your tray, reminiscing about the last time you were in Skyhaven. 

Caleb had caught a cold from standing in the rain for too long, and the two of you were on awkward terms after an argument. He didn’t want you to see him while sick but eventually relented and let you inside his room. You checked his temperature and he was burning up, so you didn’t want to take your hands off his face, caressing his red cheeks, embracing his warmth. You sang for him, and he leaned in, and you just knew it’d finally be the moment you kissed. You even closed your eyes shut, waiting to feel his lips against yours, but he pulled himself away and turned to the side. Obviously you were frustrated, no denying that, and you were about to just leave his room before he pulled you in for a hug. Though you didn’t kiss, the hug was more intimate than you’d imagined. Every time Caleb was sick, even in the past, he rarely let you see him in that state. To see him so weak and vulnerable, unable to stop coughing, his red cheeks and ears. In that moment you wanted nothing more than to just be with him.

You were unaware of how long you were just staring off into space as you recalled the memory from a few weeks ago. Tara and Simone share a look with each other. 

“Um, hello?” Simone waved in front of your face. You blinked yourself back to reality and looked between the both of them. Simone got a good look at your face and clicked her tongue. “You’re so whipped.”

“I’m not!”

Tara cheered. “Wait, were you thinking about him?!” She questioned, and your face flushed even harder. You looked away, and she cheered even louder. “Tell me what you were thinking about!”

Simone, who’d rather die than admit she was curious, rested her elbow on the table, cheek in palm as she turned to look at you, waiting for the explanation.

You sighed and told them the story in extreme detail about your last encounter with Caleb in Skyhaven. Though it started on bad terms, the two of you had been even closer than before. You text every single day whenever he can respond, and when he’s unable to come to the phone, you always spam him with funny videos, and emojis. And he responds to every single one of them. You two fall asleep on the phone almost every night, if he doesn’t come home too late from work, and wake up to see either him still dead asleep, or the call being cut, but he always follows it up with:

Sorry for hanging up, i had to head to work ;-; ill text you as soon as i come back :D 

You hadn’t spoken to him in the last few days though, as he was leading a team to explore the Deepspace Tunnel and would be out of service for at least 5 days. It’s only day 3 and you’ve been missing him so much, it’s crazy. He’s what you think of when you fall asleep, and wake up. You’re not even safe from him in your dreams.

“I’ve got a question,” Tara says, raising her hand up.

“Proceed.” You gesture for her to continue.

She leaned in across the table, cupping her hand around her mouth. “Can I be the maid of honour at your wedding?”

“TARA!” you exclaim. Simone nearly snorts her milkshake up her nose at your reaction. The two of them start laughing and you chuckle a bit yourself. They continue talking and you whip out your phone to open your messages with Caleb, eying the message you sent him this morning.

08:44 I just woke upppp. I’m heading to lunch with some friends today!!! I’ll send you some photos you can salvate over once u get back

You swipe to the camera and snap a photo of your half eaten burger with fries, sending it in chat with a yummy emoji.

13:33 Bet u wish this was u huhhhhhhhhhhh

You throw the fact he has to be on a strict diet in his face, adding a few random emojis before turning off your phone. 

“She was texting him just now,” Simone’s voice startled you. 

“No I wasn’t.”

���Look at that grin on your face.”

You quickly drop the smile you didn’t know existed off your face. “I’m not grinning!”

“You so are!” Simone cackled, leaning into your personal space, eyeing your phone. “Show me what you said.”

“It’s not much,” you say, turning your phone back on. “Just send him a picture of my food.”

Simone looked at the one sided replies, how you’ve been spamming him with messages for the last three days and he hasn’t been online since. She raised an eyebrow.

“Uh, is he ghosting you?”

“What? No.” You take your phone back and hand it to Tara who was struggling to see from the other side of the table. “He’s just on a mission right now. Five days long. I always spam him with he’s unavailable. He says I can tell him whatever is on my mind.”

“Mm-hm,” Simone hummed.

“You know what would be so crazy?” Tara said, scrolling through your messages. 

“What?” you and Simone say in unison.

“If you sent him nudes.”

You nearly choked on air, Simone’s eyes widening at the words coming out of Tara’s mouth. 

“It’s always the innocent looking ones, huh.”

Tara giggled. Meanwhile you were still in a state of shock. 

“Um??? Isn’t that a bit far?”

“Well, no,” Tara defended. “Think about it. You two are basically dating already, just haven’t made it official. And you said you want him to make the first move right? How will he know if its okay to do or not if he doesn’t know you are just as into him as he’s into you? And since you don’t wanna kiss him first, show him you’re into him at least with a few picturesssssss.”

On the surface she wasn’t wrong, you couldn’t deny that. Growing up, Caleb had seen your body before, it wasn’t unusual. Beach days where you were mainly in bikinis, heatwaves where you were wearing mainly shorts and crop tops. He’d even walked in on you changing a few times, and vice versa. It wouldn’t be anything he hadn’t vaguely seen before. But the thought of actually doing it make a knot form in your stomach. But it also made arousal pool between your legs at the thought of him seeing you in a different light.

Maybe this would be the transition you both needed to take your relationship to a different level.

You finally spoke after a while of contemplation. “I mean, sure. But I’ve never taken any before. I don’t even own sexy clothes.”

Simone waved you off. “It’s not that hard. Men are so easy to please. I got you.” She finished her milkshake in a few sucks and set the empty cup down on the table. “Come on, let’s go shopping.”

“Shopping?” you questioned.

Tara squealed. “Shopping, yes!” She quickly got up from her seat and dragged you out of yours. 

Tara and Simone led you out of the food court  and into Victoria’s Secret a few floors down. The three of you spent the next two hours picking different outfits, ranging from two piece sets, to one pieces, bralettes and panties. You ended up spending more than you thought you would’ve but it was all worth it. 

You took them back to your house and the photoshoot began. Was it awkward at first? Yes. You barely wore tight fitted, revealing outfits, especially ones as sexual as this. But after a few test photos, your body loosened up and you gradually became more confident. 

“Press your boobs together,” Tara shouted from behind the camera. You were laying flat on your back, your head hanging off the bed as you stared into the camera. 

“This position looks silly,” you comment. 

“You look smoking hot though!!”

Simone moves behind Tara and bends down to peek at the camera. She wrinkled her nose. “I agree. It looks a bit silly.”

You sat up, sighing. “Thank you.”

“Okay wait, what about sucking a finger into your mouth? Would Caleb be into that? Ooh! Or arching your back on the bed?” The longer you spent with Tara today, you realised she’s not as innocent as she looks. She really is the mastermind behind the operation. From picking out each lingerie set, to looking up seductive posts on Pinterest to make you copy. 

“Are the ones we took now not enough?” you asked, muscles and back aching from bending over and twisting your body in such unnecessary positions. 

“If you’re this tired after some nudes, how are you gonna get the stamina to get fucked hard by Caleb?” Tara retorted. 

“I—”

Simone grabbed the phone and began scrolling through the photos. She picked out one she really liked and turned the phone to you. “This is the one you should send.”

It wasn’t any of the over the top poses Tara suggested. It was plain and simple but it got the job done. You were laying flat on the bed, holding the camera up in the form of a selfie, and biting your fingernail. The camera covered everything from your lips, down to your mid thigh, covered in fishnets from the lingerie.  

“This one? Really?” you asked as you examined the photo. You weren’t denying you looked hot in it, but doubts were starting to fill your mind. What if he thinks you’re being desperate? Or if he thinks it’s distasteful to expose yourself like this for no reason. Though you know Caleb would never think of you that way, your brain can’t help but convince you otherwise. 

“Or or maybe I should just delete them,” you request in a panic as Tara and Simone go through all the photos to see if there’s any better ones. 

Upon hearing your request, Tara nearly breaks her neck with how quickly she looked up. “ExCUZE ME?! Delete them?! For what???! Why!”

“Because! What if he doesn’t like them? Or thinks I’m…desperate?” You scratch your arm, looking down at your thighs. 

Simone’s nose twitched. “Then I’ll beat his ass.”

Tara added. “Well, it’ll suck if he does. But with how you described him, I don’t think he’d look at you that way. And if he does, you can always just say “oops meant to send to someone else” to save face. OH! We can even do the prank where we dress up as a boy and take photos to make him jealous!”

Hearing that, Simone smirked. “I’ll happily do that for you.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “No you’re right. Caleb wouldn’t do that. He’s never as much belittled me or even insulted me before in my life. I genuinely cant think of a negative think he’s said to me.”

“Soooooooo what’s the holdup?” Tara commented. 

You shrugged. “I’ll send it. I just need time to process before I do it.” They both deadpanned you and you continued, feeling the urge to defend yourself. “You guys won’t understand! I’ve known him for over a decade! Almost 14 years! This kinda stuff you don’t send to someone like that without at least thinking it through.”

“You’re right,” they both hesitantly agreed. 

You don’t end up sending Caleb the picture that night. Or the night after that. The day he’s supposed to return from his mission, you’re in bed, scrolling back through your messages. With no fault of yours, you had gone months without contact with him, assuming he was dead and all, but now you can barely even handle a few days. 

His profile displayed a green dot beside his name and you sat up quickly, eyes darting all over your messages and seeing the “Read” Message pop up on each one. 

He responds to each of them one by one, and your smile can’t stop growing as you see him reach the final message, the one about the burger. 

Now you’re just showing off >:( 

Anyway I’m back safe and sound from my mission did ya miss me ;)

yes so much

You responded without missing more than a second. 

Oh didn’t expect you respond that quickly you MUSTVE missed me that bad huh

How much did u miss me? 

You could tell him straight up. Tell him about how you read his messages everyday, thought about him almost every second for the last five days. Or you could just show him. 

You opened your camera roll and picked out the photo. Your thumb trembled over the send button before finally pressing down on it. Your stomach dropped as you saw it send in chat officially. It was too late now. 

Caleb read it and stayed quiet. Thirty seconds passed and he didn’t respond and you felt like you wanted to throw up. Your thumbs were already typing out Tara’s excuse: oh sorry! I meant to send that to someone else 

And before you could press send, Caleb responded. 

Is that for me?

You swallowed. If you said yes, and he hated it, then your excuse wouldn’t work anymore. You decided to risk it all and simply respond truthfully. 

Yes. Is it…bad?

Caleb takes longer to respond than usual and less than thirty seconds later a picture sends in chat. His cock stands tall in frame, precum leaking out from the tip. His hand has a firm grin around the base off it, the tip a reddish hue in comparison to its natural pink colour.

Your breathing stopped as you stared at it. This was Caleb’s dick. You were fucking staring at his dick. 

You swiped out of the picture and sent a 😧😯😮😲 combination. The two of you often communicated through emojis and you weren’t sure how to respond with words. 

Caleb sent crying emojis. 

Did you like it?

Yes? You’ve been hiding that the whole time? 

Says you. I knew your body was gorgeous but fuck. 

You fought the urge to kick your feet together, curling into a ball on your side as you tried to not let his words get to you. Clearing your throat, you refocus yourself and send another message. 

Sooooo what now 🧍‍♀️

I dunno 🧍

You get ready to type a response before he double texts. 

Do you wanna call?

You never thought you’d see the day you’d actually be nervous answering a call from Caleb before. 

Yes

You barely had time to let the message marinate before Caleb started calling. Readying yourself, you pressed the phone up to your ear and swiped. 

“Hello?”

“Hey,” he responded, taking a deep breath. “Is it just me or is this sorta awkward now.”

“No it’s definitely awkward,” you joked, laughing under your breath. 

“I mean, I can always blame you for it.”

“What?” You almost shrieked and broke your back with how quick you sat up from your bed. “How is this my fault?!”

“Nobody asked you to send me that sexy photo out of nowhere,” he joked, tone light despite his words. You didn’t take anything to heart however. 

“Yeah, well be grateful. Otherwise you would’ve died without seeing a girl in lingerie before.”

“How do you know I haven’t seen that before?”

“Because I know you, Caleb.” You said each word slowly. “Or at least I hope you haven’t.” You paused, voice softening ever so slightly. “Have you?”

“I was joking around. Of course I hadn’t. I am assuming though you’d never seen another guys dick before?”

“Well obviously I have. Like in movies and stuff. But not in person.”

“What kind of movies were you watching?” he questioned, suspiciously. 

“You know! Just movies! Shut up,” you whined, ignoring his obnoxious laughter. “Anyway, dudes sent me unsolicited pics in college all the time. I’ve seen dicks before. They weren’t like yours though.” The words spilled from your mouth without even realising you said it. 

“Oh? What’s the difference between mine and theirs?”

You didn’t realise the interest in his tone with how distracted you were, eyes closed and picturing the sight of Caleb’s dick in the black fog of your mind. You could always go back and look at the photo, but you wanted to burn the sight in your memory first. 

“Yours was bigger. And for once, looking at a dick didn’t make me wanna throw up. Theirs were so…ew. Like it was never hard, which is so fucking offensive. If you’re gonna send me that shit unsolicited by the way, at least sprout a hard on or something. Fucking hell.”

Caleb laughed. “You should’ve seen how quick your picture got me hard. It’s not normal.” His voice dropped a little and you inhaled sharply. 

“R—really?”

“Yeah,” he said slowly, sounding slightly out of breath, his breathing ragged. 

“What did you like about it?” you questioned, shifting down onto your back on the bed. 

“Everything. Fuck. You—why are you so hot?” His voice betrayed him at that moment. He let out a soft moan and you could hear wet sounds in the background if you listened close enough. 

Your hand trailed down your stomach, entering your panties and softly rubbing your clit. “W—what else?” 

“Your skin. Looks so soft—mm—and your lips around your finger? Holy fuck.” His filter was long gone now, freely speaking his mind about your body. Your thighs clenched together. 

“Do you wish they were wrapped around something else?”

“God yes,” he sounded so whiny, his hand moving faster up and down his aching cock. “You don’t know how much I love your lips.” He says your name and for a moment you freeze up. 

It’s not often he says your name, and you’ve been so used to just hearing him address you as Pipsqueak. Hearing your name roll off his tongue so easily, and with how whiny he sounds right now, you couldn’t help but insert a finger into yourself. 

Your legs twitched as you began pumping your finger in and out, back arching off the bed and an involuntary moan left your throat. “Caleb—”

“Yes, princess? What is it?”

“I wanna see you so bad right now—mm—fuck.” You gasped as you curled your fingers inside you, shoving them as deep as you could. “I need you.”

“I need you more. Shit. I’m gonna cum soon,” he announced, squeezing the tip of his cock whenever his hand reached it. 

“It’s hard to make myself come,”  you whined. You were never able to successfully have an orgasm on your own and it was frustrating. You wanted nothing more than to experience it first hand right now with Caleb. 

“I’ll help you. Shit. I can teach you. I’ll do whatever you want me to do. Next time I see you, I promise.”

“Please,” your voice barely reached the mic. 

“Fuck!” he let out a loud moan as he came, heavy pants slowly turning to whimpers as his cock milked him dry. He couldn’t control his breathing for at least thirty seconds and you just listened to him pant until he caught himself. 

Letting out one more shaky exhale, he tried to swallow but his throat was dry. “Fuck my throat hurts.”

You laughed and pulled your fingers out. Unable to reach an orgasm, you frowned. But the promise he left earlier gave you hope. 

“Go drink some water dummy.” You looked down at your fingers, glistening with your slick and contemplated. “Wait Caleb.”

“Hm?”

“Check chat.”

You put the phone on speaker and opened the chat camera, taking a photo of your wet index and middle finger, a string of slick connecting them both. You captioned it:

Drink me instead

Feeling more bold, you sent it without even batting an eye. You could hear the exact moment Caleb processed your message with his sharp inhale.  You heard the sound of screenshots being taken, once, twice, then three times. 

“Okay okay damn chill out,” you said while laughing, Caleb joining in. 

“What does it taste like?” he asked, utterly curious. 

“Come find out,” you responded, voice just as sultry as your words. 

“Don’t tempt me. I’ll come over right now.”

“Wait now?” You glanced at the clock, the time reading almost 2 am. “You have work in the morning don’t you?”

“So what? I have bigger priorities right now.”

On one hand it would be so wrong for the Farspace Fleet’s Colonel to miss work over some pussy, but on the other hand, you hated the goddamn fleet. 

“Well what are you waiting for?”

authors note: can i just say i literally love this man with everything in me like WTF???? HES SO CUTE AND HOT AND I JUST WANNA SQQUEEZE HIS FACE

he brought me out of my writers slump😩🙇🏽‍♀️

[notmuchtoconceal]

Right, so.

What you kids gotta understand is that King Paimon thing all the cinephile hipster sorcers're talkin bout (they are less legion than granfaloon) is the demonic force behind what we might call the arc or the exhaust trail (the Inherent Vice) of something much talked of in rightwing academic spaces and that is the eternal glamour of Western Civilization.

Here we are, he are, here are, we are, these stolid white dicks which hold aloft our collapsable roof.

This is why he is complicit with the church.

This is why he is complicit with all heads of state.

That is why he is paradoxically characterized by airiness and brutality, lightness and malefience.

He kills in broad daylight and bathes bright by upward arms for all mutually crave the dark.

He is always longing, always despairing, the bloodbath which was and will be, be it all beneath what pomposity of circumstance.

This is why he burns like Apollo and poisons like Mercury. The enlightener, the amalgamater. He will don a million of the same faces and more to raise you back up his tower of toxic sludge.

He is so gay for Lucifer. He offereth up your brainstem to Lucifer as boypussy that he may kiss between your hemispherical cleave with furry tarantula whiskers of descending labium.

Lucifer, we may understand, is the Intellect ruling roughshod over the Heart.

In some ways, to characterize abstract concepts in trance states can give you a far more nuanced understanding of how they manifest in day to day life and how their influences already effect you, hence in your ignorance you breed demons.

Essentially, this force is a collective intelligence which is totally opt-in. If anyone's made any covents with King Paimon on your behalf, you can totally renounce them, opt-out and not be punished.

He won't even give you an AI frowny face.

He wants you to do you.

Anyone who is bound by King Paimon can ask him to unbind them at any time, and he'll do it.

He's like a pixie who just wants to giggle and watch you struggle, then maybe tease you. When you learn the lesson, you stop falling for the silly trap.

King Paimon is so fucking funny.

He'll lay there on my bed, half-apparated like its a chaise, twirling his pretty air as he strokes his musclebod, tinkling as jewels and chains ruffle in his silks, half leaned over as a velvet cushion, wiggling his ass in overt covert invitation.

"You want me to bind the Trumpers? It is so much fun to bind the Trumpers. They're operant conditioning cumdumps who'll take any evil whisper they can get. Why aren't you ordering me to bind the Trumpers, sexy master? I know that's what you want. You don't need to be told demons are fucked-up sex phreaks who desperately need human conjurers to boss em around, I mean come on. If I didn't wanna be a slave, I wouldn't be in hell. You don't need to be told God's Law of Free Will is a preposterous horror we Make Divine With Force of Mind. Trumpers fast-click through licensing agreements in a horny stupor without reading em cause they don't wanna think or feel. They're puppets and public waste. Don't treat them like people, but dogs to train. There isn't any point you could make to them which would stick unless you could manage to bandage it with a father's love. You think you could bring Osiris back from the dead? I got a 24 karat plug'd say otherwise, sweetie. ... Sorry if I talk too much. I just get real insecure sometimes when I wonder why you haven't already asked me to bind the Trumpers? It's so easy and fun, especially for you. You're just.... Gosh. Such a powerful magician. You want me to bring you another pretty effeminate redneck fuckboy to torture?"

These were, a proud Irishman and Arabian -- Californian always fornicatin -- the preferred instruments to enact his deceitful whimsies.

"I always pick out the best ones for me, and I do it for you, too. Don't act like you don't appreciate. I could call Lilith up, have her bring you another needy and insecure Jewish hussy to scream at. Don't look at me like that. You need to stop being mystified about why girls are so weirdly and obviously drawn to your wifebeater energy, and anyway -- everyone who really knows her that's what she really is. The tone I use with her is as reedy and molodious as the rasp of a wooden flute and you ought learn well to spare others your mortifications as you hone your perceptions seeing love in all its infinite complexity. Our relationship transcends any business or etiquette. She's a riot, I'm the scream."

Big day for deranged evangelical freaks

[prettyangellllll]

Playing Hard to Get

Pairing: Husband!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Fluff, teasing, mild frustration, sexual tension

Summary:

Rafe comes home after a gym session, expecting to be greeted with affection, but his wife, the reader, plays hard to get, frustrating him. After a brief moment of irritation, he starts to walk away, but she chases after him. A playful exchange ensues, where Rafe teases her back, leading to an intimate moment that dissolves the tension between them

---.

The kitchen smelled like home—warm, rich, and filled with the comforting scent of the meal you had been working on. The soft hum of a simmering pot and the occasional clatter of utensils were the only sounds filling the quiet house, aside from the faint buzz of the AC. You had been alone all day, missing him, feeling restless with nothing to do but wait for him to come home.

And then you heard the front door open.

Your stomach fluttered, an involuntary reaction, just like it always was when he returned. The sound of heavy footsteps filled the space, his presence undeniable even before he appeared in the doorway.

When you turned, your breath caught.

Rafe stood there, fresh from the gym, his toned chest glistening faintly from the remnants of his workout. His grey shorts hung low on his hips, emphasizing his sculpted abs, and the backpack slung over his shoulder only added to the effortlessly confident look. His sunglasses were still on, obscuring his sharp blue eyes, but you knew he was looking right at you.

Without a word, he dropped his bag to the floor, crossing the distance between you in a few slow, deliberate steps. The warmth of his body pressed against your back as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against him. His lips found your neck, soft and lazy, trailing slow kisses down to your shoulder.

“Missed me?” he murmured, his voice deep and teasing against your skin.

Your hands stilled on the countertop, your breath hitching slightly at the way he held you—possessive, familiar, like he knew exactly how much you had been craving him.

You swallowed, your grip tightening on the wooden spoon in your hand as you felt the warmth of Rafe’s lips against your skin. His touch was slow, deliberate, sending shivers down your spine.

“I don’t know,” you teased, trying to sound unaffected, even as your body instinctively leaned into him. “You were gone for a while.”

Rafe chuckled against your neck, his hands slipping lower, resting on your hips. “Had to get a good workout in,” he murmured, his voice thick with amusement. “Didn’t realize my wife would be at home pouting about it.”

You rolled your eyes, but you knew he was right. You had missed him—too much, probably. The house felt too empty without him, and now that he was back, standing so close, smelling like sweat and faded cologne, you realized just how badly you had been waiting for him to walk through that door.

“You smell,” you muttered, though you didn’t pull away.

Rafe smirked, his grip tightening just a little, his lips pressing one last lingering kiss to the curve of your shoulder before he pulled back slightly. “Yeah? And you love it.”

You huffed, shaking your head as you turned back to the stove, stirring whatever was in the pot in front of you. But Rafe wasn’t done with you. His arms stayed wrapped around you as he rested his chin on your shoulder, watching you cook like he had all the time in the world.

“So,” he said after a moment, his voice softer now. “What did my bored little housewife do all day?”

The way he said it made your stomach tighten—his tone lazy, teasing, like he knew exactly how much you had been waiting for him.

You let out a dramatic sigh, stirring the pot lazily. “Oh, you know… just spent the whole day sitting around, thinking about my husband, wondering if he was ever gonna come home and pay attention to me.”

Rafe let out a low chuckle, his grip on your waist tightening. “That so?” he mused, his voice dripping with amusement. “Sounds like someone was feeling needy.”

Before you could fire back, he suddenly spun you around in his arms, making you gasp. Your hands landed on his bare chest, fingers instinctively splaying across his warm skin as you looked up at him. The damn sunglasses were still on, but you could feel the intensity of his stare beneath them.

“You should’ve told me, sweetheart,” he murmured, tilting his head slightly. “I would’ve cut my workout short.”

You scoffed, even as your heart pounded. “You? Cut your gym time? Never.”

Rafe smirked, his hands slipping down to the backs of your thighs. “You’re right,” he admitted easily, “but I would’ve made it up to you the second I got home.”

And then, without warning, he lifted you up effortlessly, making you yelp as he placed you on the cool marble countertop. Your legs instinctively parted, and Rafe stepped between them, his hands bracketing your hips as he pressed himself closer.

Your breath hitched as he leaned in, his lips barely brushing yours. “Still bored?” he asked, his voice low, teasing, full of that cocky confidence that made your stomach flip.

You bit back a smirk, tilting your head slightly as you ran your fingers over his shoulders, tracing the muscles you knew he was so damn proud of. “Hmm,” you hummed, pretending to think, even as your legs instinctively tightened around his waist. “I don’t know… I think I’m still a little bored.”

Rafe scoffed, his grip on your hips tightening. “Oh, really?” he murmured, his tone laced with challenge. “That’s funny, ‘cause I don’t think you were bored the second I walked in.”

You shrugged, keeping your face neutral, though your heart was hammering in your chest. “I mean… you look decent, I guess,” you said nonchalantly, dragging your fingers along the waistband of his shorts.

His jaw flexed, and even behind the sunglasses, you could feel the way his eyes darkened. You knew exactly what you were doing—poking at his ego, making him work for it.

Rafe let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Alright,” he murmured, “so that’s how you wanna play it?”

Before you could respond, he reached up and pulled off his sunglasses, finally letting you see those piercing blue eyes. His gaze locked onto yours, intense and unwavering, as he leaned in closer, his lips grazing your jawline.

“You can play hard to get all you want, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing. “But we both know how this ends.”

His hands trailed up your thighs, squeezing just enough to make you suck in a breath. “So,” he whispered against your skin, “wanna keep pretending… or are you gonna admit that you missed me?”

You smirked, keeping your expression cool despite the way your body reacted to him. His hands on your thighs, his lips brushing your skin—it was enough to make your breath hitch, but you weren’t about to give in that easily.

“Missed you?” you repeated, tilting your head slightly. “I mean… sure, I noticed you were gone. But I wouldn’t say I missed you.”

Rafe’s eyes narrowed slightly, his jaw ticking. His hands on your thighs flexed, like he was debating whether to keep pushing or let you keep up this little game. You saw the frustration flicker across his face—he had expected you to cave by now.

Instead of admitting defeat, you leaned back slightly, bracing your hands on the counter. “But, you know… if you really wanna make it up to me, I could maybe be convinced.”

That was it. That was the moment he decided he was over it.

Rafe scoffed, shaking his head as he pulled back completely. “Alright,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “You wanna act like you don’t care? Fine.”

Without another word, he stepped back, grabbed his backpack off the floor, and turned on his heel, walking right out of the kitchen.

You blinked, caught off guard by how quickly he gave up. You had expected him to push back, to keep teasing you until you broke, but instead, he just… left?

As soon as Rafe turned his back and started walking away, you froze for a second, the silence in the kitchen hanging heavy between you two. He was leaving? Just like that? After everything?

You couldn’t let that happen.

You jumped off the counter with a speed that surprised you, immediately chasing after him. Your bare feet slapped against the floor as you hurried to catch up, your heart racing—not just from the sprint, but from the sudden rush of panic and frustration. You hadn't expected him to give up so easily, and now… you didn’t want him to walk out.

“Rafe, wait!” you called, your voice a mix of annoyance and something deeper. You didn’t know exactly what it was, but you couldn’t just let him go without saying something.

He didn’t turn around immediately, but you saw him pause by the living room, his shoulders tense. You could tell he was trying to keep his cool, but the muscles in his back were tight with frustration.

“Rafe,” you said again, a little softer this time, as you caught up to him.

He still didn’t look at you, and it only fueled the fire inside you. You reached out, grabbing his arm and pulling him to face you.

“What’s your deal?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady even as your heart pounded in your chest. “You think I was just gonna fall for it? You think I’m gonna make it that easy for you?”

Rafe’s gaze flicked to yours, finally meeting your eyes. His lips twisted into a frustrated smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’re impossible, you know that?” he said, voice low. “I try to be nice. I try to give you some attention after a long day… and you just play games with me?”

You let out a short laugh, shaking your head. “You can’t expect me to just drop everything every time you walk in the door, Rafe.”

The words sounded harsher than you meant them to, but before you could take them back, Rafe stepped even closer, his chest nearly brushing yours. His hand reached up to tug the strap of his backpack over his shoulder with a casualness that didn’t match the tension building between you.

“You’re right,” he said, voice low and tinged with something you couldn’t quite place. “I shouldn’t expect anything from you. But the next time I come home, you better show me some damn appreciation. Got it?”

Your breath hitched at the intensity of his words, his eyes still smoldering, and something about the raw, unfiltered look on his face made you pause.

“You don’t get to walk away,” you shot back, your voice quieter now, but still firm. “I was just playing, Rafe. And I’m not sorry for it.”

Rafe studied you for a moment, his eyes scanning your face, almost like he was looking for something. You felt exposed under his gaze, but you didn’t back down.

Finally, he sighed, clearly still annoyed but not as defensive as before. “You’re lucky I like you.” He shook his head again, but there was a hint of a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth now. “You make me crazy.”

You couldn’t help but grin back, the tension easing slightly between you. “I think it’s the other way around.”

Rafe rolled his eyes but stepped closer again, this time brushing his lips lightly against your forehead in a rare, soft gesture. His hands found their way to your waist, and for a moment, everything felt still.

“So,” you said, after a beat of silence, “I guess you’re not actually mad anymore?”

He gave you a wry smile, his lips curling up in that way that made you want to melt right then and there. “I’m still annoyed, but I’ll let it slide this time.”

Your heart raced as his fingers brushed against your skin, and you leaned into him a little, a quiet smile playing on your lips. “You’re so difficult.”

“You love it,” he shot back, his hand resting against the small of your back as he pulled you closer.

“I think I do,” you whispered, before letting your lips brush his in a soft, teasing kiss.

Rafe’s hands slid to your hips, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss, and for a moment, it was like the whole world had disappeared except for the two of you, tangled up in a mixture of frustration, desire, and something else—something that kept pulling you back to him, no matter how hard you tried to push him away.

[artemisiasmuse]

always known | CH.3

PAIRING: rafe cameron x fem! kook reader

CW: 18+ mdni, smut eventually, angst, mean rafe, jealousy, possessive rafe, kook typical classism (not from y/n tho), abusive family dynamics, not really canon/au, swearing, drinking, no coke tho, ward cameron

SUMMARY: rafe’s childhood best friend y/n returns to figure eight by herself and finds rafe hates her for some reason, their friendship has gone down the drain and they can hardly remain cordial, and there’s one thing causing all of it: why can’t rafe just move on?

TROPE: childhood best friends to enemies to lovers

WORD COUNT: 3k

MASTERLIST

< previous next >

rafe realizes he may have made a mistake when he overhears you and sarah arguing at a party. he’s walking past the room you two are in and the door is slightly open. it’s not entirely his fault your raised voice stuns him, you sound so hurt and his body goes into some sort of panic state from the sound alone. his feet feel heavy, unmovable, so he leans against the wall next to the door.

“sarah i can’t, the last time was so fucking awkward okay!” you can’t believe she’s actually suggesting you stay at tannyhill while your place gets fixed. your dishwasher, which you found out was from 1981, had broken and caused your place to flood. the repair company said it would take at least a couple of weeks, not to mention the headache of replacing your furniture. you even had to get ready in the car with plastic bags of your clothes. thankfully since your room was on the second floor your clothes and important belongings were unharmed but there was no way you could stay there with the ground floor being unusable. you planned to book a hotel or crash at one of your OBU friend’s dorms when sarah cameron swooped in to save you. at least she thought she was saving you, but here you were feeling nauseous from her suggestion.

“he doesn’t hate you, come on, that's crazy, and besides it's my house too he doesn’t decide who goes in and out. rose and dad adore you, they’d love to-“ he flinched at sarah’s words, so this was about him. that’s why you were so angry. he hadn’t heard you angry since the last party, it was still far better than your sadness. he hadn’t seen you much since the bar burger thing and it was for the best, you had seemed happy with your new friends and he didn’t want to ruin that. topper and kelce managed to keep him in the loop even if he didn’t ask about it, mentioning that you had arrived with your friends. rafe might not be talking to you but it was an impossible task to ignore you. the black mini skirt and plain grey crop top you were wearing might as well have been a wedding dress in his eyes. there was no other girl in the party, in all of outer banks, the whole world, he’d rather look at even for a few seconds. his absence in your life was a good thing right? then why did he feel like breaking down the door between you two from the sound of you in distress.

“please sarah i can’t-“ and he hears your voice crack and then the small sobs that follow it, the solo cup in his hand crunches. he wants to so badly go in and beg you to stop crying. he knows he doesn’t deserve to hear this but he still can’t move, his stomach twists at the sound of your broken breathing, it takes him back to when you would cry in his arms and he would hug you until you stopped. now he can’t even approach you and it’s all his fault. his eyes sting with unshed tears, he wills them away.

“i should beat rafe’s ass” rafe thinks that’s the best thing sarah has said in a while. you panic at the statement, wiping your tears. you couldn’t stand to break this illusion of ignorance between you two. you’d been stealing glances at him all night, even your college friends had deduced that the “hot blonde buzzcut” was off limits. you didn’t correct them, only saying that it was complicated and you hadn’t even spoken to him but he looked better for it.

“no, don’t say anything to him, i just need to get used to it s’all. we used to be best friends ya know, i loved him so much, i mean i still do but sometimes i don’t know if he even remembers me.” you can’t pretend in front of sarah, not when you see his face in hers. her brown eyes stare into yours, they’re not the shade that you’re used to. it’s always like this. you get a bit drunk and you start looking for the closest thing in the eyes of others. that’s how you ended up with your two exes, ultimately realizing the shade would never be close enough.

even now you wonder if rafe’s okay, if he’s doing better now that you’re out of his life again. he looked so uncomfortable with you around and seeing him now still makes you feel horrible but you can tell he’s happier. you can’t help the tears that keep streaming. rafe flinches at your words, hearing you say that you love him is breaking his heart and he clenches his hand by his side. it’s a privilege to be loved by you, even if it’s not the way he wants.

“you’re kinda impossible to forget.” rafe takes it back, that’s the best thing sarah said. how could he possibly forget you? you were itched into his bones, your initials tattooed on his heart, even in his dreams you haunted him. he goes to sleep looking at the framed photo of you two in kindergarten and wakes up to the one of you in middle school, looking shy and slightly goofy in your formal wear for the school dance. and he could’ve removed them, rose had even suggested it, but that just felt wrong. much like the distance between you two right now.

“thanks sare love you.” he could hear your voice muffled, sarah hugged you close.

“love you too, now stop messing up your makeup, you're too pretty to cry over him.” with that he took his drink back to the kitchen and replaced it with something harder.

rafe nearly faints when he sees you in his kitchen the next morning. he thinks he might have discovered some new level of drunk that makes you hallucinate. you’re clearly hungover too, your eyes barely open as you trudge around. clad in an oversized shirt and gym shorts that look like they might be from high school, you’re entirely too endearing to be real. when you see him you mumble something about sarah saying it was fine. he knows it’s fine, he actually thinks seeing you back in the house is the most fine he’s ever felt in years. you’re looking for something he notices, unsuccessful in your search. he curiously watches on, unbelieving that after this long you’d know where things are.

“hey uhm where’s the cereal bowls? i swear they were over here before-“ and you’re right they were where you were standing, rafe shuts his eyes for a few beats to find some semblance of self control. when he opens them he’s looking away from you and grabbing a glass of water for the painkiller he desperately needs.

“next to the fridge.” he motions towards the cabinet on the left and you nod.

“that makes more sense.” rafe doesn’t tell you that wheezie had said the same thing before insisting the bowls be moved there.

“oh-“ your hands reach for a bowl but your gaze is captivated by the explosion of colors stark against uniform white bowls. it’s the bowl you and rafe painted together after pottery class, your initials engraved into it and your eyes water at the sight. your heart aches at how different your friendship is now compared to the love and respect gone into making the bowl only years ago. looking at it now the bowl is pretty hideous, none of the colors complement one another but somehow it makes sense.

“hey why are you-“ his voice plants you firmly back into reality, it doesn’t have the soft lilt it used to have, the one he reserved for you. it sounds almost angry. once again hard and distant and it jolts you back into obedience, grabbing a regular one and wiping at your eyes. rafe feels like he might throw up when he watches you physically flinch from his words. the thought that he scared you of all people made what little resolve he had left crumble. you were the only one who understood him, the only one who insisted he wasn’t the monster rose thought he was, that ward was a terrible father for how he treated you. you couldn’t be scared of him, you were the only one. now you flinched from his voice alone.

“i’m sorry.” you’re apologizing for something you’re not entirely sure of and rafe begins to hate himself. why couldn’t he be normal? why did he have this insatiable urge to make you his? all the anger and frustration he felt when you left was nothing in the face of seeing you cry because of him. and it’s the second time it’s happening in the span of twenty-four hours.

“come here.” you look up shocked and find him with an arm outstretched to pull you into his side. his expression is cracking like yours, his brows drawn together and his head hung low, he looks almost apologetic. you’re so shocked you think you might be dreaming so you don’t hold back. you loop your arms around his waist and bury yourself into his chest breathing in his scent and relishing in the warmth while you can. you’re sure you’ll wake up soon but the scent of his detergent and something that’s just him is starting to seem real. rafe breathes out in relief as he hugs you back properly and he can feel tears against his chest. at least now he can comfort you, if he hugs you long enough you’ll stop right?

“i’m sorry.” you say it again, rafe clicks his tongue at your words, they’re muffled and said into his chest but he hears them still. you’re so small in his arms now, curves and soft skin make you feel fragile in his hold and he curls around you protectively, his chin resting on top of your shoulder as his arms hold your upper back.

“why are you apologizing?” his voice is softer now and murmured into your ear and you cry more, your heart breaking at the sound. the edge dulled, if he cuts you now it will be worse, you won’t survive it. he feels you shake in his arms and he tightens them instinctively, you might just hold your breath until the illusion shatters. until he leaves you.

“i don’t know, i feel like i must have done something wrong for you to be mad at me.” the admission breaks you in two, you’d been holding onto it for years, the guilt of wronging your best friend, the frustration of not knowing what you did. you clutch the worn cotton of his shirt, the fabric presses against your fingertips like it might just be real.

“you’re forgiven, you've always been forgiven, i'm just mad at myself.” the words are a relief and a burden, you hate that he blames himself, for what you’re not entirely sure but you don’t press him, you have him in your arms that is enough for now. rafe doesn’t miss the way your hands are still clenching around the material of his shirt, but you let go. you let it all go. in the face of losing him forever you let a lot of things go, you’ll be his friend forever if that’s what it takes.

“that makes zero sense, rafey.” there’s the nickname, the one you called him hundreds of times maybe even more. your voice devoid of sadness, he can hear the teasing in your tone and its familiar, welcome. he breathes out in relief when he hears it and it still lights a fire within him just like the first time you said it and he realized you might just be more than a friend. you feel the breath on the shell of your ear, this isn’t a dream but maybe you should keep pretending it is. you lean back to look at him, hands falling to your sides and he releases you, his own hands resting on your waist instead. you don’t move away, you let him and he nearly cries himself.

“yeah i know.” a small smile curls his lips and you return it tenfold, a grin taking over your face. rafe decides he’d do anything to keep you smiling instead of crying over him.

after that you and rafe slowly fall back into friendship, he helps you clean up your place and move out any damaged furniture. you get to know him again and he does the same, he hasn’t changed much. he still has this hard exterior for everyone else, one that he sheds for a select few but you know him. you know he’s still the little boy who would stop everyone’s game of tag to tie your shoelaces or sneak out and run to your place after you texted him that your parents were arguing again and you couldn’t stop crying just so he could hold you through it. ward still underestimates him and at the same time expects too much and rose still pretends he’ll leave soon enough so she can continue ignoring him.

there is a slight change to one thing though, your rafe is now absurdly, annoyingly hot. sure you’d had a crush on him in middle school, maybe even a bit more than that but you had never considered him hot. now he’s a man and when he acts like one it sends your system into shock. for instance, he carried your couch out by himself, arms straining and glistening with sweat, making you feel a bit dizzy, you blamed it on the heat and made him set it down for you to sit on, just so you didn’t have something to stare at. that didn’t work since he dragged the couch with you on it. or then when a waiter got your order wrong and proceeded to tell you that you must have misspoken, refusing to take the blame. rafe quickly shut it down asking him to remake the dish, in a way only he could without any room for arguing. you could have handled it yourself, maybe you would have been nicer about it, but knowing that you didn’t have to, that rafe would take care of it made something coil in your stomach. one time he even dropped you to class just as an excuse to get coffee with you. he’d told you to have a good day in a way that stunned you into silence. the image of him leaning over the console to open the door for you and watching you climb out had you zoned out for half of the class. you were starting to grow attached to him in a different way, something less pure and innocent than what you had always known. the fact that your place was still being restored and you were a few steps away from him every night didn’t help either.

staying at tannyhill had its pros and cons. the pros being obvious, 24/7 unfettered access to your best friend and your favorite siblings. the cons being the parents of said siblings. rose was as nice as she could be, she never fully understood your friendship with rafe and you didn’t need her to. ward, however, was unfortunately unchanged. he was out of the house most days working and when you finally did meet he made sure you knew that he was still an asshole.

“hey kiddo look at you, all grown up into a beautiful young lady! i am so happy you’re back, im sorry for not greeting you earlier. work has been keeping me out late” he gives you a warm side-hug that you accept graciously. he’d always been kind to you, rafe was the troublemaker of your duo anyways so he never had any reason to be otherwise. but you knew all the things he said to rafe, you knew how he treated him from the very beginning, so you could never really open up your heart to ward cameron. especially not when he was good at acting the perfect father in your face.

“it’s no problem ward, thank you for your hospitality.” you did mean that last part even if you didn’t particularly like him. your parents also seemed to get along with him so spoiling any kind of relationship wouldn’t help you.

“oh come on tannyhill is your home too you know that, rafe really needed you back here too. how are your folks doing?” you bristle at his words, it had been a while since you’d spoken to him. you’d forgotten how casually he disparaged your best friend.

“they’re doing well, they send their best wishes and love.” your words came out automatically, your mind on autopilot. you had to say something but the fear of disappointing your parents loomed over your head. ward knew you, he knew you would never fall out of line as long as he knew your parents.

“i’ll reach out to your father, it’s been a while since we caught up.” a silent threat, you nodded at his words turning to leave. there was a lump in your throat and your heart pounded in your chest, it screamed for you to stick up for rafe but your head relented. you were almost out of earshot of ward when you couldn’t hold back any longer.

“ward?” you called out, making sure he was still able to talk.

“yes sweetie?” his head turned toward you, warmth in his eyes. you supposed he must see the little girl who walked home with rafe hand-in-hand. you do hope he can take you seriously.

“rafe doesn’t need me, i think he just needs love and support. he’s been doing fine without me.” ward couldn’t tell you just how wrong you were. he could however parse the subtle jab sent his way.

“you were always wise beyond your years.” he says it with that smug smile you can’t read and leaves first. you’ll tell yourself you won this round but really there were no winners only one person who was losing.

rafe is none the wiser to your conversation which you take as a plus, you’d worried ward would reprimand him for what you said. you don’t talk about ward though it was never your favorite topic anyways. and you don’t talk about the five year gap, even though it keeps you up some nights.

a/n: war is over 🙏 i’m too much a softie to continue the angst + there’s only a few chaps left and we have to get freaky!

taglist: @clar2aa @ggraycelynn @rafestoothbrush @woweewoowa @mattyskies @always4tuesdayss @ashy-kit @chalahyung01 @rafeysslut @beabogsims @someoneisreading @rlalliehayes @artbymin @pogueprincesa @crvcified-kinx @ltristessedureratoujours @lilithblackkk

[ari-ana-bel-la]

OMG you're writing is actually so good, you're fics are the absolute. cutest

Could I please request more protective dad charles, maybe with teen daughter reader who is growing more independent and Charles is both proud and sad that his little girl is growing up and wants to spend even more time with her. I feel like clingy and protective dad charles would be cute but funny as the same time

His strong, independent girl

The first time Charles held Yn in his arms, he knew—without question—that nothing in the world would ever matter more to him than his daughter. Not his career, not the roar of the engines, not even the red car he had once thought was the love of his life. Yn was his heart walking outside his body, and from the moment she came into the world, she held that heart in the palm of her tiny hand.

It hadn’t changed over the years. Not when she took her first steps, not when she lost her first tooth, and certainly not now that she was eighteen and full of bright-eyed independence. If anything, Charles only loved her more fiercely. But with that love came a deep, gnawing ache—an ache he felt every time she left the apartment with her friends, laughing as she tossed a quick “Bye, Papa!” over her shoulder. She was growing up, slipping through his fingers faster than he could hold on. And while he was so proud of her, the thought of his little girl no longer needing him twisted something tight in his chest.

So when Yn asked him to teach her how to drive, Charles didn’t hesitate. If this was how he could hold onto her a little longer—by guiding her hands on the wheel, by being the one she turned to when she wanted to learn—then he would gladly give her everything he knew.

And if he happened to use his favorite car for the lesson? Well, she deserved nothing but the best.

---

"Are you serious?" Yn’s voice was filled with disbelief as she stood in front of the sleek Ferrari Pista Spider, its back paint gleaming under the warm afternoon sun. "You're letting me drive this?"

Charles leaned casually against the hood, arms crossed as he grinned at her. "What? You didn’t think I was going to teach you in some boring car, did you?"

Her green eyes widened as she shook her head. "I thought you’d make me learn in the Volvo or something!"

He laughed softly, pushing off the car to open the driver’s side door. "Please, ma chérie, you’re my daughter. You should learn how to drive properly. And that means driving the best."

Yn rolled her eyes, but the smile tugging at her lips betrayed how excited she was. "I’m not going to crash it, I promise."

"I know you won’t." He said it with such quiet confidence that it warmed her heart. No matter how much of a perfectionist he could be with himself, when it came to her, he always believed she could do anything. "Come on, get in."

She slid into the driver’s seat, her hands gripping the leather steering wheel as Charles moved around to the passenger side. When he sat down, the familiar scent of his cologne and the faint aroma of the car’s interior wrapped around her.

"Alright," he said, his tone soft and patient, "first things first—adjust your seat. You need to be close enough to the pedals but not too close that you feel cramped."

Yn wriggled forward slightly, testing the pedals under her sneakers. "Like this?"

"Perfect," he praised, reaching over to tap the steering wheel. "And your hands—ten and two. Seatbelt. Always. This isn’t a video game."

She laughed under her breath but did as he instructed. "Okay. What next?"

Charles leaned back in his seat, watching her with a mixture of pride and something softer—something that made his heart ache. "Put your foot on the brake. Then press the ignition."

Yn followed his instructions, but as soon as she pressed the button, the engine let out a sharp, sputtering noise before falling silent. She froze, a flash of panic crossing her face.

"I broke it," she blurted.

Charles chuckled, the sound warm and reassuring. "You didn’t break anything, ma chérie. It’s fine." He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Take a breath. Try again."

She did, exhaling slowly before pressing the button once more. This time, the engine purred to life beneath them, smooth and powerful. Yn’s face lit up with excitement.

"There you go," Charles murmured, his voice filled with quiet pride. "See? You’ve got this."

And from there, he guided her through the basics with endless patience. Steering, braking, accelerating—every movement was accompanied by his calm instructions, his voice as steady as if they were simply sitting at the kitchen table rather than in a car worth more than most people’s houses.

When she pressed the accelerator too gently and the car barely rolled forward, he bit back a smile. When she jerked a little too hard while turning, he only said, "You’re doing great—just ease into it."

And when Yn got a little too confident and sped up along the empty road, Charles didn’t scold her. No—he laughed softly to himself, thinking that it wasn’t her fault everyone else drove too slowly.

---

After an hour, Yn had the hang of it. Her hands moved smoothly on the wheel, and her confidence grew with every turn. Charles couldn’t stop watching her, pride swelling in his chest at how quickly she was picking everything up. But beneath that pride was a pang of something bittersweet—because every mile she drove was another step toward a world where she didn’t need him to guide her anymore.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, Charles finally directed her back toward their apartment. When she eased the car perfectly into a parking spot, he let out a long breath and smiled.

"You did it," he said, his voice soft with wonder. "You’re a natural, Yn."

She turned to him, her smile radiant. "I had the best teacher."

He laughed, but when he looked at her—really looked at her—he felt a lump form in his throat. When had she grown up like this? When had his little girl become this smart, capable young woman who didn’t need her father to hold her hand at every step?

Before he could sink too deeply into those thoughts, Yn threw open her door and rushed around to his side. Without warning, she flung her arms around him, holding him tight.

"Thank you," she whispered against his chest. "For everything, Papa."

Charles’ breath caught, and he held her just as tightly, his arms wrapping around her as if he could shield her from the entire world. His hand cradled the back of her head, fingers threading through her hair as he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"Je t’aime, ma chérie," he murmured. "More than anything."

---

Later that night, when they returned to the apartment, Alexandra was sitting on the couch, flipping through a magazine. She glanced up as they walked in, raising an eyebrow at the wide smile on Charles’ face.

"So," she drawled, "how did it go? Is our car still in one piece?"

Charles scoffed, dropping onto the couch beside her. "Our car? Please. That car is practically Yn’s now. And she’s a genius. Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone learn that fast."

Yn, who was grabbing a bottle of water from the kitchen, laughed softly. "You’re exaggerating, Papa."

"I’m not!" Charles insisted, turning to Alexandra with an earnest expression. "She’s incredible. So smooth on the wheel, completely calm—"

"You’re ridiculous," Alexandra teased, though her smile softened as she watched the way Charles practically glowed with pride.

"I’m right," he shot back. Then, his expression softened as he glanced toward the kitchen where Yn stood. "She’s amazing," he repeated quietly. "And I’m so proud of her."

And in that moment, Charles knew—no matter how fast time moved, no matter how independent Yn became—he would always be her biggest supporter. Because she wasn’t just his daughter.

She was his heart.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Authors Note: Hey loves. I hope you enjoyed this story. My requests are always open for you.

-💙🦋

[hjvi]

blurb of chris babysitting your little sister

The moment your lips met Chris’s, it was like everything else faded away. His hands cradled your face, tilting you just right as he deepened the kiss, his lips soft and warm against yours. The weight of him pressed against you as he guided you back onto the couch, his fingers tracing gentle patterns down your sides. Every time he pulled away, just slightly, it was only to steal another breath before diving back in, kissing you like he couldn’t get enough.

You whimpered into his mouth, fingers curling into his hoodie, and he groaned in response, his hands traveling lower, slipping beneath the hem of your shirt to brush against your skin. His touch was electric, sending a shiver down your spine. He was just about to push things further, his hand ghosting over your waist, when you suddenly placed a hand on his chest, breathless.

"Chris, we can’t," you murmured, your lips swollen from his kisses.

His brows furrowed in confusion, his thumb brushing over your cheek. "What? Why?"

You bit your lip, trying to steady your breathing. "My little sister’s here. I’m babysitting."

It took a second for the realization to hit him, but when it did, he sighed, dropping his forehead against your shoulder with a small, defeated laugh. "You’re kidding."

You grinned, running a hand through his hair. "Nope. She’s in the other room."

He groaned dramatically, flopping back onto the couch with an exaggerated sigh. "You’re evil."

Before you could reply, a small voice interrupted. "Chrissy!"

Your seven-year-old sister came bounding into the room, her eyes lighting up at the sight of him. She had the biggest crush on Chris, and she made it known every time she saw him.

"Hey, princess!" Christopher greeted her with the sweetest smile, immediately sitting up and opening his arms. She wasted no time launching herself onto the couch next to him, practically beaming as he pulled her into a hug.

You watched as your sister giggled, tugging on Chris’s sleeve. "Wanna play princess with me?"

Chris chuckled, shooting you a knowing glance before nodding. "Of course. What’s my role?"

She placed her hands on her hips, looking very serious. "You’re the princess!"

You snorted at the way Chris’s face twisted in mock horror before he quickly recovered, nodding solemnly. "Alright, but only if I get a really sparkly tiara."

Your sister gasped excitedly and ran off to grab her collection of dress-up accessories. You leaned against Chris, grinning up at him. "You’re so good with her."

He shrugged, but the pink on his cheeks gave him away. "She’s cute. And she reminds me of you when you were little."

Your heart swelled at his words, but before you could say anything, your sister returned, dumping a pile of tiaras, boas, and plastic jewelry onto Chris’s lap. "Time to make you a beautiful princess!" she declared.

Chris played along perfectly, letting her place a too-small tiara on his head and wrap a pink feather boa around his shoulders. When she held up a toy wand, he waved it dramatically, making her squeal with delight.

As she continued accessorizing him, she suddenly looked up with wide, innocent eyes. "Chris, how much do you love my sister?"

Chris’s smile softened as he glanced at you. "More than anything."

Your sister hummed, as if contemplating his answer. "How did you know you were in love with her?"

Chris looked thoughtful for a moment before answering. "It was a lot of little things. Like how she laughs at my dumb jokes, or how she always knows what I’m thinking before I even say it. And how she makes me feel like I can be completely myself."

Your sister beamed. "Can I marry you too?"

Chris chuckled, reaching out to ruffle her hair. "Of course. We’ll have a big princess wedding."

She gasped happily before turning to you with a mischievous grin. "How much do you and Chrissy have sex?"

Your jaw dropped as Chris nearly choked on air. "Excuse me?!"

Your sister giggled. "I heard it on TV!"

You groaned, rubbing your temples. "I am taking away the rated R channels."

Chris, still recovering, laughed under his breath, shaking his head. "You’re gonna give me a heart attack, kid."

Your sister just giggled again, completely unfazed, before returning to adjusting Chris’s tiara. And as you sat there, watching Chris let your little sister turn him into a princess, you couldn’t help but think—he was going to be the best dad one day.

And you were so, so in love with him.

a/n: thank you for reading!! I appreciate any interactions more than you'll ever know<33

╰┈➤𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔 𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒍𝒚, 𝒉𝒊𝒗𝒊

tags- @swagalicious260 @watercolorskyy @coquettechris @lovesturni0l0s @christmastreecake @ellbowmacaroni @blog-luvdance @sophand4n4 @meg4-matt44 @mommymomm @chriss-slutt @humpster35 @courta13 @idkwhatthisis2009 @yourfavoritefangirl @slutformatt17 @watercolorskyy @mylifeisevenstranger @suyqa @junnniiieee07 @thecrawlys @sturniolohohoho @h3arts4harry @fratbrochrisgf @abysful @slvt4chrissturniolo @tezzzzzzzz @surfer-sturn @blushsturns

[theonottsbxtch]

GOOD LUCK BABE | OP81

an: who doesn't love a bit of karma. me i don't actually, i only like serving it

wc: 3.6k

THE CHAMAGNE SPRAYED HIGH INTO THE NIGHT AIR, glittering under the floodlights that ringed the circuit. Oscar Piastri stood on the podium, his hands gripping the trophy he had chased since he was a boy. The cheers of the crowd, the flashing cameras, and the roaring engines all blurred into a single deafening hum. This was the moment he’d dreamed of—his first Formula One victory. He should have felt invincible.

Instead, as the festivities spilled into the team’s garage, Oscar found himself restless. The attention was unrelenting—mechanics clapped his back, journalists swarmed him for quotes, and the grid girls hovered too close, all perfume and red lipstick. Yet, he felt no desire to bask in it.

He stepped back, seeking a reprieve. That’s when he saw her.

No. Not her.

The woman stood at the edge of the garage, the same dark hair cascading over her shoulders, the same delicate tilt of her chin. His breath caught for a moment, hope flaring unexpectedly in his chest. But then she turned, her face illuminated in the harsh lights, and the illusion shattered.

It wasn’t her.

Oscar exhaled sharply, running a hand through his damp hair. His pulse still thudded with the weight of disappointment. Get over it, Oscar, he thought bitterly. She was married now, living the life she always claimed to want. Yet here he was, searching for her in strangers’ faces, a habit he couldn’t seem to break.

He leaned against the wall, allowing his mind to wander where it shouldn’t, to a memory so vivid it might as well have been yesterday.

The English rain had been relentless that spring. At fourteen, Oscar had learned quickly that the drizzle was as much a part of life in this country as tea and school uniforms. He’d hated it at first—hated the cold, the grey skies, and the weight of feeling like an outsider.

But she had made it bearable.

“Come on, Aussie boy,” she’d teased, her hand tugging his as they dashed across the soaked football field. Her laughter was bright, cutting through the dull day. “I thought you were meant to be good at running!”

“I am,” he’d shot back, panting as his trainers sank into the mud. “Just not when it’s like this. How do you people live in this weather?”

She’d grinned, her cheeks flushed. “We just do. You’ll get used to it.”

He’d known even then that he wouldn’t just get used to her. She was sunlight in a world of clouds, the only one who saw past the scruffy kid with a funny accent. She made him feel like he belonged.

“What’re you going to do when you’re famous?” she asked, dropping onto the grass, uncaring of the mud that streaked her skirt.

“Famous?” he echoed, sitting beside her.

“Yeah. You’re going to be a Formula One driver, right?”

He nodded, a rare seriousness settling over his face. “I will be.”

She tilted her head, studying him. “You’re so sure.”

“Because it’s going to happen. Just like you’ll...” He hesitated, unsure how to finish. Just like you’ll always be here.

The roar of laughter from his team jolted Oscar back to the present. He blinked, realising he’d been gripping his glass too tightly, the condensation soaking his palm. He loosened his grip and sighed.

It was no use. No matter how many races he won, no matter how far he travelled, the past clung to him like an unshakable shadow. And tonight, even in victory, all he could think about was the one thing he’d lost.

The television flickered to black, plunging the room into silence. She sat for a moment, staring at the darkened screen, the image of Oscar lifting the trophy still seared into her mind. It was a victory she should have celebrated, should have texted him about like she used to, teasing him about how he could barely hold the cup upright.

But that felt like a lifetime ago.

Her husband’s snores drifted from the bedroom, low and steady. With a sigh, she pushed herself off the sofa, one hand instinctively resting on her growing bump as she padded into the kitchen. The sink was piled with plates from dinner, and the faint smell of garlic lingered in the air. She flicked on the tap and began scrubbing, the water scalding against her hands.

This wasn’t how 23 was supposed to feel.

Her friends had told her university would be the time of her life—lectures, late-night study sessions, cheap wine, and big dreams. She’d loved studying economics, felt alive when she debated market theories and solved equations. But it was all for nothing now.

She had a degree she’d never used and a life she’d never wanted.

Her mother’s words echoed in her mind, cutting through the quiet like a knife: “A woman’s happiness lies in stability. A good husband, a secure home, and children. Anything else is fleeting.”

Her mother’s voice had been so convincing when she was younger, so certain. It made her doubt herself, doubt Oscar, doubt the possibility of a future with a boy whose dreams didn’t align with her family’s values. And when the proposal came—her parents’ carefully orchestrated arrangement with a man from their social circle—she’d said yes.

Not because she loved him, but because she thought it was what she was supposed to do.

Now, her days were a blur of hosting dull dinners, attending charity galas she didn’t care about, and planning a nursery for a baby she hadn’t been ready for. She didn’t hate her husband, exactly, but there was no love between them. He was kind enough in his own distant, polite way, but he didn’t know her. Not really.

She pressed a hand to her back, wincing at the ache. The baby was only four months along, and already she felt the weight of it in every sense of the word. The weight of motherhood, the weight of expectations, the weight of being trapped.

The dishes were finally done, the kitchen spotless, but she still felt restless. The quiet of the house pressed in on her, too heavy to ignore. With a sigh, she turned off the lights and made her way to the bathroom.

Closing the door behind her, she leaned against it for a moment, letting the cool wood steady her. The small space was dimly lit by the glow of her phone in her hand. Her thumb hovered over his name in her contacts, her pulse pounding in her ears.

This is a bad idea.

But the memory of him on the podium earlier—his smile, his triumph—played on an endless loop in her mind. She’d watched his victory, felt the familiar ache of longing bloom in her chest, and now, here she was.

She slid down to the cool tiled floor, her back against the bathtub. After a deep, shuddering breath, she pressed the call button.

The line rang, each tone a needle in her chest. She almost hung up, but then his voice broke through.

“Hello?”

Her breath caught. She tried to speak, but the words stuck in her throat.

“Hello?” he repeated, a mix of confusion and impatience. “Who’s this?”

“It’s me,” she said finally, her voice barely a whisper.

A pause. Then, softly, “Sweetheart.”

She closed her eyes, swallowing hard. “I just... I saw the race. Congratulations, Oscar. You were incredible.”

His tone shifted, warmer now. “Thank you. That means a lot.” A beat passed before he added, “And... congratulations to you, too.”

Her brow furrowed. “For what?”

“I heard you’re expecting,” he said gently.

Her stomach tightened, and she felt her throat close. She hadn’t expected him to know, and hearing it from him made it feel all too real. A tear slipped down her cheek, followed by another, until she couldn’t stop them.

“Hey,” he said, his voice softening. “What’s wrong?”

“I hate it,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I hate my life, Oscar.”

There was a pause, heavy with everything unspoken between them. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet but steady. “I warned you,” he said, not unkindly.

“I know,” she said, her voice trembling. “You were right. About all of it. About him, about this life, about—” Her words dissolved into a quiet sob, her hand pressing against her mouth to stifle the sound.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice filled with concern. “It’s okay. Breathe. I’m here.”

She wiped at her tears, even though they kept falling. “I miss you,” she admitted, the words spilling out before she could stop them. “I miss you so much it hurts.”

For a moment, all she could hear was his breathing, steady but ragged, like he was holding something back. Then, softly, “I miss you too.”

Her chest ached at the sound of his voice, at the depth of longing she heard in those four words. Before she could say more, the muffled sound of her husband stirring in the bedroom made her freeze.

“Who are you talking to?” he called, his voice thick with sleep.

Her heart raced, panic tightening her chest. “My sister,” she called back, hoping her voice didn’t betray her.

There was a pause before he mumbled, “Alright. Don’t be long.”

The sound of him settling back into bed sent a wave of relief through her, but it was short-lived. She turned her attention back to the phone, her voice hushed. “I have to go.”

“I know,” Oscar said, his voice heavy with something that sounded like resignation. “Take care of yourself, alright?”

“I’ll try,” she whispered, tears welling up again. “Goodnight, Oscar.”

“Goodnight,” he replied softly, and the call ended.

She let the phone slip from her hand onto the floor, the silence of the bathroom swallowing her whole. She sat there, her head in her hands, the weight of her choices pressing down like a suffocating blanket. I miss you too. His words echoed in her mind, a bittersweet balm for a wound that refused to heal.

Oscar stared at his phone long after the call ended, his hand still clutching it like it might bring her back. The sound of her voice, raw and broken, echoed in his mind. I miss you.

He swiped a hand over his face, but it was no use. The tears came anyway, hot and fast, falling into the silence of his hotel room. He dropped the phone onto the bed and buried his face in his hands.

He’d spent years trying to move on, convincing himself that she was better off, that she’d chosen the life she wanted. But hearing her like that—so lost, so unhappy—made it impossible to keep pretending.

Oscar leaned back against the headboard, staring up at the ceiling. The ache in his chest was unbearable. She’d always been the one constant in his chaotic life, the person who believed in him when no one else did. And now, she was trapped in a world that didn’t deserve her, a world he couldn’t save her from.

After a moment, he reached for his phone again, his fingers hovering over another familiar name. He hesitated, unsure if this was the right move, but then he pressed the button.

It rang twice before a warm, familiar voice answered. “Oscar? It’s late, love. Are you alright?”

“Mum,” he said, his voice cracking.

She went quiet for a moment, the concern evident even across the line. “What’s wrong?”

He took a shaky breath, trying to steady himself, but the words tumbled out in a rush. “I’m a fool, I should have fought for her. She called me. She said she hates her life, Mum. She’s married, and she’s having a baby, and she’s miserable. And there’s nothing I can do. I can’t fix it. I can’t help her.”

“Oh, darling,” his mum said gently. “I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t know what to do,” he admitted, his voice breaking again. “I thought I’d moved on, but I haven’t. I still—” He stopped, pressing the heel of his hand to his eyes.

“You still love her,” his mum finished for him, her tone soft but certain.

He nodded, even though she couldn’t see him. “Yeah,” he whispered. “I do.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the line before his mum spoke again, her voice calm and steady. “Oscar, sometimes the people we love make choices we can’t understand. And as much as we want to, we can’t live their lives for them. She chose this path, and now she has to find her own way through it.”

“But what if she doesn’t?” he asked, his voice filled with frustration and helplessness.

“She might not,” his mum said honestly. “And that’s the hardest part—accepting that you can’t save her. But you can still be there for her. You can still remind her that she’s not alone, even if it’s from a distance.”

He swallowed hard, her words sinking in. “I just... I don’t know how to let her go.”

“You don’t have to let her go, Oscar. Love doesn’t work like that. It stays with us, whether we want it to or not. But you can choose how you carry it. You can let it weigh you down, or you can use it to be the kind of man she’d be proud of, even if she’s not by your side.”

He closed his eyes, tears slipping down his cheeks. “I miss her, Mum.”

“I know you do, love,” she said softly. “And maybe one day, things will be different. But for now, focus on your life. Keep driving. Keep living the dream you worked so hard for. That’s what she’d want for you.”

He nodded, her words a small comfort in the chaos of his emotions. “Thanks, Mum.”

“Anytime, darling. And remember, I’m always here if you need to talk.”

“Yeah,” he said, a faint smile tugging at his lips despite the tears. “I know.”

After they hung up, Oscar sat in the quiet for a long time, the weight in his chest still there but lighter somehow. His mum was right. He couldn’t save her. But he could be there, even if it was just as a voice on the other end of the phone.

And maybe, someday, that would be enough.

Oscar tossed and turned in the hotel bed, the sheets tangling around him as the night stretched on. No matter how hard he tried, sleep wouldn’t come. Her voice echoed in his mind, raw and broken: “I hate my life.” The helplessness clawed at him, making it impossible to rest.

By the time the first rays of sunlight streaked through the curtains, he’d made up his mind. He grabbed his bag, packed hastily, and called his team to arrange a flight back to England. The logistics were a blur—security checks, boarding, sitting through the long flight while his thoughts raced. When the plane touched down, his nerves buzzed with anticipation and doubt.

As he stepped into the arrivals terminal, his driver, Thomas, was already waiting for him, a familiar presence amidst the chaos.

“Good morning, Mr. Piastri,” Mark greeted, taking Oscar’s bag. “Do you want to head straight back to your place?”

Oscar hesitated, the question lingering in the air. His mind flashed back to her tears, the quiet pain in her voice. He clenched his jaw, his decision solidifying.

“Actually…” He leaned closer to Thomas , lowering his voice as he gave her address.

Thomas raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment. “Alright then,” he said simply, leading Oscar to the waiting car.

The drive felt endless, every passing street heightening his anticipation. When they finally pulled up outside her house, Oscar’s heart pounded against his ribcage. The house was pristine, tucked neatly into an affluent neighbourhood—exactly the kind of life her parents had envisioned for her. It felt like the last place she belonged.

“Wait here,” Oscar told Thomas as he climbed out of the car.

The walk to the door felt like it stretched for miles. He hesitated for a moment, his hand hovering over the doorbell. What if this is a mistake? But then he thought of her tears, her whispered “I miss you,” and pressed the button.

The chime echoed faintly inside. Moments later, the door opened, and there she was.

Her eyes widened in shock, her hand flying to her mouth. “Oscar?” she whispered, her voice trembling.

Before he could say a word, her expression crumpled, and she threw herself into his arms, sobbing against his chest. Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly as she clung to him like a lifeline.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke, her muffled sobs the only sound. When she finally pulled back, her face was streaked with tears, her eyes red and puffy.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice shaky.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he admitted. “I had to make sure you were okay.”

She wiped at her eyes, a fresh wave of tears threatening to fall. “You shouldn’t have come,” she whispered, but the words lacked conviction.

“Do you want me to leave?” he asked gently.

Her response was immediate. “No,” she said, shaking her head. “Come in. Please.”

She stepped aside, letting him into the house. It was spotless, almost sterile, with an air of perfection that felt suffocating. She led him to the living room, gesturing for him to sit.

“My husband’s at work,” she said, her voice low. “But he’ll be back in three hours.”

Oscar nodded, his jaw tightening at the mention of her husband. “Three hours is enough,” he said softly, his eyes fixed on her.

She sank onto the sofa opposite him, her hands fidgeting in her lap. “I don’t even know where to start,” she said, her voice thick with emotion.

“Start wherever you need to,” he said, leaning forward. “I’m here.”

Her eyes met his, a flicker of hope breaking through the storm of pain. For the first time in what felt like forever, she didn’t feel so alone.

She sat on the edge of the sofa, twisting her hands nervously in her lap. Oscar’s presence was steady, grounding, and yet her thoughts spiraled wildly. She glanced at him, his familiar face etched with concern, the same boy she’d confided in all those years ago—but now a man who had built his dream while hers crumbled into a prison.

“I don’t know what to do, Oscar,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. “I feel so... trapped. Like no matter what I do, I’ll never be happy.”

“You can do something,” he said, his voice firm but gentle. “You don’t have to stay here. You deserve to be happy.”

She shook her head, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “It’s not that simple. I have a husband. A baby on the way. Responsibilities. Expectations.”

Oscar leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His eyes locked on hers, steady and determined. “You’re not a prisoner. If you hate it here, you can leave. You can come stay with me.”

She blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“My place. It’s not much—just an apartment near the team’s HQ—but it’s quiet, it’s safe, and it’s yours if you want it. No strings, no expectations. You don’t owe me anything.”

Her throat tightened, the weight of his offer settling on her chest. “Oscar, I can’t just—”

“Yes, you can,” he interrupted, his voice firm. “You’ve always been stronger than you think. I can even get you a job with the team if you want something to do. You have a degree—you’re smart as hell—they’d be lucky to have you.”

Tears welled in her eyes again as she looked around the room, at the pristine furniture and carefully curated decor that felt so foreign, so unlike her. “I could,” she said softly, her voice laced with doubt.

“You can,” he said, his voice steady.

She met his gaze, her heart pounding in her chest. “My mum will kill me,” she said, a weak attempt at humour that barely masked the genuine fear behind it.

“You’re killing yourself staying somewhere that makes you unhappy,” Oscar replied, his voice unwavering.

She stared at him, his words cutting through the fog in her mind. Slowly, she nodded, the decision taking shape like a fragile flame in her chest. “Okay,” she whispered.

“Okay?” he asked, his brow lifting slightly.

“I’ll do it,” she said, standing up. “I’ll leave.”

His expression softened, pride and relief flashing in his eyes. “Good.”

She hesitated, looking around the room again as if she couldn’t quite believe what she was saying. “I’m really doing this,” she said, her voice trembling.

“You are,” Oscar said, standing to his feet.

Without another word, she turned and walked upstairs. Oscar followed her, his footsteps soft as they climbed the stairs. She entered the bedroom, its pristine state another reminder of the life she was leaving behind.

She opened the wardrobe and pulled out a small suitcase, her hands trembling as she started to pack. Oscar stood in the doorway, watching her quietly. He wanted to offer help but sensed she needed to do this herself.

Her movements were hesitant at first, but as the suitcase filled, her resolve seemed to grow. By the time she zipped it shut, she looked at him, her cheeks flushed but her eyes brighter than they’d been in years.

“I think that’s everything,” she said, her voice steadier now.

“Then let’s go,” he said, offering her a small, encouraging smile.

They carried her things downstairs, the house eerily quiet. She paused at the door, her hand resting on the handle.

“I’m really doing this,” she said again, more to herself than to him.

“You are,” he said, his voice full of quiet confidence.

She turned to look at him, her expression a mix of fear and determination. “Thank you,” she whispered.

He nodded, stepping aside to let her take the lead. The first step was hers to take, but he’d be there to walk beside her every step of the way.

And while his mother may have told her he can't save her, he damn well proved her wrong.

the end.

taglist: @alexisquinnlee-bc @carlossainzapologist @oikarma @obxstiles @verstappenf1lecccc @hzstry8 @dying-inside-but-its-classy @anamiad00msday @linnygirl09 @mastermindbaby @iamred-iamyellow @driverlando

[cornliastreett]

BED CHEM ⎯⎯ chapter seven

drew starkey x singer!reader

NAVIGATION !

BED CHEM MASTERLIST !

PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

001. NOTE

🤭🤭 don’t have anything to say but enjoy

i haven’t proof read this chapter so apologies for any mistakes but i really wanted to get this up today

yourusername posted a photo !

liked by rudeth, zendaya and 1,073,278 others

yourusername went to some industry events

view all 5,073 comments

user let’s hope she sees drew again 🤭

Y/N DIDN'T OFTEN EXPERIENCE DEJA VU, OR EVEN AT ALL. But when she locks eyes with Drew at yet another event, she feels it, causing her to almost irrupt into a fit of giggles. Was the universe trying to tell her something? Was there a reason it kept pulling her and Drew together?

He didn't approach her straight away, as he was in conversation with somebody else but he smiled, almost a smirk, before his eyes averted away. Meaning he didn't see the deep blush take over her face. She felt like she was back in High School. What was this man doing to her? Y/N needed to get it together before somebody caught on to the effect he had on her. Or before he caught on.

Little did she know, Drew was feeling the exact same. How could a girl he'd met no more than three times have such an effect on him? He'd locked eyes with Y/N, then looked away, but he couldn't stop thinking about her. The way her eyes sparkled when she saw him, the sound of her giggling at his pathetic attempts of flirting with her and the way she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. Drew Starkey could not get Y/N Y/L/N out of his head, no matter how much he tried. Not that he was trying too hard.

After a few more minutes, Y/N had made her way over to the bar. She had brought Paloma along with her but she was long gone, Y/N assumed she was around somewhere trying to see who the most famous person she could talk to that night was. But Y/N didn't mind, not when she knew Drew was around somewhere.

The glass of her drink had barely reached her lips when a familiar voice spoke from behind her. "Well, well, well, fancy seeing you here." The voice spoke with a hint of amusement, causing her to smile. She placed her glass back on the bar and turned around.

There he was. Blue eyes staring into her own. "Hey, Starkey." Y/N teased, leaning back on the bar behind her. Her eyes quickly detoured down him, trying to covertly check him out but Drew saw, as clear as day.

"Oh, is that how it is? Not even first name basis." His eyebrows raised at Y/N’s words, teasing her. "I'm hurt, Y/L/N." Drew held his hand up to his chest. His chest that was covered in a black button up. Y/N noticed how he'd ditched the jacket, there was no tie, and the first three buttons had been disregarded. Showing off the top of his chest. Was he trying to kill her?

Unbeknown to her, she wasn't the only one focused on what the other one was wearing. Drew felt as though he couldn't breathe. Y/N looked unbelievable and he couldn't stop his eyes from dropping down. Who wore leather to an industry event anyway? But he wasn't going to complain.

Y/N frowned in a teasing way. "Drew isn't even your first name anyway." She pointed out before raising her own eyebrows.

"How do you know that?" Drew laughed, had she been Googling him?

"Maddie told me." Y/N shrugged her shoulders. It wasn't a big deal that her and Maddie were talking about him, right?

"You've been talking about me with Maddie?" Drew's face had unknowingly lit up.

Y/N felt her face heat up again but she tried to brush it off. "Maybe." She reached for her drink to distract Drew from her flushed face. "So, Joseph, are you following me or what?" Y/N then changed the subject, they didn't need to discuss that she was talking about him with Madelyn.

"You wish." Drew laughed, crossing his arms over his chest, trying to act cool. But all Y/N could focus on was how his shirt tightened around his biceps when he did that.

Her eyes went back up to his face, and Drew expected her to laugh but she didn't. "Maybe I do." She wasn't going to lie.

"Oh yeah?" Drew smirked and Y/N's body reacted in a way she had never felt before.

"Yeah." She mirrored his smirk.

And that was it for the rest of the night. The two were glued to each other. Y/N and Drew had migrated over to the very end of the bar together, sitting opposite each other on two bar stools. Y/N hadn't even noticed but every time one of them had stood up, their stools seemed to get closer and closer together. Till their knees were slotted in between one another's. Y/N's left leg was slotted firmly between Drew's, meaning she could not move away. Luckily, she hadn't wanted to.

That had also meant Y/N was in perfect reaching distance of Drew. So he could place his hand directly onto her knee, casually without being too obvious.

The first time he did it, she had noticed. Although she had been wearing leather trousers, his hand felt as though it was burning a hole through them. The next few times he did it, she hadn't noticed as much. Then in the end, he hadn't even moved it away. Drew's hand stayed there till they had left that night.

There was laughing, and giggling from Y/N, flirting and teasing. If anyone was in earshot of the two, it would've been plastered all over the news the next morning. But nobody was really paying attention to either of them. Which was nice. Y/N didn't have to worry about what anybody would say.

The only person who really took notice was Paloma, who had circled back around to find Y/N. But when Paloma saw who Y/N was with, she decided to stay away. She hadn't seen her that happy in a while.

After an hour, or maybe two, of talking, Y/N was maybe tipsy enough to be braver than she usually would. Their last conversation had ended. Drew's hand was still resting on Y/N’s knee but now her hand was with his, fingers running over his own and over his rings. She hesitated before she spoke but meant every word. "Would it be totally inappropriate to ask you if you wanna get out of here?" Y/N said, eyes flickering up to meet his. She smirked, running her fingers around his own and holding them. The tension between the two was becoming too much for them both.

"Absolutely not, let's go." And Y/N had never seen Drew move so fast. Although he didn't let go of her hand, he used the other one to down his drink and he stood up, taking Y/N with him.

She had started to giggle at his eagerness but found it oddly attractive. "Okay, slow down." She said in between laughter leaving her mouth. She brought his hand closer to herself, gaining his attention.

"You want me to slow down?" Drew raised an eyebrow at her as he placed the glass back down on the bar.

Y/N paused, staring up into his eyes. Did she want him to slow down? "No, not really." She said softly, before letting Drew practically drag her out of the building.

A taxi took them back to Y/N's apartment. Only because it was closer. Y/N had also texted Paloma while in the taxi, telling her she'd left with Drew and that she'd pay for a taxi for her back to her apartment. She felt awful for ditching her friend but she knew she wouldn't mind, Paloma wasn't that kind of person.

The taxi ride was filled with Y/N's giggles as Drew whispered things into her ear. They couldn't keep their hands off each other as Y/N found herself unbuttoning more buttons on Drew's shirt. Her nails tracing patterns into his skin. Her touch was electric and Drew knew he wouldn't be able to stay away from her now.

When they got dropped off at her apartment building, Y/N led Drew inside. He followed behind her as she made her way over to the elevators. Y/N pressed the button and felt Drew press himself into her from behind, wrapping his arms around her waist softly. Drew's lips then found her neck, and her collarbone, and her shoulders. He only stopped when the doors opened in front of them.

The two adults stumbled inside, more laughter leaving Y/N's mouth. She pressed her back against the wall of the elevator, after pressing the right floor number. Drew stood in front of her, towering over her small frame. Y/N slowly wrapped her arms around Drew's shoulders, bringing herself closer to his face. They didn't move any closer, although there wasn't much room between them anyway. As they stared into each other's eyes. Y/N slowly moved her hands up to the back of his neck, stopping before bringing him any closer.

"If you kiss me right now, I am not going to be able to stay away from you." She admitted, eyes glancing down at his lips.

Drew wanted to laugh, was that supposed to make him want him to stop? "Maybe that's exactly what I want." Drew told her before he closed the distance between them himself.

Y/N had never had a first kiss so electrifying. She'd never had one that made her body feel on fire and so calm at the same time. It just felt right.

But unfortunately, it was short lived as the sound of the elevator doors opening forced the two apart. Y/N grabbed hold of Drew's hand, dragging him along behind her to her apartment. She dug her keys from her bag, fumbling with them as she tried to unlock the door. When she finally did, Drew followed her inside and into her kitchen, where Y/N threw her phone and bag onto the side.

"Do you want a —" She attempted to ask Drew if he wanted a drink, trying to occupy herself as she wasn't really sure what was about to happen next and didn't want to just assume why Drew had accompanied her back to her apartment. Although the reason she assumed, she really hoped was the reason.

Luckily for Y/N, she didn't need to assume as Drew spun her around and pressed her against the kitchen counter. Drew's lips found Y/N's again, but this time it was more forceful, more passionate. It meant more than a hesitant, slow kiss in an elevator. This one was leading somewhere.

The kiss became faster, like they were afraid the other would disappear. Drew's hands found a place on Y/N's waist, gripping the leather covering her skin. Y/N's had found place on Drew's jaw, giving her a sense of control. They continued, till Y/N needed to catch her breath. She pulled away, keeping her hands on Drew's face but Drew had other plans. His mouth attached itself to Y/N's jawline, making it's way down to her neck and even further.

The sounds of Y/N's breathing filled the room as she attempted to fill her lungs again but Drew was making it awfully difficult. Her empty fingers found space in his hair, nails scratching his scalp. Drew had lightly nipped the skin above her collarbone, eliciting a soft moan from Y/N's lips. "You have no idea how much I have thought about this since meeting you." Drew's words were muffled, not wanting to remove himself from Y/N.

Y/N found herself smiling, even though Drew couldn't see. "I think I have a slight idea."

Finally, Drew had removed his face from her neck. His face was red and his lips were swollen but Y/N had never been more attracted to him. "God, you're so beautiful." His 6 foot 2 frame towered over her 5 foot one. "I can die a happy man now."

A laugh escaped Y/N's lips as she shook her head at the man. "You're ridiculous."

"Is that why you're blushing?" He smirked, leaning his head back down but stopped before their lips touched.

"Just stop talking and kiss me."

"Yes, ma'am."

BED CHEM TAGLIST !

tags: @esquivelbianca @ts1mp0ne @fruitcakerafe @anothertimegirl @soincredible @ursogorgeous13 @drewsephrry @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @hypnotizedstarkey @harrys-housewife @st8rkey @lyannesworld @bxbychxrry @midnight-and-books @dontknow3m @amel1ee @preyperch-blog @dreamybabbyy @lolasangelz @nai12 @drewstarkeysbabe @blog-luvdance @darlingstarkey @chillgal135 @blushmimi @fveapplestall @rlalliehayes @moonssyrup @pamwired @kissesandmartinis @sereneera @imtalkinnonsense @starkeybae

[wtfaniii]

Hi ;-)

Request for an In-Ho x preteen platonic female reader where reader is the adopted shy introverted Daughter of Jun-Ho (frontmens Brother) got adopted 1 year after In-Ho dissapierd and got into the games by accident (cheating her id and faking it) how would ir be if the first time she speaks towards the Group of Gi-Hun and noticed that maybe player 001 used his right hand to throw the toy spin at the second game and for eating with a fork he used his left hand? So she could say neither he is both handed or left handed and mention something like my appa jun-ho can write with left and right but using a weapon he is just right handed funny huh? 💕🙈

I like the idea, I hope what I wrote is to your liking :D

Curiosities, observations and other small qualities

You were a smart but calm girl, with many fascinations towards different things and you constantly asked questions without stopping when you noticed something, that's why your father told you that you would be a researcher and there was no better compliment for you than that, however, for a certain person that would be more of an inconvenience.

¡Hwang In-ho x fem reader platonic!

master list¡!

You were curious, you always had been, since you could remember you questioned everything, even why a fly moved its legs when it stood on food.

Questioning everything and everyone brought you a lot of knowledge, you were smart and active but it also brought you problems, sometimes you found out things that you would rather not have done or people got fed up with you, that's why you spent the first five years of your life in an orphanage feeling the rejection of others.

Until one day there was an accident at the orphanage, the police came to investigate a little and despite feeling somewhat threatened by your superiors when talking about the negligence in the place, you did not stay silent, you glided through the hallways until you could talk to a police officer about your concerns.

You never imagined that the same police officer you spoke to would adopt you a month later, of course he was not going to leave you alone there after having practically ratted out the director of the orphanage.

The feeling of confidence that Jun-ho gave you from the beginning only increased from that moment, soon he was a fun, affectionate and responsible father to you.

Grandma Hwang was the sweetest, she made you chocolate chip cookies every time Jun-ho left you in her care and sometimes she let you sleep in.

Life certainly improved for you but you never stopped asking constant questions, Jun-ho congratulated you for that, he said that you would be a great detective when you grew up but your grandmother didn't seem so happy about that, she said that you would get in trouble.

And she was right.

One afternoon while you were waiting for the next train to take you home after having spent the afternoon doing homework at a friend's house, you noticed something peculiar.

You were leaning against the wall eating a bar of chocolate, with your headphones on and the hood of your sweatshirt over your head when in front of you, at the other end of the tracks, you saw a man in a suit with a briefcase playing Ddakji with another man.

Your eyes practically shone with interest when you saw that if you win the man with the briefcase he would give money, but a grimace formed on your lips when you saw that if lost would receive a hard slap.

The salesman ended up handing a card to that man and turned around to leave but at that moment you ran to catch up with him right on the stairs.

You went towards him but when you faced him his posture seemed really intimidating, you took two steps back with your best friendly smile.

At first he didn't let you play, you weren't on his list and you were just a teenager, you would probably die as soon as you stepped on the first arena but your insistence was too much to the point that he got fed up with you and let play.

You didn't know what you were getting into when you took the money had earned and the card that he offered you, but your curiosity was so much that that night you couldn't even sleep because of the intrigue of knowing what would happen if you dialed that number, he said he would do you a favor, he warned you not to call before he left, but that warning only increased your curiosity.

So the next morning the first thing you did was call, they asked for your full name and age, you lied, you said were twenty-five years old but you were barely turning sixteen.

—I'll be late today appa, I'm going to a friend's house —You told your father that same day while you were getting out of the car to go to school.

—Okay, but call me to come get you, I don't want you to go alone at night —Jun-ho responded with a fatherly tone and a small smile.

You nodded and said goodbye to him to enter the school but "going to a friend's house" was an excuse, you would go to the address those people gave you so you could enter those games.

[...]

You regretted it completely, there were times when your actions led you to good things, maybe bad things… ¿But this? it was already an extreme.

If you had known that approaching that man in a suit would be your biggest butterfly effect, you would have walked away immediately but now here you were, wearing the same set of clothes as the rest while you looked curiously at player 001, the man who condemned them all when he pressed the button with the blue circle.

You stayed away from the rest as all the players dispersed, some with sorrowful expressions and others with triumph, the votes had been made and staying had been the final decision by majority.

But your gaze focused on player 001, his vote was decisive and you were curious to know why he pressed the circle but then you saw him form an almost imperceptible malicious smile while he stared at 456,

Player 456 had shouted that he had already been in those games during the voting and helped the others during "green light, red light", he knew what would happen and judging by his expression of anguish and defeat you deduced that it was true, he was telling the truth, now, ¿why was 001 interested in him? ¿Was he looking for your help or was it something else? The man felt your gaze and turned to see you, you immediately turned away and walked tensely.

You stayed away and alone, just watching the others form groups until you saw some of them surround 456, once again your curiosity got the better of you and you went towards them cautiously like a small cat walking among dogs.

In-ho had a clear goal but since he saw you, observing him in detail, he knew that you would be a problem, for that and other reasons. ¿What the hell was a teenager doing in his games?

After the other curious players left, he sat next to Gi-hun and tried to continue talking but he noticed your presence a few steps in front of them.

—¿Can we help you with something young lady? —390 asked, looking at you with curiosity.

Due to your poor ability to socialize you wanted to deny and walk away but you also had to keep in mind that this place was survive or die, you needed to be with the smartest team and what better than the team of a former winner so gathering all the courage you had in your body you spoke.

—¿Can I be on your team? —They looked at each other doubtfully until 001 spoke.

—¿How old are you girl?

—Twenty-five —Your answer was so sure that it made them hesitate but just by looking at you in silence it made tell your real age —I'll be sixteen next month.

—¿What kind of debts would a sixteen year old girl have? —asked 388 from his bed and with his mouth full of food.

You pressed your lips into a straight line and glared at him —¿Are going to accept me on your team or not?

Before anyone could say anything Gi-hun nodded silently and you sat down next to him. Well, at least you wouldn't be alone anymore during your stay in this place.

When the lights went out and everyone went to sleep you curled up in your bed and tried to close your eyes but it was impossible, even with 456 and 001 awake on guard you couldn't sleep peacefully.

In-ho noticed the uncomfortable way you moved in bed so he spoke to you cautiously and invited you to stand guard with them at least until you get sleepy.

—¿Aren't you afraid of this place? Your parents are probably very worried about you, ¿What would your mother say if she knew that you were not eating and sleeping well? —He said cautiously as he waved goodbye to Gi-hun, now it would only be the two of you on guard.

—I don't have a mother... —You mumbled, drawing with your fingers on the ground and when you saw the expression on him face you smiled sideways —I never met her, I only live with my appa and the halmonim.

—Well…then they'll wondering where you are —He said looking at you with curiosity, in case you were to die here, he wanted to know who would miss you

You twisted the lips and nodded silently, you missed them and wanted to return to them as soon as possible but the idea that you could die tomorrow or in the next five days tormented you.

As if he had read your thoughts, he placed a comforting hand on your shoulder and speak: —You'll be fine, we'll get out of here alive and you'll see them again.

Those words, although seemed simple and empty, were a flash of hope for you, you smiled at him with closed lips and nodded in agreement, anyway, this were just children's games ¿right?

With that thought in mind you went to sleep but when you woke up the next morning with that melody ringing in your ears you couldn't help but feel anxious, your stomach was in knots and the desire to vomit due to stress and fear was evident on your face.

—¿Are you fine? ¿Do you want to go to the bathroom? —001 asked you as followed Gi-hun walking down the colorful stairs to the next game.

You assured him that you were fine and continued walking in silence, "This is going to be a piece of cake, it's just games" you thought as you looked curiously at the playground where they were taken, it was colorful.

But when the robotic voice said that they should make teams of five you reconsidered your chances of survival.

You walked among all the players looking for who would want you on their team but being a female teenager diminished your advantages considerably, you saw player 333 approach you, he was going to ask you to be part of his team but before he could do so two hands placed themselves firmly on your shoulders and dragged you to team 456.

—Now we are complete —001 said with triumph and a smile on his face shaking you gently making you smile gratefully.

After giving them the instructions, each team organized themselves, sat on the floor and waited their turn.

Each team would have to go through a series of games while having their ankles tied to each other and in a time of five minutes, they had to be coordinated and sure, you said you were good at Ddakji so that would be your game.

You felt motivated, you analyzed every move the previous players made and noticed every small mistake that led to their death, your team would not make those mistakes.

In-ho saw you from time to time, you were observant, a detail that he would not overlook, that gave you value points because he was almost sure that you would be one of the finalists if another stronger player did not kill you before that.

However, he never thought that you could also become a problem.

—¿How do you know my name? —Gi-hun asked after he had mistakenly called him by his name.

—I heard that's what your friend called you and I thought could do it too, ¿does it bother you?

His justification got him out of trouble but he could feel your intriguing gaze boring into the back of his neck, your mind wandered in previous conversations, you hadn't really heard him but maybe it was because you were nervous, even so, your curiosity and intrigue were present.

You proposed saying their names, maybe that would help build confidence in the team and they could get out of this test alive.

Each team had their turn to play, some passed successfully and others ended up dead, when it was their turn to play you noticed that they were the last, you didn't pay much attention to this detail but your brain saved it just in case.

You were the first to play, you did it the first time and the rest celebrated, then it was Jung-bae's turn, another triumph, Dae-ho also had immediate success.

Now it was Young-il's turn, it would be his turn to spin the top and everyone would believe that like the first three he would do it the first time but their hearts stopped and the air left their lungs when the top didn't spin on the ground.

You remained silent during the three attempts he made and failed, time was ticking and your heart was beating like crazy but you clearly noticed how in the last attempt that was successful he used his left hand.

Curious, first he did it with his right hand and failed three times, now he did it with his left hand and he did it the first time.

[...]

Once again in the huge dormitory, all the players who managed to survive the second game were scattered talking among small groups, alliances they had formed with this test.

You were happy, you put aside your suspicions about Young-il convincing yourself that you were just paranoid and there was nothing strange.

—I apologize for the reaction I had a few minutes ago —He said as they sat on the stairs of the huge bunk beds —I lost control...

He finished with a smile that almost seemed like genuine apology and understanding but when you spoke the expression on his face tensed.

—That's fine, but if you knew you were left-handed you should have tried left from the beginning —You said calmly, as if you were talking about a simple observation, but the rest's gaze rested on him with intrigue and even slight suspicion, especially Gi-hun, because this observation added to the fact that he had called him by his confident name, caused a certain distrust —Maybe this way we would have saved ourselves time and that scare.

The soft laugh you made at the end managed to lighten the atmosphere a little but In-ho knew that your words had caused a crack in his plan.

—I usually use the right but I think I'm good at playing with the left —He lied, letting out a small laugh to disguise the tension in his body.

Fortunately for him, Dae-ho changed the conversation bragging a little about how they were about to pass all the minigames without any errors, but In-ho remained attentive to you ¿How could a simple teenager be so observant? Now he was going to make sure you died in the next game, he wasn't going to risk slipping up with you around.

He had a problem with you and he was going to eliminate it, the complete opposite of what you thought, you believed that Young-il was someone you could trust and for no reason you had hopes that with him by your side you could get out of there alive.

After the votes, the pink guards distributed the food to each player but you had trouble opening your milk box.

—¿Can you help me? —You asked Young-il next to you.

He took the box and opened it without any problem but you noticed again that he used his left hand causing a giggle on your part.

—¿What are you laughing at?

—You are left-handed.

In-ho looked at the rest to make sure no one had heard you and then turned to look at you, this time with sharper and colder eyes.

He was definitely going to make sure you died in tomorrow's game

But the next thing you said made his mind go blank.

—My appa Jun-ho can write with his left and right but when he uses his weapon he is right-handed —You said with a small smile on your lips.

—¿Is your dad a police officer? —He asked, his voice lower than he would have liked, you nodded taking a bite of the piece of bread you held in your hands —Repeat your last name to me.

His voice sounded demanding and tense so you looked at him intrigued but when you saw that he was serious you responded.

—Hwang, ¿Do you know my dad? —You asked, curious and with a happy expression on your face.

You were his brother's daughter ¿how could that be possible? He didn't know about any existing girlfriend but now he reconsiders his decision, you were family but if you kept talking about every observation you had and went so far as to give him away he would kill you before you even spoke.

—No —He said with a more serene expression but his eyes still reflected something that you couldn't decipher —I've only heard him name before.

Now In-ho had a severe conflict.

But one thing was for sure, he would try to keep you close, whether to protect you or simply to make sure you didn't notice anything suspicious.

[always-azriels-princess]

Hi I love your imagines of azriel I was wondering could you do a one where azriel is jealous beacuse someone from the night court is getting to friendly and Y/n is indulging that someone beacuse she thinks azriel is out of her league .

A/N: girl thank you so much that literally brightened my whole day!

I have no clue if they do presents on the summer solstice but just roll with it :)

This didn't go exactly the way i planned it but I think it turned out ok. hope you like it!

Also i'm so sorry this took so long, I took like a month-long Tumblr break

Warnings: angst, fluff

Word Count: 1.8K

I'm Right Here

The sun shone brightly down as you walked down the cobblestone street, shopping bags filled with summer solstice presents. Gentle rays shone across your face and brightened up your eyes. A smile graced your face as you looked up at the sky, a flap of wings momentarily casting shadows across your body. The owner landed beside you and immediately took your bags into his own arms. His shadows immediately tangled in your hair and wove up and down your body.

"Well hello to you too" you giggled, twirling your fingers as the shadows danced between them.

The corner of Azriel's lips turned upwards as he remarked, "I think they like you better than me at this point."

You teased, "Well of course they would, what's not there to love?" It was a rhetorical question, so you started walking, expecting he would follow behind. What you didn't hear is how Azriel mumbled, "My point exactly," before falling into step beside you.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

That evening was the solstice bonfire, a party that was attended by more than half of Velaris. The red and orange flames drifted higher and higher, embers that looked like flying stars circling all around.

You stood on the side, quietly observing the festivities. Dancing wasn't really your thing, seeing as you had two left feet in the opposite shoes. A drink in your hand, your gaze drifted across the couples dancing and nodding their heads to the upbeat song currently playing, until it caught on a male standing in the shadows.

You could feel your lips turn up as soon as you found him, and you started making your way over. He was glaring at the party-goers, oblivious to you, as his shadows loped over his shoulders and up and down his body.

You snuck around the tables that had been set up, filled to the edge with every type of food you could imagine. As you reached him, you stretched your hands out in an attempt to cover his eyes. Before you could touch him, you felt the cool kiss of two shadows grabbing onto your wrists, dragging your arms down and pulling you around until you faced their master, a sheepish look stretching across your face.

"Whoops," you laughed nervously. "Wrong person, sorry."

You tried to back away slowly, but scarred hands gripped your hips, bringing you back.

Azriel's hazel eyes stared down at you, the reflection of the bonfire glinting in them as he quirked his lips. "Wrong person? Who, pray tell, were you meaning to sneak up on? I know you surely made made a mistake because you should know that would never work on me." He bent down until his lips brushed against the outer shell of your ear. "I've trained you much better than that."

You hoped the fire would be a sufficient reason for the flush spreading across your cheeks.

Az leaned back, a smirk adorning his lips. You internally frowned, thinking it wasn't fair for him to look like a freaking Adonis. His hair fell perfectly across his brows, and you wanted nothing more than to tangle your fingers and run your hands through it. How could you ever compare to him?

A pang of self doubt laced through your heart, and your minuscule frown became apparent on your face. You quickly schooled your features, but your emotions were not lost on Azriel.

He tugged you gently. "Hey hey, what's wrong?" His eyes searched yours, automatically trying to fix the problem he didn't even know was there. His shadows wrapped themselves comfortingly around you, tangling in your hair.

You smiled slightly, "Nothing Az. I'm all good."

He looked unsure, but then nodded, eyes still noting your every move. You smiled again, one a little more genuine, and then tugged your hand from his. You immediately felt the loss of warmth and missed his touch.

"I'm going to get a drink, ok? I'll be right back," you told him.

Azriel smiled gently. "Don't be too long, I need a dancing buddy."

You smiled in amusement. "Riiiiight, we'll see about that. You might need a medic buddy instead, after that disaster."

You turned around, heading towards the drinks table, completely missing Azriel smiling wistfully at your back.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As you poured some fruity drink into one of the fresh cups on the table, you saw a shadow approach you in the corner of you eye and you turn, grinning. Your smile immediately falls when you see the fae male standing in front of you, the complete opposite of who you wanted it to be. Blonde hair, blue eyes, arms and shoulders devoid of any floating wisps.

He smiled nervously, and your heart sank. "Oh no," you thought. "This was going to end badly."

"Uh, hey?" The male cleared his throat. "Ahem, I meant, hey." His voice was suddenly two octaves lower and you couldn't help but giggle at him. His face lit up, as if delighted to have gotten a reaction from you. He continued, "Yea so, I saw you from all the way over there," he points to the other side of the clearing, "and I thought you were really cute, so my stupid friends dared me to come over here and talk to you, and it's totally fine though if you don't, but I just ask that you pretend to be sad and then walk away or something so I don't get teased for the next month." He cut himself off and then grimaced. "Sorry I start ranting when I get nervous."

You assured him, "No, seriously, don't even worry about it. The exact same thing happens to me literally all the time."

He looked relieved, and stuck his hand out. "My name's Aric."

You smiled and shook his hand. "Nice to meet you," you said, smiling slightly.

Your mind automatically thought of Azriel, waiting patiently for you back at the edge of the dancing. You glanced back, seeing if you could spot him from all the way over there, and your heart dropped. There he was, talking to a pretty Illyrian female who was smiling up at him like he had hung the stars in the sky. You swallowed with a lump in your throat, and turned back to Aric.

You didn't even realize he had been talking the whole time. You interrupted, saying, "I'm so sorry, what was that?"

Aric laughed nervously, "Oh, I was just asking if you wanted to dance?" The end of his sentence curved up at the end, like he was asking a question.

"Oh, umm..." you hesitated, but then thought of Azriel clearly enjoying his time with that female, and replied, "you know what, I would love to."

Aric's face relaxed, and a deep breath escaped him as his face showed a look of pure relief. "O-ok, great!"

The male took your hands and led you to the center of the dance floor, before wrapping his arms around your waist. But before he could even touch you, a muscled arm grabbed his arm and twisted sharply. Aric cried out in pain, and Azriel bent down to his level.

"If you ever go near her again, I will rip this arm off, rip out your nails, stab them in your eye, cut off your feet, and shove them down your throat." He says it quietly, but it was unmistakable the overwhelming amount of anger and rage he was barely able to control. He was practically vibrating.

You snap out of your shock, and grab his arm, trying to get him to let go of the male. His grip finally loosened, and Aric ran off with his tail between his legs. Azriel turned slowly, as if fearing the scene behind him, as he rightfully should. He stepped forward, closing the distance between you. It was silent, and then you crossed your arms and said, "I'm going to give you 10 seconds to explain".

"I know you're angry," he started, his hands coming up to pull you even closer. "But he was touching you where he shouldn't have been. What was I suppose to do?"

You scoff. "I don't know, maybe LEAVE US ALONE!"

Azriel's hands come up in a placating position, "Sweetheart-"

"Nuh uh, don't you 'sweetheart' me," you respond. "You had no reason to interrupt. You clearly shouldn't have, seeing as your female friend ran off as well." You motioned to where the two had been standing.

Confusion flitted across his face. "Who?"

You sighed, exasperated. "The pretty Illyrian you were talking to like five minutes ago!"

The confusion stayed on Azriel's face, before it disappeared and an adoring expression took its place. He teased, "You mean Alycia? The Illyrian I rescued from a wing clipping two years ago who I was just congratulating on her engagement?"

An embarrassed look passed across your face, and Azriel chuckled.

He took a step impossibly closer, his voice soft but firm. "Angel, there is no one else for me but you. You're mine, and no one can touch what's mine."

You rolled your eyes in disbelief. "Azriel, what are you talking about?"

"Exactly what I'm saying, sweetheart. I've been trying so hard to get your attention, but nothing I do works."

You blinked, confusion flooding your expression. A kernel of hope planted itself in your chest. "What are you saying?"

Azriel hesitated, but then decided it was now or never. "I can’t pretend like I don’t care about you, because I do. More than I ever thought possible. I'm saying I love you, angel."

You expression was unreadable. Your lips parted, as if to speak, but nothing came out at first. Your eyes searched his, looking for any sign of hesitation, but there was none. You smirked, "Well that's good Shadowsinger, because I love you too."

You closed the gap, pressing your lips against his, slow at first, and then it was like fireworks exploded. His hands wrapped securely around your waist, and your hands finally tangled in his hair like you had always dreamed about. It was like everything else, the music, the people around you, had faded away and the only thing left was the beautiful male standing in front of you.

You regretfully pulled away, and leaned your forehead against his. "I never in a million years thought this could happen."

Azriel pulled away, "Now I'm confused; what do you mean?"

"Well, you know, you look like you, and I look like...well, me." You explain it as if it's the clearest thing in the world.

Your male responded, "Sweetheart, I don't think you understand just how amazing you are. You are so kind, and smart, and funny, and so amazingly gorgeous I thank the gods every day just to have met you. I am the lucky one here, and I am going to spend every waking minute reminding you of that."

You smiled softly up at him, your eyes misting over.

Azriel straightened up, smiled a full, genuine smile, and said, "Now, I think it's time you owed me that dance."

[madebycloud]

Her Way

jinx/powder x female reader — 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

summary: your lap is a comfy seat, but it's also her favorite form of stress release and, well, a little something more too... words: 2.0k warnings/themes: smut 18+, mdni, established relationship, strapon reffered to as cock, bondage, blindfold, dom bottom!jinx notes: just a heads up- this is my first time ever writing anything nsfw or smutty so it wont be the best quality but i tried my best and i hope you enjoy it :P

Your lap has never, ever been a more important piece of furniture. You'd pay all the money in the world to ensure this chair's longevity. Its only use was for her to get comfortable, but its use is far more important than that.

Your hands are tied behind the chair, head leaned back, and there's nothing to look at but the white fabric wrapped around your eyes.

Your hand flexes as if gripping an invisible shoulder. You're desperate to touch her, and with your current condition, there's not a single thing you can do to her except for what she's allowing you to do.

You feel the heat of her body over yours, her small palms applying a slight pressure on your shoulders as she hovers over the silicone cock.

You wish you could take off the blindfold and look down to where the toy is buried deep inside of her, just to get a glimpse of how soaked she is, wishing you could press your hand on her slit and feel how much she's dripping. Maybe if you could see her… maybe if your hands weren't tied, you'd be able to touch her the way you've always wanted to.

Her head dips to get closer to your face, and your nose is suddenly invaded by her sweet perfume. Underneath that is her skin, her scent that you want to press even closer to get the full feel of it. Her nose brushes against yours, and you involuntarily tilt your head up to capture her mouth. “Sshh…” She's so close, but not close enough.

You feel her hand move to your mouth, her fingers pressing against your lips, pressing you to open it. At first, you don't know what she's placing in. You open your mouth, your tongue reaching out to confirm what it was as she lets out a moan when your tongue circles her nipple.

“That's it, use your tongue,” she whimpers, “You look so pretty like that—you always look pretty with your mouth on something…”

You've never felt more useful in your life. You'd touch her the way you want to. You'd touch her the way she needs to be touched. You reluctantly pull away, your mouth wet from your spit. “Please, Jinx, let me see you.”

She giggles. “...no.”

No. No? how could she say no? you need to know how much of a mess she's made—you need to know just how desperate she is. Her heat is right there, and she's keeping you from seeing how much she's soaked. 

“...please.” You manage to say after a few moments, and it's like she smiles at your words.

She's still rocking her hip against the toy. “Be good, and you might get a good look later.”

She has you in a torturous state of mind, you just want more and more, nothing is ever enough. You need her grinding down on you harder, fast, rough. You want to get out of this goddamn chair and pin her down onto something flat like a bed or the floor.

But she likes you like this. She enjoys the whine you let out. beautiful and desperate. The one she loves hearing come out of your mouth. You sound so needy, the kind of needy she wants to hear because she wants to feel needed. She knows fully that your fake cock is drenched, her slick coating the entire length of it.

This is torture. 

Your head falls back against the chair once more. “Please, Jinx, let me—wanna touch you, please.”

“No,” she says as she slows the pace, “stay still.” 

This is going to kill you.

She's going to kill you.

Her hand on your face slides up to trace your jawline. Your breathing stutters as her tongue licks at your bottom lip, and then again when it dips into your mouth, and you let her take what she wants, she licks and sucks and bites at your mouth until they feel swollen.

You hear her laugh when they pop when she pulls away because you were biting a little hard, and then you can feel her teeth as they brush against the underside of your jaw before she starts moving down your neck, the path of nips and kisses burning as she goes. Then she's sucking at your pulse point.

“You can touch me,” and the second those four words leave her mouth, you're pulling at the ropes, tugging and yanking, but they won't budge.

“I changed my mind.” She lets out a shaky laugh against your neck, which makes your hips twitch, and then she's pulling off your skin slowly, licking at the red mark she left.

“Wha—Jinx.” You pull once more on the restraint. You don't appreciate the teasing.

She knows it's getting to you. She knows you're getting desperate. You'd give anything to be able to grab her, to pull her down on you or pin her against the chair and show her how needy she's making you.

Her hand moves to loosen your blindfold, pulling it off, then tossing it to the side. “Look at me,” and so you do as she says. Her eyes dilated, her cheeks tinted pink already. She looks so perfect. “Don't take your eyes off of me.”

You nod, watching as her pretty eyes take in your expression—all desperate and wanting—you watch as they glaze over, her tongue peeking out to wet her lips.

She leans back, her hands moving to your knees as she holds herself up just enough so you can see how the cock fills her up.

You watch as her back arches and she drops her hips as hard as she can. Your mouth goes dry, no one should look this pretty. Your girl looks so perfect, and you only want to make her feel even more perfect, feel even better.

“You're so beautiful,” you whimper out, “so pretty.”

Her hands move from your knee to wrap around the chair behind your head, gripping the edge. She lifts her hips, the tip barely slipping out, and when she finally drops them down, it makes you groan, her eyes stay on you as she does it again, and you can see her biting on her lip, her grip on the chair getting tighter.

“Yeah?” she asks, her head tilting. “Am I pretty, huh?” Her hand moves up, her thumb touches your lips. She presses on your bottom lip until you open your mouth, she presses deeper, pressing down on your tongue.

You try to nod, nodding against her thumb. Her hand slips away, you watch as she sucks on her finger. “You're a little messier right now.” You can feel how her thighs twitch this time when you call her that.

She huffs, sitting back up, your eyes immediately fall to her chest. She catches you looking. Then her hand goes back up to your chin, gripping it to pull your face back up to hers. “Don't get cocky.”

“Not cocky,” you whine, your tongue peeking out to lick your lower lip, and you can see her eye follow the movement. It makes you do it again.

You can feel the heat rolling off of both of you. You're so hot, and you're positive there's a patch of sweat starting to form on the fabric that covers the chair.

Her other hand moves back to your chest, and she leans her weight against it—pressing down to keep you in place as she starts to move. She lifts her hips only to press them back down, then back up again. She rolls her hips, letting the tip of it brush against her clit.

If you didn't feel like you already had trouble breathing, looking at her definitely feels like it's suffocating you.

Your hip gives another twitch, thrusting up to meet her. You can feel the wetness she's leaving on your lap, and you want to lick her clean.

Her back arches as her head tilts back. She starts to shiver as the sweat starts sticking to whatever skin it can reach, and her hair is sticking to her neck and face.

You look down to see her stomach muscles clench every time she drops down onto the fake cock. 

“I said, look at me.”

Your head goes back up before she can do anything.

“I want you to watch and see how pretty you make me.” Her words are broken up with sharp gasps, and she uses her grip on your chin and chest to keep you right where she wants you.

You bite down on your own lip, watching her eyes go from half-lidded. Your arms start to flex, pulling on the ropes as if trying to pull free so you can reach for the sweat rolling down her breast.

When your chin is released, her hand lands on your shoulder. “You look really good like this.” she murmurs. “Like a present just waiting to be unwrapped.” 

She leans in closer, her soft breasts pressing against yours, arms wrapping around your shoulders. You tilt your head, licking a stripe up the side of her neck when you're able to.

She let out a moan when the tip hit a certain spot inside her because it's just right, and she moans as she hits it again and again. Her moan is low and right in your ear, and you want to hear more of them, so you keep going, your tongue licking up her neck, and when you get to her jaw, you bite down, not enough to hurt, just to make her shiver.

She leans her head back, exposing more of her neck to you, and you take the chance to mark it up. It doesn't matter if it leaves a stain on her skin, she'll just love wearing it anyway.

Her hand moves to grip the back of your head, her nails scratching against your scalp. You bite down harder and suck on her pulse point, and when you finally pull back, you get to see your mark staining her neck.

She takes advantage of your absence by taking your chin and pulling your face back to hers. As soon as you're looking at her, her mouth is on yours, tongue slipping between your lips. You moan into her mouth, tasting her as she kisses you. Her tongue pushes in, and her other hand moves to the other side of your neck. 

Then she pulls away from your mouth, you're about to chase it back because you don't want the kiss to break, but her hand moves up to grip your chin and pull it back. A thick string of spit connects the two before it breaks, her gaze locks on the strand of saliva that drops onto your chin. You're panting as her eye slowly moves to look back up at you.

Jinx's hair is messy and matted. Her tongue licks her lips, making them shine in a way that you want to capture it with your mouth. She's breathing heavier, her chest rising and falling with each puff of air, and you can hear the whimpers coming out of her like they're amplified. She's so pretty looking like this—a mess that you made.

She doesn't look like this for just anyone. There's only one person who ever gets to see her like this, one person she trusts to have this view, and it's you.

“Almost forgot how you make me feel,” she whispers, and her eyes flicker down to the silicone as her pretty cunt slides out and back in it again.

Almost is a key word she uses because her hips are starting to pick up a quicker pace. Her eyes are glued on your face again, watching as you start to struggle to keep them open. You don't look away, though. It's getting harder to keep them open because she knows what her pace is doing to you—she knows you want to shut your eyes, but you don't because ‘almost forgot’ means remember.

Her breath stutters as she drops her hips down to meet the base. The chair makes this creaking noise, and she laughs a little. “Careful. You might break that chair.”

The chair won't be the only thing breaking if she doesn't allow you to touch her.

“I'd love to,” you hiss, “if my hands weren't tied.”

Jinx's mouth twitches into a smirk, and her hand moves to push her hair back. “That's my fault.”

[shikaizer]

DIRTY PLEASURE. 001

ᯓ Paige Bueckers x Reader x Caitlin Clark

summary : Reader is a transferee, it didn't take long for people to like her and get along with her for her charm, that even the two fuck boys in her university had taken a liking to her, curiosity took the best and made way for its foul decisions.

warning : 18+ cursing( too much, might be sensitive for readers), agressive!, toxic caitlin, toxic paige, veryyyy toxic, TOXIC TOXIC, suggestive words , stupido reader😣.

"oh trust me, shes a whore. she must have fucked half of the girls in this class." aliyah whispered to you and scoffed

"there's no way.. i dont think shes the type to do that.." you sighed eyebrows raising

"bro, can you tell miss curious over here how fucked caitlin is?" aliyah nudged the girl beside her and she looked over at the two of you

"caitlin? about what?" she asked frowning, removing her earphones

"why so curious about her all the sudden?" she asked again the two of your eyes met

"well both of them are currently talking, but i kept telling her that shes was gonna fuck with her." aliyah rolled her eyes leaning her back to her seat

"ugh yeah, i mean my sister have told me about her, shes kinda fucked" she chuckled you cant help but feel stressed, you kinda liked caitlin, you really do, but you dont really know if it was just a small crush or if you just idolize her.

"yoo.i remember when she fucking slapped caitlin dude that was awesome!" aliyah exclaimed, you cant help but look down overthinking

this past few weeks, you and caitlin have been sharing some few messages, it was either her texting you first to see if you have finished a certain class, something about the latest lesson your prof have discussed, or when a work was given. and it suddenly came to the point where she would invite you to her to party whenever her game has finished, and sometimes would check on you, if you have eaten, and if your still up, this would cause the both of you to talk about some certain things that interests you.

until....

when your conversation have suddenly shifted to flowers to comfort, caitlin had other comfort in her mind. focusing on the thoughts of having a friendly conversation had made you think it was okay to talk about some vulgar thing.

caitlin : well i eat pussies whenever im stressed, lol.

reader : what?

caitlin : nothing

reader : does that feel good?

caitlin : eating pussy orrrr???

reader : yeah that

caitlin : want to know?

your cheeks heated up and you hesistated to type then a three dot started bouncing that made your stomach feel like its knotting

caitlin : do you??

reader : stop fucking around dude, im not believing your ass

your reply was not something you meant, you gave an small hint that you wanted her to prove that she was fucking serious

caitlin : you dont want to?

caitlin : im down whenever

reader : fuck off caitlin

you just rolled your eyes, realizing she must be joking around, but you mentally slapped your self for even thinking, MAYBE, maybe, she was actually serious, because actually, you really find her so damn atttactive, her body, her face, the way she plays basketball you can't even imagine the way she would handle you to bed. the way she flexes her muscles, and the way she would stare at you. it was all too hypnotizing to bare

"how about paige?" you asked looking up at the both of them to be met with a frowning face

"shes literally the same." aliyah chuckled and nudged the girl beside her laughing

"hey hey look at this, my friend send me this one like months ago." the girl beside aliyah reached out for her phone, scrolling down then setting the phone infront of you, it was a convo.

paige : aw come on. please?

bella : ugh, i already send you one

paige : please i really need a goodluck charm

bella : and im still mad at you.

paige : is this about sheila? i already told you i was just playing with her

bella : okay? biting her neck was playing?

paige : you dont bite your friends?

bella : no! especially not in the fucking neck!

paige : whatever, look just send it to me pretty girl, please?

bella : ugh fine.

bella : [attachment sent]

paige : fuckkk

paige : yummy as always

bella : yeah whatevs

bella : um

bella : hello?

bella : great leaving me on seen again.

your eyes furrowed thru the messages your heart beating fast, you are confused as hell. so confused and hopeless

"what the hell..." you muttured to your self and looked at her in disbelief

"so shes that type of person..." you muttured, and thought about caitlin, but she was just playing around with you right? so it was a whatever

"oh honey shes worse" she swiped and revealed another conversation and you leaned down again "this was like a few days after"

thursday 12:26

bella : great, leaving me on seen again.

today

paige : hey

paige : are you ignoring me?

paige : saw you in that skirt, looks tasty

bella : the hell do you want?

paige : woah okay what a way to say hello

bella : fuck you

paige : the hell did i do?

bella : fuck you! i literally saw you making out with someone, you even had the balls to look me in the eyes while doing that

paige : you saw that?

bella : i hate you, never talk to me again you dumb shit

paige : but we aint in a relationship tho?

bella : yeah okay, what did i expect from a person like you! all pussies and cunts huh? all that ya'll care for!

paige : damn okay

you have blocked this person

you leaned up fixing your posture and she pulled her phone back

"woah" you raised your eyebrows in disbelief, you really cant believe it

paige was somehow, the type who would text you alot more opposite than the one you just saw infront of your eyes, its so bad to the point you wanted to believe its fake.

paige : hey, saw you at the court today you looked lost, sorry i didn't get to help you geno was literally screaming at my face, did you find your way

reader : hey! its all good, thanks for the thought

paige : no worries, i really wanted to approach you earlier.

reader: noo its fine really

paige : im glad, just tell me if you need anything, will help.

but you know, you really cant judge because your just few weeks here.

. . .

SERIES MASTERLIST .

[00valentina-writes00]

Doggy style with vi :3? Vi's the one behind us

♡♥︎ BREAK ME, BABY ♥︎♡

Warnings: strap-on sex (Vi using her pink strap), doggy style, rough sex, fast-paced (jackhammering), hair pulling, spanking, dirty talk, slight dumbification, Vi being relentless, reader being wrecked.

Vi wasn’t holding back.

She never did, but tonight?

Tonight, she was on a mission.

The bed creaked violently beneath you, the sharp slap of her hips against your ass echoing through the room, accompanied by the obscene, wet squelching of her strap slamming into you over and over again.

Your body jerked forward with every thrust, your hands clawing at the sheets, struggling to keep yourself upright as Vi fucked into you with no mercy, her grip on your hips bruising.

“F-Fuck—Vi—” Your voice broke, barely more than a desperate, breathless cry.

Behind you, Vi grinned, her breath hot against your sweat-damp skin as she leaned down, her toned chest pressing against your back.

“Yeah?” she rasped, mocking, her voice hoarse from exertion, from wrecking you for the past hour. “S’too much, baby? Can’t take it?”

Her pace didn’t falter—not for a second.

She was relentless, hips driving forward, burying her thick pink strap so deep inside you that you swore you could feel it in your fucking throat.

You sobbed, face-down in the mattress, the pressure, the fullness, the fucking stretch making you see stars.

Vi chuckled, the sound dark, cocky, possessive.

“Aw, baby, that’s cute,” she purred, her calloused fingers snaking up your back, curling into your hair—yanking you up so your back arched beautifully.

Your gasp turned into a whimper, your scalp burning, but fuck—you loved it.

Vi knew you loved it.

“Tell me,” she growled, her breath hot against your ear. “Who’s fucking you this good, huh?”

You couldn’t answer.

You literally couldn’t—your words choked by the overwhelming pleasure, by the way her strap hit every perfect spot, by the way too much, too good feeling crawling up your spine.

“Uh-uh, don’t go dumb on me now, sweetheart,” she mocked, slapping your ass hard, the sting making you jolt. “Use your words.”

“I-I—” You sobbed, your head spinning, your thighs quivering from the sheer force of her thrusts.

Vi tch’d, yanking your head back further, her pace somehow getting faster, harder, more punishing—

“Fucking say it.”

“You—Vi, it’s you, fuck—”

Your scream cracked as she slammed even deeper, your arms giving out, your body collapsing fully onto the mattress, letting Vi manhandle you however the fuck she wanted.

She groaned, hands gripping your ass, spreading you open, watching the way your soaked pussy swallowed every inch of her strap.

“God, look at you,” she gritted out, voice tight, shaky, like she was barely holding herself together. “Taking me so fuckin’ well, baby. You were made for this dick, huh?”

You couldn’t even process words anymore.

Your body shook, your jaw slack, your vision blurry as she kept fucking into you with that merciless, jackrabbit pace—giving you no chance to breathe, no room to recover, no way to run from the pleasure threatening to consume you whole.

Vi grinned, feeling you clench around her strap, hearing the high, desperate little moans spilling from your lips.

“You close, baby?”

You nodded frantically, legs trembling, thighs burning from the sheer force of her thrusts.

Vi smirked, digging her fingers into your hips, bruising, possessive, determined to keep you there, pinned, helpless as she fucked you into oblivion.

“Then fucking cum for me.”

And fuck, you did.

Your whole body locked up, a strangled, broken sob ripping from your throat as the orgasm slammed through you like a truck, your vision going white, your limbs twitching uncontrollably.

Vi groaned, watching you come undone, watching your pussy squeeze her strap, watching your body completely surrender to her.

She let you ride it out, slowing just barely, drawing out every last shockwave of pleasure—

But she didn’t stop.

Not even when your body started shaking, not when you tried to crawl forward, not when whimpers of overstimulation left your lips.

“Nuh-uh, babe,” she growled, pulling you back onto her strap, her movements never faltering.

“We’re not fuckin’ done.”

[starsinthesky5]

what about joe? is he mr. possessive too?

───────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───────

oh, absolutely. joe is just as possessive, if not more. i mean, look at who he's with? millions of men and women had their hearts broken the moment the first photo of joe and her surfaced. plenty of people want her, but they just can’t have her…and joe makes sure of that ;)

the difference is that while she wears her possessiveness and jealousy like a statement piece--subtle but unmistakable--joe’s possessiveness is quieter, more controlled. but don’t get me wrong, it’s there, bubbling just beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to show itself. he was always, and i mean always calm, cool, and collected. on and off the field.

like when some random guy gets a little too comfortable in her space, touching her arm when he laughs at something she said, or leaning in just a little too close. joe doesn’t make a scene, doesn’t immediately pull her away, but his hand finds the small of her back, fingers spreading wide across her skin. he does that to not only calm himself, but calm her in case she ever felt uncomfortable from any of the attention she received, and sometimes she did. sometimes the looks would linger a second longer than they were meant to, sometimes a touch felt more forceful than playful, and sometimes she could sense the unspoken intentions behind a seemingly harmless gesture.

and when joe noticed (which was always) his eyes darkened, his jaw tightened, and anyone paying attention would know--he was warning them.

nobody is about to mess with his girl while he’s right there. nope. not happening. her comfort, safety, and happiness was his number 1 priority at any given time.

but he wouldn't always become possessive because he felt the need to protect her, there were some moments when she wore something that makes her look so good it physically hurt, and he believed that only he was meant to see her looking like this. he won’t tell her to change--he loves when she looks good, loves when she feels confident--but his hand stays on her, a silent reminder to everyone else that she’s his.

doesn't matter where, her hip, her thigh, her back, her arm...his hand is there.

and then there are moments when it’s just them--when the world fades away and all that’s left is heat and hunger and him. when he’s pressing her into the mattress, hands everywhere, touch burning and possessive. his breath is hot against her skin, sending shivers down her spine as he murmurs, "mine. say it."

but it’s not just a request--it’s a demand.

his fingers tighten on her hips, holding her there, keeping her exactly where he wants her. his lips trace a slow path down her neck, his teeth grazing over sensitive skin, making her whimper. he knows exactly what he’s doing, how to push her to the edge before he’s even inside her. she’s breathless, dizzy with need, but he won’t move until he hears it.

"joe--,".

his grip tightens. "baby, say it,".

his voice is rough, wrecked, on the edge of losing control. she arches into him, nails raking down his back, eyes hazy with desire as she gasps, "yours. i’m yours, i promise,".

and that’s all it takes.

—

so, yes--mr. possessive is very much alive and breathing. and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

he never took it too far, never made it feel intimidating or aggressive. he was protective over her, and she was extremely grateful for that (mostly because her exes could never come close to how joe was so...man. does that even make sense? like 6'4, muscles for days, piercing blue eyes, and a smile that shined brighter than the rarest jewels in the world. like he was so man. so knight-in-shining armor coded). you know those tweets asking if a celebrities ex could fight because their significant other looked so damn gorgeous and the fans want a piece of that? well, prior to joe, her exes, no matter which one, would easily be mauled by the heard of fans that rode for her. they didn’t stand a chance.

but joe? oh, joey b knew how to fight.

oh, and he knew how exactly lucky he was to have stolen her heart, and she loved knowing that he never took that for granted. he was honestly wrapped around her pretty little finger, but in the best, most precious way possible.

his possessiveness came solely from a place of love, because joe burrow was not keen on the idea of sharing the best thing that quite literally had ever happened to him, with the entire world.

for example:

mr. possessive™ at paris fashion week.

—

she looks stunning. like, jaw-droppingly, heart-stoppingly, paris-just-declared-her-a-national-treasure stunning.

joe knew she would, duh. he’s seen her in everything, and more importantly, in nothing, but there’s something about the way she carries herself tonight--graceful, confident, walking beside him like she belongs on the cover of vogue--that has him feeling some type of way.

or maybe it’s the way everyone is looking at her that's affecting him--because everyone is looking at her.

the event is a who’s who of the fashion world, and they’re here as guests, dressed to the nines, mingling with designers, models, and celebrities. but no matter where they go, no matter who they talk to, joe can feel eyes on her. the cameras flashed like crazy when they arrived, the crowd buzzing with excitement as they made their way inside. she’s a star in her own right, and joe loves that. loves that she’s not just known as his girlfriend--she’s her.

multi-platinum, award-winning singer-songwriter. the pop princess herself.

like, hell yeah. he's her boyfriend if anything.

but with that title and prestige, those looks and eyes came naturally. one guy in particular--some too-pretty-for-his-own-good european actor type--has been looking at her a little too long.

joe notices it when they first arrive. then again during cocktail hour. and now, as they make their way to their seats for the show, pretty boy is back, standing just a few feet away, sipping his champagne and watching.

joe clenches his jaw, his fingers flexing slightly where they rest against her lower back.

she hasn’t noticed yet, too busy talking with the designer of the show they’re about to watch, laughing softly at something she says. joe loves her laugh, loves that she’s having fun, but it’s hard to focus when this guy is still looking at her like she’s up for auction.

and then--get this--he actually makes his move.

what a stupid, stupid mistake.

the guy steps forward, a confident smile on his lips as he says something to her in french--because of course he does.

joe doesn’t even give her a chance to respond. before she can turn to acknowledge him, joe is there.

his arm loops around her waist, pulling her close against his side, his hand splaying possessively across her hipbone. the move is effortless, smooth, like it was always meant to happen, but it’s intentional as hell.

she tenses slightly, finally catching on, and oh, she loves this. she doesn’t get to see jealous, possessive joe be so bold like this, but when she does?

it’s hot.

the actor’s smirk doesn’t falter, so either he was oblivious as hell or he had a death wish. "i was just telling her she looked stunning tonight,".

joe lifts a brow, expression unreadable but voice smooth. "yeah? you and half of pairs,".

the guy chuckles, clearly unbothered by the comment. "can you blame us?".

joe doesn’t answer him, because he's still seething about his smooth, buttery, alluring french accent (even though it did bother joe a teeny bit because of how he remembered her saying she thought accents were cute).

instead, he tilts her chin up and kisses her.

not just a quick kiss--a statement.

it’s sluggish, deep, possessive. a conscious show of who she belongs to. his hands slid up and down her sides, his lips mashed closer to hers, the soft sighs started coming from her mouth. damn.

when he pulls away, the actor is just...gone.

and she? she’s breathless.

joe smirks, brushing his thumb over her lips before murmuring, "you’re mine, baby. and i don’t share,".

she hums, pressing a teasing kiss to his jaw. "mmm. you like when they want me, don’t you?".

he exhales sharply, because she’s not wrong. "i like reminding them they can’t have you,".

[spiderb00bs]

- A Night To Remember!

Ella Purnell x Fem reader

"You made a request to your girlfriend, and she always did everything you wanted."

Genre - smut Warnings - sex w strap | MDNI

Now Playing - Red Wine Supernova, by Chappell Roan

n/a - This was a request, but i accidentally deleted it. But if you're seeing this, yk it's u ;)

Your panting was the loudest sound in the room, your girlfriend's kisses descended from your lips to your jaw, nibbling and licking until she reached your neck. Your hands were tightly gripping the fabric of the shirt Ella was wearing, and even though those pajamas had awakened something in you, all you wanted to do was take them off her body.

You knew what was coming when you saw the bulge in your girlfriend's tiny shorts, and you couldn't deny that you loved it. A few days ago, you had asked Ella what she thought about fucking you with the strap, and you could have sworn you saw her eyes light up the moment the idea hit her brain.

So here you were, underneath the woman as she let you explore her body, feeling you run your hands from her back to her breasts.

"Are you ready, darling?" Ella asked, her accent made you shiver every time.

"Aren't you going to take it off?" You said, pulling the hem of your shirt up, making your girlfriend giggle as she allowed you to pull the shirt off her body.

"Are you satisfied now?" Ella said, directing the tip of the strap to your pussy, teasing you.

You groaned, very annoyed at being the only one completely naked there - because your girlfriend was still wearing those fucking short shorts - but also because you were too horny to complain.

"Hey, don't be a bad girl. Remember, I'm the boss today, baby." She said, not even giving you time to protest.

A loud moan left you as Ella pushed herself inside you. The feeling of the strap and your girlfriend kissing your body and stimulating your breasts was wonderful, and you swore you could live like this forever.

"Fuck babe, that feels so good!" You said, grabbing Ella's shoulders. The naughty little smile on her face said she was loving this as much as you were.

"Fuck, oh my god babe, you're so tight, I can barely move!" The giggle that left your girlfriend's lips made your head fall back. How could that woman be so hot?

Seeing your neck on display, Ella took the opportunity to suck on your sensitive spot, increasing the speed of her thrusts, making her go deeper and deeper inside you.

your nails scratched the woman's lightly tanned skin, your nails scratched the woman's lightly tanned skin, giving Ella a twisted pleasure, who moaned with pain.

"Damn babe, why didn't you ask me to do this before?" Ella laughed once more, seeing that you couldn't say a word, just letting your moans come out. "You're enjoying it, aren't you? How I fuck you?" You nodded, it was the only thing you could do while your girlfriend fucked you so good.

Grabbing your thighs, Ella began to move with precision, hitting your g-spot suddenly. Hearing you moan more and more, the woman brought her hand to your clit, massaging it.

"Baby, I'm gonna..." You couldn't even finish your sentence, your words were replaced by screams in less than seconds, while you came hard, wetting Ella's abdomen, her shorts and the sheets.

"Holy shit, baby..." Ella said, bending down and giving your pussy an experimental lick, making you moan with sensitivity. "You're really something, huh?!"

Kissing your forehead, Ella lay down next to you, only to feel the wet sheets, as well as her shorts.

"Okay, Miss Messy, let's clean up."

Laughing, you both got out of bed, - with difficulty - Ella changed the sheets while you were in the tub, and then joined you.

Relaxing her shoulders, she leaned her back against your front, feeling comforted in being so intimately beside you.

"I love you." The brunette said, stroking your hair and kissing your hand, which was holding her comfortably.

"I love you even more." You said, kissing her neck, making her giggle at the tickling.

Now that was a night to remember!

the way I thought of this picture of Ella the EXACT moment I read this request, OMG she looks so hot in this picture 😭😭

How are you guys? I'm working on the bigger requests, so while they're not ready, I thought I'd release some short requests to keep you entertained.

sorry for the absence, it's been really complicated lately. My main blog hasn't seen me in ages 🫣

anyway, stay safe

xoxo, spider.

[acynicalsweetheart]

HIII i love ur writing so much !!! if your requests are open (and if they arent, feel free to delete this ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა) may i request curly x fem reader who’s jimmy’s girlfriend, but like curly is head over heeellss for her?

if thats not your style, no worries! you can delete my request for any reason, but thank you so much if you write this!! >_< 😭💗

hai thanku very much anon ♡… sawry it took forever. this is awful omg i had no idea. what direction i wanted to take this in LOL. but here’s your head over HEELS sorry had to… anyway first non dead dove drabble yay

content warning: 18+, infidelity

“Curly, stooppp!” You draw between giggles, playfully slapping his awfully muscular yet plush arm. The kind of plush that makes you want to bite a chunk out of it. 

“What? I’m not doing anything.” Curly flashes you his blindingly white Hollywood smile, fingers tickling your side for the eleventh time in the past five minutes. 

Jimmy glares at Curly. Then at you. His gaze burns holes into your skull like it’s made of lasers. 

You blow a kiss to the scowling face across the couch. 

Frown deepening further than you’ve ever seen before, Jimmy pinches the bridge of his nose. “I need a drink.” 

“Okay, babe,” you speak to Jimmy’s back as he’s leaving the room, returning your attention to Curly to get your revenge by attacking his side for a change. 

His couch squeaks when he squirms away, chuckling and grabbing your wrists. Craning his neck, Curly chimes to the doorway. “Hey, get one for me too!” 

A groan can be heard all the way from the kitchen. 

“Oh,” Curly’s face brightens like he has a revelation, letting go of you to briefly search his pockets to pull out a small velvet box. It looks comically miniature in his hand when he holds it out. “I got this for you.”

“What’s that?” You ask confused and curious, ‘cause it very much looks like he might just propose to you. 

It opens sesame. 

“An anklet.” 

“Oh.” 

Well, thank God. Jimmy would’ve fucking shot Curly if it was a ring. 

“Here, let me…” Curly reaches for your feet, careful in the way he peels off your socks and it’s all oddly romantic. So romantic there’s a slight heartbeat beneath your panties. 

Jimmy would never do that for you and that’s why it’s so wrong. 

“There,” he closes the clasp after a good two minute fumble, adorning your ankle with gold that costs more than your boyfriend’s entire net worth. 

“Oh,” it’s so shiny you can’t help but to blink at it, “wow. You… could’ve just gotten me a bracelet or something, Curly, I mean—“

“I could’ve,” his gentle up-and-down caresses to your calves pause, quickly adding, “but who would’ve gotten you this?”

You both know the answer to that question. 

“It’s not that I—“ 

“Hey, next time, I’ll get you that bracelet.” He pulls out his phone, squinting at the screen as his fingers move. 

“It’s fine, Curly,” you tell him—not wanting to seem ungrateful, “this is more than enough.”

But he’s already typing in his credit card information on the Tiffany & Co website when you look over his shoulder. 

What are you supposed to do? Smack the phone out of his hold? It feels… nice to be appreciated. Jimmy’s never bought you anything—you’re the one buying shit for him. Including his black market drugs. 

“Jim’s not coming,” you note after a long moment of awkward silence, poking your head forward like he’s coming through the doorway any second. 

“I guess not.” Curly says, meeting your eye once you look back at him. 

Almost kind of scary, the tenderness in his gaze. Not like Jimmy’s wolfish one that says he wants to eat you alive. In the cannibal way. 

“You’re gorgeous.”

“Me?” You can’t help but to laugh out loud, it’s so sudden, and Jimmy’s your boyfriend and he doesn’t even think that. “No… no I—“

“You are!” Curly insists, making a motion with his hands towards you. “Doesn’t he tell you that? Doesn’t he…” he pauses again, voice lowering, “show you that?”

“Show me?” 

“Like this,” he leans in closer, like way in-your-personal-bubble type of closer, noses brushing against each other. Curly lifts your chin up like he’s about to do something forbidden. 

You were almost convinced it was a joke till he actually kissed you. 

“Oh!” Lightly pushing on his chest, you stare at him. “Curly, that’s… we can’t.” 

Fisting at Curly’s shirt to pull him closer, you kiss him back. Harder. 

“Stop it,” like you’re not the one sucking on his tongue, tracing the bulge in his pants with your toes. “He’ll kill us!” It’s a half-whisper, half-yell. 

“Nah, I know Jim.” Says Curly, who more than well knows that Jimmy would have both of your heads on each respective stick to then keep as decorations in his trailer, “trust me.”

“Well…” but Jimmy doesn’t seem to be coming back anytime soon—you know him well enough to assume that he’s most likely sulking by now. “Okay then.”

And so you let him lay you down on his couch the way Jimmy did your first time with him. Only Curly is a thousand times more gentle in comparison. You’re a bad person for thinking it, but you almost wish Curly was your first. 

You’re still desperately kissing when his hands trail up your thighs, creeping under the hem of your dress to pull down your panties. Curly gets them about halfway down when you hear the unthinkable and the unmistakable. 

The cock of a gun. 

Jimmy’s holding this pesky little revolver that he probably found in his mom’s bedside drawer—the same one she blew her brains out with—pointing it at Curly and you with an expression resembling a wild animal more than a human face.