#and then like you finally get to try it and suddenly all of that bullshit is dispelled

[artaxlivs]

Which came first? The chicken or the scrambled eggs?

Rated E: Smut below the line, link to the Ao3 is here.

"Boy, you know I love you, right?" Uncle Wayne says gruffly over his favorite Garfield mug.

Oh jeez.

Eddie wracks his brain trying to figure out what Wayne's figured out this time. The drug deals? He'd thought they were both silently agreeing that they knew but wouldn't speak of those. The Upside Down? Nah, Eddie covered that pretty well, gave the same bullshit story the Feds did. Maybe something mundane like Eddie not doing his dishes?

That's an age-old argument right there.

Damn it.

"I know you do, old man," Eddie sighs, finally just deciding to take whatever it is on the chin. "Say what you wanna say."

There's a brief pause while Uncle Wayne must gather his thoughts - and the irrational swoop of Eddie's stomach over that is gonna give him nightmares because his abandonment issues are wide and deep - then Wayne clears his throat and says, "Whoever it is that you been leaving in your bedroom to sneak out after I fall asleep every morning...you can just invite him out for breakfast with us."

Eddie chokes on his own coffee. Well, sort of coffee - it's a lot of sugar and milk with a splash of coffee.

Not her. Him. They've never talked about it but Eddie knows Wayne has always had his suspicions. But he wasn't ready to have this conversation before the sun was even all the way up.

Before Eddie can finish coughing down his throatful of coffee, though, Wayne is shouting, "Eddie's boyfriend - you can come out and have some eggs if you want!"

A loud thump and the sound of someone obviously scrambling up from a bed comes from Eddie's room. "Yes, sir."  A muffled voice calls back.

Staring down the short hallway in horror, Eddie has a minor freak out. Okay - major freak out. But silently and quickly because...ohhhh this tangled web he’s woven for himself....

"Jesus Christ, Wayne." Eddie shakes his head before dropping it on the formica tabletop. He doesn't have to look up to know that Wayne is smiling that little smile that he gets when he proves that he's still smarter than Eddie is sneaky.

Wayne pulls open the fridge and gets the eggs back out, adding three more to the mixing bowl to whisk up.

Eddie still doesn't lift his head when Steve comes out of the bedroom because he just cannot bear to meet Steve's eyes. He eventually does look up, though, when he hears Wayne swear under his breath and nearly drop the frying pan.

"Ain't you the Harrington boy?" Wayne asks, looking a little dazed, obviously not expecting Steve Harrington to be standing barefoot, wearing one of Eddie's band T-shirts and a pair of his own sweats, in their tiny trailer kitchen, hastily shaping his hair into order as he reaches his hand out to shake.

"Yes, sir. And, um, I'd appreciate it if you kept that between us," Steve suddenly looks smaller, "for now, at least. I'm not sure what my dad...um, well." He worries his bottom lip and crosses his arms over his chest protectively, tucking his hands tight against his body. "I just - I don't think he'd approve. My - my dad."

Approve of what? Slumming it in a trailer park with a petty drug dealer? Because contrary to what Wayne thinks, Steve is not Eddie's boyfriend. They sleep together but not together. It's just for the nightmares. Sleeping alone sucks.

Wayne is nodding, though, the crease between his eyebrows the only thing giving away that he's upset about what he's hearing. Eddie's really not sure what he's thinking but he doesn't ask because maybe - just maybe - if no one asks anything specific, they can get out of this breakfast without Eddie being outed or any of them being embarrassed.

Because, contrary to Wayne’s assumption, Steve does not know that Eddie is gay. Or that the all night spooning they've been doing for weeks now is not as platonic for Eddie as it is for Steve. Eddie's not crossing any boundaries or anything creepy or anything, he's just...pining. It's fine. He'll get over it.

If they get through this breakfast without Eddie being outed, at least.

Steve, of course, offers to help but Wayne turns him down, nudges him toward the coffee pot to pour himself a mug instead. Which he does. Scoffing incredulously, Eddie gets up and swipes the mug from him, pouring it’s contents into Wayne's almost empty mug before setting it in the sink and taking out a clean plastic cup with a faded Charlie Brown & Linus on it.

"Sit." He tells Steve and reaches into the fridge for the orange juice he knows Steve prefers. He ignores the arched eyebrow Wayne aims at him. Mind your business, old man.

Breakfast is just scrambled eggs and toast. It's quick and not too heavy so Wayne can go to sleep after. It's always been the one meal they're guaranteed to have together. Even when most teenagers were sleeping in until ten am or noon, Eddie has always gotten up around 6:30 because Wayne's shift ends at six and he comes straight home and takes a shower, then they have breakfast together.

"So...Mr. Munson-" Steve starts after he swallows a drink of his juice and settles into one of the cracked vinyl chairs.

"Just Wayne, kid," Wayne insists gruffly, setting the pan of eggs down on a pot holder on the table.

"Oh - sorry," Steve says, letting his eyes fall away. It's weird, seeing him cowed by Wayne. Steve doesn't normally do that with adults. He's a charmer. He charms them all. Mrs. Wheeler would force Nancy to marry Steve if she could and Mrs. Henderson thinks that Steve is the second coming.

"Don't gotta be sorry...Steve. Just - call me Wayne." He comes back with a plate of toast. The butter and jam are already on the table. Eddie loads up his plate knowing Steve will do the polite thing and take less than him.

Clearing his throat, Steve nods, "Yes sir - W-Wayne." He stumbles over the first name but then keeps going - "I was just wondering...about the hats? And the mugs?" He looks around like he's taking them all in for the first time.

With a little smile, Wayne looks from the rows of hats and mugs to Steve and then back again. "Those are all Eddie." He doesn't elaborate but Steve's already nodding with a warm smile.

"I had a feeling." Steve nods again, slathering jam on a slice of toast. "Let me guess - this is him taking the joke way too far?"

The sound that comes out of Wayne can really only be called a chortle. There's nothing else that fits. Eddie is so glad his mouth was empty because it's like nothing he's ever heard from Wayne and he would have choked on his food. As it is, he makes a little offended squawk that they both ignore.

"Yup. You know him well I see." Wayne nods at Eddie but looks at Steve. "He got me this Garfield mug and a matching hat for his first Christmas here and I didn't want to disappoint him so I went a little overboard about how much I loved them. Wore the hat and used the mug religiously." He lifts the Garfield mug up for a sip and lifts an eyebrow at Eddie.

Steve knocks his knee against Eddie's under the table and when Eddie looks over at him, he’s smiling a fond smile at Eddie. He ducks his head to hide what he knows is a blush on his cheeks, letting Wayne and Steve steer the conversation where they want for the rest of the meal.

It’s not until they’re washing up and Wayne’s waved goodnight to them both, that Eddie speaks again. He bumps his hip into Steve’s as Steve finishes washing and rinsing the plastic cup and hands it over for Eddie to dry. “Sorry about that.”

Sliding the egg pan into the soapy water, Steve dries his hands off on a towel, leaving the pan to soak and turns to Eddie, hip propped against the counter. ‘For what?” Steve asks, confusion evident on his face.

He flounders for a moment, trying to find a way to steer Steve away from the flashing neon arrow pointing to Eddie that screams “GAY” without giving himself away if Steve hasn’t gotten that idea. “Um, just Wayne and your dad and - you know, all of this.” He waves his hand around in a general all encompassing circle to include the trailer, his life and Eddie himself.

“Do you want to kiss me?” Eddie is pretty sure Steve asks but it’s so unexpected that his brain almost comes to a screeching halt.

“W-what?”

“I asked,” Steve says, removing the scant foot of space between them by sliding along the edge of the counter, “if you wanted to kiss me?”

Eddie swallows, a lifetime of fear balled up in his throat. It has long since threatened to choke him but this time he pushes through it. Because dammit - he’s jumped into a lake and swam after 3 other teenagers he barely knew, he’s tromped through an alternate dimension, he’s played Metallica in hell and outran a horde of demon bats. He’s faced a fucking Lich with nothing but handmade weapons. He can do this. He can.

“Yes,” it’s barely a whisper and made through trembling lips but Steve hears it because he smiles, warm and soft and the next thing Eddie knows, their lips are pressed together and yes, yes, yes. Steve’s lips are just as warm and soft as his smile and just a little demanding as he pushes past Eddie’s and slips his tongue into Eddie’s mouth. 

Steve Harrington tastes like orange juice and possibilities. And before Eddie can decide what to do with that, Steve is dragging him down the hallway and back into his messy, unmade too small bed. He’s pressing Eddie down on his back and leaning over him to kiss him again. He’s rolling his hips against Eddie’s, brushing their hard cocks together in a way that makes Eddie’s toes curl.

And it feels like every night they laid here together, whispering into each other’s shoulders, every night they spent cocooned in safety, every brush of skin on skin was foreplay, was flirting, was courting - that all of it was a lead up to this moment where they could slip easily from friendship to something more.

Eager and keyed up, Eddie pushes Steve’s sweats down to his thighs, follows by shoving his own down as well. Copying Steve’s movement when he yanks off his shirt and then they’re skin to skin, dicks rubbing against each other as they both grind and chase their pleasure together. Steve shifts, putting his thigh between Eddie’s and cupping his ass to pull him forward and there it is, they’re slotted together just right. 

Eddie feels a little zing of pleasure up his back as he ruts against Steve. They haven’t stopped kissing long enough for Eddie to even moan Steve’s name but it’s fine, it’s great, he’s so close already, just a bit more, he’s almost there. He thrusts up and Steve squeezes his ass again, pushing their bodies together. His hand slips around, dipping  between Eddie’s cheeks, sliding one finger down his cleft until it presses against his hole where, sure, he has touched, but no one else has. Steve slipping just the tip of one finger into Eddie is enough to send him tumbling over the edge with a muffled shout.

Eddie’s still twitching through the aftershocks when Steve moves his hand back to Eddie’s hip, Steve holds him still so he can thrust into the sticky mess that Eddie’s made between them. “That was, fuck, so hot,” Steve swears before he clamps his mouth of Eddie’s again, pulling a whine from him just before Steve comes with his own shout swallowed up by Eddie’s mouth.

Slowly, their breathing returns to normal, the sweat cools on their skin and Steve languidly traces one finger through the mess as it starts to stick to Eddie’s treasure trail. Finally, when Eddie can think clearly again, he asks, “So I guess this means you’re not worried that Wayne thinks you’re my boyfriend?”

“Worried?” Steve grins up at him from where he’s resting his head on Eddie’s shoulder. “I think we should make him dinner before he goes to work as a thank you.” He rolls up, propping a hand on either side of Eddie’s chest to look down at him with a fond smile, “I mean, how long would we have lain next to each other in the dark waiting for the other one to make the first move?”

Going up on his elbows brings Eddie’s lips close enough to Steve for a kiss but he doesn't yet, he just stares up at him for a moment, then, with complete honesty, he tells Steve, “I’d have lain next to you for forever if I had to.”

Check it out on Ao3

[teenagefeeling]

...is it petty to block him from my mom's instagram?

[listen-to-the-inner-walrus]

Human pet guy showed up on my dash again (via puppy play sick skateboard tricks post) and I decided to look at what he was up to these days, and

what do you mean he was born in 1995?

[screampied]

FAKIN’ IT FOR YOU ?! ☆

gojo, sukuna, nanami, toji, choso. faking an orgasm n how they react

cw. fem! reader, unprotected, faking órgasms, praise, filthy dirty talk, orgasm denial, first time squirt (choso), öral (f! receiving), nipple play, impact play, manhandling, req by anon, mdni. total wc 3.7k

★ TOJI FUSHIGURO

“what the fuck was that?”

he wouldn’t even care he was balls deep—you can’t even try to fake an orgasm with toji because he’ll immediately know. toji knows every inch of your body—he studies it like one would study for an exam, every particular nerve, he knows how to hit it until you break. yet, the moment you decide to fake your release, all hell breaks loose. you’d be on all fours as he stops his churlish hits against you, a hand of his gathers a firm amount of your hair before he tightly yokes it back. sweetly, you play coy and moan, “what was what?”

“let’s not,” toji grumbles, and he’s annoyed. you can hear the extra grit linger underneath his tone as he speaks. ravened eyebrows of his curve into a frustrated furrow before he pulls out. it was so abrupt, you whine before he gives your ass a rude spank, darting his eyes away with an eye roll. “oh, please, girl. was that a fake moan too?”

“it wasn’t f-fake,” you protest, and you’re suddenly quiet from the way he rubs his fatten swollen tip against your soddened entrance. toji could read you like a book though—you weren’t bullshitting anyone. you was so close but instead, you decided to be a bit more of a brat, kind of desperate to see toji’s reaction.

all toji does is pull out. you whine, the friction titillating against every number of nerves hidden within your body before he spanks your ass again. “faking an orgasm for me, girl bye.” and as he speaks, you could hear his sheer vexation. toji brings your hips up to him, having your face laid down against the woolly mattress before he wraps a hand around his shaft. giving it a few pumps, he starts to slap his tip against your entrance. “got some balls, girl. i’ll give ya that.”

“w- why’d you pull out?” you whimper, making a cute attempt at grinding your rear against him. toji snickers, drubbing his plump cockhead against your slit, pushing it in—only to pull it right back out. the dewy squashes your pussy makes only rings against your ears further. all you feel is pure static, you’re panting, chest heaving, everything and above.

with a secure grip against a nice chunk of your hair, toji groans. “b- because i fuckin’ cannn,” he mocks your faltering stutter, a palm of his bedaubing against your folds before spanking it silly. “ooh,” he purrs, watching your thighs shimmy upon impact. you bite your lip, trying to rut yourself further against him and he only resumes to rub his rounded fat tip between your slit. desperately, you try to swallow him whole but before you could even attempt — toji pulls it back out, slapping his hefty cock onto your pussy again and again. “got some nerve faking an orgasm with me when y’er this soaked already.”

“f-fuck,” a mewl dies out your throat as you feel him continue to smear his rotund cockhead all over your most sensitive parts. with your back hunched over, pretty thighs parted, you let off a bratty giggle. huffing out a sweet sigh, you hum, “it’s just … you’re getting a bit old, toji. didn’t wanna be mean.”

toji’s left eye twitches. as he ghosts a few fingers against your cunt — he slowly inserts two thick fingers inside of your lewd opening before pulling his digits back out. “old, huh?” and he flips you over to look straight at him. sable hairs of his run down his brows before he slyly smiles. a gasp wretches out from your throat before he shoves both of your knees up to your chest, realigning himself. with a husky grunt, he snarls. “don’t play with me. old or not i’ll still break this bed, whore.”

“d- do it then.” you almost simper but he cups a hand over your face.

“tch, such a mouth on ya. ain’t nothin’ a few orgasms won’t fix,” and you moan once he starts to finally make his way inside of you. the girth of toji thickens and dilates throughout your walls and you feel his grip tighten against your knees. as the bed starts to creak in harmony again, he darkly cackles, hot breath aerating against your neck. “oh, and just a heads up baby. when i break this bed, ‘s coming out of your pocket to replace it. ‘ppreciate it.”

★ CHOSO KAMO

“h-huh,” he’d stammer in short briskly breaths. choso doesn’t realize you fake it until he actually realizes something wasn’t right. with him being propped up between your plush thighs, he gently gnaws against your chin, panting heavily. “baby, did you just fake your orgasm?”

you only give him a sheepish grin and choso pouts, he leans in to kiss your pout, soft sweet kisses gluing against your chin before he whines. “that… wasn’t nice,” and he buries his face into his neck. choso’s only teasing—but in the case that you do fake an orgasm with him, he’s more than determined to make you cum at least ten times harder. choso would have you laying flat on your back, gradually easing himself back into your sopping accepting walls before he whines. “oh f-fuck,” he’d gasp, feeling you immediately engulf around his length. he’s throbbing into you, various veins that run down his shaft pulse inside of you. your legs immensely snake around his waist before he starts to deeply drill into you.

choso’s pace is different this time — it’s much more frantic, he’s still whimpering praises into your ear as he’s plummeting his dick within your gummy clingy walls. “mhm, just like that baby. s-so good,” you’d mewl out, his hips continuing to drive into you at a full smacking speed. it’s addictive, the way his sharp hips rotate against you—you feel your tongue hang out before he leans in to suck on it.

you’ve always tasted so sweet, choso’s moans only grow louder as he starts to tap against that same spot buried inside of your cunt. he knows your moans are for real this time because of your body language—how you cling onto him tightly with your giddy arms and legs, biting down onto his right shoulder in pure pleasure. “fuck, fuck right there baby. that’s it, that spot, pleaseee.”

choso could have came alone from your melodic words of encouragement. you’re all stupefied with your eyes crossed, warm hot bodies clashing against each other in sync. he whimpers, feeling his thighs ache near the undersides before his hefty cock reaches yet another deep spot. your legs were steadfastly wrapped around his torso, making sure he’d never leave. “come on baby, give me one, please. gimme a real one,” and he licks a long stripe up your neck. “give it to me, make a mess on m-me so i can clean you right up.”

as you’re positioned in a sprawled way, choso’s hands roam towards your neglected bouncing tits. his head lowers down to suck against them as his hips go slow. a growing pool of heat resides near your lower abdomen as his delicious inches drill in and out of you. “f-fuck, ‘cho. ‘s coming, feel w-wet.”

“let go on me, please,” he purrs, his tongue licking against your sensitive nipples. after a while, he csnt help but start to suck against your precious mounds, moaning as you cup his face to look at you. choso grinds against you, verbosely slowing himself down before you let off a real shriek. as the coarse smacks against each body pitched louder and loduer, you feel yourself zealously jolt forward before you feel a sudden sensation gush out of you. the velocity of it all was soaking — you’re panting, chest heaving as you try to recollect breaths before you feel yourself spouting out more onto your boyfriend. choso pauses, his pink dampened lips quavering as he leans in to give you a sloppy kiss on your mouth. “baby,” his eyelids lowers, and he’s puffing for air right with you. a hand of his trails down between your thighs, lifting up your legs before he moans. “did you just squirt on me…?”

feeling a drenching pool of saliva coat into your mouth, you whine out a timid, “y- yes.”

giving you a hungry gaze, his dick twitches inside of you before he pulls out to watch the remnants of your own slick spill out. “o- oh wow,” he gawks at the filthy scenery right before his eyes. in a gruff voice, choso bites his lip, leaning down to press a final delicate kiss against your pussy. “mwah,” his warm lips ghost against your now drenched folds. he can’t help but lick against it, savoring your sweetened taste before he looks up at you with a pleading look in his eyes. “do.. do you think you can squirt for me one more time? pretty please. need you s-so bad.”

★ SUKUNA RYŌMEN

the audacity was beyond him—he knows right away, sukuna was no foolish curse.

if it was anything he knew by heart, it was your body. whenever you’re about to orgasm, he likes to stare dead into your eyes whilst he’s giving you his all. slow yet deadly strokes, he likes draining the pleasure out of you with the thick inches of his cock. oh, how his favorite part was to just hear your babbling little voice sob out his name over and over like a looping vinyl on a record player. your adorable cacophonies of “right there, right there,” and “gonna cum, ‘kuna,” and many more, many of which they all never fail to reverb across the padded walls of his sacred chambers.

although, he can easily tell from how it’s real or fake. sukuna gets up close—hearing the sounds of your heavy breaths as your legs wrap around his waist. as you’re taking in every part of his bare long length, your arms sling around him. you’re a mess underneath him, jostling against his beefy built body. the demon’s pure smoldering heat colliding against yours only makes you throb at a much quicker pace. his scent, you bury your face into the crook of his neck. “i-i’m close, ‘kuna.” you’d mewl out in a desperate cry, hearing his low animalistic growls all close up against the outer shell of your ear.

he knows,

you didn’t even have to remind him, he knows your body. it was his priceless treasure. sukuna groans as you claw your fingernails into the deep depths of his back. his thickened base resumes to jackhammer into your tight sticky walls furthermore until you croak. he’s just so big, you jaw was dangling open all stupid like before it finally comes— that familiar squeal he’s grown to love. his favorite part.

as your cunt sloshes against the repetitive thwacks against it, you whine out your finish—yet he notices something quite peculiar about your concluding climax. as you lean your back, doe eyes staring into the ceiling, his pointed ears twitch at the way you elongated that single orgasmic syllable. “think you’re so funny,” he says as he waits for your seven second orgasm to come to a closing halt. crimson red eyes makes your tummy churn as you meet his stern gaze and he grips your chin. “little girl, you’re playin’ a dangerous game.”

“w- what?” you coyly mutter, an almost smile pulls against each side of your lips before he glares at you.

sukuna pulls out and you gasp, your ankle brushing against the back of his torso and he squeezes your lips together. “brat,” he snarls, his tone all rough and husky. a free hand of sukuna’s sneaks down between your pried open legs to feel against your pussy. a real moan snatches out from your throat as he rubs sloppy circles against it, only to smack it again, and again, and again. your eyes start to roll as he continues to pace. you’re so soaked that it starts to coat his hand. “look at you. can’t get off to dick but you came just from a few pussy smacks? tch.”

“m-more, ‘kuna. don’t stop pleaseee.” you pant, feeling your tummy cave in as you’re directly underneath him. his weight hovers above you as he still grips your cheeks together, giving you a hot, steamy kiss. sukuna’s forked tongue glides against yours and you whimper in his mouth before he lightly pushes you off. you ‘oof’ back onto the fat padded mattress with a pout as he gets up. with a saddened frown, you sit up to whine. “where— where are you going?”

sukuna fixes his kimono before giving you an annoyed glower. “don’t worry about that. worry about how you’re gonna make that pathetic pussy finish since i apparently can’t make you cum,” and he snickers at your little grumbles before he walks out. “change the sheets when you’re done. fuckin’ wet girl.”

★ NANAMI KENTO

“…oh,” a deep voice groans from behind you. nanami’s voice was low, his simple oh sounded offended more than anything. most of the time he doesn’t really have you on all fours, doggystyle. but today, you were being a bit of a brat. nanami doesn’t mind your little antics, but if it’s to a point where he has to remind you of your place, he will. nanami’s thick cock was plunging in and out of you before he abruptly stops, slowing down once you ‘release.’

your moan sounded a bit too dramatic than usual, you gulp as he lightly grips onto the back of your shirt.

“oh….what?” you’d moan out, and you glance at the mirror that’s propped up in front of the both of you. there—you see nanami with a look of what seems to be mere irritation. nevertheless though, it’s hot. the way his gentle fawn irises burn into you, perfectly arched brows of his lower and a scowl forms onto his lips. he was still fully clothed, just his slacks from work hanging low. out of nowhere, he gives your ass a mean spank.

nanami sighs, feeling his dick that was stuffed inside of you twitch from the inside. “let’s not ask silly questions, my love. you faked that one, didn’t you?” and despite how sweet and alluring his delivery was—you heard a faint rasp in his voice, the baritone as he speaks makes you even more wetter than you already were.

you pout, not fond of how he stopped fucking you, you wanted more—you couldn’t help but be greedy for more of him.

“i didn’t,” you lie through your teeth, arching forward in a cute teasing attempt for him to finish drilling into you. nanami doesn’t follow through though, instead—he gathers a strong yet gentle grip of your hair. as his veins coarse through him, his hefty arms bulge as he pulls you forward to stare at your pathetic needy reflection. “f-finish fucking me, ‘ken. why’d you s-stop?”

“why should i continue, sweetheart? tell me that,” and his words were nothing more but a soft purr. his interest was suddenly piqued—you’ve never faked one of your orgasms before, at least not with him. as you lie on your chest, he takes a peek at your ass before letting off another low sigh. nanami gets directly up close to you before he delicately tightens the grip around your hair a tad bit. “ah, don’t be shy now. tell me what ‘m not doing right to make this pussy feel good. i know you faked it, my love.”

your breath hitches as nanami presses his weight against you—his throbbing cock buries itself between your entrance but he’s not even in fully.

he’s just … idle, his shaft remains near you and you whine from the feeling of him not moving.

“i was just p-playing,” you whine, feeling your perky nipples rub against the satiny-made sheets. whilst you smear your glossy lips together, you grind your hips against your husband. “just wanted attention, ‘ken.”

“my wife,” he whispers, planting a hot kiss near the nape of your neck. his touch alone could make you finish. it was that easy, nanami’s fingers skim against your waist before he sucks gently against your collarbone. “there’s other ways to get my attention, you know that,” and his voice softens by a mile. he’s always gentle with you, his throbbing cock all swollen and built up of so much volumes of seed that he was preparing to give to you. “ugh, having you bent over like this ‘s drivin’ me crazy,” he abruptly admits, feeling you wriggle your ass against his cock that was stuffed between the very temples of your ass. “but,” he swallows, sneaking another kiss, this time against your earlobe. “if i give you another orgasm, ‘s it gonna be real this time?”

“y- yes, promise,” you moan, desperate for him to go back inside. nanami’s hands grab onto your hips now as he pulls them up, relishing in your little arch you’ve got going on for only his eyes to see. you’re gorgeous, he huffs out a few breaths as you take your time to whine out your little words of desire. “won’t fake it anymore, jus’ finish fucking me, please.”

nanami groans—his fingers wrapping around his fat length, giving it a few mere pumps before he prods it against your hungry swallowing slit. “atta girl. keep that arch f’me, yeah,” he sucks his teeth, raising his chin up to where his jawline makes an appearance. “now,” he whispers, deepening his voice as he spreads your legs, making your right cheek sink into the cottony pillow. “let’s try this again. let’s see if i can get a little squirt out of you, sweetheart.”

★ SATORU GOJO

once he finds out you faked your orgasm, it significantly bruises his ego—he tries to play it off with a sheepish cackle cutting out of his throat. “heh, i can fake an orgasm better than that, y’know.” he’d mutter, yet you could hear the little tremor in gojo’s tone. he was quite literally pounding into you before he makes you lie down flat against his chest. he makes you spread your legs for him, exposing your dripping pussy before he pinches your clit. you moan, feeling gojo’s bulge brush off against your ass. “kinda hurt my feelings, hmph.”

“i didn’t f-fake it—” you try to lie. with his fingers rummaging near the inside of your cunt, it had you biting back your words in regret. you lean back against his chest, legs all spread and you start to squirm before he hums against your ear.

“squirmy today aren’t we?” gojo jeers with an impish smile. he titters at the way your legs judder all because of the indecourous stimulation. each tantalizing twitch makes him wanna rub his fingers against your clit even quicker. “if you don’t wanna gimme an orgasm, i’ll just have to do it myself, angel.”

you clench onto his thigh, allowing pleasure to overtake you before his fingertips skid against that familiar spot. now— your moans were very much real, gojo’s fingers was so lengthy that he could reach you in areas his own dick probably couldn’t locate. as your eyelids feel heavy, they shut before another whine leaves your mouth. he still keeps up his pace, maneuvering all kinds of circles over your pussy in a rotation manner before your thighs start to shudder in ecstasy.

“satoru, satoruuuu,” a heavenly sounded whimper dies out your throat. you only then roughly gnaw down on your lip, a cute try at trying to suppress your little moans. “don’t think i can c-cum anymore, ‘s good fuckk.”

he chuckles, kissing the top of your head. “yes you can, i know you can baby,” he whispers, and that’s when he moves again, moving himself between your legs this time. gojo brings a chaste kiss towards your pussy, slithery strings of saliva peeling from your folds and it’s so sloppy. immediately, his lips get all moist and muggy with your honeyed slit. he creates a bowling ball grip with two lengthy fingers, shoving the two of them in and out before he blows parching hot air against your cunt. “gotta get my baby a little wetter.” he whispers, watching you pulse from the inside. within seconds, you happily coat your boyfriend's fingers with your dingy sheet arousal before he slowly vigorously continues to knead various circles and shapes against your swollen nub. you were throbbing laboriously, pulse after pulse as you panting repeats itself as if you’re running a marathon.

gojo lolls out his long wet tongue against your pretty pussy, savoring your candied taste as he feels you roughly joggle against his mouth. hot puffs of pants fans against your folds as he chuckles, and he then starts to spank your pussy raw. one spank turns into two, then three, then four . .

you didn’t want him to stop anytime soon—his guzzling greedy sucks against your clit only makes you spasm out even faster. by now, you don’t even remember why you faked your orgasm because the real one was finally about to present itself. it’s coming to you like a tsunami wave, you can’t predict it but it’s preparing to crash into you all at once. the build up has you almost drooling before you grip onto his his meaty thigh.

“s-satoru— something’s hnghhh coming. oh my goddd,” and you’re trapped in a haze, yet gojo doesn’t stop there. he’s so offended that he doesn’t just make you cream on his fingers. he makes you squirt on them too, gushing out so much the that sheets are now all soaked thanks to you. whilst your tummy heaves, your legs feel all numb and not before long, he makes you squirt again. your jaw cutely sways itself open as you lie back on the mattress, feeling the few spurts trickle out of you slowly. “f-fuck,” you whine, and your voice is all strained and tiny.

gojo hums before he starts making out with your pussy. his eyes close as if he’s actually kissing you, each smooch sounds more sloppy by the second before he pulls out his fingers, sitting up to slide them into your mouth. “taste yourself baby. now thaaaat’s how you orgasm,” and as you take his digits into your mouth with droopy eyes, your tongue swirls all around his fingertips. as you moan amply from your own taste, he wrenches out his fingers before sneaking a two second kiss on your lips. “awww, don’t tap out on me now. you can give ‘toru one more, right?”

[chuluoyi]

✎ to my beloved

- gojo satoru x reader

bad days don't mean the end of the world, and your husband is making sure you know that

genre: hurt/comfort, fluff, fluff, fluff—just gojo pampering you

note: my job has been so hard for me this week :') so yeah it's very self indulgent as i need a lil hurt/comfort and i think you should too~

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

This week... has been a total dumpster fire.

You were utterly exhausted, covered in grime and blood, a persisting headache made you almost black out, all while sitting in the hospital waiting room as survivor's guilt slowly consumed you.

Grueling paperwork, a new project, facing the higher-ups, being substituted to Kyoto for days, and then a sudden attack of a curse user on the loose.

In times of need, you were supposed to protect others— you are a jujutsu sorcerer.

And yet, what happened? Megumi suddenly bathed in his own blood. You barely managed to save him in time, and now you were waiting for the news that he would be okay.

Why couldn't it be you instead? You wanted to break down each time you replayed the scene that took Megumi out. It was so eerily similar to how Haibara was—

"Are you okay!?"

You whipped your head, surprised to find your husband pounding down the hall. Satoru looked unlike himself—he was disheveled, and when he saw you, he immediately dashed towards where you were.

"Satoru..." you voice came out in a croak, feeling the lump in your throat closing in. When he dropped to his knee, put both hands on the sides of your face, and then your body, feeling you over to check if you had any injuries—

You finally burst into tears.

"Sweets, hey..." Satoru immediately pulled you close, trying to soothe you. You were shaking in his arms and he tightened his arms around you. "What happened to you?"

"I-I was... w-with him..." you sobbed, burying your face in his shoulder. "S-Satoru... I-I'm sorry...! M-Megumi—"

Your husband immediately shushed you. "Shh... it's alright, yeah? He'll be okay—"

You were still inconsolable even as he held you in his embrace. He hadn't seen you like this... not ever since tragedies during your high school years ago. And he struggled to reconcile this sight of you with how you were back then.

"I-I s-should've stood in his way— t-that way, he won't be hit—" you hiccupped as you poured your heart out and clutched at his shirt. "I-It would be f-fine if it... was me—"

But all thoughts flew when he heard your words, and suddenly he felt so angry—

"What do you mean?" his voice was so low and sharp that it startled you. "How will it be fine if it was you?"

You stiffened, and Satoru gripped your shoulder, pulling away to look you right in the eyes.

"If something bad happened to you... how is it fine?" he emphasized with gritted teeth. "Where do you get that kind of bullshit from?"

Your lips were wobbling as you sniffled. "At least... i-it isn't him—"

"If you got hurt, how do you think it'll make me feel?" Satoru posed the burning question on you next, his cerulean eyes glinting with silent fury, and you almost recoiled.

"T-that's...!"

"I'll wreak havoc if anything ever happens to you." His tone was harsh and forceful. "So if you think you can just—"

"I'm tired!" you screamed then, and he was stunned, wide-eyed as he took in your outburst. "I-I'm just... I've had enough of this— this shit! I want to quit!"

You were openly weeping, and this time, Satoru felt his heart lurch. You looked so heartbroken and utterly inconsolable that his first instinct to protect you took over.

"Then quit." He rose and took a seat next to you, before cradling you closer and pressed your head against his chest. "Even if you quit, I'm still here. I can protect you well enough. I don't like you being a sorcerer anyway."

You were his beloved wife and he hated seeing you like this. You were supposed to be happy and smiling.

He let out a disgruntled grunt. "Did you know how I was when I heard from Ichiji that you were at the hospital? I thought I might go mad thinking something had happened to you."

You sobbed harder at his words.

"It's perfectly okay if you're tired," he affirmed, patting your back gently. "If you're fine with giving up everything, then I'm on board too. Whatever makes you happy, sweets. Just... don't think of anything that might hurt yourself. Don't think of anything that might make you leave me."

You didn't know you needed to hear it. Right at that moment, your heart swelled with warmth. All your feelings were validated, and even if you chose to let go of everything, Satoru would accept you as you are.

You felt safe, so incredibly and irrevocably secure.

"Whatever happened this time..." he breathed out, feeling the dampness in his chest, his fingers gently combing through your hair. "It's not your fault. No one will blame you. I don't blame you, and Megumi won't too."

Your sniffles quieted down a bit at his words, and your throat still felt tight, clogged with tears.

"H-he... looked s-so much like Haibara... w-when—"

"Shush, he does not. Megumi will be okay. You will too, hmm?"

And just like that, you let go of everything and surrendered your entire being into his arms.

Clinging to him, you finally believed, in whatever shape or form it might take, you would be okay.

A week later, Megumi was discharged after being cleared by the hospital. His wounds were thankfully shallow, and you cried in relief when he woke up.

And after escorting him back, later that night, you laid on top your husband...

Your weight on him felt like a comforting reassurance as he gently patted your back. Satoru couldn't help but smile when he saw how peaceful you looked, like a baby about to fall asleep.

He couldn't resist and planted a firm kiss on the crown of your head.

"Mmm?" you looked up at him, eyes fluttering open, and he cracked a grin.

"What?"

"What?"

"Can't I kiss my own wife? When she's adorable as heck too."

"You..." your lips curved into a bashful, yet exasperated smile, poking his chest in the process.

"Heh."

You drew circles on his broad and sturdy chest, noting how his arms extended and feeling how your toenails only reached a little past his knees. "Your arms and legs are ridiculously long. You are like an oversized plushie."

Satoru snickered. "Well, isn't that good? You don't have to buy them anymore. I can be your personal talking plushie."

"Ew." You hit his chest playfully, and he pushed your bum forward until you were face-to-face with him. He smooched you on the lips, and you giggled afterward.

His eyes shone as he stared at you, breaking to a smile himself. "Finally smiling. Pretty."

"Satoru..." your eyes found his, and you marveled at how sparkling they were. Seeing him so close, even after being married to him for more than a year, made your heart skip a beat. "I..."

"Hmm?"

"I want to keep being jujutsu sorcerer..." You had thought about it ever since, and you still arrived at the same conclusion. "It's true if I give up on it, you'll still keep me safe and all, but..."

Your husband waited for you to continue, still smiling, blinking expectantly.

"...this is something I have to do. I know there will be more hard days ahead, but believe it or not, I... found purpose in doing this," you said, shifting your gaze away from him. "It makes me feel... I can be useful. Even if I'm not special like you, I can still contribute in my own small way..."

How you pressed up against him, the way you looked hesitant and yet convinced at the same time... Satoru thought you were the most precious thing there was.

"Then keep going. I'll still be here too." He hugged you tight then, surprising you. "Just let me know when you feel like you need a long leave, and I'll definitely give you the solution."

"Eh? How?"

"Easy... I can just put a baby in you~ They won't deny you maternity leave or put you in missions~"

"...Satoru, you're—" You shot him a look so unamused, before resigning with a sigh. "Never mind... alright, sure, whatever you say."

"Ooh! So does this mean you want to try now?!"

"—? No, not now yet—!"

"When? We have to try one of these days before some meddlesome aunties ask us when we will have kids!"

Being sillies like this made you so glad that you had him in your life, and that you married him. And if he felt the same way as you... then you really thanked the stars for it.

You huffed, yet wrapping your arms around him in return. "Satoru, you're a clown."

"Your personal clown, you mean. Right~"

[mminghaos]

here and now , choi seungcheol x f!reader

SYPNOSIS: after seungcheol pushes you to your limit during a party, the tension finally snaps once you make it to his car.

WARNINGS: smut, unprotected sex (dont do this !!), public sex (parking lot), car sex, jealousy

requests open, do send some in!!

seungcheol was being such a bitch. it was like he was purposely trying to make you jealous, trying to rile you up. why? all because you had a five minute conversation with an old friend from highschool.

and god, was it working.

he had the sleeves of his white button-up rolled to his elbows, and he leaned against the counter as he talked to the woman who was getting too close for your liking. the house party you two had been invited to was hosted by both your friends, but there were so many people there, and you couldn’t seem to focus on anything but him.

every time the woman laughed — too loudly, too flirtatiously — your stomach twisted. you watched as she leaned in, her hand lightly brushing against his arm, and seungcheol? he didn’t pull away. he acted like he didn’t even seem to notice the line she was crossing.

he was doing this on purpose. he knew you hated this, the way people threw themselves at him like he was some kind of untouchable god. but right now, it felt like he was testing you, pushing you to the edge to see how much you could take before you snapped.

he had to know what he was doing. he wasn’t oblivious to the tension in the air, to the way your gaze never strayed from him for too long.

you knew he wouldn’t go anything as far as hurting you — he wasn’t like that. but he always founds ways to make your chest tighten, to make you burn with jealousy.

finally, the woman stepped away, her lips curling into a smile as she walked off, leaving you and seungcheol alone, but not really. he was still leaning casually against the counter, and his eyes flicked to you, noticing the way your jaw clenched, how your body had stiffened with anger.

you walked over to him, setting your glass of champagne down on the marble counter before grabbing his arm firmly. “we’re going home.”

“why? i thought you said you wanted to stay out later tonight before we left the house.” his voice was teasing, the smirk practically oozing from behind you as you pulled him toward the door.

you didn’t say anything as you led him outside, your grip still firm on his arm, ignoring the way he was looking at you with that infuriating, amused expression. the cool night air hit your skin as you stepped onto the sidewalk, the distant sound of the party muffled behind you.

seungcheol finally spoke, his voice low but still laced with amusement. “so, you’re mad?”

you spun around to face him, the words bursting out before you could stop them. “you’re such an asshole.”

his smirk deepened, and he took a step closer, closing the space between you two. “am i? i was just talking to her.”

“bullshit,” you snapped, stepping back as your heart pounded. “you were flirting with her.”

“and what if i was?” he asked quietly, his tone suddenly serious, the teasing edge replaced by something more dangerous.

your breath hitched in your throat, caught between frustration and something else you couldn’t name.

you needed him so bad.

both of you stood there for a moment, the tension between you thickening. before seungcheol could say anything else, you gripped his wrist, pulling him toward his car.

he immediately unlocked the car as if he knew what was coming next. (he did).

“backseat,” you said, letting go of his wrist. your voice was filled with need. “please.”

seungcheol slid into the backseat smoothly, his eyes never leaving you. you followed him, the door clicking shut behind you as you positioned yourself in his lap. the air was thick, charged, but neither of you moved yet, the anticipation hanging between you like a heavy weight.

you tried to stay calm, to hold on to whatever control you had left, but it was slipping away with every passing second. finally, you couldn’t take it anymore. without thinking, you leaned in and kissed him, your lips meeting his with an urgency that surprised you both.

“wondered how long it would take” he pulled back, his voice low, teasing, but with an edge that sent a shiver through you.

all you could do was scoff, but it was light-hearted. “of course you did.” you responded, your fingers twitching, wanting him, needing him.

you couldn't help but lean in again, your breath warm against his skin. with a slight tilt of your head, you brushed your lips against his jaw, lingering there for a moment. your fingers tightened on the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer as you slowly kissed your way down to his neck. the familiar scent of his cologne mixed with the heat of the moment made your senses reel.

seungcheol let out a quiet breath, his hands resting gently on your waist, pulling you even closer as you paused at his neck. the warmth of his skin under your lips made your heart race, and you felt the tension between you both thicken, every second stretching, making the moment feel impossibly intimate.

slowly, your hips began to move back and forth, the motion steady and deliberate. your dress crept up your thighs as you shifted and seungcheol took advantage if that to place his hands there.

a low groan escaped from his lips, right by your ear, and it sent a rush of satisfaction through you, boosing your ego.

“please, baby,” he breathed out, his voice barely above a whisper.

the heat that pooled in the bottom of your stomach intensified, making it hard to focus. you pulled back just enough to undo his belt, your fingers trembling slightly as you slid his pants down.

his cock hit against his abdomen, and your mouth drooled at the sight. “fuck, cheol.” you whispered out, positioning yourself over him after sliding your panties down.

you were already wet enough to not need any prep — it was evident with the way you were dripping all over his lap.

you slowly slid yourself down onto him, nails clawing at his shoulders as you took time to adjust. he was so big, you don’t think you’d ever be able to get used to it properly.

“oh my god,” he groaned out, hands going out to rest on your hips again as you began to move. “thats it. just like that.”

thank god the parking lot you were in was one, around the corner from the house the party was thrown at, and two, empty, because you don’t think you could bear the embarrassment of someone catching you.

“was��� was doing fine before you rolled them damn sleeves up.” you whimpered out, your hips moving at a pace you didn’t even know you could reach until now.

“yeah? i bet you were,” he hissed into your ear, placing wet kisses along your collarbones as one of his hands left your waist to rub tight circles onto your clit.

you let out a strangled moan, your climax building rapidly. your thighs burned and you dropped your head on seungcheol’s shoulder. neither of you slowed your actions, desperate for release.

“im so close.” he whined. “come with me, please, please, please.”

that’s what sent you toppling over the edge, your eyes rolling back in your head as your movements fell sloppy. “fuck!” you cried out.

a second later, you felt seungcheol’s hips stutter and his head fell back against the leather seats with a gasp escaping his mouth. he spilled ropes of his warm cum inside you, mixing with your own release.

you both stayed in the same position for a few minutes, catching your breath before seungcheol placed a soft kiss to your nose.

“maybe i should make you jealous more often.”

[evilkitten3]

#naruto is a cowardly and inmature narrative bc the author didn't want to deal with the consequences of the premise he himself created#that's why talk no jutsu worked on obito and pein despite these two spousing extreme ideologies which shouldn't fade away that easily#that's why sasuke's character arc was thrashed instead of him realistically ending up dead bc he was alone w/ no plan aside from magnicide#that's why madara was packed up in the most baffling way mid war arc despite having been foreshadowed for ages#that's why the aliens were introduced to the story out of the blue. to take focus away from the fascist hellscape that is the shinobi world#kishi wanted to have his cake and eat it too and it took away from his story#naruto could've been a masterpiece#it's all in the ✨potential✨

ALL OF THIS

actually maybe i do think kishimoto is conscious that he's written a fascist military-industrial complex. i think he's super duper aware on some level lmao

[mv1simp]

Slow Down♥️

Max Verstappen x Driver!Reader (SocialMedia!AU)

I’m so down if you’re ready, I’ll show you if you let me, girl (she said fuck me like I’m famous, I said okay)

You and Max Verstappen are very well known in the media, for having one of the most volatile rivalries in the sporting world. But Ferrari’s Princess and Redbull’s Mad Max send shockwaves through the paddock when your PR teams confirm you’re officially dating. The public have a hard time believing it…until your sex tape gets leaked on Twitter a month later. Social Media!AU

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, trying my hand at a SM! AU for the first time!!, dom! Max and switch! Reader, size kink, sexism, max being a feminist king

Everyone always said there was a thin line between love and hate. Frankly, you find it to be sexist bullshit, rolling your eyes everytime some interviewer or your friends or trainer would make some sly comment about so what’s going on between you and Max, with a suggestive wiggle of their eyebrows. Nothing, just him trying to run me off the track repeatedly and giving me 4 bruised ribs in Singapore when he clipped me illegally, you say with an annoyed tone. You know that if you were a man, and not the first female driver in decades in F1, you wouldn’t be getting randomly shippedwith all the drivers. And for gods sake, Verstappen off all people was the most laughable idea. The man was either being a violent menace on the track or an immature twelve year old off it, you think vehemently. You two had stayed well out of each others way in your Haas seat last year, with you leading the mid pack in the suboptimal car but Max remaining well out of reach at the front of the pack. But this year, you’d earned yourself a Ferrari seat and were ecstatic to finally be able to compete for a WDC.

That was, until you and Max Verstappen suddenly started to keep getting caught in each others crosshairs. What started as polite indifference between two coworkers blew up into a PR frenzy, with you and Max completing for the top step in the podium every race weekend. He thought you a reckless driver, getting lucky in a rocket ship this year and trying to sink her claws into something she can’t handle. You thought him over arrogant, a man who couldn’t handle losing to a girl, his fragile ego unable to handle losing a 4th WDC to a Ferrari driver who was only in her second F1 season.

And then, two months out from the end of the season, everything changed between you and Max. On a night out in Monaco with your friends, celebrating being home from triple headers, you’d had the unfortunate experience of being cornered by some drunk, sexist creep who thought he was entitled to touch you. He’d been stronger than you expected, pinning you in a dark alleyway and you just when you starting to freak out, Max of all people practically threw the guy off you. He’d angrily spat at the drunk to pick on someone his own size or he’d break his jaw next time, before leading you to his car with a gentle hand. Normally, you found Max’s far larger frame to be annoying, another way for him to intimidate you when he glared downwards. But that night you couldn’t help but be grateful for the muscular, tall man and his attentive blue eyes as you willingly follow him with wide, doe eyes.

The ride home had been silent, you nervously clutching the large sleeves of the hoodie Max had given you from his backseat. And when you’d thanked him for his help, saying you appreciate him looking out for you even though he hated you, he looked at you with genuine surprise. I don’t hate you, he’d said. Well, I suppose we have had our differences on the track. You snickered at this, muttering that’s one way of putting it. Max chuckled, making you peer at him curiously as you’d never heard him do that in your presence. He was actually very handsome, you noted, without an angry scowl on his face or that Redbull helmet covering him. Then you tell your tipsy brain to shut up because where the hell had that thought suddenly come from?!

But really, I think you’re a pretty amazing girl off the track, Max continued. It must be hard being the only female driver, but you always have something good to say to the dumb interview questions you get. And I’m not going to stand by and let any woman be felt up by some creep. Even if it’s the Princess of Ferrari, he adds with a smirk. You rolled your eyes at this, stepping out of his car as you reach your apartment. And when you offer him his hoodie back, he tells you to keep it. You can use it to stay warm at the next race - it’s Brazil, very rainy. Did I mention I’m called the rainmaster, incidentally? You burst out laughing at his lack of subtlety, and he smiles at having distracted you, making the scared look in your pretty doe eyes from earlier disappear. Fuck off, Verstappen, you giggle, and for once your words have no real bite.

By the time your second F1 season is over, and you’re receiving your trophy for the world championship at the Prizegiving Gala, the first female to do so, you and Max Verstappen have became good friends. Maybe something more, from all the time you’ve started spending together off the track gaming, playing padel, and going out drinking. You were far too afraid to ever say something to him, knowing the media response to the first female driver dating a fellow driver would be absolutely brutal. Besides, you had no idea if Max remotely felt the same way about you - his type seemed to be pretty models, not aggressive drivers who spent half her time plotting his downfall.

You’re surprised when he finds you at the after party, late into the night, where everyone is too plastered to note that the fallen Redbull champion is taking the winning Ferrari Princess to a private level on the yacht. If you think I’m going to apologise for breaking your winning streak, you can try again, you announce dramatically as you grin at him, 5 drinks in and pink lips loosened, letting him know you were jesting. Wouldn’t have it any other way, Princess, Max hums, coming to stand so close to you that your heart rate quickens when you feel warmth radiating from the taller, muscular driver. Besides, I’ll be taking the cup next year, anyways. Enjoy the high while you can, he says in his Dutch accent, all cocky.

You let out an outraged gasp at this, forgetting how close you two already are as you step towards him, accusing hand pressed against his firm chest. But before you can say anything, Max’s gorgeous blue eyes drop down to where your manicured nails are touching his pecs. And then he looks down further, to where your plush tits have pressed up against his abs, your cute red corset minidress pushing your cleavage up temptingly. There’s no mistaking the dark desire that swirls in his intense gaze as he looks back into your wide doe eyes. And then he’s leaning in, finally, you think, and then your brain wakes up and you remember who’s in front of you. We can’t, Max, you say breathlessly, dazed by how attractive he looks when turned on. Why not, the Dutchman demands, cocky as usual. You don’t want this, Princess? His large hand brushed your jaw, tilting your face upwards when you try to look away. Your breath hitched from the contact, and you’re sure he can feel how fast your carotid pulse is beating. It’s-it’s not that I don’t want to, you say with a blush, making a pleased smirk appear on Max’s lips. But I’m the only female driver on the grid, the public would tear me apart if they found out I hooked up with another driver on the grid-

Fuck what anyone else thinks, Max says passionately, the familiar spark of defiance in his eyes. I know the fallout from something like this would be much harder for you as a woman than me, and I waited till after the championship fight finished. No one can contest you didn’t win the cup with your own sheer skill. But now that it’s finished, I can’t hold back anymore. Your jaw drops from Max’s heated confession, never having guessed the handsome blonde would reciprocate your buried romantic feelings. And I don’t mean some one night stand or summer fling, he continued boldly. I want to be your boyfriend, I want you all to myself properly.

You must have had too many G&Ts, you hear yourself say distantly, cause you’re not even a little bit cute and shy like you normally are off the track, Verstappen. He smiles gently, knowing you were using humour to deflect from the swirling emotions within you. Maybe, he murmurs, bending down to rest his forehead against yours. Or maybe you look so fucking gorgeous in this red dress I knew I couldn’t hide how I feel anymore. When he feels your hand graze his chest, pulling him just a bit closer, he knows what you want. Pressing the gentlest of kisses to your glossed lips, he pulls back to make sure you still wanted more.

But he didn’t need to have any doubts, because you’re staring up at him sultrily, desire having darkened your own wide, doe eyes. This time you’re pulling him back onto your lips, your arms wrapping around his broad shoulders so that there’s not even a millimetre of space between you too. He groans against you as the months of tension come to a head, the two of you languidly exploring each others’ mouths with your tongues.

Even if you’d woken up the next morning regretting your decision, there was no way you could turn down Max’s offer of a relationship. Because even if you had still hated him, the sex that night on the yacht has been so incredibly mind blowing, by far the best orgasm you had ever experienced, that you knew you’d never meet anyone who could fuck you so perfectly again. So you hesitantly said yes, let’s try this for real, Max over a late hungover brunch the next morning. The rest had been history - the two of you had spent the last 7 months in a secret relationship, not wanting the chaos of the media to ruin your relationship before it could even start properly. Max has proven time and time again you’d made the right decision saying yes, being the perfect boyfriend, dedicated to all your needs and wants, spoiling you endlessly and making you laugh whenever you had a bad day.

Sometimes things were hard, of course. Like when you two had tensions during a race, your private relationship doing nothing to dampen the competitive spirit you both shared. But you’d both make up after, whether it be with a long debrief and strategy talk on how to avoid an incident next time - or your personal favourite, some angry make up sex. Like you’d suspected, Max was an absolute sex god and you two enjoyed a very healthy sex life, exploring each others kinky preferences. So when you’d have to be away from each other for long periods, busy with planning and meetings at your separate team bases, your boyfriend came up with a solution once the nudes and phone sex didn’t quite hit the same.

Filming yourselves during sex seemed like a certain recipe for disaster, given how famous the two of you are and the consequences of anything got leaked. But the temptation was too great as weeks drag on without the touch of your boyfriend - so you agreed, just this once, to try it out.

Well, that had certainly been the plan. But the video had been so so nice to watch again and again anytime your pussy ached for Max that you can’t resist making more. And then last month when your teams had finally given the okay for an official announcement on your relationship, and the media response had overall been surprisingly positive, you two get too comfortable and Max accidentally sent the video over DM to you, instead of the encrypted chat you normally use.

And that was when shit hit the fan.

No, Max, go away, I don’t want to see you, I don’t want to see anyone ever again! The blonde Dutchman sighs he leans his head against the closed bathroom door with a worried expression on his face. You’ve locked yourself in his Monaco penthouse’s bathroom for the past 4 hours, not coming out despite how much he’s pleaded. Please, schatje, he tries again. I know it’s bad, but we’ll get through it together. Twitter had already banned any links of the video and both your PR teams are doing damage control and so many of the grid drivers and journalists were calling out the website that had leaked the tape. Please, I just want to see you, you can’t be locked in there forever and reading all the stuff online alone.

When you don’t reply, only sniffling through the door, he sighs again and slides down the door, making himself comfortable. A few minutes later he hears the door unlock and your red, crying face peeking through. Oh, schatje, he croons soothingly as you drop down into his arms and bury your face in his thick neck. He rubs soothing circles along your back as you sniffle that Everyone’s saying such horrible things, Maxie. How am I going to face going on the paddock ever again?

He reassures you firmly that you two would go hand in hand, united on the paddock with your heads held high, because you’ve done nothing wrong. He’d been doing the media game a lot longer than you and knew this scandal, like everything else, would get blown over with time. After your quiet sobs settle with his comforting words and tight hug, you pull back to look at him and apologise for shutting yourself away and not checking in on him. It’s your leaked tape too, you say anxiously. How are you feeling about it, baby?

He eases your concern again, telling you honestly that in the grand scheme of things, although it was a little mortifying he’s had worse in the media. Besides, it’s gonna be satisfying to crush whichever little fucker leaked the vid, he says vehemently. Any anyone who’s saying any bullshit sexist comments about you sleeping your way into F1 or anything is getting hit with a defamation lawsuit from legal, he declares, making your heart swell from his protectiveness. You still aren’t convinced, though. Are you sure, Max? I remember in that particular video, you can’t see much of my body but there’s definitely a lot of shots of your…

Dick? Your boyfriend finishes with a deadpan expression, That’s fine. Besides, I’ve nothing to be embarrassed about. You know the hashtag Verstappen’s third leg is trending on Twitter now? You giggle at his nonchalance, making Max smile at seeing you cheered up. You’ve finally having processed what happened enough to maybe see a bit of humour in it. True, I suppose it could have been worse, you muse. The Las Vegas video could have been the leaked one. Imagine how batshit the fans would have gotten if they saw the handcuffs were for you, not me. Max laughs genuinely, blue eyes looking fondly at your mischievous expression. The familiar Ferrari fire he adored was back in your own pretty doe eyes.

Or worse, the Barcelona one, you tease as you lead him to the kitchen to start making dinner. Scrolling through hundreds of posts and spiralling was calorie consuming work. I think Twitter would have shut down if they found out Max Verstappen likes being called daddy in the bedroom.

Your boyfriend’s face goes adorably pink as he stammers at your unexpected roast. Hey-hey now, schat, that was just one time okay? You’d just accidentally said it and it caught me off guard-

You grin playfully, giving him a kiss on the cheek because he looked too cute to resist. Sure, baby, so off guard you lasted 5 seconds after that. His face goes even pinker, reaching the tips of his ears now as he shyly looks away. For all his fierceness on the track, you loved how sweet the Dutch Lion was off it. Giggling, you put him out of his misery by handing him a knife and tell him to get to work chopping the tomatoes. You knew no matter what came your way, you would be fine with Max by your side.

—————————————————————————

A/N: okkk so what did u guys think at my first attempt at a social media AU ahaha. You know I love to yap I fear I included too many Twitter screenshots, I ALWAYS GET CARRIED AWAY. Anyway this was super fun pulled me right out of my writers block!!! Hope u enjoy xx

[pucksandpower]

Too Sweet

Toto Wolff x Reader

Max Verstappen x ex!Reader

Summary: Max used to think that you’re too sweet for him … now he has to learn to live with the fact that Toto has quite a sweet tooth (inspired by the song that I’ve had on repeat)

I take my whiskеy neat

The doors to the upscale restaurant swing open and Max strides through, his fingers lightly grazing the small of your back as he guides you inside. The dimly lit interior is bustling with the chatter of well-heeled patrons enjoying their evening repasts. A sharply dressed hostess greets you with a polite smile.

“Good evening, sir. Welcome to The Sazerac Room. Do you have a reservation?”

“Verstappen,” Max replies curtly.

The hostess consults her tablet, then nods. “Right this way please.”

She leads the two of you through the elegant dining room, weaving between tables topped with crisp white linens and elaborate floral centerpieces. Max keeps his hand at your back, his thumb idly stroking in a soothing pattern as you take in the opulent surroundings with wide eyes.

“This place is incredible,” you murmur, craning your neck to admire the ornate chandeliers glittering overhead. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

He simply grunts in acknowledgment as the hostess stops before an intimate table tucked discreetly in the corner. After pulling out your chair for you with a flourish, she sets two leather-bound menus on the table.

“Your server will be right with you,” she informs them before departing with a polite nod.

You waste no time in opening your menu, hungrily perusing the offerings. “Oh Max, look at all these amazing cocktails! The La Vie en Rose sounds divine — rose liqueur, raspberries, lemon ...” You glance up at him hopefully. “We should get a couple of those to start.”

Max barely glances at his own menu before shaking his head. “I’ll just have a whiskey neat.”

Your face falls slightly at his brusque response. “Are you sure? These all look so good! We should live a little and try something fun for once.”

He fixes you with a stern look from across the table. “You know I don’t like frilly drinks. Now stop pestering me about it.”

Chastened by his harsh tone, you lapse into a wounded silence and continue reading the menu with diminished enthusiasm. A few moments later, a dapper middle-aged gentleman in a crisp suit appears at your table.

“Good evening, and welcome to The Sazerac Room. My name is William and I’ll be your server this evening.” With a polite smile, he produces a notepad from his breast pocket. “May I start you off with something to drink?”

You glance back at Max, giving him one last chance to change his mind. When he simply gazes back at you impassively, you sigh. “I’ll have the La Vie en Rose cocktail, please.”

William jots down your order before turning to Max expectantly.

“Whiskey neat,” Max says flatly. “Redbreast 27 Year, if you have it.”

“An excellent choice, sir.” William makes a note. “And may I bring you both some bread from our bakery while you decide on your meals?”

“That would be wonderful, thank you,” you reply gratefully.

William departs to place the drink orders, leaving you and Max alone once more. An awkward silence stretches between you, filled only by the tinkle of silverware and murmurs of conversation from surrounding tables.

Finally, you try again. “Max, are you sure I can’t tempt you with one little sip? This La Vie en Rose cocktail sounds absolutely divine. You might lov-”

“For fuck’s sake!” Max suddenly explodes, slamming his menu down on the table hard enough to rattle the cutlery. “How many times do I have to tell you I don’t want any of your ridiculous fruity bullshit? I’m a fucking race car driver, not some ridiculous Instagram model trying to look pretty with my drink.”

His nostrils flare as he leans across the table, eyes flashing with irritation that you would dare continue to push the issue. “I’ve had a long fucking day and I am going to drink whatever the fuck I want. So order your stupid fucking girly cocktail if you must, but don’t act so goddamn disappointed and keep shoving it in my face when I say no.”

You shrink back in your chair, eyes widening with hurt at his enraged outburst. The crestfallen look on your face is enough to douse Max’s fury like a bucket of ice water. He slumps back, remorse already stirring as he witnesses the light dimming in your eyes, lips trembling ever so slightly as you blink back sudden tears.

“I … I was just excited to try something new together,” you whisper shakily. “But never mind. You’re right, I’m sorry.”

The arrival of William with a basket of assorted breads and your glittering pink cocktail garnished with raspberries provides a merciful distraction from the tension.

You immediately reach for the drink, wrapping your hands around the delicate stemmed glass and taking a large gulp — both to avoid making eye contact with Max and to sample your coveted libation.

A look of bliss softens your features as the tart, sugary concoction bursts across your taste buds. “Mmm, this is incredible!”

For a beat, Max can’t help but drink in your look of pure enjoyment — the way your eyes flutter closed in delight, pink lips quirking into a contented smile as you savor each sip. It simultaneously tugs at his heartstrings and fills him with an irrational stab of resentment.

Here you are, sweet and radiant, able to find joy in the simplest of things … while he is just a miserable bastard who can’t let himself enjoy anything without getting irrationally angry.

You deserve so much better than him.

The thought is sobering and he feels shame burn hot in his gut. Unconsciously, his shoulders slump as he watches you take another euphoric sip of your cocktail.

“I knew it, this is amazing,” you sigh happily, seemingly recovered from his earlier tantrum as you bask in the deliciousness of your drink. “Max, you have to try just one little-”

“No.” The refusal is automatic, the word slicing through your offer before he can think better of it.

Your face shutters once more, the bright light in your eyes dimming as your smile fades into resignation. With a soft exhale, you set your glass down and reach for the bread basket instead.

“Suit yourself, then.”

As you silently butter a roll, Max finds himself at a rare loss, anger dissipating into regret as the knot in his stomach tightens painfully. Tonight was supposed to be a celebration after his impressive win on the track, a chance for the two of you to enjoy each other’s company and make more happy memories together.

Instead, he’s gone and ruined the mood … again … just like he always does.

***

“Another round?” Checo’s voice cuts through the sound of laughter and chatter around the table.

Max glances up distractedly from pushing the remaining bits of food around his plate. He, Checo, and a few other members of the Red Bull team are celebrating a successful Monaco Grand Prix. Despite making the podium, Max’s mind hasn’t really been on the festivities.

“I’m all set, thanks,” he mutters, raising his glass of whiskey with a tight smile before taking a sip. His gaze drifts across the opulent dining room of Cipriani Monte Carlo, idly scanning the crowd of wealthy patrons enjoying their evening meals.

That’s when his eyes catch on a shockingly familiar figure.

You.

Sitting at an intimate corner table, bathed in the soft glow of a candle’s flickering flame. For a moment, Max’s breath catches in his throat as a thousand bittersweet memories assault him all at once.

The hurt look on your face that night at The Sazerac Room … the resignation in your eyes as you accepted, yet again, that he would never be able to appreciate the sweet, simple pleasures that brought you such joy ...

The cold, empty silence that descended over your apartment when he finally left for good, stuffing his belongings into a duffel bag as you watched with trembling lips from across the room ...

Max blinks, and the moment passes — but his gaze remains riveted to your table. Because there, sitting across from you with adoration written across his insufferable face … is Toto Wolff.

Max feels his lips curl into an unconscious sneer as the Mercedes team principal murmurs something to you with a gentle smile, reaching across to delicately brush a lock of hair behind your ear. You catch Toto’s hand as it falls, pressing a tender kiss into his palm that makes the older man’s expression soften even further.

Your waiter arrives then, providing a momentary distraction as he lays out a couple of fresh cocktails on crisp white linen — a bright purple concoction garnished with a sugared rim and a plump cherry for you and an amber-hued old fashioned for Toto.

Your eyes light up as you take in the colorful beverage, immediately wrapping your hands around the delicate stemmed glass and bringing it to your lips to sample. A look of pure delight crosses your features as the no doubt sugary drink bursts across your taste buds.

“Mmm ...” you hum in pleasure, causing Toto to chuckle affectionately as he watches you enjoy the first reveling sips.

Setting your glass down, you gesture enthusiastically toward it as you address Toto. “This is incredible! You have to try it.”

Without hesitation, the Mercedes team boss dutifully leans across the table to take a long pull from your straw. Max watches with a mixture of disgust and morbid fascination as Toto’s expression morphs into one of surprised enjoyment.

“Wow, that is quite good, isn’t it?” Toto remarks with an indulgent grin, licking a telltale dab of purple syrup from the corner of his mouth.

“I told you!” You crow in delight, eyes sparkling with unrestrained glee.

The pure joy radiating from you in that moment is enough to make Max’s heart clench in his chest. He has seen that look before, so many times — whenever he deigned to let go of his surly demeanor for even a moment and actually indulge whatever fleeting whim or simple pleasure you desired to share with him.

But it was always so short-lived with him, stamped out by his own stubborn refusal to truly embrace anything resembling happiness or frivolity. You deserved so much more than his constant scowling and gruff rebuffs.

As if reading his thoughts, Toto then leans across the table to tenderly capture your lips in a soft, lingering kiss. The gentle intimacy of it makes Max’s gut churn as a feeling too complicated to fully unpack blossoms in his chest.

When you finally part, both of you are smiling at each other with such open, unguarded adoration that it’s almost obscene to witness. Toto reaches out to cradle your face in his palm as your lips find his once more in another chaste, loving caress.

This time, when you pull away, you let your head loll back with a look of pure bliss. Something deep within Max cracks and splinters at the sight. In a haze, he finds himself drifting back through the churning currents of memory ...

… that last, fateful shouting match in your living room, both of you red-faced and furious as the dam holding back all the anger and resentment and accusations that had been building for months finally burst ...

… you weeping silently as you clutched a meager trash bag containing what little remained of his belongings, not even able to look at him for fear of collapsing completely ...

… “I’m too sweet for you, Max. You’ve made that perfectly clear.”

The acid words burn in his mind even now, feeling as fresh and raw as that night they were spat out like venom between you. His chest constricts as his gaze falls guiltily back to the present day scene in front of him.

Toto and you, basking in the warm, rosy glow of new love — careless and unrestrained in your public affection. Delighting in each other’s company and simple pleasures … just as you always desired for Max to do, yet he could never fully surrender to.

The display is like a twisted mirror, taunting him with the vibrant reflection of what he threw away. What he was too foolish, too emotionally stunted and uncaring to fully appreciate at the time.

Stumbling from his chair in a daze, Max barely registers the questioning looks and concerned murmurs from his team as he staggers from the dining room. He hardly makes it to the privacy of the restroom before bending at the waist, hefting the contents of his stomach into the thankfully pristine porcelain basin.

The whiskey burns on the way back up.

Max grips the edges of the counter, face contorted in anguish as a realization washes over him in searing waves.

You were the real prize all along … and now, he’s lost you for good.

My coffee black

The drone of announcements over the PA system and the dull roar of hundreds of people bustling to and fro mingles into an ever-present white noise hum. Max trudges ahead, the brim of his ball cap tugged low as he weaves through the teeming crowds filing through the airports’ terminals.

It’s just after 5 am, the start of another grueling race week. This time the travel will take you from the Middle Eastern leg of the circuit to the other side of the world in Australia. Twenty-plus hours of planes, layovers, and jet lag beckon — a prospect that grows less and less appealing with each passing season.

A warm weight presses against his side as you shuffle along beside him, head lolling adorably as you struggle to keep your eyes open. One slender hand is looped through the crook of his elbow, gripping the strap of your carry-on bag with the other. You let out a jaw-cracking yawn, leaning into Max’s solid bulk.

“I need coffee,” you mumble groggily. “I’m barely conscious.”

He shoots you a sidelong glance, mouth quirking ever-so-slightly at your dramatics. As grating as your tendency for excessive cheerfulness can be at times, he does admire your ability to shake off the fatigue and stress that plagues him more and more these days.

“There’s one of those chains up ahead,” he grunts, nodding toward the familiar logo peeking through from around the corner.

You light up immediately, straightening and quickening your shuffling steps in anticipation of the caffeinated boost soon to come. By the time you reach the counter, there’s a bright spark back in your eyes that makes the exhaustion plaguing Max’s own limbs feel slightly more bearable.

The barista, a pimple-faced youth who can’t be any older than 18, greets you with a too-wide smile. “Welcome to Daily Grind! What can I get started for you?”

You lean in eagerly, surveying the massive display of chalkboard signs advertising the latest sugar bombs and “coffee” concoctions designed to appease the basic palates of everyday people who wouldn’t know a good cup of joe if it slapped them across the face. Max scowls, already anticipating some ridiculously saccharine order.

“I’ll have a large cinnamon honey oat milk latte, please,” you chirp, as expected.

The barista marks down your request with a perky nod. “Excellent! And for you, sir?”

“Black coffee,” Max replies flatly. “Medium.”

Your brow furrows as you shoot him a quizzical look. “Just black coffee? Not even a splash of cream or anything?”

He shakes his head tersely, one hand already rummaging in his pocket for his wallet as the barista rattles off the total. “We’re in a rush as it is, and that sugary nonsense you ordered takes forever to make with all the fussy bullshit they do to it.”

You wince at his blunt assessment, shoulders slumping a bit in a way that makes a pang of guilt flicker through Max’s chest. He doesn’t mean to be so harsh … but sometimes it’s like the more considerate side of his nature has been ground away by years of constant training and calculating every single variable down to the most minute detail.

The poor kid working the register seems to shrink under the intensity of Max’s gruff demeanor. With shaky hands, he quickly processes the payment before stammering out your total. As you shuffle off to the side to wait for your orders, Max can’t help but keep picking.

“Honestly, I don’t know why you insist on ordering those stupid drinks that are 90% milk and trash,” he mutters, shooting you a disapproving look. “Barely any actual coffee at all.”

You frown, immediately hunching into yourself a bit as you cradle a handful of napkins against your chest. “It’s not like that coffee flavor isn’t there at all,” you argue meekly. “And I have to get some kind of caffeine boost to stay awake during all these flights and race weekends. I just … I don’t really like the taste of black coffee.”

Max scoffs loudly at that, shaking his head in open derision. “Sure, because drinking just regular black coffee like an adult would be too difficult. Instead you have to get your ‘caffeine boost’ from some tooth-rottingly sweet concoction that looks like something a child would order.”

The barista shifts uncomfortably behind the counter, clearly flustered by Max’s abrasive tone. Not that he cares — he’s been dealing with people gawking at him in public for years now. What does rub him the wrong way is the wounded look spreading across your delicate features, eyes dropping to stare dejectedly at the floor.

He opens his mouth to continue chiding you, but at that moment the barista appears with your drinks. The sweet, cinnamony aroma of your order hits Max’s nostrils like a slap in the face, making his nose wrinkle on instinct. You accept your oversized paper cup gratefully, hands automatically curling around the comforting warmth.

With visible enthusiasm, you bring the drink to your lips, unable to resist taking a sip despite the scalding temperature. Max tracks the minute changes in your expression — the slight widening of your eyes, the upward quirk of your lips into a smile of unalloyed contentment. Your lashes flutter closed on a quiet hum of blissful appreciation.

“Mmm … heaven,” you practically moan, hunching over your cup as though to better inhale the revitalizing notes of sugar and spice.

It makes Max want to retch, watching you so unashamedly indulging in such vapid, artificial flavors. How can you find such simple-minded pleasure in that, when you could be savoring the bold, robust notes of a proper cup of black coffee? One meant to awaken the senses and caress the taste buds with its smoky aroma and rich, nuanced flavor notes.

“You can’t honestly get any enjoyment from basically drinking hot milk and flavored syrups,” he mutters, sneering at the offensive beverage in your grasp.

In response, you simply shift closer to him until you’re pressed alongside his body. Your free hand snakes around his bicep, squeezing gently as you tilt your head back to gaze up at him imploringly. Exhaustion and hurt war openly with the angelic softness of your delicate features.

“Max … can’t you just let me enjoy this?” You plead in a low murmur. “It’s early, and we’ve got a long flight ahead.”

His jaw clenches stubbornly, unwilling to back down so easily. Caffeine and sleep deprivation have eroded his already thin sense of decorum.

“I’m just saying, drinking a syrupy dessert drink loaded with sugar and god knows what else isn’t doing you any favors. You might as well just stick to black coffee like a normal adult if you want to be awake and energized.”

The wounded look in your eyes deepens into something more somber and resigned. Slowly, you pull away from Max’s side until a noticeable distance stretches between your bodies. Something inside him shrivels at the loss of contact. Your slender fingers work feverishly at the cup’s lid until it pops off with a dull thunk.

Max stares blankly as you march over to the nearest trash can and upend the contents of your cup into the receptacle. You don’t even seem to hesitate — simply turn on your heel and hurl the now-empty cup in after the wasted drink. It clatters hollowly against the canister, mocking and empty.

When you turn back to face Max, the sight makes the now-lukewarm coffee sitting neglected in his own cup feels like a lead weight in his gut. Your arms are wrapped protectively around yourself, hunched against some unseen foe. Head bowed, you refuse to meet his gaze as you slowly make your way back over to where he stands rooted to the spot in stunned silence.

It’s only as you draw up beside him that Max notices the twin tear tracks striping your cheeks. Your chin remains stubbornly trembling, but you make no move to wipe at the tears now falling freely. Max’s chest constricts almost painfully at the sight of your misery, the guilt gnawing at him as the reality sets in.

He is the reason for it. His harsh, uncompromising tongue has wounded you in one of the cruelest ways once again. Too strict, too unyielding, too incapable of allowing even the smallest indulgences that bring you simple joy without sneering dismissal.

For several agonizing moments, the two of you stand in silence amid the milling crowds of travelers streaming past. Max can’t bring himself to meet your gaze, knowing he’ll only find the depths of his own callous thoughtlessness reflected back at him in your swimming eyes.

Finally, you release a shuddering sigh that sounds far too weighted for someone of your sweetness and light. When you speak, your voice is little more than a tremulous murmur laced with dejection.

“Let’s just go to the gate, Max.”

You brush past him without another word, leaving him to trail numbly in your wake as shame burns a hole through his gut. He watches as your form disappears into the throngs, shoulders already beginning to hunch inward as that spark of happiness in you gutters and fades.

Lingering behind, Max’s gaze falls to the empty cup lying crumpled and discarded in the trash. A reminder of yet another instance where his unchecked tongue and inability to empathize has spoiled an innocent attempt at simple pleasure.

His coffee suddenly tastes like ash on his tongue.

As he moves to dump the neglected drink into the nearby basin, Max wonders with a sinking feeling just how many more times he’ll be able to snuff out your light before it dwindles to nothing.

***

The late morning sun bears down with oppressive force, causing a mirage-like haze to shimmer over the sweltering asphalt of the paddock. Despite being early summer, the Spanish air is already thick and heavy enough to bathe Max’s skin in a sheen of perspiration as he trudges toward the Red Bull Energy Station.

Ahead, he spots a cluster of people milling aimlessly near the entrance to the Mercedes motorhome. At the center appears to be you, head tilted back in unrestrained laughter at something George Russell is regaling you with. The British driver is equally animated, pale features scrunched up in exaggerated motions as he relays what is no doubt an amusing tale.

Max feels his steps gradually slow of their own accord as he takes you in from a distance. You seem utterly at ease and in your element — cheeky grin splitting your face, one hand toying idly with the ends of your hair as your eyes crinkle with unbridled mirth.

A pure vision of effortless contentment.

His gut clenches unexpectedly, unbidden memories of how he methodically chipped away at that very lightness in you until it was all but extinguished washing over him in a nauseating wave. How quickly he took such simple joys for granted ...

So transfixed is he by the sight of your open, honest amusement that Max barely notices the figure slipping up behind you. Not until Toto Wolff raises a conspiratorial finger to his lips, eyes twinkling impishly as he pantomimes for silence at a sputtering George.

You remain oblivious even as the Mercedes team principal slides flush against your back, looping one arm around your waist to tug you snug against his chest. With his free hand, Toto cups it teasingly over your eyes — to which you release a tinkling peal of laughter.

“Guess who?” The playful lilt of the older man’s Austrian lilt is unmistakable, dripping with honeyed warmth.

“Hmm … I wonder,” you murmur coyly, making a show of tapping your chin in feigned confusion. “Is it a dashing gentleman caller here to sweep me off my feet?”

Toto chuckles deeply in your ear, the sound positively dripping with unguarded affection. “Only if you’ll have me, liebling.”

Craning your head back with a cheeky grin, your arms instinctively wind around his neck as you stretch up on your tiptoes to greet him properly. Toto meets your lips in a lingering, languid kiss that has George hastily clearing his throat and looking resolutely anywhere but at the affectionate display before him.

When you finally part, all radiant smiles and flushed cheeks, it’s like the rest of the world has completely fallen away. Toto gazes down at you with such pure adoration that Max feels his throat constrict as though a belt is suddenly cinched tight around it.

“I have a surprise for you, schnucki,” Toto murmurs huskily, lips brushing your temple as he speaks.

You light up like a kid on Christmas morning, practically vibrating with excitement at his words. “Oh? Do tell!”

With a wink and roguish smile, Toto brandishes his other hand from behind his back — in it, clutched protectively, is a large cup topped with whipped cream and what looks like edible flower petals sprinkled over the top. The light purple hue of the iced contents catches in the bright sun, refracting a prism of soft, delicate colors.

“I had the barista in our hospitality whip this up for you,” Toto explains fondly. “After I mentioned how much you enjoy trying unique coffee flavors. It’s a lavender vanilla iced latte.”

Your mouth drops open in a perfect ‘o’ of delight as you instinctively make grabby motions toward the tantalizing beverage. Max recognizes that earnest enthusiasm all too well. It’s the same look you used to get whenever presented with any unique taste or experience to appreciate.

A look he always met with disdain and scorn.

Toto doesn’t hesitate for a second before depositing the cup into your greedy hands. You immediately cradle it reverently, as though it’s the most precious thing you’ve ever held. Ducking your head, you take a long pull through the striped paper straw.

The expression that blossoms across your features as that first taste bursts over your tongue is one of pure, unadulterated bliss. Your eyes flutter closed on a muffled moan of sinful enjoyment, lips pursing as though savoring each individual note of flavor. Max hasn’t seen you look that unguardedly delighted by anything in … well, he can’t actually recall the last time.

“Oh Toto, this is heavenly!” You gush, swiping your tongue across your lower lip to catch a stray drop of condensation. “The lavender is subtle, but gives it such a uniquely fresh and floral twist. And the vanilla adds this creamy sweetness that keeps it from being overwhelming.”

You open your eyes to beam radiantly up at the older man, who returns your luminous smile with equal warmth. “It’s perfect, thank you! You have to try it.”

Without prompting, you eagerly offer the cup up to Toto. He accepts it with an indulgent chuckle, locking eyes with you as he takes a contemplative sip — no doubt eager to share in whatever fleeting moment of bliss the simple drink has brought you.

Unlike Max, who would have turned up his nose and likely received it with derision, Toto seems to savor the complex blend of flavors. Humming thoughtfully, he swipes his tongue across his upper lip as though committing each separate note to memory.

“You’re quite right, liebling,” he agrees readily, “this is delightful. So refreshing for this heat. I may have to acquire a taste for these iced coffees myself.”

You positively glow at his assessment, lighting up from within like a joyful little sun. Max is helpless before the storm of emotions suddenly ripping through him at the sight.

“Oh! That reminds me,” you chirp giddily, bouncing on the balls of your feet, “I was talking to the barista about maybe incorporating some other floral syrups for iced coffees too. Like rose or hibiscus! And maybe we could get her to try making those fun layered drinks with the espresso on the bottom-”

Toto’s deep belly laugh cuts off your stream of eager rambling. Without warning, he snakes an arm around your waist and tugs you flush against him once more. You let out a startled giggle as he buries his nose in the crook of your neck, lips brushing the feverish pulse point just beneath your jaw.

“You adorable thing,” he rumbles warmly, words slightly muffled against your skin as he presses a languid line of kisses along the sharp line of your jaw. “So enthusiastic about the simplest pleasures in life ...”

Pulling back, Toto lifts one hand to tenderly cradle the side of your face. You automatically nuzzle into his palm with a look of such smitten devotion that it makes Max’s heart stutter behind his ribcage. When Toto leans in to seal his lips over yours once more, the kiss is deep and thoroughly unhurried — as though the two of you have all the time in the world to savor this intimate little moment.

Max’s hands clench into white-knuckled fists, blunt nails biting crescent moons into his clammy palms. He should turn away, leave you to your blissful display with someone who so clearly appreciates you. Yet he remains rooted in place, unable to tear his eyes from the scene unfolding before him.

It’s like witnessing an alternate universe version of your shared lives play out in vivid, scorching detail.

In this reality, Toto is the one tenderly stroking the pad of his thumb over the elegant arch of your cheekbone as the two of you part, drinking in the sight of your passion-addled features hungrily. He is the one basking in the radiance of your bright and unrestrained joy. Celebrating each of your simple thrills, from the most frivolous of flavored coffees to the sensual graze of skin on skin.

And where does that leave Max? An outsider peering in at paradise with his face smeared against the glass, watching the warmth and affection he could never fully embrace slowly slip through his calloused fingers.

And my bed at three

The mattress shifts, the subtle movement rousing Max from his slumber. He cracks one eye open to find the space next to him empty, the sheets disheveled where you had lain.

A glance at the digital clock on the nightstand tells him it’s not yet 5 am. Where are you going at this hour?

He hears faint rustling from the living area of the hotel suite, followed by the soft click of the door. Groaning, he kicks off the covers and pads out of the bedroom, the plush carpet warm beneath his bare feet.

You’re sitting on the couch, slipping into a pair of flats. “What are you doing up so early?” He asks, his voice still husky from sleep.

You look up, startled. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” A soft smile plays on your lips. “I was going to watch the sunrise.”

Max rakes a hand through his tousled hair. “Why would you want to do that?”

“Because it’s beautiful.” Your eyes sparkle with an excitement he can’t comprehend this early in the morning. “The colors, the way the light slowly creeps over the horizon — it’s just magical.”

He snorts. “It happens every day. Nothing magical about it.”

Your face falls ever so slightly, and it tugs at something in his chest. But the feeling is fleeting, replaced by annoyance at having his sleep disturbed for something so trivial. “So you didn’t want to join me, then?” You ask, almost timidly.

“And wake up before the ass-crack of dawn? No thanks.” He flops onto the couch beside you with a huff. “I was up until 3 am sim racing. Not all of us find staring at the sky such riveting entertainment.”

You say nothing, simply nodding as you avert your gaze. The light in your eyes has dimmed, and he feels a pang of guilt. But he shakes it off — it’s far too early for this kind of whimsical nonsense.

“Suit yourself,” he mutters. “I’m going back to bed.”

He doesn’t see the way your shoulders droop as he turns and trudges back towards the bedroom. Doesn’t see the tears that prick at the corners of your eyes before you blink them away and readjust the set of your jaw with determination.

Max burrows under the covers, fully intent on drifting back into oblivion. But sleep evades him, his mind buzzing with a peculiar restlessness. He punches his pillow into a more suitable shape, flips it over to the cool side, but still he lies awake, listening to the silence that fills the suite.

After what feels like an eternity, curiosity gets the better of him. He kicks off the covers once more and pads over to the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the city street below. Sure enough, there you are, a tiny figure perched on a bench across the way, your face tipped up towards the slowly lightening sky.

Max leans his forehead against the cool glass, watching as the inky blackness of night gives way to soft shades of periwinkle and lilac. Slowly, the colors deepen into blazing pinks and vibrant oranges that streak across the heavens. The sky ignites in a brilliant blaze of crimson and gold, the clouds set afire by the rising sun.

And there you sit, bathed in the dawn’s ethereal glow, utterly transfixed. In this light, your features seem softer, more at peace than he’s seen you in a long while. A smile plays on your lips, genuine and unguarded, as you take in the spectacle unfolding before you.

Max finds himself holding his breath, as if the slightest movement might shatter the magic of this moment. He’s never seen you look more beautiful, more alive than in these fleeting minutes as day breaks over the city.

A rare pang of tenderness blooms in his chest, quickly overshadowed by a creeping sense of unease. He isn’t certain how much time has passed before the brilliant hues fade into the pale blue of morning, but eventually you rise from the bench, taking one last, lingering look at the sky before turning and disappearing from view.

Max exhales slowly, his breath fogging up the glass. He isn’t proud of how he dismissed your simple joy, that spark of wonderment at the little things that he so often takes for granted.

An emptiness settles in the pit of his stomach, the guilt heavier than before. How many other moments has he trampled on in his relentless pursuit of success?

He thinks of your radiant smile, how it lit up the pre-dawn gloom more vibrantly than the sunrise itself. With a sigh, Max turns away from the window, already dreading the apology he knows he owes you.

Because in that single, breathtaking moment, he realizes just how lucky he is to have someone like you in his life. Someone who can find magic in the mundane, beauty in the simple things he’s become blind to along the way.

Someone, Max fears, who may be too sweet for him.

***

Max gives up on sleep around 4:30 am, as he has for the past several weeks. Insomnia has become his constant, unwanted companion, leaving him tossing and turning until the first hints of dawn creep through the curtains. On nights like this, slumber remains persistently out of reach no matter how exhausted he feels.

He lies in bed, staring at the ceiling as the brightening sky slowly illuminates the room. It wasn’t always this way — he used to be able to sleep like the dead after a race weekend, knocked out by the physical and mental exertion. But lately, his mind refuses to shut off, thoughts swirling endlessly until his head pounds.

With a groan, Max kicks off the tangled sheets and drags himself out of bed. Maybe going for a run will quiet the racket in his brain, at least for a little while. He dresses quickly, lacing up his trainers and grabbing his earbuds before heading out into the semi-darkness.

The pre-dawn streets are blissfully empty as he starts off at an easy jog. He despises becoming one of those obnoxious morning people, but exhaustion has a way of stripping away one’s self-respect. If pounding the pavement before the rest of the world awakes is what it takes to catch a few hours of sleep, so be it.

His route takes him along the harbor, the gentle lapping of the waves against the seawall providing a soothing soundtrack. The first rays of sunlight glint off the glassy surface, and he finds himself averting his gaze, oddly resentful of the impending sunrise.

It wasn’t so long ago that he scoffed at your eagerness to greet each new day. But ever since you’ve been gone from his life, those brilliant, fleeting moments of beauty have begun to mock him at every turn.

He picks up his pace, as if he can outrun the rising sun and the flood of memories it brings. But there’s no escaping the vivid flashes of you, smiling radiantly as the world awakes in a blaze of fiery hues. Or the hollow ache that twinges somewhere beneath his rib cage whenever he’s reminded of just how little he appreciated you.

So lost is he in his circling thoughts that he nearly runs right into you, appearing abruptly on the path ahead. His trainers skid against the pavement as he grinds to a halt, his heart stammering in his chest.

“Max?” You blink up at him, clearly startled by his sudden presence.

He opens his mouth, an automatic apology rising to his lips — until his eyes zero in on the camera clutched in your hands. Of course. Still chasing sunrises after all these years.

A wry grin tugs at the corner of your mouth as you take in his rumpled running attire. “Fancy meeting you here.”

Max says nothing, his gaze flickering briefly towards the brightening horizon before fixing on you once more. You look … well, radiant as ever, lit by the soft morning glow. A small pang of something — longing, maybe — twists in his gut.

“Out enjoying another sunrise, I see,” he says at last, nodding towards the camera.

You glance down at it fondly. “Well, you know how it is. I have to capture them while I can.” A teasing lilt edges into your voice. “Not all of us are night owls.”

He huffs out a humorless laugh. “I’ll never understand what’s so fascinating about watching the same thing happen day after day.”

“But that’s just it — each one is different. Unique and fleeting and … breathtaking.” Your eyes spark with that gentle wonderment he remembers so well, the sight sending a tremor through his chest. “Like getting a front row seat to the greatest show on Earth, but it’s one you’ll never see again.”

You trail off with a small shake of your head, seemingly at a loss to put the feeling into words. Max doesn’t need the explanation — he’s seen that look of childlike awe on your face more times than he can count.

An awkward silence stretches between you, laden with the weight of history and unspoken apologies. You shift your stance, mouth opening as if to say something more.

But Max cuts you off before you can get the words out, unable to bear whatever sentiments might cross those sweet lips of yours. “Toto not joining you this time?” He asks gruffly.

Your expression softens into a fond smile, and it’s like a physical blow to Max’s sternum. He knows that look, has been on the receiving end of it more times than he cares to remember. The way your entire being seems to brighten when you so much as think about someone you love.

“Ah, you know Toto — he’s more of a sunset person,” you say with a light laugh. “I’ve never been able to drag his grumpy butt out of bed for a sunrise.”

Even as his insides curdle with jealousy, Max can’t help the quirk of his lips at the mental image. He could all too easily picture Toto swatting irritably at you, burrowing deeper under the covers to escape the blasted sun.

“But we make it work,” you continue, that loving glow refusing to dim from your eyes. “I take photos of the sunrise to share with him later. And he does the same with the sunsets for me. That way, we both get to experience it in a way.”

The gentle sound of your voice washes over Max like a salve, momentarily easing the tangled knot of regret and longing that’s taken up permanent residence inside him. He watches, transfixed, as the early morning light bathes you in ethereal radiance.

In that moment, he sees it so clearly — the depth of give and take in your relationship with Toto. The effort, large and small, that you both put into nurturing one another’s happiness.

Even when your desires don’t perfectly align. Even when compromise is required.

It’s such a simple gesture, capturing those magical moments to share with your loved one. But it’s one Max was never willing to make when you were with him.

A lump forms in his throat as realization washes over him with unforgiving clarity. You weren’t too sweet for him, as he had so arrogantly assumed time and again. No — the truth, much harder to swallow, is that he was simply too sour for you.

Too selfish, too wrapped up in his own ambitions to make even the smallest concession. Too blind to recognize the magic in the simple things that brought you unbridled joy. Too bitter and jaded to embrace and nurture the beautiful nature that made you … well, you.

And now, after all his careless cruelties and wasted chances, he can only stand idly by and watch as someone else basks in the sweetness of your affection. As someone else goes out of their way, day after day, to put that blinding smile on your face and those stars in your eyes.

Something in Max’s chest cracks and crumbles at the injustice of it all. At the agonizing truth that he let the best thing in his life slip through his fingers, all because he couldn’t be bothered to change his sullen ways.

Because you were never too sweet for him … he was too sour for you.

[cute-sucker]

can’t stop thinking abt s1 rafe x shy!pogue!reader where he’s so mean to her but she has the fattest crush on him 😢😢

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ YOUR CRUSH ON RAFE CAMERON WAS ALMOST DEGRADING. it was exciting for him because it made him wonder how much he could push you. how much he could push you, and you'd still look at him with those adoring eyes of yours. how long you would offer up your body, innocent with your pouty lips.

it didn't matter if rafe dismissed you, or if he acted as if you didn't exist—you stayed there, trailing after him like a lost puppy. he liked it too, the thought that no matter what he did, you would still be there.

really, it was sickening how much you liked rafe. he'd push you away, cold mask on his face, the words, 'dirty pogue,' already on his lips—yet you would come back to him. with your soft words, and little gifts. sometimes you left him a small snack, a glittery pink pen etching your initials. sometimes he'd try not to notice the way you'd always be hopeful during parties with your tiny clothes, almost ready to talk to him.

see, he was nice to girls. how could he not be? but you. you defined every rule in the book. you were way to nice, you were a pogue, and lastly, there was the persistence. you wanted a boyfriend, not a hookup. but you were testing every limit he had with your presence.

he could barely control himself with you around, groaning softly when he saw you coming his way. there was a meekness to you, almost as if you were surprised you were even talking to him.  

"rafe?" you'd call, and when he turned around. of course, you were already blushing, pursing your lips to hide your smile, "um...would you mind signing this?"

rafe looked at you again, licking his lips before regarding your pleading look, "yea, why not. what's it for?" then he looked down at you, holding eye contact for a little longer than usual. quickly you got flustered, blinking down as you tried to hold eye contact back.

"uh—it's just for something."

"something? tryna be mysterious and shit?"

"oh no rafe! i—"

finally, he snapped, "alright listen. i know you like me, but uh, i don't do that girlfriend or boyfriend bullshit. especially not with a pogue," he drawled as he gave you a once over, before giving you slight look, "now, either we hook up or nothing."

you gulped, shocked at his outburst, but you couldn't help but pout. wasn't this what you wanted? all dressed up in your cute jumpsuit, all dolled up for him. so he could look at you, so he could appreciate you. at this point all you just wanted was him. but you couldn't give yourself up that quickly. all the blood rushed up to your head, and you knew you were blushing. hard.

"i don't know what you're talking about!" you blubbered, taking a step away from rafe. he laughed, cocking his head.

"oh shittt, don't give me those pretty eyes and tell me you don't want to fuck me?"

suddenly you bit your lip, feeling shy. this was the most you had ever said to him. of course it had to go this way. so you did what every normal person did; murmur something softly that was hard to pick up. but rafe was rafe, he perked up, eyes full of glee. as if he was enjoying your torment.

"c'mon doll, spit it out."

"i..."

"yeah? do i need to draw it out of you?" he whispered, stepping closer to you. your lashes fluttered, feeling like a deer in headlights. now or never. heat went through your body before you looked back up at him. you blinked slowly, a shy look on your face, taking a deep breath.  

"i...i do."

with his tongue tucked in his cheek, rafe leaned back, and signed the paper radiating smug satisfaction, "good. good. now that's settled, lemme finish something here before we get to that."

then rafe gave you a once over as if he knew the effect he had on you, before rising to leave, "see you tonight."

[irlsiths]

NIGHTS LIKE THIS ⟡ ݁₊ .

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀“i think about you, and nothing else..”

bsf!chris x reader

contains: fluff ! (slight) making out, a tiny bit of angst

you sighed quietly as you watched the sun set in chris’s car. gosh, it was so peaceful. it was quiet, but not an awkward quiet.

you glanced at chris, who was staring straight forward. the sun hitting his face in just the right way. he was beautiful. was it bad to feel this way about your best friend?

you just looked back at the sun, listening to the cars go by.

“y’know..” chris started, breaking the silence, “i—i know i don’t say this often but.. i love these moments with you.” he muttered softly, glancing in your direction for just a second.

you slowly turned your head to face him, a subtle smile resting on your lips as you spoke, “i do too.”

he just quietly stared at you, his eyes wandering down, not so subtly. before they suddenly looked back up into your eyes.

“you’re like my little getaway.” you joked, chuckling. and you earned a small chuckle from chris aswell.

but then, you shrugged. “no, seriously man. i can always be myself around you.” you smiled shyly, looking at him.

he smirked, turning his body to face you more. he liked that, liked that you were your true self around him, and only him.

“i love you man, you’re my bestfriend.”

his smile almost immediately faded, and he scoffed under his breath, facing forward. “yea, ‘f course.”

your smile was quick to falter as well, and you furrowed your eyebrows at him. what is he talking about?

“what? what is it? what did i say?” you said softly, not wanting to make him even more upset than what he obviously is right now. but, damn, were you curious.

he huffed, shaking his head. “nah, it’s nothing.”

but you sighed, you didn’t like when he got like this. all—quiet and upset. you weren’t gonna let him sit there and sulk.

“chris, seriously. what’s the matter with you? talk to me.” you said softly, gently trying to grab his hand to get his attention.

“no, i hate when you do that shit.” he said almost immediately, tugging his arm away, he was on fire now.

“that whole ‘best-friend’ thing. it’s all bullshit, and you know it!” he ranted, not even taking a glance at you.

“fuck, baby. i’m—so sick of waiting for you! waiting for you to finally be mine. you’re so blind—god, you’re so stupid.”

your lips parted in shock, and you just stared at him. trying to wrap your head around the fact that he liked you, back. you couldn’t even believe it,

so this wasn’t all one-sided feelings this entire time?

“chris look at me.” you whispered, and it didn’t even leave your lips all the way before chris turned to you. his eyes tired and upset.

“i don’t see you as just my friend.” you shook your head, not breaking eye-contact with him. “you’re so much more to me.”

he paused, staring at you for a second before whispering back.

“c’mere.” he mumbled, gently reaching over and pulling you onto his lap, hesitantly placing a slow kiss on your lips.

you smiled placing your hands on both sides of his face, tilting your head to kiss him back. just as eagerly, and slow.

it didn’t take long before chris started getting needy, licking your lips as he silently begged for your permission to taste you.

once you parted your lips, he pushed his tongue into your mouth, arching his back to be closer to you, wrapping his arms around you tightly as your tongues fought for dominance.

if anything; chris was making the most noise. letting out needy whines and moans, mumbling your name against your lips.

you gently ran your fingers through his soft hair, earning another groan from chris. gosh, he was so gone for you.

he huffed, getting impatient now. he gently started grinding against you, trying to show you how much he needed you.

“backseat, now.”

💌 hi, this one was so long i’m sorry 😭 but i’m back, (hopefully for good) should i make an nsfw part 2?

[zyafics]

SHOTGUN WEDDING | Rafe Cameron

MASTERLIST (oneshot) | x Maybank!Female Reader

Summary — You and Rafe are nothing but casual. But when he suddenly has the idea to get married, you agree after some convincing.

Content — 18+, smut, fluff, fingering, blowjob, and banter.

Word Count — 2.2K

"Let's get married."

"What?" You say breathlessly, lifting yourself by the elbows and turning to face Rafe. You don't know if you heard him correctly.

"I said let's get married," Rafe repeats in a lower octave, pushing away the prickling feeling beneath his skin—a consequence of your reaction to his vulnerable declaration.

There it is again. Clear as day. You hadn't misheard him the first time, and the dawning strike of realization causes your heart to skip several beats. But you still don't acknowledge it. Blinking, you're trying to decipher whether this is some cruel trick. "You're not serious."

"Do I look like I'm kidding?"

Annoyance flickers through his hard features and you purse your lips, not wanting to provoke him further by providing a sharp-witted comment. Your mind is spinning—partially from all the orgasms Rafe pulled from you, but also from the proposition.

Marriage. Does he understand the absoluteness of that proposal?

You suspect he doesn't. "You're delirious," you brush it off with a casual laugh, wanting to admonish any potential embarrassment that may arise in him and to move forward. "Let's just forget about it."

"I don't want to forget about it." Rafe grits through clenched teeth. Your reaction is the complete opposite of what he'd imagined to happen. Sure, you weren't the type to jump for joy, but goddamn, you couldn't give him something? "You still haven't given me an answer."

"You don't want a real answer."

"I'm clearly asking for one."

"It's just the post-sex haze."

"It's called post-nut clarity," he rectifies, "And my mind is perfectly clear."

You're giving him exits, to pretend to forget about it and act as if it never happened, but Rafe takes none of them. He doesn't want to drop it, so, finally, you ask. "Why?"

A heavy beat passes before Rafe shrugs, attempting to appear nonchalant when all he can hear is the thrumming of his own heart. "I like being inside of you," he reasons, before meeting the unimpressed look on your face, and adds. "You make me laugh."

You scoff. "Yeah, so do small children falling over. Get off of me," you shove him off, pulling to the ledge of the bed where your wobbly legs find balance on Rafe's hardwood floor. Not knowing how to process this change in affairs, you go search for your clothes instead.

Rafe watches as you scramble around the room, a reflexive habit of yours whenever you feel uncomfortable. His agitation flares, his jaw locks, and with a narrowed gaze that follows your every move, he pulls to a sitting position and rubs his chin with the back of his hand.

"Goddammit. Stop looking for your shit and look at me," Rafe commands, his voice bleeds with a tinge of desperation, forcing you to halt your recovery search to face him. Exposed. Utterly naked. But instead of Rafe making some sexual innuendo about your body, his eyes remain on your face. "Why don't you believe me?"

"Because we've only been fucking," you list, using your manicured fingers to count out all the reasons why this is a terrible idea. "You call me whenever you want a hookup. We're never not arguing, and I swear, sometimes, you don't even like me."

"I like you just fine," Rafe shrugs a careless shoulder, but the conviction behind his tone wavers. "And all the other reasons are bullshit. So, what? If we get married, we can fuck and fight anytime we want."

"That's faulty logic," you retort and he rolls his eyes. "Plus, it's not the basis for a strong marriage. I'm giving you an out; you're not thinking straight, Cameron."

"I'm thinking just fine."

"You sure?" You take a step closer, about to raise three fingers in the air, and ask him to relay the count, when Rafe inclines forward to grab the underside of your thigh, pulling you in. You let out a little yelp of surprise, slotting between his spread legs.

He lifts his chin to meet your gaze, his thumb running absent patterns across your sensitive skin. With a low voice, Rafe asks solemnly, "Why don't you want to get married?"

"Have you not been listening?"

"Those aren't good reasons," he affirms, causing you to huff.

"Only you would tell a woman their reasons aren't good enough," you muse, drifting your hand to the nape of his neck. You tilt your head to the side. "What classifies as a bad reason?"

A beat passes before he answers. "You don't like me."

After he says that, Rafe holds his breath, his eyes searching your face to see any minuscule change in your features only to discover none. Your hand locates his chin, caressing the hard definition of his jaw. "That's not true."

Rafe exhales. "Then, it's settled."

"No, it's not settled."

He groans, tipping his head back, enough for you to see the grand column of his throat. His Adam's apple bobs over your infuriating buffers. It's amusing, and for a brief moment, you envision a future where you get to do this forever. "Do you not want to get married?"

"I never said that."

"So, you don't want to get married to me?"

"Rafe," you sigh, and he returns his gaze. You're referring to him by his first name, instead of the adorned Cameron, and his skin tightens at whatever you plan to say next. "You're a Kook. I'm a Pogue. We're barely in a relationship, and I doubt your parents would approve of this."

"Fuck what they'd say," he admits, with the relentless urgency behind his voice. He means it. "I want to. Since when do you care about what other people think?"

"Since I'm going to be entering into said family."

You say it with such dolefulness, that it sounds like you already accepted his proposal. Already imagined a future with him. The corner of Rafe's mouth lifts; he just needs to do one more thing to convince you.

Rafe hoists you onto his lap to straddle him, your ankles on either side of his waist, as your naked core rubs against the side of his cock, the sensation quickly hardening his erection.

Expecting him to lift you onto his tip, Rafe surprises you by swiping his fingers through your wet folds, causing a small whimper to rise from the back of your throat. "Listen to me," Rafe rasps, pressing gentle kisses along your collarbone before lowering to your breasts, while the tip of his fingers toys with your entrance. "You've given me your reasons why it won't work, I'm going to give you my reasons why it will."

"I'm not going to change my mind,"

"You sure?" Rafe grins, teasing your slit. Your walls clench around the nothingness, desperately needing to be filled, and it causes you to bounce up and down, rubbing yourself against Rafe's hardened cock. Your hands land on his shoulders for steadiness, and that's when he begins to pump you.

"I think we look good together," Rafe lists with a grunt, feeling your pussy rub against his length. Desire pools inside of Rafe, his cock throbbing, but he concentrates on the task at hand, adding another digit. "You're the only person that keeps me on my toes—fuck," he groans, and you smirk.

Your slickness covers Rafe's cock, but you don't sink down on it. "Are you sure you're going to win this?" You murmur against the shell of Rafe's ear, planting feather-light kisses along the edge of his jaw. Rafe squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, needing to gather himself before he slides in his ringed finger—the cold singlet grazing your heat, making you gasp and stop your movements.

Rafe holds your hips, while his fingers fully thrust inside of you with such vigor and performance, that a rich moan rips from your lips. He concludes his final reason: "And I get to fuck this every single night."

His darkened eyes lift to meet your hooded ones. His fingers work a steady but increasing rhythm inside of you, the coil of familiar pleasure twisting your gut. "Look at how pretty you are coming undone by me. Don't you want this forever?"

"Shut–shut up, Rafe," you whimper, your hands reaching for his arm between your legs, attempting to slow down the pace as your sensitivity is plowed into overdrive. Rafe snatches your wrists into one hand, dragging them away. "Too much."

Your legs attempt to close around him, but his large frame prevents such a thing. Rafe grins at the look of pleasure blooming on your face, the unsteadiness of your breaths alongside your lashes fluttering against your cheeks, and he fastens his strokes.

Whimpers and moans escape you in rising increments, and Rafe kisses your mouth, swallowing all that noise and desperation and need. "Say yes," he murmurs against your tingly lips.

"N–no," you refuse, still holding an ounce of restraint.

But Rafe simply laughs. His fingers slow its assault, leaving your mind a completely boggled mess. Nothing but the sensation of your orgasm on the near horizon resides, hooked completely on fulfilling your own pleasure, that you can't think of anything else to do but whine.

He looks back at you, sincerity capturing his face. " I like you, Maybank. It'll be fun to make it official."

"I—" You can barely comprehend a single word he's saying, the fizzling of your orgasm dissipating as you desperately try to wield it back in. "I can't think right now," you whimper, lowering yourself to give him a needy kiss, "Make me come first."

He doesn't need another reason before he reenters you, his thumb circling your clit and massaging it as his fingers thrusts in and out. Sounds of wetness echo throughout the quiet room, and when Rafe leans forward to add another mark—biting a sensitive spot on your neck—you unravel with a loud cry, tipping your head onto Rafe's shoulder.

Rafe guides you through your intense orgasm, your walls clenching around him so hard, they barely can move. Slowing his thrusts until it completely fade away, when Rafe pulls out, he presses his slick-covered fingers on the dip of your bottom lip, forcing them apart to lick clean. And when you do, he pulls you back in to seal it with a kiss.

Your chest rises and falls heavily as your eyes close for a moment of respite. Rafe's gaze, however, never strays from your face—patient and waiting.

This is such a bad idea. The whole premise of a Cameron-Maybank marriage could potentially knock the earth off its axis. You're from two different worlds and carry different viewpoints, but there's something fun, exciting, and fulfilling in being with Rafe. It can't be just because he gives you one of the best orgasms of your life.

You know JJ would hate this. He barely tolerates the idea of your hookup with Rafe as it is, and out of everyone, you value most of your brother's opinion. But, for once, you can't seem to find it in yourself to care.

"Fuck," you announce, reopening your eyes and meeting his stare. "Fuck it. Let's do it."

Rafe's lips pull to a genuine smile. "Yeah?"

You nod. "It'll be fun."

He grabs your hand, "Let's go."

"Right now?"

"Don't tell me you're getting cold feet already?"

"You think I back down from a challenge?"

"It isn't the first time."

You slap his shoulder and Rafe laughs. He moves his hand to your hips again, lifting you off when you stop him. "Wait," you say, looking between you, at the red and swollen cock that hasn't gotten its release. "I have to do something before we leave."

You sink to the floor on your knees, still between his legs, as your thumb rubs the pearly beads of precum over the tip, causing Rafe to groan. He was so focused on your pleasure and making you agree to his outrageous proposal, that he didn't get a chance to relieve himself. You want to help.

After all, isn't that the first step to marriage?

Taking him into your mouth and tasting your slick rub all over him, you hollow your cheeks as you begin to suck. Rafe moans from the contact your lips made with his length, your hand wrapping around the base to steadily pump him alongside the suction.

It feels like absolute heaven. His hands thread through your hair, pushing you deeper onto his cock, and making you gag on the girth. This made you retreat, just slightly, to glare up at him. "Don't do that."

Wanting desperate release, Rafe's willing to listen to about anything. "Yes, ma'am."

When you return to sucking him off, Rafe makes sure not to push you further on his dick without prior approval, so you can take him appropriately. At least that means he'll listen to you in the marriage. As you steadily increase your pumps, and your jaw aches from the stretch, you feel Rafe's cock twitch.

"Come on, baby, come for me," you command, lifting your gaze to meet his eyes. Not even a moment later, he comes inside your mouth, spilling to the back of your throat, and you swallow up every lick of his hot cum.

You wipe the corner of your mouth with the pad of your thumb, and Rafe assists in pulling you back to your feet. Giving him a kiss, you grin. "Good boy. Now, let's go."

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[softspiderling]

god, it's brutal out here | r.c.

summary:

“And yet you’re still thinking of your ex,” Barry finished the sentence, rubbing his chin. “Why don’t you get back together with her?”

“She doesn’t want me.”

“God, fucking Country Club,” Barry snickered. “You’re fucking dense.”

OR; 5 times your friends share their unsolicited opinions about your and Rafe’s break up.

pairing: rafe cameron x reader

warnings: mention of c*caine

word count: 5,4k

author’s note: the long awaited sequel of so obsessed with your ex! this can be read as a standalone fic, but there are little easter eggs hidden all over, which will be more fun if you read the first part! it's a little bit longer than I had planned, but there was no way around it. I hope you enjoy it so so much!!!!

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

I Wheezie

“Hey Wheeze.”

You had accepted the facetime without looking at your phone, keeping it rested on a shelf while you were halfway into your closet, trying to find a dress.

“Does Rafe have a new girlfriend??”

Pausing, you shut your eyes, letting out a silent exhale before you picked up the phone, giving Wheezie a wry smile through the camera.

“Nice to see you too.”

The girl only looked at you, unimpressed and her arms crossed. You sighed, running a hand through your hair, knowing you didn’t have a way out of this conversation. Grabbing your phone, you sat down on your bed.

“Yes, Rafe has a new girlfriend.”

“I knew it!” Wheezie shrieked, throwing her arms up, and you only shook your head in exasperation. The tendency for drama clearly was in the Cameron genes. Wheezie frowned, getting closer to your phone as she looked at you.

“Why am I more upset about this than you are?”

You bit back another sigh. “Because Rafe and I are broken up, Wheeze. He’s allowed to date other people, matter of fact, I’m really glad that he has moved on.”

“Bullshit!”

“Wheezie!”

Wheezie rolled her eyes, but she sat back down, crossing her arms over her chest again. “I don’t like her.”

“You don’t even know her,” you sighed, rubbing your temple, feeling a migraine coming on.

“This is crazy!” Wheezie exclaimed. “You and Rafe never should’ve broken up in the first place! Rafe is probably only dating her to make you jealous so you’ll take him back.”

You couldn’t help but snort at that, Wheezie clearly watched way too many rom-coms. She frowned at you.

“Why are you laughing? This isn’t funny, this is, like, super un-funny.”

“Because, Wheeze,” you started, plucking a feather out of your pillow. “This isn’t some 90’s rom-com where I see Rafe with Rebecca and suddenly a sad song is playing. This is real life. We are broken up.”

“I still don’t understand why.”

“Remember when we used to fight all the time? And I was just always sad?”

Wheezie was quiet, her lips still pursed. “Yeah. But that doesn’t mean anything. Couples fight all the time, doesn’t mean you just have to break up.”

“Yes, couples fight all the time and they don’t have to break up, but it was the right decision for me and Rafe,” you said, your tone final. Wheezie looked at you, her frown slowly smoothing down.

“If you say so,” she muttered, not quite convinced. She stared down at her chipped finger nails, before she looked up again. “Can we still talk?”

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Of course we can still talk, why wouldn’t we?”

“I don’t know… I mean, you’re gonna find a new boyfriend and maybe he has a younger sister as well and then I’ll just be your ex’s younger sister.”

“Wheeze,” you said, fondly, knowing where she was coming from. You had been in her life for most of her teenage years, it must be weird not having you around anymore. “We’ll still talk, no matter if I get a new boyfriend or not, even if he has a cool younger sister, or even three.”

Wheezie smiled, rolling her eyes at you. “You’re so dumb.”

“Yet you still want me around,” you teased. “How about you, Sar and I go get some ice cream and then to the movies this weekend?”

“Sounds good,” Wheezie replied with a big smile. She paused when someone called her name from somewhere in the house, before she turned back to her phone. “I gotta go, Rose needs me. I’ll text you later.”

“Alright, Wheeze. Talk to you later, be good.”

Wheezie waved into the camera, before the facetime ended. Your smile dropped and you tossed your phone on your bed with a sigh, letting yourself fall back on your bed. Even six months after the break up it was still hard to talk about Rafe, and now that he had a new girlfriend, you thought it’d be easier to get over him, but all it did was hurt more. It didn’t help that Rafe was still texting you every now and then. Nothing scandalous, just small texts, but you never replied. You both agreed on no contact after the break up, because you thought it’d give you a better opportunity to heal. You should’ve known he’d break it. Picking up your phone, you unlocked it, swiping to your messages.

Rafe [11/30/23: 1:43 am]: couldn’t sleep. remember when we took out the boat at two am bc we both drank a red bull at ten?

Rafe [11/30/23: 11:22 am]: sorry, i was drinking. didn’t mean to text you. hope you’re doing good

Rafe [12/25/23: 2:44 pm]: merry christmas. it’s weird without you.

Rafe [01/01/24: 01:02 am]: happy new year’s.

Rafe [01/05/24: 9:56 pm]: are you really not gonna text me back?

Rafe [01/27/24: 3:07 am]: i miss you

Rafe [02/12/24: 12:05 pm]: saw you at the party last night. you looked so fucking pretty. took everything in me not to talk to you.

Rafe [03/01/24: 7:12 pm]: idk if you care or not, but i still wanted to let you know. i’m seeing someone

You never replied to any of the texts, knowing it was for the better. You could block him, but you never brought it over your heart to do so, telling yourself you wanted him to reach you in case of emergency, but deep down, you didn’t want to block him.

Just incase.

II Barry

“Want some C?” Barry asked as greeting, presenting Rafe a small baggie with white powder in it as soon as he walked onto the lot.

“Nah,” Rafe declined, already feeling jittery enough without it, “Won’t say no to a beer though.”

Barry let out a grunt, tossing the baggie on the table, disappearing inside the trailer. Rafe took a seat in one of the chairs, running his hand over his buzzed head, bouncing his leg nervously. He had needed to get out of the house for a while. Ever since Rebecca pulled the picture out of the drawer, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. Again.

Which is fucked up, really. He thought he got over you, he didn’t want to be the guy who thought about his ex while having a whole ass girlfriend. The door to the trailer opened with a slam, Barry exiting with two beer cans, handing Rafe one of them. The can was ice cold in his hands, and the cold liquid helped with his racing heart. He let out a sigh, rubbing a thumb over his eye brow. Rafe took another gulp of the beer, almost drinking the entire can in one go, while Barry watched him, assessing.

“You good?”

Rafe nodded, setting the can on the table.

“Yeah, jus’ stressed.”

“Work, or…?”

Barry trailed off without finishing his sentence and Rafe didn’t answer, wiping a finger over his jaw, which was clenched to the max.

Barry eyed him skeptically, leaning back in his chair. “How’s Mrs. Country Club?”

Rafe let out a loud sigh, tipping his head back, like he always did when he was annoyed with Barry.

“Barry, I don’t know if all the drugs you’re taking are starting to get to your memory, but we broke up.”

“Don’t be fucking rude,” he said, kicking Rafe’s chair. Not hard enough for it to tip over, but hard enough for Rafe to grip onto the arm rests, glaring at his friend. “How’d you know I wasn’t talking ‘bout your new girl?”

“Because you always call her Becky,” Rafe pointed out, giving him a look.

Barry shrugged, taking a sip from his beer. “You still know who ‘m talking about, so what’s the problem?”

“Problem is, it’s disrespectful. You know that’s not her name.”

“You’re still hung up on your ex while dating Becky, so who’s really disrespecting her?”

Rafe’s head shot up and the glare he sent Barry was deadly.

“Fuck this shit, and fuck you,” he snapped, pushing himself up from the chair, but Barry grabbed his wrist, stopping him.

“Boy, sit down.”

Rafe scowled at him, before sitting back down, crossing his arms over his chest like a petulant child. He did not come all the way out to the cut to get called out like this.

“If you came here to be coddled, you went to the wrong person.”

“I don’t need to be coddled,” Rafe muttered with an eyeroll. “Just wanted to let off some steam.”

“So?” Barry snorted, waving his hands around. “Steam away.”

Rafe scoffed, scooting down in his chair, shaking his head. “Do you think I want to think of her? I fucking hate feeling like this. Bex is nice, and she’s hot. And yet-”

“And yet you’re still thinking of your ex,” Barry finished the sentence, rubbing his chin. “Why don’t you get back together with her?”

“She doesn’t want me.”

“God, fucking Country Club,” Barry snickered. “You’re fucking dense.”

“Nah, you don’t fucking get it, “ Rafe sneered, leaning his head in his hands. And he didn’t, not really. Which really wasn’t his fault. Rafe just didn’t want to talk about the break up with his friends. Physically couldn’t. Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t told anyone why you broke up. Just made it feel all to real, he guessed.

“Nah, you’re right, I don’t,” Barry said, shaking his head. “All I know is, one day you’re all fucking sunshine and the next you’re more emo than that Friday girl.”

“What?” Rafe asked, lifting his head to stare at Barry in confusion.

Barry waved him off. “You know, that freaky girl from Netflix with the black lipstick.”

“Do you mean Wednesday?”

“Yeah, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, all the same to me,” Barry huffed. “Point is, life’s too fucking short to do things that don’t make you happy.”

“Bex makes me happy.”

Barry gave him a long, hard look, squinting his eyes at him. “Yeah, right. Whatever makes you sleep at night.”

Rafe stared back at him before shaking his head, finishing the last of his beer before crushing the empty can in his hand, declining to answer, because he knew he couldn’t convince Barry.

He wasn’t even convinced himself.

III Topper

top [05/03/24: 4:06 pm]: gonna be at alex’s later tonight with rafe and rebecca just fyi if you wanted to come

mrs. rafe [05/03/24: 4:57 pm]: k, thanks for letting me know

—— NEW MESSAGE ——

top [05/04/24: 1:37 am]: can you pick me up?

It was Saturday night, a little past your bedtime for a night in. You were getting ready for bed, exiting the bathroom when your phone buzzed in your hand. Lifting it, you read the new text, not quite believing he’d make you do this. What the fuck was he thinking asking you to pick him up? Shaking your head in disbelief, you typed out an answer.

mrs. rafe [05/04/24: 1:41 am]: topper no

Before you could put the phone away, your phone already buzzed with an answer, and you nearly didn’t want to read whatever lame ass excuse he came up with, your hand stilling when your eyes flit over his text.

top [05/04/24: 1:41 am]: please, i don’t want to get a ride with rafe and rebecca

top [05/04/24: 1:41 am]: she asked me so many questions about you and i can’t be around rafe rn or i’ll tell him

mrs. rafe [05/04/24: 1:45 am]: … fine

mrs. rafe [05/04/24: 1:47 am]: you’re so annoying

Cursing Topper and yourself for not going to bed sooner, you put on a sweatshirt and grabbed your keys and purse, typing out another text before you headed out of the house, getting into your car.

mrs. rafe [05/04/24: 1:49 am]: be there in ten

top [05/04/24: 1:50 am]: omg i owe you <3

Barely ten minutes later, you pulled up in front of Alex’ house, looking out for Topper, before you spotted him underneath a tree. You rolled to a stop next to him, giving him the most unimpressed look.

“You’re a lifesaver,” Topper groaned, getting into the car, shutting the door behind him.

You rolled your eyes, pulling off the curb without another word, driving towards Topper’s house.

“I’m really sorry for asking you to come get me, but Rafe was looking for me and I had too much to drink already to lie in his face,” Topper said, leaning his back against the headrest, shutting his eyes.

You desperately wanted to know what Rebecca had asked but you didn’t want to come off as the nosy ex, even if this was Topper. So as nonchalantly as you could, you asked: “What did you talk about?”

“Jesus,” Topper said, running a hand through his hair. “She asked me how you guys broke up and wanted details, too. Was super insistent, I was kinda scared actually.”

Okay, so just normal sussing out the ex, you could deal with that.

“What did you say?”

“That it was a mutual break up and I didn’t know why you broke up, just that you suddenly disappeared from each other’s lives.”

You sighed. That was the vaguest answer you’d ever heard.

“Why didn’t you just tell her why we broke up?”

Topper glanced at you, his brows knitted together.

“How can I tell her something I don’t know?”

“What?”

You slammed on the breaks, nearly sending Topper flying through the windshield because the idiot hadn’t buckled up, while you stared at him.

“What do you mean you don’t know why we broke up?”

“I don’t!” Topper exclaimed. “Rafe refuses to talk about it and you never told me either.”

“Because I assumed Rafe has told you! It’s been like six months!”

Blinking at Topper, it took you a few seconds to process, jumping when someone honked their horn at you, when you remembered you had stopped in the middle of the street.

“Shit,” you muttered, shifting gears to keep on driving, eyes flitting to Topper repeatedly.

“So…” he started. “Why did you guys break up?”

You gripped the steering wheel so tightly your knuckles turned white, letting out a deep breath. When you had left to come pick Topper up, you hadn’t expected having to tell him why you and his best friend had broken up.

“I was getting so worried about him. He was so stressed about the company every day, took home so much work and Ward was breathing down his neck to keep the numbers up. I told him that I thought he should take a step back, maybe take a break or something, tried to convince him of going on a trip or something, but the more I said, the more he seemed to be pushing himself into work. It got so bad that we were fighting basically every day, and it just wasn’t working anymore. It felt like we were going in circles.”

You cleared your throat when you felt yourself getting choked up, vision turning a little blurry from the tears in your eyes.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Topper exclaimed, patting himself down, looking for some tissues.

“Don’t worry about it,” you snorted, wiping your tears away with the sleeves of your sweatshirt. You were so wrapped up in trying to retell the break up, you hadn’t even noticed that you already reached Topper’s house. “I shouldn’t even still be getting so worked up over this after all this time,” you sniffed, turning your car off.

Topper looked at you, with that typical look on his face and you rolled your eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that. I can’t believe Rafe hasn’t told you.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Honestly? I think he might be in denial about it.”

You scoffed at him, shaking your head. Why was everyone so hung up over your break up?

“It’s been six months.”

Topper didn’t reply, his hand on the car door and you expected him to bid you good bye, but that was too easy.

“… Do you think you guys will get back together?”

“He has a girlfriend, Top.”

“Still. I don’t think that Rafe and Rebecca are gonna last very long.” Topper looked at you, pressing his lips together, before shaking his head. “Sorry. Thanks for coming and for getting me home. Text me if you need anything, okay?”

You nodded, giving him a small wave, and waited until he got out of the car, shutting the door behind him, before you turned your car on, pulling off.

“What the fuck,” you muttered to yourself, wiping the rest of the tears off as you drove home.

IV Kelce

“Kelce!”

Kelce looked up from the pool table, a smile growing on his face when he saw Rafe come down the basement, his friend wrapping an arm around him for a brief hug.

“Happy birthday, man,” Rafe said, handing Kelce a bottle of the expensive whiskey he always drank when he was at Rafe’s but too stingy to buy it for himself.

“Ah shit, you didn’t have to,” Kelce uttered, though his eyes were sparkling as he looked at the bottle in his hands. He handed the pool stick to one of the guys next to him, leading Rafe to the bar. He grabbed two glasses from the shelves, pouring Rafe and himself a good amount, offering one of the glasses to him.

“Cheers to you.”

The two clinked their glasses, before sipping on the whiskey. Kelce really enjoyed it, too, with the way he closed his eyes, and Rafe only snorted in his glass. Kelce peaked his eye open, shoving his friend fondly with a grin.

“Rebecca here?”

“Yeah, upstairs.”

Kelce hummed in thoughts, nodding absentmindedly. He stared into his glass, swishing the amber liquid around before he spoke up again.

“You know she’s here, too, right?”

Rafe tensed, knowing exactly that Kelce was talking about you, but he had expected it. Firstly, because you and Kelce had always been friends, and secondly because he had heard Sarah making plans with you to go together. Didn’t mean this felt any less of a punch to the gut. He really hoped he wouldn’t run into you, because he wasn’t quite sure what he’d do; all he knew was, that Bex wasn’t gonna like it. Rafe cleared his throat, forcing himself to sound nonchalant.

“I figured, yeah.”

“That okay?” Kelce asked, and Rafe was starting to get annoyed, rolling his eyes. Why was Kelce questioning him about you on his damn birthday? He tried to dampen his anger though, not wanting to ruin the night.

“Yes. It’s your birthday, man.”

As soon as those words left his mouth, Rafe knew he did a shit job of hiding his emotions, and Kelce eyed him suspiciously.

“I don’t get you guys,” he sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. “You got a new girl, but you still haven’t gotten over your ex, clearly, but every time I mention her, you act like it’s the worst thing in the world, but neither of you have said a bad word about the other.

Rafe scoffed, though his heart started to race at the thought of you talking about him. He wondered what you had said, if you cared enough to ask about him, or if you had long moved on.

“Are you ever gonna tell me why you guys broke up?”

“Maybe next time.”

Kelce gave him a wry smile, knowing this was Rafe avoiding the topic again. He lifted his head when more people starting coming down the basement, curling his hand around Rafe’s shoulder to give him a squeeze.

“I really hope you figure it out bro, because this right now is not it.”

He then excused himself to welcome the new arrivals and Rafe gripped his glass, before downing it in one go.

“Alright, who wants to get destroyed in a round of pool?” he asked, clapping his hands together as he approached the pool table. Anything to stop himself from going upstairs to look for you.

V Sarah

“Oh my god, I thought you were gonna keep talking to her forever!”

You gave Sarah a look. She hadn’t even waited a minute after you left Rebecca on the couch before she started talking about her.

“I don’t have a problem with her.”

Sarah groaned, linking her arm with yours as to not lose you in the crowd that has formed in Kelce’s house. You were glancing around, hyper aware that you could run into Rafe any second, but you didn’t want Sarah to notice.

“I don’t understand how you can be so chill. Did you not see the picture she had in her purse?”

You sighed, brushing your hair back over your shoulder. Was this ever going to stop? “Sar, please.”

“Hello?? That was super freaky.”

“Maybe she was just cleaning up and wanted to throw it in the trash and forgot it in her purse.”

Sarah laughed dryly, shaking her head. “Bullshit! Admit that you find it weird.”

“Okay, maybe it is a little weird,” you admitted. “But don’t you do things that are a little weird sometimes? Maybe she’s just a little insecure. Which I wouldn’t blame her for, you’re so mean. Shouldn’t you try and be her friend or something?”

“Why? She’s not gonna be around much longer anyways, and I already have a friend.”

You rolled your eyes, fishing your keys out of your purse to unlock your car. Again with the sentiment that Rafe and Rebecca weren’t gonna last much longer. You decided against deeming that statement with an answer and got into your car, with Sarah getting into the passenger seat.

“Do you want to grab some burgers?” She asked, buckling up, like she hadn’t just told you that your ex and his new girlfriend weren’t gonna last.

You gave her a look as you tossed your purse to the back.

“What do you mean do I want to grab burgers? I thought you wanted to leave because you’re meeting John B early in the morning.”

Sarah blinked at you, before she reached out to give you a shove on the forehead. “I was lying so we could get away, stupid.”

“Oh my god,” you groaned, starting your car as Sarah protested.

“What? I was getting weirded out by you being all besties with Rafe’s new girlfriend. I don’t even understand how you can be so nice to her knowing she’s all up on your man.”

“Pray tell, who’s my man again?”

“Don’t even,” Sarah huffed. “You guys dated forever, I know you still love each other. And let me tell you one thing,” she said, raising her eyebrows at you. “If you got a new boyfriend? Rafe would not be this nice to him like you were to Rebecca.” With that, Sarah crossed her arms over her chest, settling back against her seat.

You only sighed, starting your car in silence.

“Do you want to get burgers now or not?” you asked, extending a peace offer while looking over at Sarah. She glowered at you, before nodding with an eyeroll.

“Yes.”

BONUS + I Rafe

“I did, at the party last night… She said she’s happy that you have me, that she was worried about how you work too much.”

Rafe pushed the pasta on his plate around with his fork, too engrossed in his thoughts to even think about eating. He didn’t even notice how Dennis had stopped talking. Rafe looked up from his plate, only to see Dennis look at him intently, an amused grin on his face.

“Sorry, were you saying something?”

“I was saying a lot, but you seemed like you were on a completely different planet,” Dennis noted, wiping his mouth with a napkin. Rafe winced, putting his fork down.

“Sorry, I have a lot on my mind.”

“I can tell,” Dennis mused. “Trouble in paradise?”

“Something like that.”

Rafe sighed, leaning back in his chair. Ever since you broke up, Rafe has been assuming that you didn’t care about him anymore, that you had long moved on from him and your relationship. He thought that you resented him, blamed him for the break up, which was honestly the main reason why he went back to the dating scene so quickly; to get over you. But hearing that you still cared about him? Enough to be nice to his new girlfriend and even ask about him? He wondered if there was still a chance for him and you to be together again.

If it weren’t for the fact that he already had a girlfriend.

“Can I give you some unsolicited advice, son?”

“Do I have a choice?” Rafe asked with a wry grin and Dennis only let out a belly laugh, shaking his head.

“Rafe, most relationships these days end because of your own ego, from both parties. No matter how big the fight or problem seems, will it really be that important in hindsight?” Dennis asked him. “How long have you an your girl been together? Almost 5 years, no?”

Rafe nodded, not daring to correct Dennis. He had never outright told him that you had broken up in the first place.

“See, that’s half a decade. I can assure you, in another half, you’re not even gonna remember this fight.”

Yeah, I don’t know about that, Rafe thought.

“Do you love her?”

Turning his ring on his finger, Rafe let out a soft exhale, before nodding. “Yeah, I do.”

“See. Problem solved.”

Rafe lifted his head to grin at Dennis.

“Thanks. Is it okay if we cut today short?”

“Sure,” Dennis said, waving Rafe off when he reached for his wallet. “Lunch is on me. Go get your girl.”

“I will,” Rafe promised, pushing his chair back to stand up. “I just gotta take care of something else first.”

BONUS + II You

You were staring at your phone, text thread with Rafe open. It was Saturday night; you and Sarah had went out to a small beach party. Sarah had gone to fill her drink back up and you had used that time of solace to overthink. About Rafe.

For the past few week, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. And you blamed your friends for it, really. First Wheezie, then Topper and then Sarah? Somehow all of them said that the break up was the worst idea, and even though you had always second guessed the choice to break up, this was the first time you actually actively regretted it.

The way Sarah seemed so sure that Rafe and Rebecca weren’t going to last long. Maybe you were wrong and they weren’t as happy as you thought. But then again, it wasn’t any of your business, was it? Who were you to put your nose into their relationship?

God, you shouldn’t be doing this.

“How long does Sarah need to fill her drink back up?” You muttered to yourself, finishing your vodka soda and burying the cup in the sand next to you, when you heard foot steps approaching.

“Finally! I was about to send a search group out for you!” you exclaimed, standing up and dusting the sand off your lap. “Seriously, how long does it take for-”

You froze when you turned around just to see Rafe standing in front of you, instead of Sarah. Swallowing thickly, you blinked at him, caught off guard.

“Rafe, hey,” you said, opting for casual. “Sorry. I thought you were Sarah.”

The corners of Rafe’s mouth twitched. “Yeah, I could tell.”

You looked at him, sighing a bit wistfully (mostly) internally, before you shifted on your feet nervously. “It was nice to see you,” you said, and it was true. “But um… I think I’ll go look for Sarah.” You gave him a small smile, before walking towards, and then past him.

“You’re still worried about me.”

You let out a startled laugh, pausing mid-step to turn back to him. “What?”

“You told Rebecca that you were glad that I had her and that you worried I work too much.”

“Of course I’m still worried about you,” you huffed, brushing your hair back. “You can’t be surprised about that.”

Rafe looked at you, and you could tell that this was news to him.

“Rafe.”

Rafe let out a sigh, rubbing his forehead. “You didn’t reply to any of my texts. I thought you were mad at me or somethin’.”

“I didn’t reply to any of your texts because we said we’d do no contact for a while.

“Still,” Rafe muttered, kicking a rock. “I didn’t think it would be so easy for you-”

“And because you were happy with Rebecca, do you think it’s easy for me to see you with someone else?”

“I broke up with Rebecca last week.”

“What?!”

Mouth agape, you stared at him and Rafe only rubbed the back of his neck. “She… Wasn’t what I wanted.”

“Oh,” you only said, letting out a soft exhale. “I’m sorry about that.”

Rafe sighed, stuffing his hands into his pockets. His gaze was trained on the floor for a bit, before he lifted his head to look at you.

“I want to try again… I want us to try again.”

“Rafe…”

You swallowed thickly, your eyes wide and you didn’t move as Rafe took a step towards you, reaching for your hand. Your fingers were cold in his but they quickly warmed to his touch, and the way he laced his fingers with yours, felt all too familiar.

“I love you. I never should have agreed to breaking up. It was arguably the second stupidest thing I’ve ever done.”

“And what’s the stupidest?” you asked, corners of your mouth lifting.

“Not listening to you when you were just trying to help,” he answered, looking down at you, so vulnerable like you hadn’t seen him in a long time. “I rearranged my schedule at the company so I could take on less work, take more time off and relax. Take the time to get us to where we were before it all went shitty.”

Your heart was in your throat as you listened to him talk, unsure what to say.

“Rafe, I don’t know… “

“Baby, please,” he begged, squeezing your hand. “Do you love me, still?”

You scoffed. “That’s not fair.”

“Why? Because you do?”

“Of course I still love you,” you mumbled, looking up at him through your lashes. “Do you know how hard it was for me to ignore your texts? To see you with another girl, so happy?”

Rafe shook his head, lifting his hand to tuck your hair behind your ear. “I wasn’t. Not really.”

You let out another sigh, looking at the way your hands were intertwined, how your heart had stopped racing, before you nodded, looking up at him. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

A smile spread across Rafe’s face, so big it was so uncharacteristic for him.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

It was like that word switched a flip inside of him, as he grabbed you by your nape gently, to kiss you, slotting his lips against your, and as your lips touched, it felt like you were finally home again. You only pulled away to breathe, both of you staring at each other like you couldn’t quite realize this was happening.

Sarah [05/11/2024: 10:45 pm]: (sent to 4 contacts) [picture attached: blurry photograph of you and Rafe kissing at the beach]

Topper [05/11/2024: 10:46 pm]: thank god.

Kelce [05/11/2024: 10:51 pm]: FINALLY!

Wheezie [05/11/2024: 10:59 pm]: !!!!!!

Barry [05/11/2024: 11:02 pm]: read at 11:02 pm

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

author's note: sooo.... what are we thinking?

[nemesyaaa]

S2!rafe cameron x kook!drug dealer! reader

summary ; so....reader's snorting a line of coke on rafe's dick, and rafe taking pill of ecstasy on reader's pussy...just two losers getting high together (2k3 words.)

warnings : mentions and using of drugs. smut (without real plot.). oral (f. receiving). minors dni.

"so why did you call me? need me for somethin’?"

“ oh please, you’re the one that needs something, when have i needed you for anything?“ after all, you were the dealer, and it was your client so you were right. “ and if you didn’t want to hear from me, you probably shouldn’t have given me your number?”

“ so what, you're just bored ? ”

“ i have something for you. ”

you shook your head, sitting comfortably on the edge of your bed. with one hand, you waved a bag with colorful tablets inside in front of him with a smile falling on your lips.

rafe's eyes lit up, as if suddenly your call was worth it.

“ it’s kinda sad that your face only lights up like that when you’re about to take drugs. ” you rolled your gaze, realizing that you now had his full attention. "you want it? of course, you do. we all know rafe cameron would do anything to get high."

“ and you like that. ” he shutted. “ when your ass is spoiled by my money.”

he came closer to take the bag but you moved your hand away, being much faster than him. he gave you one of his confused looks, his jaw clenching, all frustrated by your move. “don’t play with me like that. just give it to me.”

“ mmh, let me think ? no.” you ordered. “ you want it ? earn it. no kook privilege here.”

rafe started laughing, a nasally laughter that loudly echoed in the room, as his tongue hollowed the side of his inner left cheek with a smirk. “ i don’t beg, quit being a bitch, i don’t beg to have to ‘earn’ this shit. ”

you looked at him warily, knowing full well that he would. “ i think you’re gonna start listening, because you’d do anything to get what you want. if not, it doesn’t really matter to me, i have plenty of clients from figure eight who will pay me twice the amount you do. i just have to call them right now, just give me a sec... ”

his need for drugs was kinda sad,and you felt slightly guilty for using it against him. but as a businesswoman,you easily learned to take advantage of others' vulnerabilities, to use their weaknesses. you had been raised like that, there was nothing you could do about it. and it wasn't like rafe cameron was a nice guy. it was even he who encouraged all this violence within the island.

he finally knelt down, his icy glossy-teared gaze meeting yours, his lower lips trembling and begging you to shove the damn pill in his mouth. he could almost drool on the floor because he was so desperate for this shit.

“it’s immediately less fun when you’re the one begging.” you commented, noticing his blue eyes shine because of the impatience you were putting him through.

“ i did what you asked me to. so no more playing bef…”

“ before what? what could you possibly do? kill me? you gonna try to drown me, or maybe strangle me.. people talk y’know. look, i don’t have time for your bullshit, I’m in charge right now, this little power struggle isn’t going to get you anywhere. i’m not one of your little friends and i’m not scared of you. i don’t need your money but you need drugs, so who do you think is going to win here? get it together or get out. ”

rafe cameron hated this feeling, the way you making him feel shitty, the way you felt so superior to him with your worlds. it was — too much, too humiliating for him.

he was seething, a mixture of rage and sadness, but above all need and weakness. he needed this drug, as much as he needed you to give it to him now. you were terribly making the blood boil in his bulging veins. his body was tense, and inside his mouth, it was foaming. you could see he could die from this. he would have liked to be able to use violence on you, but he was incapable of doing so. you held him helpless.

"you’ve never been in this position before, but don’t worry, you’ll get used to it."

you brushed aside the strands of his bangs. “just look at that face, you are pretty, i’ll admit it” you traced his lips with your thumb, brushing it softly. with a mocking tone, you said. “ i don’t get how anyone could be intimidated by you, you’re such a baby. or maybe you’re just like this with me. ”

“ don’t call me that. ”

“then don’t give me a reason too. you’re not better than anyone. now relax, let’s just have fun." and you placed a colored pill against your tongue before pulling your lips over his, slowly sliding and driving the drug into his mouth.

you pressed your tongue against his in a mixture of dripping drool, pushing the colored pill against both of your mouths as they sought each other, sharing each other's taste. you claimed him, as you slobbering directly in his tongue, sucking the pill that had passed from one mouth to the other, from his saliva to yours, slipping in your lips and outside his, before returning to him. “ open up, rafe.” and you released the drug down his throat.

you leaned back, a trickle of saliva stretching from his tongue to your parted and swollen lips. you were breathing heavily as if he had stolen your breath during the kiss.

“ we're not done yet. " you replied in his ear, giving his earlobe a lick.

you sat on the edge of the bed again, removing your skirt and panties before spreading your thighs to let him view your perfect and sweet pussy. you placed a new pill on your tongue, caged around your two fingers before a load of drool caused the drug to slide just between your cunt.

“oops, so clumsy.” you scoffed. " you wanna get that or should i ?"

he moved closer, settling between your thighs but you grabbed his face, gently squishing his cheeks like a little boy. “i know with an ego as big as yours it’s hard to say thank you. you should try using your manners once in a while ”

“ stop trying to mess with me, just give me the damn pill.”

“ mmh…asking like that ? surely not. ”

you wedged the drug between the slits of your wet cunt lips. you could feel rafe’s burning gaze on your thighs, but also that this whole situation was turning him on deeply. drugs as much as sex.

he needed that taste again. he was addicted to it. “come on, get your shit.”

and you didn’t need to say it twice, before his mouth was rushed against your pussy, claiming it as his tongue prodding your lips to find the aphrodisiac candy. you moaned at the feeling of him wrecking your dripping cunt, lapping in it through the pill of drugs. you clenched around him, as he slurped into your soppy folds. he slipped it into his mouth, before giving your pussy a strong and heavy lick, while he gripped your left thigh. his nose was big enough to lolling your clit, getting him so ticklish, to gently caressing your skin. the wet tip brushing it. your hips moving at his messy pace. the way he sucked you was just — so good.

you were completely on cloud, the vision of his dirty face buried between your legs, his sweaty bangs ghosting his forehead, his teeths gripping into your cunt, as his tongue circling around your clit, wetness smeared sloppily through his jawline making you even more wet, and getting him hyped by your little and pretty moans that fell into your lips. the slurpy noises of his mouth devouring you in sync with your desperate voice, tongue smacking your bud. you let your hands hold him in a tight hold in his hair, as you lost yourself against him.

your legs were caged above his broad shoulders, while your hips slapped his cheeks harshly. you were sensitive, gurgling and trembling under the weight of his warm tongue as it touched your sensitive spot to the deep, slurping every single drop of juice dripping in and out of your sweet needy cunt. he lapped every corner as a dog, wrapping and curling his breathy lips around your pulsating bud, groaned everytime he feels it tense around him. and jesus — he loved your damn taste.

his breath was warm, fanning over your spreaded slit which was soaked directly on his tongue. his hold was tightened, literally digging into your flesh, as his mouth filled you so well. she looked even bigger in you, getting her way further in your insides. he was so starved, sucking and sucking as your taste was making him feel even more high than drugs. you could literally see stars, and draw them. your vision was blurred as you reached heaven.

his tongue was heavy and slobbery against your dripping pussy, mixed between his own saliva and your own wetness, which made his entire jaw shiny with the mixture. and with that, the ecstacy effect began to build, making the pleasure even stronger and hotter.

the way your body arched as he eaten your pussy like he hadn’t touched anything, licked anything in months.

you had re-slipped a pill to give him even more of an appetite, feeding him like a starving man. you could feel his short cutted grunts against your pussy, as your hips rubbed his face.

your head was spinning, and your stomach was spiraling. it felt so good, but you were so lost. the drugs, the sex, rafe, everything was wonderfully good. why go to heaven when you have everything here?

rafe had never felt so good, he loved cocaine, he cherished this drug that he had broken and which he could no longer live without. but honestly, he liked drugs in general, anything that would make him high and unstable. he needed this to survive.

he sometimes dreamed of being clean, but it was impossible. all this shit was too much — too important for him. when you came in his mouth, releasing all your heavenly juices on his tongue, you blocked his breath by pulling him harder against your soaked and juicy cunt, forcing his throat to gasp, and swallowing everything that came to his cavity.

“ i want to try something with you.” you said in a lower tone, as you reach his pants, his hard and thick dick stretching the fabric.

he followed your gaze to his boner, not aware of what you were talking about, but the way your eyes were fully gawking at it, getting him even more excited, especially with the effect of drugs inside his mind.

“ i want to get high on your cock. doing a line on it…will you let me ? ”

“ you're sick.”

“ well duh, i hang out with you, don’t i?. ”

“ give me that coke, gonna get the line for ya. ” he offered as you handed him the drug.

he couldn't help but sniff the smell of the coke, as his nose was plunged into the white powder, making him even harder.

you can see the volume of his size growing against your eyes. “ can't you stop it, actually ? ”

“ don't be funny. ”

you took down his pants and his boxers. his cock was tense and big, fully erect right in front of your face. he placed the drug in a straight line on his flesh, while you salivated, watching the powder disperse over him.

“ stay still, rafe. ” you gently shouted.

“ do you really think i can control it ? hurry the fuck up. ”

“ don't stress me out. it's my first time doing this. ” you replied as you lowered your face above his stiffened cock, feeling the tense of his body through the hard rock. his curvy tip flopping some precum drop in the air, as your nose pointed toward the drugs.

it was the first time you experimented something like that, and you felt giddy about it. you blocked one of your nostrils before snorting the entire line at once,while rafe held your head during the whole process. his hand gripping tighter in your hair when the coke reached your nose. and you giggled the next second and doing it again just to feel the sensation another time. his dick twitched against your cheeks, tapping your skin with some lazily slaps.

you were about to step back, when he pulled you away by the neck, your hair falling over his grip, and face leaning toward him. “ already done ? don't run away. you gotta clean up your mess first ”

you lapped his cock to get him clean, rolling your tongue over his sensitive length, the fat shaft throbbing over your mouth, as your saliva soaked him. .

you were high — mouth licking innocent with stoned-looking filled with dizzy eyes. you needed more. but the moment you were about to talk, rafe came between your lips, spurting his warm loads inside you.

“ you wanted a thank you ? here it is. now we're done. ”

“ we all know that you will come back to me. ”

“ babe.” he cutted. “ you wish i came back for you’, but we all know why i came back. ”

“ pretend to not like it if you want, but don't forget to say my name when my taste will still drip from your mouth while you're kissing others. ”

“ glad that you're aware that you're not the only one. now, i'm leaving. don't call me. ”

“ don't need to call you when you will be at my door like a dog. ”

“ do i really have to put my dick in that mouth to shut you up ? or you gonna be a big girl and do it alone ? ”

“ oh oh. seems like you’re just looking for an excuse to do it, but your dick isn’t big enough to keep me quiet.”

“ not big enough ? ” he repeated with a smirk. “ keep talking, sweetheart before i'm gonna stretch that mouth open to death with that not-big-enough dick. ” he came closer, towering you with his height “ glad that you love yapping because after that, i can promise you that you will have something to talk for the entire year. now open that mouth. bigger. want to be a whore ? then make daddy fit in. ”

[rustedhearts]

somebody told me (fratboy!steve harrington x fem!reader)

summary: steve has made it very clear that he doesn’t want you. but he doesn’t want anyone else to have you either.

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

i want your things in my room (part one) the library record store

tags: angst, mean!steve, so much tension, yeah the football player is tim riggins in my mind and so what?! i literally wrote this months ago, enjoy <3

"heaven ain't close in a place like this"

— somebody told me, the killers

may 1st, 2009

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

It came hissed in the doorway between the second floor fraternity steps and the sticky wood paneled wall. Steve hovered above you, breath sour with beer and a new bottle dripping condensation through the hand dangling at his side. His eyes were slanted and directed down at your eyes watching him in surprise.

30 seconds ago, he cornered you against the wall after your swift trip to the bathroom. You caught eyes with him across the kitchen nearly an hour ago, and it took all this time of carefully scanning your movements when you weren’t looking for Steve to get you away from the junior you came with.

“What are you talking about?” you laughed. “It’s a party.”

“I didn’t invite you.”

You swallowed, trying not to let your good-natured grin drop. You were well aware that Steve didn’t invite you.

After he practically ran from your bedroom two weeks ago, things went radio silent between you and Steve. You texted, he didn’t answer. You called once, thought about leaving a voicemail, and spent a whole weekend crying when you realized: he didn’t want you. Someone who wants you doesn’t flee your room the way he did that night.

You were perfectly content wallowing in your idiocy for ever thinking Steve Harrington could have a special spot for you in his tiny, shriveled heart—until said junior you were attending tonight’s party with saw you at the dining hall.

You were studying late into the evening, sitting all alone at a table near the fireplace with your books sprawled out and your picked-at dinner in scraps. He came staggering in with a band of other men, all sweaty and half-dressed from practice. He was a linebacker on the football team, and he looked damn good easing into the chair across from you and making it squeak.

His name was Tim and he had a handsome smile, and a slow way of talking in this Texan drawl that had you blushing. For the ten minutes he sat and talked to you and asked you what you were so focused on, you forgot all about Steve.

You texted for a week, grabbed a few lunches and coffees together, and now here you were. At a frat party, invited not by Steve—but Tim.

“I know that,” you told Steve, pulling your arms up to fold them over your chest. Steve’s eyes flashed down to your breasts cupped under a black lace bra peeking through a red shirt.

“I came with Tim.”

Steve screwed up his nose, pulling back a little. “Tim? Tim who?”

Huffing, you pushed yourself off the wall and pressed Steve back by the shoulder. “Tim, Steve. Now, excuse me, but I’m gonna go find him—“

“No, hey.”

Steve snatched you by the elbow, causing you to fumble on the carpeting and narrowly miss someone heading up the steps. You gasped, stumbling into Steve still against the wall.

“Steve, what the hell?”

“‘m not done talkin’ to you.”

You glared at him, wrenching your arm away with force. “I don’t care.”

You rushed down the steps before he could speak again, head suddenly swollen with confusion, heart pounding hard in your chest. He hadn’t touched you in weeks. Hadn’t spoken to you, looked at you, so much as acknowledged you since the last time he was inside you.

All it took to get his attention was to finally attempt to move on? It was bullshit. It made your cheeks flame and your mouth line with sweetness that made your stomach coil. It wasn’t fair.

“Hey.” That soft Texan drawl called to you.

You raised your head from where you were glaring at the floor, softening when they found Tim’s green gaze. He grinned at you, still holding your red plastic cup from earlier. You retrieved it from him and allowed yourself to tuck into his side under the weight of his arm.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” you told him. “Long bathroom line.”

Steve stepped into the fluorescents of the kitchen, weaving his way through bodies with wide, squared shoulders. He tossed a quick glance your way and shook his head as he made his way through the room. And what pissed you off most was the fact that he thought he had the right. The right to be upset, the right to think anything of you.

“Baby, you look so pretty in that lil’ top,” Tim said, tipping his chin down to you with a lopsided grin. He was a few beers in and loopy.

You grinned. “Do I?”

“Mhm. Real pretty—come gimme a kiss.”

You perked up on your toes to meet his mouth. His lips were always warm and soft and soaked in beer. Lord, college boys drank a lot. If you closed your eyes and forgot where you were, sometimes he even tasted like Steve.

But Tim always called you baby, and Tim always called you back. He walked you to class with your books in his arms and a hand on your waist, opened the door for you, and helped you into his truck when he took you for coffee.

And Steve? Steve acted like you didn’t exist if his dick wasn’t inside you.

Your tongue was just slipping past Tim’s teeth when you were torn apart by force. Tim stumbled aside, knocking you as he went and catching you quickly with a hand on your waist. Both your heads turned sharply toward the assailant.

Steve stood near the island where Tim had previously been, holding a bottle of beer and a look of nonchalance. His eyes glided from Tim’s look of surprise to your absolute glare.

“Sorry about that,” Steve said coolly. “Wasn’t watching where I was going.”

Tim resumed his spot beside you, and your body felt like it was vibrating against his. Every part of you was burning—and you couldn’t tell from what. Anger? Humiliation? Arousal? Maybe all three. You swallowed with difficulty and let Tim pull you in again. But your eyes never left Steve’s.

And his never widened from their slits. The ball of muscle near his jaw bone knotted when he clenched his teeth and it didn’t move.

“You okay, baby?” Tim’s attention was on you, and you looked away from Steve to smile at your date.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”

The footballer had an easier lightness to him. Breezy, taking things with a grain of salt. He didn’t bother fighting Steve for his ‘mistake.’ He didn’t scold him for knocking you. He only smiled at you with a pair of pretty dimples and kissed the top of your head, arm bending around your shoulders.

“Wanna get outta here?”

Because he’d be going home with you. And it only took Tim a few moments to deduce that it was that fact alone that would drive Steve crazy. Even if you couldn’t.

You nodded, hand rubbing over his chest. You spared one more glance toward Steve, who had stepped away toward the other side of the kitchen with slow, slithering steps. He took a swig of his beer and clenched his teeth on the swallow.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

Tim held your hand on the way out, guiding you down the front steps and toward the street. Your arms swung over the pavement, and you almost felt compelled to check if Steve was watching. What the hell was wrong with you?

“So what was that?”

You peered up from the pavement to Tim’s green eyes. “What?”

He cocked his head back at the brightly-lit house dimming behind you. The music faded the further you went. He was still wearing that dimpled grin.

“Back there, with that guy.”

You inhaled, looking back toward your feet. It only took a few moments to decide that you didn’t want to lie.

“We…used to hookup. But it’s completely over, I swear.” You skirted to a stop, gathering Tim’s other hand and meeting his eye again. “He’s just being a dick about it.”

He snorted. “I sort of got that when he came from across the room to ram into me.”

A giggle burst from your mouth, but it drooped into a frown. “I’m sorry.”

Tim frowned, brows creasing. “For what? You don’t got nothin’ t’ be sorry for, pretty girl.”

The warmth pulsing in your chest you could certainly make sense of now. “Okay.”

He grinned again, dropping one of your hands to squeeze your chin affectionately. “Okay. Come on.”

You walked the rest of the way to your apartment with his heavy arm over your shoulders again. And Steve watched from the front seat of his car, knowing exactly where he was going as he peeled away from the curb.

✶ ✶

“Alright, goodnight, little lady.”

“Goodnight, Tim.”

Your voices were punctuated by the slam of a door. Quick footsteps followed, a rhythmic succession ascending the staircase. Over the creaky board on the other side of the door, then—

“What the fuck?”

It burst open to a streak of lamplight in your bedroom and one Steve Harrington shadowing it at the foot of your bed. He had your university football teddy bear in his hands. It was a gift from Tim and it had his number on the bear’s soft yellow t-shirt.

Steve leapt to his feet. “What are you doing?”

You couldn’t seem to close your mouth. It hung open as you watched Steve raise his brows and jerk his chin expectantly. He tossed his arms out on either side.

“Huh?”

You came to your senses with a hard blink. “What am I doing? What the hell are you doing? How did you get in here?”

“Same way I always get in,” he quipped.

Heat touched your cheeks as you stepped into the room and gently clamped the door shut. You snatched the teddy bear from his hand and placed it back on your desk silently. Your purse fell to the floor where you were standing.

“You didn’t answer me. What the fuck are you doing?”

“Is this about the party or Tim?” You kicked your shoes off one by one, keeping your back to Steve and his stupidly pretty face.

You had such a soft spot for pretty boys, it seemed.

“You know what? Both.”

“Okay,” you sighed, pulling the first layer of your outfit off. Steve’s eyes scanned the lace of your tank top as red fabric made its way toward the hamper. “Tim and I are seeing each other. Tim wanted to go to the party, which happened to be at your frat—alas, there we were.”

The mattress springs yipped when you bounced on the edge to pull a clean pair of socks on. You wanted to strip your jeans, too, but you didn’t want to give Steve any ideas. He was already standing there with his arms crossed and his biceps and chest all puffed and sculpted. He already had that handsome pink tinge to his cheeks: his beer blush.

“Well, it’s weird,” Steve stated.

You rolled your eyes, exhaling a snicker. “Okay, Steve. Can you leave now? I’m tired.”

Steve tapped his finger on his arm, watching you shift on the bed and feign exhaustion. He chewed his cheek for a minute before reaching for his hair.

“Well…you know I missed you, right, sweetheart?”

He dropped his hands and softened his eyes into that soft, puppy-dog pout. Your scoff was sharp and sliced through the room. Steve stepped toward the bed.

“Right.”

“No, really,” he urged, sinking into the mattress before you. “You know I was just made president, and I just got super busy, that’s all. I meant to call you.”

You tipped your head at him and stared directly into those faux-pleading hazels. "How come everything you say to me sounds like a line, Steve?"

Steve sat unblinking for a moment. Then his cheeks colored a rosy shade, and he covered it with a cruel scoff and another sweep of his hair.

"What? Come on, you-you know I like you."

You pushed off the bed, head shaking. That warmth was slowly but surely returning to your body in violent form. You pulled your hair off your neck and padded toward the window to open it. Your room already smelled too much like Steve.

"You like playing with me," you corrected, keeping your back to him even as the mattress shrieked with his freed weight.

"You know, you're such a bitch-"

You spun around, shoving him by the chest. Steve stumbled a step back, but the smirk on his face made you regret even touching him at all.

"Get out."

"Hell no," he bit, lunging back into place. He grabbed at your arm again. "You think Tim wants you either? You think he doesn't just like playing with you? You always gave it up so easy."

Tears bubbled in the edges of your eyes. A tingling burn settled in the bridge of your nose. You shoved at him again and angled your head away from him and his sneering scowl and beer breath.

"Fuck you, Steve."

“You’re trying to replace me? Hmm?” Steve cocked his head to meet your eye, and you wished you could will away the hot tear trickling down your cheek. “That’s fine, sweetheart. I’ve got ten of you in my pocket.”

He shoved your arm away with a scowl, and you sniffled as he headed toward the door. All the hot-headed, enraged words pulsing on your tongue shriveled and died—and they were replaced with a hurt and heartbreak that was so familiar it was almost comfortable.

Yet as he opened your bedroom door, you rubbed your arm where he had held you and sniffled.

“Stay away from me, Steve.”

Door in hand, Steve turned and scoffed at you. “No problem.”

✶ ✶

You spent the next hour crying between makeup wipes and playing your radio on low. Pulled a faded grey t-shirt from your pajama drawer and tried not to look at Steve’s face rumpled at the bottom on a white t-shirt. Why hadn’t you thrown it away? He was so hard to let go.

With the football bear cradled to your chest, you wiggled under the covers and reached for the lamp. Your phone buzzed consecutively on the nightstand, causing pause. The plastic clicked on its hinges as it flipped open, and the sheets rustled when you shot up in bed.

u up?

tim is a fckn l0ser

answer

i’m sorry

The first time he called, you didn’t answer. You watched the small square light up with his name, felt the plastic shake in your palm with the force of its ring.

answer

Another call. You pressed the green button, but waited.

“Hello? Hey-hello?” His faded voice brought you from your daze.

You pressed the phone to your ear. “Hello?”

“Jesus, do you not read your texts?”

“Wh-what…why are you calling me?” Disbelief colored every syllable from your mouth.

Steve huffed. “I just…how much do you really know about this Tim guy?”

You looked at the bear sitting on your lap against the sheets. “About as much as I know about you, Steve.”

The line buzzed with quiet for a while. You played with the hem of the teddy bear’s shirt and gnawed on your lip. An ache balled in your chest when the thought of him hanging up occurred to you.

“Fair,” he said quietly.

Sighing, you shimmied under the covers again and reclined back against the headboard.

“Why are you calling me, Steve?” This time it was softer. You couldn’t give in to him anymore, but you had to hear him out. He never called you like this.

He never acted like he cared until now.

“Just…don’t wanna see you get hurt.”

You scoffed, pressing your palm against your head. Despite the way your heart pulsed with excitement, and the way your nerves locked up at the thought—you knew Steve didn’t mean any of it. He was just jealous. He wanted you as his personal plaything and he didn’t like to share.

You couldn’t swallow it anymore. You couldn’t keep biting your tongue to stay the perfect toy in hopes he might see you as more.

You had to end it.

“You already took care of that, Steve.”

You reveled in the buzzing silence of the other line for a beat.

“Goodnight,” you told him.

And you hung up the phone.

[ph4ngz]

i need isagi, bachira, nagi, reo, chigiri, kunigami, shidou, sae, rin & barou x fem! reader (all separate) doing it raw for the first time?? pls pls pls pls pls

DOING IT RAW || BLUE LOCK

MMMMMM *feral noises.*

ISAGI YOICHI

"You're... y-you're on the pill, right baby?" he asks as soon as his tip meets the soft, slick outline of your entrance. His eyes are clenched shut, nose scrunched up as he does everything in his power to focus on the unfamiliar sensation of real pleasure, no bullshit condom, just pure skin on skin with his favourite girl. "Oh, shit..." he moans out loud, his features twitching and contorting in ecstasy. He's loving every second, finally able to experience every detail with his jolting, excited cock. "G-God, I-... oh~ t-tight!" he cries out quietly, attempting to control his volume as his head rolls back. Every so often, he repeatedly slides his sensitive cockhead back and forth over your puffy clit, relishing in the way it feels to mix each other's arousal together before recklessly jostling it inside once more. "Why... how... are you so fucking good?~ ah-"

BACHIRA MEGURU

"Wait, I thought it felt good already... now it's gonna be even more delicious?~ oh, wow. You're tooooooo good to me, my girl~" he'd cooed against your soft lips when you'd suddenly told him to fuck you without protection. Bachira couldn't care less if he's got a condom on or not. As long as you're having fun, he'll cum his brains out anyway. Even untouched. "Soooo, ya like it? What gets you off, huh? Is it that you can feel it pulse inside you?~" he asks playfully and oh so shamelessly, poking his tongue out as he rests your legs on his shoulders. "Bachira Meguru~ d-don't be so... so lewd..." you whimper towards the end of your sentence, the way his pelvis grinds against your gooey pussy to drive his cock in deeper making your eyes roll back. "Huh~ what, you embarrassed? Hehehe, oh— mmmh, don't be silly, you're the one who's getting my dick wetter by the second."

NAGI SEISHIRO

Oh, he's all for it. All you had to do was mention the mere concept of it and he was hauling you into his lap with that pretty, blank stare of his. "Wanna do that now." he's murmuring into your ear with all the focus he can conjure up going toward the strength of his big hands, already trying to remove your pants without ripping them. "Ohooooo," Nagi whines deeply into your shoulder once his fingers get wet whilst slipping your panties aside, "you're so wet, I wanna stick it in. Can I please...?" he asks lazily, dragging his lips across your skin so sensually, slowly. "Knock yourself out." you grant him permission with a shared dreamy stare, not entirely knowing what you're getting into until he's slipping himself in immediately, balls deep within seconds. "Hhhhh... hhh- I love youuuu~" he's moaning and sighing so slowly and it's almost making your ears twitch to hear more. "Condoms are such a hassle, o-oh... never wanna go back~"

MIKAGE REO

"We can do it raw, right? Can we do it raw?" a few strands of purple fall in front of his eager eyes as he holds an unopened condom between his fingers, already so worked up by the mere thought of pushing his needy cock in without some stupid condom preventing him from feeling the thrill he needs. Reo is ready to toss it behind his shoulder at the drop of a hat, and you don't think he even saw you nodding until a split second after he threw it away... "Fuck yeah, I'm so ready for this right now... you ready sweetheart?" he doesn't even wait for you to answer before he's spreading your cute cunt with his thumbs, intently watching his pink tip squeeze past your slicked up folds. "Oh my fucking godddd-... been waitin' for so long~" you hear him groan as he squeezes your thighs tightly. Every inch of his hard dick feels like it's on fire due to the way your hot arousal is coating his sensitive skin more and more, no pesky condom in the way.

CHIGIRI HYOMA

The little smirk on his gorgeous face when you tell him... hehe. "You're being for real, yeah? Okay, just... just c'mere, I'm not waiting around." he drags your body into his, grinding his clothed cock into your ass from behind, huffing impatiently like a spoiled brat. "You're letting me bang you raw..." a pearly white smile graces his face, he looks proud that you're finally letting him do this. Eyebrows bowed in pleasure, he watches his perfect tip squish between your folds and gather some of his sparkling precum on the way inside. His eyes are rolling back every five seconds, so sensitive and vulnerable under the influence of your wet cunt, especially now that there's no protection. "W-Woah, I'm— hhhhholy shit. Don't move, I might cum on the spot~" he warns you with a pornographic whine, pushing his hair back so he can get a clear view of your pussy trying to keep him all inside. "...I can go as fast as I want to as well, mm?~"

KUNIGAMI RENSUKE

Ugh, he's doing his best to act like he doesn't give a shit. "Yeah... fuckin' sure, we can do that. Won't make much difference." he said. "Again... I need more- more~" he growls and sighs now. So stubborn, but you love it. How his hair somehow becomes more messy due to how fucking turned on he is, how he keeps trying to stop his frown from faltering every time you clench on his ruthless huge cock. He's already fucked his cum further into you twice, clearly not able to get enough of the amplified pleasure that comes with being allowed to release all up inside your velvety pussy for the first time. "Did you get even t-tighter or something...? Fuck, fuck— ugh~" he pounds into you hard enough to bruise, his huge breeder balls smacking against your ass whilst a growing streak of white dribbles from your abused hole each time he bottoms out. "Jesus, fuck! H-Hah~" he's almost got tears in his eyes, the sheer euphoria seeming to be strong enough to puncture his pride.

SHIDOU RYUSEI

This guy wants it. He fucking loves it. He pressured you into this, after all, knowing well that you were rather paranoid about unprotected sex no matter how bad you wanted to experience him raw. "Oh, baby... please? C'mon, you gotsta' loosen up a little to have more fun with me~" he roughly placed a hand over your forehead to thoroughly stroke your hair back, making sure you felt like you had nowhere else to look besides his own, unnerving eyes. "Or you could let this big, raw fucking cock do that for you..." he'd offered lowly, a certain seriousness in his tone that you just couldn't shake as his nose almost touched yours. And so here you are, his unforgiving length buried deep within your guts. You swear you can feel his heartbeat inside of you, his erratic breathing and whining almost confirming your suspicions. "Gonna let me do this, yeah?~ ah, this feeling is fucking perfect I swearrr..." Shidou groans with a twisted, dirty grin when he makes you nod eagerly for him, "oh my god... can feel all of you, hah, ah- shit."

ITOSHI SAE

"I won't refuse." is what he responds with when you snatch the condom wrapper from his hand and toss it to the bedroom floor. "Mm." Sae grunts softly when his bare and pulsating cockhead squeezes its way past your glistening, pretty entrance as both of his hands massage the flesh of your ass. If it were any other girl he was slowly dipping his cock into right now, they wouldn't think he could notice any difference at all. But you're not any other girl, you can sense him preventing his blunt nails from damaging your asscheeks, hear the sound of his throat closing up to prevent an outright whine, feel his fat dick trying to jump within the sultry contracting of your walls. "G-Go, all of it~" you demand sweetly, reaching your hands back to hold his own and tug him in. His breath shakes once his tensing balls touch your clit, the sensation of his solid length pressing the very limits of your insides without a layer of latex separating you causing a hardly controlled "yeahhh..." to escape from behind his gritted teeth.

ITOSHI RIN

God, he's trying way too hard. Acting as if he's not falling to bits right before your misty eyes, as if he's not on the verge of fucking drooling like a rabid animal at the way your hot slick connects the very end of his perfect cock to your throbbing entrance with a clear string. "...'re you ready?" he asks in that breathy, addictive voice of his whilst impatiently sliding his tip up and down between your soft, slippery lower lips. Please, please, please is what he's chanting inside. "Green light." you respond with a strained and sexy moan muffled by your forearm, feeling him trace a circle around your clit, a cooling drop of pre-cum latching onto it once he pulls back to position himself. It's when the first few inches of him are surrounded by your heat that he struggles to let go of his breath without holding it again. "Whew- Alright, fuck..." Rin pants slowly, his tough guy act starting to crack uncontrollably under the power of your perfect cunt.

BAROU SHOUEI

He said nothing when you agreed. Just pulled you in for the roughest kiss you've ever had. And suddenly, you're being bounced like a rag doll on his horse cock, every vein as prominent as ever along your fleshy, sticky walls. "Never show me a condom again." he grunts into your neck, his big hands gripping your perfect body with a steel grip like he could lose you if he let go. "I wanna fill you up... wanna fill you up with my cum- agh~ hhhnnggh..." his voice is deep and grumbly, vibrating against your skin as he bites a little to show some restraint. The manner in which your walls are spasming around his raw, long cock is making it increasingly difficult to keep himself in check. "Damn it, please... don't make me lose control of myself..." he pleads lowly, his huge arms holding you in position and bouncing you harder on his fat dick. "H-oh my-... good, good girl."

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