#Sunglasses on Golf Course

[ares857]

internet find

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[itneverendshere]

we say we’re different but we got the same eyes - r.c

pairing: bitchy!pogue!reader x rafe

you needed to stop taking other people shift’s. 

it’s not like you wanted to, but at least they were paying you to do so, enough to let you actually chill this summer without stressing about rent or whatever else adulthood decided to throw at you.

all you had to do was show up and do the job. first at lila’s dinner, now at the bougie country club, as a cart girl.

you’d done this before, and sure, the old men were always a little too handsy with their beer guts hanging over their tacky polos, but at least they tipped well. you could tolerate them. smile, giggle at their half-assed jokes, and let them feel like they still had it. 

fine. pay me for my pain, grandpa. 

today however, instead of your usual sugar-daddy wannabes, you were babysitting frat boys. fresh out of their first year of college, probably still hungover from their last keg stand.

nineteen-year-old idiots in pastel shorts and backwards hats, making everything about themselves.

“bro, you remember that party at kappa? dude, swear i blacked out after like, five shots.”

wow, five whole shots? congrats, you absolute child. should i get you a sticker for that?

don’t even get started on their conversations about girls. one of them, chad or brad or whatever his stupid name was, just had to loudly detail how some poor innocent girl “totally wanted him last night but was playing hard to get.”

yeah, bro, she was probably just trying to get through the night without having to mace your entitled ass.

it was constant. the whole damn morning. all they talked about was frat parties, girls they didn’t deserve, and how they "couldn’t wait to get back to school."

you'd give anything to remind them how utterly irrelevant their frat status was in the real world, but you couldn’t. nope. you had to keep your game face on, pour their drinks, and pretend like they weren’t giving you a headache that rivaled your worst hangovers.

at least the elderly snobs tipped well. sure, they were pretentious and acted like you were beneath them, but they'd slip you a twenty or more with a smug little wink. that made it easier to tolerate their "i’ve been golfing here since before you were born" bullshit.

but these brats?

half the time they forgot to tip at all, and when they did remember, it was a crumpled five like they were doing you some grand favor. and of course, of course, they couldn’t just keep their obnoxious, beer-breath comments to themselves. no, they had to make it worse by hitting on you—hard. 

painfully hard. it was like watching a car crash in slow motion, except instead of pulling over to help, you were stuck right in the middle, praying someone would just tow your ass out.

“yo, what’s your name again?” one of them asks. bryce, probably. his face just screams bryce.

he's leaning against the cart like he thinks it's going to make him look cool, but really, he’s just sloshing his drink all over the place. classy.

“it’s on my name tag,” you deadpan, pointing to the little badge pinned to your polo. you're not about to give him any more than that.

but he's not letting it go. “oh yeah? cute name for a cute girl. you single or what?”

jesus christ. here we go.

you resist the urge to roll your eyes so hard they’d get stuck in the back of your head. 

“’m here to work,” you sigh, voice sweet enough to mask the absolute disdain you're feeling. you know what comes next.

they always think they can charm you if they just keep going, like you are some kind of challenge.

“c’mon, don’t be like that,” another one chimes in, this one wearing sunglasses even though it's barely 9 a.m.

who do you think you are, pitbull? 

he gives you this sleazy grin like he thinks he's smoother than he actually is. “we could take you out after your shift. grab a drink. bet you’re fun, huh?”

fun? FUN?! if by fun he means fantasizing about driving this cart straight into the water hazard just to escape this conversation, then sure, you're a real blast.

you look around the course, hoping maybe one of the older golfers needs a refill or something—anything to get you away from this nightmare. no luck. it's just you and these clowns.

“i don’t date customers,” you say, a line you’d perfected at this point.

you plaster on your fakest smile, the kind that said please tip me and then leave me the hell alone. but bryce wasn’t giving up.

“you’re really gonna turn us down? i mean, we’re the best thing on this course right now.”

best thing?

the only thing they're the best at seems to be embarrassing themselves. this is the type of guy who probably thinks buying a girl a drink meant she owns him something.

you can't even be mad; it's almost... sad. almost.

“maybe you should focus on your game,” you suggest, glancing at his scorecard. “you’re, what, ten over par already?”

that shuts him up real quick, his face going from cocky to confused like he didn't expect you to know how golf worked.

his friend with the sunglasses? he's still trying.

���we can show you a good time, y’know. we’ve got a house down on the beach. you like boats?”

ah, yes. the boat move. the go-to for guys who think a half-assed yacht and a cooler full of cheap beer is the height of luxury.

you’d seen it a million times in this godforsaken town.

you're not impressed.

you shoot them another smile, “i like tips.”

they all blink confusedly, clearly not used to a girl calling them out so directly. the frat boys mumble something between themselves, looking awkward for the first time all day.

finally, one of them fishes a crumpled twenty out of his pocket and tosses it your way. 

oh, wow, big spender. 

you scoop it up, shoving it into your pocket and giving them a little nod. “thanks, boys. good luck with your game.”

you thought the twenty bucks might’ve bought you a few minutes of peace, but no. they're back at it, swinging at golf balls like they aren't trying to flirt in between their awful shots.

you roll the cart over to the next part of the course, half-listening to their constant chatter.

something about “last semester” this, and “pledge party” that. god, they just never stop. it's like someone hit the repeat button on the world’s most annoying playlist.

one of them calls you over again, like he can't wait five minutes for his next drink. you start prepping them, half tuning them out, just trying to get through it, when suddenly, miraculously, they shut the hell up.

for a second, you think maybe the universe is finally doing you a favor. you don't even question it, just start pouring drinks faster.

a quiet frat boy is a gift. but then you hear it:

“dude!” one of them practically tackles the other, all wide-eyed and hyped up like a little kid who just saw his favorite cartoon character. “is that rafe fucking cameron?!”

oh, for fuck’s sake.

your stomach drops. of course it has to be him. because clearly, your morning isn't being shitty enough. you don't even look at first. 

one of the guys starts flipping out, hitting his buddy’s shoulder like it's the coolest thing to ever happen.

“bro, no way. no way. that’s rafe cameron? he used to be the president of our frat, man. two years ago! he’s a fucking legend!”

legend? you almost laugh.

the only legend rafe is to you it's a legendary asshole. a smug, infuriating, gorgeous asshole who you have been avoiding like the plague. the same one who has been blowing up your phone nonstop, trying to get back into your life.

the same one you swore down you’d never sleep with again after he pulled that stunt at the dinner—and then, of course, ended up in his bed two nights ago. you haven't spoken to him since. you’d been ignoring him again—well, trying to—but now here he is. in the flesh. and these idiots are drooling over him like he's some kind of frat god.

you turn your head, and he's striding across the green like he doesn't have a care in the world. of course he looks good. he always does.

wayfarer’s pushed up in his hair, that cocky-ass grin on his face, wearing a polo like he's the face of a country club catalog. you know he’d see you any second. hell, he probably already has. 

yeah, you’d been avoiding him, and yeah, maybe you’d blocked his number twice, but that didn’t stop him from calling with a different one. or from somehow finding you the other night at the party when you were weak enough to let him back in, only to get burned again.

“holy shit, he’s coming this way,” one of the frat boys mutters, shaking with excitement.

you don't move, don't acknowledge him. but you can feel his eyes on you. it's like a sixth sense at this point. you'd crave it so much before, when it was all a silly game in your head, see how much you could push until he cracked and gave into you. now it's a curse.

the boys are watching him approach like he's some kind of celebrity.

“should we say something to him?” one whispers. “i heard he’s like, killing it in the business world now. family’s loaded.”

yeah, you think bitterly. killing it. if you count being a trust fund brat as an accomplishment.

rafe's closer now, and you know this moment is inevitable. the frat boys are giddy, already nudging each other, probably ready to beg him for networking advice or whatever the hell frat bros did.

you keep your eyes down, focusing on pouring the drinks, acting like you don't even notice him. like he doesn't phase you in the slightest.

“hey,” a familiar voice drawls. you don't have to lift your head to know it's him. naturally, he stops right by you. because why wouldn’t he?

“rafe fucking cameron!” one of the guys yells, unable to keep it together anymore. “you’re like a legend, man. kappa forever!”

you never cringed so hard in your life.

rafe smirks, that signature look spreading across his face. “yeah, somethin' like that.”

you clench your jaw, forcing yourself to keep your face neutral. no way in hell are you about to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he still gets to you. 

everyone else around you are tripping over their words just to get his attention. it's embarrassing to watch. the kids acting like he's some kind of messiah, not just some white rich guy with a trust fund and a bad attitude half the time.

“man, the outer banks is fucking sick,” one of them says, bouncing on his feet like an overexcited puppy. “we’ve been hitting the beaches, bars, y’know, living it up. and bro, the girls here? smoking hot.”

here we go. 

you pretend to be very invested in the cooler, rearranging the ice just to keep your hands busy. they're about to start pointing at you any second now; you can sense it.

the way they keep looking over at you made it obvious they're gearing up for something.

and then, like clockwork, it happens.

“yeah, man,” one of them gestures way too enthusiastically in your direction. “that cart girl over there? we’ve been trying all morning.”

oh, fuck right off, you resist the urge to throw a bottle at him.

you’d rather die than hear what lame pickup line is coming next, but what you really don't want to hear is whatever rafe's about to say.

there was a pause, as if he's taking a second to let it sink in. and when he finally does speak, his voice is all smooth confidence, casual as anything.

“so,” he starts, still with smirk you hate and know so well, “you’ve met my girl?”

my girl? my fucking girl?

one of them, manages to stammer, “uh—wait, she’s… she’s your girl?”

you can feel the tension creeping up the back of your neck. this's exactly why you’ve been avoiding him.

no matter what happened between you, no matter how messy things got, he always acted like he owned you in private. never in front of his friends, like just because you ended up in his bed, you were his to claim whenever he felt like it.

still keeping your eyes glued to the drinks, you feel your blood boil. you aren't his fucking girl. you're barely on speaking terms, aside from that one weak moment.

he's only saying it to mess with you.

one of the frat boys lets out a low whistle, clearly impressed. “damn, man. didn’t know you were still pulling like that.” he shoots a glance at you again, not even bothering to hide the once-over.

rafe just chuckles, that low, infuriating laugh of his, like he knows exactly how to get under your skin. “what can i say?” he drawls, as if the whole thing is just a game to him. “guess i’ve still got it.”

you're this close—this close—to snapping. you can feel your fists clenching at your sides. you're not giving him the satisfaction of a reaction. not here. not in front of these frat boys who're still looking at you like some kind of trophy.

rafe’s voice is closer now. you don't have to look up to know he's standing right by the cart.

“you good over there?” he asks, that fake casual tone still lingering.

you don't answer. just kept doing your job, biting the inside of your cheek so hard it hurts. but he isn't going to let it go. he never did when he wanted to prove a point.

“hey, baby.” he greets you again, leaning in slightly. you can feel his eyes burning into the side of your face. “you gonna pretend you don’t know me now?”

you take a deep breath, finally turning to face him. he's standing way too close, sunglasses pushed up on his head, that stupid expression plastered across his face.

the frat boys are all watching, wide-eyed, like they just stumbled onto some kind of reality show drama.

“you’re funny, cameron.” the guys all exchange glances, clearly picking up on the tension but too dumb to understand it, “can you guys give us a minute?”

one of them pipes up with an awkward laugh, “wait, but we—”

you don't let him finish. “one. minute.” 

they finally catch on that it isn't a request and before they can awkwardly protest or ask why, rafe tilts his head towards them, craning his neck just enough to raise a single brow. the change in his posture is subtle but enough to have them clamming up instantly.

like magic, their frat-boy bravado melts right off. it's wild how fast a bunch of college boys can shrink under the gaze of someone like him.

the power trip they’ve been riding for the last hour stop.

“uh, yeah, you know what?” one of them coughs out, backing up so fast he almost trips over his golf bag. “we should, uh… we’ll hit the bathroom. real quick.”

“yeah, yeah, we’ll be right back,” another one adds, practically stumbling over himself to follow.

they scatter like scared puppies, tails tucked between their legs, and you can't help the small, satisfied smirk that twitches at the corner of your mouth.

finally, a moment of peace.

except, it's not peace. not with rafe standing there. 

as soon as the frat boys are out of earshot, you spin around, without thinking, you shove him in the chest with both hands, hard enough to catch him off guard. he stumbles back a step, his face twisting into a look of surprise.

"are you fucking crazy?" you snap, "do you not get the fucking hint, country club? i don’t want this. i don’t want you here, and i sure as hell don’t want your bullshit claims that ’m your girl in front of those idiots. leave. me. alone.”

he steadies himself, raising both hands as if trying to calm you down. “’m trying to be better, okay? ’m trying. i apologized the other night, didn’t i? ’m—”

“no, you didn’t!” you look at him like he's the dumbest man on earth, cutting him off, your hands balled into fists at your sides. “you didn’t apologize! you said i was overreacting, that i was being ‘dramatic.’ then, you fucked me and acted like that made it all better.”

his jaw tightens, and he takes a deep breath as he glances around the mostly empty golf course before his eyes move back to you, his voice low but firm. "that’s not how i meant it—"

“you always have an excuse,” you interrupt, stepping closer, not backing down. “every time, it’s the same thing. you think a half-assed apology or a night in bed makes up for the way you treat me in public? like ‘m just some thing you get to claim whenever you feel like it?"

he visibly recoils at the word you chose, like it hurts him, “i know,” he finally mutters “i know i was a dick at that dinner. but ’m trying, okay? i’ve been calling you, texting you—”

“i didn’t ask. am i that good in bed? go find someone else.”

rafe’s hand flies up to pinch the bridge of his nose, a frustrated sigh escaping him. he draggs his tongue against his cheek. his voice coming out clipped, “i don’t want someone else,” he grunts out, sounding more exasperated than ever. “jesus fucking christ.”

you let out a laugh, stepping back, eyes rolling.

“oh, right. that’s it? ’m really that good in bed, huh? that’s why you’re here?” you cross your arms, your tone biting, daring him to say otherwise. “that’s all this has ever been, right? physical. you don’t call unless you want something. so what now? why are you trying so hard? what the hell are you trying for?”

he doesn't respond right away, his fingers are digging into the bridge of his nose like he's trying to hold himself together. the silence continues, and you can see him wrestling with his words. he's never been the type to say what he was feeling.

everything is buried under layers of cocky bravado, that impenetrable wall he put up to keep everyone at arm’s length. including you.

finally, he dropps his hand and takes a step closer, his voice coming out rough like he's forcing the words out. “’m here because i don’t want someone else. i want you, alright? can you just get that through your fucking head?”

you scoff, “because i know you and won’t get attached?”

he snaps, raising his voice, “no! fuck, it’s not that simple.”

"not that simple?" your hands are shaking, and you accidentally knock over one of the bottles you’d been holding before, sending it tumbling to the ground. you don't bother picking it up.

“it’s pretty fucking simple. we’re just fucking. so, tell me, what exactly is complicated about that? you call, i come over, we have sex, and that’s it. so why the fuck do you start ignoring me in public like ’m some kind of fucking disease?”

rafe opens his mouth, but you don't spare him the chance to speak, you're on a roll, months of pent-up frustration. 

“i don’t give a fuck if you’re with someone else, rafe!” you can hear the bitterness dripping from every word. you're practically spitting them out, “what pisses me off is that you had the audacity—the fucking nerve—to ask me to stay that night. do you know how fucking stupid i felt? how the fuck do you think i felt when you acted like i didn’t exist the next day?”

you can feel your hands trembling again, the adrenaline making you shaky, cursing under your breath.

“for once, i was nice enough to care about you, to stay, and that’s the shit you pulled. treated me like a ghost. like i was nothing.”

he just stands there, staring at you, his jaw tight, but he doesn't say a word. his face is hard to read, but you don't care about his feelings. you're not done yet.

“i was fine with the sex. i was fine with leaving afterwards and then you had to go and fuck it all over.”

rafe’s blue eyes flash, and you can see the realization hit him, like he's connecting the dots too fast for your liking.

his brows furrow as he breathes out, “wait. you’re mad at me because i made you—” he hesitates, like the word is foreign in his mouth, “care for me?”

you let out a harsh, bitter laugh. “oh, for fuck's sake, country club. don't flatter yourself.”

“you always do that shit,” he points out, stepping closer “you never call me by my name when we’re having a serious conversation. it's almost like you’re running away.”

you arch an eyebrow, incredulous. “are you delusional? you’re the one acting like a child.”

“’m not being delusional. you only say my name in my room when it’s just the two of us.” he leans in slightly, lowering his voice as if he's trying to keep this moment between you, his blue eyes lock onto yours making your stomach twist. “’m clearly not the only one who’s pretending here; you’re just as bad.”

you feel the heat rush to your cheeks as you walk back, trying to create space, but he closes the distance with easy confidence.

“pretending? please. ‘m not the one playing house in my bedroom while acting like i don’t know you outside of it.”

rafe lets out a low, frustrated groan, running his hand through his hair like he's close to losing it. 

“god, you’re fucking infuriating,” he mutters, voice gruff, “you think i don’t fucking feel it too? you’re the only one pissed off, the only one confused?” his voice dipps lower in frustration. “i can’t stop thinking about you, no matter how hard i try. "

“oh, boo-fucking-hoo,” you mocked back, “must be so hard, huh? being obsessed with a girl you can’t even respect in public.”

his hand reaches out to grab your wrist. you gasp, not out of fear but because the heat of his touch awakes the resting butterflies in your stomach. you hate how much your skin reacts to him, how just the feel of his grip makes your brain go foggy and shut down.

“i do respect you,” he growls, as if you just insulted him, “i just—fuck.” his eyes dart between yours, as if searching for something. then, like clockwork, he points at your work uniform—the stupid polo and that absurdly short skirt that's practically a sin in itself.

“this,” he grits out, fingers gesturing to the tight polo that does absolutely nothing but make your boobs look way too inviting, “is not okay.”

you blink, pretending to be unaffected, but his words have a way of crawling under your skin.

“oh, right,” you nod sarcastically, even though your pulse has kicked up a notch. “blame my uniform, like that’s the reason you can’t keep your hands to yourself.”

rafe groans like you're causing him actual physical pain, his hands gripping the edge of the golf cart now, knuckles turning white.

“shit, yeah, i’ll blame the uniform,” he says, eyes blazing as he corners you. “that tiny-ass skirt, walking around in front of me all day, making me lose my goddamn mind.”

just like that, his hand slide right under your mini skirt, his fingers gripping a handful of your ass with a confidence that makes your breath hitch.

the sudden contact sends a rush of heat through you, and a soft gasp escapes your glossy lips.

that’s when he takes his chance.

with another low groan, rafe seizes the moment, pressing his body against yours, leaning down as he kisses you, his tongue sliding into your mouth, the kiss deepening in an instant.

it's not sweet—you can tell that now because you know that hidden part of him, you can tell the difference when it comes out. today he's desperate like he’s been waiting to it for days and can't take it anymore.

he's a starved man on a mission. it's a feverish mess of spit and teeth, his grip on you impossibly tight.

his hand still kneads your ass, blunt fingernails digging into your skin trying to keep you from bolting away. at the same time, his other hand slides up to your neck, firm but not enough to hurt, just enough to keep you locked in place—he's daring you to pull away, knowing full well you won't.

logic doesn't stand a chance against the way his lips move against yours, he's sucking all the fight from you.

his tongue slides against yours, and your stomach jumps at the sensation, making you gasp. you try to pull back for a second, needing air, needing space, but his grip on your neck tightens, holding you in place as his lips move against yours like he'll die if you stop.

and maybe he would. maybe he's just as messed up about all of this as you are.

rafe’s teeth scrape against your bottom lip, and right then and there, you know your panties are already ruined. you can't stop the small whimper that escapes your throat, and he moans at the sound, his hips pressing harder against yours, making you feel just how much he wants you.

“fuck,” he almost whines against your lips, like he's barely keeping himself from fucking you out there in the open, not giving a shit if anyone's watching. his hand on your neck glides around to the back of your head, tangling in your hair as he tuggs slightly, tilting your head back so he can kiss you even harder, his lips moving against yours in a way that makes it impossible to think straight. “you have no idea what you do to me.”

the truth is, you do. you know exactly what you do to him because he's doing the same thing to you.

but there's no way in hell you’ll admit that. not when he already has you completely under his spell, melting into his touch, drowning in the way he kisses you like he owns you.

you attempt to hold onto that edge of disdain you always throw his way when things get too personal. his breath is hot and ragged as he hovers.

his hand, still tangled in your hair, loosens slightly but stays there. it's so fucking unfair—the way he just sneaks under your skin, the way your body betrays you every time he gets close. you hate it.

especially with the way his fingers are already sliding up your bare thigh under that ridiculously skirt, as if he owns every single inch of you, like he has a goddamn right to touch you like that.

and instead of pushing him away like you should, you find yourself leaning into him. and fuck, the look in his eyes—all black, wild, like he it's his last shred of self-control—is enough to make your pulse skyrocket.

“asshole,” it comes out weak, pathetic and almost breathless, and you hate yourself for it.

“yeah,” he whispers back, lips brushing yours, his hand still in your hair, still holding you close. “but you like it.”

god, maybe you did.

the frat boys finally return, their laughter breaking the bubble that had you on a leash.

within seconds, you're pushing rafe’s hands away, stepping back as of them claps him on the back.

“we miss anything?”

“nah, just catchin’ up,” rafe said, brushing off the whole thing as if it's no big deal.

you, on the other hand, pick up one of the empty glasses, avoiding eye contact with any of them.

one of the guys chuckles. “man, you two… y’all good?”

no. not when there's the slightest of the slightest possibility that you're starting to feel something for him. not the stupid crush you had before, or the simple curiosity of figuring out how he was in bed. 

real, scary, big girl feelings. 

no way. not after everything. not after he pulled that same crap, acting like you didn’t know you in front of his friends, then turning around and getting all possessive when it suited him.

 “better than ever.”

eyes locked on rafe, you bite out the final blow.

“yeah, better than ever. just like every other fucking rich frat boy—using daddy’s money, pretending you’re a god. but deep down, you’re all the same. losers. why don’t you keep them company, huh? you’re all family after all.”

his blue eyes drop to the green field at the mention of his dad, but he keeps quiet despite realizing you’re doing this on purpose.

he’ll let you have this one because he knows it’s deserving. fuck he’d probably let you punch him in the face if you asked him to. 

you turn on your heel and walk away, leaving him behind, knowing you hit him exactly where it hurt.

[crushpunky]

actress!reader visits drew on the obx set

masterlist | actress!reader masterlist

Y/n gripped onto the golf cart as they pulled onto the property they were shooting on that day: a beach filled with kooks and pogues, all lounging about on the sand and floating on their surfboards in the soft lull of the ocean. They came to a halt, a short while back from where the cameras and crew sat, before continuing on foot.

“Y/n!” Madelyn whispered loudly, waving at y/n excitedly as they approached the set. Y/n smiled, waving back at her before settling underneath one of the umbrellas situated in the sand.

“Alright, Rafe and Sofia, action!” One of the directors shouted. Y/n’s eyes finally locked on who she had been thinking about the entire ride to the beach; there, with a pair of dark sunglasses perched on his nose, sat Drew. The sun glistened off of his skin and fresh buzz cut in a way that made y/n’s cheeks flush in the hot, Carolina sun.

“You should talk to her, Rafe.” Fiona, or rather Sofia, said, squinting to look up towards Drew. Drew ran a hand over his buzzed hair, a gruff-Rafe Cameron expression on his face.

“If she talks to me.” Drew said gruffly, slinging an arm around Fiona’s shoulders. She sunk into his side, resting her cheek on Drew’s broad chest. The two of them looked over past the camera where the Twinkie sat for a moment before turning to walk back towards the Jeep parked behind them. As they walked together through the sand, they talked to each other quietly, Fiona laughing as Drew pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

Drew was an actor, and a professional one at that, but something about seeing him be with someone else like that made all rational thinking leave y/n’s mind. She trusted him, of course, and she trusted Fiona… so why was she feeling so weird?

“Cut! That’s… good! We’re good! Thanks everyone.” The director shouted, the slew of extras letting out a holler. Drew removed his arm from Fiona’s shoulders, the two of them taking a measured step away from each other before turning back towards the camera. Once Drew’s eyes locked with her own, a huge grin broke out on his face. Nearly stumbling in the sand, Drew took off at a sprint straight towards y/n. Once he met her, he caught her in a hug, lifting her off her feet as he kissed her slowly.

Chase let out a holler, finally breaking the moment between the two of them as Drew sat y/n back onto the ground. He looked down at her, sliding his sunglasses on top of his head to look at her more clearly. The sun was reflecting beautifully off her skin, making her almost glisten in the salty air.

“Jesus I missed you so fucking much.” Drew groaned, pressing yet another kiss to y/n’s lips, causing her to grin.

“I haven’t seen him smile that much all week.” JD commented, causing Drew to roll his eyes as his cheeks turned a light pink.

“Sorry that I love my girlfriend.” Drew said with a cheeky grin, pulling y/n into his side. Y/n giggled, her arm snaking around Drew’s midsection comfortably.

“He’s not allowed to have any fun without me. None of you are.” Y/n teased, pointing between the cast playfully.

“You must be y/n?” A voice said from behind y/n and Drew, the two of them turning to see Fiona. Her hair was blowing softly in the wind, framing her tanned skin and perfect, glittering smile.

“Uh, yeah.” Y/n swallowed, her eyes stuck on the positively radiant girl in front of her. It’s not like she was “sizing her up” or anything, of course she knew she wasn’t competition, but something about her made her head spin. Could she even blame Drew if he liked this girl? I mean she was beautiful, talented, and had such a glowing presence to her…

“It’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.” Fiona grinned, glancing between y/n and Drew as she spoke. Drew nodded as y/n subconsciously pulled him closer to her.

“I’ve heard so much about you,” y/n said. “It’s a shame we didn’t cross paths when I was still hanging around this set.”

“Oh, you miss filming with these dumbasses?” Drew nudged y/n playfully, gesturing towards Chase and Rudy as they chased JD with a clump of some sort of sea moss.

“Maybe a little bit,” y/n looked up at Drew. “I definitely miss filming with you.”

“Well, Drew is a great friend and I’m so happy I got to meet the woman he talks about all the time.” Fiona said with one last smile and wave before heading off the beach. Y/n watched as she walked, stopping to any of the crew members or extras that looked her way, greeting each of them with the same bright smile and lively attitude.

“Hello?” Drew said, finally pulling y/n out of her own racing thoughts. She looked back towards him, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Hmm?” She hummed, causing a smirk to dance across Drew’s lips.

“Ahh, I see what it is.” Drew nodded to himself as the two of them walked towards the water.

“What?” Y/n asked.

“Nothing, nothing.” Drew shrugged, looking out at the waves as he lowered his sunglasses back down.

“What?” Y/n asked again, hitting Drew lightly with her hip. Drew dramatically stumbled to the side with a faux gasp before straightening himself back with a wide smile.

“Somebody is jealous.” Drew said with a small raise of his eyebrows.

“What?!” Y/n nearly shouted. “I am not—”

“Hey, it’s fine. I get it, it’s not… easy to see.” Drew looked down at her.

“I…” Y/n’s response fell as she tilted her head back with a groan of realization. Shit. Maybe he was right, maybe she was jealous. Yes, every rational part of her brain told her it was fine, it was just his job (hell, she had to do it too), but still that little part ate away at her…

“Hey, look at me,” Drew said, his hand slipping off y/n’s shoulder to grab one of her hands. She looked at him, a feeling of embarrassment washing over her at the thoughts she had allowed to get to her.

“I promise you that you have absolutely nothing to worry about,” Drew said, pressing a kiss to y/n’s temple. “Fiona is great, but she’s no you, a’ight? Nobody ever could be. Nobody.”

A smile crept onto y/n’s cheeks before Drew pulled her into an intoxicating hug. She wrapped her arms around him, feeling the familiar shape of his body and inhaling the scent of his cologne.

“I love you…” Drew said as the two of them finally pulled away, his arms still holding her against his chest. Y/n grinned at him before moving to rest her cheek against his chest, the sound of his heart beating steadily in her ear reminding her of what was true. What was real: all the memories and happiness she shared with the man right in front of her. The man who she was hopelessly, head over heels in love with… just like he was with her.

“... even when you get jealous.” Drew added, pinching y/n’s side playfully, causing her to giggle.

“I love you.” Y/n said, the two of them taking in the soft lull of the ocean in eachothers arms, any thoughts of jealousy or anyone else long gone.

[landoughnut]

Golfing Snack

♡ masterlist - request!

♡ pairing - lando norris x fem!reader

♡ summary - when lando takes you out to golf, it ends up with him having his favorite snack (hint: it's not a food ;)

♡ warnings - smut, oral sex (fem receiving), fluffyish, public (but no ones around)

♡ w/c & a/n - 1.31k | ahaha this is my first time writing smut so I apoligize if it's not good!! let me know any ideas you have, xoxo

It was hot out. Really hot. You were out at a golf course with your boyfriend, Lando. He loved taking you with him, you were like his personal cheerleader. Lucky for both of you, today no one seemed to be around, most likely due to the extreme heat, so you had a nice spot to yourselves. 

To say you didn’t enjoy playing would be a lie, but you much preferred watching him as his muscles became very prominent when he swung his club. You also enjoyed how he looked while sweating, and more often than not, he would end up taking his polo shirt off which gave you a view to die for. 

Currently, you were sitting in his own private golf caddy, dressed in what must be the one of the shortest skirts Lando has ever seen you in. Your white top matched the skirt, and you were amused at the amount of glances Lando gave your chest, since it did show quite a bit of cleavage.

He thought you looked like the sweetest thing in the world, and it had him playing worse than normal. 

You watched as he began to line up his next hit, and he once again looked over at you, his cheeks somehow flushing even more. He was wearing a backwards cap over his curls, and you loved the sight. He tried his best to get a perfect shot, since one of the reasons for bringing you out was to impress you. 

After a few minutes more of watching Lando, you lift your sunglasses onto your head and let out a loud sigh to get his attention. 

“Babyyy,” you drag out and hop out of your seat. 

He lifts his head up and turns towards you, he chews the inside of his cheek, looking up and down at your glowing skin and cheeky smile. He wipes the sweat off of his eyebrows, “What’s up? You know, you’ve been distracting me all day,” he chuckles, leaning against his club.

“What can I say,” you grin. “Anyway, I’m getting bored, I’ve tanned enough today,” you say as you stretch your arms above your head. 

He puts his hands on your waist and pulls you closer to him, not sparing a glance at his golf club that fell over. “Well then, I can’t have my sweet girl being bored now, can I? What would you like to do, angel?” Lando places a gentle kiss on your forehead, his fingers tracing your jaw. 

You look up at him and flutter your eyelashes, and give him an “innocent” smile. Although he knows that it is anything but. You get on your tiptoes and bring your lips towards his ear, “I don’t see anyone around, you know.” 

He lets out a groan, and looks down at you, a smirk slowly growing on his face. He chews his bottom lip, pretending to think the idea over. Of course he wasn’t going to say no, he was practically obsessed with you. “You know what? I think you, baby, are a genius.” 

“C’mon!” You begin to tug him towards the golf cart, as you follow excitedly behind you. His eyes dropping to your skirt was one gust of wind away from giving him a show. You stop short and he bumps into your back, causing you to now groan at the feeling of him being hard, pressed up against you. 

He brings his face down and starts pressing hot kisses down your neck, then onto your collarbone. Your head drops back against his chest and your breathing picks up as his right hand starts trailing down to your skirt. He lifts it up slightly and can hardly contain a moan at the sight of your white panties, with an intricate lacy design.

“Shit, pretty girl, you must be trying to kill me,” he says. His hands drop when you turn around towards him and cup his face, bringing his lips to yours. 

He returns your kiss with just as much passion, if not more, and his hands go under your thighs, lifting you up as if you weigh nothing. You wrap your legs tightly around his hips and he licks your bottom lip. He pulls back for a second, admiring you, “I love you,” he whispers against your lips. 

“I love you too,” and then he went back to devouring you. He takes a few steps towards the cart and places you down on the leather seat. You look up at him and blush as he leans down and starts kissing down your chest and stomach. Your back arches slightly off of the seat when he reaches the inside of your thighs. 

“Mm, so beautiful,” he gives you a small smile, looking up at you. You smile back and take the cap off of his head, tossing it somewhere behind you so you can run your fingers through his curls. 

His eyes flutter shut at your comforting touch and he presses feather kisses up and down both of your thighs, which is sweet but you begin to get needy since he keeps avoiding the place you need him most.

He flips up your skirt and his eyes widen as the damp patch you’ve left on your panties. He feels himself get harder, if possible, and places a kiss right on top of the wet spot. 

You jump slightly and let out a breath. Lando brings his thumb to your pussy, and admires as he starts rubbing over the soaked fabric. You whimper at the feeling, your head falling slightly to the side. 

“This is so pretty, baby, I’ll have to get you a new pair,” Lando says before he rips them in half so you are exposed to him. You gasp at the sudden air blowing against your already sensitive slit. 

Before you can say anything his mouth is on you and you are a goner. He licks, and sucks, and brushes his teeth over your clit. You tug at his hair, causing him to groan, and it only encourages him more. 

Unless you’re hearing things, you swear you can hear him let out a few whimpers and he eats you out. He seems to enjoy how you try your best to keep your moans to a minimal volume. “Fuck,” he groans against you, and it feels divine.  

He continues licking and kissing you everywhere and starts rubbing circles on your clit with his thumb. You gasp and further arch against the seat, looking down at him with his knees on the grass. He looked beautiful, shining in a light coat of sweat, shirtless, with his curls all messy from you playing with them. 

After just a few more seconds of him increasing his pace, you feel yourself reaching your high and you cover your mouth as you let out a particularly high pitched moan. He studies your face, how blissed out you look, how angelic you are. “Lando, b-baby, I’m coming, oh my-” you gasp. 

“Cum for me, love, let me taste you,” he mumbles against you, “please,” he whines. That’s all you have to hear before you are cumming onto his mouth, which laps up every single drop you give him. You pant as the waves of unexplainable pleasure pass through you.

He moans as he tastes you, eyes rolling up and hands desperate holding onto your thighs. “You taste like heaven,” he whispers once he’s finished you off. 

You fall back into the seat and have a dazed smile as you watch your boyfriend stand back up, bringing his mouth to yours in a soft, loving kiss. You sigh as the taste of yourself in his mouth. You bring your hand up and twirl some of his hair. “Your turn now?” He chuckles and shakes his head. 

You frown and he grins, “When we get back home, love,” he winks.

[rafeandonlyrafe]

tee time

words: 1.5k

warnings: really really overly fluffy, lots of golf talk that idk if its correct yall im not a golfer, rafe squeezes her butt but its not a sexual fic :), lots of kisses omfgggggg these bitches in LOVE (this is a really boring fic im sorry)

“does this look golf-y enough?” you ask rafe as you pout in the mirror, adjusting your skirt again, feeling like your tennis shoes are out of place when you'd usually be wearing heels or sandals.

“baby, we are just playing for fun. you look cute.” rafe says, glancing at his watch.

“should i do my hair differently? pigtails maybe?” you question, twisting your ponytail around your hand.

“baby…” rafe sighs.

“okay, okay.” you raise your hands up. “im done. sorry.” you giggle as you turn to him, pressing a kiss to his lips, having to bend down to where he's sat on the edge of the bed.

“it's okay, you're excited.” rafe says softly, reaching around you to grab the back of your thighs, fingers moving up to your skirt, squeezing your ass.

“i am excited.” you gleam at him. “me and bianca went to putt putt the other day to practice.”

“you're gonna do great, baby.” rafe gives your ass another squeeze before standing, taking your hand in his and leading you towards the door.

you've been wanting rafe to take you golfing ever since you started your relationship, but usually he'd already have plans with topper or his other country club friends, and you didn't want to intrude.

when rafe offered the other day to let you putt for him, you jumped at the chance.

“im not gonna like, ruin your average right?” you ask as rafe pulls into a parking spot.

“no, baby.” rafe laughs softly. “don't worry.”

“okay.” you smile as he gets out of the truck, rounding it to open the door for you. nobody would ever guess that rafe would be a sweet and caring boyfriend, but he looks at you like you put the stars in the sky, and treats you better than you could have ever imagined.

he takes your hand in his as he leads you towards the golf cart, frowning when he realizes you're squinting in the sunlight.

“stay here.” rafe says, allowing you to sit down on his family cart, his clubs already loaded onto the back.

“okay.” you watch as he goes to the truck, jogging to get back to you as he hands you a pair of sunglasses.

“whose are these?” you ask. they look like your style, but you're certain this isn't a pair you own.

“i saw them one day at the mall and thought you'd like them so i bought them.” rafe shrugs. “figured i could keep them in the truck in case you ever forgot yours.”

“raaaafe.” you coo out, pulling him in for a kiss, which he happily accepts.

“ill let you drive once we get further out on the course.” rafe says, sliding into the driver's seat and turning the cart on before wrapping his arm around your shoulder, willing to drive with just one hand even though it was harder, needing you close to him as you press your side against his.

rafe pulls up to the first tee, waiting for a moment to feel the wind on his face before he turns to look at you, noting the way your ponytail is being blown slightly eastward.

“give me a good luck kiss for this drive, baby.” rafe says.

you pucker your lips and press a smack against his lips before he grabs a club. 

you let out a cheer when rafe hits the ball, but honestly you lost sight of it in the air and even if you watched the whole way, you wouldn't have known if it was good or bad.

“yes.” rafe pumps his fist. “need you out here more often, my good luck charm.” rafe climbs back into the golf cart, taking off towards where his ball landed.

“gonna land this on the green for you, baby.” rafe says with a confident smile, and he does indeed get the ball pretty close to the hole. 

you're not sure if cheering is generally accepted on the golf course, but you can't help but hype your man up.

“alright.” rafe pulls the cart to a stop near the ball. “it's on you, princess.”

you step out of the cart, looking at your options before grabbing what you assume is the putter, only because it looks similar to clubs used for mini golf.

“if you don't make it the first time, that's okay.” rafe says, removing the flag from the hole. “i won't be mad.”

“mkay.” you look at the distance to the hole, no silly obstacles in the way like there was in your practice.

you give it the ball a tap, frowning with disappointment when it stops rolling only a foot away from the hole.

“that was actually so good!” rafe says, a smile on his face. “just a little more power and it would have been in for sure.”

you nod, taking a breath before lining up your next shot, letting out a scream and jump in the air as the ball falls into the hole.

“that's par, baby!” rafe wraps his arms around your waist, twirling you around.

“oh my god, we crushed that!” you cheer. 

rafe sets you down carefully, but not before pressing a kiss against your lips.

“wanna drive us to the next tee?” he asks, laughing when you enthusiastically nod. rafe drives you literally everywhere, so you haven't been behind the wheel of anything in months.

rafe retrieves the ball and places the flag back in the hole before getting into the passenger side, a smile on his face as you stick your tongue barely out between your lips in concentration. 

rafe loves the look on your face so much that he insists you drive for the rest of the holes. you're tired by the time you reach the last hole, but don't wanna disappoint rafe by not putting.

“you okay, princess?” rafe asks, running his hand over your ponytail, smoothing it down comfortingly.

“mhm.” you nod, but rafe can see that you're getting sleepy, no doubt ready to go home and take a nap.

“how about we do this putt together, yeah?” he asks.

“yes, please.” you pout out your lower lip, rafe leaning forward to capture it between his teeth, tugging it gently before releasing and kissing you.

rafe stands, moving slowly as you get yourself in position before coming behind you, wrapping his arms around your body to grip onto the stick over your hands. he controls the swing and you watch, your back pressed up against his chest, as it falls into the hole.

“perfect job, baby.” rafe says, snuggling into your shoulder, giving your neck a quick kiss before allowing you to go back to sitting on the cart. you slide over to the passenger seat as rafe returns.

he chuckles gently before driving you back towards the clubhouse, thumb gently stroking against your upper arm as you lean against him, tucked into his side.

“someone is sleepy.” rafe says.

you let out a yawn. “it's not my fault you like to golf early in the day. why can't tee time be after like noon or something?”

“i usually golf at this time because you're still asleep and i don't like to be away from you.” rafe says, parking the cart and leaving it to be put properly away by the workers, needing to get you back home and in bed.

the sun has been covered by clouds, so when you climb back into rafes truck, you take your sunglasses off and place them in the center console for next time you forget yours.

you struggle to keep your eyes open for the short drive back to tanneyhill, not wanting to fall asleep in the truck. you know rafe will drive around aimlessly to not disturb your nap, even if he's tired himself. one time he drove around for an entire night just because he said you looked so peaceful sleeping he couldn't bare to move you.

“home, darling.” rafe says, yours eyes fluttering open, not having gone fully asleep yet but the soothing driving by rafe and hum of the engine had your eyelids drooping.

rafe carries you inside and up the stairs, getting out a pair of pajamas for you to change into despite it being midday.

“how long do you expect me to nap for?” you giggle, changing quickly with the last bit of energy you have left.

you sit down on the bed, knowing you should take your ponytail out and brush through your hair, but your arms don't feel like lifting.

you don't even need to ask rafe before he's moving, carefully taking out your elastic before grabbing the brush off your vanity that he set up in his room not long after you started dating.

he brushes gently through your hair, getting out any tangles that accumulated throughout the golf trip.

you crawl up the bed as rafe changes into a pair of sweatpants, going without a shirt as he sees your eyes closing, struggling to stay awake until he's in next to you.

you snuggle instantly into his chest the second hes underneath the covers, sighing happily when you feel his warmth.

“goodnight, princess.” rafe kisses the top of your head. “i love you.”

with your last waking moment, you manage to mutter those three words back to him.

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @sourkittie @rafeyslove @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk @starkeysheart @pradabambie @tobesolovelysstuff @alexiskirkland @rafestar @brioffthegrid @juniebugg @magicalyoura @cokepewpsii @mysticallystilinski @luvdella @aerangi @vogueprincess @auryyz @raysmayhem-72 @thestarlithideout @marvelfanfics1recs @rafesgiirl @ditzyzombiesblog @chiaraanatra @tobiaslut @drewsephrry @1aarii1 @bejeweledreverie @winterrrnight

[erwinsvow]

oh girl jealous!reader in the kook trio is EVERYTHING i neeed more of her !! she wont be afraid to use jj as her weapon lol and when rafe confronts her shes just nonchalant too like “what do u mean? dont u have a girlfriend to worry about?”

RRRAAAAHHHH I LIVE FOR PETTY READER 🦅🦅

"why the fuck were you talkin' to that fuckin' pogue?" rafe asks, and you push your sunglasses up.

he's still in his golf clothes, clearly having stormed down from the course to find you by the outdoor tables, reading your book after having just sent jj another text.

if rafe wanted to play this game, you knew how to hit him where it hurt. you resist the urge to roll your eyes, setting down your book flat on the table next to your drink, the reason you'd even come out here.

"language, rafe. there's a toddler right over there."

"i don't fuckin' care. why the fuck were-"

"i talking to that pogue? yeah, i heard you the first time." you pick up your lemonade, taking another sip. "it's not really your business."

you look up at your best friend, as angry as you've ever seen him. you hold back a smirk since your plan worked.

"i got fuckin' top tellin' me he saw you at the beach with maybank? are you fuckin' joking?"

"top has a big mouth. he should have kept it shut."

telling topper you were sensing a spark between you and jj had been the smartest thing you'd done this entire time you'd been pursuing rafe. you knew he'd go run and tell rafe the second he saw you and the blond pogue boy walking around town together.

"kid, i swear to fuckin' god, if you go near that pogue again-"

"why do you care? don't you have your own girlfriend to worry about?" rafe looks a little dumbfounded—mission accomplished. "that's what i thought. so you worry about her, and i'll worry about jayj, okay? nice talking, rafe. see you on the course."

you take your book and walk away, leaving rafe standing behind you. your phone buzzes with a text from jj.

jayj: u free tonight?

you text back yes before you can think twice about it.

[rafecameronssl4t]

Ok ok ok how about thorton!Reader and Rafe but the reader is equally as bad as Rafe and Topper? I’m thinking the golf scene in season one where they jump Pope but the reader happens to be there too and Pope hopes that she’ll help him… but she doesn’t 🫣

Stay off Figure Eight || Rafe Cameron x Thornton!reader

A/n: the title of this acc hurts me. I can’t think of one (give me ideas pls) 😭😭 I usually write Thornton!reader as being a sweetheart and friends with Pope (much to Rafe's dismay) but this was fun!!!! send thru any requests you have :)

Warnings: both reader and rafe r crazy, mention of blood, violence, swearing. if you were uncomfortable watching this scene in the series, do not read as I go into detail about it

Word count: 1,608

MASTERLIST (rafe x thornton!reader au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

"Man, that party was insane!" your brother exclaims, his laugh carrying through the air. Rafe flashes a grin, his arm tightening around your shoulder as the three of you stroll across the grass, searching for a clear spot on the course.

"I mean, my first thought when I did that line was, 'Bro, do we have enough?'" Topper rambles on, clearly thrilled with his first encounter with cocaine. You roll your eyes, growing weary of hearing the same story on repeat.

"It was crazy!" Topper shakes his head in disbelief, as if trying to wrap his mind around the experience. But you’re beyond over it. "It was just a line of coke, Jesus fucking Christ," you mutter under your breath, sliding your sunglasses off and perching them atop your head.

"I know, right?" Rafe adds, chuckling lightly before he steps away from you, lining up his shot. "That was good shit," he remark as he prepares to drive the ball. You casually pop another piece of gum into your mouth, standing beside Topper, who is still basking in his night.

"Hey, you uh… you didn’t tell Sarah, did you?" Topper’s voice drops to a nervous whisper, worry creeping into his tone, his earlier bravado faltering. The mention of Sarah always makes him nervous.

"Are you kidding me, man? The way she runs her mouth? Hell no," Rafe’s response is quick, dismissive, and you can almost hear the relief in Topper’s sigh as he nods. Rafe swings his club, and the sound of the ball slicing through the air is sharp and satisfying.

You let out a low whistle as you all watch it soar, landing close to a group of middle-aged men playing a few holes ahead. "Hey, come on now!" one of them shouts, annoyed by the interruption. You and Topper exchange a glance, both struggling to contain your laughter.

A snort escapes your brother's lips, while you bite down on your gum to suppress a giggle. "Shut up!" Rafe yells back, dismissing them without a second thought, "Geezers!" "They shouldn’t be taking so long anyway," Rafe mutters, shaking his head as he returns to your side, draping his arm over your shoulder again as you chuckle softly. But then, Rafe suddenly tenses, his gaze locked onto something in the distance.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," he mutters, his grip tightening on you. "What is it?" you ask, feigning innocence as you follow his line of sight, already sensing the tension brewing. "What?" Topper asks, confused, before he too follows your stares. Rafe’s eyes narrow, a dark intensity brewing within them as he stares at Pope, who remains blissfully unaware of your presence.

Topper glances at you both, sensing the tension that’s quickly building. "I don’t think he’s a member, do you?" you say aloud. "It’s fine, just... just let him go, all right? Let’s go get your ball," Topper suggests, trying to diffuse the situation before it escalates. His voice is calm, but there’s an underlying edge of anxiety.

You scoff, amused by Topper’s attempt at playing peacemaker. "Softening up to the Pogues, are we, Top?" you tease, your tone dripping with mockery. Topper rolls his eyes but doesn’t rise to the bait. "They put a gun to your head, bro," Rafe interjects, his voice hardening as he turns his attention back to Topper.

Your brother remains calm, determined not to escalate things. "That’s fine. It’s fine. Let’s go," he insists, though his voice wavers slightly. You can’t resist needling him further. "Do you still have cocaine in your system right now, or are you being serious? JJ could have easily pulled the trigger on you," you point out, your brow furrowing in disbelief.

Topper avoids your gaze, his lips pressed into a thin line. Rafe’s patience snaps. "Fuck him," he says, his tone final as he spins on his heel and starts marching toward Pope, dragging you along with him. "Hey, Rafe. Rafe! Let’s get your ball, man!" Topper protests, his hand raking through his hair in frustration. "C'mon, Y/n!"

Rafe’s grip tightens around you, his voice low and determined. "I’m gonna show this idiot exactly whose side of the island he’s on," he murmurs against your hair, a proud smirk tugging at his lips. You chuckle, caught up in his confidence as you follow him down the slight hill toward Pope’s path.

"Hey, what’s up, man!" Rafe greets Pope with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, his approach casual but laced with menace. Pope’s face tightens with a mix of fear and anger as he realises he’s outnumbered. "Hey, how much for one of those beers?" Rafe asks, peering into the bags and blocking Pope’s way. You glance over your shoulder, seeing Topper finally catching up.

"They’re not for sale," Pope replies, his voice steady but his eyes darting nervously between Rafe and Topper. You can see the calculation in his mind, weighing his options in the 2 v 1 situation.

"Oh, wait, wait, wait. You can just give us one, then, right?" Rafe suggests, his tone still deceptively friendly as Topper steps up beside him. You stay a few feet back, understanding that this confrontation is theirs to handle.

"Or you can order one, like everybody else," Pope counters, trying to keep his cool. You fight to keep a straight face, impressed by his nerve. Pope attempts to step around Rafe, but Rafe blocks him again, his patience wearing thin.

"Listen. Wait, wait, wait. You’re not listening to me," Rafe says, his voice hardening. "Um… you’ve got so many, bro, and we’ve got nothing." He glances at Topper and then at you, seeking validation. You shrug in mock agreement, playing along with Rafe’s antics.

"Nothin’, man," Topper chimes in, backing Rafe up. Pope holds firm, though. "They’re not even mine. They’re already paid for," he tries to explain, but Rafe isn’t interested in reason.

"Already paid for? What the hell? You probably stole 'em right?" Rafe mutters, grabbing his club and using it to tear open one of Pope’s bags, spilling its contents across the ground. Pope’s eyes widen in disbelief. "What the hell? You owe me for that!" he protests, his voice rising in anger.

Rafe’s chuckle is dark and humorless. "Look, man, I don’t owe you shit, Pogue," he says, stepping closer to Pope, using his height and presence to intimidate. Pope snaps, shoving Rafe back, his anger finally boiling over.

"Buy your own shit!" Pope yells, his face inches from Rafe’s. "Hey, hey, come on, man!" Topper steps in, grabbing Pope by the shoulders, trying to deescalate. "We just want one of these beers! C’mon, just give us one of these—" Topper’s voice is strained as he fights with Pope over the carton.

"You guys are freaking crazy!" Pope shouts, his grip tightening on the beers. The struggle intensifies until Topper, in a burst of frustration, throws Pope to the ground. Pope’s body rolls, stopping just inches from your feet.

"Shit!" Topper curses, surprised by his own actions. You glance down at Pope, who’s groaning in pain at your feet. "Shit, my bad, man," Topper says, though there’s a hint of amusement in his tone. Pope groans before pushing himself up, and before you can react, he launches himself at Rafe, who’s ready for him. Rafe’s club swings down, hitting Pope hard and repeatedly until he falls back to the ground.

"Hey! Rafe, Rafe! Come on, man!" your brother shouts, his voice panicked. "Stay down, bitch!" Rafe yells, his anger boiling over. Topper looks at you, desperation in his eyes, but you remain still, blowing a bubble with your gum, unfazed. "Hey, let’s go! Let’s go, man!" Topper insists, trying to pull Rafe back. Rafe ignores him, his rage blinding him as he lifts the club higher, slamming it down near Pope’s head.

Pope groans, blood trickling from his mouth as he lies on the ground. Rafe crouches down, grabbing Pope’s face, forcing him to look at him. "We don’t want you here. Got that?" Rafe’s voice is low and menacing as he pats Pope’s cheek. "Stay off Figure Eight, Pogue," he warns before straightening up and walking away.

"Top, let’s go!" Rafe calls out, not bothering to check if your brother is following. Topper hesitates, his face a mix of shock and disbelief. You don’t move until Rafe is nearly at your side, and then, to everyone’s surprise, you walk past him, heading toward Pope. Rafe stops, watching you with confusion, and Topper’s brows knit together as they both try to figure out what you’re doing.

"I swear to God, Y/n, if Mom finds out that you’re involved—" Topper begins, but you cut him off sharply. "Oh, shut up!" you snap, crouching down to reach for your favorite beer bottle that had fallen from Pope’s bag. "What the fuck is she doing?" you hear Topper mutter, his disbelief clear as he watches you.

Pope watches you silently, his face bruised and bloody. "This could have been so much easier for you if you had just given them the beer," you sigh, noticing the bottle opener clipped to his belt loop. Pope’s eyes flare with anger, but he’s too hurt to do anything. "Fuck. You," he seethes as you pop the bottle open with a practiced flick.

"Cheers!" you smile, taking a sip before standing up and walking back to Rafe and Topper. They’re both stunned, not sure whether to laugh or be shocked by your coldness. "What? It’s my favourite," you pout playfully. Rafe chuckles, clearly impressed as he pulls you back to his side, while Topper scoffs loudly, shaking his head in disbelief.

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for dating Johnny Lawrence

Johnny Lawrence x reader

warnings: towards the end theres degenerate!johnny mentions (the WORST most funny way to put it but him being an alcoholic and such) (that is NOT funny dont be an alcoholic)

a/n: i been looking at young william zabka edits for an hour brain go brrr. also yes i already have hcs for this so these are NOT part 2 they are a different au after the all valley 🙏. this has been the MOST INSPIRING fic i have written in months im literally in love with him

prompt:

after the all-valley and cobra kai, johnny felt like he’d lost everything

then he found you

you had just barely known each other, growing up in the same vicinity but never really saying a word to each other

until one day at encino oaks, johnny spotted you sunbathing on an unusually warm day and took a chance

“y/n, right?” -johnny, sitting on the pool chair next to you

“that’s right” -you, tilting your sunglasses down

“i’m johnny. we, uh, we go to west valley together”

“yeah, i’ve heard of you” -you

his stomach sank (he’s got a bad track record)

“yeah, that’s unfortunate.” -johnny, getting up to leave and pausing “would you be interested in jumping in the pool with me?”

you stared at him for a few seconds (cuz you could tell he wasn’t too confident) and got up, actually jumping in the pool in a full cannonball

his spirits were lifted and he jumped in right after you

“that was awesome!” -johnny

you two swam around splashing and annoying the older club members, but it was no matter

you ended up sitting on the pool ledge talking and getting to know each other

“oh, no, i don’t really keep up with local karate tournaments. i hadn’t heard” -you

“that’s perfect for me, then” -johnny

you gave him your number and said you’d see him at school monday

and that you did

“is that him? he’s cute! maybe he’ll start driving you to school. or you could get your license” -your mom, dropping you off

“mom!” -you “he does seem pretty sweet. i think he found me at the perfect time, too. got knocked down a peg or two from some karate tournament”

he brought you a little box of chocolates to give to you before class THAT VERY MONDAY (he was moving fast)

he was also very desperate for a prom date for senior prom but that was beside the point

you played a little hard to get

but johnny finally found a reason to fight again and he wanted to fight for you

“could i take you on a date this weekend? do you prefer something fancy like a nice restaurant or casual like golf n stuff or romantic like the beach?” -johnny

“why dont you just plan it and i’ll be ready. just tell me what i should wear” -you, kissing him on the cheek

he always felt so cool and confident but you had him flustered and about to buckle at the knees

he decided to keep it casual for now because you seemed so “go with the flow” and there were so many things to do, so many distractions to keep him from doing something stupid

and of course he picked you up because you still didn’t have your license yes

“come on, i’ll teach you how to drive” -johnny

“noooo thank you, i am not driving your car” -you

you drove it one block and he understood why you didn’t have your license

johnny paid for all your tokens and you guys had a blast competing in games and ended up with a pretty decent pile of tickets

“ooh, competitive!” -you

“i have no idea what you’re talking about” -johnny

daniel was actually at golf n stuff that night with ali but johnny didn’t even care he was so infatuated with you

he bought you some nachos for a snack, which he snuck a few bites in shamelessly

you still haven’t kissed at this point but he was waiting for the perfect moment

you made sure to touch his arms and keep close and flirt, sending all the right signals

he seemed like such a go-getter, you were getting impatient

and finally, he took you to the ferris wheel and made it all cliche and special wrapping his arm around your shoulders and waiting until you two were at the top of the wheel to place a hand on your cheek and kiss you gently

(gentle went away fast you had been waiting for this for a whole WEEK and thats a lifetime for a teenager)

he was giddy for the rest of the night and all he’d gotten was a quick makeout session

he ended up pooling all your tickets together for a stuffed animal of your choice

it couldn’t have been a better first date honestly

and soon enough he was driving you to school, walking you to class, bringing you little gifts, getting you into trouble, listening to music with you, sneaking out with you, just doing everything with and for you

and the promposal was very cute classic (a sign and some flowers, he wasn’t all too creative)

and when prom came around, you two stood out! you both looked stunning and styling, everyoneeee was jealous

“johnny looks happy” -daniel

“poor y/n’s just gonna get their heart broken” -ali

prom court?? no actually lol but keep dreaming

“you’re the prom [king/queen] in my heart” -johnny

“if you hand me a plastic crown im gonna hit you” -you

johnny took it out anyway and you both started cackling bc it was so silly

he just wanted you to feel special (you had no part in prom court at all actually there was no disappointment he was just being a punk)

“sooo, prom night..?” -johnny

“what about it” -you

“oh, nothing…”

“just drive, punk. my parents aren’t home”

a miracle he didn’t get a speeding ticket

soon enough you two had graduated and gone off to college together

although johnny had a hard time focusing on what really mattered

you two definitely partied together and he was always so protective and caring, making sure no one made a pass at you or made you uncomfortable (and if they did he’d try to fight them and you’d drag him away)

some of those nights were memorable, but he started slipping and you kept trying to keep him on the right path

he had a few wakeup calls

and proposed to you

and you accepted

and for a while, he did things right for you

but in the end, he just couldn’t grow up and you broke it off

all the fighting and drinking and partying and bailing him out of jail finally became too much and you returned the ring

“i wish it were different johnny. i really do. i thought you were the one. but i cant be with you if you’re not gonna grow up. i love you, and im sorry, but im done” -you

he was a WRECK after that he spiraled completely and cried for you for months

and he tried to get you back. he tried to straighten up and fly right but he always fell back into the same problems, and his friends were just as dumb as he was

you’d get a drunken call now and then of johnny rambling how sorry he was and how he still loves you and he wanted to change and begging you to take him back

you went on one last date with him and saw a very grim future

and realized you didn’t want to stick around to fix him

“do you still have the stuffed animal from our first date?” -johnny

“i do” -you

“promise me you’ll keep it forever” -johnny

“i promise”

his parents were so incredibly disappointed in him and that he “lost a good one”

and he never stopped beating himself up over it.

taglist: @ravenmoore14 // @an4aaa // @summersimmerus // @sapphireplums // @ravenhood2792 // @elemental-of-magic // @mauve-galaxy-427 //

[bradshawssugarbaby]

Hurricane - Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

summary: Bradley's regretted breaking off his relationship with you for months, but when he sees you walking into the country club after his round of golf, he knows he has to fix things.

a/n: I haven't written much angst before but I'm really trying to branch out a little bit. Inspired by Hurricane by Luke Combs, and also this weird recurring dream I keep having.

pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x reader

warnings/content: buckle up bc there's a lot? angst (happy ending), parental death, depression, hurt, cancer, goose's accident + carole's reaction, carole literally never getting over losing goose, bradley being a commitmentphobe, pregnancy (i think that's it?), also entirely unrealistic bc you know what? I can't keep roo sad for long.

word count: 3.6k

taglist: @avengersfan25, @nouis-bum, @floydsmuse, @mamachasesmayhem, @jessicab1991, @atarmychick007, @b-bradshaw, @djs8891

Then you rolled in with your hair in the wind Baby, without warning I was doin' alright but just your sight Had my heart stormin'

Bradley narrowed his eyes beneath his sunglasses, the glare of the hot mid-morning sun harsh on his chocolate brown eyes. He grabbed his nine-iron from his golf bag, taking a practice swing before teeing up for his next shot. Bob, Jake, Reuben and Javy stood to the side behind him, watching as he lined up to take his shot. He hadn’t golfed in years, in fact, he’d only ever golfed a handful of times in his life, all of them back when he lived in Virginia. His uncle had taught him when he was 15, a welcome distraction when his mom became sick, and he’d gone out a few times when he was in college after a roommate of his on the school’s golf team had invited him out. He held his breath as he heard the club make contact with the small, white orb, watching as it soared through the air, disappearing somewhere onto the course. Jake let out an impressive whistle as he looked on, placing his hands on his hips as he shook his head in disbelief.

“You’ve never golfed before, Bradshaw? You sure?” He drawled, raising one of his manicured (though he’d deny it if asked) blonde eyebrows suspiciously.

“I told you, a handful of times. Not never.”

“You did say less than five,” Bob shrugged as he cleaned his glasses before replacing them on his nose. “Less than five suggests you haven’t really hit a course.”

“Not to mention you said in years. That was the swing of a man who’s at least hit a driving range a few times,” Reuben pointed out to the course in the general direction of where Bradley’s ball had landed as Javy, Bob and Jake nodded in agreement. 

“I wish Nat had tagged along, she wouldn’t ride my ass this hard,” Bradley huffed, shaking his head. 

“Nat doesn’t golf. You know that. She acted disgusted that I even asked,” Jake shrugged.

“Maybe it was how you asked,” Bob suggested as he disguised his jab at Jake as a helpful criticism.

 “Just take your turn, Robert,” Jake hissed, rolling his eyes dramatically as Bob smirked.

Bradley normally would have joined in with a quip of his own directed at Jake, but his heart just wasn’t in it. His heart wasn’t even in the game. The only reason why he’d agreed to go golfing with the guys for their usual monthly game was because you left him. He needed to get over you and move on - it’d been six months and with no deployments coming up, he had nothing to focus 100% of his attention onto. Reuben had noticed it first - Bradley was withdrawn on nights out, his usually chatterbox self now quiet, calm and keeping to himself, barely breaking eye contact with his beer bottle. Then came Natasha’s barrage of questions - he knew she meant well, but God, it was hard to listen to. 

He didn’t want to admit it to himself, but he knew why you left. And it was entirely his fault. You’d gotten upset because he’d stopped spending as much time with you, kept getting cold feet about committing to your relationship. He’d never tell you why he couldn’t commit - it was too hard for him to explain to anyone, really. In fact, he was fairly confident that Reuben was the only other person aware of it. 

Bradley wanted to be the partner you needed - he really did. He wanted to be the doting, affectionate boyfriend who’d whisk you off somewhere beautiful, propose to you, start a family with 2.2 kids and a dog, cart the kids around to sports practices on weekends - the American dream. He knew you deserved that much. And yet, no matter how badly he wanted to give that to you - he couldn’t. He’d told you he didn’t want it - he didn’t want to get married, he didn’t want to have kids, he never wanted it. He watched you fall apart the minute the words left his mouth, and it killed him inside. He wanted to hold you close and tell you he was making a mistake, tell you it wasn’t true and he didn’t mean it, but he couldn’t. 

He couldn’t, because he was terrified. 

Growing up without his dad was one of the hardest things he could have experienced, he was sure of it. He was too young to truly remember how his mom reacted when she learned her husband had been killed in a training exercise, but he remembered her crying a lot, feeling paralyzed by loss and guilt, angry with the world for taking the man she loved away from her. He remembered as he grew up, she never remarried, never went on a date, never even as much as looked at another man. His dad was her everything, and losing him crushed her. 

When she got sick, Bradley was a teenager - old enough to understand what it meant for her, what her odds of recovery were, and old enough to be realistic about the future. When they found out she wasn’t going to get better, he’d half expected her to react the way she did when his dad died, but instead, she seemed almost at peace with the idea. She’d spent 14 years of her life missing his dad, and she knew that, even though she was horrified by the thought of leaving Bradley on his own, she wouldn’t have to spend another minute missing her husband.

Bradley decided then that he’d never want to put someone through that. He’d never be able to hurt someone he loved like this - leave them widowed before they turned 30, alone with a toddler at home to raise on the opposite side of the country from their family and friends, with nothing but a military pension and an apology over his death. 

It was at 16 years old that Bradley decided, if he wanted to become a pilot, he was going to have to spend life alone, and for the most part, he was ok with that. 

That was, until he met you.

He tried to deny his feelings, pretending you were just a casual fling, some fun sex here and there between deployments and missions and nothing more. That was, until three months in, he accidentally told you he loved you. It wasn’t a lie, he did love you, but it caught him off guard when he said it - he didn’t mean to blow his cover and let his guard down like that. And when you said it back? He knew it was game over. 

He tried his hardest to push his fears aside, he tried SO hard. He was getting older and beginning to realize he didn’t want to spend the rest of his life alone, especially as he neared the mandatory 20 years of service cutoff for aviators. He’d grown almost fond of the idea of settling down with you, seeing you with a ring on your finger, picturing you with a baby in you, his baby. He wanted it. He wanted all of it. But, the fears and anxiety he had reared its ugly head, and he couldn’t bring himself to get past it. 

It was on their last mission, when he had to eject and landed in the middle of a snowy mountain, unsure if he’d make it back home to you. His mind raced with thoughts of how you’d react if he didn’t make it home - how you’d crumple to the floor when you saw the two uniformed officers on your doorstep, the blood-curdling scream you’d let out in pain when you heard them say it, tears staining your pretty little face as you were handed that folded American flag - he couldn’t bear it. He couldn’t stand the idea of putting you through everything his mom had gone through. Not when you were so young and had everything ahead of you. When you could find a man who wasn’t putting his life in danger nearly every damn day, risking himself and risking a chance he might not come home to you. 

This golf trip was meant to take his mind off you. Reuben had mentioned it in passing to Jake and Bob, who exchanged worried looks with one another. Javy had overheard Nat’s line of questioning when he and Mickey returned to the table with a fresh round of beers, both of them offering Bradley silent looks of sympathy as they nodded in agreement to Nat’s advice. Bradley was struggling, in over his head with emotions and regret and sadness, but he knew he’d fucked it all up. And he knew that even if he tried, you wouldn’t want him back, and who could blame you? 

Bob had suggested he reach out to you and apologize, and for a while, Bradley considered it. He strongly considered calling you, going to your house, begging for forgiveness and begging you to take him back, but after how you reacted when he broke things off with you, he wouldn’t even take him back. He’d been a dick in every sense of the word, and now, he had to try and move on, adjusting to life without you in it. 

The next nine holes passed by with little conversation from Bradley and worried glances exchanged between his friends. He wasn’t in the mood for talking, he’d explain, shrugging the concern off before focusing back on the game. Bradley was thankful for his friends’ efforts, but it was beginning to feel like nothing would help him move on. 

He slumped down into a chair at a table in the country club after their round of golf, sipping back the beer Jake bought him. He caught himself downing the liquid quicker than he should have, but at this point, being drunk would at least provide him with that much needed numbness he craved. He could hear Bob bickering with Jake over golf scores and who truly won, prompting an eye roll from Javy as he pulled the crumpled scoresheets from his pocket and placed them on the table. Reuben noticed the glazed over look in Bradley’s eye and clapped a sympathetic hand down on his shoulder. 

Bradley was about to thank Reuben for being there for him when he saw your face. You were walking into the country club with a couple of your friends, laughing and smiling as you spoke. 

God, he loved that smile. 

He gulped back the rest of his drink before placing the glass back down on the table, the sound of Bradley slamming the glass down a little harder than he intended prompting Jake to spin his head around as he saw you.

“Oh..shit,” he murmured as Bob and Javy both turned to look discreetly towards you.

Bradley’s eyes widened as you walked past the bar, revealing a very unexpected new figure. He blinked his eyes a few times to ensure they weren’t playing tricks on him - positive that this had to be some kind of optical illusion or something. It was impossible. You couldn’t be.

“Pregnant.” Jake whispered as he leaned into the table, “She’s pregnant,”

“Did you know, Bradley?” Bob inquired as he pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose.

“N-no.” Bradley choked out, feeling the walls closing in around him as the room started to spin.

Without hesitation, Bradley rose from his seat and made his way over to you, despite the protests from Bob and Reuben, the two voices of reason to Javy and Jake’s voices of impulse. Bradley approached you cautiously, clearing his throat for a moment to garner your attention. You spun your head around, your cheeks rosy and your skin glowing with that pregnancy glow everyone always talked about. Bradley had never really believed in that kind of stuff, but you were proving him wrong. 

“Bradley?” you asked, your face paleing to a shade of ghostly white. 

“Can…can we talk, please? I need to talk to you,” Bradley rambled with desperation written on his face.

You huffed a sigh, nodding your head slowly as you excused yourself from your friends, who were now whispering and exchanging uncomfortable glances with one another. Bradley followed closely behind you as you stepped out into the fresh air, finding a discreet corner of the parking lot to discuss everything from the last six months. 

“I…Is it mine?” Bradley whispered, almost afraid to hear the answer as his eyes wandered to the bump that was evident under your sundress.

You sighed again, following Bradley’s gaze down to your abdomen, a protective hand resting on your bump as you nodded slowly, humming in confirmation.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He frowned, shaking his head quickly, “I-I, I would have helped you.”

“Bradley,” you said, narrowing your eyes and shaking your head quickly, “You told me you didn’t want this. You dumped me and told me you never wanted to settle down or have a family, you didn’t want to be with me anymore, and being in a long-term relationship wasn’t what you ever wanted. You told me you didn’t love me. So please, tell me why I should have told you?”

“Because,” he said softly, his heart aching as he heard your side of things, “I didn’t mean any of that. I was wrong.”

“Oh, you were wrong? Tell me, were you always wrong, or are you only wrong now that you’ve seen me six months later, heavily pregnant?” 

Bradley was speechless. He gazed down at his feet, kicking at the pavement in his golf cleats. He sighed as he thought for a moment, taking a second of quiet reflection to compose his thoughts before speaking. He wanted to get this right. He couldn’t afford to fuck it up again.

“I was always wrong. I was wrong when I said it, and I knew I was wrong,” he shook his head vigorously before looking up to meet your gaze, “Did I ever tell you about my mom?”

“You told me she died when you were a teenager, and you didn’t really mention anything else about her. Or anyone in your family, for that matter.”

“Right,” he nodded his head slowly, taking a deep breath before beginning to explain. “My dad died when I was 2. He was an RIO, a Radar Intercept Officer. You know Maverick, right?”

“Mhmm,” you nodded slowly, a look of annoyance flashing across your face as you listened to Bradley, you were used to his excuses, and you were really hoping this wasn’t another one. 

“So, Maverick was my dad’s pilot. Best friends. Did everything together. He was flying when my dad died, their plane lost control, had to eject, my dad hit the canopy. Died instantly.” Bradley paused, taking another deep breath as he felt himself getting choked up, “My mom, she, uh, she was really young. My dad was 25, my mom was 23. He was her high school sweetheart. She was devastated. I was too young to remember a lot, but I remember her hurting, and being sad all the time, unable to function some days because she just missed him so much,” he explained as tears began to roll down his cheeks.

“Bradley, I’m sorry,” you sighed, shaking your head as you sympathetically rubbed his bicep to comfort him.

“I just…when she died, she was…peaceful, I guess, because she knew she wouldn’t have to miss him anymore. She wouldn’t be lonely. She never remarried or dated after him, she couldn’t bring herself to. She’s buried with her wedding ring still on her finger. I couldn’t bring myself to take it off her,” he took another deep breath, exhaling sharply before looking up at you. 

“I couldn’t do that to you,” he finally said, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill over again, “I couldn’t leave you like my mom. Heartbroken and alone your whole life. She never moved on, and I didn’t want that for you if we got married. God, I would have given anything to marry you. I would have taken you to the courthouse and married you on the spot if you would have agreed to it. But, I couldn’t risk breaking your heart. Not like that.”

“Bradley, you’ve always come home in one piece,” you said softly, fingers still stroking his upper arm soothingly.

“But I almost didn’t. I had to eject and all I could think about was you getting that knock at the door and going through what she went through, and I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t do that to you, or…or to a baby.”

You shook your head, processing everything that Bradley had just said as he poured his heart out to you. He’d never opened up like this to you before, but you could tell each and every word was genuine. As much as you hated him for leaving you, you couldn’t deny that you still loved him with all of your heart. 

You missed him. 

You missed waking up to him after the two of you had fallen asleep watching a movie together. You missed the way he yelled at the tv when watching baseball, how passionate he got over football games, how he’d pick the olives out of his nachos like a toddler and put them on your plate. You missed how he couldn’t eat apples unless they were baked in a pie, how he’d scarf down an entire red velvet cake if you didn’t gently stop him, then regret it hours later. You missed the way his big brown eyes would stare at you, a look of pure adoration on his face like a lovesick puppy whenever you spoke to someone else, as if he was hanging on every single word that fell from your lips.

You burst into tears, throwing your arms tightly around Bradley as you shook your head. “God, you’re an idiot, you know that?” you murmured, laughing softly as you hugged him.

“I know, I’m the biggest idiot. I still would marry you if you let me. I wanted to have kids with you, I want to be around for this one,” he nodded, gesturing his hands at your bump. 

“Really?”

“Cross my heart,” Bradley said with an expression of complete seriousness on his face, “I wanna know everything about them. Everything. I wanna know what you’re having, what name you’ve picked out, what your cravings are, how you’ve been feeling, when they move, what does it feel like? I want to know how far along you are, and how they’re doing, if they have my nose or your nose, or if they’re gonna be tall like I am, I want to know what helps you sleep at night when you’re pregnant, and what their favourite song is. I want all of it, honey.”

“Ok, ok, slow down, breathe, Bradley,” you chuckled, shaking your head. “Take a walk with me?”

As you and Bradley walked around the pedestrian pathway on the golf course, smiling as you spoke fondly about the baby, answering all of Bradley’s questions. 

“Well, baby’s a girl, I don’t have a name in mind for her yet, I’ve been craving oranges and Sprite, anything sweet and citrusy. I’ve been ok, better now the morning sickness finally dissipated. It feels like bubbles or something when she kicks, it’s like a fluttering, almost? I’m 28 weeks along, so I have about three months left. She looked like she has your nose on the ultrasound, there’s a 50/50 chance on her height, I sleep pretty much sitting upright because I get bad heartburn otherwise, and I play her music all the time. She likes Elvis and The Beach Boys, just like her dad.” 

Bradley’s smile spread wide across his face, a small laugh of disbelief escaping his mouth as he nodded along with your words.

“That’s great. A girl? Really? You’re gonna have a daughter running around,” he said softly, almost as if he was daydreaming about what the little girl would look like.

“We are going to have a daughter.”

“You’re gonna let me be there? After everything?”

“Bradley, as much as I hated you for what you did and how you ended things - I never truly hated you. I loved you, more than anything. I still do.”

He held you tightly, burying his face into your hair as he kissed the top of your head, murmuring softly against your hair. 

“God, I love you so much, honey. I promise, I’m never going to do something stupid like that again.”

“I know you won’t,” you laughed, shaking your head as he looked down at you, “I know you’d never leave Carly and I again.”

Bradley froze in place for a moment as he stared at you, his voice barely above a whisper as he spoke. 

“What did you call her?”

“Carly. I thought, I don’t know, after you told me about your mom just now, I thought maybe you’d like to name the baby after her? Carole’s nice too, I just figured Carly gives her a name that’s her own too, they share the same root.”

“Carly,” he nodded slowly as he repeated it, “I love it.”

Bradley took your hand in his, his large fingers enveloping your hand as he held it tightly, as if he was terrified of letting go. He made that mistake once before, he wasn’t about to do it again. 

[lnfours]

ruin the friendship | l.n

summary: i’m not sure if you’re taking requests or not but i was wondering if you would ever consider doing a fwb/roommates fic for lando like the one you did for tom? i absolutely love your writings!! -> yes anon, my requests for lando are open :))) also i listened to ‘don’t ’ by bryson tiller while writing this so feel free to listen to it while you read <3

warnings: friends with benefits!! language, sexual tension u can cut with a knife, neck kisses, nothing too crazy, jealous roommate lando 🫣

masterlist | ask box 💌 | listen

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

you stood in the kitchen, stirring the pot on the stove as soft music played from the speaker on the counter. you hummed softly, the door closing catching your attention, making you spin around in your socks. the voices entered the kitchen and you smiled at your two roommates.

“mate, you’re crazy,” max laughed, “i don’t understand how you did that.”

“because i’m a great golfer, that’s how,” lando said, putting his phone on the island as he pulled a stool out to sit, “how was your day, y/n?”

you turned back to the stove, “it was alright, i guess. got some work done, went to the store, the usual. not nearly as exciting as you two’s day it sounds.”

max smiled, patting lando’s shoulder, “mans was a beast on the green today, should’ve been there,” you shook your head with a smile, thinking about the last time the three of you were on a golf course.

let’s just say, drunk people shouldn’t drive golf karts. max continued, “oh, how was your date the other night?”

lando’s ears perked up, his head snapping away from his phone. you grabbed the pot with the oven mitts, pouring the spaghetti into the strainer, “it was alright, nothing special.”

“you went on a date?” lando didn’t mean it the way it came out. you looked over your shoulder at him, “with who?”

“some guy who was all over her the other night at the club,” max said, “was it not good?”

“he’s kind of a douche,” you said, bringing the spaghetti back to the pot and adding the sauce, “didn’t have a good time.”

“sorry to hear that, y/n,” max said before standing up, “‘mgonna go shower.”

you and lando nodded, his eyes going back to watch you as you fixed dinner. you met his eyes, “you have a staring problem, norris.”

“you didn’t tell me you were going to go on a date with that guy.” he said. you dropped the spoon in the pot, reaching up to grab plates for everyone.

“didn’t know i had to tell you all of a sudden.” you shrugged. he stood from his seat, walking over to you. you backed up against the counter, ignoring the butterflies in your stomach as he placed his hands on the counter, basically trapping you between the counter and him. he had a slight sunburn on his nose from being in the sun all afternoon, his sunglasses were still pushing back his curls, and his eyes were damn near mesmerizing.

“suppose you don’t,” he said, “did he bring you flowers at least?”

you shook your head and he clicked his tongue, reaching behind you for a plate, “that’s a shame. i would’ve brought your favorite.”

“do you even know my favorite?” you asked, eyebrows furrowed as he turned around to the stove. he put his plate down on the counter next to you.

“of course i do,” he said, “your favorite flower is a sunflower, and if im not mistaken you have a tattoo of a sunflower right…” he trailed off, lifting up the edge of your hoodie and pointing to your hip, “here.”

his finger touched the exact spot the tattoo was, his touch burning through the fabric of your sweatpants. his smirked as you met his eyes again, grabbing his plate as he moved back to the other side of the island. of course he knew where it was, it wasn’t like he hadn’t seen it before. he knew all the ins and outs of your body at this point.

“dinner smells good,” max said as he reappeared, in a t-shirt and a pair of pajama pants. he looked at you with furrowed eyebrows as you tried to regain your composure, “you alright? look like you just ran a marathon.”

you nodded, grabbing your own dinner, “i’m good.”

he nodded but still gave you a look. after dinner, max went to go stream but lando stayed back to help you clean up. you were washing dishes as he placed them in the sink. once all of them were collected, he wrapped his arms around your middle. you leaned back slightly, tilting your head to the side to let him place his head on your shoulder.

“going on dates with other guys when you still fold every time i do this?” he joked and you huffed, laughing softly.

“i don’t fold every time,” you said, “i pick and choose, and i guess today is your lucky day.”

he pressed a gentle kiss to your jaw and you couldn’t help the soft noise that came from your throat, “hmm? don’t fold every time?”

you rolled your eyes, “it’s been a while.”

“too long,” he mumbled against your shoulder.

“i need a shower,” you complained, turning around in his arms.

“me too,” he said, brushing a stray hair from your face, “wanna save some water?”

you laughed, shaking your head, “you shower with the water too cold.”

“you’re the one who likes it boiling hot! it’s a wonder you don’t pass out in there.”

you rolled your eyes, “maybe you’re just dramatic, did you think of that?”

he fake gasped, “me? dramatic? never.”

you nodded, stepping away from him, “keep telling yourself that.”

“seriously, come shower with me,” he grabbed your hips, pulling you back to him. you let out a soft laugh as he pouted, “please.”

you let his lips go to your neck, giving into him the second time today, “no, lan.”

“cmon,” he said, “it’s the least you could do for going on a date behind my back.”

“you were the one who wanted to keep this,” you waved your finger back and forth between your two bodies, “a secret.”

“not anymore,” he said, “i’ve thought about it, let me take you on a date. a proper one. i’ll get you flowers, take you to the restaurant downtown you love that you go to with your friends. i’ll pull all the stops, you deserve it.”

you smiled softly, “only if you promise to wear that black button up shirt you wore last weekend.”

he raised an eyebrow, “you liked that, huh?”

“maybe,” you smirked up at him.

“okay, then you have to wear that red dress you wore on the night out the other night.”

“deal.”

he smiled before lifting you up off your feet. you laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck, “where are we going?”

“my bed,” he said, carrying you down the hallway and shutting his bedroom door with his foot, “because now i can’t stop picturing you in that dress.”

“thought you wanted to shower?”

he sat you down on his lap, hands wandering under your hoodie as yours tugged on the hem of his golf shirt, “need you more than a shower right now.”

[evansbby]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐭 (𝒑𝒐𝒚𝒕 𝒅𝒓𝒂𝒃𝒃𝒍𝒆)

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dark alpha!Steve Rogers x naive omega!Reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: noncon, dubcon, heavy misogyny, daddy!kink, smutt in public (kind of), 18+ minors dni.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Steve takes his omega to her first pool party.

“Hey, baby. Look at this!”

Steve takes off into a run before canon-balling into the pool, making the water splash everywhere in the process. But he surfaces with a grin, flipping his hair off his forehead. His light blonde tufts look dark brown from the water, and the sun radiates against the droplets on his pale face, making him shimmer like a diamond. You can hear a bunch of people – including Natasha – complain because the splash from his jump has completely soaked them, but all Steve does is flip them off before shooting you a smug smile.

“Wow.” You say as you walk up to the edge of the pool. “That was really cool.”

Before Steve can answer, you see someone whizz past you from your peripheral. A moment later, there’s another gigantic splash as Ransom canon-balls in next to Steve, and you yelp as the water hits you. The brunette alpha surfaces with a grin that rivals Steve’s in smugness, with the latter looking on sourly as you clap politely at Ransom’s jump.

“That wasn’t nearly as impressive as mine.” Steve scoffs, eying you warningly. You immediately stop clapping. “And you splashed water all over my girlfriend, you fucking asshole.”

“It’s a pool party, Steve. God forbid she gets a bit of water on her.” Ransom rolls his eyes as he climbs out of the pool and flips Steve off before shooting you a smile which you don’t dare return.

The two of you are at Steve’s friend Ransom’s house. Or rather, in his backyard where a pool party is in full swing. It’s a particularly hot day and everyone’s either sunbathing or swimming or licking snow-cones made from Ransom’s “state of the art snow-cone machine.” (That was the first thing the brunette alpha had shown you and Steve when the two of you had arrived. He’d bought it especially for today).

“I mean, Ransom’s pool is alright.” Steve had told you earlier when the two of you were changing in the pool-house. “But you’d think it’s an Olympic size pool from the way he shows off about it. Baby, wait till you see the pool at my house, it’s twice the size of this one.”

You had nodded, although the idea of someone even owning a swimming pool of their very own – big or small – was so completely unfathomable to you. But everyone who was here today hadn’t even blinked an eye at all the luxuries this mansion had to offer. From the huge hallways and sparkling marble floors to the gigantic backyard which resembled more of a golf course. Not to mention the pool-house alone was twice the size of your house back home!

“This place is like a castle.” You had breathed, sliding your fingers over the floor-to-ceiling glass windows of the pool-house, watching the party in full swing outside. Thor was handing out cans of beer, Natasha by his side in a pretty red bikini that made her body look incredible. Ransom and Andy were making snow-cones, and Sam and Bucky looked to be organising a game of pool volleyball. There was a net set up in the water, and it looked like they were arguing about picking teams.

You could also see a bunch of girls settled on the side of the pool, in pretty bikinis and stylish sunglasses. You recognised a few of them from campus, and that made you gulp. What if Steve left you to hang out with his friends? You pray these girls are nice and you’ll fit in.

Steve had snorted, coming up behind you with his hand on your waist, pulling you into his bare chest. “This place is not like a castle, omega. I can show you castles; you just wait till you see my house.” He had kissed down the nape of your neck, the feel of his lips making you sigh until he pulls away and frowns, tugging at your shirt. “Take this off. It’s a pool party, remember?”

He takes it off for you, licking his lips when he sees what’s underneath. He had bought the bikini for you a few days ago. It was white with baby pink strings tying the thong and also going around your neck. Steve had said it was extremely sexy and cute, but you felt vulnerable as ever and paranoid every time he’d finger the strings – like he was doing now. You’d double-tied them tightly, but all he had to do was tug at them and they’d come loose.

Steve had barely given you enough time to put your flip-flops on, as well as your cute flowery cover-up, before he’d dragged you outside to the party.

Which is where you are currently, and you can’t help but smile softly down at Steve, who looks extremely proud of the cannonball he’s just performed. He swims over to where you’re standing, reaching up to grab your ankles.

“Come in. The water’s nice and cool.”

Your heart skips a beat at how laid back he’s being. This is a different side to Steve, who was usually so stoic and strict. Either that, or he was downright devious. Sometimes though, sometimes he lets himself go and relax. Like when he’s playing video-games and gets really into it, or when the two of you are cuddling and he lets Steve Junior join in, or when the two of you study together. Or now.

“I – uh – I don’t really want to swim.” You answer awkwardly, and your alpha rolls his eyes, the grip he has on your ankles not loosening. But the thought of taking your cover-up off and being in such a revealing bikini in front of all these people has you shaking your head pleadingly at him.

“It’s a pool party, omega. That means you have to swim.” Steve tells you as if you’re a baby who doesn’t understand the concept of a pool party.

You exhale softly before sitting down by the edge of the pool and dipping your feet in, sighing at how nice the water feels. And a part of you does want to go in, but you don’t know why you feel so self-conscious here. Well, actually, you do know why. It’s because you feel so out of place, in this huge mansion of a house with all these people from college whom you probably have nothing in common with. They aren’t your friends, you don’t have any friends. And they certainly don’t want to be your friends either, you just know it.

Steve settles between your legs, spreading them and smirking up at you. He presses a light kiss to your inner thigh, and it’s innocuous enough but you still look around in alarm. But no one is watching the two of you and so you try to relax.

“Relax, omega.” Steve commands you, and you get a whiff of his summery scent and sigh as it seems to soothe you from the inside out. You shoot your alpha a small smile, and he only smirks, continuing to kiss your thigh as his hands slips up and down your bare legs. You freeze when you feel his fingers lock around your ankles, the sudden image of him cruelly tugging you into the water crossing your mind.

But Steve only lifts your foot up, licking his lips as he watches your white nail polish gleam in the sunlight. You gulp when he presses a kiss on your toe, before a dark, lustful look clouds his eyes and you pull away.

“Not here, Steve! Please!” You whisper.

“Why not? You’re my omega and I can do whatever I want with you, so–”

“Hey, Steve! Great weather, huh?”

Jake Jensen swims up to Steve, a comically wide grin on his face. He’s got a thick layer of white sunscreen all over his face, with an especially thick blot on the tip of his nose. And yet, he’s still sunburnt and slightly pink to match the shade of his salmon-coloured swimming trunks.  His eyes squint as he smiles at Steve – either because of the sun or because he’s not wearing his glasses.

Steve rolls his eyes, getting in front of you to block you from Jake’s view.

“Jensen, who the fuck invited you?”

“Uh, Ransom did? He invited the whole football team! This sure is a swell pool, huh, Steve? I’ve got one too – well, my parents do. But it’s not as big as this one.”

“I’m sure it isn’t.” Steve says drily, “Hey! Eyes on me, Jensen. Don’t even think about looking at her.”

“I wasn’t–”

“I know your angle, you fucking creep. Swimming over here and trying to act all casual so you can get a close up look at my girlfriend in her bikini.”

Jake blinks, his eyes zeroing in on you peaking over Steve’s shoulder. “I didn’t even notice her, actually, but–”

“Are you insulting my girlfriend now, Jensen? Are you fucking insinuating that she’s not noticeable?!”

“What? No–”

“Shut up, you fucking idiot. And get away from us. In fact, get out of the whole pool.” Steve points to the far corner of the backyard, where a jacuzzi bubbles away on its lonesome. “Go sit in there, Jensen. I’m banning your creepy ass from this pool. Now go before I kick you off the football team.”

You watch as Jake hurriedly swims away, a look of dismay on his face. “Steve, you shouldn’t be so mean to him– Hey!”

You yelp as your alpha’s muscular arms encircle around you, pulling you into the pool with a gentle splash. Your arms automatically go around his neck, and your legs – unable to reach the floor of the pool – instinctively wrap around his waist until you’re clinging to him like a koala.

“There. Now none of these creeps can stare at your body.” Steve’s hand slips down to squeeze your ass underwater and you jump in surprise, inadvertently rubbing your front against his crotch. His eyes darken and he clutches you closer, till you can feel his hard dick through his trunks rub against your mound which is barely concealed by your bikini. You fight yourself in order not to moan, shooting Steve a pleading look only to find that his eyes are too busy staring at your cleavage, which is ample and wet and pressed up against his chest.

“God, you’re so fucking sexy, omega.” Steve says, leaning forward to kiss you roughly. He bites at your bottom lip, almost drawing blood as his hands continue to fondle you. You feel your walls clench but you have to remind yourself that you’re in a pool with a bunch of other people. Meanwhile, underwater, Steve’s hand slips under your bikini bottoms, cupping your bare ass cheek and jiggling it lewdly.

“Fuck, why’d you have to wear such a tiny, slutty bikini, huh?” Steve whispers, licking the shell of your ear sensually and sending thrills up and down your spine. “You think you can look this sexy and cute and I won’t fuck you in the middle of this pool right now?”

“B-But, Steve! You chose this bikini!”

“Don’t lie, baby omega.” He pinches your ass again before his fingers tug threateningly at the flimsy string holding your bikini bottoms to your body. “Now everyone’s staring at your hot, tight little body because they all want to fuck you. But they can’t, because that’s my job.”

“Please don’t take my bikini off!” You plead softly, as he continues to play with the strings of your bikini-bottoms. You try to swim away from him, but he holds on tightly to you, shooting you a warning look before his eyes grow distracted by your breasts again, and his hands cup them both.

“Who told you to tease me like this, huh?” He kisses up your neck, squeezing and fondling your breasts like an animal pawing at his prey, “Who told you to wear such a tight, sexy bikini and push your tits up so they look all sexy? God, you’re killing me, baby. And I know you’re doing it on purpose, just like you always do.”

You know Steve well enough at this point to realise that when he’s riled up and horny, he tends to accuse you of baseless things like leading him on purposely. But all you’re trying to do at this very moment is make sure he doesn’t slip his dick inside you at this pool party in front of everyone. Because Steve could really be a menace when he wanted to, and his libido knew no bounds. He would definitely fuck you in front of an audience, no questions asked. In fact, he’d happily do it.

“Who’s that?” You blurt out in a desperate bid to distract him. You look toward the gates where Ransom is greeting a pretty brunette girl who you’ve never seen before. Steve follows your gaze and snorts.

“That’s Marta, Ransom’s new girlfriend.”

“Oh. She’s very pretty.” You comment, taking note of how Ransom looks genuinely happy to see her. He picks her up and swings her around, and she laughs and bats him with her purse before they kiss.

“She’s a gold-digging slut.” Steve says darkly.

“What?”

“You heard me. She has a reputation for being the biggest gold-digger in New York and everyone knows it.” Steve holds you close, as if physically shielding you from getting influenced by Marta, who isn’t even looking at either of you. “Instead of getting a degree like the rest of us, she’s been steadily seducing half the male population in the city, and getting them to buy her whatever she wants.”

“But I thought you preferred it when omegas didn’t get degrees?”

You don’t know where the quip comes from, but you regret it as soon as the words leave your mouth. Steve shoots you a warning look and you quickly bow your head submissively, “I’m sorry.”

“You better be. One more slip-up like that and I’ll spank you in front of everyone,” Steve threatens before continuing, “Omegas have no business getting degrees, but they also have no business acting like gold-digging sluts. Anyways, all of us tried to warn Ransom but he’s a fucking idiot, clearly.”

You look towards the couple once again; Ransom is making Marta a personalised snow-cone, drawing a sloppily-drawn heart out of strawberry syrup on top of the shaved ice. Marta claps excitedly, giving Ransom a kiss on the cheek. They look pretty happy and genuine to you, but Steve probably knows better?

You mull over all this new information, “B-But Steve, you buy me tons of expensive stuff all the time. Do people think I’m a gold-digger?”

Steve presses a bunch of kisses on your neck, holding you tightly against him as if he’s afraid you’ll float away. “No, baby. No one would dare make that assumption about you, because I would kill them. And anyways, you’re too cute and innocent and humble to be a gold-digger. Not like Marta, who is a whore.”

You wrinkle your nose, “Steve, please don’t say that…”

“She is, though. She made Ransom buy her a Birkin bag when he’d only known her two weeks.”

You’re wondering why Steve seems so incensed over a simple bag when suddenly–

“You sure do love to gossip, don’t you, Steve?”

Natasha walks over to the corner of the swimming pool where you and Steve are. She’s wrapped a silky black sarong around her hips, and it looks good with her deep red bikini.

“And you sure do love to eavesdrop, don’t you?” Steve fires back, his grip on you tightening possessively.

Natasha rolls her eyes and looks from Steve to you, “Don’t listen to Steve. Marta’s a great girl, we used to go to the same yoga class a few years ago.”

“Of course, you think she’s great.” Steve remarks, sneering at Nat as if she’s a disease, but the redhead remains unperturbed, shooting him a sweet smile before looking back to you.

“Let’s hang out soon. I can fill you in on all the real gossip, and –”

“She doesn’t want to hang out with you.” Steve answers on your behalf. You wince, because it’s not true at all! You’d love to hang out with Natasha, and she’s always inviting you out, either to shop or grab brunch. But Steve never gives you permission to go, because he claims Natasha is a bad influence. You wish you were brave enough to stand up to Steve but you’re not, so instead you just shoot Natasha an apologetic look, and the redhead smiles understandingly back at you.

“Steve! Come on, we’re playing volleyball and you’re on my team!” Sam calls out from the other side of the pool.  

Steve makes a face before shouting back, “I’m busy with my girlfriend!”

“She can play too.” Bucky walks up with the volleyball under his arm, “She can be on my team, we could use an extra player since we got stuck with Jensen.” He gives you a meaningful stare, his cold blue eyes raking you up and down, making you shrink back into Steve. But the brunette alpha smoothly looks away as soon as Steve glances at him.

“Haha, very funny. Omegas don’t play sports.” Steve gives you a kiss on the cheek and a condescending pat on your bum which you’re happy is underwater so no one sees. His lips brush against your ear, “I’m gonna go play for a while, okay, baby?”

You nod, “That’s alright, Steve. I’ll just stay here.”

Steve looks at you, then at Natasha, then back at you before narrowing his eyes, “Don’t talk to her. Just watch me play, okay?”

“Okay.” You cross your fingers behind your back, hoping he won’t see.

He kisses you some more, claiming it’s a good luck kiss but it quickly turns into a good luck make-out before Bucky drags him away.

You climb out of the pool, regretting it instantly because you feel all wet and exposed. But Natasha hands you a big, fluffy towel, and you gratefully wrap it around yourself before she tugs you over to a couple of deck chairs.

“Steve is so bossy,” Natasha giggles, and you follow her gaze to the other side of the pool. There’s a net set up and Steve is already busy explaining strategies to his team members, before telling them exactly where to stand and what to do.

“Yeah.” You agree softly.

“I bet the only one he really listens to is you, am I right?”

Your eyes widen, “Oh no, Steve doesn’t really… I, uh, I could never tell him what to do.”

Natasha stretches and lays down on her deck chair, “I mean, I tell Thor to load the dishwasher or empty the drier, that kind of stuff.”

You look down to your lap, “Oh, well, Steve says that household chores are an omega’s job.” You pause, your eyes focused on Steve as he slams the volleyball straight at Jensen’s face. Jensen yelps, his glasses flying into the water as Steve laughs and high-fives Sam. You suddenly grow paranoid, wondering if your words will somehow get back to him. “I don’t mind doing the household chores at all, though! Actually, I find it very relaxing.” (This isn’t even a lie).

Natasha nods thoughtfully, “Yeah, I don’t mind it either. But you could definitely get Steve to help you out.”

You smile, not saying anything. You certainly doubted you could make Steve do anything.

The redhead sits up straight, “I’m serious, though! Next time you’re unloading the dishwasher, just be like ‘Oh no, these dishes…they’re so heavy!’ Trust me, watch how he’ll make you sit down and do it all himself. Alphas eat the whole ‘damsel in distress’ thing right up.”

You mull over it; maybe that would work… Steve never ever let you do any heavy-lifting around the house. You weren’t even allowed to take the trash out, and sometimes he’d even take the laundry basket out of your hands if it looked too heavy. “Baby omegas like you shouldn’t be lifting heavy things,” he’d always say.

Relaxing and sitting back, all warm in your fluffy towel, you listen as Natasha gives you more relationship advice. She tells you all the “little things” you can do to control your alpha, like dress up in sexy lingerie and withhold sex until he agrees to your demands. Or keep him on his toes by not answering his texts immediately, and ignoring him so that it drove him crazy. You knew most of these ideas would never work with Steve, but it was nice to listen to her speak anyways, plus it also gave you an interesting insight on her relationship with Thor.

Steve’s team wins the volleyball match, and he comes back to you with a smug smile on his face. Swooping you up in his arms and giving you the biggest kiss ever, till your cheeks are hot and your heart is racing.

“Did you see me?” He asks, kissing you all over your face as if Natasha isn’t a foot away from you two, “Did you see how I scored that last point?”

“Yes,” you lie, because you had dozed off for the past few minutes under the deliciously warm sun and the fluffiness of your towel, “You were really good!”

“Damn right. And did you see how bad Jensen was?”

Steve gives you a detailed play-by-play of the whole game, whilst also simultaneously carrying you off to the hot-tub in the corner of the yard. Natasha waves you goodbye before skipping over to Thor, and you watch her bat him on the shoulder before he throws her into the pool, jumping in after her.

“…and then Bucky rage quit because his team was so shit, and I think he actually left and drove home.” Steve shakes his head, “Classic Bucky. He can’t ever take a loss.”

He gently places you into the hot tub, and you sigh as you sink into the hot, steamy, bubbling water. It’s deep, almost up to your neck when you sit down. But Steve has other plans, hastily pulling you into his lap once he’s settled down as well. In fact, he places you right on top of his hard bulge, which is definitely noticeable underneath his trunks.

“So, is my baby omega gonna give me a reward for winning?” He pinches your ass, a mischievous glint in his eye. His hands settle on your hips, grinding you down against his bulge and smirking when you yelp and grab onto his chest and shoulders.

“Not here!” You gasp, earning another pinch to your ass.

“Really? Is that why you keep grinding your cute little butt on my dick?”

“I’m not!”

“Don’t lie to me, omega.” Steve draws you closer with his big hand on the back of your neck, kissing you roughly, his hands fondling every part of your body. He keeps one hand squarely on your ass, his fingers digging between your ass cheeks and prodding at your puckered hole through the thin material of your bikini. You gasp straight into his mouth, and he just smirks against your lips, not allowing you to break the kiss as his other hand slips up to squeeze your breast. His thumb brushes against your hard nipple, and he tries to pull your bikini top off before you manage to fend him away.

“Not here, Steve, please!” You beg, not knowing how far he’d go. His eyes are almost black with lust, as if he’s horny off of winning the volleyball game and impressing you. And a part of you knew this would happen, that this was inevitable the moment he made you put on this extra revealing bikini in the first place. But you’d hoped he’d have at least dragged you off somewhere private, instead of the hot-tub which was out in the open with everyone still milling around.

“Address me properly, baby omega.” Steve whispers in your ear, his tone dripping with lust. “And you shouldn’t have put on this slutty bikini if you didn’t want me to fuck you in front of everyone. All these guys have been staring at you all day. Now I have to show them all how I own you.”

His fingers play with the string that’s holding your bikini top together, his other hand now tracing shapes on the exposed skin of your butt cheek. He gives it a jiggle, smirking when you clutch him harder, your hands wrapping around his neck in an effort to calm yourself down.

“I think you should take your bikini off. Daddy wants to see your tits.”

You shake your head pleadingly, “No, Steve – I mean daddy – please, I can’t do that!”

He doesn’t even blink, his eyes focused on your cleavage which is practically spilling out of the bikini. He licks his lips, a carnality suddenly taking over his being and he grabs the flimsy cups of your bikini and pulls them downwards, exposing your breasts. You don’t even have time to react before his mouth latches on to one of your nipples, his other hand covering your other breast by squeezing it.

You bite your lip to contain your moan, but Steve moans freely around your nipple as he suckles it. His tongue licks sensually around your hardened peak, making you jolt in his lap. He holds you down firmly, digging his boner up between your ass. He sucks your nipple as if he’s starving, biting at it as if he wants to make you scream, but you stop yourself just in time.

“You’re so fucking sexy, baby.” Steve tells you, “I almost lost concentration a few times during that volleyball game. All I could think about was you looking all cute and sexy, wearing this slutty bikini as if you were begging me to fuck you.”

“Daddy – ah! – can we do this at home please?” You ask, because now you can feel yourself getting turned on. Despite your embarrassment and discomfort, you can feel your pussy clench at his degrading dirty talk.

“No. And stop telling me to stop or else I’ll fuck you on that deck chair, right in the middle of everyone.” He stops suckling on your nipple for a second, pinching it instead as he looks at you thoughtfully, “Actually, no. Keep telling me to stop because I like it when you do that. Reminds me how weak and babyish you are.” He licks a stripe up the side of your face before kissing your cheek sloppily, “Beg me again, say: ‘daddy, please stop.’”

“Daddy, please stop!” You moan pitifully, your brain wanting him to stop but your body not quite agreeing as you feel your hips involuntarily jut against him. And you’re just about to lose control, just about to give in to him because he feels so good and he smells so enticing and he’s your daddy so he’s in charge and the omega inside you is purring and wanting to do exactly what he orders you to, and then–

“Mind if we join you guys?”

Ransom plops into the hot tub, with Marta hot on his heels. Your eyes widen, and Steve huffs in annoyance before pushing your bikini back up to cover your breasts. The tub is bigger than most, and big enough that Ransom and Marta are able to sit a few feet away from you and Steve. They’re too busy talking to notice anything, but Steve double-knots your bikini strings just in case, glaring daggers at the couple sitting across from you.

You try to slip off Steve’s lap after that, but he holds you in place and shoots you a warning look. So you sit there, your back against Steve’s chest and his hard dick poking angrily against your butt.

“I was just telling Marta how similar you and I are, Steve.” Ransom pipes up.

“Oh yeah? How so?” Steve asks sardonically. You can tell he’s pissed off at being interrupted, which is never a good sign. You remember once he was about to fuck you in the locker room before the coach had called him. Steve had been seething, and with all that pent-up sexual frustration, you knew you were in for it once he was done. Right now was no different.

Ransom sits back, his arm around Marta who sips coolly on a frozen strawberry daquiri. You hadn’t really paid attention to it, but there was also an open bar in the corner of the backyard, with the alphas taking turns making drinks. Thankfully, Steve hadn’t drank tonight – otherwise he’d have been ten times hornier than he was now.

“We’re both wifed up and in serious relationships.” Ransom draws Marta close, and she nuzzles her nose against his neck. “And you know what? Now I get what all the hype is about. Marta and I have been talking about marking each other up too, and –”

Ransom drones on and on, and you nod politely. Steve, on the other hand, stiffens underneath you. You can tell he’s resisting the urge to roll his eyes. What you didn’t count on is his dick driving up into you at that exact moment. You almost gasp out loud before covering it up by pretending to clear your throat. His hands rub up and down your thighs, and you’re so happy this is all happening under the water otherwise you’d never be able to live it down.

Marta excuses herself to get another drink, Ransom’s eyes following her as she leaves, a lovesick look on his face.

“Bro, you’re pathetic.” Steve sneers, and all the while his hands are slipping up till he cups your core through your bikini bottoms, making your breath hitch. “You’ve only been seeing her for two weeks.”

“So?”

“So, you need to chill the fuck out.”

Steve pushes your bikini bottoms to the side, exposing your bare core to the hot water. Fuck. His thick fingers probe and explore your slick folds, and you cannot believe what he’s doing because Ransom is only a few feet away from you guys. And Steve’s casually giving out advice as if he isn’t about to finger you under the water this very second!

Ransom sighs, “I know, but she isn’t just some random hookup, okay? I actually have feelings for her.”

You’re barely able to focus on the two alphas’ conversation, your face and neck heating up as you squirm on Steve’s lap. A part of you feels so degraded, sitting on your alpha’s lap as if you’re nothing more than a decorative toy for him to play with while he talks to his friend. It’s what he’s doing right now, his pointer finger circling your clit casually while he holds you close in his lap.

“If you want to be the dumbass who gets played by an omega, then suit yourself, bro.” Steve shrugs, focusing his attention back on you. Ransom looks torn, and you secretly hope he doesn’t take Steve’s advice too seriously. You don’t know much about gold-diggers or relationships in general, but Ransom and Marta look genuine from what you’ve seen. Not that you have time to dwell over their situation, because Steve chooses that exact moment to slip two fingers inside you.

“Oh, oh fu-” You cry out.

Ransom frowns, “You okay?”

“Don’t talk to my girl!” Steve warns.

“Ex-Excuse me.” You squeak, managing to get up off of Steve’s lap while he’s momentarily distracted. You step out of the hot tub before he can stop you, quickly wrapping yourself in your fluffy towel. “Bathroom.” You explain, before speed-walking over to the pool-house, inwardly praying you don’t slip and embarrass yourself in your hasty exit.

Heart drumming, you safely make it to the pool house and make a beeline for the bathroom. You’ve only just managed to catch your breath when the door opens and closes behind you. You barely have time to register what’s happening before Steve pushes you forward, bending you over the marble sink and giving you four hard slaps to the ass in quick succession.

“Bad girl.” Steve tuts, “What got into you, huh? Running away from daddy like that?”

“I’m sorry, I just… Steve it would’ve been so inappropriate to do that in front of everyone!”

“What’s inappropriate is slutty baby omegas like you wearing sexy bikinis to distract me. You forced my hand, baby.” He swiftly rips your bikini bottoms apart, squeezing your ass cheeks with both his hands, till you know his handprints will be imprinted on your skin. “Well, we’re all alone now, omega. There’s nowhere for you to run.”

He presses his hard dick against your wet folds, and you sigh involuntarily, rutting back against him. In the privacy of this bathroom, you can finally relax.

“I’m gonna fuck you on every inch of every surface inside this bathroom,” Steve promises darkly in your ear, sucking and biting at your earlobe before pressing a kiss to the nape of your neck, “and then I’m gonna drag you outside and fuck you against the glass doors of this pool house. You got that, omega?”

“Y-Yes, daddy.”

THE END. I know i know i know that ended super abruptly, but trust me when i tell you i could’ve gone on and on and ON and this was just meant to be a small drabble!!! PLEASE tell me what you think and reblog pls!!! ily ily ily and this was really random and idek if it’s any good but please just let me know what you think! ALSO YES, steve is such a menace in this and idk if this is canon compliant but it’s a poyt drabble so here we goooo!!! LEMME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK OK BYE

[vivwritesfics]

No Need To Ask

Chapter Twenty-Four - Taken

The Norris' were a notorious crime family in the UK. One of many. With Norris, the head of the family, running operations with his son, Lando, they work to keep Y/N Norris, Norris' daughter protected. Life in a crime family wasn't something they wanted for her.

But with tension with one of the Spanish crime families rise, Norris and his now deceased wife come up with only one plan, offer their daughter to the Sainz's or risk an all out war.

1.7K words

Series Masterlist

Lando Norris did exactly what he said he was going to do. Now that there were no threats held over them, he flew to the Netherlands. Only two of his men were with him as he used his private jet to pick up his sister.

His knee bounced as the jet landed in the Verstappen hangar. Lando had called ahead, told Verstappen what was going on. Verstappen was more than happy to oblige. (Verstappen was a very cold and calculating man. He didn't much care that Y/N was in his house and left Max to deal with her. She was more a bother than anything else to him and he was more than happy to get rid of her).

Max wasn't happy with Y/N leaving the Verstappen stronghold. In her he'd developed a friendship, and she had been something of a perfect (platonic) companion. Happy to spend time with him while he did his thing and she did her own thing.

They watched movies together, just happy to spend time around each other. It made the time that Carlos was away pass quickly and distracted her from missing him terribly.

But she did still miss him terribly.

Max stood beside Y/N, several of his fathers men surrounding them as Lando's jet touched down in front of them. "I'm gonna try and get into contact with Carlos, tell him where you've gone," He called over the sound of Lando's jet.

"Just don't make him worried!" Y/N called, Lando walking off of the jet. "I don't want him panicking while he's busy!"

Max nodded his head as Lando strode over, round sunglasses covering his eyes. "Let's go," he said the moment he reached his sister, grasping a hold of her arm. Behind his sunglasses his eyes glanced down, looking towards the bump that wasn't there yet.

But she didn't let him pull her away. Y/N stepped away from her brother and launched herself at Max, wrapping her arms around him. "Thank you," she whispered and kissed his cheek.

Lando gave Max a nod and grabbed a hold of his sister once again. He gently pulled her away, pulling her back towards the jet. This time she went with him, walking up the steps and climbing into the jet.

Before she knew it, they were in the air, leaving the Netherlands and getting further away from the country she now called home.

***

For twelve weeks Carlos was stuck in Spain, missing his pretty little wife. He had no pictures of her, nothing to remind him of her. In those twelve weeks, Carlos had never felt so lonely.

Was this how she felt during the start of their marriage? Regret filled him when he thought about it.

He wanted her home. Now.

But he couldn't. Carlos couldn't have her home until he knew the house was completely safe.

The first thing finished was the door, the one that needed a retina scan to get in. It was incredibly expensive, but Carlos would spend all of the money in the world to keep Y/N safe.

New cameras, new gates and new alarm systems had been installed. Carlos got rid of his at home golf course, filling in the holes and flattening out the banks.

Instead of the golf course, he had a play area installed. A little slide, a sand box, swings, and more. Carlos was also having a small slide installed in the pool. He was going to give their little one everything.

As the walls were built around the house, Carlos emptied out his room opposite his own. Well, it wasn't his room anymore. It was theirs, his and Y/N's. Anyway, he emptied out the room opposite, which was once a guest bedroom, and painted the walls.

Pink or blue were the colours he spent way too long debating over. But he didn't go with either colour, instead painting the walls a nice, olive green.

It was just the base. What Carlos wanted more than anything for their baby's bedroom was a mural of animals. A collection of jungle animals in trees, painted on the walls, or badgers and foxes prancing around in sweaters (but Carlos was leaning more towards the jungle animals).

His laptop was full of open tabs of baby things. A crib, a mobile to hang above the bed, a wardrobe (one pink and princess themed, one cream, ready for the couple to decorate it). He'd picked out giraffe rug to go with the potential jungle mural, and a collection of books, some in English and some in Spanish.

Carlos hated that he was doing it without Y/N, but it made him miss her just a little bit less, getting the room ready for baby Valentina or baby Oscar.

He ordered the crib, but everything else he'd do with Y/N. As Carlos sat on the floor of the baby's room, he smiled to himself. He couldn't wait to have the two of them home.

***

Oscar stepped out of the car, looking at the familiar house. It was fortified now, with high walls and two gates before you got to the main house. But it wasn't quite finished yet, the Spanish mansion looking like a construction site.

On Carlos's command, Oscar had been allowed through. Carlos opened the door, allowing him in, and Oscar ran up to the office.

But Carlos wasn't in the office. He was opposite and over one, in the room that was for the baby.

Oscar gently knocked on the door before allowing himself in. The door had been painted cream, a different colour to the rest of the doors in the house, with a space left for a name.

"Hey," said Oscar as he looked down at Carlos, constructing the crib. "Where did you send her?"

Carlos placed the piece of crib he was constructing to one side and let out a sigh. "I sent her to the Verstappens," he said and leaned back on his palms. "I sent her somewhere she would be safe, and Norris decided he wanted to bring her back to England."

Oscar glared at the floor. "Well, at least she's with family now," he said, trying to justify it as he leaned against the wall.

"Just one more week and I will bring her home," Carlos said and looked up at Oscar.

Oscar pulled off his suit jacket and got to work. He helped Carlos set up the crib and hung the mobile above it. The two of them worked together to put together the book case. "I was going to wait for Y/N to do all of this," said Carlos as they screwed the bookshelf into the wall, preventing it from ever toppling over.

"Sorry," Oscar said somewhat sheepishly as he pulled his suit jacket back over his shoulders. "But this was fun. Have you guys thought of names?"

Carlos only smirked.

***

The Norris house wasn't well fortified. It wasn't fortified at all. But Lando didn't have anybody he loved and wanted to protect, so he didn't do anything to make the house more secure.

There were a few extra cameras and a few alarms on the doors. But that was it.

And then Lando brought Y/N home. He brought his sister back to her house, a place she hadn't been to since their fathers funeral. So much had changed since then. She was carrying a child now, actually in love with the man she had been forced to marry.

Even though the Norris house wasn't well fortified, Y/N couldn't stop herself from feeling safe. This was her childhood home, where she had grown up.

Once again, just as they had at the start of this story, Y/N and Lando sat in the library, playing a game of chess. She was winning, as she always did.

Normality was nice. But, as nice as it was, Y/N missed her husband.

"Your chess game has gone down hill," said Lando as she took his queen. Yes she was winning, but it had taken a lot longer than Lando expected.

Y/N looked at her brother through her lashes. She hadn't played chess for the entire time that they had been in the safehouse. She knew she'd lost her touch, but she was still winning. Her time in this house was going to be spent playing chess.

Lando tried to spend as much time with her as he could. Who knew when Carlos was going to come and get her, to take his sister away from him again?

Y/N had been in the Norris house for four weeks before she started showing. Just a small bump, she didn't need to start wearing stretchy clothing just yet.

"Have you thought of names?" Asked Lando as they ate breakfast together after four weeks of living together again.

Y/N swallowed her breakfast. "Briefly, yeah. We talked about it just before he flew back to Spain," she said, leaning her head against her hand.

"If it's a boy would you name it after dad?"

Y/N looked at her brother. She hadn't even considered naming the child after her father. Guilt settled in her stomach as she realised she considered Oscar as the namesake before she thought about her father. But no, she wanted to name the baby after Oscar and that she was going to do (if it was a boy).

Time worked in a funny way. She had spent ten weeks back in her childhood home, twelve weeks in total away from her husband. Y/N didn't know it, but this was the day he was coming back to her, returning her to the home he had now made safe for them.

But she'd never find that out.

Like I said, the Norris house wasn't well fortified. Lando had only been targeted once and that was it, he didn't think he needed to fortify it more. Maybe it was his age, or his lack of experience as a head of family.

They broke into the house in the early hours of the morning. Those that had been on watch were tired after hours protecting the house.

It was easy for them to climb in through Y/N's bedroom window, knock her out before she knew what had happened, and take her away.

Taglist (CLOSED): @multi-universe21 @formulas-bitch @gills-lounge @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @carlossainzwho @f1lov3r @samaib11 @charli123456789 @queenofmanydreams @ironmaiden1313 @vellicora @glitterf1 @80sloverry @lightdragonrayne @moonayu @bellsalabanccini @topguncultleader @handsupforamiracle @cmleitora @jenniferrvsesi @barcelonaloverf1life @sbella13 @nicolettecallednikki @darleneslane @thehufflepuffavenger1 @champagneproblems17 @aespie @yukheizcigarettes @rewmuslupin @hollie911 @ashy-kit @ririgy @stqrgir1 @zaynzierulez @minkyungseokie @rafaaoli @carolinesainz @ashies-ln4op81aa22 @measimp @mizelophsun11 @eviethetheatrefreak @andydrysdalerogers @formulaal @graciewrote @biancathecool @evans-dejong @sparklyperfectionstranger @venusesworld @goldenharrysworld @cassie0sstuff @gracielukey @watermelonworries @celesteblack08 @shobaes @chonkybonky

[wileys-russo]

hey! no clue if your requests are open but if they are how about leah x reader where leah plans a date where they go golfing, hoping to impress reader with her skills but reader actually plays golf too and ends up being better than leah at it. so leah is just completely dumbfounded and slightly annoyed (in a good way) but also impressed. also cueing some teasing from r about being better.

big swing II l.williamson

"this is where we're spending the day?" you laughed as leah pulled up to the golf course, grinning at you as she parked the car. "i told you we were doing an outdoor activity and to dress for the occasion." leah hurried out of the car and to your side, popping open your door.

"thank you, charmer." you smiled, pecking her lips as she closed the door after you. "when the hell did you pack those?" you shook your head as leah popped her boot, grabbing out a set of clubs.

"never you mind my girl." leah grinned. "oh you're a sick sick woman." you sighed, seeing the engraved LW on each club, your girlfriend shoving your head playfully before slinging the clubs over her shoulder, locking her car and holding out her hand for you to take.

she booked you both in, promising to take you out for lunch afterwards as you watched on in amusement as she made a point to greet everyone you came across, relishing in the fact they all knew her by name, glancing at you out of the corner of her eye clearly trying to impress you.

she made sure to introduce you to everyone as her girlfriend, dropping the word as often as she could with a proud grin on her face. "hey stewart, can you hook my girlfriend up with a set of clubs please?" leah leant forward on the counter with a charming smile toward the older man.

"i'm just gonna go put my clubs in the cart love." leah murmured quietly, kissing the side of your head and stepping outside as stewart brought out a few different sets for you to try.

selecting the ones you were happy with you were quick to pay for them before your girlfriend returned, earning yourself an annoyed scowl from the taller blonde as you met her outside, handing her your chosen clubs to load in the back of the cart with her own.

"today was supposed to be on me, cheeky girl." leah tutted as you slid into the cart beside her, kissing her cheek and mumbling a thank you into the skin as she started the cart, driving you to the first hole.

"you go first babe, show me how its done." you waved for her to start as leah hopped out of the cart, riffling through her clubs and pulling out her driver, sending you a wink as you leaned against the cart, dropping your sunglasses down onto your nose as she positioned herself.

you clapped politely at leahs first shot which sailed straight down the green, the blonde nodding in satisfaction as she made her way back to you. "do you want a hand picking out which club to use?" leah offered with a somewhat cocky smile, and so deciding to play into her ego you nodded.

leah selecting your club she took your hand and guided you to the tee, making a show of demonstrating where your hands go and how to swing, only stepping away once you assured you were okay.

you smiled to yourself as your first shot went straight, it didn't go as far as leah's but it did remain on the fairway and you shrugged happily. "nice shot gorgeous, must have a good teacher!" leah winked as the two of you drove down to where your balls sat.

"mmm something like that."

~

it turns out, it was something like that however not what leah imagined.

she'd taken you golfing in hopes of being able to show off, wanting you to be impressed and proud as well as giving herself an opportunity to get a little handsy with you as she showed you the ropes.

however, leahs plan was unraveling with every hole the two of you played. you'd rejected needing her help and much to leahs absolute horror you were winning.

by now she'd put two and two together that you'd clearly played before, your shots all effortlessly successful as you'd send her a smile and a wink afterward, asking if there was anything she'd have you do differently as your teacher, only winding up the defender further.

"so. did you plan on ever telling me you're secretly a golf pro?" the blonde asked moodily as you returned by her side after making a birdie with a happy grin. "you never asked." you smiled smugly, stealing a kiss and gesturing for her to take her shot.

"you never asked." the blonde mocked under her breath with a huff, only widening your smile at how much this was getting to her. her annoyance grew as she missed an easy putt, smacking her club into the ground and swearing loudly.

"hey hey williamson we treat our tools with respect here, this isn't a football pitch there isn't someone who comes and fixes the grass at half time." you teased, the blonde sending you a murderous glare as you grinned, blowing her a kiss as she tapped her ball in and made her way back to you.

"don't be a sore loser." you cooed, grabbing her face and kissing her cheek repeatedly as she pushed you off. "i love golf! why didn't you tell me you were so good, we could have played together already." leah pouted with a frown, crossing her arms over her chest.

"because i hate golf. the only reason i'm decent is because its the only way my dad ever tried to bond with me, we spent almost every second sunday playing golf and he was not a patient teacher." you laughed, grabbing her hands and squeezing them gently.

"you'd still destroy me on the football pitch lee, now stop being so stroppy." you kissed her knuckles. "we're going for a kick around for our next date then." leah decided firmly making you laugh and agree, pulling the older girl into a proper kiss.

"now, would you like me to show you how to properly swing captain?" "oh fuck off!"

[vividwritinglove]

his boat - Carlos Sainz

————————————————————————

pairing: Carlos Sainz Jr x fem!reader

words: 1.8K

warning: smut (minors dni)

————————————————————————

Now you are lying here. In the blazing sun, in a skinny bikini, on the most beautiful boat you've ever seen, in a bay of a Balearic island. You could not have imagined a more beautiful summer. In general, five weeks ago, you didn't expect to experience such a summer at all. And that with him, Carlos Sainz Jr.

You met him in a nightclub in Budapest at the after parties of the Grand Prix. He was the one who saw you first and immediately took the initiative to approach you. A casual conversation turned into a playful flirtation, which ended in a hot make-out session. After just a few hours, he desired you so much that he had to see you again! He wanted you. He needed you.

For you, it was a harmless fling that might end in a one-night stand. No kiss in the morning, no hard feelings. You enjoyed the moment and let yourself go. And before you knew it, you were smitten by him! Never before did you get this kind of attention. He made you feel like the most beautiful woman on earth. The sweet nothings he whispered in your ear with his strong Spanish accent would haunt you for months. You were sure of it!

He took you back to his hotel room and quickly it was clear where it was going. But he didn't just take what he wanted. He gave so much back. He was very attentive, immediately noticed what your body reacted to pleasurably and applied it conscientiously in the following rounds. Rounds, several. This man had the highest sex drive you have ever experienced. It is still a mystery to you how you kept up with him. Probably the curiosity and the secrecy he brought with him.

There was no thought of sleep and as soon as the first rays of sunlight fell into the room, you squirmed out of his arms and packed up your belongings. Your cell phone lay on a nightstand cabinet right next to him. As you were about to reach for it, his hand held you back by your wrist. Earlier, he had been sound asleep, so you look at him, a little startled.

"Stay." he murmurs in a raspy morning voice, with tousled hair and a sleepy dreamy look on his face, "At least for breakfast."

And breakfast turned into dinner, another night once again filled with lustful and mind-blowing sex, leading to another breakfast including a day on the golf course. He invited you to the Grand Prix in Belgium. You declined, your plane was going back home the next day and your work was already waiting for you. You exchanged numbers and wrote animated messages since you parted ways at the airport. You weren’t looking for anything. Men like him only break your heart. So stick to: Only sex, no hard feelings. You kept telling it to yourself.

The messages became more intense. More intimate. Until he wrote how much he missed you and couldn’t wait to see you again. You would be lying if you said you didn't like it. He wanted to get to know you and remained persistent. After Spa was the summer break and he wants to spend it with you. Only with you. All alone. He persuaded you with the tongues of angels. He's damn good at it. And in the end, he succeeded. You requested a workation and before you knew it, you were already spending the third week with him on Mallorca.

He pampers you from head to toe. Takes you out to the best restaurants, goes shopping with you, shows you his favorite places on the island and night after night you have uninhibited and passionate sex. It feels like a dream. Almost too good to be true. You enjoy every second of it. Like now, when you're tanning in the Spanish sun on his boat as your peace is suddenly disturbed by cold drops of salt water. You wince and pull your new sunglasses off your nose, "Hey!" you exclaim indignantly. You blink up at him, and he stands triumphantly above you, blocking out the sun. His facial expressions were barely visible because of the shadows. More drops of water roll off his well-toned, tanned torso and continue to land on you. He runs a hand through his hair and tucks it back.

"I don't want you to get burned..." he warns you, presumably referring to the sun.

"I won't." you reply confidently, but you don't really know what you mean by that.

Carlos runs his fingers over his mouth. He can't deny it. He is crazy about you. You've flashed him and he needs you in his life. Slowly, he gets down on his knees and settles between your legs. Gladly, you open them invitingly and grant him the space he needs. He leans forward and props himself up on his forearms next to your head. Immediately, you sink into his warm brown eyes, which seem so dominant and caring at the same time. His nose lightly touches yours and as soon as you feel the contact, you close your eyes and lift your chin. With a grin on his lips, he kisses you. Gently, almost tentatively. Rarely has anyone kissed you so well. His kisses taste salty from the seawater. Your hands wander into his wet curls as your kiss intensifies. He moans into your mouth and breathes your name excitedly. You want more. You want him. Now. In the middle of the day, on this boat. You don't care if or who sees you. Fortunately, today Carlos has headed for a bay that no one but you have visited so far.

He will follow your request. Immediately. His lips wander and now they caress the sensitive skin of the crook of your neck. In response, you wrap your legs around his middle and draw in a sharp breath as his wet and cool swim trunks touch your inner thighs. You feel more than just that. Greedily, you bite your lower lip as you feel his already stiff cock against your clothed core and you know what to expect. Carlos, on the other hand, continues to kiss your neck undisturbed and now goes down on your body. Starting between your breasts. With his hands, he parted your bikini top and caressed your two nipples. Meanwhile, you could no longer suppress a moan and lift your chest lustfully towards him. A sign for Carlos not to stop. On the contrary, he must take it to the extreme. His mouth wanders further down from your breasts to your belly and now lingers at the cuff of your bikini thong. He looks up at you and sees how you continue to bite your lower lip and squirm with pleasure under his touch and kisses. Grinning, he lets one hand wander up to your breasts again and grabs one of them hard. You moan louder now and press your thighs together.

He takes advantage of the moment and inserts his other hand into your thong. First he only lightly strokes your Venus mound with his fingers, then he goes with two fingers through your already wet folds. Again, you moan loudly and your grip in his hair becomes more hearty. "Carlos, please..." you beg for a release. Quickly, he strips the piece of fabric from the thong that is annoying for him from your hips and replaces his fingers with his tongue. Greedily, he sucks your clit into his mouth. Again and again he looks up at you and this time your eyes meet. He is so eager to give you the pleasure of your life that you are unbridled by his passion, which drives like electricity through your body. He adds his fingers and continues to watch you. You were about to explode. He knows exactly which buttons to push on you to get you where he wants you to be. Whimpering and begging for more. He loves to see you like this.

"Need you inside me. Now." You sigh demanding and it sounds like music to his ears. You don't have to tell him twice. He straightens his upper body and quickly strips his swim shorts off. He moans in release as his cock is finally freed from the now too tight shorts. You prop yourself up on your forearms and can't take your eyes off his beautiful body. Everything about him is perfect, as if he were made for you. He positions himself in front of your core, slowly and gently enters you and places his hands on your hips. Your hands run over his upper arms. His skin feels warm and soft under your fingers. He starts to move and quickly finds his rhythm, which gives you this special feeling. His thrusts become faster and stronger. Just the way you like it. You grip his upper arms harder as the knot in your abdomen tightens. By now, you are moaning together. Some strands of his hair have fallen into Carlos' face. Over and over, your eyes meet. His eyes are almost black and have something animalistic about them that makes you go crazy. You want to feel him more intensely, so now you put your legs on his shoulders. Carlos understands immediately. He loves this position. He wraps his arms around your thighs to keep you close to him. His rhythm increases again and lets you see stars. 

His gaze continues to be directed at you. Your pleasure satisfies him more than anything. As you let your eyes roll into the back of your head, he loses all restraint. He squeezes his arms so hard now that you swear he will leave bruises on your thighs. But you don't care. You would wear them with pride. His thrusts become messier. It won't take him much longer and neither will you. The knot is about to burst.

"Carlos, I... I..." you gasp out, but you're lost for words. "Cum with me, Bebé." he hisses through his teeth, dropping his head back into his neck now and a loud howl escapes his throat. He looked so damn sexy right now. That sight makes you climax immediately. Your legs tremble and exhausted, you let them slide off his shoulders. Carlos is also out of breath. With a satisfied smile, he leans forward again, laying on top of you and burying his face in the crook of your neck again. His weight on you just feels divine.

Your nails roam in gentle circular motions over his broad shoulder blades. You hear a satisfied sigh and enjoy this intimate moment with him. "I wish I could stay here forever..." you whisper in his ear. He turns his head to look at you. He smiles at you, the sun's rays falling into his eyes, making them look amber, almost golden. "Join me. Next week. To Zandvoort." His previously demanding look now changes to a begging one that you can't resist. You have to grin and say, "I'll think about it..." already knowing your answer is yes.

[witchwyfe]

best way to spend a summer day - kook friend group

pairing - (non-canon) platonic!kook friend group x female reader, (non canon) platonic!rafe cameron x female reader, (non canon) platonic!topper thornton x female reader, (non canon) platonic!kelce x female reader

précis - golfing with the boys!

content/warnings - mentions of alcohol, alcohol consumption, mentions of food, mentions of eating, language

word count - 818

"What if we--"

"No."

"Please!"

"No."

"Please angel, we'll only do 9 holes and then buy you lunch after." Topper, ever the mediator, offers.

"You were gonna buy me lunch anyway."

Rafe rolls his eyes and you snicker, leaning back in the lounge chair you're resting in.

"I just don't understand why this how y'all want to spend your time. Kelce's internship and Rafe's study abroad start in one month, we're wasting our one month of summer by fucking hitting balls on grass."

You're met with three glares and simultaneous responses.

"Okay, you can't say 'we' if you haven't even been going."

"There is way more technique than just hitting balls."

"Hey!"

"And what would you suggest we do then, mamas?" Kelce asks, raising an eyebrow over his sunglasses. 

Your face warms at being put on the spot, three gazes stuck patiently on you.

"I don't know, shopping on the mainland, movie nights, brunch at the island club--"

"You can have island club drinks on the golf cart!" Rafe exclaims, throwing his arms up before slapping them at his sides. "And we'll get brunch afterwards."

You sigh dramatically. "9 holes? Not 18?"

Rafe smiles, knowing they've already won. "Of course."

Topper picks you up bright and early the next morning, Rafe and Kelce already packed into the backseat with one set of clubs, the other two in the trunk.

"Morning boys." You smile sarcastically, climbing into the front passenger seat.

"Good morning mamas." Kelce smiles. "Thank you for coming."

"Hm, y'all better make it worth my while." You joke.

"Getting to spend time with your best friends isn't worth it?" Rafe asks, feigning offense.

"Shut up," You groan. "You guys know I love you. Even when you make me golf."

They all made a big deal about your new Lululemon golf dress, and promise to take cute pictures of you in the golf cart, all by the time you pull up to the country club.

You juggle your sunglasses, phone, and water bottle once Rafe opens the door for you.

"Thank you Rafe," You smile, reaching up to pinch his cheeks. "You're such a gentleman."

You wait with Kelce while the other two go to get the cart. You let their clubs stay propped up against your legs so that don't fall to the ground.

Topper takes the purple Stanley--that he got you for Christmas--from your hands and sets it into the cup holder. You help them load up their clubs then you're making yourself comfortable in the front again.

"Do they sell cocktails at the beverage carts?" You wonder. "Or should I grab one now before we go?"

"Think they only sell beer, babe." Kelce frowns. "And they don't allow open cups on the course."

You groan, leaning your head back. Rafe digs around in his golf bag, brandishing a small bottle of champagne.

"Don't worry bestie girl, we didn't forget about you." He smiles, shoving the bottle back inside. "Gonna get you some orange juice from the bev cart and you can make a mimosa."

"Rafe!" You cry, throwing your arms around him. "You're the best!"

"I know, I know," He smirks. "Aren't you glad you came with us, now?"

"I guess," You grumble, playfully rolling your eyes.

You sit comfortably in the golf cart, while your friends play, sipping on the mimosa Rafe mixed you, scrolling on social media, and occasionally reminding the boys to reapply their sunscreen.

Kelce even dragged you out to take a swing and they all cheered you on when you failed miserably, taking a sloppy bow before skipping back to the golf cart.

Once you’re back at the club, seated at your favorite table, you’re lightly clasping your mimosa glass in your hand—this one prepared by your waiter and not Rafe with his Blender bottle.

“I think it tasted better when you made it, Rafe.” You frown, taking another sip anyway.

“'Course it did.” He grins smugly. 

You pull a lip gloss from the handy pocket in your golf outfit, coating a thick layer over your lips. You take your napkin and work it over the rim of your glass too, even though you'll get more gloss stuck to it on your next sip.

"You're just one of the boys, aren't you?" Topper teases, just to mess with you.

You cap your gloss and set it on the table, narrowing your eyes into a glare at Topper. "No, I am not."

 "Yeah, she's like our bratty little sister." Rafe pipes up, reaching over the table to steal a handful of your fries. 

"Yeah, I'm the bratty one." You smack Rafe's hand, grinning when he whines. "And I'm literally older than you, Rafe."

"By like two months!" He argues.

"Okay and?" You retort. "Still older."

He makes a point by stealing more of your fries.

"Brat. You know you're the one paying for those, right?"

© witchwyfe 2023. absolutely no reposting, translating, or modifying, even with credit.

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

141 Headcanons: On Holiday

John Price is 100% a dad type. He likes golfing and fishing and sailing. Activities that let him unwind, sometimes make new friends in the shape of other middle-aged men at the country club or at the docks or at the lake. Rents a little cabin by the lake, where you can take a soak or sunbathe, while he goes out with his little fishing boat and try (and fail) to catch something nice for dinner.

Johnny MacTavish is an adventurous type. He likes hiking and camping, stuff that lets him stay busy, and will definitely explore some forest or national park or mountain range. But he also likes fun activities. Music festivals, for example. He'll definitely book you all-inclusive 3-day-long tickets even though there's only one or two artists/bands you want to see, just so you can have that experience and have fun together.

Kyle Garrick is a family lad. His family is big and loving and they book a little trip every year somewhere fun. It might be a new destination, or it might be somewhere they've been before, or maybe somewhere to visit family. But he loves bringing his love along, go do all the touristy things, see all the landmarks, take loads of pictures, try new restaurants and new food, and do cultural things like reading all the plaques on statues and fountains and monuments.

Simon Riley likes peace and quiet. That's the jist of it. Needs it, in fact. So, prepare to rent a little historical cottage in the Cotswold, or maybe a beach condo, or a cabin in the woods. Doesn't matter, what matters it's that it's fairly isolated, with no neighbors to really bother him. He can sleep in late, with no one to force him to do things he doesn't want to do, no schedule to uphold, no people to answer to. He'll roll out of bed at noon, make himself tea and go sit outside and feell the breeze on his skin for once.

Crack headcanons: Beach Day Episode™️

John Price tends to burn, instead of tan, surprisingly. Probably because his uniforms tend to cover him from neck to toes, leaving only his hands and face showing... And if you'd expect his face to be immune to burning, you'd be wrong. Especially because he's terrible at applying sunblock. By the time you notice, his cheeks, nose and forehead are red, and there are white lines around his muttonchops/beard where the sunblock didn't absorb... so he just looks ridiculous.

Johnny MacTavish likes to say he's not English/British... until he goes on holiday to southern Europe and he's suddenly the perfect example of the stereotypical English tourist. Football jersey, denim shorts, socks and slides/sandals, his entire skin is burned to a crisp and red, and, of course, he's wearing the most stupid-looking sunglasses you'll ever see... And then he gets to the beach, takes off his shorts and he's wearing a red speedo.

Kyle Garrick is 100% the type to disappear off his towel while you're sunbathing and, by the time you notice, he's in a completely different side of the beach playing beach paddle ball, beach volleyball or beach football with a group of other blokes or even with little kids. And he does all this while wearing his little cap (but backwards) and while absolutely covered in tanning oil. Does he need it? No. But he likes the feel of it.

Simon Riley would not be caught dead in swimming trunks or a speedo. The man needs full coverage. He's in a wet/surf suit and wearing a facekini WITH his stupid dad sunglasses and, maybe even, a visor. He gets fidgety if he has to sit in his towel for too long so he's also the type who'll go for a walk out of nowhere, down the beach, and, eventually, cross paths with an Asian grandma who's wearing the same exact outfit as him.