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promptedwordsmith · 2 days ago

Note

I love your headcannons so I gotta put an ask in here. As we all know, MC can act a bit childish and is quick to push touch/affection away.

It makes me think of the quote, "If you touch me without violence, you'll be the first". Would love a writing about it.

Aw thank you! I hope this is what you meant <3

Caleb

The first time Caleb touched you, you flinched.

It was barely anything—a fleeting brush of his fingers against yours as he handed you something, an innocent, meaningless gesture—but your entire body stiffened, your breath hitched, and before you even realized it, you had yanked your hand back.

The warmth of his skin lingered, and you hated it.

Caleb noticed. Of course, he did. His sharp violet eyes flickered with something unreadable, but he didn’t say anything. Not then.

But he never stopped touching you.

Not in a way that was forceful or overwhelming. Never in a way that felt like he was trying to push you past your boundaries. But it was there—the careful way his shoulder would bump into yours when you walked side by side, the way he’d place his hand on your lower back as he guided you through a crowd, the way his fingers would brush against your wrist when he passed you something.

Each time, your reaction was the same. A flinch. A step back. A refusal.

At first, he gave you space. He didn’t push, didn’t question. Caleb wasn’t the type to force someone into anything they weren’t ready for. But he wasn’t blind either. He saw the way your guard never dropped, the way your muscles tensed at even the gentlest touch.

And then, one night, he finally asked.

You were both standing outside, the city lights stretching far into the distance, stars barely visible beyond the haze. It was quiet between you, peaceful, until he broke it with a simple question.

“Why do you hate being touched?”

You froze.

Your fingers curled into fists, your heart hammering against your ribs. You wanted to ignore him, wanted to pretend you hadn’t heard, but Caleb wasn’t the kind of person who let things slide.

When you didn’t answer, he turned to face you fully, his voice steady but softer than usual. “It’s not just me, is it?” His eyes searched yours. “You don’t let anyone touch you.”

You swallowed hard.

And then you said it. The words that had been sitting on your tongue for years, unspoken, buried beneath layers of defense and survival.

“If you touch me without violence, you’ll be the first.”

The weight of those words crushed the space between you.

Caleb didn’t react right away. He didn’t wince, didn’t gasp, didn’t give you that pitying look you dreaded seeing. Instead, he just stood there, his violet gaze locked onto yours, taking in everything you weren’t saying.

You braced yourself for rejection, for discomfort, for him to leave—but he didn’t.

Instead, after a long pause, he let out a slow breath and said, “…Then I guess I’ll have to be first.”

Your stomach twisted. “Caleb—”

“I won’t push you.” His voice was firm but patient. “I won’t touch you until you let me.”

That should’ve been the end of it. It should’ve been the part where you turned away and let him go, where he accepted your boundaries and never tried again.

But the problem was Caleb never stopped caring about you.

And worse? You had let yourself care about him too.

Caleb never tried to force his way into your space, never laid a hand on you without permission. But he stayed.

He stayed through the silence, through the bad days, through the moments when you wanted to push everyone away but couldn’t bring yourself to do it with him.

He made himself a constant.

And that was dangerous.

Because the longer he stayed, the more you caught yourself wanting to reach for him.

The more you caught yourself watching his hands—the same hands that had held weapons, that had taken lives, that had commanded entire fleets—and wondering how they would feel if they touched you gently.

The more you caught yourself leaning in just a little when he stood beside you, like some part of you was trying to unlearn a lifetime of flinching.

You weren’t used to it.

You weren’t used to someone treating you like you were something precious instead of something hardened. You weren’t used to someone looking at you like you were worth waiting for.

And it scared you.

Because if you let yourself have this, if you let him in—what then?

It happened one night when you weren’t thinking.

You had both been caught in a battle, pushed to your limits, and despite everything—despite all the odds—you had both made it out alive.

Caleb was covered in cuts and bruises, exhaustion heavy in his limbs, but the moment he saw you stumble, he reached for you instinctively—just like he always did.

And this time, for the first time, you didn’t pull away.

His hands found your arms, steadying you, grounding you. You felt his warmth, his strength—and you let him hold you.

It was so small. So insignificant in the grand scheme of things. Just his hands on your arms, steady and reassuring. But to you, it felt like something shattered.

Caleb stilled, his grip light, as if he half-expected you to come to your senses and shove him away. His eyes searched yours, cautious, waiting.

But you didn’t move.

For the first time, you let yourself be touched without bracing for pain.

Without expecting violence.

Without fear.

And the look Caleb gave you in that moment—soft, careful, like he knew exactly how much this meant even if you hadn’t said a word—was enough to make something inside you break.

You swallowed hard, pulse racing.

“You’re the first.” The words slipped out before you could stop them, barely a whisper, but Caleb heard them.

He exhaled slowly, his thumb brushing the edge of your sleeve in the gentlest motion imaginable.

“Then I’ll make sure I’m never the last.”

And you believed him.

For the first time in your life, you actually believed someone.

Because Caleb had never broken a promise to you before.

And deep down, you knew he never would.

Rafayel

Rafayel had always been affectionate—too affectionate, if you were being honest. It wasn’t just the teasing smirks or the casual way he draped himself over you like a cat seeking warmth. It was the way his hands would linger, the way his gaze softened when he looked at you, the way he spoke your name like it was something precious.

But you weren’t used to it.

So, when he leaned in too close, when his fingers brushed against yours absentmindedly, when his warmth wrapped around you in unspoken promises of safety, you pushed him away. Not roughly, not cruelly, but firm enough to make the message clear.

He didn’t take offense, at least not outwardly. Rafayel always bounced back with a lopsided grin, a lazy roll of his shoulders, as if to say, Fine, I’ll wait. But there was something in his eyes—something quieter, something more knowing.

And you hated that.

Because deep down, you knew what he saw.

He saw the way you flinched, even when his touch was gentle. He saw the way your shoulders tensed whenever he got too close, the way you shrank away from affection like it was a foreign language you never learned to speak.

Most people didn’t notice. Most people assumed you were just distant, that maybe you simply weren’t the affectionate type.

Rafayel knew better.

And that made him dangerous.

It started one evening, after one of his exhibitions. The gallery had emptied out, the patrons long gone, and yet he lingered, still basking in the afterglow of another successful night. You had stayed behind too, for reasons you weren’t entirely sure of. Maybe because he had asked. Maybe because it was easier than saying no to him.

He had pulled you into the back room where his latest painting was covered with a cloth. With a dramatic flourish, he yanked it away, revealing the canvas beneath.

It was you.

Not a perfect replica, not a stiff, lifeless portrait. It was you in motion, caught mid-laugh, the golden glow of light flickering behind you as if you were something divine.

It took your breath away.

You swallowed hard, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “You painted this?”

“No, it painted itself.” Rafayel smirked, stepping closer. “Of course I painted it.”

You didn’t have words. You didn’t know how to process something so raw, so intimate. It was one thing for someone to look at you, but it was another thing entirely for someone to see you. And Rafayel had always seen you.

That was the problem.

“I—” The words stuck to your throat. You weren’t good at this. At accepting things. At being loved without conditions, without expectations.

And then, just like always, Rafayel reached for you.

His fingers, long and paint-stained, brushed against your wrist—light, hesitant, careful. No force, no demand, just warmth.

And just like always, you flinched.

You stepped back so fast you almost knocked over the easel. “Don’t.” The word escaped before you could stop it, sharp and unsteady.

Rafayel’s hand froze midair before he slowly pulled it back. His expression didn’t falter, but there was something—something—in his eyes. He tilted his head, studying you with that same knowing look that had always unsettled you.

“Why?” His voice was soft. Not teasing. Not mocking. Just curious.

Your throat tightened. You wanted to tell him to drop it. You wanted him to go back to making jokes, to fill the silence with something light, something meaningless.

But he didn’t.

Because Rafayel never let things go.

You swallowed. “Because… if you touch me without violence, you’ll be the first.”

The words hung between you, heavy and raw.

For a moment, there was silence.

Then Rafayel exhaled, slow and careful, as if he were afraid of shattering you. “Oh.”

He didn’t say anything else. He didn’t apologize, didn’t pity you. He just stood there, watching you with those piercing blue-pink eyes of his, like he was unraveling all the pieces of you you’d kept hidden for so long.

It made you want to run.

And maybe he saw that too, because he took a step back. Gave you space.

“Okay,” he said simply.

You blinked. “Okay?”

He nodded. “I won’t touch you. Not unless you want me to.”

The simplicity of it made something inside you ache.

You nodded, not trusting your voice.

For the first time in your life, someone didn’t demand. Someone didn’t take.

Someone just waited.

Days passed, and true to his word, Rafayel never touched you. He still leaned into your space, still gave you that infuriatingly charming grin, but his hands never reached for you again. Not once.

And you hated that you noticed.

You noticed the absence of his touch. You noticed the way his fingers twitched when he was excited, the way his hands curled into fists like he had to remind himself not to reach for you. You noticed how much you wanted him to.

It was terrifying.

It was exhilarating.

And one night, when he was sitting beside you, lazily sketching something while you both watched the waves crash against the shore, you made the first move.

It was small. Barely anything.

Just your pinky brushing against his.

But Rafayel noticed.

His breath hitched, and his gaze flickered to you, cautious, questioning.

You didn’t pull away.

Neither did he.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. The air between you felt electric, buzzing with something unspoken, something fragile.

Then Rafayel, ever patient, ever waiting, turned his hand palm-up beneath yours.

An invitation.

Not a demand.

You hesitated, your heart pounding, before slowly—so slowly—you let your fingers slip into his.

Warmth. Solid, steady warmth.

No violence.

No pain.

Just him.

Rafayel said nothing, didn’t make a big deal of it. He just held your hand like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like he had been waiting lifetimes for it.

And maybe, just maybe, you had been waiting too.

Sylus

The first time Sylus touched you, you flinched.

It was subtle—just a stiffening of your shoulders, a flicker of tension in your stance. But for someone as dangerously observant as Sylus, it was enough. His fingers had barely brushed your wrist—light, almost teasing—as he leaned in to whisper something low in your ear.

And yet, you recoiled.

He didn’t comment on it then, only let a smirk curl at the corner of his lips as if he hadn’t noticed.

But he had.

Of course, he had.

Sylus never missed anything.

Sylus was nothing if not patient.

He had seen resistance before. He had encountered people who feared him, people who worshipped him, people who wanted something from him. But you?

You were different.

You didn’t fear him—you feared being touched.

And that… was fascinating.

So, he tested it.

Little things, at first. A hand at the small of your back as he guided you through a door. A knuckle brushing over your cheek under the excuse of tucking away a stray strand of hair. A moment where he let his fingers graze yours when he passed you something.

Every time, your body tensed—just slightly—but you didn’t pull away.

Not right away.

You always let it happen for a heartbeat longer than necessary, as if waiting for something.

And that was when he knew.

You weren’t just unused to affection.

You were waiting for it to turn into something else.

Something harsher. Something cruel.

Something violent.

And that realization—that truth about you—made his blood burn with something he couldn’t quite name.

The night it finally broke, Sylus hadn’t meant to push too far.

It had been a long evening, tension thrumming beneath the surface between you both like an electric current. You had been irritatingly stubborn during negotiations, as always, challenging him, testing him, making him bite back a smirk as you stood your ground.

But the moment that lingered with him was after, when the night had settled and you had found yourself alone in his office.

He approached you like he always did—without hesitation.

This time, he touched your face, his thumb grazing over your cheek in a slow, deliberate motion. It wasn’t just teasing.

It wasn’t just a test.

It was real.

And you panicked.

You slapped his hand away, hard. The sound cracked through the air, sharp and startling, but Sylus didn’t react. He barely blinked, only watching as you took a step back, breath uneven, eyes wild.

His fingers flexed once before he let them drop to his side.

For a moment, there was silence.

Then, quietly—

"If you touch me without violence, you’ll be the first."

It wasn’t said with anger. It wasn’t a warning or a threat.

It was just… the truth.

And Sylus, for once in his life, didn’t have a response.

Something Unspoken

After that, he changed tactics.

He didn’t stop touching you entirely—no, never that. But he let you decide.

He let you approach him.

He gave you space but stayed close enough that you could always reach him if you wanted to.

And, for a while, you didn’t.

But then—

One night, after an exhausting mission, you sat beside him, close enough that your shoulder brushed against his. You didn’t move away.

Another time, when exhaustion weighed on you, you let him take your wrist to check your pulse, your fingers trembling slightly—but not from fear.

And then, the night that changed everything—

You let him touch your face again.

This time, when his hand cradled your cheek, you leaned into it.

Not much. Just a fraction. Just enough that he could feel the shift.

Just enough for him to know.

And that was all the permission he needed.

Slowly, deliberately, his thumb traced the curve of your jaw, his voice low when he finally spoke:

"I would never hurt you."

Your breath hitched.

He felt it.

He didn’t ask why it was so hard for you to believe him. He didn’t ask who had left you expecting pain from every touch, from every lingering moment.

He only let his hand remain where it was, grounding, steady—yours, if you wanted it.

And finally, you did.

You didn’t say anything that night. You didn’t have to.

But after that, something changed.

Sylus, perceptive as always, noticed immediately.

The way your body no longer tensed at his presence. The way you lingered just a little closer when you stood beside him. The way your fingers, hesitant at first, brushed against the sleeve of his coat as if testing a boundary you weren’t sure you were allowed to cross.

And the way, eventually, you did.

It happened late one evening, when the city outside was silent, the only sounds in the room the distant hum of a record player spinning on low and the soft shuffle of papers on his desk.

You had been sitting across from him, absentmindedly twirling a pen between your fingers when, out of nowhere—you reached for him.

Your hand, small but steady, settled against his.

No hesitation. No flinching. No fear.

Sylus, always composed, almost stopped breathing.

You didn’t say anything, and neither did he.

But his fingers curled over yours, slow, deliberate—a silent promise.

A promise that, for the first time in your life, someone’s touch wouldn’t bring pain.

And that was enough.

For now.

Xavier

The first time Xavier reached for you, you flinched.

It was instinct, sharp and immediate. His fingers had barely brushed your sleeve before you jerked away, stepping out of reach so fast you nearly tripped over your own feet. His hand hung in the air for a moment before he slowly lowered it, tilting his head as if trying to decipher something unsaid.

You weren’t looking at him, though. You were staring at your own hands, fingers curled into fists at your sides, knuckles tight. Get it together.

"You okay?" His voice was light, easy, like he hadn’t just watched you recoil from his touch as if it burned.

You forced yourself to nod. "Yeah. Just—" You hesitated, then exhaled sharply. "You shouldn’t do that."

Xavier raised an eyebrow. "Do what?"

You lifted your chin, meeting his gaze with something colder than you really felt. "Touch me."

His eyes flickered with something unreadable before his expression shifted back to something more familiar—a smirk, teasing but careful. "Alright," he said, as if it didn’t matter. "No touching."

Except it did matter. Because Xavier wasn’t someone who kept his hands to himself—not in an intrusive way, but in a way that made him feel real. He was the kind of person who nudged you with his elbow when he made a joke, who ruffled your hair just to annoy you, who tugged at your sleeve when he wanted your attention.

But he listened.

For the next few weeks, he was careful. He kept his distance, kept his hands in his pockets, kept a respectable space between the two of you even when it was just the two of you on a mission, walking side by side.

And for some reason, it made your chest ache.

You wanted him close.

You just didn’t know how to let him be.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like him. If anything, that was the problem.

Xavier had wormed his way into your life in a way no one else had before. He was constant—too constant, maybe. There was no hesitation in the way he cared, no moment of doubt in his affection. He liked you, so he showed it. He wanted to be around you, so he was. There was no second-guessing, no caution.

You didn’t know what to do with that.

Because affection had always come with conditions. Because touches had always been accompanied by something sharp—by expectation, by control, by violence.

So the idea of Xavier touching you with nothing but warmth?

It scared you more than any fight ever had.

"You ever gonna tell me why?"

You blinked up from where you sat at the edge of a rooftop, staring out at the cityscape below. Xavier was standing a few feet away, arms crossed, gaze unreadable.

"Why what?"

"Why you don’t like me touching you." His voice wasn’t accusing, wasn’t pushing—it was just curious.

You swallowed. "I just don’t."

Xavier hummed, as if considering that. "You sure about that?"

You tensed. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

He shrugged, stepping forward—not close, but closer. "I’ve seen the way you look at me sometimes."

Your heart skipped. "I don’t—"

"You do," he interrupted, voice softer now. "Like you want me to reach for you, but you don’t know if you should let me."

You exhaled sharply. "It’s not that simple."

"Then explain it to me."

Your fingers curled against the fabric of your sleeves, gripping tightly. You should have expected this—Xavier wasn’t the type to let things go so easily. He was patient, sure, but he wasn’t blind. He noticed things, noticed you.

And now, he was waiting.

You stared at your hands. "If you touch me without violence," you murmured, voice barely above a whisper, "you’ll be the first."

Silence.

For a moment, you thought he might not have heard you. But then, after a long pause, Xavier let out a quiet breath.

"That’s a damn shame," he said. His voice was soft, but not pitying. "Because you deserve better than that."

You didn’t look at him. "Maybe."

"You do," he said, firmer this time. "And I want to prove it to you."

Your breath hitched. "Xavier—"

"I won’t touch you until you want me to," he promised. "But when you do?" His gaze was steady, unwavering. "I’ll make sure you never have to doubt it."

It took time.

Xavier kept his promise. He didn’t touch you—not even accidentally. He was careful, patient in a way that made your chest ache. But he never pulled away emotionally. He was still there, still unwavering, still him.

And slowly, slowly, you started to realize something.

You wanted to close that distance.

You wanted him.

It started small—lingering closer when you walked together, sitting next to him instead of across the room, letting your shoulders brush just slightly before pulling away. And Xavier noticed. He always did.

But he didn’t push.

He let you take your time, let you move at your own pace.

Until one night, after a mission, when you were exhausted and sore and tired of your own fear, you turned to him and—hesitantly, carefully—reached for his hand.

His fingers twitched in surprise, but he didn’t hesitate. He let you take his hand in yours, let you squeeze it lightly before letting go just as quickly.

You expected him to say something—maybe tease you, maybe push for more. But he didn’t. He just smiled, warm and real.

"Was that so bad?" he asked, amusement lacing his tone.

You huffed, rolling your eyes. "Shut up."

Xavier chuckled, but there was something softer in his gaze. "Alright. No teasing. Not today, anyway."

You nudged him lightly with your elbow. "I hate you."

He grinned. "You love me."

You paused.

Then, quietly, you admitted, "Yeah."

Xavier stilled. His smile faltered—just for a second—before it softened into something genuine. Something real.

"Good," he murmured.

And for the first time, when he reached for you, you didn’t pull away.

Zayne

Zayne had always been patient. It was in his nature, woven into the fabric of his being just as much as his steady hands and level-headed presence. As a surgeon, patience was a necessity—an unwavering calm in the face of pressure, a stillness when chaos reigned.

But this was different.

This was you.

You, with your guarded eyes and the walls you built around yourself so high that even he, with all his skill, couldn’t navigate them easily. He had known from the start that you were different—not because you were difficult, not because you weren’t capable of love, but because the world had been cruel to you in ways it hadn’t been to him.

And still, he wanted you.

It started slow. The quiet companionship, the moments where neither of you needed to speak but simply existed together. A shared cup of tea in the morning. The warmth of his coat draped over your shoulders on a cold night. He never pushed, never asked for more than you could give, and yet…

Even he had limits to his patience.

Zayne had always been affectionate. Not in a way that was overwhelming, nor in grand declarations. No, his love was in the small things—in the way his fingers would brush against yours when passing you something, in the way his voice would soften when speaking your name, in the way he would lean in, close enough that you could feel his warmth but never quite touching.

And so, when he reached for you one evening—just a simple touch, the lightest brush of his fingertips against your wrist—he hadn’t expected you to recoil the way you did.

You flinched, your entire body going rigid, as if his touch had burned you.

Zayne froze. His hazel-green eyes flickered with something unreadable before he slowly withdrew his hand, watching you carefully. He wasn’t offended, nor was he hurt, but there was something in his expression that made your stomach twist.

“Don’t,” you whispered, your voice quieter than you intended.

His brows furrowed slightly. “I—”

“If you touch me without violence, you’ll be the first.”

The words tumbled out before you could stop them, raw and sharp. The room felt heavier in their wake, like the air had been sucked from it.

Zayne didn’t speak for a moment. He simply looked at you, studying you in that careful way he always did—like he was dissecting a puzzle, trying to understand without breaking it further.

You hated the silence. Hated the way it stretched between you like an open wound.

Then, finally, he exhaled softly.

“I see.”

And just like that, he shifted back, putting a comfortable distance between you. Not out of rejection, not out of frustration, but because he understood. He always understood.

You expected him to ask. To pry. To demand to know what had led you to this—why you had flinched, why you had spoken those words with such bitterness. But he didn’t.

He simply nodded, accepting it as fact, and changed the subject.

It should have been a relief.

It wasn’t.

Because Zayne, for all his patience and for all his understanding, was not one to simply forget.

Days passed. Then weeks.

Zayne hadn’t touched you since.

Not in the way he used to. No fleeting brushes of his fingertips, no teasing nudges, no quiet, lingering moments where his warmth bled into yours. It was as if he had drawn a line in the sand and refused to cross it.

You told yourself it was for the best.

So why did it feel so much worse?

You had never needed touch. Never craved it, never longed for it. But now, in the absence of it, you felt its loss like a phantom pain. You missed it.

You missed him.

And so, when you found yourself standing outside his apartment one evening, your fingers curled into fists at your sides, you knew you had to do something.

The door opened before you could even knock.

Zayne blinked at you, surprised but not displeased. He stepped aside, wordlessly inviting you in.

You hesitated.

And then, taking a deep breath, you walked past him, into the familiar warmth of his home.

He didn’t ask why you were there.

He simply poured you tea, as he always did, and waited.

You stared at the cup in your hands, fingers tightening around the ceramic.

“I don’t…” You hesitated. “I don’t want you to stop.”

Zayne tilted his head slightly, watching you with quiet patience. “Stop what?”

You swallowed. “Touching me.”

For the first time in a long while, he seemed genuinely surprised. Not in a dramatic way—Zayne was never dramatic—but in the way his fingers stilled against his cup, in the way his gaze softened ever so slightly.

“I thought that’s what you wanted,” he said, his voice as steady as ever.

“I did.” Your throat felt tight. “I do. But I also… I don’t know.” You exhaled sharply. “I just… don’t want you to stop trying.”

Something in his expression shifted.

He set his cup down carefully before looking at you with an intensity that made your stomach twist. Not with judgment, not with pity—just understanding.

“I never stopped,” he murmured.

Your breath hitched.

“I just adjusted,” he continued. “To what you needed.”

And you realized, with startling clarity, that he had been touching you. Just not in the way you had expected.

It was in the way he always made you tea, the way he listened so intently, the way he never pushed, never pried, but always made sure you knew he was there.

He had been touching you in the only way you would allow.

And now? Now, you wanted more.

Tentatively, hesitantly, you reached out.

Your fingers brushed against the back of his hand, and you felt him still beneath your touch.

It was light. Barely there. But it was enough.

Zayne didn’t move. Didn’t push for more.

He simply let you choose.

And, for the first time in your life, you did.

You let yourself be touched—gently, without violence, without fear.

Zayne, patient as ever, simply held still and let you set the pace.

And maybe, just maybe, for the first time in a long time, you weren’t afraid.

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sematarygirls · 2 days ago

Note

Okay but he’d fuck you so hard when they lose the Super Bowl after you spends an hour gloating about the eagles handing their asses to them!

i saw this request and started giggling and kicking my feet omg. anon, i owe you my first born child. you are a GENIUS! (although, fair warning, i'm not great at writing smut. i hope this is okay <3) not proofread

cw: unprotected p in v, rough sex, mean rafe, slapping, degradation

Football tended to be a touchy subject between you and Rafe. Where you were a diehard Eagles fan, he wouldn't be caught dead rooting for them. After the Chiefs narrowly beat out the Eagles in the 2023 Super Bowl, Rafe wouldn't shut up for weeks about how "trash" the Eagles were. It drove you absolutely insane.

That's why, when the Eagles absolutely kicked ass this Super Bowl in a rematch against the Chiefs, beating them out at a whopping 40-22, you thought it was your well-deserved right to rub it in Rafe's face, much to his dismay.

One thing about Rafe is that gloating is only okay when he does it—much like a lot of other things (he's a very hypocritical guy), hence his growing anger when you wouldn't stop talking about how the Chiefs absolutely threw the game with all their fumbles, making jokes the whole time about how it seemed like they weren't even playing.

Another thing about Rafe? He tended to get violent when he was angry. With other people, this meant he'd kick their asses, but with you, it meant you were in for a long night of rough fucking to make him feel better and put you in your place for your "bratty attitude."

Though, if you tried to point out the hypocrisy with him finding your actions annoying when he had done the exact same two years prior, he would only get more annoyed and very, very defensive.

You'd learned at a very early stage in your relationship that some battles were not worth fighting with Rafe, and besides, you kind of liked it when he was all rough with you, manhandling and degrading you deliciously.

"Not so mouthy now, huh?" He taunted, pounding into you from behind. Each thrust pushed you forward a little bit, your face burying further into the pillows as you moaned. A sharp slap to your ass had you gasping, the pain sending a jolt of pleasure to your core that had you practically gushing around Rafe's thick length. You didn't know how long you'd been going at this with him, but he hadn't let you cum, nor had he let up the brutal pace.

"Look at you," he sneered. "Can't even think of anything to say back to me, huh? Thought you were gonna gloat all night about how the Eagles won." His words were cruel and biting, revealing the depth of his anger, which wasn't about the football game. It was more so about being challenged, his ego hurt after talking such a big game about how the Chiefs were going to dominate.

You couldn't form a coherent sentence. Your brain turned to mush as the only thing you could focus on were his rough hands on you and his length stretching your velvety walls. You could practically feel each ridge and vein of his cock as it slid back and forth, his tip nudging your cervix roughly with each pass.

"What happened to that smart mouth, huh?" He mocked. "Your dumb little brain's too desperate for cock, huh, bunny," he cooed, his tone patronizing as he continued to pound into you with rough strokes, making your back arch and eyes roll back.

He was so mean, but you loved it.

He was right. You couldn't respond to him anymore. You had lost your ability to form a single word, dumbed down to a mess of please sounds as he hit that sweet spot inside of you so perfectly. He took that as a victory, seeing it as proof that you knew your place. He loved it when you whimpered underneath him, completely at his mercy. "Look who's behaving now. You're lucky you're so pretty, honey," he continued, enjoying this little game of his. "Otherwise, I wouldn't put up with such a bratty mouth."

"Fuuuuuck," he groaned, giving your ass another sharp smack before his hands found your hips again, his grip bordering on painful. "And this fuckin' love this pussy. Fuckin' perfect, baby."

He was getting close. You could tell by the way his pace started to falter, and his words switched from degrading to praising. One hand slipped down to your clit, rubbing firm circles. Even when he was pissed, he still tried to make you cum first.

It didn't take much more effort on his part. Your thighs were already trembling, desperate for release from the moment he'd thrown you onto the bed and ripped your clothes off.

"You're gonna be a good girl now, huh? You're gonna stop being such a pain in the ass, aren't you?" He questioned, punctuating each question with a thrust. "No more running your mouth and riling me up, right?"

"Uh huh," you whined pathetically, needy and desperate to cum.

He knew he had you right where he wanted you, all pliant and begging. "Yeah, you gonna stop talking back, huh? You can be a good little bunny for me, can't you?" He cooed, his words sounding a little bit less harsh. He was enjoying having you like this, completely at his mercy.

All you could muster was a weak nod, your fingers gripping the sheets and mouth parted in ecstacy as you reached your peak, blinding pleasure overtaking your body as your walls clamped down around his cock.

"That's it, baby, just like that," he groaned, pumping a few more times before pushing deep inside you and releasing spurts of hot, sticky cum into your eager cunt.

515 notes · View notes

golden-cherry · 2 days ago

Text

deal - cl16 (49/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: Climbing up the mountain can be very freeing.

Warnings: angst (self-doubt, insecurities, mentions of abuse in a relationship, Charles is very insecure about himself), the end is a bit fluffy, but don't expect too much

Word Count: 4.1k

series masterlist

previous part

A/N: I feel like this describes Charles well. I cried when writing this chapter. I hope you like it. feedback is appreciated.

It is the first time in years that Charles has no desire to climb the mountain on those stupid skis.

His feet hurt, he is cold even though the jacket he is wearing is suitable for even colder temperatures, and his hands are so stiff from the frigid air that they painfully curl around his ski poles.

The snow blinds him because of the bright sun, his bones feel heavy, somehow his mouth is so dry that he would like to rinse it with water every five meters.

But maybe that's just because he'd rather be at home in Monaco. Because that's where you are. And there is no place he would rather be right now.

Closing the door behind him and leaving you alone in the apartment was incredibly difficult. He would have loved to put you in his bag and take you with him, but you would only have distracted him from training.

And if he wants to be world champion one day, he can't afford to make any mistakes.

It's been two days since he's seen you and heard your voice. In the morning, when he wakes up and gets ready for the day, you are still fast asleep, and during his training, Andrea has his phone so that Charles can collect his thoughts and stay focused. Only in the evening, when Charles is in bed, he manages to text you a few messages before falling asleep, cell phone in hand, completely exhausted.

He misses you every second.

Before he met you, he would never have imagined that he could miss someone he had only known for a few days so much. He had missed Annika from time to time, after all, he had definitely loved her at some point, but he had never longed for her or anyone else the way he did for you now.

As soon as he has a moment to himself, whether it's in the shower or on the toilet or when Andrea isn't bothering him with calories or carbohydrates or protein for a moment, he misses you so much that he can almost feel the physical distance between you.

But most of all, he misses you in the morning when he wakes up. When he is in that one second when he is neither sleeping nor fully awake. Snuggled up warm in the blanket and against the pillow, where in the evening he imagines it would be your body that he is snuggling up to. And in the morning, for a brief moment, it feels as if you are actually lying next to him, which is why the second he realizes that you are miles away from him hurts the most.

“Are you okay?” Andrea asks, who has slowed down a little to run up the hill next to Charles. ”You're suspiciously quiet.”

Charles, who hasn't realized that he has slowed down at all, looks at his trainer in confusion. “Yes, I'm fine. Why do you ask?”

Andrea shrugs. ”Usually you're chattering away at me during training. That usually helps you to distract yourself from how exhausting it is.”

He has a point there. Charles pushes himself forward on his skis. “I don't know. This time I don't feel like you're torturing me up this mountain. It's still the same route we usually take, isn't it?” He looks around as if he can recognize the surroundings.

Andrea raises his eyebrows and also picks up the pace. ‘We're in a completely different area, Charles.’ He points to another mountain with his gloved hand.

If his friend hadn't told him, the man from Monaco would never have noticed, so absorbed is he in his thoughts about you. The mountain Andrea is pointing to seems more familiar to him than the one in front of them. And a lot smaller. If they had taken the familiar route, they would have been at the summit long ago.

“You asshole,” Charles curses and wipes his face. ‘Why did you choose a different mountain? And especially one that's higher?”

Andrea can't help but grin. ’You came in second in the championship this year. I'm hoping that if we increase your training, you'll come in first next season and...”

“And what?” Charles interrupts his trainer. "The whole thing is useless if my strategists and the whole team mess up so much during the race. I can train as much as I want. It won't work." He gets so caught up in it that he doesn't notice how quickly he pushes himself up the mountain on his skis.

“Charles –”

“No, Andrea. This whole thing cost me the title. Wrong tires? Last-minute changes in the pit? What the hell?” he gets worked up. He knows that his anger is unfairly directed at the wrong person, after all Andrea is only there for Charles's well-being and not for what happens on the track, but it just comes spilling out. And he can't stop it.

His ski poles dig deep into the white snow, which Charles barely notices. He only sees the summit in front of him and hears Andrea breathing loudly next to him as he continues to complain.

“It's not right that I come in second because of such little things! If I had caused accidents, then at least it would have been my fault and I could have dealt with it more easily,” he says, annoyed. ”But what kind of stupid plans were these, anyway? Even a toddler could come up with a better strategy!”

Andrea, who knows full well that Charles needs to vent his anger, walks quietly beside him and lets the storm pass over him. It's not often that Charles gets this angry. And normally he blames himself, but he certainly doesn't take such serious mistakes on his head.

Charles knows that making mistakes is an inevitable part of competition, and sometimes, they're the difference between standing at the top of the podium and finishing second. Being the runner-up in a championship can feel bittersweet – so close to victory, yet just short of it.

Being second in the championship feels like a mix of pride and frustration. On one hand, Charles has achieved something incredible – outperforming almost everyone, proving his skill and showing that he deserves to sit in the red car with the horse on it. But on the other hand, there's that lingering thought inside of his head – he was so close. The tiniest mistakes, the small miscalculations in his strategies, or someone else having a slightly better day made the difference in the end.

There's this ache inside of him, knowing he was almost the champion. The podium felt different when he looked up at Max Verstappen holding the trophy he desperately craved. Charles felt a lot of things in that moment – disappointment, regret and even anger – at himself, the situation, the team and at the margin that kept him from winning.

“I could have won the title. Max will definitely win the next season too, as strong as Red Bull is. How will I ever live up to my reputation then?” He clenches his jaw. ”I feel like I'm stuck with what I'm doing now. And I'm doing my best, Andrea. I really am. But it's apparently not enough. Do you know how incredibly frustrating that is?”

Being second carries a unique weight – a strange middle ground between triumph and heartbreak. And hell, Charles heart broke with every race that put more distance between his and Max's points. He feels like a failure, like he failed his team, his family and friends. He failed his fans, that support him through every decision he makes on and off track, that defend him whenever he makes a mistake during races.

And it haunts him. What if he had pushed just a little harder, made one less mistake, reacted a second faster? What if he made a different decision that would've outweighed the mistakes his team made? What if he became world champion in the famous red car he worked so hard to get into? The famous red car that his dad loved so much?

Disappointing his dad was the worst part of it all. It was a different kind of pain, heavy and crushing. It's not just about failing at something – Charles feels like he simply isn't good enough. Like he let someone down who believed in him. He could have been champion this year – he was so close to standing on top of the podium. What if he never gets this close to winning? What if he never holds the big trophy in his hands, dedicating it to his dad, who always wanted to see him drive in the Ferrari?

Charles' anger has been building up for so long that he doesn't know where to put it. If only he had concentrated more on the season and hadn't been so distracted by his personal problems -

“And Annika. What a waste of time the whole thing was. I should never have gotten involved with her. I should have ended the relationship when I realized that she wasn't the one. When I realized that I couldn't give her the attention that a healthy relationship requires.”

Charles would never admit it, but Annika’s betrayal in their relationship cut deeper than expected. It’s not just about broken promises – it’s about broken trust, the foundation of any meaningful connection. It shook everything Charles believed to be true about Annika – or love in general.

The worst part wasn’t the act itself or that he caught them right in the act, but the realization that someone he trusted with his heart made the choice to hurt him. After the break-up he questioned everything – was any of it real? Was Annika lying to him the whole time? Even after everything, the wounds linger.

Some betrayals are survivable with time and effort, but others leave scars that never fully heal. They change people – it changed Charles. It hardened his heart, made love feel dangerous to him and made him create walls where there once was openness.

He guarded himself like a survival instinct. At first, it was solely for protection – he told himself that if he didn’t let anyone in, nobody could hurt him. The walls became his shield, keeping out disappointment, rejection, and the risk of being vulnerable again.

But over the course of the weeks, Charles noticed the walls he put up brick by brick didn’t just keep the pain out – they kept everything out. Love. Connection. The chance to feel something real. Hell, he didn’t even tell his Maman that he was back home in Monaco. He pushed his family away, his friends, acting cold and distant – not because he didn’t want love, but because he’s so scared of what happened when he let someone else in.

It took Charles some time to figure out the truth, that the walls didn’t keep him safe and sound – they kept him stuck. They stopped him from healing, from growing, from experiencing the things that make life meaningful. But he was so scared of breaking them down when it took him so long to put them up, that he didn’t know what to do when he met you.

It was terrifying, letting you in slowly and hesitantly. He’s spent so long guarding himself, convincing himself that no one except his close ones can be trusted, that it almost felt unnatural to let you in. At first, he resisted, kept his distance. But the fact that you didn’t even know who he was felt so good, made him feel safe to share his story with you and then – you stayed. You didn’t push too hard, but you didn’t walk away either.

Surely, this friendship has had it’s ups and downs, but this is what happenes when two people, who protected themselves so much that they become too careful, too hesitant to let someone in fully.

And instead of forcing your way through, you waited. You were there. You proved in small, consistent ways, that you’re not like the woman who made him built those walls in the first place.

And then, without realizing it, he stopped expecting the worst. He let you see his wounds, his fears, his past, and instead of running, you stayed. You stayed with him through awkward dinner conversations about his ex, you stayed with him when he didn’t correct his family about your relationship status, you stayed when he overstepped the boundaries of your friendship. Your gentle touch, your honest conversations while burning Annika’s things.

You stayed when he revealed to you who he really is. You see him – the real him – and don’t flinch at what you see. Little by little, cracks form in his defenses. He finds himself wanting to trust again, to love again, even though it scares him to death.

When you look at him, it feels like sunlight creeping through the cracks in the fortress he thought were unbreakable. It was unsettling at first after being in the dark for some time. But you didn’t break down his walls in a dramatic, earth-shattering way.

It was quiet. Subtle. It sneaked up to him in moments he didn’t even realize – they way you looked at him when he played your song on the piano in the bookshop, when you let him hold you while you cried like his arms were the safest place in the world, when you showed him that you want him for who he is.

But even though you broke down most of his walls, he still can’t admit that you’re all he needs.

He can’t let you in fully after what Annika did to him, he can’t let you touch him like he wants you to. He can’t let himself feel so much for you because what if those feelings he has for you – the feelings he swore he’d never harbour for anyone again – are not enough for you?

What if he gives you his all and you decide that it’s not enough? That he is not enough? He can’t tell you why he doesn’t want you to touch him, because what if you’ll see him differently? What if the things he wants, he needs, are different from what you want?

He feels like he isn’t good enough. The scars Annika left on him made him question his worth, his value, his ability to be loved. There are moments where he feels too far gone, too damaged, not strong enough to break free from the fear of losing you that he’d rather keep you at arms length hurting himself than push you away and out of his life.

He can’t let you touch him after Annika, because sex with her felt wrong, like he was broken because he wanted different things than her. Because he craved intimacy like his life depended on it, the safety that comes with it, but it always felt like he needed to deliver, even if he didn’t want to. It felt like a chore, no gentle touches or loving words, only demanding hands and lips and thighs and he swore to himself he’ll never let it happen again.

If you don’t touch him at all, there’s no chance you could hurt him like that.

He’d rather give you all he’s able to give instead of letting you return anything.

“I could have waited for…”

“Charles.” Andreas‘ voice is gentle and soothing, in contrast to Charles’. When the man from Monaco looks at his friend, he smiles at him. ”We're here.”

The wind howls at the summit, biting and cold, but it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t feel it. He can’t feel anything except the weight that presses down on his chest. He stands there on top oft he world – and all the space in the world couldn’t quiet the chaos inside him.

Andrea chose this route to help Charles clear his head, the mountain was supposed to be his escape, his victory. He climbed every inch of it, each slide of his skis pushing him further from the mess he feels inside. The view from the top is actually breathtaking: endless stretches of jagged peaks, skies that feel closer than ever. He should feel something – pride, accomplishment, freedom. But instead, there’s only the overwhelming silence that gnawed at him.

For a moment, everything is still. He pulls his beanie and glasses from his head, closing his eyes and trying to ground himself in the beauty around him, but the images, the memories, everything – it all comes flooding back. The things he can’t outrun. The words that had been sad. The choices that had left him fractured and alone.

A sob caught in his throat, sharp and unexpected and he falls to his knees in the white snow at his feet. The tries to fight it, but the tears come anyway – slow at first, then faster and harder. They burn against the cold wind, mixing with the salt of the sweat on his skin – and he can’t stop them.

They stand for everything he hasn’t been able to say, everything he has be scared to face. He thought he could bury it, hide it behind the walls he built, behind the distance from it all.

His hand tremble on his thighs, his chest tightening with every broken breath. His vision blurred, the edges oft he mountain fading into the background. It doesn’t matter that he’s at the top – he feels smaller than ever. The tears slip down his cheeks like a rush of a river too long dammed.

„I’m not enough“, he whispered almost unaudibly. A confession only the mountains and his friend could hear. „I’m never going to be enough.“

The world stretched out before him, magnificent and indifferent, and in that moment, he realized that being on top oft he mountain didn’t mean escaping it all. He had climbed all this way, but he couldn’t outrun himself. The hurt, the mistakes, the weight of everything he’d buried deep inside.

He doesnt flinch when he feels Andrea’s hand on his shoulder, gently squeezing and reassuring him that whatever he feels right now is okay. That the tears that fall down onto the snow have their right to exist after being bottled up for so long.

The sobs faded, leaving him gasping for air in the stillness of the summit. He wiped his face, trying to wipe away the brokennes, but it lingered in his chest. His hands still trembling from the release, from the rawness that had bubbled to the surface. For a long moment, he just sits there, the wind biting at him, the emptiness inside him as a vast as the world stretched out before him.

And then it hit him, like a sudden punch that knocked the breath from his lungs.

You.

Your laugh. Your smile. The way you always seem to know what he’s thinking, the way you care in the quietest ways – how you’ve been there for him, even when he pushed you away. How, despite everything, you stayed.

He tried so hard to tell himself that he’s better off alone, that he doesn’t need anyone else to fill the empty spaces inside him. He thought he could bury his feelings, run from the truth. He has told himself that love was something to fear, something that could trap him, break him, leave him just as broken as he’d been before.

But now, sitting on top of the world, it all makes sense.

He loves you. He always has. He can feel it in every part of him, the truth that has been there all along, buried under layers of fear and pride. It’s not something he can outrun, not anymore. He can’t ignore the way his heart always beats faster when you’re near, the way everything seems to fall into place when you smile at him, the way your presence has been the one thing that feels like home.

The moment of realization hits him like a wave, sudden and overwhelming. It’s undeniable.

He loves you.

Not in the casual, passing way he once tried to convice himself was enough for his relationship with Annika, but in a deeper, truer sense. It’s always been you – only you. Right from the start when the both of you stood in the small apartment.

But the weight o fit, the sheer force of that truth, felt like it could crush him, especially when he realizes how long he’s been running from it.

His heart races, pounding hard in his chest, but it isn’t the kind of excitement he thought would come with such a revelation. Instead, it is quiet terror. The terror of feeling too much. Of feeling anything at all.

His breath comes in shallow gasps as the cold mountain air cuts through him. It isn’t the altitude or the wind that chills him – it’s the fear of being too vulnerable again. Of letting anyone close enough to hurt him. The thought of telling you, of exposing his raw, vulnerable part of himself, feels like standing on the edge of a cliff with no way to climb back down.

He stares out over the vast horizon, the world stretching out endlessly beneath him, and for a moment, he considers it. The possibility of going back, of telling you everything he has just realized. But the thought of your eyes on him, the weight of the words, the vulnerability—it‘s too much. Too raw. Too dangerous.

So, he stays silent. He stays with the truth, buried deep inside of him. The love he feels for you is now his secret, locked away like a fragile thing, too delicate to share. He can‘t find the courage to let it out—not now, not after everything that had happened.

But there is something about knowing, about feeling it — just knowing that he can love again — that makes the world feel a little less heavy. It isn’t perfect, and it doesn‘t fix everything, but it is enough. For the first time in a long time, he doesn‘t feel so broken. He isn’t empty. He is filled with something — something soft, something he thought was gone forever.

Maybe he isn’t ready to tell you. Maybe he will never be ready. But the knowledge that love still exists in him — that it can still find him, even after everything — is enough to hold onto for now. It isn’t a victory, not in the way he wants, but it is a beginning. And in that, there is a quiet peace. A peace that, despite all the fear and hesitation, he coul still feel, still hope.

And that, for the moment, is enough.

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copper-16 · 1 day ago

Text

Reminds Me That There's A Room To Grow Part 2

A love unraveled and yet incomparable. Where are two people to go from here?

(a/n: Here is part 2! I am so glad everyone is enjoying this so far, I've had a lot of fun writing it and getting to be creative! I’ll see everyone next Monday for installment 3 - can’t wait to hear everyone’s thoughts!)

Alexia wasn’t sure exactly what she had expected when she barged into her Mami's house the morning after seeing you at the event, dragging Alba behind her.

But it definitely wasn’t this.

She had explained everything to the two of them, with a carefully constructed amount of excitement. The footballer didn’t want to seem overeager, but she also found elation building within herself the more she thought about what had occurred.

She had never expected to see you again, but there you were. Not only that, you weren’t with anyone. You still had the capacity to love her. There was a chance that Alexia hadn’t lost you, and she held onto that hope like a fire lit deep within her chest. She was almost delirious with relief at the realization that maybe the last nine years hadn’t been a total waste, that maybe she had just been waiting for you to return. It threatened to consume her, and she felt as though nothing could break the jouissance that filled her.

At least, that was what she thought, until Eli and Alba brought her back to reality with their contradicting opinions.

“She’s here you guys, she’s here in Barcelona. After all these years, Flori is still here and she wants to see me,” Alexia told her family, a brightness in her eyes that hadn’t been present in years. Despite this, Eli and Alba both had a frown on their face as they glanced at each other with skepticism. There was an awkward pause before Alba finally turned toward her sister with a charged look.

“Ale,” Alba started lightly, trying not to sound too negative. “It has been nine years. Is it possible that Flori has moved on? She was the one who stayed behind, after all.”

Her younger sister's words were pointed if not entirely incorrect.

“Do you even know what happened? You never got an answer from her, and now she has shown up at this event with absolutely no warning,” Eli continued, a point that Alba quickly found herself agreeing with.

When they had all left Madrid, Eli and Alba never expected to lose you so suddenly.

Where Alexia was upset, they were angry. Angry that you had hurt Alexia for no logical reason, angry that you had done it when Alexia was at her most vulnerable, angry that you were no longer there. They had trusted you with Alexia’s heart, and you had betrayed them. Forgiveness was not possible in their eyes, not after what had occurred.

Eli missed your mother, who had grown to become a dear friend. Alba had lost your younger brothers, Adan and Leo, who she had been close with. The breakup had been a clean break in the literal sense, but emotionally it had been so much more complex than that. There was nothing but frustrating feelings and a wretched sense of loss for all of them. Where Alexia had softened over time, becoming more sympathetic, the rest of her family had hardened in their negative feelings toward you.

It was valiant if not feeble that the footballer tried to argue on your behalf.

“She is here now, and time has passed. Why would I not at least give her the chance to atone or explain herself?” Alexia argued as she furrowed her brows. She looked between her sister and Mami, feeling disheartened by their reaction.

“She gave up that right years ago Ale, when she let you leave in the midst of Papi dying and you moving to go to your dream club. She let you go, she never reached out, she never explained herself. Does that not bother you?” Alba pressed, unyielding in her temperament.

“It has been a decade practically, and she never tried. She let you go, ripped up your heart into pieces, and walked out of that door with no remorse. We were all hurt by it, but you should be the most betrayed! She was supposed to love you, and she left you instead. Don’t tell me that hasn’t been the thing that stuck out to you the most in the past nine years?” Alba continued as her words lashed out like a whip, threatening to send Alexia’s sense of stability and hope crashing to the ground.

“I have a chance to be happy, and you want me to give it away! Does that not bother you?” Alexia spat back as her defensiveness mounted. She stared her sister down with an intensity that usually was only found when she was playing football, not speaking to a member of her family.

“No, what you have is a chance to be hurt again, and based on past events, that is exactly what is going to happen Alexia. Don’t be stupid,” Alba shot back, and Eli quickly placed a hand on her younger daughter's arm to stop her.

The room came to a hard stop, but the brunette’s heart beat too fast in her chest to notice.

Had she made a mistake in trying to be forgiving toward you?

What if her family had a point?

“Alba is critical but what she says is in your best interest Alexia. Regardless of how you felt about your relationship, Flori hurt you irreparably. Are you sure you want to let her in again? Is that a risk you want to take?” Eli inquired gently, her voice much softer than the loud argument of her daughters. Alexia took a deep breath, forcing herself to be calm outwardly even if she felt anything but on the inside.

You had hurt her a lot. And they said it was irreparable, but the brunette was beginning to wonder if only you could be the one to soothe the ache. It had been nine years, and she had never once come close to feeling the same way about anyone else as you.

But you had hurt her.

Her mother and sister were not wrong in their basis of judgment. Alexia was beginning to wonder if she had been too naive, too focused on not looking a gift horse in the mouth to see the points her family had laid out.

The Catalan wondered if you would explain yourself fully to her if asked. She hoped dearly that the answer would be yes, but maybe she didn’t know you as well as she thought she did.

Maybe it was stupid to trust you after all these years. As much as Alexia had wanted to be mad about everything, she could never bring herself to fault you for what happened when you were both eighteen years old. She had always just assumed that the reason had to be big for you to make the choice you had.

But maybe it wasn’t like that at all. Maybe she had just been too trusting, too loving.

“I…I’ve spent the last nine years thinking about her, loving her, whether I wanted to or not. I know you aren’t as trusting as I am, and maybe I shouldn’t be so hopeful. But I at least want to know what happened to us that led to her making the decision she did. I need that, at the very least,” Alexia decided as her mother and sister nodded wearily.

Alexia had always taken the blame for what had happened, even if it had been a subconscious realization. She had simply assumed that whatever it was had been her fault. The brunette must have done something for you to make such a drastic choice not to be with her after so long together.

Eli and Alba’s arguments rang in her head, creating a commotion in her mind of conflicting information. Perhaps it wasn’t her fault, but rather something on your end.

She wasn’t sure now.

All that the footballer knew was that by the time she left her Mami’s house, she felt a lot more lost than she had last night. Lost, confused, and drained of any excitement that had been present just an hour previously.

—

You had woken up the morning after the event in a trance, unable to place your own feelings.

Had last night really happened?

Your dress was still on the hanger, just as you had placed it last night. The ghosting of mascara under your eyes left proof of your makeup, proof of the tears you had shed on the walk home.

All of these years later, and there she was. Somehow just as perfect and illustrious as you had remembered her to be. Nine years on and she remained unchanged, unyielding despite her newfound fame.

You had changed a lot in those nine years. And truth be told, you thought often of the footballer, though you tried impossibly hard not to. After all, it had been you who had left. It had been your own choice to sever everything the two of you had.

You had your reasons, sure, but it had still been you. The choice for you to make decisions in your relationship with Alexia had been revoked in that instance, and you forced yourself to try and forget all that you had lost.

To try and forget the feeling of being held in her arms. To forget the way she curled around you as you slept, or crawled into your lap to take a nap after a long day of training. To forget how much you two laughed together, how exceedingly happy she had made you.

You had lost all of that, and there was nothing that changed that fact.

It was ostensibly clear why you had moved to Barcelona five years ago, even if you vehemently denied that the move was because of the Catalan you once called home. But her dream had been yours as well, and even if you were later, you still had to come.

You found yourself in the stands of her games often, tucked in the back with a hat pulled over your head, avoiding her gaze and that of her family as well. You probably shouldn’t have been there, but you had turned into quite the masochist in the wake of losing her.

She looked free on the field, exactly as you remembered her. Focused, ardent, driven, mirthful, intelligent, protective.

Everything you had loved and lost.

It’s not that there hadn’t been opportunities to see her again, especially when you had first moved and you both were young. But you never took them, knowing that it wasn’t your right. Alexia was happy, and you would never interrupt her peace for your own yearning.

After last night though…you weren’t sure if the word you would describe her as was peaceful. It was possible you were reading too much into things, but there was an air of longing present in the brunette that confused you more than you expected.

You wondered if she would call you, but you had no way of knowing.

It needed to be that way. This needed to be her choice, her decision. You had been the one to take it away, and you gave it back to her almost a decade later.

There was hope in your body, a nascent festering that took root no matter how hard you attempted to stop it in its tracks. But at the end of the day, you would gladly give back to her the right to choose in favor of everything you dreamed and desired.

You would make peace with whatever decision that was, no matter the cost to your own happiness.

—

“You–I’m sorry, you what?” Jenni blurted out as she glimpsed over at Mariona, who found herself just as confused and taken aback by what the brunette had just described.

Alexia leaned back in her chair as she let out a forced breath. Her participation in this lunch was more compulsory than anything else after an entire practice of her “acting weird,” according to the striker.

Mariona had been dragged along for a second opinion, though the midfielder had found herself growing more and more curious as Jenni’s pestering turned into real answers from the brunette. The raven-haired woman, while annoying at times, had been friends with Alexia for long enough to know when she needed a bit of a push to talk.

For Alexia to admit that the reason she was bothered was because she had a long lost childhood lover was not exactly what Jenni was expecting. But the striker was nothing if not able to work with what she was given.

“Let me get this straight,” the older woman began as she leaned forward against the table. “You met when you guys were like five, grew up together, started dating when you were teenagers, then were supposed to move here together, but she broke things off suddenly right before you left and you haven’t seen her since?”

“That is correct,” Alexia conceded warily, well aware of how slightly ridiculous it seemed as a story.

“And all of these years, you haven’t stopped thinking about her? A decade later and you’re still hung up on her?” Jenni asked incredulously, her voice nearly an octave higher than it usually was. She seemed to be out of her mind at the thought, and the brunette slunk down further into her chair, feeling overly barren.

“You hook up with women like there is a prize for who gets the highest body count,” Alexia shot back, trying to come off as more annoyed than exposed.

Mariona looked miffed at the vulgarity of the statement while Jenni shrugged, acquiescence in her expression.

“Low blow Alexia,” the midfielder noted briefly, but the striker waved her off easily.

“The woman isn’t entirely wrong, but more importantly she’s deflecting. Okay, so you’re still in love with the woman. And it just so happens that she’s randomly at the Spotify event they sent you to, and she’s still in love with you as well?”

“Well not quite but…” Alexia started to disagree before she trailed off, her friends eyeing her with unconvinced expressions.

“Yes, fine, sure,” she amended crossly.

“She just happened to be at the same event? What does she do for work?” Mariona raised her eyebrow, suspicious of a coincidence that large. Alexia paused for a moment as she struggled to think of an answer. All she was drawing was a big blank, and the realization that maybe she should have been more suspicious about this whole thing.

“I…I have no idea. I didn’t ask! She was just right in front of me, and I panicked, I didn’t know what to do!” Alexia said restlessly, the amount of fidgeting in her seat a clear indication of her nervousness.

“Wow…she made the great Alexia Putellas panic? I’ve seen you send away more girls than a persnickety Playboy photographer.”

“Jennifer!”

“Sorry, sorry! Anywho, you panicked, and then what happened?” Jenni amended, a saccharine smile plastered on her face. The raven-haired woman was absolutely devouring this, fighting valiantly not to smile like the cheshire cat.

“And then we went on a walk and talked for a few minutes, she gave me her number and told me to call her, and she left,” Alexia finished lamely, sinking back into her seat. She surveyed her two friends, who only looked at her with interested expressions.

“Okay…and what are you going to do?” Mariona inquired once she realized that Alexia wasn’t going to say anything more.

“I don’t know what to do! My family thinks that I shouldn’t call her, that she has hurt me too much. That maybe she doesn’t deserve to be in my life anymore. What do you guys think I should do?” Alexia.

“Listen, it seems to be a weird coincidence to me personally. All of the sudden you start to get famous and she just happens to pop up? That is a little weird to me. It sounds like this person hurt you deeply Ale, and it has stuck with you. Are you sure you want to rehash everything?” Mariona pressed, her words strict and condemning.

“I’m not sure if I do. I’ve spent the last decade thinking of her, and then suddenly she was there and I just…I didn’t know what to do with myself. I never imagined her being in my life again, and there she was! I spent my whole childhood loving her. I never saw myself with anyone else,” Alexia admitted quietly as she wrung her hands together for a moment before setting them down in her lap, unable to make her own mind up.

The vast majority of Alexia’s teammates had never heard of you at all. Jenni was a little too old, Mariona a little too young. Those who had known of you had forgotten, easily deterred by Alexia telling them you had broken up, unrealizing of how much it meant for the midfielder to lose you.

Mariona had begun to speak again, but the striker had tuned the two of them out, thinking quietly to herself for once.

As much as she teased, Jenni watched her friend with a keen, knowing eye. There had to be a damn good reason for Alexia to turn away all of those girls. It wasn’t just their looks, some of them were lovely and intelligent and hilarious, and still the star midfielder had absolutely no interest in them whatsoever.

Almost as if she was waiting for something else.

Someone else.

All these years there had been something missing in her, as though she looked for someone who never came through the door. Jenni had never known what was wrong enough to ask, but now she was beginning to piece together the importance of you to Alexia. Where everyone else saw reasons to criticize and judge, the striker was stuck on Alexia’s words.

How the desire and longing seemed unable to be contained and reasoned with, despite all of the evidence to the contrary.

“What do you want?” Jenni cut both of them off suddenly, eliciting a frustrated noise from Mariona and a surprised look from the brunette.

“I don’t know what I want!” Alexia huffed out with frustration, but the raven-haired didn’t accept that quite so easily. There were too many hands in the pot here. Alexia had always known what she wanted to do, she was simply being deterred.

“No, you do. You’re convoluted with everyone else’s opinions, but I think you know exactly what you want. What is it that you want Alexia?” Jenni’s eyes never wavered from Alexias, as if daring her to look away.

She knew that the Catalan wouldn’t, and she was right.

Alexia stared right at her friend, knowing exactly what choice she needed to make for herself. Not for anyone else, but for herself.

At the very least, she needed to know what had happened to lose you the first time.

—

Alexia told herself she would call you in a few days, giving herself some time to cool off and think things through.

She couldn’t even make it through a few hours before she was digging up the card you had given her and typing the number into her phone. The phone rang once, twice, three times before you picked up, and despite herself the Catalan let out a sigh of relief that you had picked up at all.

“Hello?” You said dutifully as you held your ear to the phone, unaware of who was on the end of the line. There was silence for a long moment, long enough that you questioned if anyone was even there, before sound finally came through.

“Hi,” Alexia choked out, failing to keep her voice as calm and unbothered as she had told herself she would be.

“Hi Alexia,” you replied, fighting to seem as unphased as possible. You were shocked she had called you, and your heart beat so rapidly in your chest it felt as though it was fluttering.

“I know it’s sudden…but can you talk tonight?” The footballer blurted out after a few seconds. Your heart constricted with panic, but you swallowed it down and forced yourself to remain agreeable and steady.

“Absolutely. What time and where should I meet you?” You questioned as you took a deep, bracing breath. You listened as Alexia rattled off an address and the two of you agreed to meet in an hour before she hung up.

This might be your last chance to tell her the truth. Would it be worth it though? Was the possibility of creating an ache in her chest worth revealing what had really occurred?

You knew her, and you knew that her guilt would be immense even if the situation was completely out of her control. You made the choice for her, knowing that it was the right one. But you were unsure if she would see it that way. Perhaps she would only see the hurt you had caused her unnecessarily, and that would be the end of it. Maybe that should just be the end of it, allowing her some answers while allowing her to move forward with her life.

It had been nearly a decade. You had been without her nearly as long as you had been with her, and a piece of you knew that the ache would never disappear. You would always yearn for her, even if she decided to move on.

But that was a right she had earned, and you had lost.

It had been your own fault after all, that turned you two into this unsure, bumbling mess of emotions and challenges and strife. You would have done anything to change that if you could have.

It was your fault but not your doing, at the end of the day.

You arrived at the beach where Alexia told you to meet her a little early, which allowed you to sit down at a bench and look out at the ocean waves that poured in and out. You granted yourself that small moment of grace on the nearly empty beach as you slipped your sandals off and felt the lingering warmth of the sand under your feet as the sun slid behind the ocean.

You didn’t notice Alexia’s approach until she was in front of you, and though you offered her the seat next to you silently, she didn’t take it.

It should have been this that informed you that it would go downhill from there, but you clung to the hope that maybe this would be a productive conversation. You still didn’t know what to say exactly, but you knew you were not going to be dishonest.

Alexia’s eyes examined you critically, as if she didn’t believe that it was really you.

“How did you end up at the event the other day in the first place?” She inquired after a moment, and you can’t help but furrow your brows in confusion, lost as to why this was the first question she asked. Lost as to where all of this hostility came from, when you had yet to say a single thing.

You had expected her to become angered as the conversation went on, but she already seemed cross and you had yet to say a word.

“I work for Morgan Stanley doing investment consulting and management specifically with Spotify. I’ve become close with the people at the company as I work with them most days, and they invited me to the event. There were investors and important stakeholders that I was able to meet in person. I’ve come to the same event every year for the last three years,” you disclosed to the brunette, but the skepticism and hostility in her eyes never wavered despite your clarity.

“Did you see me before we ran into each other?” She interrogated, and you settled into your seat uneasily. This felt less like a conversation and more like she was drilling you, waiting for you to slip up and say the wrong thing.

“At the event, or in general?” You replied, wanting nothing but honesty in your responses. You could give her that, even if the air between you two was charged with more tension than you expected.

“Both.” Alexia crossed her arms, everything in her posture defensive and frustrated.

“At the event, no. I didn’t know until I was standing right in front of you,” you clarified, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear to avoid fidgeting nervously. “In general, yes I had seen you. Only from afar though, at your games over the years. I never would have approached you.”

I never would have approached you.

Alexia felt every defense in her mind light up at that statement. When had you decided you were so utterly done with having her in your life? All the Catalan could think of was her mother and sister warning her that this was going to be a mistake. All she could think of was Mariona who talked about how strange the coincidence was that the two of you had run into her, as though it was so suspicious.

You had left and hurt her.

It had been your fault, that is what all the evidence seemed to tell her.

Something pulled at the brunette’s mind though, something that begged her not to be so bellicose. Something that screamed at her that there was more to the story, and that handling everything this way was a horrible idea.

Fear seemed to rule her though, rearing an ugly head that the midfielder was not proud of.

“How many years,” she beseeched, fighting the wave of tears she could feel stinging at the back of her eyes. Her voice was low, wavering in a way that betrayed her emotions more than she cared to admit. You had let out a low sigh as you hung your head.

“Five years. I’ve been in Barcelona for five years, and I’ve been coming to your games on and off for five years” you finally confessed as you shook your head. You looked up at the Catalan, who seemed caught between devastation and outrage.

“You moved here five years ago and didn’t even think to come and talk to me? You never thought to check on me, to try and reach out?” Alexia seethed, burying her hurt behind a mask of fury. More than anything, the footballer felt like her whole chest had caved in.

“No I didn’t. I had broken up with you Alexia, that was the choice I made. I wasn’t going to come barging back in four years later and demand that you take me back,” You tried gallantly to remain calm, even in the face of Alexia’s vexation. The brunette hated your answer, throwing her hands up in acute frustration.

“You never even bothered to ask! You might have taken away my choice once, but you’ve spent five more years taking that choice away. You are a coward,” Alexia accused, pointing a finger at you even as everything in her screamed not to. She would regret what she said in the light of day, but all she felt right now was wounded. There was an intense urge to protect what little pride still remained inside her, and apparently in order to accomplish that she needed to lash out.

You met her toe for toe though, not giving her the anger she wanted exactly but rather a sense of indignation.

“I am a coward Alexia, you’re right. I wanted you to live your life, to move on, and I made the choice I thought was best for everyone at the time, including you. Don’t stand here and act like I made the choice without consideration for your feelings, because I have,” you fought, because even if you were at fault, you had tried so hard not to be selfish. If the Catalan got a single thing out of this conversation, you wanted it to be that.

“No you haven’t, you’ve been selfish for the last decade! I lost my father, my community, and then you all in the span of one month. You disappeared, just like that. You were like a ghost, and I was on my own, and right when I needed you, you weren’t there!” She practically yelled, and it looked almost like her entire body vibrated with resentment.

The footballer took a deep breath as she both tried and failed to remain calm. But every time she had more than a second to think, anger and vitriol seemed to flow out of her.

“I hate myself for how much I needed you all these years, how much I longed for you. I can’t believe I didn’t see what was going on right in front of me. And now you’re back here…for what? A celebrity status? To be a WAG? I don’t have time for that, and I don’t want you anymore if you see me as such a transactional person. I don’t even recognize you anymore,” Alexia explained with an air of indignance.

Though you had tried to remain calm, something finally snapped inside of you at that. You simply couldn’t allow for the brunette to say such things about you, and finally you allowed yourself the candor you’d held in all these years.

“Oh for God's sake Alexia, really? I haven’t come here to be your WAG, or for your fucking money! I’m in investment banking for Christ's sake, I am fine financially! I don’t like football, but I spent my childhood going to games because you loved it and I loved you! You think it didn’t kill me to let you leave like that?”

“You were my forever. We were young but you were the love of my life, and even now I can’t find myself ever connecting with anyone the way I did with you. I know I am older now, but I still have the same heart as I did when I was eighteen. You loved that person, and I’m not saying you need to love me anymore, but do not stand here and act like I have changed into someone unrecognizable when I have not!” You articulated, unwilling to allow yourself to be trodden over with disrespect.

You were not the same person as you were at eighteen, but you were also not the person Alexia had made you out to be.

The fight seemed to drain out of your body in an instance. Any hope that had been clung to was lost entirely as you decided just to be honest. You knew the brunette didn’t want anything to do with you, and in that moment you made peace with that.

You would give her the truth, and nothing else but the truth. When you looked up at the Catalan, there were tears shining in your eyes.

“I was sick, Alexia. I found out two days before I broke up with you that I had breast cancer, and I needed to stay in Madrid for treatment. You had just lost your father, you were moving to a whole new area of the country. You didn’t need to be worried about your sick girlfriend, trying to travel back and forth to Madrid, to have even more on your plate,” you revealed slowly as you aggressively wiped away the tears that flowed down your cheeks.

Oh.

“So yes, I made a decision for you. In all honesty, it was a decision I would happily make again and again if it came down to it. I wanted to preserve what little peace and happiness you had left before the move. I ached for you afterward, but I knew that this was the right choice. I wanted you to live your dreams, with or without me. And by the time I finished treatment and came to Barcelona, I felt that it was too late. I had broken us, it was my fault entirely that we had broken up, and I didn’t feel like I had the right to come to you and explain.”

“So no, I haven't approached you for the last five years. I come to your games and I see you play with joy and happiness, and I see you with your family, and I want to leave you with that. So don’t look at me and call me a coward or a gold digger or whatever the hell you think I am, because at the end of the day I tried to make the best choices for you and me, and I can’t take them back anymore,” you released, and suddenly you felt much older than your twenty-seven years. You head hung, and you shrugged before you spoke again, your tone bitter and defeated.

“If you’re so intent to see all of the reasons I fucked up, fine. If you need to tell yourself that I am a selfish whore to sleep at night, fine. But I sincerely hope that when you go to sleep at night you at least remember for a second that the decisions I made were for you, not because of you. Maybe it was the wrong choice to control that for you, but I can’t go back and change it now. So please, just leave me alone if this is all you want from me. I don’t have anything more to give you, not anymore,” You stated with exhaustion, spinning around to walk away. You disappeared into the night before the brunette even had a chance to say anything, left far too shell shocked to even begin to process your words.

You were gone without a glance backward, and Alexia sunk down onto the bench you had once occupied as remorse purged every other feeling in her body.

#alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #woso #barcelona femeni #jenni hermoso #mariona caldentey #woso fanfics #woso x reader #fc barcelona femeni

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bunny-jpeg · 2 days ago

Note

hiii first I would like to say that I LOVE your writing and I was wondering if you could do smth with Lando. This is quite a long order so you can pick and chose what you would like.

dark hot chocolate

milkshake

a vodka shot

spicy upside down cake

crème caramel

hot cross buns

bakery menu

thank you so much for the order! i've been really getting back into doing these bakery orders, so it's been fun working through the requests i've gotten! i always love doing a good lando fic, the fans i get in my inbox always have some of the most creative prompts i've ever seen so thank you! i hope you love this!

spicy upside down cake: "let's play a game: don't get caught." + crème caramel: "oh. you thought you were getting away from me?" + hot cross buns: "don't hide your face from me. i'd hate to have to tie you up." + dark hot chocolate: sub!reader + milkshake: size kink + a vodka shot: rough sex served by lando norris (formula one)!!

tags: smut/pwp, rough sex, size kink, sub!reader, semi-public sex, brattiness, dirty talk & degrading language, filthy (!!)

lando norris loved a good brat. he loved when a girl thought she could snap at him. it was cute, and it got him hard. cute things with pouty lips and fluttering eyelashes, crossed arms that framed perfect, fat tits. drew him in and made his jeans tight.

nothing like fucking a brat back into submission.

so after being put through the ringer in silverstone, lando couldn't help himself. especially when you said his favourite word in a venomous tone, "no."

you ended up in his driver's room with his hands up the back of your t-shirt and he near slammed the door with his foot. he was moving you like a puppet. you weren't going anywhere too far, too fast. he kissed the nape of your neck and loved the feeling of his hands on your soft skin.

"oh. you thought you were getting away from me?" he teased as he rubbed the front of his jeans up against your behind, "tell me no and then expect to skitter off. you wouldn't get far and you know that. should've chased you through the garage and fucked that pretty pussy of yours over my car. rub those tits of your raw up against it." he was panting already, turned on by how deep his want was for you.

"lando." you whined and you ended up over the couch. your cheek almost pressed against the wall behind it. your knees on the cushion and your round behind on display for him. you crumbled so easily, it was cute.

lando licked his lips and admired you. the shape of you, the feel of you, how hot your skin got when you were turned on. made his cock throb in his jeans. he didn't take him the victory this weekend, but he was going to take your pussy. which was almost as good as a trophy.

"get undressed or else you'll be leaving for the car in a lot less clothes." he remarked, "but i'd be you love that, huh? bare tits out across the paddock, covered in my bite marks. because you're just a little slut aren't you?"he noticed you covering your face with your hands, "don't hide your face from me. i'd hate to have to tie you up." he then grabbed your roughly and got your ass on the cushion your legs spread open as you forced yourself to hold onto the couch.

you looked beautiful.

"strip or it becomes shreds." lando said as he grasped his cock through his jeans, "and don't hide your face, got it?" he was dominating, putting you in your place. and it made you heavily aroused. and he knew it. he knew that you were a sick puppy that way.

you quickly got out of all of your clothes, you were left naked. lando preferred when you were naked, even in cases where you could be easily caught. he was certain that if someone caught sight of your bare tits while you rode him, you'd cum on the spot. dirty girl.

lando kept most of his clothes on, didn't need his round ass to be on the cover of most major sports papers tomorrow. he crowded in your space and braced his hands over the top of the couch, on either side of your head. he watched you swallow and he grinned like a wolf. "pretty little thing." he said, "see, things are much easier when you drop the bratty-act."

"i thought you loved a challenge." you remarked as you looked at him with a cute little wink. it only pulled lando in and he stroked his cock at the sight of your cute figure. you really were something else. naked on the couch, your breasts and cunt on full display for him. and yet, you remain defiant.

"i do, but i also love girls who know when to shut up and take it." he sank his cock into you. you let out a sweet moan and he chuckled lowly, "let's play a game: don't get caught. think you can do that? keep that whore mouth quiet while i fuck you?" he pushed to the base and shakily exhaled. he felt a stir in his gut while he admired you.

you felt hot all over a she started to move against you. your body didn't feel like your own, you were under lando's spell as he fucked you. you tensed up around him as you kept your legs open for him. there was something that ran hot through you. it wasn't fair, he made you a panting dog for him.

"a real bitch in heat, huh?" he chuckled lowly as he continued to move against you. he pressed into you harder, "pretty eye though, gotta keep them interested somehow. or else they'll hit and leave." he continued to move against you. his thrusts made you see stars. who allowed for him to be this hot. this painfully good at making you moan.

you let out a whine and he gave you a firm pat on the cheek, he'd never harm you. he'd just make his presence known, after all he was your boyfriend, your love, your dominant in your life. he was rough, but not abusive. he made you squirm and enjoyed the feeling of you under him. on the stupid couch they gave him, fucking tomorrow out of you.

there was something about him. the way he carried himself, the way he moved through your space. he wasn't like others, he was like no man you had been with before. he made you pant. whine and more of all, cum at the feeling of his cock inside of you. he could work with what he had and it often made you moaning with heated pleasure.

he looked at you, he kept his eyes on you as he fucked up into you. he held onto the couch while he thrusted up into you. he kept his expressions under control while your face displayed all the feelings of pleasure he was giving you. he loved how you looked, he made you feel heaven, why not enjoy it too?

"please, lando. fuck, i love you."

"and i love you, baby. look at you, you take my cock like a champ. can you believe it? i guess you put your money where your mouth is, silly little slut." he licked his lips as he continued to move against you. his thrusts were heavy and they left a certain cloudiness in his brain as he fucked the daylights out of you. you were a slut for him and he loved that, he loved that he could bend, twist and fuck you however he saw fit. it was a good feeling in his soul as he rutted against you.

he knew that you loved him, you loved him as deep as veins ran deep in the body. he knew you were needy for him, you yearned for his heavy cock inside of you. his breathing was heavy in your ear as eh moved against you, the feel was overwhelming and you tried so hard to keep quiet. you didn't want to be the front page tomorrow because your boyfriend decided to fuck you until you saw stars.

"that's it, baby." he said as he thrusted up into you, "you feel amazing. all mine, who let you feel this good. you got a pussy most would die for." his pace continued, "i need you beautiful, always in my heart as i ruin your fucking pussy." his words were heated as he fucked you. there was little time for tenderness as he ravaged you.

you kept your tone quiet as you held onto him, letting him fuck your sweet cunt. it was hard to keep quiet with the pace so quick and so erotic that it left your core quivering for him. you knew you weren't going to last much longer.

"gonna behave for me now, be a good girl for me?" he asked as he held your throat. he didn't choke you, he held you so you'd keep your eyes on him. as he continued to rut against you, the feeling was hot, the weight of his hand against you as he made your core flutter around him.

you nodded dumbly, not much else to say as he fucked you with a heated want. you reached out for him and clung to his t-shirt while you climaxed around his cock. you squeezed around him, eyes shut and held onto him tightly. he continued to fuck you, he fucked you through you orgasm and only grinned at the blissed out expression you had. you looked like a total dream, even in the heat of climax. he kissed your neck and fucked you roughly.

he was in total control and he felt the fire in his core as he moved against you. your wetness stained the front of his jeans, which only spurred him on to make you a panting, whiny mess. he eventually shut you up with a heated kiss and kept you pinned to the couch by your shoulders.

he was going to fuck the brattiness out of you, and with a few more heavy strokes of his hips he finished inside of you. he watched your eyes flutter close for a moment before you loosely held onto him. it was erotic to see you in a state of total bliss as he came. you two fit together beautifully and lando couldn't help but kiss your neck as he moved against you slower and let himself feel your entire body.

hands trailed across your sides before he held you hips tightly and pulled out of your cunt. he looked at you and exhaled deeply against your neck, "beautiful." he said with much more tenderness.

he looked at his soft cock and then to you. he then asked as he admired your messy expression. you were all blissed out from him. he patted your thigh and said, "now be a good girl and get dressed. you can louder in the hotel." <3

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beatlblog · 13 hours ago

Text

i hope john bullied him (via @themagicalmysticalboy)

“Oi Paulie... wha’s on yer fookin face then?”#I hope John made fun of him#god#wtf (via @starseeker95)

#HELP#paul god what was that phase (via @mrlennonmccartney)

#if john still wanted him while paul looked like that it was true love#john's taste was so varied and dubious that i don't put it past him at all#but what a downgrade bc john looked great (via @stewy)

#hot take: this is the reason john decided not to work with paul after all#'if your music sounds anything like how your mustache looks i want no part of it' (via @paulnnccartney)

Knowing john he was like never mind my love you look so cute😍🙈😂 (via @mclennongirl15)

#i cannot imagine what was going through johns head when he saw him looking like that (via @harrisonism)

#imagine this outfit being the reason the beatles never got back together#john was like i'm gonna need about 6 years to forgive you for this 😂 (via @whoscruffylooking)

It’s okay because that look is 💯 on my wife.#I love that horrible facial hair#that first time drag king look (via @winston-legthigh)

#I feel like this is how John expected fashion disaster Paul to shown up#imagine just looking hot and hanging out by a pool#that’s them! (via @asphalt-cocktail)

#I respect it tho (via @lennons)

#john was just like ‘finally the inverse of all those years where I was pining and you looked amazing’#it’s just such a bad look#what WAS he thinking#definitely not what he needed to be which was ‘I look a complete twat’ (via @drivenalphabitchpaulmccartney)

2022

#the cunt paul is serving is like#fancy health food store cunt#but it's been expired for 3 years#it smells like fridge and patchouli and b vitamins and weed#john however is immaculate#god literally invented high waisted flares just for him#john and paul#my boygirlfriend john lennon#i would literally commit atrocities to know what john thought of how he looked here (via @wereonourwayhome)

#this actually changes everything i thought i understood about the 70s J&P vibe#also new questions arise about Paul's chest hair and the lack of it prior#only the important things#new podcast episodes#Paul's worst look and chest grooming#paul mccartney#john and paul#OH NEW HOT TAKE#this was 100% done intentionally to make sure they didn't bang#it was such a danger Paul took one for the team#and by took onei mean he prevented any taking from being done#dammit I'll probably write that fic#5 times John and Paul didn't bang (via @mydaroga)

#this is why he didn’t go to new orleans#:/ (via @goldslick)

SAD!

John Lennon, upon seeing Paul again in 1974 looking like that:

#john lennon#the beatles#shitposts#im sorry I thought of it then had to get it out (via @queerlennon)

#absolutely cursed#paul ruined his chances by choosing this moment to try a new form or drag that did NOT work for him (via @ahumoroussuggestion)

#absolutely dying#literally too much#the ultimate moment of seeing an ex who broke your heart after a few years and being like……oh#THAT’S who all the fuss was about???#(except from May’s account of that time it seems like the chemistry was still popping off somehow???)#which like talk about true love#being able to get past THAT#I kind of think that Paul was finding it fun to make himself look as gross as possible#relishing in it#after so many years of his looks being held up and scrutinized#to just be like oh yeah? watch this#kind of typical paulish rebellion (via @hands-across-the-skysky)

#divorce babe (via @pennielane)

#watching this post go through its villain arc has been such an experience great work guys#and by great work i mean im deleting tumblr (via @mystical-one)

He really has some balls, turning up like that.#mullet moustache and horrible thing on his chin#his fashion sense seemed to leave at the same time as Jane did#was he her Ken doll (via @beatlepaul4ever)

#honestly he still looks kinda hot#that wouldnt cure me (via @zutalorsihavemissedone)

Actually, it could maybe have been worse - he could have turned up with this look.

I can’t decide if it’s a real moustache or that horse face planted him in some muck. (via @beatlepaul4ever)

Why does he look like Paul Prenter? (via @bewareofdarkness)

#HBFJRBFHIRBFEKLFR#i think i would have just left#maybe that's why john thought he needed to be taken down a peg#'all you do is write love songs' like it was gonna hurt him#make him rethink his look#last time john hurt paul -- the man grew a beard (via @writertyper)

People ask why he didn’t go to San Francisco with him and the answer is this (via @yellowroombarine)

#this will forever make me mad at him#like this was the last photo documentation of them together#and that’s what he looked like#why (via @/bridgeoverstrawberryfields)

#REAL#FELT#some tiger king bullshit💀#I’m kinda with it tho💀💀 (via @iamsigningmylifeaway)

2024

#fr WHO lied to paul and told him this is a good idea (via @comradeharrison)

#as someone who thinks that 70s paul is the most ethereal indescribably beautiful person in the world#he looked soooo like shit during their reunion im ctfu#the dash of beard. horrifying (via @bugpoasting)

#if you genuinely think that John wasn’t absolutely attracted to Paul’s hillbilly porn star look than idk what we’re doing here#that sun tan and rat stache 100% did it for him (via @lennonsfag)

#I understand where everyone’s coming from but you’re LYING to yourself if you think John wouldn’t be into that#It’s Paul fucking McCartney he could show up bald with a beard down to his shoulders and John would get all hot and bothered over it#Paul has nothing to worry abt so why not pull up to the function looking like a porn star with the white Karen capri pants and all (via @iwannabeyourman)

#I’m sorry but he literally looks insane#mostly thag hair sticking straight up (via @sleeper9)

#I still think that's such a power move on Paul's part to be honest#Is he sliding his index finger into the fold his wraparound vest there?#“I know you want me. Even like this”#Paul's arm hair#Paul's...chest hair?#paul mccartney#Meanwhile John's showing off his hips bulge & thighs in May's jeans#they deserved each other (via @crepesuzette2023)

#i imagine he immediately got cured of homosexuality#if not... john please. put your glasses on (via @estrangedfiances)

#nooo he was so into it#his prissy princess suddenly looks like he’s into complete filth#john’s wildest fantasies suddenly seem possible (via @goldslick)

#and john was cured of his life long crush as soon as he opened the door#i actually hate that the bottom one is the last known picture of them together (via @the-electric-monk)

#ok i think this moon is hot i’m SORRY#like he looks so slutty he knew exsctly what he was doing#open shirt? gay little mustache? shoulder length shag?#the chest hair?????#paul was trying to ensnare him fr (via @gayyytripper)

#scream#once again mccartney was ahead of his time (via @oldmanpusspuss)

#when your ex shows up looking like a cartoon evil man (via @bambi-kinos)

#this is Kurtis Conner lmaooo goodbye (via @maelwife)

#I mean you know… I’ve grown partial to his pornstache and yes even the mullet#so idk probably I would still dig it (via @tenitchyfingers)

#tbh it’s not a bad look but it’s ugly when he does it (via @strangebrew)

only accurate take

#normally i run screaming seeing 70s paul#but this look?#*chefs kiss#what a power move (via @consulting--defective)

#john y paul#jp en los 70s#pues si (via @akamy08wt)

#did he dress like that on purpose with the goal of attracting or scaring him? we will never know#im soft for paul 70s mullet not so much for the moustche (on any period) but the clothess#mclennon#you cant have 67 without 74 last meeting (via @alienoriana)

#I've always kinda liked the mullet (yes yes something's wrong with me)#but I just can't get behind the mustache on him. I'm sorry#I kinda unironically want that shirt too#at least it has colour unlike most of the stuff people try selling you these days (via @chut-je-dors)

#i can tell u now i am infact a bisexual who is infact attracted to this look#hes committed to the bit (via @mcstarr)

#I don’t think I can get over that little bit on the chin#and the mustache too but yeah that’s where I just I don’t think I can but… put me and him in the same room and I might feel differently#cause of his energy#his physical presence (via @johnisonlysleeping)

#predicted bisexual twink fashion (via @therealestwizard)

#I think the Only downfall is the Kind of mullet here that type of mullet is out#it has to be just a little shaggier#but otherwise yeah this is just some dude at a club now (via @menlove)

#KURTIS LMAAOO#its actually kind of horrendous but i couldnt do any better (via @xtreme-cringe)

#and anyway we all know john would be totally into it dont kid yourselves (via @oldmanpusspuss)

#I could never transition because this is what I would slowly animorph into (via @asurrogateblog)

#it is still not a look and ladies pls know i will never eve date a man with this moustache and that shirt#but op. you aint wrong (via @phonybeatlemania)

#it’s called ✨️fashion✨️#what was 70s fashion even#“fashion” according to mccartney (via @lilywolfgray)

Can you imagine being John Lennon in 1974, and you’re about to see your ex-best friend/pseudo husband/songwriting partner for the first time in years, plus its a really big moment cause you’re tentatively thinking about working with him again, then the motherfucker shows up looking like this unironically:

#this is literally the genre of man i go for these days #john may well have been drooling over this guy #i still instinctively think he looks awful but i don't know if its just the last 5 years of bias again this look working on me #maybe this is sexy actually. I'll say it. I'll tie myself to this cross #<- prev #lm photo #mcharmley photo #scourge photo #oh you betcha john WISHED he'd grown a mullet

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n0vazsq · 2 days ago

Text

Chivalry is dead | Alexandra Saint Mleux x Reader

pairing . . . alexandra saint mleux x leclerc!reader

summary . . . Everybody thought Alex was dating your older brother Charles, and that you were dating your own person. But when a photo of you two kissing at Jimmy'z got leaked, everything changed

request . . . no!!

word count . . . N/A

warnings . . . none! THIS WAS WHEN ALEX HAD HER INSTA AS PRIVATE !!!!

faceclaim . . . various girls from pinterest!

alexavia yaps . . . WOOHOO GIRLY LOVE!!!!!!! anyway i <3 alex shes so pretty so yes!! first time im writing for a wag which is so excting omg!! timeline doesn't make sense so ignore that! legit took me like 4 days to finish idk why AND ITS KINDA CRNGE AND SHITTY ASL but lets focus on it being published <3

yourusername has posted two new stories !

caption 1: i wish i knew what was so interesting // caption 2: dinner with my girl 🤍

click to view all messages

username1 gorgeous girls omg

username2 my girl?? i see you y/n 👀

username3 alex abandoning charles to go with you lmao

username4 i wish i was a wag

username5 so prettyyyyy

alexandrasaintmleux i had so much fun mon ange 🤍

yourusername everything is fun with you mia bella ragazza 🤍🤍

username7 my GOD youre stunning

username8 replying to this in hope of y/n seeing my dm

username9 holy shit you two look like goddess'

charles_leclerc stealing my girlfriend now?

yourusername hilarious

charles_leclerc just joking, you two look stunning

yourusername thanks charlie

username10 my oh my i dropped dead

username11 where's the dress from?

username12 my dream in life is to be famous and post shit like this

alexandrasaintmleux

liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc, francisca.cgomes and 732 others

alexandrasaintmleux someone partied too hard and missed breakfast Tagged: yourusername

click to view all comments

friend1 let me guess, she slept until the afternoon?

yourusername you know i can read????

alexandrasaintmleux surprisingly, she woke up just a bit after 12

yourusername i'm literally right here

friend1 well that's an improvement!

yourusername guys??

alexandrasaintmleux it is!

yourusername fuck it i hate you

alexandrasaintmleux the problem is you don't

yourusername FINALLY

yourusername and i don't that's true 😔

username13 the prettiest! Liked by creator

username14 man i wish i was alex

francisca.cgomes how was date night??

alexandrasaintmleux soo beautiful

francisca.cgomes make sure to tell me about everything

francisca.cgomes you too yourusername !

yourusername will do, kika, will do

francisca.cgomes i can't wait for you two to go public so i can post all the cute pictures i have

alexandrasaintmleux i don't think that will be soon

francisca.cgomes you never know, maybe y/n will start making out with you in the paddock after getting sick of the people staring at you

yourusername ...

yourusername okay i won't go THAT far but i might kiss her just a tiny bit

alexandrasaintmleux mon ange....

yourusername love youuu

alexandrasaintmleux love you too

charles_leclerc this account is private right?

alexandrasaintmleux yes! it's only for friends and people who know about us

yourusername don't worry charlie we made sure nothing could go wrong

charles_leclerc just wanted to make sure my little sister and sister-in-law are safe and comfortable

yourusername awwww my heart 🥹

alexandrasaintmleux thank you charles! we appreciate it 🫶

yourusername how can someone be so gorgeous and beautiful and pretty and stunning and ethreal and breathtaking and lovely and elegant and radiant and exquisite and graceful and divine and hot and angelic and delicate and enchanting and serene and mesmirizing and captivating and eye catching and jaw dropping and show stopping???

alexandrasaintmleux by using some of your beauty

yourusername MY beauty? comapred to me you're an angel who graced this earth to fill my life with love and heavenly moments

alexandrasaintmleux have i ever told you how much i love you?

yourusername why don't you show me instead?

alexandrasaintmleux coming to the bedroom right now

francisca.cgomes why cant pierregasly be like this?

pierregasly i can't keep with y/n she's more down bad every day i see her

iamrebeccad if carlos was like this i wouldn't be hanging out with y/n and alex as much

francisca.cgomes same with me

carlossainz55 ???

pierregasly ???

yourusername pierre and carlos can fuck off this is a GIRL only place

charles_leclerc and me?

yourusername you too

charles_leclerc this is what i get for being a loving brother and pretending to date your girlfriend so the media doesn't pry on your life and harass you two

yourusername the phrasing is making me sound like an ungrateful brat

charles_leclerc because you are?

yourusername i'm telling maman we'll see if she likes this

charles_leclerc ...

yourusername go get a girlfriend buddy we need more girls for our hangouts

charles_leclerc what have i done to deserve this?

yourusername you crashed niki lauda's ferrari

charles_leclerc DON'T go there

charles_leclerc it was break failure and you know it

yourusername sure, charlie, sure

alexandrasaintmleux y/n please leave charles alone he might cry

yourusername of course mia bella ragazza 🤍

charles_leclerc alex????

yourusername fuck off

charles_leclerc sigh

yourusername

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc and 852K others

yourusername out with mia bella ragazza 🤍

click to view all comments

username15 EH?????

username16 at least its not a man guys

username17 EXACTLY

username18 Y/N SOFT LAUNCH!!!!!!!!!!!!!

username19 im never shutting about this for like another 6 weeks

username20 MY WIFEE IS NOT SINGLE????

username21 stop why is alex in the reflection of the second pic

username22 dont fuel my expectations

username23 MEOW

username24 y/n pls check your dms

username25 bros tryna rizz THE y/n leclerc

username26 the audcaity to say this in a soft launch post HELP

username27 i need to know who shes posting about

username28 oh to be in a relationship with her

alexandrasaintmleux gorgeous gorgeous girl

yourusername its all you bella

alexandrasaintmleux you flatter me

yourusername its not flattery if its true

alexandrasaintmleux im blushing right now stop

yourusername anything for you bella ��

username29 lowkey why do they sound like theyre flirting???

username30 i have a theory that theyre dating but covering it by 'dating' other ppl

charles_leclerc looking beautiful

yourusername thank you charlie 🤍

alexandrasaintmleux she always looks beautiful!

username31 ALEX!?!??!?!

username32 MISS.

username33 not alex flirting with her boyfriend's sister INFRONT of him

username34 who ever shes dating is living the dream lifeee

username35 she better hard launch soon or im suing

username36 sigh i wish i was her

username37 call me delusional but shes dating lando

username38 noo i see it

username39 WAIT STOP THATS??

username40 y/n literally wrote MIA BELLA RAGAZZA WHICH IS ITALIAN FOR MY BEAUTIFUL GIRLLLLL

username37 jeez calm down

username41 MOTHERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR

username42 woah

username43 can she like marry me idk

username44 can't wait to see her in the paddock again omggg

username45 STOP alex uploaded a story where she was in a restaurant too

username46 theres a lot of similar restaurants in monaco its probably her with charles

username47 sigh i want to be as pretty as her

username48 STUNNING.

username49 ate up everyone frrrr

username50 ALEX BAG HER UPPPP

username51 she better before we do

username52 frr omg

username53 the leclerc sibling fight over alex

username54 when i sleep i see her in my dreams

username55 MY GOOOD IM COMBUSTIG SHES GORGEOUSSSSSSSSSS

username56 mothered up so hard the earth cracked

username57 shes my kind of woman

username58 id let her hit me with charles' car

username59 real

username60 queen

f1_wags_exposed

liked by wag_gossip, f1spilled, username61 and 142K others

f1_wags_exposed a recent tweet went viral because of a picture containing CHARLES LECLERC'S girlfriend, ALEXANDRA SAINT MLEUX, kissing his younger sister Y/N LECLERC at Jimmy'z Monte Carlo following Leclerc's Monaco Grand Prix win Tagged: yourusername, alexandrasaintmleux, charles_leclerc

click to view all comments

username61 how to kms no borax no glue

username62 oh!

username63 they haven't commented on this yet???

username64 why should they do

username65 it'll only fuel the rumors

username66 so will staying quiet

username67 WHAR?????????????????

username68 tagging them is BRUTAL

username69 wrong timing but face card never declined for all three of them

username70 and never will

username71 this was NOT on my 2024 bingo card

username72 if i had a penny for every time a leclerc got with alexandra id have 2 pennies which isnt a lot but its weird that it happened twice

username73 y/n x alex we need it

username74 the otp fr

username75 HELL YES LETS GO WE GOT YURI

username76 WHERE ARE THEYYYYYY I NEED THEM TO SPEAK ABT THISS

username77 was full on expecting y/n to comment on this

username78 ME TOO like her ass would say 'girl what' or sum

username79 FRRR

username80 aww y/n looks so cute

username81 deleting all my socials after this

username82 they are SOULMATES vro

username83 this screams 'summer love triangle teenage drama series'

username84 OKAY BRO BYE IM LEAVING THIS EARTH THATS SO TRUE

username85 legit the summer i turned pretty (i didnt watch it)

username86 AND the kissing booth (didnt watch this either)

username87 this is fake i REFUSe to believe this

username88 i am JEALOUS, ENVIOUS, GREEN. WHY CANT THIS HAPPEN TO ME

username89 hottest love triangle i cant

username90 they ARE the main characters

username91 FRR like everyone else is just a side character

username92 gang if its a love triangle then theres incest

username93 this is the kind of romance ppl write books about

username94 STOP NOT THEM GOING RADIO SILENCE HELP ME

username95 if charles and alex break up then its true

username96 no bc i feel like im intruding on them rn

username97 THEYRE GORGEOUS

username98 shes everything and hes just ken

username99 idk who this is talking abt but its true for both y/n and alex

username100 charles could do so much better ew

username101 my QUEENS

username102 ok so like when do they hard launch

username103 if this turns out to be fake i will rage SO HARD

username104 i have a solution that alex and y/n get together and charles does whatever idk

username105 I DIED???

username106 i need them to go poly

username107 y/n and charles are siblings......

username108 I REMEMBER WHEN SOMETHING LIKE THIS HAPPENED LIKE IN AUS BC Y/N WAS SITTING ON ALEX'S LAP

username109 HELP WHAT???

username110 HOW DID I MISS THIS LORE???

username111 y/n made a story of her sitting on alex's lap again and was like 'and i'd do it a thousand times' then deleted it after like 2 minutes but it went viral LMFAO

username112 THIS IS SO RANDOM????

username113 leclerc-saint mleux lore goes DEEP

username114 man this shit is crazy

username115 idc whoever gets with who bc they will legit be the most gorgeous couple no matter what

username116 ALEX THE BEST WAGGGGG

username117 oh i am itching for y/n and alex hard launching with grand prix apperances

username118 when i opened insta i wasnt expecting THIS

username119 i-???? wtf do i even say

username120 i am SPEECHLESS

yourusername

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc and 852K others

yourusername chivalry is dead so i got me a girl. mia bella ragazza, ti amo tanto 🤍🤍 Tagged: alexandrasaintmleux

click to view all comments

alexandrasaintmleux je t'aime tellement, mon ange 🤍

yourusername 🤍🤍🤍

alexandrasaintmleux 🫶

username121 STOPP MY HEART CANT TAKE THIS

username122 this has me sobbing and i dont even know them

username123 WHAR?????????????????

username124 idk if i expected this or not

username125 honestly same

username126 WHAT THE SHIT

username127 werent alex and charles out on a date yesterday?????

username128 MY GYATTTTTT

username129 ????

username130 sTOP

username131 im deceased

username132 GIRL WHAT???? IM SP CONFUSED RN WHATTTT

username133 LETS GO us girlies won

username134 gang go check out the y/n and alex update accs they uploaded the whole saga wtf

username135 the most gorgeous gyals

username136 if i was charles id die like my sister dating my gf????

username137 alex was winning both ways

username138 PLEASEEEEE

username139 ICONIC.

username140 IUHGBSN????????????

username141 i dont believe in love

username142 FACE CARD IS LETHAL

username143 WHAT DID I MISS????

username144 SOBBING i love them sm

username145 if glazing them every single second was a crime id be 89 feet under

username146 GOD HAS FAVOURITES !!!

username147 THE SHIT????

username148 counting down the days tilll we get y/nalex appearance in the paddock

username149 the people's princess'

username150 STOP i just realised that y/n speaks to alex in italian bc alex is italian (by nationality) and alex speaks french to y/n bc y/n is monagesque (french speaking country)

username151 the aura from them is DIABOLICAL

username152 THATS SO....?? WTF IM IN LOVE

username153 i NEED a relationship like this

username154 OMG THATS SO ROMANTIC KILL ME

username155 i died

username156 GET THESE GIRLS THOSE RINGS NOWWWWWW

username157 they need to get married ASAP

alexandrasaintmleux i love you so so so so much

yourusername forever and always

alexandrasaintmleux until the end

yourusername 🫶🫶

alexandrasaintmleux 🤍🤍🤍🤍

charles_leclerc my favourite sister and her girlfriend

alexandrasaintmleux thank you charles!

yourusername i'm your only sister

alexandrasaintmleux ange...

yourusername what i'm just saying the truth

alexandrasaintmleux i love you more than anything in this entire universe my angel

yourusername i love you more than you'd ever know, pretty girl

arthur_leclerc GET A ROOM

lorenzotl arthur be nice

arthur_leclerc i'm not 5

yourusername then act like it

charles_leclerc guys stop fighting

yourusername HE STARTED IT

arthur_leclerc NO???

yourusername YES???

alexandrasaintmleux now we have to wait while they sort it out

charles_leclerc which could take decades

lorenzotl seems like it

username158 FUCKING FUCK OFF

username159 ok thats it im jumpiing off a cliff

username160 ive never seen something more funny and its in a fucking instagram comment section

username161 im actually crying

username162 i love them so much i hope nothing ever happens to them

username163 my heart is paining i cant take this anymore

username164 i need to know what charles feels about y/n dating his gf

yourusername he never dated her i was dating her it was all a pr stunt so we dont get attacked by homophobes

alexandrasaintmleux this worked out better than we thought

yourusername yeah i didnt think we'd get so much love

charles_leclerc you deserve it all

yourusername thank you charlie 🫶 love youuu

charles_leclerc love you too petit lapin

username165 no i refuse bye i cant

username166 PETIT LAPIN IS SO CUTE STOP ITTTTT

username167 the a in alexandra saint mleux starts for a lovesick fool for y/n

username168 THE WAY THEY STARE AT EACH OTHERRR>>>>>

username169 how i wish for love like this

username170 greatest love story frrr

alexandrasaintmleux has made their account public & posted three new stories !

caption 1: cherry red🍒 // caption 2: y/n holding leo!! // caption 3: 🤍🤍🤍

taglist . . . @barcapix ,, @f1lover55 ,, @ilovebarcaaaa ,, @httpsdana ,, @paucubarsisimp ,, @justaf1girl ,, @awritingtree ,, @freyathehuntress ,, @chilling-seavey ,, @iamred-iamyellow (lmk if you want to join the taglist!)

341 notes · View notes

spacegyaru · 2 days ago

Text

DON'T LOOK AT IT! PT. 3

your phone got lost for some reasons. the following day, the sex tape you made with your boyfriend (rin, isagi, chigiri) was all around the internet. how would they react?

cw: r18+, mdni! mentions of sex tape and implied sex. humiliation. mirror sex on chigiri’s part + angst. somewhat angst and comfort. a little bit toxic from rin’s part!

a/n: this is the last part!! unfortunately, i don’t have that much energy to continue this series further and might start writing for another idea 😭🥺i hope u guys understand!!

masterlist | part 1 (shidou, kaiser, bachira, & sae) | part 2 (reo, nagi, hiyori, otoya, and yukimiya)

rin itoshi:

sorry to tell you guys, but his gf has to be a little bratty and naughty enough to provoke him into making a sex tape. i imagine him doing it out of jealousy, he wanna make you moan his name loud while he takes you all-fours and biting your neck a little bit. all after seeing how isagi was being a little bit too friendly towards you.

and that's exactly what people saw on the video. you remember your phone being pickpocketed while you were out for a shopping. when it got lost, rin scolded you a little bit, and reminding you of the video you guys made. you were the one who insisted that he shouldn’t think too much cuz ya boi was overthinking. but his hunches and gut feeling prevailed. the next few days, your name was all over the news.

rin’s team worked on the damage control. he was hesitant to post a public apology, but he did anyways. unlike his brother who has a ‘idgaf’ attitude, rin cares a lot; he cares a lot about his image and your image too. it’s just plainly embarrassing for him.

when you started isolating yourself due to the humiliation you were going thru, rin tried to comfort you.he was never good with words and may have appeared harsh the way he said it, but you knew what he truly meant. you gave him a hug and a kiss due to his attempt to comfort you.

“babe, i know how much you hated it whenever i say ‘i told you so’ so i’ll try not to make you feel worse. but try not to worry about what other people say. don’t check your phone too much. it doesn't matter what they think. what matters most is what we think of each other .”

yoichi isagi:

fuck, even i am wondering. how did this guy have a sex tape? well, it was your idea, but you didn’t think that your bf, isagi, would be super into it. both of you ended up making two-three sex tapes together. at first, it was embarrassing for him. but then once he’s inside you, he gets all pussy drunk and hell breaks. all that can be heard in the background was the loud bed creaks, along with your moans and his groans. your legs are all over the place, while he held your thighs. the lights were a bit dim, but both of your faces were visible.

the following week, you lost your phone while you were sightseeing all alone. you didn’t think that much of it. but the following day, that very same video you created with isagi, was all over the internet. both of your names were mentioned in twitter and apparently, he was placed in trending.

although isagi was very much embarrassed by what happened, he never blamed you for it. he asked his team to focus on the damage control while he released a public apology, addressing what happened. he explained that you lost your phone while on a trip, and are now taking the proper measures to track whoever did spread the video. isagi couldn’t stop apologizing. everyone knew how harsh he speaks whenever he’s at football matches but this time, he seemed like a dorky apologetic machine.

when isagi realized how humiliated you seemed to be, he immediately prepared a romantic dinner for the both of you, buying some wine and steak for the both of you to enjoy. he also bought a bouquet of flowers for you. then he rented a private ship for the both of you, so you could spend time together and get things off your head for a while.

“love, you don’t have to blamed yourself for what happened, you know? sometimes, there are just things that are out of our control and this happens to be one of them. let’s get this off your mind for now, okay?”

hyoma chigiri:

okay so if you wanna do anything new with this guy, you should initiate it because he’s very much of a vanilla. that’s how you ended up having a sex tape with him. the crazy thing is, he was the one holding the camera. you were riding him in a cowgirl position, your ass was bouncing as you went up and down on him. your room was surrounded by mirrors, so chigiri was recording your reflection. his hands were shaking as he was feeling too much pleasure from your pussy. so far, he was able to record almost everything, but he ended up dropping the phone when he orgasmed.

one day, you lost your phone after a long day at work, but then again, you didn’t think anything of it. you just thought of buying a new one instead. but then few days later, you suddenly see your boyfriend’s name on twitter’s trending. when you clicked the link, that exact mirror sex videos were all over the internet. you just sighed upon seeing those. you never expected them to reach online but here they are.

given the situation, you didn’t even have that much space to comfort yourself because you just saw how down and embarrassed your boyfriend looked. he was able to release a public statement, and his pr team did the damage control. but he was so affected by people’s comments about his masculinity. well, the question about this didn’t really matter to him, but what affected him the most is how people would say how ‘hot’ you are and that you deserve someone more dominating and masculine. he was more affected on what people say about you, rather than what people say about him.

so your night with him ended up being a comfort-fest. both of you lay on the bed with hands holding together while you reassure him that what other people said isn’t true. that you only need him to satisfy you and no one else. you thought your night would be sweet and peaceful. until your small cuddle moment turned into a heated making-out session with chigiri hovering on top of you.

“babe, i love how hot you are whenever you're on top of me. i love how your body bounces and tell me how you make me feel good. but what about let me do the work tonight? i'll let you feel every part of me while i dominate you.”

#bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk smut #bllk x you #blue lock smut #bllk headcanons #blue lock headcanons #blue lock imagines #itoshi rin x reader #isagi yoichi x reader #chigiri x reader #chigiri hyoma x reader #isagi x reader

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gf2bellamy · 2 days ago

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hiii!

i was wondering if you could write spencer x reader, where she’s having a really bad day but spencer is coming home from a case and is exhausted, mentally and physically so she feels guilty that she would bother him with her mood

So she just hides away and is on the verge of a panic attack and spencer finds her and is all “you save me, so pls let me save you” and just comforts her (and calls her angel because 🫠)

thankyouuu so much (you dont have to do it if you dont want! no pressure at all!) i love your writing, it’s so incredibly cute and endearing <3

exhaustion — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: reader crying a lot , reader feeling guilty / tired / exhausted, spencer calls reader angel a/n: hii thank you so much for your request !! i hope you like this <3

The apartment was quiet—too quiet. You sat on the couch, curled up in one corner, staring blankly at the empty space in front of you. The TV was off, the big overhead light was off, and the only light came from the small lamp on the side table.

You hadn’t moved in what felt like hours, your mind swirling with the events of the day. It had been one of those days—the kind where nothing went right, where every little thing seemed to pile up until you felt like you were drowning under the weight of it all.

You missed Spencer. A lot. Especially right now.

He had a way of making everything feel better. You longed for his comforting hugs and the way he’d listen to you ramble about your day.

But he wasn’t here. He was at work, buried under mountains of paperwork and case files.

The sound of keys jingling in the lock snapped you out of your thoughts. You jumped up from the couch, your heart leaping in your chest as you hurried to the door.

Spencer stepped inside, looking disheveled and exhausted. His tie was loosened, his hair was a mess, and there were dark circles under his eyes. He dropped his bag by the door with a heavy thud, and before you could say a word, he pulled you into a tight hug.

You melted into his embrace, your arms wrapping around his neck as you buried your face in his shoulder. He smelled like coffee and faintly of paper. For a moment, you just stood there, holding each other.

“I missed you,” Spencer mumbled into your hair, his voice muffled but sincere. His hands rubbed soothing circles on your back.

“I missed you too,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. You didn’t want to let go, but after a moment, he pulled back slightly, his hands moving to cradle your face. His thumbs brushed gently over your cheeks.

“Today was horrible,” he said with a sigh, his shoulders slumping as he let go of you to shrug off his jacket. He ran a hand through his hair, looking more tired than you’d seen him in a long time.

You bit your lip, hesitating. “What happened?” you asked softly, following him as he moved further into the apartment.

He sighed again, sinking onto the couch and leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “Just… paperwork. So much paperwork. And then Garcia’s computer crashed, so we lost half the files we needed, and Hotch wanted everything reorganized by tomorrow morning…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “It was just one thing after another.”

You sat down next to him, your heart aching as you watched him. He looked so drained, so unlike his usual self, and you felt a pang of guilt for even thinking about burdening him with your own problems.

Today had been hard for you, but it sounded like it had been even harder for him. The last thing you wanted was to add to his stress.

So instead of talking about your day, you reached out and took his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry,” you said quietly. “That sounds awful.”

He gave you a small, tired smile, his fingers intertwining with yours. “It’s okay. It’s just… one of those days, you know?”

You nodded, your throat tightening. You did know.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him. Instead, you shifted closer, pulling him into another hug. He leaned into you, his head resting on your shoulder as you ran your fingers through his hair.

“How was your day?” Spencer mumbled, his voice soft and drowsy as he leaned back against the couch, pulling you with him.

You settled against his side, his head still resting on your shoulder as your fingers continued to gently card through his hair.

The question caught you off guard, and you hesitated for a moment, your hand stilling briefly before you forced yourself to keep moving.

“It was… good,” you said, your voice carefully neutral. You tried to inject a note of cheerfulness into your tone, but it came out sounding hollow, even to your own ears.

Spencer hummed against your shoulder, seemingly too tired to notice the slight falter in your voice. “I’m glad,” he murmured, his words muffled as he nuzzled closer to you. His warmth was comforting, but it did little to ease the tightness in your chest.

After a moment, he shifted, pressing a soft kiss to your temple before slowly sitting up. “I’m going to get changed,” he said, his voice still heavy with exhaustion.

He gave your hand a gentle squeeze before standing and heading toward the bedroom, leaving you alone on the couch.

As soon as he was out of sight, the lump in your throat returned, thicker and more suffocating than before. You bit your lip hard, trying to hold back the tears that had been threatening to spill all evening.

But it was no use. The dam broke, and before you could stop yourself, you were on your feet, hurrying toward the bathroom.

You shut the door behind you with a soft click, leaning against it as the first tear slipped down your cheek. Then another. And another.

Soon, you were crying , your shoulders shaking as you tried to stifle the sobs that threatened to escape. You muttered curses under your breath, frustrated with yourself for not being able to hold it together.

“Get it together,” you whispered harshly, pressing the heels of your hands against your eyes. But the tears wouldn’t stop.

The tears kept running, your shoulders shaking as you tried to stifle the sobs that threatened to escape.

You felt like a mess, your face hot and your chest tight. But just as you were about to try to pull yourself together, you heard footsteps outside the bathroom door, followed by a soft knock.

“Hey,” Spencer’s voice came through the door, gentle and concerned. “Can I come in?”

You froze, your breath catching in your throat. You didn’t know what to do. Part of you wanted to tell him to go away, to spare him from seeing you like this, but another part of you desperately needed him.

You muttered a curse under your breath, wiping at your face with the back of your hand before slowly getting to your feet.

You opened the door just enough to peek out, your eyes meeting Spencer’s. He was standing there, his expression soft but worried. His hair was still a mess, but his eyes were focused entirely on you.

“Hey, hey,” he said immediately, stepping closer. “What’s wrong?”

You sniffled, your throat tightening as you tried to find the words. “I—” you started, but your voice broke, and you shook your head, unable to continue.

How could you even begin to explain? Everything was wrong. The entire day had been wrong, and now you felt like you were falling apart.

Spencer didn’t push. Instead, he reached out, his thumb brushing gently over your cheek, wiping away a tear. His touch was so tender that it only made you cry harder.

“Come on,” he said softly, his hand slipping down to take yours. He gave it a gentle squeeze before pulling you with him, leading you out of the bathroom and down the hallway.

You followed him numbly, your fingers intertwined with his as he guided you to the bedroom. He sat you down on the edge of the bed and knelt in front of you, his hands resting on your knees as he looked up at you, his eyes searching yours.

“Talk to me, angel,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “What’s going on?”

The nickname made your heart ache, and you shook your head, fresh tears spilling over. “I didn’t want to bother you,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “You had such a bad day, and I didn’t want to make it worse.”

Spencer’s expression softened, his hands moving to cradle your face. “You could never make my day worse,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “And you’re never a bother. Not to me. Not ever.”

You shook your head again, your hands gripping his wrists as you tried to steady yourself. “But you were so tired, and I didn’t want to—”

“Hey,” he interrupted gently, his thumbs brushing away your tears. “You save me, I save you. That’s how this works, remember?”

You nodded slowly, your breath hitching as more tears spilled over by just hearing those sweet words. Spencer leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before pulling you into his arms.

You went willingly, burying your face in his shoulder as he held you close. His hands rubbed soothing circles on your back, and you felt some of the tension in your chest begin to ease. After a while he slowly let go, but his hands remaining on your arms.

“Tell me about your day,” he said after a while, his voice soft but insistent. “What happened?”

You hesitated, but the way he was looking at you—so patient, so understanding—made it impossible to hold back. So you told him. You told him about everything that had gone wrong.

And he listened, his hands never leaving yours, his eyes never wavering from yours.

When you were done, he pulled you into his arms again, holding you tightly against his chest. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice low and steady. “I’m sorry you had such a bad day. But I’m here now, okay? And I’m not going anywhere.”

You nodded, your face buried in his shoulder as you clung to him. For the first time all day, you felt like you could breathe again. Like maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice muffled against his shirt.

Spencer pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his arms tightening around you. “Always, angel,” he said softly. “Always.”

#criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #criminal minds x you #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds angst

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softestqueeen · 1 day ago

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prompt: "Oh? Does that turn you on?" a/n: sub!spencer lives in my head rent free. i hope you like it, enjoy <3 so, this is a repost beacause the original post got literally 0 notes and i want to see if tumblr is the issue or if it was really my writing 😭 original post + request warings:18+ MDNI!!, smut, pet names, hand job, dom/sub dynamics, mommy kink pairing: sub!spencer reid x dom!reader I 979 words special prompts I special masterlist

You were standing in the kitchen of your boyfriends flat. Spencer Reid could do a lot of things and knew how to do even more things, but the one thing he never quite mastered, was cooking.

By no means were you a good chef, but you knew you way around a kitchen and could whip up a few meals. Which is why you were currently in Spencers kitchen, showing him how to do a simple lasagna.

"And that's how you do the layers. The key is to stay consistent and make the layers even. Now you go ahead and try, Spence."

Your boyfriend didn't enjoy the cooking as much as the close proximity while you were showing him how to do all the steps, guiding his hands or just hugging him from the side while watching something cook.

Watching Spencer cook away made pride swell in your chest. This wasn't your first cooking lesson and it was definetely a dramatic improvement from your first one, where you had a quick bathroom back and once you returned he managed to completely burn the pasta sauce. He looked like a kicked puppy while you threw the sauce away.

But since then he had gotten significantly better, even surprising you with a home cooked meal on your anniversery.

Once Spencer successfully laid out the next layer of the long pasta and sauce, you couldn't help but smile.

"You did such a good job, you're getting better and better," you knew your boyfriend loved it when you praised him, so you decided to tease him a little bit with it ,"you're such a good boy, Spencer."

That made him stop. Spencer was glad that he wasn't facing you right now, but rather was standing at the counter with you standing behind him to his right, now looking at his face. You immediately saw his blush, but Spencer was glad you couldn't see the boner he was now sporting after hearing his words.

He knew you were teasing him in a way, though you were still earnest. Still, he couldn't keep his body from reacting, the words planting a seed inside of his mind in a place he hadn't dared to discover yet.

You could see immediately what had happened, how your words affected Spencer. A slow smile spread over your face and you stepped closer to him, your lips now directly next to his ear.

"Oh, does that turn you on? I didn't know you liked being called that, though you were always my good boy." Now you were being a bit mean, but you knew that Spencer would tap out if it got too much.

At you calling him a good boy again, Spencers breath hitched. He wasn't surprised that you almost immediately caught on to his feelings.

You reached around his hip, palming his length through his trousers, making Spencer moan. Starting to pepper kisses over his neck, while Spencer leaned against you, just teasing him for now.

"You like that, baby? Me calling you a good boy?" He could hear you so clearly with your mouth directlly to his ear and his cock twitched in reaction to your filthy words.

It took him a moment to register that you asked him a question, but once he did he nodded, putting more of his weight against you.

"Words, baby, I need words. Be a good boy for me or I'll stop."

"Y- Yes, I- uhm, do like it when you call me that. Please, please I need you."

You could feel him throbbing though his trousers, deciding to have some mercy. Slowly undoing his belt and popping open the button of his jeans. Reaching inside you pull out his length, the tip glistening with precum as Spencer let out a relieved sigh.

Taking him in your hand you slowly start to move up and down, spreading the precum on his length. His pretty moans and whines only spurred you on further, not yet increasing your speed, but the grip you had on him, making him gasp.

You knew this was a new situation for the both of you, the dynamic itself already familiar. You decided to test out the waters, Spencer now being able to think clear enough incase he felt uncomfortable with anything.

"Such a good boy for mommy, huh? You like my hand wrapped arounf you?" Spencer moaned at your filthy words, his cock twitching imaptiently in your hand.

"Yes mommy, please more." Jackpot.

You went faster over his length, your free hand wandering to his front as well, slipping under his t-shirt and sprawling out over his stomach, making his muscles contract.

"You're doing so well for me, baby. I can feel you're getting closer."

"Please, mommy, make me cum. I want to be good for you." His breathing was getting more irregular and you could feel him being impossibly close to his high.

"Don't worry baby, yo're already such a good boy for me. Cum for me, cum for mommy."

Your words finally tipped him over the edge, his cum spurting all over his stomach and your hand. You continued to stroke him, your movements slowing down while he calmed down as well.

You peppered kisses onto evey free patch of skin you could reach at the moment and retracted your hand, taking a paper towel to clean you both up. After washing your hands and cleaning up the evidence of your short lived passion, you were ready to get things done.

"Well I'd say you finish the lasagna and then we'll contine. What do you say, Spence?"

With those words you left a stunned and sputtering Spencer behind. He turned around, looking at you with the biggest puppy dog eyes. But once you gave him a pointed look, he immediately went back to the lasagna.

You were sure you've never seen someone layer anything that fast.

the requests for this event are OPEN until sunday (16/02)! here are the prompts!

a/n: i hope you liked this, if so please leave some notes, likes, reblogs and comments! feedback is very appreciated!

please also consider supporting my ao3: @ softestqueeen

requests open! (now also for the x files)

taglist: @silvermagnolias@milywatermelon@bigbananaa @mmmmokdok

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mulloey · 22 hours ago

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1:43am

super soft dom!yunho x innocent subby!reader, kind of corruption, implied virginity maybe?? yunho is HUGE,, lots of praise #mulloey is beating the ‘only writes mean yunho’ allegations today!

rqs open :)

—

“that’s it.” it comes out as a grunt, his face flushed as he forces his way inside you. your walls are clinging to him, strangling really, and it takes every ounce of strength not to drop all pretence of gentleness and just fuck you senseless right here and now.

but you’re too sweet for that; the look in your eyes is too loving and innocent for him to possibly hurt you in that way. you’re sniffling, teary-eyed with wet lips as you suck his thumb like it’s the only thing keeping you from breaking. “oh, fuck,” he groans. “so tight f’me, aren’t you?”

you whine, shaking hands clasped around his arm as he stretches you open. “y-yuyu,” you gasp. “nngh, hurts..”

“i know, baby,” he coos. “won’t hurt for much longer, yeah? just be good and open up for me, i’ll take care of you.”

you’re trying your best, he knows you are, but you’ve never taken anything like him before. he curses under his breath; at this rate he’s going to cum before he’s even started moving. you’re just too tight.

“baby,” he says. “gimme my hands back, okay? need em to push deeper, honey.”

he pulls his thumb from your mouth; you don’t have time to whine at the loss before he picks up your own hand, pushing your smaller fingers past your lips. “there’s a good girl,” he says. “suck your fingers, sweetheart, i’ve got you.”

he presses both of his hands down on your hips, holding you still and steady so he can finally get all the way in. he feels the moment you relax around him; the loud, pained squeals soften into low, pleasured moans and he smiles, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “there we go,” he coos. “you did it baby. i’m so proud of you.”

you grunt, squeezing your eyes shut. “yuyu, fuck— please move, i need—”

“sh, sh,” he smiles. “don’t worry, baby. i’m gonna fuck you now, gonna split you the fuck open. you want that?”

“please,” you groan. it’s muffled by your fingers still stuffed in your mouth and he can’t help but coo. he loves his pretty girl so fucking much. “please, yu. wanna— wanna feel you.”

“just relax,” he says. “don’t tense, pretty. just let me use you and you’re gonna feel me everywhere.”

—

didn’t tag ppl cus this is super short n im not sure if ppl would wanna be tagged in short things or only my full fics.. hope u liked tho!

(as a side note,, for all my girlies/whoever who have struggled to make it fit at first this one goes out to u:)) it’s a super normal problem, with my first bf it took me several months to be able to fit him in at all even tho he was average! not every ‘first time’ (or even times after that) goes as well as it does in fics so you could easily imagine this as being their 10th, 11th time trying this bc sometimes ur body just won’t cooperate with ur brain ! see a doc if it’s bothering you but it’ll get better<3 love🖤🖤🖤)

#ateez smut #ateez hard hours #kpop smut #ateez x reader #ateez hard thoughts #jeong yunho smut #yunho smut #mulloey writes

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always-just-red · 2 days ago

Note

Oh I forgot to add 😭😭😭 be it fluff like jelly sylus but fluff maybe he trying to make the mc jelly too ? I’m going wild with ideas, I will be quiet

(Part 1 of ask) FINALLY finished this fic oh my goshhh I've loved it so much but writer's block was my constant companion for this one 🫠 Thanks for your patience!! Sy is jealous but I'm still pushing my 'Sylus is the softest man alive and would die before hurting MC' agenda, so I had to get a lil creative! Hope I've pulled it off idk 😭😭

Be Mine

Sylus x Reader 🩸

Summary: Sylus is getting a little tired of sharing you with the other men in your life (and he doesn't mean Luke and Kieran 🙃)

Genre: lil bit of angst, comfort and fluff

Warnings/Additional tags: gn!reader, jealousy, other LIs mentioned, brief allusion to Raf's self-harm tendencies, cheating mentioned, some intimacy & kisses-- more soft than spicy!

| Word count: 4k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

Sylus has spent centuries waiting for you, so he’s going to give you another minute.

Patience is not a virtue; it’s an old acquaintance he greets with a false smile whenever he’s forced to pass it on the street. Sometimes outside your building, whilst you’re chatting with a neighbour from the apartment above yours. Sometimes when you’re running late from a doctor’s appointment.

Patience has been cropping up a lot these days and gods, he’s sick of its face. Even now, it sits with him at this table for two as he sips at a glass that’s almost empty. There’s poetry in stalling, in savouring what’s left, especially as a waiter hovers anxiously nearby, anticipating the need for yet another refill (it would be the third).

Dregs of blood-red wine swirl with solemnity. Sylus is a patient man, a man who waits, but he doesn’t want to be. He wants the reward of it: the pot of gold at the end of that insipid rainbow. Hasn’t he waited enough?

He lifts his drink to his lips again.

“Sylus!”

They curve as he swallows the final drop.

“I’m so sorry,” you stammer, flinging yourself into the seat across from him so quickly that he’s cheated of the chance to rise and help you with your chair. “Sit back down,” you usher, because he had made a start on it, “really, Sy, I’m so, so sorry. Things at work just got crazy, and I—”

“You don’t have to explain, sweetie,” he smiles as he signals the waiter. He’ll have that refill, now, and he orders your favourite drink as you shrug off your coat and fumble with your bag, looking for something. “I’m more than familiar with the Association’s… dedication to a cause.”

You glance up with an amused smile. “We’re keeping you on your toes, huh?”

“Mmm. There is one hunter who’s proving to be a real thorn in my side.”

“You on top of that?”

“Most evenings, yes. Some mornings, too.”

You poke your tongue out at him. You’ve retrieved a compact mirror and you use it to study your dishevelled reflection. “Is everything all right at work?” he asks as you fuss over your hair.

“Yeah,” you puff. “Long story.”

“We have time.”

With a warmer smile, you stash your mirror away and sequester your bag by your feet. “You sure?” He gives you a look. “Fine,” you chuckle. “Basically, Xavier forgot to write up some reports. He’s been away on an ultra-secret, special mission or whatever—” you tap your nose conspiratorially— “which I didn’t just tell you, okay? But yeah, the reports weren’t done, and they were due tonight, so…”

Sylus raises an apathetic eyebrow. “He asked you to help?”

“Begged me, more like.”

Of course he did. The waiter arrives with your drinks and Sylus has never been gladder for a distraction. His mouth is full of pettiness, bitterness, so he drowns it with wine. You could have called. Texted. “So kitten’s been playing secretary, hmm?” he goads instead.

“That would imply kitten could keep track of time,” you pout, “so no. And speaking of playing a part—” you poke his nose— “you’re allowed to be mad at me. I should have called you. Texted. So let me have it, yeah? I feel bad enough already without you being all… perfect.”

You’re only teasing, but Sylus doesn’t feel perfect. He’s thinking about you working late with your partner, laughing at his jokes, poking him with your pen to keep him from falling asleep on his paperwork. He smirks, regardless. “What if I want you to feel bad?”

“Oh, gods,” you slump forwards, face-down on the table. “How long were you waiting?”

“Years.”

You fake cry into the tablecloth. “Don’t, Sy. Just tell me the truth. How bad was it?”

“Really, years,” he insists again, folding his arms on the table and sliding forwards, too. His chin is resting on his hands, and he blows at the top of your head. “Look.” Your face lifts so you can peer at him. He pinches his hair. “I’ve even gone grey, see?”

You sit up the tiniest bit more and your noses are almost brushing. “It looks nice,” you whisper.

“You think so?”

“Mmm. Suits you.”

Your eyes are every gem— every jewel in an illicit auction Sylus has to steal away from the rest of the world, because something that pretty just has to be his; it will find no worthier home than his hands. His devotion fills vaults. Aren’t they spilling with emeralds, rubies, sapphires, diamonds— those reckless imitations of your gaze? No-one else could deserve them, adore them like he does.

And they’ve nothing on the real thing.

Someone clears their throat and Sylus tracks the noise begrudgingly. The anxious waiter is back, clutching menus this time. You sit up fully, laughing to break the tension, and sure enough, Sylus feels less like hurling the man through the nearest window.

He’s still thinking about it though. He tells the waiter as much with a smile, and the menus are passed over with shaking hands. When Sylus says, “thank you,” it sounds like a bomb, ticking.

“Play nice,” you tut, once the waiter’s cleared the blast radius.

“Sweetie, when do I ever not play nice?”

You blink back at him disbelievingly. This should be good. “How about the time that you—?”

A familiar ringtone interrupts you, and your eyes widen in apology as you grab at your bag, rifling around for your phone. You find it— check the call and decline it— but relief is hiding, refusing to set foot on stage. Not yet, it confers to Sylus darkly, because it knows what comes next.

“Do you need to…?” he asks anyway.

“Nah, it was just Rafayel. Thanks, though.” You set the phone down. “Where was I?”

“You were about to tell me what a terribly bad man I am, sweetie.”

“Right!” you giggle. No, not yet. “So how about the time that you…” The phone rings again. You check it. Decline it. “How about the time that you—ugh!” It’s ringing again.

Sylus taps a finger on the table, impatiently patient. You can’t mute the wretched thing: the next call you miss would be a Wanderer, tearing through an orphanage or the like. It’s the reason you check, even when there’re no orphans at stake— just a pest of an artist with too much time on his hands.

Except… “Oh,” you say, glancing downwards, “it’s Zayne. I should probably—” Sylus gives a half-smile of blessing, but you weren’t waiting around for it— “hey, Zayne! I can’t talk right now, unless— Raf? What the hell? How did you get Zayne’s phone?”

You pull yours away from your ear as a string of whines come through:

“— ignore my calls, don’t even text me to ask what’s up, and then pick up his call right away? You hate me, right? Just say that you hate me, cutie.”

“I don’t hate you, Raf.” The phone is back to your ear. “I’m busy. Now seriously, how did you get— oh, hi, Zayne. Why is Raf…?” Sylus can hear a deeper voice answering your questions. “He’s at the—? Shit, is he okay? Ugh, tell him I can hear him. Tell him I know he’s not dying.”

You meet Sylus’s eyes as conflict erupts on the other end of the call. Sorry, you mouth as static filters through, interspersed with broken words and curses. The doctor’s voice prevails. “Yeah, Zayne,” you speak back to it. “I’ll call Thomas, get him to pick him up. Mmhmm? Oh!” You pinch the bridge of your nose. “I forgot, he’s at that stupid art thing. Look, maybe later, I can…”

The artist’s shrill tone is protesting.

“I know it’s my job, Raf!” you counter. “But gimme a break, please. If it was any other night, you know I’d be there. Of course I wanna be there! But I can’t—”

It’s just a slip of the tongue— words you don’t even realise you’re saying— but Sylus still feels his heart sink. He hates it. A heart is so difficult to argue with: it’s long gone before you can talk any sense into it. He stands from the table, those priceless eyes of yours pursuing him. When you tilt your head, he musters a smile, then a weak excuse: “I’m just stepping outside for a moment.”

You nod, a follow-up question on the tip of your tongue, but then there’s a voice in your ear again— two voices— and you’re you, so of course you listen.

…

Sylus waits on a bench outside the restaurant, closing his eyes as he waits for his heart to come back.

It’s only been a few minutes. He’s thinking about your eyes, your nose and lips— an inch from his— and how he should have closed that gap before it grew treacherous. Shouldn’t he be done with this? This… longing? You’re his. You’ve told him you’re his, over and over again, but he finds himself needing to hear it once more; the ghost of your voice is starting to lack persuasion.

He is yours without exception, but you? There’s always a caveat. I’m yours, Sylus. But only so long as the city is quiet. I’m yours, Sylus. Until someone else calls. The door to the restaurant opens— he can hear it— but he doesn’t open his eyes. He wants to pretend.

I’m yours, Sylus. No caveats. No exceptions.

“Sylus.”

He swallows the dread in his throat.

“I’m sorry,” you entreat softly. His eyes open, and you’re wearing your coat, holding your bag. “I have to run to the hospital— it’s this whole thing. Raf, like, passed out or something. He’s not been eating again. Zayne said when something like this keeps happening, it’s a sign that… yeah. He just… needs someone. And he hasn’t got anyone else, you know?”

“I understand.” You’re worried about your friend. That’s all it is.

Why can’t he believe that’s all it is?

You come over and sink down on the bench beside him, looping your arm through his and giving it a reassuring squeeze. Don’t you know that he’s afraid? That a selfish, spiteful part of him wants to hide you— with the rest of his treasures— away from the light, so he can love you in the dark?

There’s a sigh as you lean against him, savouring his touch like the wine one swirls in a glass when their thoughts are elsewhere. It’s gone in a mouthful; you check your watch, and he hopes it’s bitter.

“Are you okay?” you ask.

No, he would rather be sweet for you, but look at you— making him lie. “I’m okay,” he says, and it doesn’t have a drop of conviction. He’s tired of philanthropy.

…

“What are you gonna do? Come on, tell us. Tell us! What are you gonna do?”

“I don’t know, Luke. Give me a second, okay? Jeez.”

You literally just got here. Your pace is brisk and the night air still clings to you— you shed a layer of it by peeling your arms out of your coat. Luke and Kieran are close behind, keeping to your heels like terriers hoping you’ll trip with a plateful of food. They’ll take even a crumb at this point.

“You gonna fight him?” Kieran nudges, but your lips stay tight.

“Oh, you’re so gonna fight him,” Luke takes away from the silence.

You don’t know what you’re going to do. You’ve reached a decadent lounge, lavished with black and gold, and you throw your coat over the arm of a chair before starting to wrestle off your combat boots. You’ve been off work for hours, but it doesn’t feel like it. One call-to-duty after another; first the hospital, now this.

Mephisto caws in greeting from a nearby perch. “I’m not gonna fight him,” you say as your second boot drops with a clunk. “I just need to—”

“Say no more,” Luke cuts you off. “We want in.”

With a tired sigh, you gaze up at the twins at last. Kieran is readying a fist: punching his hand softly, the beak of his mask low and threatening. Beside him, Luke swings a baseball bat over his shoulder. He didn’t have it a second ago. Where did he even—?

You put your hands on your hips. “You guys got a death wish or something?”

“Yes!” they enthuse together, nodding excitedly.

You haven’t got time to ask. Your focus drifts to Sylus’s bedroom door, where music is leaking with honeylike light. You can’t count the number of times you’ve fallen over that threshold, exhausted— always slightly broken. You want to crawl into cool silk sheets and a warmer embrace, but there’s one small problem.

The text that had brought you here, anxious and out of breath:

Boss is with someone.

“What’re you thinking?”

You’re closer to the door, now, and Luke’s whisper makes you jump. You spin, twisting the bat from his fingers and pushing him back until the tip is pressed to his throat. “Get back,” you hiss, before levelling the weapon at an encroaching Kieran, “both of you.”

Luke leaps behind his brother— swinging him between you for protection. The baseball bat stays hovering, and Luke peeks over Kieran’s shoulder, swatting at it like an indignant kitten.

“Stop it,” you scold, poking back at his hand and his masked face. “Begone!”

“Yes, boss!” Kieran goes to move, but Luke is holding him in place. He’s dragged backwards: a human shield until they can both scurry around the turn of a corridor.

You smile fondly. You forget, for just a moment, that you’re alone and full of uncertainty. The song in the next room lulls, at its inevitable end, and then you can’t forget. You’re stood in silence, staring at a door you’ve never had to knock before. Another song starts up.

Whatever this is, you can handle it.

You use the baseball bat to tap against the dark wood. “Sylus?” you call.

He makes you wait. You can hear him, moving around— unmistakably taking his time— but you don’t mind. You’re running scenarios through your head. Is he in on this, too? Or…?

He opens the door and oh, he definitely is. His silk robe hangs haphazardly over his figure, one side threatening to slip from his shoulder and the belt dangerously loose at the middle. A flush is tinting his face, spreading down through his neck, past his collarbone and lower, you think, but you’re trying not to look.

“Sweetie,” he purrs in the way that tells you he’s up to no good, “what a pleasant surprise.” His eyes flit downwards. “And you’re armed, too.”

There’s a breathlessness to the observation, and your ability to breathe briefly eludes you as well. His hair is damp and unkempt, his skin warm, his gaze hot. Is this a test? It feels like a test.

“Are you alone?” you snap, because he’s clearly put some thought into whatever it is, and you’re a good sport, so you’ll play along.

“No,” he says, but then: “You know you’re always with me in spirit, kitten. Even if not in—” another downwards glance— “body.”

“Sylus.”

“Mmm?”

“I’m going to ask you one more time.” You catch his chin with your free hand, forcing his gaze back to your face. “And I want a real answer.” He swallows thickly. “Are you alone?”

His submission is fragile. He lifts his hand, wraps his fingers around your wrist like a reminder of the fact. “Careful, sweetie.” His grip tightens as his voice drops. “Think about what you’re asking.”

“I know what I’m asking.” You snatch your hand free and step closer. “Get out of my way.”

Sylus narrows his eyes, but soon relaxes. He sweeps a hand through his hair, chuckling as he obeys— moving aside to let you past. You storm through, looking over every visible inch of his room. There’s nothing to see, of course. No clothes that aren’t yours pooled over the floor. No lover wrapped up in his bedsheets.

“Just what exactly are you looking for?” he asks smugly behind you.

“Save it, Sylus.” Your pretend patience is gone. “The twins told me everything.”

So you start searching more strenuously. You make your way over to his bed, baseball bat slung over your shoulder as you check behind the far side— even stooping to peek under it. You open the wardrobe. Nothing. Use the baseball bat to push back the curtains, letting in more blood-red moonlight. Nothing. You huff in frustration.

“You know, don’t you?” Sylus says quietly.

He’s leant against the doorway, arms crossed, and you spare him a glance. “Know what?”

“That there’s no-one here.”

It sounds like defeat. “I’m taking this very seriously, actually,” you dismiss as you roll open the drawer of his bedside table, where no-one is hiding. You move on to even more absurd places: lifting flowers out of their vase to glance about inside it, peering into the horn of his vintage gramophone.

You’d hoped your antics would elicit at least a short laugh, or a scoff of amusement. There’s nothing, though, so you plonk onto the bed— defeated, yourself— and look to the man as you set your weapon down.

He looks back with an insincere smile. “How did you know?”

“That you weren’t really with someone? Because you’re you, Sylus. The key to a good prank?” Your fingers twinkle in the air beside your head. “Believability. Besides—” now a forefinger taps at your temple— “nothing gets past this.”

“Your ego?” he guesses with a smirk that is sincere, if nothing else.

“My brain, Sy.”

“Ah.”

Your ego— tsk. Your feet are dangling from the bed, playing with a slipper they’ve fished out from underneath it, and you have half a mind to launch it at him. This doesn’t feel like one of your usual games, though, and you’ve had a whole ride through the N109 Zone to figure out why.

“I really hurt you, didn’t I?” you speak like a confession, staring down at the floor so you don’t have to meet his eyes. “That’s what all this is about, right? You wanted to get back at me for dinner?”

“No, I—”

“I get it.” Your feet find the second slipper. “I do. I mean, it was a really shitty thing to do— walking out on you like that. Especially after you waited for me. You went to all that effort, and I— ah.” You’ve toed one of the slippers out of reach.

“Allow me,” comes a voice that’s suddenly close. Sylus’s figure looms over you before he’s crouching, kneeling by your feet. He still looks like a mess of sin, but he’s gentle as he retrieves the slipper for you. Removes your socks for you. Slides a slipper onto each of your cold feet. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” he mutters.

You let out a sigh. “Sylus.” You’re scolding him, and he gazes up at you, his eyes garnets of adoration only you could afford. “You can tell me anything, you know.”

“I know, sweetie.”

“So why won’t you tell me how you feel?”

He sits back on his knees, his thumb drawing circles on the inside of your ankle. The ministrations are mindless, and so are his words: “How I feel is not important.”

“Of course it is!” You pull away from him. “Don’t say things like that.”

“But I thought I could tell you anything, kitten.”

It’s a nick from a blade that could do much worse; he wants you to feel how sharp it is. His smile is a warning and he’s waiting for the hunter in you to strike back, because violence is what you’re good at. What you’re both good at. It hurts, but it’s easy.

You shift forward on the bed. “Sylus… you don’t need to protect me. Not from you. Not from anything you feel. I want you to be happy, to tell me if you’re unhappy. I don’t need you to—” your fingers skirt over his chest and you falter inexplicably— “to sacrifice yourself for me.”

Sylus looks down to where you’re tracing the shape of his heart on his skin. He lets out a long, beleaguered breath, then leans closer to you, his head turning away as he settles it on your lap. Your hands find his hair instinctually, threading through it in slow, meandering motions.

“I want you to be mine,” he admits on another sigh.

He can’t see you smile, but he’ll hear it in your voice: “I am yours, Sy—”

“No— just mine.”

He won’t make it a demand. Even asking you nicely has him breathless and still, like the drawn-out pause of a finished symphony. Your hands stop moving, out of respect for the quiet. You’re remembering the times you’ve been late out of your building because you’d stumbled into Xavier in the lobby. The doctor’s appointments that always overrun, and Rafayel’s ‘emergency’ phone calls.

“Come and sit with me,” you mumble, patting the bed beside you.

When Sylus does, it’s with the same reluctance a cat surrenders a sliver of sun. Lazy and listless— still warm from the light. The bed sinks under his weight and you turn to face him. His robe’s collar has fallen further, so you hook a finger under it to draw it back up to his neck. Then you straighten the lapels, smoothing them over distractedly.

He’s watching your face, not the movements of your hands. Your cheeks feel warm. “I was speaking to Rafayel earlier, and we—”

A groan, and Sylus is no longer at your fingertips; he’s flopped down backwards on the bed, his hand over his face. You can’t help giggling— you’ve broken the big, bad boss of Onychinus, it seems. Is that all it takes? You grin as you lie down with him, settling on your side, propped up on an elbow. He doesn’t stir when you fix a few stray strands of his hair.

“We talked about boundaries,” you continue. “How I can’t be on call twenty-four seven, and how he’s going to take better care of himself, so I don’t have to be.”

Sylus has moved his hand, ever so slightly.

There’s more: “I’m gonna call in sick to work tomorrow. I made a deal with Xavier, that’s why I stayed late today. He’ll cover for me.” You shift closer. “I wanted it to be a surprise. I know I can’t always be with you, but I am always thinking of you, I promise. You’re always with me in spirit, Sy, even if not in—” you press a quick kiss to his chest— “body.”

He chuckles at the words, or maybe the touch tickled.

You grin down at him. “I’m yours. Say it.”

“I’m yours.”

“No! Ugh, just—” Smart-ass! You flick his forehead as he laughs quietly. “Not the words ‘I’m yours’, say that I’m—”

His hand is at your face, pulling you in so he can kiss you. It’s slow and it’s patient; he’s taking his time, and you won’t slip away. You can feel his smile. “You’re mine,” he murmurs when he finally withdraws. One more kiss, lighter, on the tip of your nose. “Just mine.”

Always. You let him pull you into an embrace, snuggling into his warmth like you’ve been wanting to from the moment you last left it. You can hear his heartbeat beneath the lullaby of his breath. “Sy?” you whisper.

“Hmm?”

“You look really hot when you’re pretending to cheat on me.”

He scoffs, but a yawn comes before his response. “Don’t get any ideas, kitten.”

Your quiet is pensive. “I have this lunch with Zayne later this week. I really should text him to find out—”

The grip around you constricts, and a voice is in your ear, soft and possessive:

“What did I just say?”

#🖋rach is actually writing #sylus x reader #sylus #love and deepspace #lads sylus #lnds sylus #l&ds sylus #qin che #sylus x mc #sylus x you #lads x reader #lads #lnds #l&ds

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satellite-evans · 2 days ago

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Hi! Could I please request a one shot where Harry is sick maybe during tour and his gf has to take care of him? Thank you! I love your writing!

a/n: thank you so much for liking my work, it truly means a lot! it's a little short but I still hope you'll like it <3

sick on tour

The hotel room is quiet except for the noise of the air conditioning and the occasional sniffle from the lump of blankets curled up in the middle of the king-sized bed. The curtains are drawn, shielding the bright city lights outside from intruding on the peaceful, dimly lit space. Harry has always liked his hotel rooms cozy—candles on the nightstand, his favorite hoodie draped over the chair, and the softest pillows he could find. But tonight, none of it seems to bring him comfort.

You stand at the edge of the mattress, arms crossed, watching Harry sulk into his pillow. His curls are a mess, sticking to his slightly damp forehead, his nose a little pink from the fever, and yet—despite looking absolutely miserable—he’s still trying to convince you he’s fine.

“I can do the show,” he rasps, voice hoarse and scratchy. He attempts to prop himself up on his elbows, but the movement sends him into a fit of coughing. You sigh and press a hand to his chest, gently urging him back down.

“Baby, no. You can barely sit up.”

He frowns, brows knitting together like a petulant child. “S’just a little cold.”

“You have a fever, a sore throat, and you sound like you swallowed sandpaper,” you point out, smoothing your fingers over his clammy forehead. “You’re not going anywhere.”

Harry grumbles something incoherent and burrows further into the pillows. You can tell he hates this—hates being taken care of, hates being seen as anything less than strong. But the thing is, to you, he’s always strong. Even now, curled up in a nest of tissues and blankets, he’s still the man you love more than anything.

Tour has been brutal on him lately. Night after night of performing, giving his all to the crowds that adore him, leaving every ounce of himself on that stage. He never complains—not about the exhaustion, not about the jet lag, not about the toll it takes on his body. But you see it in the way his shoulders slump when he thinks no one is looking, the way his voice is a little more raw each morning, the way he clings to you just a little tighter when he finally collapses into bed at the end of the night.

“I can’t cancel, though,” he whispers after a long moment, his voice laced with guilt. “They’ve probably spent so much money—flights, hotels, tickets, clothes and waited months just to see me. I can’t let them down, I just can't.”

You soften, understanding where his frustration is coming from. Harry has always carried the weight of his fans' happiness on his shoulders, always put them first. It’s one of the many reasons you love him—but right now, he needs to put himself first.

You take his hand in yours, rubbing slow, comforting circles over his knuckles. “Harry, sweetheart, I already spoke to Jeff. He and the team handled everything. They put out a statement, rescheduled the show, and made sure the fans know how much you care about them Not that they need a statement anyway. They know how much you love them.”

His brows furrow. “You—”

“I took care of it,” you interrupt gently. “So you don’t have to worry, okay? The fans love you, but they love you healthy and not sticky. You can’t give them the show they deserve if you push yourself too hard now. That is not what they deserve.”

Harry lets out a slow breath, his tense shoulders easing just a fraction. He still looks guilty, but there’s also relief in his tired eyes. “You really talked to Jeff?”

You nod. “Of course. Your health comes first, baby. Now please let me take care of you."

You slip out of the room quietly and return with a damp cloth, gently dabbing it against his forehead. The coolness makes him sigh, his tense shoulders relaxing under your touch. Then, you hold up a spoonful of honey-laced tea to his lips. He scrunches his nose but accepts it, swallowing with a soft grimace.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, voice slightly clearer now.

You smile and brush your fingers over his cheek. “Of course, my love.”

After making sure he’s warm enough, you reach for the small bowl of soup on the nightstand that you kindly asked form the hotel staff. “Just a little, H. You need something in your stomach other than medicine.”

"The fans would've probably ask for me to sing medicine tonight but they can't because I need it. The irony." He said, trying to lighten the room up with a joke but cough wave that crushed him once again.

"Drink Harry." You said sternly.

He looks at you like he wants to argue, but he knows better. You lift the spoon to his lips, and after a moment’s hesitation, he leans forward and takes a bite. A small, content sigh escapes him, and you can’t help but grin.

“You’re good at this,” he mutters, sleep beginning to weigh heavy on him.

“I'm just good at loving you lovie,” you reply simply, brushing back his curls as he lets his eyes drift shut.

His fingers reach for yours under the blanket, giving them a weak squeeze. “Love you more.”

You sit beside him, pressing a soft kiss to his fever-warmed temple. “Just rest, my love. I’ve got you.”

And with the way he sighs, relaxing into your touch, you know he believes you.

Tomorrow, he’ll probably try to argue again. Try to tell you he feels fine, that he’s ready to get back out there, to put on another show. But for tonight, he’s yours to take care of. And you wouldn’t trade that for anything in the world.

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles blurb #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #fluff #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles x female reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles one shot #harry styles writing #harry styles x y/n #harry styles love on tour #harry styles fic rec #fic rec

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cameronsprincess · 3 hours ago

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omg pls write about frat!rafe and reader and she wants to make a sex tape with rafe as revenge porn for her ex

PLEASE!!!!! i love this so much omfg!!!! i hope you love it baby!

CW: smut! 18+ only! frat!rafe, slight violence, drinking, multiple positions, fingering, male receiving oral, rafe ‘n reader make a sex tape and send it to her shit ass ex bf!

a/n: i’ve never been in college so bare with me, bc idk if i’m getting some terms or things correct, but i did some googling for this😂 also.. i lowkey gave this a lil more storyline.. oops.

masterlists.

you had your sights set on the frat president for a couple of weeks now. ever since you and spencer broke up, you had wanted to figure out a way to get back at him for cheating on you… and what better way to do that than to hook up with his frat brother, the most sought after man on campus, rafe cameron.

it’d been two weeks of you subtly flirting with rafe, giving him fuck me eyes any time you saw him, running into him in the courtyard or dining hall, finding an excuse to talk with him after the fact. it didn’t take much, honestly, after day one rafe was already reeled in.

you’re currently sitting in the library, books open and scattered around the table, studying for a final exam when you hear a voice you’ve grown accustomed to hearing as of late.

“hey, pretty girl. whatcha studying for?”

you glance up from your textbook, setting your pen down on the tabletop and crossing one leg over the other before smiling brightly at rafe. “my final for forensic psychology. worth twenty percent of my grade,” you pause, biting at your bottom lip and batting your lashes at him. “what’re you doing in here?” you ask, a slight tease in your tone.

rafe chuckles, the sound deep and smooth. it sends a jolt of arousal straight between your legs.

“just came for some quiet between classes, didn’t expect to find you here though,” he shifts closer to you, his large, ringed hand falling on your thigh. “i’d be lying if i said i wasn’t happy i ran into you though.”

your eyes flit down to where his hand is resting on your bare thigh, the tension in the air thickening with each passing second. you give him a small smile, “well i’m glad you ran into me too, it’s always nice being around you.”

rafe grins, his hand tightening on your thigh before he pulls back. you frown at the loss of his touch, but you quickly mask it, not wanting to seem desperate for his attention. this is all a plan, you and rafe will never be anything more than a one night stand.

rafe clears his throat after a beat of awkward silence, “so i’ve been meaning to text you, but i’ve just been busy… this is better though, asking you in person i mean.”

your brow furrows, tilting your head to the side. ask you what?

“okay..” you say hesitantly. “what’d you wanna ask me?”

rafe pulls his backpack off his shoulder, setting it on the floor in front of him before unzipping it and pulling out a wrinkled flyer, passing it to you. “we’re having an end-of-the semester party is this weekend, i was wondering if you’d come?”

you study the paper in your hand, trying your best to stifle the smile wanting to break free. this is perfect. you can attach yourself to rafe’s side all night long, spencer would definitely see the two of you together, and then you can make sure he sees when you disappear upstairs together, because let’s be real… you weren’t planning on ending the night not sleeping with rafe.

your eyes finally lift, finding rafe’s sparkling blue ones. you nod your head slowly, “yeah, absolutely i’ll be there. can i bring a friend?”

a big smile takes over rafe’s face. “yeah, ‘course. bring whoever,” he zips his bag back up, standing from the chair he’s in and slinging one of the straps back over his shoulder, gripping it with his right hand. “see you saturday night, pretty girl.”

he winks at you before turning and disappearing out the library doors. you wait until you’re sure he’s gone before letting out a quiet squeal, grabbing your phone and snapping a picture of the flyer, opening your messages with your best friend before sending her a text.

you: *attachment: 1 image* oh my god, lex! rafe fucking cameron just invited me to the end-of-the semester party at his frat this weekend.. he said i could bring whoever, you in?

her reply comes in almost instantly.

lex: *lex hearted an image* ummmm. of course i’m fucking in, holy shit, babe! see i told you that you could pull this off. hurry back home, we need to start planning what to wear now!

—

three days later, saturday night.

“y/n, c’mon babe, we’re gonna be late.” lex groans, her knuckles tapping against your bathroom door again.

you laugh silently, checking your hair and makeup one final time before opening the door. lex’s hand hangs mid-air, her probably ready to knock again. you roll your eyes at her, “i’m coming i’m coming. isn’t that the point of these parties though? no one’s ever early or on time..”

lexi laughs, letting out a slow whistle after. “you’re right, but damn girl. rafe is not going to be able to keep his hands off you, you look sexy!”

you give her a small twirl, running your hands down the front of your tight black dress. you make your way past her, grabbing your heels before plopping onto your mattress and slipping them on your feet. you stand, grabbing your purse before slipping your phone and wallet inside.

turning to face lexi, you smile. “ready?”

“ready.” she repeats with a smile.

the two of you make your way down the stairs of your two-bedroom townhome, walking out the front door and to the sidewalk, waiting on the uber lexi ordered to arrive.

“so what’s the plan, ma? just gonna show up and attach yourself to rafe?”

you shake away the nerves you’re suddenly feeling, trying to clear your mind. this was going to be fine. a little alcohol, some flirting and touching, rafe would be putty in your hands.

“yeah.. i guess? i mean, what else can i do? if i’m just upfront about what i want he’d respect it more, right?”

lexi smiles. “right,” she pauses, looking down at her phone to check where the uber is. “almost here. but, back on the rafe subject, you’re hot, and you’re single, and from word around campus, rafe isn’t one to deny a pretty girl on his arm for the night. it’ll be fine! and bonus points, that jackass spencer will be there and he’ll be furious seeing you two together. plan ‘get back at spencer for being a cheating prick’ is going to be a success!”

you smile, opening your mouth to respond when a black nissan altima pulls up to the curb. the window rolls down. “for lexi adams?”

lexi smiles, grabbing your hand and opening the back door, pulling you inside the car. the driver pulls away from the curb, asking for the address.

—

the drive is only about fifteen minutes, the uber pulling up to the front of the frat house and letting the two of you out. you grip lexi’s hand in yours, sucking in a deep breath and exhaling it slowly before the two of you begin walking toward the front door.

two brothers stand outside the door, “names?” one of them asks.

you look over at lexi, your eyes slightly narrowed in a ‘is he serious’ type of way. you shake your head, looking back at the man who’d asked your names before responding, “y/n y/l/n… and this is my best friend, lexi adams…”

the two look at each other, almost like they’re contemplating letting you in. this is fucking ridiculous, it’s a frat party for christs sake, not a fucking vip section at a high dollar club.

you open your mouth to say that rafe cameron had invited you, but before you can even speak, rafe’s voice fills yours ears.

“you made it!” he says excitedly, squeezing between the two men outside the door, his hand gripping your free one. he turns to walk through the doors, but before he does he stops and whispers something to both of the men standing there. they both look up at you and lexi before putting their focus back on rafe, nodding their heads at whatever he said.

rafe drags you inside, lexi following closely behind as her hand is still holding one of yours. the music inside beats loudly throughout the house, vibrating off the walls and floors and rafe pulls you into the open living space.

he pulls you toward a table lined with various liquor bottles and beer, stopping and releasing your hand. you and lexi stand side by side, staring at rafe as he smiles. “whatcha drinkin’ tonight?” he shouts over the music.

you eye the various bottles of liquor, mixers and beers. you finally settle on a malibu and coke, lexi settling for a vodka cran. rafe quickly makes both drinks, passing them to you and lexi before slinging an arm around your waist, pulling you into his side with a smile.

the three of you walk around the house, squeezing through crowds of people and watching as partygoers dance or partake in intense games of beer pong and flip cup at the various tables spread throughout the house. rafe finally reaches a small group sitting on a few couches, his hand gripping yours as he plops onto the couch, pulling you with him and into his lap. butterflies erupt in your stomach when his free hand snakes its way around your waist, resting flat on your lower stomach.

you rest your back against his chest, leisurely sipping on your mixed drink. rafe leans in close, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he whispers, “you look fucking sexy tonight.”

your cheeks heat up, biting softly at the rim of your cup before bringing it down. you lean forward to set it on the table in front of you, leaning back and turning your neck toward him to thank him. you barely finish your sentence before a familiar and unwelcome voice fills your ears.

“well isn’t this fucking cozy,” spencer says, anger and jealousy lacing his tone. “y/n… what the fuck are you doing?” he scoffs, letting out a dark laugh before he speaks again. “better yet, what the fuck are you doing, cameron? that’s my ex girlfriend. why the fuck is she here and in your lap no less?”

rafe breathes out an annoyed sigh. his thumb rubs gently at your stomach through your dress, his large hands gripping your hips and lifting you off his lap, setting you on the couch and standing. he steps into spencer’s chest, his voice low and demanding as he speaks. “last i checked, i’m the fucking president of this frat house, and i can have whoever the fuck i want here…” he gives spencer a one up, laughing before tapping his cheek and stepping back. “also… didn’t you cheat on her? with vanessa walsh? a shame, really, spence. vanessa is a major downgrade compared to y/n here.” he says, his right hand gesturing back at you.

spencer’s lips part, an annoyed and irritated expression on his face. he rolls his eyes, letting a slow smile take over his lips. “okay. have fun, she’s a fucking prude bitch anyways.”

you gasp and lexi moves to stand but you grip her wrist, pulling her back down. your eyes flit around, taking in the expressions of everyone sitting around you. there’s a lot of shock, a lot of excitement, and some people just blankly watch the interaction. lexi scoots closer to you, gluing herself to your side, resting her head on your shoulder. “fuck him, babe. you’re not a prude, he’s just a prick.”

rafe presses his tongue into his cheek, nodding his head slowly. he turns to face you, his eyes softening when they meet yours. “i’m sorry.” he says softly.

but before you can even respond, he’s turning back to face spencer, his hand clenched in a fist by his side rising and connecting with spencer’s jaw. the party grows silent, people gasping, some shouting praises at rafe, and others concerned for spencer.

“what the fuck, man?” spencer shouts, his jaw moving side to side as he moves to cup it in his hand.

rafe steps into him again, gripping him by the front of his shirt and pulling him into him, “don’t you ever. fucking talk about her that way again. understand?”

spencer tries to speak but rafe shoves him back, the force knocking spencer onto his ass. rafe turns to face you, holding his hand out for you to take. you do, placing your hand in his and letting him lift you up from the couch. his eyes go to lexi, “i’m gonna just borrow her for a moment, yeah? i’ll have my best friend topper come sit with you, keep you company. i promise he’s a good guy.”

lexi smiles, waving her hand through the air. “don’t worry about me, cameron. you take all the time you need with my girl,” she pauses, her smile dropping off her face. “but if you hurt her, i’ll be forced to hunt you down…”

rafe smiles, letting his head fall as he laughs. “got it, boss. she’ll be taken care of.”

lexi gives him a nod, and rafe drags you away. spencer’s eyes are burning into the two of you, but you couldn’t care less. you know what your next move is now, that is, if rafe’s okay with it. rafe stops near a staircase, talking to a blonde boy who you’re assuming is topper. topper glances at you, then over to the area you just were before nodding and pushing his body off the stairs, he stops to give you a gentle smile, “don’t worry, i’ll make sure your friend is good.” you thank him, and then rafe continues to pull you up the stairs once topper disappears into the crowd of bodies.

he pulls you down a long hallway, making it to a door at the very end of the hall. he digs into his back pocket, pulling out a set of keys and sifting through them before landing on the one he needs. he quickly unlocks the door, pushing it open and pulling you inside before he’s shutting it and locking it back. you take in the room you’re in, a queen sized mattress on a metal frame sits against one wall, a long dresser against the other. he has a desk pushed against one wall, his laptop, business textbooks, and a small lamp sat on top of it. he has a small closet in the room, the doors slightly open and revealing the rack that’s stuffed full with clothes. you grin, taking in the rather bare walls, give for a few pictures of him and friends and some sports posters.

“cute.” you say softly, running your fingers along the length of his dresser. you gasp when rafe’s hands snake around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder. “you okay?” he asks, the feel of his breath on your skin sending goosebumps up your arms. you turn to face him, your ass pressed into the dresser as rafe steps further into you.

your eyes find his, dropping down to his lips and back up again. “yeah.. i’m perfectly fine.”

the tension in the room thickens, buzzing through your body like electricity. rafe’s eyes drop to your lips and continue their descent down your body before slowly dragging back up and stopping on your lips again.

“rafe i-” you begin, but his lips crashing against yours has the words dying on your tongue, a moan escaping you instead.

rafe slips his tongue into your mouth, tangling it with yours as his hands run up and down the sides of your body. he drags his hands up your sides, all the way up to your face. he firmly cups your cheeks, kissing you like he’s trying to steal your air for himself.

he backs the two of you toward the desk that sits against a far wall in his room, his lips never leaving yours, hands gliding down your sides. he reaches your thighs, gripping at them tightly and lifting you up onto the desk. your hands find his face, pulling him further into you, tongues tangling and teeth clashing before he pulls away breathless. his blue eyes search yours, your heart tugging in your chest at the deep pools of blue burning into your face.

rafe’s lips tilt up in a slight smile, his fingers lazily running along your thigh. “tell me what you want.” he rasped, his eyes never leaving yours.

your chest heaves as you try and catch your breath, and your voice comes out slightly shaky as you say, “you.”

the one word was all rafe needed to hear, his fingers gripping the bottom of his shirt and pulling it over his head. he tosses it to the floor before he’s kissing you again, his hands roaming every inch of your body through your dress. his hands run up your thighs, disappearing under your dress. he runs his fingers along the crease of your thigh, toying with your thong, a small groan escaping him.

you push him off you, his lips detaching from yours, strings of spit pulling and attached to both of your lips. he eyes you curiously. “you okay?” he says slowly.

you smile. “yeah. perfect. i just.. i have one request.”

the corner of his lips tip slightly, head cocked to the side. “yeah, yeah what’s up?”

“can we,” you pause, laughing and shaking your head because you’re afraid he might find you ridiculous for even asking. he barely knows you. you shake away the nerves, continuing with your thoughts anyways. “can we record us? i just.. i want to get back at spencer… i know it’s stupid and i have nothing to prove but-”

rafe cuts you off with his lips on yours, kissing you softly and slowly. he finally breaks away, gripping your face in his hands. “shut up. it’s not stupid, i get it and i’m down. i’ve grown sick of spencer’s shit, so this’ll be fun.”

you smile, a wide genuine smile as you softly push him back. hopping off his desk, you kick your heels off your feet before gripping the hem of your dress and pulling it over your head. you stand in front of rafe, in nothing but a black lace thong and bra. his eyes widen as he takes in your body, his bottom lip brought between his teeth. “goddamn… he cheated on you? fucking idiot…”

you laugh, looking for your phone and frowning when you realize you’d left it downstairs with lexi. “shit.. i left my phone downstairs with lex.”

rafe chuckles, moving past you and toward his nightstand. he grabs his phone off the top, opening his camera app and switching it to video mode. he starts the video, setting the phone up on his desk, a perfect view of his bed on the screen. “done.” rafe breathes, stepping back, turning and gripping your hips again.

he lifts you into his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist as he kisses you harshly again. you moan against his lips, grinding yourself against him. rafe groans, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth before he releases it with a messy pop. he drops you onto his mattress, watching as your hair fans out around you. “you’re so fucking beautiful, you know that?”

a blush heats your cheeks and you eyes watch him intently as he begins stripping himself of his khakis and boxers. he stands before you, completely naked, his long and thick cock bobbing in the air. you begin salivating at the sight of him. your hand reaches out, hesitantly wrapping it around his thick length. rafe groans, his head thrown back as your name leaves his lips on a breathless whisper.

you begin stroking him slowly, running your hand from the base to the tip, squeezing at his smooth, pink head. precum drips from the slit of his dick, and you quickly dart your tongue out, running it along the slit to catch it, the taste of him exploding on your tastebuds has you moaning. you drop him from your hand and rafe steps back, grabbing his phone and switching it to the back camera. he fists your hair tightly, wrapping your loose strands around his hand once, twice before tugging your head up. your eyes stare into the camera lense, his next words coming out harsh and breathless.

“suck my cock, pretty girl. go on, show me how good you are at swallowing dick.”

you bite your bottom lip, smiling up at him. your eyes never leave the camera lense as your tongue darts out, licking up the bottom of his shaft. your tongue continues its teasing motions, tracing the vein that runs up the bottom of his thick cock, all the way up to his swollen and leaking tip. you wrap your lips around him, sucking at him softly before pushing him completely down your throat.

“oh shit… that’s it pretty girl… just like that.” rafe groans, his hand holding the camera lowering, capturing every second of your mouth working at his dick. the hand that fists your hair tightens, holding you in place as he begins thrusting his hips, brutally fucking himself down your throat. the room is filled with your slurps and gags, rafe’s groans also bouncing off the walls. your clit pulses in sync with his dick, throbbing and twitching inside your mouth before he’s roughly pulling himself back.

he breathes heavily, letting out a breathless laugh. “jesus, i almost came too soon.”

rafe moves and sets his phone back up on the desk, making sure it’s perfectly positioned on his bed before he’s walking toward you. he flips you onto your back again, crawling on top of you and kissing your lips hard. he pulls his lips from yours, pushing up with his hands and pulling at the cups of your bra, letting your tits spill out. he groans at the sight of them. his lips wrap around a nipple, sucking and biting at it before he switches to the other, giving it the same attention. he finally pulls back, blowing on your nipples, the cool air making them tighten more.

his fingers run down the length of your stomach, stopping once he reaches the waistband of your panties. he slowly pushes them down, your ass lifting to help him get them off. his eyes find your glistening pussy, a slow exhale escaping his lips. “fuck… you’re so wet…”

he leans over, opening the top drawer of his nightstand and pulling out a condom. he rips the packet open with his teeth, pulling out the lubricated condom before he’s slowly dragging it down his length. your chest heaves, eyes watching him as he grips himself in his hand, slowly lining himself up with your soaked entrance. “gonna feel so fuckin’ good… you ready?”

you give him a small nod, breathing out an “mhmm” before rafe slowly pushes his tip inside you. your hands wrap around his neck, nails digging into the skin of his back and dragging down as he slowly pushes more of himself inside you.

the two of you moan in unison when he bottoms out inside you, “fuck you feel so good..” rafe groans, his body unmoving as he lets you adjust to his size. you play with the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling his head down and kissing him, teeth nipping at his bottom lip.

“rafe… please? please fuck me.” you beg him, and he groans.

“yes ma’am.” is all he says before he’s slowly dragging out and slamming back inside. his hips start a quick pace, moving in and out of you harshly, his tip hitting a spot inside you that had your toes curling and bright white light blinding your vision.

you moan his name, loudly crying out and your fingers tug at his hair, scratch at his back, gripping onto any part of him you can as he brutally fucks himself inside you.

“mmmm you’re so fuckin’ wet and tight, i feel that sweet pussy gripping ‘round me, pretty girl… you gonna cum f’me? want you to make a fuckin’ mess on my cock.”

your pussy flutters around him, a moan of his name spilling past your lips as you squeeze your eyes shut. the first orgasm hits you hard, your body tensing, legs shaking as you come undone around him. rafe smiles, quickly pulling himself out of you and flipping you onto your stomach. he lifts your ass into the air, giving it a harsh smack before he’s climbing off the bed, grabbing his phone and making his way back to you.

he points the camera in your face, groaning as he says “look at that pretty face… look so damn beautiful after you’ve cum around my cock baby.”

you give the camera a lazy smile, your eyes fluttering shut when he pushes himself back inside you from behind this time. he pulls the camera away from your face, focusing it on where his dick disappears inside your soaked cunt. he lowers the camera, capturing every detail of your pussy gripping his cock. “goddamn.. look how good she squeezes my dick. never seen anything more fuckin’ sexy.”

he pulls the camera back up, holding it up with one hand as his free hand grabs onto your hip. he begins pounding inside you again, reveling in the sweet noises he pulled from you with each thrust of his hips. your pussy clenches down around him again, squeezing him tightly and he lets out a strangled moan. “fuck baby, you gonna cum again?” he teases, his hand that’s holding your hip releasing it, landing a harsh smack to your ass again.

a loud cry is pulled from you as your second orgasm washes over you, this one dragging out and lasting longer than the first. rafe never lets up, his pace never faltering. he fucks himself into you, helping you ride out your high. once you come down, he’s pulling out again, setting the phone back up and lifting you into his arms. his hands hold the underside of your ass and he backs you into a wall, kissing you hard, his tongue tangling with yours as he grips his dick again, shoving himself inside you again. the new position coupled with the ways he’s holding you, his hands moving your hips up and down his length and the sensitivity from your previous two orgasms already has you seeing stars.

“that’s it baby, taking my cock so fucking well.”

your vision blurs, nothing but white light blinding you as your pussy clenches around him again. rafe’s dick twitches inside you, a strangled “fuck” and call of your name falling from him as he slams you down one final time. he holds you in place, your body shaking in his hold as you cum around him and he empties himself inside the condom.

once the two of you come down from your highs, rafe kisses your lips softly, “did so fucking good, so good baby. you’re such a good girl.”

you smile at him softly, your body fucked out and exhausted but your mind still floating on cloud nine from the three orgasms he’s drawn out of you. rafe slips himself from inside you, laying you in his bed and covering you up before grabbing his phone and stopping the video. he discards the condom in the trash, climbing into his bed with you and wrapping his arms around your body, pulling your sleeping figure into him and kissing the top of your head.

quickly opening his texts, he finds spencer’s contact and sends a quick text.

rafe: *attachment 1 video* don’t worry bro, she’s taken care of now. you’re stupid as fuck for letting this one go.

once he sends the video he smiles to himself, moving the video to a private folder for himself before locking his phone and laying down with you. he nuzzles his face into your neck, leaving soft kisses as he whispers, “don’t worry pretty girl. you’re mine now, and i’ll make sure you’re taken care of.”

tagging some moots: @quinnsbabygirl @rafesthroatbaby @nemesyaaa @maybejj @sarahsangelicdoll @rafesheaven @rafescvntyclubgf @dementedkittenribbon @hauntedfawnn @memoirofasparklemuff1n @rafesbabygirlx @cherrygirlfriend @maybanksangel @jjsbaby @jjslaybank @littlelamy

#*ೃ༄ my works #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fanfiction #frat!rafe #rafe cameron x you #rafe x reader #rafe x you #rafe smut #rafe fanfiction #rafe fic

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syluslnd · 2 days ago

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Hooray!! Your request are open again 🎉🎉 I absolutely adore your works. It's a chef kiss 😩🤌

Anyway, my request is Sylus bought a cabin in the woods to surprise reader. Just for two things, first reader really needs a break because she's been working way too much. And two, Sylus wants to "make love" with her and to hear her scream.

(Go crazy on how you want to write it. Thank you! I hope you understand what I mean right 😉😉)

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

The drive through the woods had been long but the moment you arrived, you understood why Sylus had kept this place a secret.

The house was beautiful-elegant yet secluded, nestled deep in the forest where no one else could reach. Tall windows framed the landscape, letting in the golden glow of the evening sun. Everything was silent except for the faint rustling of trees, the scent of pine and fresh air filling your lungs.

"Sylus this is... incredible" you murmured, stepping through the grand entrance. The floors gleamed under the soft lighting and everything about the interior screamed luxurious, carefully curated and undeniably intentional.

Sylus shut the door behind you, his presence unmistakable even before he spoke. "I knew you'd like it" he said, his voice smooth as he stepped closer. "A private getaway,just for us."

There was something in his tone— something knowing.

You didn't catch onto it at first, too mesmerized by the sheer elegance of the space. But then, your eyes caught something unexpected. Rose petals.

Scattered along the pristine floor, creating a path deeper into the house.

Your breath hitched slightly.

Sylus smirked, clearly noticing your reaction.

"Go on sweetie" he murmured, nudging you forward.

"Follow them."

Your heart pounded as you slowly walked down the petal-covered path, leading you toward what you now realized was a bedroom.

And that's when it clicked.

This wasn't just a getaway.

It was his plan all along.

The bedroom was breathtaking-grand, with a massive bed draped in silk sheets. But what truly made you pause were the other details— a blindfold resting on the pillows, delicate ropes placed neatly on the bedside table and a selection of items you couldn't even process all at once.

Your entire body flushed with heat.

"You planned this" you accused softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Sylus finally stepped in behind you, his hands settling on your waist, his breath warm against your ear. "Of course I did" he said, his voice dripping with satisfaction.

"Did you really think I brought you all the way out here just for the scenery?"

You swallowed, heat curling in your stomach as he slowly turned you around to face him.

His crimson eyes held that unmistakable glint-the one that told you there was no escaping whatever he had in store.

"You're being quiet" Sylus teased, tilting his head as he studied your flustered expression. "Shy all of a sudden?"

You opened your mouth to protest but Sylus simply took control before you could even attempt to regain composure.

He took your chin between his fingers, tilting your face up to meet his intense gaze. "No need to act innocent now” he murmured.

"You know exactly what this is."

His other hand trailed down your arm, his fingertips brushing over your skin in a way that made you shiver.

"Sylus..." you started, your voice breathy, unsure whether you were trying to object or encourage him.

His smirk deepened. "That's not a no" he mused.

Before you could speak again, he lifted you effortlessly, carrying you toward the bed like you weighed nothing. Your heart pounded as he placed you down onto the silk sheets, his figure towering over you.

His hands moved with purpose-tracing down your arms, reaching for the soft ropes he had so meticulously prepared on the table next to the bed. "I think" he mused, his voice laced with amusement,

"that it's about time I show you just how much fun we're going to have in this little hideaway."

Your breath hitched as he reached for the blindfold, his touch slow and deliberate.

"Be good for me” he murmured, voice dark with promise.

And then, just like that, control slipped from your hands entirely.

The silk of the blindfold pressed against your skin, shrouding your world in darkness. Your breath came slow and uneven, heart hammering in anticipation as Sylus secured it in place.

Then—a click.

Something cold slipped around your wrist.

Metal.

You flinched slightly at the sensation, instinctively tugging but your movement was met with resistance.

Handcuffs.

A soft, breathy giggle escaped you—a nervous reaction you hadn't meant to let out.

Sylus chuckled darkly in response. "That was a cute sound” he mused. "Are you nervous already?"

You swallowed hard, unsure whether to answer. Not that it mattered. He already knew.

Your other wrist met the same fate—a second click, binding you completely. The cold bite of metal against your skin was a stark contrast to the heat pooling in your stomach.

Sylus took his time adjusting the cuffs, making sure they were snug but not painful.

Purposeful. Precise. He wanted you to feel every ounce of control he had over you.

"You trust me, don't you?" he murmured.

His tone was dangerous-not in a way that suggested harm, but in a way that warned you. You belonged to him now, and he was going to remind you of that in ways you couldn't yet fathom.

You nodded slowly.

His fingers trailed down your arm, the barest whisper of touch, leaving goosebumps in their wake. "Good” he praised, his voice smooth as silk. "Then don't fight me."

Your breath caught as the mattress dipped he was leaning over you now, his presence all-consuming.

Then-something else.

Something soft but sturdy brushed against your thigh. Fabric?

The sound of something unrolling reached your ears before you felt it.

Silk restraints.

A sharp inhale escaped you as he secured one to your ankle. His fingers grazed your skin, lingering longer than necessary, teasing, making sure you felt every moment of your surrender.

He took his time. Meticulous. Unhurried. In control.

"You're awfully quiet now" Sylus murmured, his voice filled with dark amusement.

"Where's that little attitude of yours?"

Your lips parted but before you could say a word, he did something unexpected.

A soft, cool sensation trailed across your collarbone, lower, lower

ice

you don’t know where he got it from,if it was his evol or if he had those specifically chilled and ready for you there,like it was his plan all along

everything perfectly calculated for you

A shiver wracked through your body as Sylus dragged the melting cube along your skin, tracing slow patterns, watching your every reaction. The contrast of cold against heat made you gasp, your back arching involuntarily.

He hummed in approval.

"You're too sensitive" he teased, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "I like that."

He let the ice melt a bit against your skin before pressing his lips to your collarbone , replacing the sting of cold with the warmth of his mouth.

You sucked in a sharp breath, bound, blindfolded and completely at his mercy only intensified everything

Sylus chuckled softly, fingers trailing dangerously close to where he knew you wanted his touch the most-but deliberately avoiding it.

"You're mine" he murmured, his voice dark with possession. "and I think it's about time you start understanding what that truly means."

And with that, the real torment began.

he placed the ice on your stomach

the ice was melting, sending thin rivulets of cold water down your skin, yet Sylus took his time. Dragging. Teasing. Lingering.

"You're shaking”he murmured, amusement thick in his voice. "Too cold? Or is this little girl just too sensitive?"

You didn't answer but your breath hitched as he traced the ice lower, skimming along your ribs. The contrast of frigid cold against your overheated skin made your entire body tense but you couldn’t move-not with his silk restraints keeping you exactly where he wanted you.

Sylus hummed in satisfaction. "So reactive” he mused. "You weren't this quiet earlier."

Your lips parted but before you could protest, he did something cruel.

The ice cube-nearly gone now-dragged over the softest part of your stomach,near your bellybutton making you jerk against the restraints.

A sharp inhale escaped you and Sylus laughed.

"Look at you" he mocked, shifting to brush his lips against your ear, his voice nothing but a dark whisper. "So helpless. So at my mercy."

Your pulse thundered beneath your skin.

Then, he did it again—a deliberate, icy stroke into your bellybutton, followed by the sudden, searing warmth of his tongue as he chased away the cold.

You whimpered, the combination almost unbearable.

"Poor thing" Sylus crooned, his voice dripping with fake sympathy. "Did that feel too good?"

You turned your head away, refusing to answer but that only made his smirk sharpen.

"Oh?" He chuckled, pressing a teasing kiss to the edge of your jaw. "You're trying to be defiant now? How adorable."

You felt his fingers skim along your side near your ribs, featherlight, teasing you without ever giving you what you truly craved.

"Don't pout” he murmured. "You should've known what would happen the moment you let me tie you up, sweetheart."

His hand drifted lower, fingertips just barely grazing the inside of your thigh before pulling away. You shivered-from the loss, from the anticipation, from the overwhelming awareness that he was in complete control.

"You want more, don't you?" Sylus whispered. "I can hear it in your breathing."

You swallowed hard, heart pounding in your ears.

His hand returned, this time squeezing your thigh firmly, his nails grazing your skin.

"Beg” he ordered, voice smooth but commanding. "Or l'll leave you here like this, desperate and untouched."

Your breath hitched—the threat wasn't empty.

Sylus never bluffed.

You knew that if you refused, he'd make good on his word and leave you aching, craving, unsatisfied.

'Please” you whispered, barely audible.

Sylus tilted his head. "That was pathetic" he drawled. "You can do better than that."

You clenched your jaw, heat rushing to your face.

Sylus smirked, leaning in until his lips brushed against your ear. "Beg. Properly."

Your stomach twisted in both humiliation and desire. He was enjoying this— stretching the moment, testing you, making you surrender inch by inch.

"Please, Sylus" you finally said, voice unsteady.

His fingers dug into your thigh, just enough to make you gasp.

"Good girl" he murmured, satisfaction lacing his tone. "Now let's see how much more you can take."

And with that, the ice drifted even lower.

Sylus held the last sliver of melting ice between his fingers, tilting his head as he watched you. Bound, blindfolded, completely at his mercy-just the way he liked you.

You shivered, not just from the cold but from the sheer anticipation.

"You're trembling” he mused, his tone dripping with satisfaction. "Are you scared?

Or just that sensitive?"

You bit your lip, refusing to answer.

Sylus chuckled darkly. "Still trying to act defiant? That's cute."

You gasped as he suddenly pressed the ice against your pussy, the shock of cold making you jerk against the restraints.

"Careful" he warned, his grip tightening around your leg, keeping you still. "Unless you want me to punish you for squirming."

The ice dragged upward, inch by torturous inch. Too slow. Too deliberate.

Too much.

Your breath hitched as he reached your clit, lingering there just to watch you squirm.

Sylus hummed in amusement. "You're shaking so much” he teased. "and I haven't even started."

He traced slow, agonizing circles with the ice, making sure the chill seeped into your skin, making you hyperaware of every movement.

Then-he pressed his lips directly on your clit,leaving slow warm kisses

The sudden warmth of his mouth contrasted sharply with the lingering cold, making you gasp.

Sylus chuckled against your pussy, his breath sending shivers down your spine.

"Poor thing" he mocked, nipping at your thigh. "I bet you don't even know whether to pull away or beg for more."

You whimpered, your body betraying you.

His free hand traced lazily over your other thigh, nails grazing just enough to make your breath catch.

"You're so responsive” he mused, almost to himself. "Every little touch, every little tease and you're already falling apart."

He pressed the last remnant of ice directly against your clit all while leaving slimy deliberate kisses on your inner thigh

Your whole body tensed, a choked gasp slipping past your lips.

Sylus smirked, watching you struggle. "You want me to stop?" he asked, a mockery of concern in his voice. "Or do you want more?"

You hesitated—a mistake.

Sylus clicked his tongue. "Ah. I see."

Before you could react, he pressed the ice even deeper this time,no longer harassing your clit but now sending shockwaves of cold to the inside of your warm vagina

The melting water dripped, sending chills through your already overstimulated nerves.

You jerked, instinctively trying to close your legs-but Sylus's iron grip stopped you.

"Ah, ah” he murmured, spreading you wider instead. "No running now, sweetheart."

You whimpered, your body betraying you again.

Sylus leaned in, lips grazing your ear. "You should know by now” he murmured, voice dark with amusement. "I don't stop until I'm satisfied."

#love and deepspace #lnds sylus #love and deepspace sylus #l&ds sylus #lads sylus #sylus #sylus x reader #sylus x you

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