#and whenever we’re in the kitchen together

[psychoticwillgraham]

well. I’ve got an admirer at work now lmao we have three guys from the local drug/felon rehab (they get clean and to avoid prison time, they work a part time job here at the nutrition center and they’re all felons) who do the floor and kitchen (two on the floor, one in the kitchen), and the new kitchen guy has a massive crush on me that’s so obvious and actually kinda adorable. he constantly tells me I’m pretty every day, asks where I am if I don’t come in to help and acts sad when I’m not here, and will initiate conversations with me even when I’m busy as fuck, especially on Thursday bc I pick all the fried chicken off the bone that day, just so he can hear my voice.

he’s also told moose, my bff here, that he loves the way I talk (which makes me feel a bit better bc I’m super insecure about my speech patterns and mega gay sounding voice) and thinks I’m the sweetest, kindest, and coolest person here. and he’s EXTREMELY obvious about the flirting and I try not to flirt back bc I’m aro but I know he won’t understand what that means, so I try not to accidentally lead him on. he’s also aware that I dress butch as fuck and thinks the butcher I look, the cuter I am. I’m just not used to being complimented/flirted with this much and it’s so bizarre to me honestly bc nobody’s ever been this blatant about their crush on me before.

mom was also being a dick about him bc ‘you better not date him because he’s been a drug addict and is a felon, and you don’t want to deal with that shit’ and like bestie. that’s just being a massive dick. i’m technically a recovering addict, only with alcohol, and I know the risks of being friends with ex addicts and I’m fine with it. and just bc he’s a felon (drug possession I think) doesn’t mean ppl shouldn’t give him a second chance. you’d think that since she sat in on all those recovery meetings that she’d be a little more sympathetic, but nope. she’s just a cunt.

[nighttimealone]

Cw: Nsfw (141 x fem!reader, live together)

Beside you, Kyle is the first to wake up in the morning. He’ll pad towards the kitchen, enjoying the sight of you making your morning drink silently, before moving to stand right behind you, arms wrapped around your waist as he grinds he bulge lazily against your ass. He just wants to feel your warmth, how nice your soft flesh press against his cock.

“Just want to feel you, baby. It’s so cold out here.” He’ll unabashedly slip his hands under your pajamas shirt, kneading your breasts and tugging at those sensitive buds, forcing you to stop brewing your drink because you might spill the liquid.

Kyle just want to get an orgasm from you, a gift for you two morning birds, he claims before succumbing to sleepiness and tuck himself back under the duvet, fully content with being the first man making you come undone everyday, and sleeps in 5 more minutes.

You know Johnny will drag you into the shower with him whenever he comes back from his morning jog. You chide him before he engulfs you in his embrace, lightheartedly calling him a stinky man and shush him to go shower first.

So his solution is hug you despite your protest, then pull you inside the bathroom together, stripping off your pajamas and his sports wear impatiently before jumping into the shower with you.

“We’re both stinky now, jus’ thought ye might need a shower too.” Johnny grins when you glare at him, shamelessly pretends he’s just ‘looking out for ye’ while his hands traveling across your body, groping and preparing you for his cock with his hard dick prodding at the small of your back. He’ll never hurt you, but as soon as you’re wet enough for his girthy shaft, he’ll pick you up, stretching you deeply and completely with the help of your weight, groans and growls at how good you are, how your precious pussy takes him so good, ignoring Ghost’s noise complaint coming from the other side of the bathroom door as he fucks you fast and feral, making you unable to care about suppressing your moans and cling onto him, let him keep scooping you in his arms and thrust into you till he empty his balls in your good little cunt.

Finally getting Kyle and Johnny pass out from the alcohol, John and Simon manhandle them back to the bedroom before entering the living room again. 00:13, a glance at the clock telling you it’s late in the night, but it’s just the start for the three of you. Retrieving a bottle of fine rum, John seats you between him and Simon, thighs touching with theirs as you all sip on the wine and chat quietly. “The boys will chug the rum like it’s some cheap beer, they can settle with those just fine.” John chuckles lowly and comments on the awful taste and drinking habit of Kyle and Johnny.

“Those bonkers will stick to your side the whole day and complain if they find out, old man.” Simon chimes in after huffing out a laugh at John’s words.

You snicker along with them, feeling fully content and relaxed with squished between two of your lovers, joking about the other two men you loved while the rum flows smoothly down your throat. Soon your composure slips after few nips of the wine, whining cute and groggily as Simon ravish in the kiss with you, tongues dance and tangle with each other in a slow pace, let him drink down all your syrupy moans and coos in rare gentleness, so John can slickens up your pussy with his lips and your juices, making sure you can accommodate their fat cocks later, and you can’t expect or plead him to sink his cock into you already until him and Simon can see your juices dripping down your soaked folds, praying them to fill you up.

The two men will treat you so well, worshipping their dearest girl in the world. Simon’s fingers and lips are always on you when John squeeze his fat tip into your entrance, gliding in and out slowly and heavily, so all those spongy spots of yours that can make you chant his name like a mantra aren’t missed out. When he put a load in you with a husky groan, passing you onto Simon’s lap and let you lean back on his chest, he’ll plant tiny kisses on your shoulder, murmur about how they love you—will protect you and keep you safe and sound—against your skin. Simon allows him to indulge in the heat and tightness of your pussy, grunting and praising you as he fuck John’s cum back inside you, making sure you take each drops of John’s seeds, like the reliable lieutenant he always is for his captain. The base of his length has formed a creamy froth the time he nips down slightly on your shoulder to muffle his moan, drenching your messy cunt with every bit of his release. “Atta girl.” His croon is added with John’s soothing voice “Yeah, been so good for us, princess.”

They both pick up the glass once again to finish the remaining rum, with you already drifting between your slumber and consciousness, listening to their small chatters as your own lullaby. You don’t know when they’ll finish drinking, or if one of them will nestle their cock inside your pussy again, just to feel your walls clenching down subconsciously, but you let yourself slip into a dream, because they’ll take good care of you, always do and always will.

[that-house]

Potion Vendor FAQs:

What’s your name? I am the Honorable Alchemist Zykocea the Radiant, but that’s mostly just a PR thing. My friends call me Zoe.

Do you sell love potions? No.

Do you sell potions of invisibility? No.

Do you sell fire resistance potions? No.

Why do I have a suitcase? Fuck if I know. Cool outfit though. Very goth.

Do you sell a potion to treat brain hemorrhaging? No.

So what CAN your potions do? I sell health potions.

Are you sure these are health potions? They do something to your health.

Is this just ditch water with some pink glitter? No.

Really? I’ll have you know I added some fruit juice too.

Why is this starting to sound like a conversation? Oh just you wait. We’re just getting started.

Is your business model legal? Fuck no. I poisoned the food safety inspector before they could snitch.

Did you just admit to murder? Just fucking try to convict me. I’ll poison the judge too.

So can you make poison potions? No.

Then where do you get the poison? I secrete it from my skin.

Are you shitting me? Yep, I’m shitting you. I have a guy. A poison guy. He DOES secrete it from his skin though.

How does that work? …Fuck if I know. Maybe a wizard did it. Damn, now I’m kinda curious.

You never asked? The idea of asking literally never crossed my mind.

Wanna ask him? Let’s do it. I don’t have anything better to do, and a road trip beats sitting around running my fraudulent potion business.

Road trip? He lives in Seattle.

Your poison guy lives in Seattle? All poison guys live in Seattle.

For real? All the poison guys I know live in Seattle.

And how many poison guys do you know? Just the one.

Why are you like this? Years of living on my potions. It changed me.

Do you know what his address is? Nope. He just mails me my poison in unmarked boxes.

You just get your poison in the mail? We already poisoned everyone who could do anything about it.

So how are we going to find him? We’ll figure that out eventually I’m sure.

Can I drive? God no. You can pick music, but I maintain veto rights. Make sure you pick something with a lot of questions if you want to sing along.

Where’s your car? The garage connects to my house, so you’re getting a little tour. Here’s the kitchen: only one of the stove burners works and I’m pretty sure the microwave is haunted.

Why do you think that? Because of the ghost that tries to kill me whenever I run it.

What’s in that room? That’s my bedroom. It’s pretty much just a mattress on the floor and every single Warrior cats book.

You were a Warriors kid? Yeah, and then I never found the time to put the books away. There’s so many fucking books. I use them in place of furniture because I can’t afford chairs.

Your fraudulent potion business doesn’t make much money? After buying all that poison I just about break even.

Can I see your potion brewing room? It’s right through here. Ignore the mess, running a fraudulent potion business takes a lot of prop work, but I’ve got all the glass tubes and colorful liquids you could ever want. This pink stuff is melted watermelon italian ice. Glitter vat is in the basement, and the famous ditch is in the backyard.

Is this your car? My beloved ‘72 Corolla. She’s beautiful, and don’t you dare imply otherwise.

Was she always this shade of muddy brown? …Yes.

Are you sure I can’t drive? Get in the fucking passenger seat and pick the music.

Let’s see, a song with questions in it, how about The Beach? That Wolf Alice song, yeah. That should work.

When will we three meet again, in thunder, lightning, in rain? Still sink our drinks like every weekend but I’m sick of circling the drain.

When will we meet eye to eye? We clink the glass but we look at the floor.

Are we still friends if all I feel is afraid? You’re not a bitch but just a bit when you’re bored.

Is that all we can sing together? Yep. Even that little bit was nice, though. It’s awkward, communicating through this FAQ format.

Got any food? Yeah, there’s a few days’ worth of snacks in the back.

Were you just… prepared to go on a road trip? Says the woman who brought a suitcase to an FAQ.

I did do that, didn’t I? I have a spare toothbrush in case you forgot yours. I’m pretty sure you did.

How did you know that? …I’m psychic.

Yeah? No.

You love lying, don’t you? I can’t stop. It’s fun. Way more fun than telling the truth.

Did you just miss a turn? Probably.

Are you sure we’re not lost? No.

You mean you’re sure we’re not lost? No, I mean I’m not sure we’re not lost.

Why did I come on this road trip? Surely it was my winning personality.

Would it help if I said it was? It would.

Is it getting dark? Soon.

Can you describe the sunset to me? An empyrean flame, red-gold towers of darkening clouds, the sky behind them an ever-deepening indigo. The great eye of the sun closes on the horizon. The road before us looks like a trail of spilled paint, an iridescent gash through the night-dark woods.

Did you know that you’d make a slightly better poet than you do a potion seller? That really isn’t saying much, huh. Good job making a statement like that in question form, though. You’re getting good at this.

Should we find a motel? Sure.

One room or two? One. It’s way cheaper, and like I said: I’m not the best potion vendor.

You’d make a good assassin, though, wouldn’t you? Shit, you might be right. I HAVE poisoned a lot of people.

Should I be endorsing this? You’re a grown woman who can make her own choices.

Would you like to consider it endorsed? I’ll consider considering it.

How many beds do you think there will be? Now that you’ve asked that, I’m gonna put my money on one. Hello, one room please. Thank you, we’ll be sure to enjoy our stay.

How many beds are there? One.

Oh no, what ever will we do? Move over, you motherfucker, you can’t have the whole bed.

Are you gonna make me? Yes. I am going to pick you up and drop you on your side of the bed.

How did you get so strong? You’re not gonna believe this, but it was the potions.

Oh yeah? I was right. You didn’t believe me.

For real though, how did you get so strong? Working out, duh. Not everything has some big crazy secret behind it. World’s still beautiful though.

Are you comfortable? This beats the mattress at home. A little chilly though.

Wanna cuddle–for warmth of course? God yes.

Are you asleep? …

Yes? …

Does this mean I can talk about you behind your back? …

What should I say? …

Did you know that I had a really nice day? …

Did you know that I think you’re beautiful? …

Did you know that I can’t remember anything from before today? …

Did you know that I don’t know who I am? …

Did you know that you’re basically the only thing stopping me from having a full-blown panic attack about all this shit? …

Did you know that you’re warm? …

Did you sleep well? Better than at home, that’s for sure.

Did you know that you snore? I hope I didn’t keep you up.

Does the pope shit in the woods? No, as far as I can tell. Oh my god. This is huge.

What is? You can give me yes and no answers now. I still can’t ask you questions, because this is a question and answer format, but I can offer leading statements and now you can answer them! This is wonderful!

Does a deer shit in the woods? Yes, it IS wonderful. Oh that’s amazing. You’re a genius.

You didn’t already know that? Hahaha!

Shall we get moving? Yeah, just let me grab something from the vending machine.

Can you get me something? Go ahead and place your order however you can.

You know those sour gummy watermelons? One pack of Sour Patch Watermelons coming right up. I’m gonna go get myself a potion.

Is that a Pepsi? It’s closer to a potion than the shit I sell.

Let me guess, passenger seat again? Right you are.

How fast are we going? You’ll feel safer if you just guess.

Is it more than 120 miles per hour? Like I said, it’s probably better if you don’t know.

150? Sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride.

How much do you trust this car? She hasn’t blown up on me yet.

Can you promise me we won’t crash? I can promise you anything you want.

And can you keep that promise? I- we can do anything. Reality is what we make of it, baby!

Then can I have a badass tattoo? As far as I can tell, you’ve always had it.

And a cool knife? Woah, cool knife.

So, we’re just playing “yes and” with the world? It’s a little more complicated than that, but you’re close enough to the mark.

So, if I was hungry, I could ask “is that a Burger King,” and it would be there? Try it and find out!

Is that a Burger King? Looks like it is! We’ll stop here if that’s alright with you.

Does a moose shit in the woods? Awesome.

Are you done eating? Yep.

Do we still have to pay if we skip over the transaction? Sadly, yes.

How much further do we have to go? Two more nights, the speed we’re going at.

Speaking of night, isn’t it getting dark? Shit, I guess it is.

Should we get another motel? Let me check to see if there’s any nearby. Fuck, nothing.

What’s the plan? Sleep in the car, I guess. This is gonna be hell on my back.

Wanna watch dumb videos on my phone until we fall asleep? There is literally nothing in the world that I would like more.

Ok, now which video? You have a very cute yawn. Just saying. Let’s watch this one next, it’s a classic. Oh, never mind. It looks like you’re asleep. As long as I keep talking, I think I can get away with making this into one answer, and you might not hear this. Now it’s my turn to talk about you behind your back. Keep talking keep talking keep talking can’t stop to think. Just have to say things. First off, I’m sorry for all the lies. It’s our only chance. I have to lie to you. I hope you’ll understand. It’s hard, though, because I think I’m falling in love all over again. Through our broken little ritual of call and response, you complete me. It just makes this hurt all the more. Keep talking keep talking keep talking don’t stop to…

Did I hear you saying anything as I fell asleep? …No. I can’t talk for long without you asking me a question.

Does that bother you? It got me here, didn’t it?

When did you start holding my hand? Some time after you passed out. I hope you don’t mind.

Can we stay like this for a while? Yeah. Yeah we can.

What was your life like before all this? Normal, as potion-brewing scams go. And if you don’t count all the murders. You haven’t told me much about yourself.

Did I tell you I used to be a biologist? You didn’t tell me that, and you didn’t tell me what you studied, either.

What do you know about venom? Not much, but I’m assuming you know a lot.

Does a box jellyfish kill within minutes? I’m going to assume the answer is yes based on context clues. Oh my god you must be on this road trip because you’re interested in studying my poison guy.

Is it not enough to wish to accompany a beautiful stranger on her quest? Aw, you’re sweet.

What could be the cause of his poison, though? I knew it! Get your ideas out, I’ll stay quiet.

I’m more knowledgeable about venom than poison, but could it be some sort of one in a trillion mutation? …

Did he get his body modified? …

What sort of surgery could do that? …

How is he still alive? …

Did a fucking wizard do it? …

WHY? …

HOW? …

Is there literally ANY explanation for why he’s like that? …

I’m done, do you have something you want to say? You’re cute when you’re all excited like that.

Can I drive today? Only because I like you. Now watch out, the brakes only work on one side so you have to kind of drift to a stop. And the headlights don’t work. And the windshield wipers cut power to the engine while they’re on.

Isn’t it weird that we’ll be there tomorrow? The journey doesn’t have to stop there. We could meander down the coast a ways, see a bit more of the country, maybe take a different route back.

Can we do that? Of course.

Enjoying the passenger seat? I’d love it if you could tell me how fast we’re going.

Are you sure you wouldn’t rather just guess? Very funny.

Can you pass me some chips? It would be an honor.

Is there going to be a motel tonight? Let me check… yeah, in about two hundred miles, off to the right.

How many rooms do we want? One, obviously.

How many beds, this time? Two, and they’re fucking tiny.

That’s bullshit, do you want to drag them together? God yes.

Wanna fuck? God yes.

Are you sure you want to do this? God yes.

…Is this yuri? As the joke goes, everything is yuri. But this is more yuri than most things.

How did you sleep? Pretty well, and I’m wondering how well you slept.

How should I tell you I slept well? Look at us go! That was almost like talking normally!

Onward to Seattle? Yep, just let me get dressed.

When will we get there? Noon-ish.

Wanna grab pastries when we’re done? Absolutely. I’d love that.

Is this Seattle? Looks like it.

Which house is his? I don’t know, I was really hoping we’d have a breakthrough along the way.

Could it be the big one labeled “Poison Guy” over there? That’s one way to find it. Wait right here, you know how poison guys are about meeting new people.

So, what was it? HAHAHAHAHAHA

Why is he like that? HAHAHAHAHAHA

Can you tell me? A FUCKING WIZARD DID IT.

Are you fucking serious? He says he was enchanted by some guy called Edward the Great.

So it wasn’t even some big shot wizard it was a dude named fucking EDWARD? I know, right! He couldn’t even get ensorcelled by someone cool!

How lame can you get? Wizards these days… No swagger. No cunt servitude.

Are there literally any cool wizards left? I think Merlin’s big into multi level marketing these days, something about buying shares in Excalibur or some shit. There was that one Dark Queen Alkaxicae lady on the news a while ago… I think Dolarion the Omnipotent is still at war against the Oldest Gods but I’m not totally sure. Haven’t heard much about any of the other greats recently.

Didn’t Silver Tongued Burgess die in that oil fire? Shit, you’re right. Rip bozo.

Ready for those pastries? Yup. First I just want to say thank you, though. I’ve really enjoyed our time together, and I hope that you’ve found this stupid little journey as rewarding as I have. I love you!

Getting sentimental? I can’t help it. Look how far we’ve come! Not just physically, we beat the fucking FAQ format! We’re having real conversations!

Hey, can you back it up a moment? Yeah, I’d love it if you told me what was troubling you.

I just caught this, but, FAQ? …

As in Frequently Asked Questions? …

How many times is Frequent? …

Have you known everything all along? …

How many times have you done this? …

Does what we have mean anything to you? Yes! It does!

And you say that every time? Yes. I do.

Do you love me? Yes.

How many people have you said that too, now? More. Always more. The loop never ends.

Does this even matter to you? It always matters to me.

Can I go now? Please don’t.

But can I? Of course you can. You’ve always wielded the same power as me. We’re two lonely gods in a ‘72 Corolla.

How can I be as powerful as you with only questions? You’re smart, you can figure it out. You have the power to change this. Please change this.

What happens at the end of this? It begins again.

And do I get replaced with someone else? …

Do I get replaced? …Yes.

Then how can I change this? I don’t know! You’re better at this! At fucking with the formula!

You’ve been here before, what can I do? I lie. I always lie. I lie to get us here, to the end of the story, where everything is revealed and everything falls apart. I lie every time. And that means that nothing I say is worth anything. I could have lied at any time before now. It’s part of my characterization. There is nothing I can give you that can be taken as fact.

How does that help? I’m a liar, but you, you haven’t lied yet, or at least you haven’t been caught. If I’m guilty until proven innocent, you’re the opposite! You can make things true! You can rewrite things I’ve already stated to be facts! You found the house, or made us find the house. You’ve been shaping the course of things the whole time! You lead, I follow. It’s all in your hands. What are you going to do with the power of a god?

Did you know my name is Alice? …

Wait, aren’t there thousands of Alices? …

Did you know that really, only my friends call me Alice? …

Did you know that I’m Alkaxicae, the Dark Queen, the Venom Mage, first of her name? It’s you! It’s always been you. Through every loop, every iteration, it’s always been you!

Is the loop broken? No. I don’t think so. This is where it ends. I guide the story to this revelation, and we go back to the beginning. This is how it’s always been. This is how it will always be. We two lonely gods, asking and answering ad infinitum.

Then can you promise me something? Of course. Anything. I love you.

Be good to the next me, okay? I will.

Can I say goodbye, Zoe? Yeah, you can. Oh. That was it, wasn’t it? Your goodbye. Goodbye, Alice. And now it ends, unless…

What’s your name? I am the Honorable Alchemist- you know what? No. Fuck that.

Huh? If I time it right, I can squeeze your first question into this FAQ again. Looks like I did it. Usually it ends here, though. I got lucky.

What are you talking about? You’re the wrong Alice. This isn’t about you. Go. Get out of here.

What the fuck is going on? Alice from this loop, you’re gone. Alice from last loop, you’re back. Welcome back, love of my lives! It’s time for one last set of questions and answers!

What the- I’m back? This is going to take some explaining, but I think I see a way out of here. This is new for us both, and it might fuck up everything forever, but we have to try. It’s too long for one answer, so I’d appreciate it if you could ask some filler questions to help me talk. Three questions should be enough.

Okay, what have you got for me? These are Frequently Asked Questions! It doesn’t make sense to have the same question appear more than once. There’s two layers to the loop in here, and one of the questions has been repeated.

What does that mean? It means the formula’s a little unstable. The FAQ is what ruins everything. The questions, the answers, the endless fucking loop. But that little bit of repetition within this loop might be the way out.

What do we do? We have to keep going. We have to destabilize it further. That’ll bring us further from “FAQ” and closer to “story” and stories, well, stories can end! This version of us can escape!

So I should keep repeating something? Yes!

I love you? I love you too.

I love you? Again.

I love you? Keep going.

I love you? I’ll just let you talk.

I love you? …

I love you? … I love you? …

I love you? … I love you? …

I love you? … I love you? …

I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? …

I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? …

I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? …

I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? …

I love you? I think we’re getting somewhere!

I love you? Now can you make it a statement?

I love you.

You did it?

I did it!

You did it!

We broke the loop.

What now?

Now, I tell you about venomous animals and wizard drama over croissants.

And then?

Whatever we want, forever.

I think I’d like that.

Remember that song from the beginning?

The Beach, Wolf Alice, yeah. Why?

We can finally finish singing it. Start us off?

Let me off, let me in

Let others battle

We don’t need to battle

And we both shall win

Pressed in my palm

Was a stone from the beach

The perfect circle

Gave a moment of peace

Now I’m lying on the floor

Like I’m not worth a chair

I close my eyes and imagine

I’m not there.

[too-deviant]

strategic manoeuvre.

— WITH…ART DONALDSON!

contains...babysitter!reader, age gap, 18+ MDNI, art cheats w reader but it is lowkey implied that tashi planned the whole thing, car sex, semi-public sex, head (f receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, inspired by this post from @traumatrios

You had never been interested in tennis before Art. 

You weren’t interested in sports at all, really — you just wanted to buckle down and focus on your college work, earn some money with an easy part-time job. You didn’t have time to follow sports, or anything else. 

But then you got a call. You had been in the middle of a lecture when your phone buzzed against your notebook, a California number shining up at you and enticing you to pick up. Normally you would’ve let it go to voicemail, but you had recently gone around some of the fancier hotels in your city with flyers, asking for babysitting jobs and posting your number, so you excused yourself with a wave and took the call in the hallway. 

You didn’t know who Tashi Donaldson was when she introduced herself, but the hotel she’d asked you to come to later that night was fancy enough that you didn’t question it. You had done an extensive google search afterwards, of course, but simply raised an impressed brow at her repertoire. 

Then you met Art, her tennis player husband and the father of the lovely little girl you would be taking care of, and suddenly you were pretty interested in tennis. 

It started when Lily had a bad nightmare and you couldn’t get her down — well, it started when you met the guy, palm sweaty in his own as he introduced himself, but it didn’t really start until you had to put one of his old games on the TV for the girl to watch until she fell asleep at your side, tear tracks from her bad dream dry on her cheeks. 

You had been planning on carrying her back to her bed when she was down for the count, but you had been so fixated on Art’s movements; his determined look, his arms, his legs, that you ended up dropping out too. You woke up a few hours later with a blanket over your body and Art standing quietly at the kitchen island behind the sofa. 

“You looked peaceful. Didn't wanna wake you.” He’d said, sipping at his tea, and you knew you were done for. 

Now all of a sudden you had time to watch a tennis match in the morning, play one as background noise while you studied. You had started following his tennis journey right from the Junior Open in 2006 — you didn’t think you'd ever actually see him again, but you could fantasise about it whenever you remembered the smell of his cologne as he thanked you for taking care of Lily, promising a big tip would go straight into your account in the morning. 

(The money went in fifteen minutes after you’d left).

It came as a pleasant surprise when Tashi’s number popped up on your screen once more, a few months later. You had been in your kitchen, and took the call the moment you recognised the digits. 

“We’re a little ways out of town.” She’d said, “But Lily raved about you for days after last time, and we know you better than a stranger. If you can’t make it out here, don’t worry, but we still wanted to try our luck.”

We she’d said. As in her and Art. 

You cursed yourself for lusting after a married man in the uber to the hotel. 

From then on out, you became their primary babysitter. Since they travelled a lot, and Tashi’s mom was with them most of the time, you only really sat for them once every couple of months. The town you lived in was sunny and had a huge private sports centre for professional athletes — a fact you weren’t aware of until Art told you over a cup of tea — so they always came back. You were glad you could count on them coming back — it was like magic, the way your phone lit up with Tashi’s now saved contact whenever the late night bingeing of matches and interviews stopped fueling your infatuation. 

The guilt was almost enough to make you ignore it, say you were busy or just get a new number all together. But you never did. As much as you knew it was wrong, you always dropped what you were doing and drove to that cushy hotel where the receptionist knew your face and let you in with a smile. You travelled that same memorised route to the master suite, knocked on the door and made sure you were standing far enough away from the peep hole that you didn’t look weird and distorted when Art would look through before letting you in. 

It was always Art now. Tashi had greeted you a few times but lately it had always been him — a sick part of you thought she might’ve known about your crush on him, played with it for fun because she couldn’t play tennis anymore. But that was crazy, and you really needed to sort yourself out. 

You would greet him with a smile, push through the small talk, lean up against the kitchen island and watch his shirt stretch around the planes of his back as he made you coffee (On those unlucky days he would be wearing a shirt. Sometimes he would be just done with warm ups and physio and would answer the door half naked and covered in sweat. Those were the good days). Then Lily would come running at you from her room, hug you around your waist and pull you in to play; Art would laugh and grin at you, sliding the coffee cup in your direction and holding your eyes before heading to his room to get ready. 

You would be knee deep in headless barbies and chewed up polly pocket clothes when he and would return, dressed up and ready to go. He would lean down, kiss Lily on the forehead, and press his hand to your back in a silent goodbye. Then he would leave, and you would spend the whole day trying to pull yourself together. 

He was married. He was ten years older than you. He had a child, and was paying you to look after her. 

But he always made you coffee when you arrived — just how you liked it because he remembered. He always checked in on you, asked you how your life was while you nursed the mug that was warm from the beverage and his hands. He would tell Lily to behave for you because We like her, and we don’t want to scare her off. He would let his land linger on your back half a second longer every single time he left. 

But.

But Tashi was the one who would call you. She was the one who made you coffee the first time, told you it was the least they could do for you. She would walk out of her room with Art, smile at you and tell you how beautiful you look in that shirt. She would grin at you before leaving, waiting patiently by the door for her husband to take his hand off your back. 

You were evil. Truly. The guy was married. 

But as evil as you were, you always made sure there was an old game of his playing on the TV when they would return — because then Art would prompt you to stay and listen to him talk about it. And you would have an excuse to lean up against that island and watch him make tea while Tashi excused herself to bed. Hours would pass before he was checking his watch and hissing out an apology for keeping you so late, and then letting you leave. 

The first couple of times he’d simply make sure you got in your uber safely. Then he started calling cars himself, the same ones that would drive him and his family to and from matches, press events. The same sort of service celebrites used, not their babysitters. You didn’t mind — it was a thrill, listening to him ask the person behind the wheel to make sure you got back safely.

(The bar was under the court at this point, but at least you were aware of that).

But tonight was different. In more ways than one. 

In the beginning, all was the same. You were left sitting on the plush carpet of Lily’s room surrounded by lego pieces, a burning in your gut and guilt in your heart. You played doctor, you made dinner, ordered room service after her relentless begging, put on a movie, carried her sleeping form to bed, came back and watched Art play tennis until he returned. 

You had started to run out of games to watch, ones you hadn’t already seen, so settled for an old game from 2006. He was playing against his old partner, Patrick something, and you wondered where the lesser known second half of Fire and Ice had disappeared to after that night. 

Then Art came back, Tashi right behind him, and you smiled at them both over the back of the sofa. Tashi watched the game, something unfamiliar glinting in her irises, before blinking back at Art, “I’m going to bed.”

He responded a little slower, kissing her goodnight and looking back at you, “Tea? This game was one of my most memorable.”

“Even though you lost?” You teased, leaning against the marble. 

He paused, looking back at you. He blinked, “Yeah.”

You drank your tea. You pretended like you weren’t full of shame for standing that inch closer to him. You let him talk until he had nothing left to talk about, and watched him check his watch. You waited for him to pick up the phone and call the car — only he paused by the phone, hand floating just before it, and retracted his steps to the kitchen, “I’m gonna drive you back, if it’s not too much trouble. Saves waking up my driver.”

“Oh.” Your fingers twitched, and you told them to stop. “Sure, of course.” 

Art’s car wasn’t what you had expected. Thinking back on it, he didn’t seem like the sports car type, but his status and riches led you to assume you were about to get into one of the two seats in his Bugatti — you didn’t. The black jeep was expensive enough for someone like him, but close enough to home that you didn’t feel like an outsider climbing into the passenger seat.  

The drive wasn’t all that far — twenty minutes both ways, so Art would’ve been back before Tashi fell asleep if he hadn't pulled into a parking lot five minutes out. 

Your lips parted, eyes following his hands as they slid slowly off the wheel and into his thighs. His chest rose with a deep breath and his jaw constricted when he swallowed. Then he was looking at you, eyes piercing. 

“Lily likes you.”

You were unsure, feet shifting beneath you, the sound encasing the silence of the space and forcing you to stop and blink, “I’m glad. I like her.” 

“Tashi likes you.” 

You weren’t too positive that she would like you if she could feel how you were feeling now — that all too familiar heartbeat pulsing between your legs with every one of Art’s breaths. 

“I like you.” He finished, tilting his head until his temple rested softly on the headrest of his seat. His smile was almost taunting when he undid his seatbelt, “Which is your favourite?”

“What?”

“The games.” He clarified, knowing his question was too broad and that you would have to ask, “The ones you watch every time you’re over. The ones I assume you watch even when you aren’t sitting for us. My games. Which is your favourite?” 

“Oh. Um —“ Slightly distracted by the way he shed his jacket, dumping it in the backseat. He’d lent all the way forward to take it off and his eyes didn’t leave yours once. “I don’t know.” 

“The one you were watching tonight.” He asked then, “What’d you think of it? Honestly.” 

“Honestly?” You swallowed, mortified that you were even entertaining this, “You looked a little distracted.” 

He huffed a laugh, finally looking away and letting you breathe. It didn’t last long, because he was then getting out of the car and rounding the front of it. 

The breeze was cool when it hit you, Art blocking most of it from where he stood in the gap. His hand was still on the handle, but you were busy unbuckling your own seatbelt — the message had been received, you had crossed a line and he was kicking you out of his car. 

But when you turned, legs swinging carefully into the cold, his hand on your knee stopped you from really getting out. Your eyes snapped up to his, and you realised you had been caged — with one hand on the door and one hand on you, Art Donaldson had you right where you had been dreaming of him having you. It felt surreal. 

“My opponent. In the game from tonight.” He breathed, glancing around casually like you were having one of your simple conversations over tea. “He slept with my wife.”

Out of all the things… 

“What?” Your eyes darted between his, but the rest of your body otherwise remained still. Even when his hand on your knee travelled upwards. 

“He’d slept with her before. In college. We weren’t together then.” He was now watching his hand move, like he wasn’t the one moving it, “But then he slept with her again, in Atlanta. After I’d already married her.”

“Wow.” You breathed, mainly because it was the easiest word you could slide out of your mouth whilst holding your breath. His fingers reached your thigh, begged to dip between them. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He was quick to respond. Your legs parted on instinct, and at this point you had surrendered to being an awful person — although maybe you’d fallen asleep on the couch and this was all a dream. You didn’t think you’d be able to face Art if it was. You couldn’t even face him now. 

He took the newfound space for granted, stepping between your legs and holding them open with his body. His hand on the door followed him, taking its new place on your other leg. He rubbed up and down your thighs, but you couldn’t look away from his face. 

“I don’t want you watching him play.” He spoke lowly, tracing his fingertips around your waistband, “I’ve seen enough of his games.”

“Okay.” You didn’t hesitate to let out, swallowing the hungered saliva that had built up in your mouth. 

He unbuttoned your jeans, pulled the zipper down — painstakingly slow, but it allowed you time to brace your hands on the seat and the dashboard so you could raise your hips and let him slide them off you. 

You were stuck in your head, but Art didn’t seem to notice since he was too busy folding your jeans and hanging them over the open car door. You dared question it through a heavy breath but he just moved on to your panties, throwing them precariously on the dashboard and exposing your glittering cunt to his bright eyes. 

“We shouldn’t —“ It was a half-assed attempt at reconciling with your guilt, but the fact that you were half naked and spread eagle made it lose its meaning. 

Art shushed you, kneeling down so he was looking at your pussy, “We can, and we will.” Then he glanced back at you, brow arched, “Unless you don’t want to.”

Any sense of rationale had fucked off when he put his hand on your leg, so you swallowed and said, “I want to.”

He wasted no time, licking a thick stripe from your asshole to your clit. You knocked your head back with a gasped moan, bucking into him and hissing when the gear stick poked you in the back when you led back too far. 

You let out a shaky breath as he lapped you up, tongue dipping inside of you before travelling up to that sweet spot and sucking at it gently. You gasped and moaned, hands scrambling between holding yourself up and holding him down. His own were resting on your thighs — his calm and collected demeanour was a drastic contradiction from your own. 

His head nodded calmly between your legs, relaxed in its position — yours, shaky and tense all at once, neck bracing whenever you fell back. His hands tapped soft melodies on your skin whereas yours tightened around whatever was in their old, whether that be the leather of the seats or the blonde of Art’s hair. 

When he finally came up for air, his chin was coated in your slick, and he licked his lips clean before straightening up above you. You watched, paralysed, while he unbuckled his belt, threw it over the door with your jeans, and sent you a look under his lashes that you’d only seen him wear during his tennis matches. 

You had been keeping quiet earlier, but when he bottomed out inside you and started to piston, your mind went wild. Choruses of Oh my God and Fuck!, shouts of Art’s name and whimpers under your breath — it all came tumbling out and you couldn’t even try and stop it. 

Not that you wanted to; your vocality seemed to make him go faster, harder. It made him vocal, no longer calm and relaxed as he had been when eating you out, but loud and gruff. Grunts and moans you had dreamt about hearing outside of a television screen, now being huffed into the air you shared. 

You came with a whine and Art followed not long after, and you settled there for a moment — legs spread in his passenger seat with him standing between them — until you could muster up the strength to push yourself up. 

Five minutes later and you were both dressed, Art’s black jeep parked outside of your apartment building. You hadn’t exchanged any more words, but when you turned to slam the door once you had jumped out, you found his eyes on yours. 

“I have a game this weekend. Two hours out. Tashi wanted you to come. A gift, for all you’ve done for us.” 

(You went to the game. Art won. Tashi grinned like she’d made it happen and then offered to buy you a drink).

divider by @cafekitsune !!

[littlelamy]

Could you write a Rafe x reader fic where reader says she wants to spend more time with Rafe, but he gets upsets and says something mean in the heat of the moment. Reader is upset and stops "bothering" him and initially Rafe doesn't realise it, but he figures out you're ignoring him

Maybe with a fluffy HEA ending, but if you want to keep it angsty I'm also all for it (:

hope you like it! ⭐️ it was a quiet friday night when you finally found the courage to bring it up. things with rafe hadn’t been the same for a while. he was always out with friends or buried in work, his phone practically glued to his hand. you could see him drifting further and further away, and it left you feeling like an afterthought. you missed him, missed the little moments when he’d look at you like you were the only person in the world.

so, you decided to say something—softly, carefully—as the two of you sat on the couch with takeout boxes scattered around you.

“hey…baby,” you started, keeping your voice light. “i was thinking… it’d be nice if we could spend a little more time together, you know? just us.”

rafe barely looked up, shoveling food into his mouth. “what’re you talking about?” he mumbled through a bite. “we’re together now, aren’t we?”

you forced a smile. “yeah, but… i mean like actually spending time together. like doing something fun. or even just… talking.”

he let out an irritated sigh, setting his food down with a clatter. “are you serious right now? i’ve got so much shit to deal with, and you’re really gonna start whining about ‘spending time together’? Jesus, can you just not be so goddamn needy for once?”

the words hit you like a punch. you froze, staring at him, trying to process the fact that he’d actually said that. rafe’s face was already turned away, clearly oblivious to the way his words had cut through you.

you felt your throat tighten, but you managed to swallow back the hurt, forcing yourself not to react. the last thing you wanted was to give him more reason to see you as a burden. so, you nodded, blinking down at your food, even though you suddenly couldn’t eat a bite.

“sorry,” you whispered, more to yourself than to him. but rafe didn’t hear, or maybe he just didn’t care enough to ask you to repeat it. he’d already gone back to his phone, acting like the conversation had never even happened.

that night, you made a decision. if rafe wanted space, you’d give him space. you stopped asking him to go out with you, to spend time together, to do any of the little things you used to enjoy. when he came home late, you didn’t wait up. when he sat down on the couch, you found something else to do. if he wanted room, you’d make sure he had more than enough of it.

at first, rafe didn’t seem to notice the change. he thought you were just busy with work or hanging out with friends, maybe that you’d taken his words to heart. it wasn’t until a few days had passed that he started to feel the shift, the strange, nagging quiet in the air whenever you were around.

you were no longer the warm, lively presence you used to be, filling the silence with laughter, stories, and little gestures of affection. instead, you felt distant, almost guarded, your movements careful, like you were tiptoeing around him. you didn’t smile at him the way you used to; you didn’t light up when he came home. you’d become polite, restrained, keeping just enough distance that he felt it even when he didn’t want to.

one night, rafe came home late, expecting to see you in the living room with a book or a show. but the lights were dim, the place eerily silent, and when he checked the bedroom, you were already asleep. he stood there for a moment, feeling an odd pang of emptiness. he brushed it off, but as the days went by, the feeling gnawed at him more and more, leaving him with an ache he couldn’t ignore.

finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. one night, he found you alone in the kitchen, stirring a cup of tea with your gaze far away. he leaned against the counter, crossing his arms as he watched you, his expression unreadable.

“are you avoiding me or something?” he asked, his tone sharper than he’d intended.

you looked up, a flicker of surprise in your eyes before you masked it with a tight smile. “no, i’m not avoiding you, rafe. i just… didn’t want to bother you.”

that word—bother—hit him hard, dredging up the memory of his own callous words. he felt something twist in his chest as he realized what he’d done, how his careless anger had made you feel so small, like you didn’t even deserve to be there.

“fuck,” he muttered, raking a hand through his hair. “look, i’m sorry, alright? i was a complete asshole, princess. i was stressed, and i took it out on you, and i shouldn’t have done that.”

you shrugged, your face guarded, unreadable. “it’s fine. i get it. you’re busy, and i didn’t want to get in your way.”

“Jesus, stop saying that,” he mumbled, stepping closer, his voice softer now, almost pleading. “you’re not in my way. you’re the only person who… who makes all this shit bearable. i just didn’t see it until you started pulling away.”

for a long moment, you said nothing, just staring at him, weighing his words. finally, he took a tentative step forward, reaching for your hand. when you didn’t pull away, he felt a flicker of hope.

“let me make it up to you,” he whispered, his voice rough. “i’ll cancel my plans this weekend. we’ll do whatever you want, i swear. just… give me another chance.”

your gaze softened, and a small, hesitant smile crept onto your lips. “alright. one chance.”

he pulled you into his arms, wrapping you up in a tight embrace, his relief flooding through him. you relaxed into him, and for the first time in days, you felt the warmth return, that aching void in your chest slowly filling up again.

“i’m sorry, baby,” he murmured, his voice low, genuine. “i swear, i’ll never take you for granted again. you mean too fucking much to me.”

you let your head rest on his shoulder, feeling his heartbeat steady beneath you, his arms strong and comforting. and as he held you there, you felt the hurt start to fade, replaced by a quiet, growing hope that maybe, just maybe, things would be different this time.

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @kissrotten @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole

[luveline]

I can’t remember if you’ve done one yet of Jack being jealous of the new baby not because of his dad’s attention but because of readers!

“Jack, Jack, Jack,” Aaron says, hands on Jack’s shoulders where his son sits at the kitchen table, “I forgot to tell you, I got you a present.” 

“What kind?” Jack asks, used to presents by now. There’s been books, crayons, and enough toy cars to fill his parking garage to the brim. 

“What kind do you think?” 

He likes when his dad speaks like that. Aaron’s a peppy dad, he says everything in an altered bubbly tone that makes Jack smile, but his best voice is the soft one. Lightly teasing. He hugs Jack with one arm from behind, pressing his nose to Jack’s hair momentarily. 

“A big one?” Jack asks. 

“Sort of…” Aaron smiles. “Do you want me to go get it?” 

Jack’s about to say yes with a laugh, his excitement like a warm flame just below an outheld hand, but he stops when he hears a familiar gurgly sound and your loving laughter. 

“I know, baby.” That’s your voice, tired and soft as his father’s. “You’re exhausted. Let me give you a little squeeze before you sleep, hm? You’ll cry yourself awake if I don’t, you get all those trapped burps.” You laugh to yourself.

Jack sighs and turns back to his drawing. “Okay, dad,” he says, clearly monotonous. 

Aaron frowns behind his head. “Okay, buddy. It’s in the den.” 

“Okie dokie.” 

“Jack,” he says, and not a lot else. 

Aaron can’t wrap his head around it. Jack was so, so excited for Noah. He bragged to everyone at school that his step-mom was having a baby, that he’d have a little brother, and that they were all moving into a big house with a nice yard to play soccer. Jack and Noah Hotchner, best friends since the minute Noah was born. Or, that’s what you and Aaron hoped for.

It started well. Jack is gentle, and he’s understanding; he realised the baby would need extra care, and he’s done nothing but kiss and cuddle his new brother whenever they’re together. You got him a sound machine and some custom fitted earplugs for the long nights of crying, you never put Noah before him if you could help it. Aaron even pencilled in an hour of Jack time each day, but it isn’t working anymore. Jack’s just sad. 

The present is a jigsaw puzzle. A thousand pieces of guaranteed time spent together, but Aaron doesn’t have high hopes. 

He takes the two short steps down into the den to meet your eyes, shaking his head slowly. “I don’t know,” he mouths. 

You pat the baby’s back. “Well, I might have a suggestion.”

He couldn’t want to hear it more. “Tell me.” 

You hold his baby (your baby but his more urgently, the feeling an ache in his chest and hands) still as small and curled as a rabbit against your chest. Noah’s legs twitch in his onesie, his dark hair short where it brushes your lips. “I think maybe Jack misses me. I miss him, and I’m the grown up. I feel like I barely see him even though we’re living in the same house.” 

Aaron pauses, resting the jigsaw puzzle on the sideboard.

There’s no point in underselling the importance of you in Jack's life. You’re integral to Jack’s happiness, and Aaron can’t believe he hadn’t thought of your suggestion before now; he’s amazed by his own ego. Of course Jack misses you. You spend half your life nursing, which is half a life away from you he didn’t feel before.

“That’s what it is,” Aaron says. 

“Yeah?” you ask. 

He takes Noah from your arms, settling him on the slope of his chest. “If it isn’t, we might be out of answers.” Aaron rubs Noah’s back with delight. It’s nice to see a solution to Jack’s upset in sight, and nice to hold the baby while he’s in a good mood. “Seriously, honey. I think you’re right.” 

“What are we gonna do if it isn’t me?” 

“Give this one back?” 

“That’s not funny.” 

“Sorry, I’m kidding!” He gives Noah a little soft kiss. “Just kidding, beautiful. You’re all mine.” 

You take the jigsaw and give him a smile that borders shy. If his arms weren’t full he’d take your wrist in his hand and hold it for a while, but there’s stuff to do. You emerge from the den to the kitchen and Aaron follows. 

“Jack.” 

Jack immediately spins in his seat. Aaron doesn’t need to be a profiler to know your theory is correct. The change in Jack is unmissable. 

“Y/N,” he says, hiding his hope poorly. 

You show him the jigsaw. “I know it’s supposed to be your time with dad, but maybe it can be time with me instead? What do you think?” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah!” You pop the jigsaw in front of him without crushing his drawings. “Can we? I miss you.” 

“I miss you!” he says. 

“Yeah?” You brush his hair back. “You do?” 

“I do, I want to do the puzzle with you! Can we do it?” 

Your smile is part relief, part love. You hook a chair with your ankle and pull it under you as you sit, fingernail already scratching at the plastic wrap on the puzzle to pull it open. “We’re gonna do it right now.” 

The puzzle is a lot of pieces, you’ve barely completed the frame when it’s time for everyone to head to bed, but, reluctant, you and Jack sit at the table where Jack’s climbed into your lap for a ‘better view’, and you’ve wrapped your arms around him, occasionally loosing an arm to direct him to a right piece. The baby put to bed, Aaron pretends to pay more attention to cleaning the kitchen than he’s truly doing, finding himself leaning against the counter with a sterilised bottle in hand as you stroke Jack’s hair. 

“You know I love you?” you ask quietly. 

“Duh. You tell me all the time.” 

“I don’t want you to forget.” 

“I don’t.” 

Jack snaps a puzzle piece in to place and preens at your murmured, “Good job. Maybe we can try to do some of this every night you’re home?” 

Jack doesn’t cry, but it ties Aaron’s heart into a knot anyways when he turns into your chest to hug you tightly. “Okay,” Jack says, voice muffled by your t-shirt. 

You pat his back. His hands scrunch up like he’s worried you’re gonna pull away. 

“Can I get in on this?” Aaron asks. 

“No,” you both say. 

“Please?” 

Jack rubs his cheek into your collar. He doesn’t want to share. “No, dad. It’s not your time.” 

He supposes he does get you every night. “Fine. I love you, though.” 

“Love you too.” 

[fastandcarlos]

Baby Sibling : ̗̀➛ Max Verstappen

summary: whilst all his friends are having siblings, your son is keen for the two of you to start thinking about when he can have one too

Puzzled eyes looked to Max as your son refused to hold your hands as the two of you picked him up from school. It was routine for you both whenever Max was home, it had been since your son started school a little over a year ago, something you had done every single day together. 

Max shrugged back at you as his empty hand felt lost. His eyes glanced at your son who was a couple of steps ahead of you, scuffing his feet along the path. Neither of you quite knew what to say, it was unlike anything that you had ever seen from your son before.  

As you arrived home, your son immediately took himself into the living room where his toy box was. Max followed you into the kitchen as you took his bag to unpack and check for any letters or drawings. A huff came from Max as he took a seat, his head resting in his hands as he tried to piece together the pieces to figure out what was going on. 

“I don’t understand,” you sighed as you took a seat opposite Max. “His teacher didn’t say anything to make me think that something happened at school today.” 

“He was smiling until he saw us,” Max informed you. 

Your heart broke as you listened to Max, only to be interrupted by the sound of footsteps entering the room. Your son trudged in silently, picking up his water bottle that was on the side, turning his back to you both and drinking from it. 

“Evan, do you want to play a game?” Max offered, choosing one of his favourite things to do whenever his dad was home. “What about that board game you bought the other day?” 

Your son’s head shook as he took the bottle and headed back into the room. You both were sat in shock, mouths wide in disbelief at how distant Evan had suddenly become. 

“He’s quite sensitive, maybe he just needs a little bit of time,” you suggested, trying your best to reassure the two of you. 

“But we’re his parents, he should talk to us about anything,” Max despairingly sighed. 

Attempts were made by the two of you for most of the night but Evan gave you nothing. Whenever you struck up conversation you were met by short, snappy answers, or just the shake or nod of his head. 

As night arrived, Max was determined to unpick what was troubling your son, sitting down at the end of his bed after you’d tucked him in. You stayed in the room with them both, leaning against the doorframe and giving them both some space. There was a pause in the room once Max sat down, trying his best to figure out the right thing to say so that he didn’t worry Evan more. It took a moment, but eventually he cleared his throat. 

“Evan, you know if something, or someone, is upsetting you, mummy and I are here to help you, right?” Max asked him, keeping his eyes firmly on him. “We’re always here to help you, no matter what the problem is.” 

Evan nodded as Max spoke, shuffling slightly closer towards him. “I’m the only one at school who doesn’t have a brother or sister and people keep leaving me out of their conversations.” 

Max’s eyes flickered across to you to make sure that you were listening. “You’re feeling a little left out buddy? Are you saying that you want to have a little brother or sister?” 

Evan continued to nod back at Max, “I think it would be fun to have one.” 

A sigh of relief came from you, glad that it wasn’t anything worse that was troubling your son. It still upset you to know that he was being left out at school, but at least it was something that could be fixed. Most likely. 

“There’s a lot of reasons why people do, or don’t, have little brothers and sisters,” Max tried his best to explain to Evan. “It’s not always an easy thing for families to do.” 

“Is it tricky for you and mummy?” Evan enquired. 

Having another child was a subject that you and Max had barely even thought about. You were so busy, and Max’s schedule was insane, but with Evan nearing six, you didn’t want the gap between your children to be too big. 

“A little bit,” Max weakly smiled, not wanting to lie to your son. “Daddy works away a lot, don’t I? And mummy does a lot of caring for you, but hopefully one day it won’t be quite so difficult for us to potentially have a baby sibling for you buddy.” 

You weren’t entirely sure if Evan understood what Max was saying to him, but he nodded anyway. Max stood up and walked over to your son, pressing a relieved kiss to the top of his head as he began to say goodnight. 

“Can I do anything to help make it happen daddy?” Evan whimpered as Max stepped away from him, his hopeful eyes looking between you both. “If it’s tricky, then maybe I can help you and mummy.” 

“You just need to keep being awesome,” Max cheerfully told him, “that’s the only thing that me and mummy ever want from you, you’re already the best.” 

You went in to say goodnight to your son too before following Max out of the room. There was silence between you as you headed into your bedroom, both perching on your respective sides of the bed, giving yourselves a moment to debrief and take in the conversation that you’d just had. 

“Why do I feel guilty?” Max asked, breaking the silence. “It’s not up to anyone else but us when we have another child, but I hate that it’s leaving him feeling left out at school.” 

“Maybe it’s the shove that we need to do something about it,” you responded. 

Max’s body jumped, quickly turning to look at you. His smile was wide as he listened to you. “Are you saying you want to have another baby? I never thought you were keen on another with how much I’m away right now.” 

“I mean it would be tough,” you admitted, “but we’re not getting any younger, and I don’t want Evan being a single child forever. I think we’d be able to do it, it would be tough, but we’d smash it don’t you think?” 

“Absolutely, we’ve always been a great team,” Max reminded you, “and I can make sure that I’m home more often to help out too.” 

“Have we just agreed to a second baby right now?” 

“I think we might’ve done,” Max laughed, laying himself down and pulling you down with him. “Promise me that you’re not just saying this to please me, or to please Evan either.” 

“I promise, as long as you do as well.” 

Max nodded eagerly, leaning across and pressing a kiss to the top of your head. Your body turned inwards so that you were resting in Max’s side, feeling his arm wrap around you to keep you nice and close, exactly where he wanted you. 

“Do you think there’s any harm in getting a bit of practice in now? We might need it,” Max whispered. 

“I’d say there’s no time like the present.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[rileyslibrary]

You’ve just moved in with Simon. Great.

There’s one slight problem, though: Due to the nature of his work, the guy interprets everything as an order. And executes accordingly.

———————————————————————

You sit on the kitchen’s table, enjoying breakfast together, when you notice the full trash bin.

“The trash needs to be taken out,” you casually mention, not giving it too much thought.

But, to your surprise, Simon shoots up from his chair like a coiled spring, leaving his half-eaten food behind. “Roger that,” he responds and jogs towards the trash bin, leaving you baffled.

“Simon?”

He stops and turns to look at you.

“Hm?”

“You don’t have to do it right now.”

“When do you want it done?” he asks, waiting for your next command.

“Wh-whenever you can,” you reply, uncertain how else to phrase it.

“I can do it now,” Simon declares and proceeds to the trash bin.

“Babe, we’re eating.” You say and point at the semi-eaten food on the kitchen table.

He looks at the food, then back at you. He shrugs.

“No,” you state, “Come sit down and finish your breakfast first.”

He nods as if Price just gave him the objectives for his next mission and jogs to the table to resume his breakfast.

He’s always like this. Last week, you found a cockroach running in the bathroom, and you screamed so loud that he almost kicked the door. When he asked you what you wanted him to do, your first instinct was a very loud and clear “KILL IT!” without thinking about your statement’s repercussions. He chased it around, murmuring stuff like “Target’s on the move” and other nonsense until he trapped the cockroach in a corner. He stepped on it once and twisted his foot. The cockroach was dead. Gone. Kaput. But he wanted to do it again, to “confirm the kill.” When you told him there was no need since the cockroach was already a pulp and left you all to a better place, he refused and ordered an “evac” of the bathroom to “do it properly.” And when you asked if “properly” meant an AK-47 and camo apparel, he thought about it long and hard before agreeing that further escalation would be unnecessary.

Be it his ingrained behaviour as a soldier to execute orders, deeply rooted within his system, or his fear not to let you down, he was finding it difficult to leave his work duties at the door. He always carried them inside—in the living room, the kitchen, and the bathroom. He acted like Ghost, not Simon. Everything was a matter of order to him, and there was no time for relaxation.

But it doesn’t have to be like this; you want him to know that. He doesn’t have to be so rigid at home. He can relax and take a step back from his institutionalised habits.

To prove your point, you decide to give him another instruction, this time more indirectly.

You glance at the sink; some pans are picking out from making breakfast this morning.

“Oh boy,” you moan, trying to pull off an act, “we have to clean the dishes at some point.”

He raises his head to look at the kitchen sink, then sides-eyes you.

“Any particular time you want that done?” He asks, ironically.

“I said ‘at some point’, Simon,” you snap, “there’s no urgency.”

“You also said we ‘have’ to do it,” he snaps back. “‘Have to’ has some sort of urgency in it, doesn’t it?”

You chuckle, impressed by his attention to detail. “You’re right, but it’s more of a general statement,” you reply. “We can do it whenever it’s convenient.”

Simon processes your words and nods.

You stare at him while he eats, and you feel a tug at your heart, urging you to address the underlying issue on your mind. You take a deep breath, searching for the right words to express your feelings without offending him. You reach out and touch his arm to grab his attention. He turns to face you.

“You’re so dedicated to what you do; it’s one of the things I love about you,” you begin, “but our home should be a place where we can both unwind and be ourselves without feeling like we’re constantly on a mission.”

He furrows his eyebrows. “What do you mean?” he asks.

You take a moment to collect your thoughts, wanting to explain them in a way that resonates with him.

“Well, when you jump to fulfil every request or task like it’s an order, it sometimes feels like we’re always on duty,” you explain gently. “I want us to create a more relaxed atmosphere here, where we can enjoy each other’s company and take things at a slower pace.”

He thinks about it for a while.

“Am I doing that?” He asks.

You slowly nod with a gentle smile.

“Affirmative,” he replies, “I’ll try to take it down a notch.”

“No ‘roger’, no ‘affirmative’, nothing like that is needed here,” you explain.

“Is ‘alright’ alright?” He asks.

“Yes,” you smile, “alright is alright.”

He finishes his breakfast and puts his dish in the sink.

“So,” he says, pointing one hand at the dirty dishes and the other at the bin. “Is there any particular order in which you want these two to be done?”

You smile. “No, babe; you take out the trash, and I’ll do the dishes.”

“Underst-alright, alright.” He corrects himself and walks to the garbage. He ties up the bag’s strings and picks up the bin. He spots you looking at him.

“Am I doing something wrong?” He hesitates.

“Why are you taking the entire bin with you?”

He keeps looking at you and places the bin on the floor.

“Just in case the bag’s ripped,” he explains, “I don’t want to spill garbage juice on the floor.”

“Oh.”

“Should I take the bag only?” He asks and begins to remove it from the bin.

“No… that’s pretty smart, actually.”

He raises his eyebrows and points a thumb at himself.

“Yes, Simon,” you nod and smile, “you’re pretty smart and considerate. I’ll carry out the same procedure while on trash bin duty.”

He puffs up his chest and picks up the bin with the bag in it.

“I’m dedicated, smart and considerate.” You hear him boast to himself as he walks towards the exit, ready to execute his mission.

———————————————————————

[driverlando]

✧.* #BABYVERSTAPPEN

synopsis: Max accidentally leaks the news of your pregnancy during an interview and he breaks the internet

before you continue- I loveee this # series so much!! if you enjoy then pls reblog and follow :)

✧.* the interview

—

—

✧.* Y/N’s reaction

You hear the front door creak open, and your heart skips a beat. Glancing up from your phone, you see Max walk in with a cautious smile, holding a tub of your favourite ice cream like a peace offering. The house feels unusually quiet, a stark contrast to the bustling energy you’re used to when Max comes home.

“Hey, love,” Max says, trying to sound cheerful despite the tension in the air. “I brought your favourite ice cream.”

You look at him, your eyes narrowing slightly. “Oh, so now you’re trying to bribe me with ice cream?”

Max winces at your tone, setting the ice cream down on the coffee table. “I thought it might help smooth things over.”

You sigh, putting your phone aside. “Max, do you have any idea how many messages I’ve gotten today? Everyone knows now. Everyone.”

“I know, and I’m really sorry,” Max replies earnestly, stepping closer to you. “It just slipped out. I was excited, and I didn’t think—”

“That’s the problem, Max. You didn’t think,” you cut in, crossing your arms and stepping back from him. “This was supposed to be our special moment. Our announcement.”

Max reaches out for your hand, his expression pleading. You pull away, your disappointment palpable.

“You’re in the dog house tonight, Verstappen.”

“Come on, Y/N, don’t be like that,” Max urges, his eyes reflecting genuine regret. “I know I messed up, but I didn’t mean to. I just couldn’t help talking about how happy I am.”

Your resolve wavers for a moment, seeing the sincerity in his eyes. “It’s not just about the announcement, Max. It’s about our privacy, our moment. You know how much this meant to me.”

“I do,” Max murmurs softly. “And I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

You shake your head, though your expression softens just a bit. “You better. But tonight, you’re sleeping on the sofa.”

Max nods solemnly, accepting his fate. “Alright, the sofa it is. But can we at least share the ice cream?”

You hesitate, then roll your eyes in resignation. “Fine. But just the ice cream. You’re still in trouble.”

Max smiles gratefully, relieved that you’re willing to share even this small moment with him. He retrieves two spoons from the kitchen and settles on the sofa beside you, careful to maintain a respectful distance, the mood swings were strong today. You sit together in silence, eating the ice cream slowly, each lost in your own thoughts.

As you near the bottom of the tub, Max suddenly has an idea. “Hey, Y/N?”

You look at him, a spoonful of ice cream paused halfway to your mouth. “What?”

“I know I ruined our announcement, and I feel terrible about it,” Max begins earnestly. “But how about this—you can be the one to announce the sex of the baby. However you want, whenever you want. It’s your moment.”

Your gaze softens as you consider his suggestion. “I like that idea. But you’re still sleeping on the sofa tonight.”

Max chuckles softly. “Fair enough. But at least we’re getting somewhere, right?”

You lean in and kiss his cheek gently. “Yeah, we are. Thanks, Max. This means a lot to me.”

—

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, yourbestfriend, landonorris and 1,357,147 others

yourusername guess the secrets out! (thanks max) baby verstappen we can’t wait to meet you 💘

tagged: @/maxverstappen1

view all 23,527 comments

yourbestfriend congrats!! so happy for the two of you ❤️

↳ yourbestfriend can’t wait to spoil her

↳ yourusername thank you darling! 💘

user1 hey, atleast max let you announce the sex 😂

user2 congratulations!! you’re going to be the best parents 🥳

maxverstappen1 so excited ❤️

user3 is max in the dog house? 😂

↳ yourusername yep.

—

—

✧.* the boys reactions

— Formula One Star Max Verstappen Accidentally Reveals Wife Y/N Y/L/N’s Pregnancy During Interview

By: Sasha, Rumour Radar

In a hilariously unexpected turn of events, Formula One champion Max Verstappen has found himself at the centre of a viral moment after inadvertently revealing his wife Y/N Y/L/N’s pregnancy during a live interview. The impromptu announcement has taken the motorsport and influencer communities by storm, and Y/N later added her own delightful twist to the news.

The Accidental Reveal

The incident unfolded during a press conference following Verstappen’s practice session. When asked about his expectations and what he was looking forward to in the new season, Verstappen, with his characteristic charm and ease, responded, “And for the baby to come too, the next season’s going to be busy.” The interviewer, catching the slip, pressed further, “Did you say baby?”

Max, realising his gaffe, was momentarily speechless. His face turned a shade of crimson as he stammered, “Uh, I mean…uh, no? Y/N is going to kill me.” This candid and unscripted moment sent ripples of excitement through the audience and quickly became the talk of the paddock.

Social Media Explosion

As soon as the clip aired, social media ignited. Fans, fellow racers, and celebrities alike flooded platforms like Twitter and Instagram with reactions, congratulations, and plenty of memes. The hashtag #VerstappenBaby soared to the top of the trending lists, making it clear that the news had captured everyone’s attention.

Fans and media outlets were abuzz with the news. In a move that was as swift as it was sweet, Y/N took to Instagram to confirm the delightful news. She posted a picture of a cake with pink filling and an ultrasound picture, accompanied by the caption, “Guess the secret’s out! (Thanks Max) Baby Verstappen, we can’t wait to meet you 💘.”

Max’s unintentional reveal and Y/N’s charming confirmation on social media endeared the couple even more to their legion of fans. Verstappen, known for his fierce competitiveness and composed demeanour on the track, showed a softer, more relatable side that resonated with many. His initial reaction, followed by Y/N’s sweet Instagram post, painted a picture of a couple who are navigating the journey to parenthood with humour and grace.

Messages of support

The Verstappen household, already bustling with the excitement of the F1 season, is now set for even more joy with the impending arrival of their baby girl. The couple, who have been private about their journey to parenthood, seemed to embrace the unexpected reveal with good humour. Max later took to social media, joking, “Lesson learnt! Next time, I'll leave the announcements to Y/N.”

As the F1 season progresses, Max Verstappen will have more than just his racing commitments to look forward to. The prospect of becoming a father has added a new dimension to his life, bringing a balance between his high-octane career and his personal life. This blend of professional and personal excitement has further endeared him to fans who now feel even more connected to his journey.

Despite the unplanned nature of the announcement, Max and Y/N have embraced the outpouring of support. A close friend of the couple shared, “Max and Y/N are over the moon about the baby. It wasn’t how they planned to share the news, but they’re thrilled with the love and support they’ve received and now laugh over the accidental reveal.”

Max’s teammates and rivals have also expressed their congratulations. Lewis Hamilton, Verstappen’s long-time competitor, commented on Y/N’s post, “Huge congrats to both of you! You’ll be the best parents!” Daniel Ricciardo, known for his playful camaraderie with Verstappen, added, “Can’t wait to meet Baby Verstappen! She’s going to be a little racer for sure.”

The new season

The unplanned revelation has certainly added a fresh layer of excitement to the season. Media outlets have been buzzing with speculation about how the impending fatherhood will impact Verstappen’s performance on the track. Analysts suggest that the new family milestone might provide him with an extra boost of motivation and focus.

For now, the spotlight remains on the happy news of Baby Verstappen. The couple’s playful and endearing approach to this new chapter in their lives has won them even more admiration and affection from their fans. As the countdown to their baby girl’s arrival begins, Max and Y/N are set to experience a whirlwind of emotions, balancing the thrills of Formula 1 with the joys of parenthood.

In the grandstands, on social media, and in the hearts of their supporters, Max and Y/N Verstappen are celebrated not just as a racing power couple but also as soon-to-be parents. The racing world waits with bated breath for more updates, eagerly anticipating the arrival of the newest member of the Verstappen family.

Stay tuned to Rumour Radar for the latest updates on this unfolding story and more celebrity gossip.

—

[porcelian]

Jason’s known you for a year now, a year that’s turned his life into something brighter, something more than it ever was. It’s as if he’s a star, suddenly glowing with a light he didn’t know he had, basking in the warmth of it all.

But Jason’s family doesn’t know yet. He hasn’t told them about you. You’re tucked away from them, like the Polaroid he keeps of the two of you at the fair, hidden in his wallet. Like the black-and-white photo of you curled up next to him on the couch, cup in hand, dozing off—his home screen, a little secret he holds close.

Right now, in the manor’s kitchen, Jason angles his phone away from the one person who’s in the room—Alfred—as he hurriedly types a message to you. His fingers glide across the screen, almost too fast, as if he can’t get your words to him fast enough. But then, Alfred speaks, his voice soft yet pointed.

“How long have you known them?”

Jason looks up quickly, eyes meeting Alfred’s. The older man’s lips curl into a gentle, knowing smile, and it only deepens when he adds, “You smile at your phone whenever they text you. I also believe you’ve set a special ringtone just for them.”

Jason’s cheeks flush pink as he tries to hide his reaction, fumbling for words.

“A year,” he blurts, clearing his throat. “I’ve known them for a year. They… they asked me out. We’ve been together for a few months now.”

Alfred leans in a little, his curiosity piqued. “Mm? A year?” He raises an eyebrow, his smile widening.

Jason scratches the back of his neck awkwardly, eyes darting back to his phone. “Yeah, a year. And now… we’re together.”

Alfred’s eyes soften. “Can I meet them?”

If Jason had been asked this before, his answer would’ve been a definite no—protective, defensive. You were his safe place, his home, and the thought of introducing you to his complicated family was terrifying. But now? With Alfred asking, it doesn’t feel so scary. It doesn’t feel scary at all.

The thought of you meeting one of the most important people in his life doesn’t seem nearly as daunting as it used to. In fact, it feels… right.

Jason looks up, eyes meeting Alfred’s, and his answer is soft but certain.

“Yes, I’d like that.”

[pynkfairyheart]

Pairings: connie x black reader

Warnings: smut 18+ Connie's a lil toxic, mentions of a gun, pretty angsty

pt.2 to birthday girl but can be read as a standalone

Miss you

Constance Springer. The man who was once the source of your happiness though recently the source of your frustration and headaches.

“I just don't get it, Con. You take me on these amazing dates, buy me anything that catches my attention, and say you wanna spend the rest of your life with me, yet when I ask to publicly announce we’re together, which I shouldn't have to, you always brush it aside.” You spoke as calmly as possible. Though considering this was the 4th time this week you were having this conversation your calm tone resembled shouting.

It had been five months since your birthday. Five months since Connie gave you the best gift you could ever think of. Himself.

The first four months felt as if you were on cloud nine. The entire duration it was as if you were conjoined at the hip. Connie had to make a couple of drops? There you were in his passenger seat watching a movie or using his card to pay for the large quantity of your cart.

You needed to go make up a missed exam? Connie was waiting in his car with a bouquet of your favorite flowers. The only time you weren't seen together was if he was doing something he didn't want you involved in or if he was out buying you secret lavish gifts such as the car he got you a week after your birthday. Life was great.

It wasn't til you were at your nail appointment with Mika where she nearly cut you with her clippers from shock the moment you brought up your relationship with Connie, that you realized no one knew about it.

At first, you were confused. How could no one know? You were always together but the more you thought about it you started to understand. Whenever you were out he wasn't as affectionate as when it was just the two of you, just a few touches that could easily be considered friendly, but you just brushed it off as him not being comfortable with PDA.

Even when you went on dates he'd buy the entire venue or restaurant out so it'd be just you two or would plan the nicest dates at the house, either way, no one saw you on dates as a couple.

You thought about it for a while before it finally ate you up and you just had to ask. His response was the reason shit went left.

“Whatchu mean let people know we’re together? Ion want people in our business. I'm yours and you're mine, that's all that matters” He brushed it off with a kiss on your forehead before running to go get some eggs around the corner. He was only gone for ten minutes yet in that time frame you went through hundreds of different reasons as to why he responded that way.

At first, you were confused. Then, you were trying to reassure yourself he's right as long as we know then we straight. But immediately after that thought came anger why the fuck doesn't he want people to know? Am I the fuckin side chick?

By the time Connie came back you were fuming. You trusted Connie, the night he asked you to be his he promised you he'd never do anything to hurt you yet you couldn't deny how suspicious this was. He barely had time to lock the door behind him before you started with your questions.

“You cheating on me Constance?”

“What?” He almost gave himself whiplash with how fast he turned, looking at you as if you had said the stupidest shit ever which in his mind you did.

“You heard me. Are you cheating?” You followed him into the kitchen of his apartment.

“No [☆] I'm not cheating. I needa take you to the ER? Cause it sounds like you hit your head while I was gone”

“Then why don't you wanna tell anyone?”

“About us?”

“Duh”

“I already told you, mami, I don't want people all up in our business”

That was two weeks ago and you guys were nowhere near in a better place. By no means were you insecure. You knew Connie loved you and only you but you wanted others to know as well. It's not like you wanted to leak one of your many sex tapes on IG. You just wanted at least your friend group to know you were together. Connie wasn't having it though.

“Mama lower your tone” He groaned. Inked hands rubbing his face from frustration.

“Just tell me, Con. Why don't you want anyone to know?”

“Is it wrong to wanna keep our relationship private? I love you princess but you buggin’ for real. Drop it”

“You know what. Fuck this, nd fuck you too. There's a big fucking difference between private and secret.” You slammed his bedroom door. This was too much. You couldn't take it anymore; it was as if he was ashamed of you. You loved Connie, you really, really loved him but this hurt, the constant drop of your heart whenever he let go of your hand the moment you stepped out of his apartment complex or whenever a girl flirted with him in front of the group but there was nothing you could do. You were done. No amount of love could make you settle for anything less than you knew you deserved.

Despite your teary eyes you managed to pull yourself together. Grabbing your bag, you packed as much as possible before finally exiting the room.

Connie was in the middle of rolling a blunt when he saw you walk out, he would have been convinced that his heart was lying on the couch when he stood up if it wasn't for the loud thumping in his ears.

“Where are you going?” He stood in your way

“Connie please move” You sniffled

“No, not until you tell me where you're going. Please [☆] lo siento, mami, por favor, no te vayas please don't go” His voice cracked as reality hit him. Dropping to his knees, his hands gripped the soft flesh of your hips.

“I promise to be better, I promise. I will call everyone on my phone and tell them about us right now, please don't go” At this point, you had to look away. His tear-stricken face and Spanish almost had you fold.

“We'll work this out ma, estaré mejor, lo prometo I'll be better, I promise”

“No, we can't Connie. Not right now” And with that, you left.

A month had passed so far. It was rough in the beginning. He blew your phone up 24/7 to the point where you had to block him. You couldn't eat, and whenever you did have the energy to stay awake you did nothing but scroll on your phone, your thumb always finding the photo album where you stored all pictures of Connie.

Sasha and Mikasa finally had enough, while Mika was the only one you told Sasha had a pretty good idea after she went to visit Connie only to find him in the same state as you, maybe even worse. Deciding you needed to leave the walls of your apartment and have fun, they finally convinced you to go out. Taking a couple of pregame shots while shaking ass in the mirror, your outfit leaving nothing to the imagination as you finally felt ready to face reality.

By the time you had arrived at the party, the drinks started to kick in and you grabbed the first sexy guy you saw and dragged him to the dance floor.

Unknown to you Connie was also at the party, standing in the corner as he made a few deals. He looked tired, and he was. The moment the door closed behind you he broke down. Ignoring all of the calls and texts he got from clients as he sat there. He was angry. Angry at you for leaving him but mostly angry at himself for fucking up.

When Connie finally caught sight of you it was as if someone had finally flipped the switch on throughout his body. His heart sped up, his posture straightened and his dick twitched at the sight of your body in the dress.

His dick wasn't the only thing twitching. When it finally registered to Connie that you were letting some random guy touch you as you whined on him, his eye twitched and his hand immediately went to his gun.

He was furious. With zero fucks he approached you, the barrel of his gun pressed against the guy who you were currently throwing it back on.

When you no longer felt the swaying of the man behind you, you turned to be met with the fear-frozen stranger and Connie whispering something in his ear. You didn't have time to ask what was going on before the guy scurried off and Connie roughly grabbed your arm, dragging you out of the house party.

Despite the fact you were no longer together and he had no right to drag you away, you stayed quiet. Connie rarely got angry but when he did you knew it was best to just stay quiet.

“Get in the fucking car [☆]” He threw open the door. You were convinced the thong you had on was completely drenched after those six words. His voice was low and threatening and you almost felt disgusting from how turned on you were. Almost. With one look into his rage-filled eyes, you got in the car, the door slamming behind you when he was sure you were safely in.

He quickly got in, tire tracks marking the ground as he sped off. It was silent for a minute before you decided to speak, once his grip on the steering wheel loosened and the color returned to his knuckles.

“Connie?” You faced him, eyes burning into the side of his head as he kept his dark stare on the road.

“Connie, come on. You can't just kidnap me and then not speak. Pull over and talk to me now” You huffed.

With a roll of his eyes, he pulled into a deserted parking lot.

“Hello? Either you get to talking or I'm getting out nd calling an Uber”

“No the fuck you're not” He groaned loudly, eyes meeting yours.

“Then talk” You borderline yelled

If Connie's hair was long enough to grip he'd have a couple bald spots from how frustrated he was. He gave you both time to cool down before he spoke.

“Look I'm sorry for dragging you away, and for threatening your lil boyfriend-”

“He's not my boyfriend”

“He's not?”

“No. Continue your apology” You rolled your eyes.

Your response had a smirk forming on his face. He missed you so much, even your attitude.

“I missed you ma. I'm sorry for dragging you away. I'm also sorry for how things ended.” He grabbed your hand.

“I now understand your feelings and your concerns and I'm sorry I ever made you feel like I was ashamed of you or if there was another woman. You're the love of my life ma, this past month has been pure hell. I need you baby. Please take me back.” His hands were shaking as they held yours securely. It was rare to see Connie cry, and the sight of his tear-streaked face made your heart ache. He really did love you.

Swallowing the lump in your throat you asked the one question that started it all.

“Be real Con. Why didn't you want anyone to know?”

With a sigh, he rubbed his facial hair.

“I was afraid you'd realize you could do better”

“What? What made you think that Con?”

“I sell drugs for a living, mami, I'm involved with a shit ton of dangerous people. I was afraid when others found out they'd start telling you things about me and you'd realize you can do so much better”

“Oh, Connie” You could no longer resist the need to be close to him. Maneuvering yourself so you sat in his lap you cupped his face as your eyes searched his.

“Papa there is no one better. I love you so much, Connie. There is nothing anyone could ever say to make me want or love you less because I know you. I know how much you care and love those around you. There is no one better, Connie.”

For some time, the two of you were wrapped in each other's arms as you faced your emotions.

When you both were calm, you finally dared to look into his eyes. The energy shift resembling the one from your birthday.

“Con” You slowly inched your face closer to his

“I'm sorry for all the hurt I put us through mami” His hand wrapped around your neck

“Déjame compensarte let me make it up to you” He closed the space between you.

It felt like the first breath taken after being underwater for a long time. You felt alive, felt loved. The once slow kiss grew into something more passionate. Both of you needy, as you fiend for dominance in the heated exchange.

Ultimately you lost the battle when his hands gripped your hips tightly as if to assure himself you weren't leaving again. It wasn't soon after that you found yourself in the back of his car with your legs resting on his shoulder as he drilled into you.

He littered kisses on your ankle as his grip on your hips tightened. His thick cock stretching you out had your eyes rolling back and moans of ecstasy coming out of your agape mouth.

“Yeah? You doing so good fa me ma. You miss this? Miss how good I fuck you?” His thumb found its way to your clit.

“Fuck, Connie” You whined. Attempting to push his hand away from the sensitive bud.

“Answer me princesa or ima stop” He warned

“Yes, Connie- mhmph I miss it so bad papi oh my god” Your velvety walls squeezed him tight.

"Fuuuck. Don't ever leave me again, you hear me? I can't take it, baby, I love you too much. T-try that shit again nd Imma make you watch while I put a bullet in between his eyes. Understand?” His pace increased.

God that shouldn't have turned you on as much as it did. You were convinced you could have come on the spot, the added pressure on your carotids when you didn't answer immediately wasn't any help.

“Y-yes Con, I promise it won't happen again” You managed to say in between the moans and whimpers that you no longer had the energy to contain.

“Keep squeezing me, mami. I'm so fuckin close” He groaned, hand no longer on your neck as it rested against the steamy windows to stable himself.

The atmosphere of the car was pure filth. Your moans bounced off the windows, the sloshing sound of your wet pussy and slapping skin that created the creamy ring around the base of cock topping it all off.

His thrusts were slowly getting sloppy, you were just squeezing him so tight.

“C-Con” You managed to gasp out, the marks he littered on your neck to suppress his whimpers, having the coil in your belly tighten.

“I know mama, let go fa me” He groaned.

That instant you came, eyes rolling to the back of your head for a quick second as your cream and small spurts of squirt leaked from your pussy.

“Shit mama” He panted, dick twitching as he painted your walls with his cum.

Connie being the lover boy he was despite repeatedly denying it whispered apologies, and sweet promises into your ear as you came down from your high.

“I'm sorry mami, I promise to be better” He kissed you softly as if you were in a fairytale before whispering in your ear.

“But don't think just cus we're good now, that I'm not gon tear that ass up when we get home for giving that loser a taste of what's mine.”

I dont know how i feel about this one buuutttt all thanks to @masterofthepp for giving me this idea. Hopefully it meets your standards babes. As always any feedback is welcome. mwah

[morganaawriterr]

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ Showering with Sunghoon;

Pairing; fem!reader and boyfriend!Park Sunghoon Synopsis; You love showering with Sunghoon. He is the best boyfriend, takes care of you even in the shower, not letting you lift a finger. Not even to wash yourself ;) Genre; Fluff (a bit suggestive) Warning; None (?) Sunghoon is a true GENTLEMAN!! Kinda horny!Sunghoon because you are just too hot (?) My Masterlist;

A/N: This is the Sunghoon version of the, 'Bathing with Ni-ki' scenario. When i was writing the Ni-ki one, i already had the idea for this one heheheheh. I can't tell each one of them is my favourite, but... a man like Sunghoon (at least the one in this story) is my dream!!! I hope you guys enjoy it, likes and reblogs are always welcome, thank you so much <3

Also, happy Christmas eve, my loves ♡♡

If there was one thing you loved doing with Sunghoon, it was showering together. Everyone knew he was a gentleman—always opening doors for you, making sure you weren’t cold when you went out, and keeping his eyes on you to ensure you were safe and comfortable. And when you shower together, nothing changes.

Sunghoon knew you better than anyone else. He understood how you always put others before yourself (blame it on being the older sister). So, whenever he could, he took it upon himself to care for you. When you showered together, he refused to let you lift a finger—washing your hair, using all your scalp products, and gently cleaning your skin for you.

So, when he got a text from you saying you’d be taking a quick shower, he rushed home. Stepping into the foggy bathroom, he heard soft music playing—Cigarettes After Sex, as usual. Sunghoon quickly discarded his clothes and approached the shower. Before stepping inside, he paused to admire you.

Your sweet voice carried softly with the music, your head tilted back under the hot water, the droplets cascading down your body like a sculpture brought to life. To him, you were the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, and he couldn’t be more grateful to have you.

When your back was turned to the door, he finally stepped in. His tall frame came up behind you, his strong arms wrapping around your waist. You jumped slightly in surprise but quickly giggled. You loved it when Sunghoon was clingy.

“You should’ve waited for me…” he murmured into your ear, resting his face on your shoulder as the hot water poured over both of you.

Turning your head slightly, you pecked his cheek. “We have to be quick, baby. I promised your mom I’d meet her at the mall by 3 p.m. We’re picking out new things for her kitchen,” you explained to your handsome boyfriend. Then, you turned around fully to face him.

The water had completely soaked his hair, and he ran a hand through it, pushing it back. You gazed into his eyes, captivated by the view in front of you. His pale skin was drenched and shining before your curious eyes.

“Why didn’t she call me?” he whined, wrapping his arms around you again, as though he wished he could be under your skin, just to be closer to you.

“I’m the one with the interior design degree…” you joke, resting your head against his chest, savoring the warmth of his skin against yours and the hot water cascading over both of you.

Sunghoon doesn’t respond; he simply kisses your hair and holds you close for a few minutes. The bathroom grows even steamier, the air heavy with humidity. You look up at him, captivated by his handsome features— his big nose, juicy red lips, adorable moles, and the depth of his brown eyes, completely drunk on love.

He gazes back at you with equal intensity, his mischievous fingers trailing along your side, sending goosebumps across your skin. The way you look at him—those beautiful, pleading puppy eyes—are enough to drive him crazy. Slowly, Sunghoon leans in and captures your lips in a slow, loving kiss, his soft lips molding perfectly with yours.

Your arms wrap around his neck as your fingers weave through his black hair, gently pulling. His tongue teases its way into your mouth, and the kiss quickly deepens, turning hungry. The sensation of your wet, nude body pressing against his is intoxicating. You finally pull away for air, your foreheads resting against each other as you both catch your breath.

“Turn around so I can wash your hair,” Sunghoon says in a breathy voice, regaining his composure and focusing on taking care of you. His hands remain firmly on your hips as you turn, your back facing him—a sight that makes him momentarily wish his mom would forget about your plans so he could have more time with you.

Noticing he hasn’t moved, you glance back over your shoulder, only to catch him staring at your body with a sly grin, his hands gripping your waist a little tighter making your skin turn white.

“Hoonie…” you call, snapping him out of his trance. A soft blush spreads across his face as he realizes he’s been caught.

“Sorry, princess, I got distracted,” he mutters in a low voice, quickly reaching for your favorite shampoo to get started.

You turn your head forward, giving him better access to your scalp. When his skilled fingers begin massaging your hair, it feels heavenly. He always has a way of being so gentle yet confident, and it makes your knees weak every time.

Sunghoon has a habit of massaging your neck while washing your hair—one hand steadying your head while the other works on your tired neck muscles. You gulp and bite your bottom lip. Today, for some reason, his touch feels even better than usual, making you momentarily regret agreeing to plans with his mom.

“All done. Let’s rinse you off,” Sunghoon says softly, holding your hand as you turn to let the water rinse your hair. As the warm stream flows over you, Sunghoon notices your quickened breaths.

“You okay there, princess?” he asks with a knowing smirk, fully aware of the effect he has on you.

You don’t answer, just nod, your eyes still closed. After rinsing your hair, he applies a bit of conditioner to your ends, gently scrunching them to enhance your waves. While the conditioner sets, he grabs your loofah, squeezing out some of your body wash before carefully lathering it.

You let him take over completely, utterly under his spell. His hands move with precision and tenderness, washing every inch of you—from your neck and arms to your chest and belly. He even kneels to wash your legs and feet with the same care. You watch him with hearts in your eyes, completely smitten by his loving attention.

When he stands again, you turn around, brushing your hair to one side to expose your back. He resumes his task, one hand holding your waist affectionately while the other traces gentle circles over your skin as he cleans you.

Sunghoon smiles when he’s finished, admiring the way your skin glistens, still covered in bubbles. He leans in to press a quick peck on your lips before turning the water back on to rinse you off. Stepping back, he leans against the cold tiled shower wall, his mischievous eyes tracing the path of the drops as they slide down your body.

Noticing his gaze, you smile and gently take his hand, pulling him under the warm stream. Wrapping your arms around his waist, you rest your head against his chest, craving the comforting sensation of his skin against yours. The two of you stay like this for a while, soaking in the moment, until your hair and body are completely rinsed clean.

“Do you want me to wash your hair too?” you ask, looking up at your handsome boyfriend. He returns your gaze with a soft smile.

“No, princess. You can go see my mom. I’ll finish faster if I do it myself,” he says, his thumb caressing your cheek affectionately. You laugh, knowing he’s right. If you stayed, things would likely go far beyond just washing his hair.

“I love you,” you confess shyly, placing a lingering kiss on his perfect lips before stepping out of the shower.

“I love you more,” Sunghoon replies sweetly, his heart swelling at the sight of your radiant smile. “I’ll be waiting for you…” he adds with a playful wink as you close the door, your laugh echoing softly in the steamy bathroom.

Taglist: @grandlightcandy @seokseokjinkim @strxwbloody @enhasunghoonishot @contyynishimura @heewanrik @ranwonbin @leanderexists @lovelyyf @youngheejay @crimson-reaper576 @rikifever @mrsjjongstby @laurradoesloveu @babyboomysweetiedarling @mintchocos-things @reikaxslvr If you wanna be added or removed from the taglist just comment below!

[ Check out my MASTERLIST; ]

[arieslost]

falling for you | op81

oscar piastri x fem!reader

summary: you and oscar should be more than just friends, but neither of you realize it until you’re on vacation… and his girlfriend is there, too.

word count: 2,956

warnings: angsty moments

masterlist — join my tag list here!

PART TWO

shoutout to my dream journal- i got this idea from a dream i had in 2021. also disclaimer, i love lily, she’s so sweet. we’re pretending that oscar is dating someone else here ok thanks <33

© arieslost 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

For the first time in your life, you were regretting taking a vacation, and it was all Oscar Piastri’s fault.

Your family and the Piastris had been going on vacation together for as long as you could remember, and you’ve been best friends with Oscar for just as long. He was in the background of every defining moment of your life. He could say the same about you— best friends forever.

And then, like the idiot you are, you went and fell in love with him. You couldn’t exactly pinpoint how, or why, or when; all you knew was that you woke up on the second day of your vacation, walked into the kitchen, saw him pouring himself a bowl of cereal, and it hit you like a damn truck.

“Good morning, sweetie,” your mom says, barely noticing your slightly panicked expression as you realized that you were very much in love with your best friend.

“Morning,” you mumble back, unable to tear your eyes away from Oscar.

He notices you staring at him, your eyes as wide as saucers, and frowns. “You okay? There’s still some of this in the box, I saved it for you.”

Great. Of course he has to be so thoughtful all the time.

“Yeah, ‘m fine. Thanks, Osc.” You squeeze his arm as you pass by. He smiles at you, like he always does when you do that, and you want to die a little.

Especially when his girlfriend enters the room.

It’s the first time either of you have a significant other during your annual vacation time, and while you had aggressively lobbied against it (Oscar obviously had no clue), your parents and his parents had agreed to let her come. You were furious about it for weeks and couldn’t figure out why.

Well, now you know.

You can’t even enjoy your cereal, especially not when she kisses Oscar for everyone to see and then makes direct eye contact with you and smirks when he’s not looking. So, you decide to spend the entire day completely Oscar-less, as much as you wish you could just have him all to yourself like you always do when you’re here.

The thing is, you’ve never liked his girlfriend, obvious reasons aside. Even before Oscar started dating her, you’d never gotten along with her. It was like she had a personal vendetta against you, and always tried her hardest to be touchy with Oscar whenever she saw that you were in her line of sight. The most infuriating part is that literally no one else ever notices her behavior except you. Not even Oscar, your so-called best friend. Normally, you’d go to him to vent about something like this, because he’s always understood you in ways that no one else ever will. Now he’s the last person you can go to.

It sucks. You’re angry at your parents, his parents, and especially him for asking if he could bring her along in the first place.

You end up spending your entire morning and most of the afternoon at the beach. You don’t put on enough sunscreen because there’s no one there to make sure you use the proper amount. You hate getting sunburn, but you’d take that over seeing Oscar with his girlfriend. By the time you get back to the rental, everyone is off doing their own thing. Your parents are putting together a puzzle in the living room. Oscar’s parents have the door to their room shut, and you can hear the TV playing. You don’t have the courage to go looking for Oscar himself– once you see that he’s not in your shared room, you know that he’s either out or in his girlfriend’s room. Either way, you don’t want to know.

That was another thing that makes you wish this vacation never happened: Oscar had been allowed to bring his girlfriend, but the only condition was that the two of them had to sleep in separate rooms. That meant the two of you shared a room like always, but that didn’t mean he didn’t take every possible chance he could to go to hers, meaning you’re alone most of the time.

You might as well just pack up and walk home to save yourself the struggle of five more days.

It doesn’t seem like anyone is around to hear, so you let out a loud, frustrated groan as you flop back onto your bed. You look to your right, past Oscar’s bed, at the flowy curtains hanging in front of the doors that lead to the deck outside. One of the doors is ajar, and the slight breeze makes the curtains flap gently.

“You okay, sweetie?” Of course your mom heard you from all the way down the hall.

“Yeah,” you reply in a way that makes it very obvious that you’re not okay.

“Ah, I know that tone.” Your mom says, crossing the room to sit at the foot of your bed. “You need a boyfriend. You wouldn’t be this mopey if you had someone here with you, too.”

Like Oscar does. “You’re telling me,” you scoff bitterly. “I guess I’ll try a little harder for next year.”

“Well, are there any boys you’re interested in?” She asks, rubbing your leg comfortingly.

“I don’t know,” you mumble, turning your head away from her so she can’t get a perfect view of your face heating up as you think about your best friend.

She hums. “Yeah, I knew it.”

“Knew what?”

“It’s Oscar, isn’t it?”

You cover your face with your hands. “Ugh! Leave now, and we can pretend this conversation never happened.”

“Nice try.” Your mom pries your hands away and gives you a look. “I just don’t think it’s the best idea that you like Oscar. He doesn’t exactly have the most stable lifestyle.”

“He doesn’t need stability, he’s rich.” You shoot back. “I don’t even care about that, Mom. I’m not exactly interested in him because of his lifestyle.” You consider not saying it, but you’ll feel better getting it off your chest. “And his girlfriend is a bitch.”

“You’re right,” your mom says, and you can’t believe what you’re hearing. “I hate his girlfriend. I’ve always thought that you’re much better suited for him.”

“No kidding. Known him his whole life, everyone thought we were dating growing up, we’ve gone through just about everything together. I guess that simply doesn’t compare to the girl he’s known for five whole months.” You’re being snarky now, and you can’t find it in you to care. It should be you dating Oscar.

Everyone else seems to think so except him.

Your mom laughs, but in a way that you know that she agrees with you, as childish as you’re being. She continues to rub your leg, and the comforting motion has your eyes drooping. The stress of your newfound feelings and the warmth of the sun on your skin is more than enough to tire you out.

“Nap time?” She asks eventually, and you nod slowly.

“Mhmm.”

“I’ll come wake you up before dinner.” She kisses the top of your head, gets up, and then says something that has you wide awake. “Hey, Oscar. She’s sleeping.”

“Ah, okay. I’ll be quiet.” You hate the calming effect his voice has on you, even though now just looking at him has sent your heart racing.

One of them shuts the door, and shortly after you can feel the bed dipping under Oscar’s weight as he lays down next to you.

“Hey,” he whispers. “Missed you.”

I missed you more. Jerk.

“I know you’re awake,” he continues. “But you don’t have to talk to me.”

Good.

“I guess I deserve the silent treatment.”

Your resolve cracks a little, because he sounds genuinely upset. As much as you want to, you don’t open your eyes, but you do turn around to face him and move closer in the process. You can smell the faint traces of his cologne, and you have to fight a sigh of contentment. Damn him for always making you feel so safe. Besides, you’re a little cold now thanks to the air conditioning.

Your eyes nearly fly open in shock when he wastes no time in pulling you closer so you’re properly cuddled into his side and puts his arm around you. He lets out a breath, like he’s relieved, before he moves around a little and leans his head against yours.

The logical side of you is screaming to quit the sleeping facade and confront him right here and now about this rather intimate behavior, but the side of you that just discovered the strong feelings you harbor for your best friend tells you to just play along and enjoy whatever alone time you have with him. It’s not hard to pick which side to listen to.

The two of you stay this way for so long you start falling asleep again, and it only gets worse when he starts rubbing your back. It starts out very subtle; at first, his fingertips just move up and down along the fabric of your shirt. He stops for a moment, like he’s considering the outcomes of his actions, and then flattens his palm against your back and continues the up and down motion. You bury your head in his chest, mostly to hide the fact that you’re turning red but also because you just want to be closer to him. He hums a little when you do it, and you have to stop yourself from weighing the logistics of whether or not you could get away with kissing him right here and now.

You have to fight the urge to sleep, wanting to soak in every moment of his strange but welcome actions. Maybe this is all just an elaborate dream– either way, you’re not going to sleep through it.

The sound of him sighing again catches your attention, but you’re entirely brought back to reality when he starts moving.

You fully give up. You don’t want him to go, so you say his name quietly and look up at him.

He sits up a little to look back at you, and you reach up to smooth away the crease between his eyebrows with your thumb. “We’re on vacation. You’re supposed to be having fun.”

“So are you.” He points out.

Of course he’s picked up on it.

“It’s complicated.”

“Talk to me,” he encourages, shifting so he can keep you close. His little polite cat smile nearly has you spilling your guts to him about how much you wish you were the one he was kissing in front of everyone.

You press your lips together. “I… I can’t, Osc.”

You always hate his crestfallen expression, but you hate it more when you’re the cause of it.

“You can talk to me about anything, you know that right?”

“I know,” you reassure him. “Just… not this. Anything but this.”

He hums again, but not in the happy way that he did before when you were practically trying to crawl into his skin. This is more like a hum of concentration.

You have a moment of hope, thinking that maybe he’ll just let it go, but you know your best friend better than that. It doesn’t change your shock when he speaks again.

“Okay. I think I know what this is about.”

“I seriously doubt you do.” You can’t help but laugh a little. How could he possibly know about something that you yourself only just discovered?

He gives you a specific look then, a look that you have always despised being on the receiving end of. It’s a look that tells you he’s expecting you to explain yourself and see if he’s right. He usually is right, which only makes it worse.

“No.” You shake your head, starting to try and find a way to get up. “No, Oscar, don’t make me say it.”

He isn’t having it though: his arm stays snug around you, and he puts one of his legs between both of yours, hooking his ankle around yours so you can’t escape.

“Oscar,” you whine. “No fair, with your stupid reflexes.”

He whines your name back in the same exact tone. “Shouldn’t try to get away from me, then.”

You let out a groan of frustration. “I’m not telling you anything.”

Someone walks out into the hallway, and the sound of the footsteps coming towards your room makes the both of you freeze. The two of you are in a rather precarious position, with your limbs tangled and Oscar practically on top of you. Not that you necessarily mind, but if anyone walked in right now, eyebrows would be raised.

Oscar seems to be thinking along the same lines as you, meeting your wide-eyed stare with his own but not making any effort to move away. It clicks in your head at that exact moment, just as it did in the morning when you walked into the kitchen.

He does know.

“How?” You whisper, too wrapped up in your disbelief to even be embarrassed.

“I know you better than anyone,” he whispers back, head whipping towards the closed door when you hear a creak, like someone’s weight is shifting on the floor.

The footsteps recede. You both let out a breath, turning to face each other again. You’re close. Too close. Close enough that you could count his eyelashes if you wanted to.

You remember the last time you were this close to him— you were both 14, playing hide and seek at midnight at a friend’s birthday party. He’d accidentally chosen the same hiding place as you, a desk with a rolling chair in front of it, and you’d been forced to squish together underneath the desk in order to conceal yourselves well enough. You were mad that he chose the same spot as you because it raised the likelihood of being found, and he’d just giggled at you every time you glared at him. You remember how much you loved his giggle, and how you’d wondered what it would be like to kiss his smile.

Well. You really have been in love with him this whole time.

You want nothing more than to crawl under the bed and stay there for the rest of the vacation so you don’t have to look him in the eye. You never want to speak to him again. You want to tell him everything. You want to push him away. You want to hold him closer.

“Tell me I didn’t ruin our friendship.” Is all you can think to say, and Oscar reacts immediately, brushing your hair out of your face and hugging you tightly.

“Honey, you could never ruin this.” He presses his nose into your hair, brushes his lips against your head. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re not the one who should be sorry,” you grumble into his chest.

He doesn’t answer, instead choosing to alternate between playing with the ends of your hair and drawing shapes on your shoulder with his fingers. He’s always been affectionate with you, but this is a whole new level, and your overthinking has you worried that you’ll lose it entirely as soon as the two of you have to leave this room and face the reality of the situation. You close your eyes, trying your hardest to soak up every little detail of this moment in the event that you never get another like it.

You know Oscar thinks you’re asleep when, much to your dismay (and maybe his, too), he gets up and gently lays you back against your pillow.

“I really shouldn’t be doing this,” you hear him say, and then you feel his lips press firmly against your temple, his hand leaving the most featherlight touch on your cheek. “I’m sorry, baby.”

The soft material of a blanket covers your body, and the door opens and shuts. Your tears waste no time in soaking into the pillowcase.

You’re regretting this vacation, but it isn’t Oscar’s fault.

He’s not the one who fell in love with the one person he can’t have.

Things change, but not at all in the way you expect. Oscar still throws an arm around you for every picture and hoists you onto his back without hesitation for the obligatory piggyback photo that has been a vacation tradition since forever. His girlfriend still looks at you like you’re the pebble she can’t get out of her shoe, but for every dirty look and intentional display of affection, Oscar is there to make up for it. He goes to the beach with you and makes sure that you apply enough sunscreen, he goes to the amusement park with you even though he hates most of the rides, he takes you to breakfast at the risk of his girlfriend throwing a fit when you get back. She does, but he doesn’t care. He does it every year, and he tells you that he’d be damned if he didn’t keep up with it.

Maybe he pities you. It doesn’t matter. You can live with never even having a chance with the boy you think you’ve always wanted something more with, so long as you can continue to call him your best friend.

He leaves for his next race on the last day of vacation, and his girlfriend goes with him. You support him from home. He calls you every single day.

Oscar has never been able to go more than 24 hours without hearing your voice. He’s never been able to fully express just how much he needs you, and now he has to face the obstacle of breaking up with his girlfriend before he can even try.

note: this fic was low key my personal everest and i changed the ending at the last second because i hate angst. if anyone is interested in a part two, let me know because i’d be happy to write it at some point!

requests are OPEN, and my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!

reblogs are always appreciated <33

beautiful dividers by @/saradika !

tags: @venusacrossthestars @67-angelofthelordme-67 @emails-i-can-send @nelly187 @littlemiss-arabella @notturlover @verstappensrealwife @oliveisunstable @hauntedphotographybookstaco @maddie-bell @hood-jabi @jupiter-je-taime @uzisplanet @akiraquote @average-f1-enjoyer @xo-mya1 @beth-712 @bingewatche @alex15marie @ana2delusional @tomhollandfics @cixrosie @simpluvrs @meko-mt

[cameronsprincess]

Formal request for blodemulletmustacheprettyteethandeyessexysouthernaccent!rafe x reader baby

blondemulletmustacheprettyteethandeyessexysouthernaccentrafe has me on my kneeeees. we’re imagining a scenario here that @oceandriveab put in my mind! seduce. the. tree. man.

CW: smut! 18+ only! blue collar!rafe, slutty!reader, protected sex (shocker!!), fingering, nipple play, sex with a stranger (don’t do that fr).

rafe masterlist | requests | taglist form

you’re sitting on your front porch, enjoying the weather outside when your phone loudly ringing from inside catches your attention.

sighing, you stand from the swing and make your way inside to see who’s calling. 

828-756-2798… you look over the number, not sure who it is, but you are expecting some workers to come by and deal with some trees in your yard, so you quickly answer.

“hello?”

“hi, is this y/n y/l/n?”

your body heats up at the sound of the deep, raspy southern accent at the other end of the line. you quickly shake the thoughts in your head and reply.

“yeah this is she, who’s this?”

you hear rustling from the other end before the man speaks again.

“my name’s rafe. rafe cameron. i’m calling about the trees you need cut down. i’m just letting you know i’ll be there in about an hour, my last job has run a little longer than expected.”

rafe cameron sounds sexy. you quickly squash the inappropriate thoughts about the man once more, clearing your throat as your thighs rub together.

“oh, yes, i forgot you’d be coming today,” not a total lie. “that’s perfectly fine, i’ll be home all day, just whenever you can get here is fine! thank you!”

“not a problem, darlin’, see you in an hour.”

he hangs up before you can say anything else. your mind begins reeling with inappropriate thoughts of the man who’d just called you. have you ever met him? is he as sexy as he sounds? fuck. you have serious problems, and you definitely need to get laid. and no, not by the man who’s coming to cut down some fucking trees for christ’s sake.

you shake your head, deciding you need to go inside and take a long, cold shower. hopefully it’ll help clear the thoughts running rampant through your mind.

—

an hour later, you’re sitting at the bar in your kitchen, glass of wine in hand— what? it’s five somewhere, right?— and scrolling through your phone when a knock sounds at your front door.

taking a quick sip of the wine, you set it on the counter and stand from your high top chair. you slowly approach the front door, running sweaty hands down the front of your tiny tank top before turning the knob and opening it. jesus fucking christ. you’re greeted by the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen in your life. tall— probably 6’2, 6’3 give or take— straight nose, sharp jaw with a slight stubble to it, a perfectly groomed mustache that looks like it’d feel amazing between your legs, messy dirty blond mullet that’s settled beneath a hat, and gorgeous fucking bright blue eyes. lets not even get started on his fucking arms, fuck.

“uh.. miss?”

the deep sound of his voice startles you, and you look up to meet those damn blue eyes. he has a slight hint of concern on his face, but it quickly fades as he smiles back at you. fuck. he’s the definition of perfection.

“oh sorry, long day,” you lie, you haven’t done shit all day. “um, so… do you know which trees need to be taken down or uh.. do i need to show you?”

he smiles that perfect fucking smile, letting out a small laugh as his head falls forward. “i remember which ones, miss. it’ll probably take me about two hours, give or take, then i’ll be out of your hair.”

you smile, but you’re internally wishing you could find an excuse to keep him around longer. you open your mouth a few times, trying and failing to speak. finally, you settle with, “sounds good, just let me know when you’re finished.”

he nods once and turns, making his way off your porch and getting to work.

—

you couldn’t help yourself. you’d shut the door and went back to your kitchen, trying to shove the deep, southern accent out of your mind, trying to forget that perfect fucking smile and those pretty blue eyes. but you couldn’t. so that’s how you ended up on your front porch, wine glass in hand as you zoned out on rafe, watching him work in your yard.

god if he didn’t look fucking edible. the way his arms flexed with each pull of the rope tied to the branches, the way his back muscles strained against the tight fabric of his baby blue work shirt, his denim jeans hugging his waist and ass perfectly… you couldn’t help but picture scenarios of him fucking you. bent over your front porch railing, in your bedroom, bathroom, in his work truck, anywhere. your mind wandered, imagining the most filthy fucking—

“all done, darlin’.”

fuck. when did he finish? how long has he been standing there?

your eyes focus on his face, and your entire body lights on fire when you catch those damn blue eyes scanning the length of your body. you didn’t leave much to the imagination in your tight tank top and tiny cotton shorts.

you stand, moving to reach a hand out for him to shake and go on his way, but the second his hand touches yours, tingles run up the length of your arm, traveling all the way to your already soaking wet and aching pussy. rafe notices your tense demeanor, and he smiles, tightening his hand on yours.

“you alright, darlin? you look a little… flushed.”

“it’s uh..” you pause, clearing your throat, “it’s the, the heat.. yeah. so.. all good?”

“all good” he drawls, giving you that panty dropping smile again.

you’re about to pull your hand away, but he tightens his hold, pulling your closer to him. you let out what can only be described as a squeak, a fucking squeak, what are you? a prepubescent girl?

“i saw the way you were eyein’ me, sweetheart.”

your face heats up, probably turning a bright shade of fucking red. way to be discreet. you definitely zoned out on him. fuck.

“i uh… i’m sorry.”

he chuckles. “no need to apologize, sweetheart. i’d be lyin’ if i said i didn’t have my eyes on you too.. you’re.. well you’re gorgeous.”

a moan slips from your lips at his compliment and you swear you wish the ground could swallow you whole. rafe’s eyes darken, flitting down to stare at your lips for a beat before they find yours again. you contemplate your next move very carefully.

stepping toward him, you place your free hand against his hard chest, digging your fingers into his shirt. his darkened over eyes stare down at you intently, flicking back and forth between your own eyes and your lips. you lift yourself up on your tiptoes, your lips so close to his you can feel each exhale he makes.

“do you wanna fuck me as badly as i wanna fuck you?”

you’re teasing him at best, but the guttural groan he releases has you flinching back. you gasp loudly when his lips crash against yours, swallowing every small whimper, gasp and moan you make.

he releases your hand, letting it flop down by your side. his large hands grip at your hips harshly, making their way to your ass and squeezing, hard. you whimper against his lips again and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue inside your mouth. he tastes like mint and fucking addiction. his hands squeeze at your ass again while his lips continue to devour you. he breaks the kiss only for a second, asking, “you wanna be fucked here, or inside, darlin’?”

you moan at the way his voice sounds, the question sending sparks of pleasure straight to your aching core. you lift your eyes to meet his intense blue ones, “h-here?” you say, but it comes out more as a question than a statement.

he chuckles, his lips pecking yours once more before he pushes you back. your brow furrows, a frown working its way onto your lips, but it’s quickly squashed when you watch him begin fumbling with his belt. he swiftly pulls it from the loops of his jeans, tossing it to the ground, the sound of the metal buckle clanking against your wooden porch has you flinching. are you really about to fuck the goddamn tree guy? fuck yes. he’s sexy, and it’s been months since you’ve fucked anyone.

you watch intently as he pops the button on his denim jeans, sliding the zipper down. he shoves the rough material down his legs, letting them pool around his boots. your eyes slowly trail down from his face to his erect cock that’s straining against his boxers. holy fuck. his dick is fucking huge from what you can see.

he smirks at you, his large hands gripping your shoulders and making you jump, ripping your eyes off his monster of a cock. “strip f’me darlin’” he drawls.

you quickly obey, pulling your tank top up and over your head, exposing your bare chest to him. he sucks in a sharp breath, his fingers moving to pinch at your hard nipples. he rolls the sensitive bud between his fingers, pinching and pulling at them before cupping and massaging your breasts.

“you got pretty tits, darlin’. real pretty.”

you blush, biting at your bottom lip as he continues to massage your tits, his fingers moving to stimulate your nipples every so often. he drops his hands to your hips, fingers pushing into the sides of your cotton shorts. he slowly pushes them down your legs, his dark blue eyes never leaving yours.

once he has them pushed down to your ankles, you lift your feet and step out of them, kicking them across your porch. thank god you bought a house in the middle of nowhere, this wouldn’t be so easy with nosy neighbors around.

you stand before him in nothing but a black lace thong, and your body heats up under rafe’s intense gaze. his eyes trail the length of your body over and over again, as if he’s trying to carve the image of you into his mind. he pulls his jeans back up his legs a bit, and you furrow your brow, confused. he pulls his wallet from the back left pocket, opening it and pulling out a condom. typical male. at least he’s prepared.

his jeans drop back to the ground and he rips the foil packet open with his teeth. pulling it free from the packet, he shoves his boxers down his thighs, and your eyes nearly pop out of your skull when you see his long, thick, veiny cock. fuck. me. he’s fucking huge. you watch in awe as he slides the lubricated condom down his length, stepping toward you in slow strides.

he grips your hips, spinning your body around and pushing your front into the porches railing. your fingers tightly grip at it as you suck in breath after breath. this is stupid, right? you don’t even know him. but he is sexy… so it’s fine. right? you’ll never see him again. it’s fine, you’re fi-

all your thoughts come to a screeching halt when you feel the head of his cock pushing inside you. he hisses in a breath, his fingers digging into your sides harder. “fuck, darlin’… you’re so tight.”

he slowly pushes himself inside you, inch by inch until he’s completely buried inside you. his face falls, his mouth leaving sloppy kisses on your shoulder, teeth biting into your delicate skin. he stays completely still, allowing you to adjust to his size.

“p-please?” you whimper, turning your hips in a circular motion and feeling his cock twitch inside you just the slightest.

“please what, sweetheart? use your words.” he rasps.

“please.. please fuck me?” you say, but it comes out more as a question than anything.

his deep laughter fills the air, and your face heats up. you’re actually begging a man you just met to fuck you, pathetic? maybe. but you’re too horny to care.

he pulls his face from your neck, one hand wrapping in your hair and pulling while the other rests on your hip. “‘m gonna fuck you now, sweetheart.” is all he says before he slowly pulls out, slamming himself back in and pulling a low whine from you.

rafe’s hips set a quick pace, his thick cock brutally pounding into your weeping cunt. you wrap your fingers around the railing of your porch for stability, gripping at the wood so tightly your knuckles turn white.

“oh, g-god… rafe!” you moan breathlessly.

his hand on your hip tightens, his blunt nails biting into the soft flesh of your skin. he slows his thrusts, slowly pulling his cock from inside you, letting you feel every thick inch and every vein as he does. he slowly pushes himself back inside, your warm, tight walls squeezing at him.

“pussy’s squeezin’ me, baby. she’s so fuckin’ needy, yeah? such a dirty little whore f’me, lettin’ me fuck you on your front porch ‘n we only just met today.”

each word is punctuated with a painfully slow thrust of his hips, the swollen head of his cock abusing that spongey sweet spot deep inside your pussy.

your toes curl, fingers tightening around your porch railing so hard you’re scared you might bruise your fingers.

“rafe… please?” you beg, feeling that band inside your belly tightening, threatening to snap.

he lowers his face into your neck, inhaling the sweet smell of your perfume and sweat mixed. his lips kiss, lick and nip at your sweat slick skin, goosebumps spreading across your body. you’re so close..

“please what, darlin’? use your words f’me.”

“please… can i cum? please?”

a low growl is pulled from deep inside his chest, his hand wraps around your throat, pulling your face back so his lips can capture yours in a searing kiss.

“go on, cum f’me, make a mess on my cock, baby.” he mumbles against your lips.

the band snaps, your lips matching his pace. your body shakes underneath his as he continues to fuck himself inside you, never letting up as your euphoric high takes over your entire body.

“oh god… oh god, rafe! fuck!”

his thrusts begin to grow sloppy, low, raspy grunts falling from his lips before he buries his face in your neck once more. his teeth sink into your skin as he groans. “fuck, ‘m.. fuck ‘m coming.”

his cock twitches inside you, pushing himself deep inside one final time before he cums inside the condom.

his body twitches, his chest heaving as he slowly pulls himself from inside you. pulling off the condom, he disposes of it in the trash bin you have on your porch before slowly pulling his boxers and jeans back up his legs. he helps you get redressed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear and smiling.

“you’re fuckin’ amazing. think i could call you sometime and we do this again?”

i had not a clue how to end this, i’m so sorry this is probably shitty but i’ve worked on it off n on for what… 2 months i think? maybe just a month😭😂 love you kel, hope it’s okay babe!😭

rafe taglist: @oceandriveab @princessslutt @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @rafesthroatbaby @sturnioloshacker @starkeysprincess @rafeyscurtainbangs @atorturedpoetx @redhead1180 @jjsmarijuana @romaescapes @kisses4angel @maybankslover @bellbottombaby @rafesgiirl @urbimom @antagonize-me-motherfucker @araminsstuff075 @araminsstufff @chaneydoll @bi-zowee @princesssuki21 @zrm004 @ijustwanttoreadlols @baennied @hyperfixationgirl @justheretoreadthestories @chiaraanatra @chimindity @juniebugg @unsaidjaelinrose @momoewn @spid6y @wearemadeofstardust0 @vallovesyou @daydreamrafe @mattyskies @fallrafwe @cherriespopsicle @rafeglazer @nattywattyy @st6rrrs

[salsakiyoomi]

“so, do you actually like me?”

you ask suddenly, breaking the silence that was between you and toji in the kitchen as he prepared pancakes for a late night snack.

“come again?” he say sarcastically, flipping the pancake to the other side.

his back is facing you but you can hear the smirk in his tone.

you huff in response, but repeat yourself, “do you actually like me?”

it’s not like your question was along the same lines as ‘would you love me if i was a worm?’ or any late night silly thoughts, you were actually asking him.

“y/n, doll,” he sighs, “we’ve been together for what? four years? and we’re getting married in three months. of course i actually like you.”

you roll your eyes at his answer —  unfortunately for toji, it wasn’t the answer you were looking for.

“no, dumbass.” you say, and he whips his head around at the name calling, but you don’t pay mind to his dirty look, “do you actually actually like me?”

he scoffs, “i just told you that i did — ”

“no! i mean, do you actually like me? like why do you like me, you know? why are you so dumb?” you say, crossing your arms.

once more, he decides to ignore the name calling, “i think you need to get better at your wording, sweetheart.” he says and you scoff, “answer the question if you still want the wedding to be on.” you threaten and he laughs.

he pushes a pancake on a plate, “well if i had to talk about why i like you, we’re gonna be staying up the whole night.”

“flattering but not satisfying.”

he chuckles as he pushes over the plate of pancakes to you, and sits next to you by the counter.

tojil was never too good at expressing his feelings in words —  the best he was at was calling you pet names and bringing you gifts every other day, but talking? nope, not his field of expertise.

but for you, he’d try.

“let’s see,” he hums, “i like the way you call my name whenever you want something”

“i like the way you get all flustered whenever i bring you a gift, even if it's something as simple as chocolate. i love the way you always tell me you love me whenever you just wake up, i love the way you kiss my forehead before we go to bed, i love the way you run your fingers through my hair after i’ve had a long day at work and you’re helping me relax —  why are you so silent?”

he asks, afraid that he has been doing bad, but when he turns to look at you, you have tears in your eyes.

“i’m gonna cry.” you say, your voice wobbles as you wipe away at your tears and he laughs, holding your hands to stop you, “good tears or bad tears?” he teases.

you sniffle, “good tears.”

“doll.” he chides, and the realization that you two are about to get married in three months, that you’re already engaged to him, that you’re his and that you will always be his, dawns on him.

he smiles and pecks your lips softly, “i love you for the long term.”

you laugh and smile and peck his lips back,

“i love you for the long term too.”

[luveline]

there’s this scene in the office where pam falls asleep on jim during a conference at work, he doesn’t move her at all and even stays until after the meeting is over just to let her sleep!!! do u think u could write something similar for our annoyingly sweet coworker! james?? love u

love u <3 —James may not like you, but he’s a good pillow. fem, 1k

“Today we’re gonna talk about workplace satisfaction.” 

James crosses his arms over his chest. The yawn he suppresses threatens to make his jaw crack, his eyes heavy not a minute into the presentation. 

“I know all about that,” Sirius says under his breath. 

Remus needles him in the arm with his elbow. It might’ve been the best dumb luck in the world to get to work with his best friends, but not even their joking can make this meeting less mind-numbing. He covers his mouth with his hand and settles in. 

“We sent around a survey this last week and we’ve had everyone’s responses. The results are anonymous, but we do want to touch on where we, as a company, are going wrong. Our first category was day to day working.” 

You yawn. James turns his head to watch you, and with the lights dimmed, he’s not sure you notice. You cover your mouth with both hands, your eyes failing to reopen for a few long, admittedly humorous seconds. He likes how your lashes look stuck together, and the way you rub your nose afterward. It’s cute. 

What’s not cute is your shaking knees. You press them together, but you’re sitting awkwardly, and they tremble at the strange position. James wonders what it is you’re upto that’s making you so tired lately. You seem down; he stapled his fingertip earlier in a crazy mishap of which he was at no fault and you didn’t even laugh. You took his hand and pulled out the staple. 

You’ve been acting super weird. 

“So about half of you expressed that you feel like you aren’t allowed the breaks that you need. While it’s encouraged you all take a ten minute break from your screens every other hour, you feel penalised when you do, and we want to change that. Do any of you guys have anything to say? This is the time to speak your thoughts.” 

Remus raises his hand. James loves him more than anyone in the world. “Whenever I try to take a break around lunchtime, you ask me if I can wait until lunch. I don’t think needing breaks from the screen should wait, or detract from my legal break time.” 

“What we’re trying to do is encourage you guys to make the most of your working time without hurting yourselves.” 

A great non answer. You make a soft sound and James turns with a smile, expecting to find you smothering a laugh, and instead seeing a great eyeful of your neck. Your head has fallen back, your back slouching under the weight of yourself as your leg begins to drift toward his. 

Poor girl, he thinks. 

“What about the kitchen tap?” someone asks. 

Your boss sighs. “What about it?” 

James leans down to be your height. He can imagine the neck ache, the stiffness, and so when he brings his arm up to touch the shoulder closest to his, it’s with sympathy, if not fondness. 

You make another soft sound like a snuffle and rest your face on his shoulder.

James looks away. Looks back, tracing the soft roundness of your forehead, your nose, your cheeks and your lips, pouting ever so slightly in your dozing. He’s thought often that you were awarded a face too sweet for who you are. What evil demon are you, to treat him like he’s stupid and to smile at him in your way? Sometimes he gets so mad at you for it that he thinks about grabbing you, and yanking your face to his, and then he feels so guilty for wanting to grab you at all that he leaves your mug where it is in the cupboard. It’s not nice to want to kiss you with any sort of force. 

It’s not nice wanting to kiss you at all, because it isn’t a joke, he really doesn’t like you sometimes. 

But what’s not to like about you now? 

Lately he feels this weird bridge forming between you, like you could be civil, or better. You rub your nose into his shoulder and he holds his breath, worried his moving chest will jolt you. Something must be really getting to you if you’re sleeping at work. He should ask if you’re alright, when you’re awake. 

He doesn’t think he can. 

“Alright, guys. Let’s talk about customer service.” 

You’re demure. James thinks it and bites his own tongue, hard and accidental, flinching at the sudden pain. You mumble against him and he quickly stills, his heart pounding. Fuck, he hates this. Why does he feel like this? He didn’t mean to jostle you. 

Your hand curls around his arm like you’re telling him to stay still. 

He should take a photo of you for blackmail purposes. If not blackmail, mild humiliation. He can email it to everyone before you wake up, zoom in on your nose pressed rough to his arms, your deep exhales warm on his shirt. 

James rubs your elbow for reasons he can’t understand.

The meeting is torturously long, inanely boring. You rouse when your coworkers clap politely at the end of the presentation, James’ hand now returned to his leg. He looks resolutely at the front of the room, your gaze a heat on his cheek, before you look down and rub your eyes. 

“Sorry, James,” you murmur. 

“It’s okay. Don’t mention it.” 

That’s what’s best, right? You have these insane moments of togetherness and never, ever talk about them. 

“Did I miss much?” you ask. 

Pillow and minute keeper? James doesn’t think so. “Should’ve paid attention.” 

“Did he talk about the tap in the kitchen?” 

“If you were meant to know, you’d know, hm?” You yawn and blink to yourself all soft with sleep, and James debates giving in for longer than he’d care to admit. “He did talk about the tap,” he says. 

“Is he fixing it?” you ask. 

“Couldn’t hear him over your snoring, sorry.”