#big ocean one shots

[yawn-junn]

⚝Hyujin bf HeadCannons⚝

⚝Special Thanks Too: Hyunjin, Big O!cean

⚝Note: I've been obsessed over big ocean (I have a fan page for them-) anyways I wanted to spread them to this audience so I think this is a good way for it

⚝CW: Mentions of jealousy : mentions of kissing : mentions of eating : mentions of relationships : mentions of hearing aids : mentions of being deaf

⚝Taglist: no one yet but if you want to be added let me know

04/26/24

⚝He loves hugs he loves the warm feeling of a hug to be more specific

⚝He prefers cheek or forehead kisses over everything else especially if it's just a normal peck but if he wants to show you how much he really loves you then he'll kiss youre lips.

⚝If you knew sign or was interested in learning he'd get super excited, I mean like huge smile and everything his voice would subconsciously raise.

⚝During his debut he was super stressed, I imagine him forgetting to charge his hearing aid so when you'd remind him he'd get a little sheepish.

⚝If he can't hug you he'd prefer hand holding, that's just so he can make sure you're ok and still with him.

⚝He often rubs his thumb over you're skin whatever part he can reach, it goes hand in hand with the hand holding and the hugs just to make sure you were ok and didn't leave.

⚝Sometimes especially when he's super nervous he won't pay close attention which causes you to repeat a lot of things.

⚝He doesn't judge you on anything even if it's super weird. he'll be super supportive about it, unless it can hurt you then he'll put his foot down.

⚝When people find out he's deaf they tend to ask lots of questions or just straight up bully him, when you did non of that and just accepted it he swore he heard wedding bells.

⚝Even before dating when he found out you're favorite food he made sure to bring it everytime he saw you.

⚝When he's jealous he's more self conscious so you'll have to remind him that it's ok, and you love him.

⚝He loves to tickle I mean if you're just sitting there haven't even done anything to him or provoked anything he'll jump on you and just tickle you, he loves to hear you're laughter.

[daydreamerdrew]

Fantastic Comics (1939) #3

[ltlemon]

pacing back and forth. y'know. its not out of the question for whatever plans are happening to involve cyborg noodle. if you think about it.

[bettys-redwinesupernova]

I’M NOT HIM

rafe cameron x fem!reader

( mood board does NOT depict readers appearance !! )

SUMMARY: in which rafe snaps at reader during a heated argument and she flinches, her past trauma resurfacing. rafe breaking the main promise he made to her: to not be anything like her father.

based on an ask i got that i lost </3 i hope the anon who requested it finds this, and this its what you asked for! i’m a little rusty with one-shots so just a short one to ease me into things again! :)

WARNINGS: angst to fluff, arguing, cursing, mentions of past childhood abuse (reader), mentions of a gun/brief mention of violence, trauma responses, crying. (lmk if i missed anything!!)

WORD COUNT: 900 words

THIRD PERSON +

Rafe Cameron wasn’t the kind of man anyone would describe as soft. Not with the sharp edge in his voice, the perpetual storm behind his ocean eyes, and the way his knuckles bore scars from fights he barely remembered. He had spent his life battling demons, most of them inherited from Ward Cameron, and those fights had shaped him into someone who took no prisoners.

But with Y/N, none of that mattered.

Y/N was everything Rafe wasn’t—gentle, warm, full of an optimism he couldn’t begin to understand but adored nonetheless. She radiated light, the kind that made him want to shield her from the darkness in himself. For two years, she’d been his anchor, the one person who saw past the volatile exterior to the man buried beneath. And for two years, Rafe had promised himself that he would never hurt her.

But promises don’t always hold in the heat of the moment.

The argument had started over something Y/N had brought up before: the gun in Rafe’s apartment. She hated it, hated what it represented, and hated the memories it dragged up for her.

“Rafe, I told you,” she said, her voice quiet but firm. “I don’t feel safe with it here. Please.”

Rafe, already wound tight from dealing with his father’s latest scheme and the growing weight of “the business,” felt his patience snap like a rubber band stretched too far.

“It’s not a big deal, Y/N,” he muttered, pacing the living room. “It’s not like I’m walking around with it in my hand. It’s locked up, alright? Just drop it.”

Y/N didn’t drop it. She rarely did when something mattered to her. “It is a big deal, Rafe. I asked you to get rid of it. I thought you understood how—”

“I said fucking drop it!” Rafe’s voice thundered through the room, loud enough to make the walls seem smaller.

The words echoed in the sudden silence, bouncing off the tension between them. Rafe froze, immediately regretting the way he’d shouted, but it was too late.

Y/N stood there, trembling, her wide eyes glassy with unshed tears. Her lip wobbled as she tried to hold herself together, but Rafe saw the cracks forming.

“Baby…” he said softly, taking a step toward her, reaching out his hand.

She flinched. Actually flinched.

It was like a knife to his chest, sharp and unrelenting. He knew her past—knew about her father’s temper and the way it had scarred her. He knew that shouting brought her back to those dark, suffocating memories.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice thick with panic. He reached out again, but she backed away, tears spilling down her cheeks.

“I—I can’t,” she choked out before rushing to the bedroom and shutting the door behind her.

Rafe rushed after her before collapsing onto the floor, pressing his back against the wall beside the bedroom door. He could hear her quiet sobs on the other side, each one driving the guilt deeper into his chest.

He buried his face in his hands. “I’m so sorry, baby” he murmured, voice breaking. “I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean to scare you. Please, just… let me make it right.”

Her sobs continued, muffled but heartbreaking. Rafe rested his head against the door, tears streaming down his face. He could picture her inside, curled up in the corner, just like she used to do as a little girl to shield herself from her father’s rage. A place he promised her she wouldn't ever have to go back to.

“I’m not him,” he whispered, as much to himself as to her. “I’ll never be him. I swear. I’ll never hurt you.”

Minutes turned into half an hour, but Rafe didn’t move. He felt he didn’t deserve to move.

When the door finally opened, Rafe almost didn’t notice at first. He’d been staring at the floor, lost in the heaviness of his own shame. But then Y/N was there, stepping out quietly and kneeling beside him.

Without a word, she crawled into his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face in his shoulder. Her touch was tentative, as if she wasn’t entirely sure she could trust it yet, but Rafe held her like she was the only thing keeping him alive.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered over and over, his voice cracking as he clung to her. “I didn’t mean it. I swear, Y/N/N. I’m so sorry.”

Y/N didn’t respond right away. She just held him, letting his warmth chase away the cold that had settled in her chest. Eventually, she pulled back just enough to look at him, her tear-streaked face breaking his heart all over again.

“Please don’t yell at me like that again,” she said softly, her voice trembling.

Rafe cupped her face gently, his thumb brushing away her tears. “I won’t,” he promised, his tone fierce with conviction. “Never again. I’ll get rid of the gun. I’ll do whatever it takes to make this right. Just… don’t be afraid of me.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” Y/N said, her voice barely audible. “I’m afraid of the person you might become.”

Rafe nodded, the weight of her words sinking deep. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, holding her tightly again. “I’ll be better,” he whispered. “For you, I’ll be better.”

In that moment, Rafe vowed to prove it. Not with words, but with actions—starting with the gun.

(dividers by @kodaswrld <3)

betty’s notes ˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

ahhhh my first one-shot in FOREVER :’) it’s a short one and really sad and angsty but it felt like the quickest ask to whip out, and angst is easier for me to write atm :)

i’m so excited to start with the other requests, and please don’t stop requesting! i plan on writing most stuff 1,500 words +, this was just a short little ask so please request with as MUCH detail as possible <3

master list will be updated soon! but for now, to keep track of my works check my personalised tags that are below such as: #bettys asks!! ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ and #bettys work!! ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ or my personalised tags for characters !!

[whorelaud]

OFF LIMITS – rafe cameron ¡ (01)

social media & irl AU !

pairing brother's best friend!rafe cameron x brat!reader summary you slide into a random boy's dms on instagram, anything but expecting him to end up being your brother's best friend, let alone the person you'll be spending your summer vacation with. while resisting Rafe and his lingering gazes was an option, you found yourself in the constant loop of crossing the line; said line being your brother. ch warnings none !

NAVIGATION. series masterlist | 01 ¡ 02

“Wake up, we’re here.” Ryan nudged your side, observing as your parents unloaded the trunk, arguing over the amount of luggage each one of you brought. “Get up, Bug, mom is gettin’ mad.” 

Ryan gave you a harsh push, disturbing your slumber as you jolted up from your seat. You blinked the sleep out of your eyes, eyeing your surroundings with haze, a mere attempt to make sense of the new setting that encircled the Airbnb your parents ranted. 

It was a beautiful view, the sight of the beach not too far away, ocean breeze heading in your direction. Ryan’s figure instantly filled your vision, earning a low grumble out of you. You tucked your hair out of your face, stretching out your arms over your head.

“You slept through the whole ride.” Your brother scoffed, gathering the crumbled candy wrappers from the cup holder. “Help mom! She’s really mad, why’d you bring so many luggages?” 

“Don’t piss me off,” you mumbled, kicking his knee, the gesture causing the latter to stumble back. “Move.” 

You shuffled out of your seat, hopping out of the car. The place was surprisingly big– not for a family of four, that’s for sure. An unfamiliar car was parked in the driveway, the sight earning a puzzled expression out of you. 

“Is someone else here?” You questioned, attention shifting to Ryan, who was busy tidying your side of the vehicle. “Who’s that car for?” 

“Oh, you didn’t know?” Ryan shot back, furrowing his eyebrows with confusion. “What, you thought we’d be here on our own?” 

“Wasn’t that what we had in plans?” You mumbled, strolling towards the creaked door. You peaked your head inside, an audible gasp escaping your throat when you spotted your parents chatting with a middle aged couple, whom you would assume were the guests staying with you. Their identities remain a mystery as they were faced away, unable to recognize them with only the back of their heads. You turned to face Ryan, whispering your next sentence. “There’s people inside.” 

“Yeah, no shit.” He rolled his eyes, shutting the door to the car. He approached you, squeezing by as he let himself inside. “You think I’m spending the next two months stuck with only you? Hell no.” 

“God, we should’ve let you rot on campus.” You groaned, following behind him. You remained as quiet as physically possible, not wanting to capture the elders’ attention, aware of the conversation they planned on dragging you to. 

While walking up the stairs, you winced, as the suitcase you carried collided into the wood on your way up, creating a thud. Your gaze shifted to where your parents stood, a sigh of relief escaping your throat when you noticed they were still accompanied by the couple to their side. 

You carefully settled your suitcase down, dragging it along as you observed each room, deciding which one would suit you best. You came to a halt once one caught your eye, growing intrigued as you opened the door all the way through, revealing the layout of the furnitured space. 

“Pretty.” You whispered to yourself, tracing the designed light switch with your fingers. 

“Not bad,” Ryan replied, his presence startling you. “Good choice, this room is actually mine.” 

“I was here first!” Your face twisted with annoyance, watching as your brother leaned against the wall, now facing you. “It’s my room, not yours.”

“Oh, we’re going there?” He warned, cocking his head to the side. “I’ll tell dad about the time you sneaked out every day for an entire month, and made me cover for you whenever you got in trouble.”

“That was four years ago,” you reasoned, huffing at his ridiculous threat. “Besides, you’ve done worse. Remember all the marijuana you hid in my room? Or did we forget about that?” 

“Okay– that was–” Ryan stammered, slumping his shoulders as he rolled his eyes. “I’ll kill you if you tell anyone about that.”

“Whatever, get out of my room.” You shoved his arm, the contact earning a dramatic gasp out of him. “Go complain somewhere else, I’m not giving you this room.”

“C’mon, Bug!” He whined, resisting the hands pressing to his back, forcing him out of the room. “There’s better rooms, why do you want this one specifically?!”  

“Probably for the same reason you do.” You exclaimed, sighing once you gave Ryan one last push, the action causing him to stumble out into the narrow hallway. “And stop calling me that, I’ll kill you if you refer to me as Bug in front of everybody.” 

“Everyone calls you Bug.” He clicked his teeth, fixing the collar of his shirt. “I forget that your name isn’t Bug sometimes, you know, jus’ used to it.” 

“Are you trying to distract me right now? ‘Cause it’s not working.” You forced a tight-lipped smile across your face, earning a groan out of Ryan. “Busy yourself with something else, I don’t have time to pamper you.” 

“‘Kay, fuck you then.” He spat out, flipping you off as he walked away. 

You shut the door with a chuckle, taunted by your brother’s lash out. You placed your luggage on the bed, growing confused when you noticed the bed was slightly undone, indicating someone clearly had been there. You brushed it off, thinking it was Ryan’s doing, as you were too exhausted to further process it. 

You searched through your suitcase, acquiring your everything-shower bag. You set it to the side, retrieving a clothing set, one suitable to be seen in, and comfortable enough to get you through the night. 

Once you had everything you needed, you grabbed your belongings, freezing when footsteps echoed through your ears. You were painfully aware that this was not Ryan, as you would’ve heard him come in with the click of the door. 

You aimed for your bag, equipping yourself for the hit you planned to swing, now that you sensed your life being at risk. Nothing could’ve prepared you for what you had coming as you swiftly turned around, a ragged breath escaping your parted lips at the sight of a certain someone. 

Mere inches away from you stood Rafe, the Rafe Cameron whom you have messaged a few hours from now. You couldn’t believe your eyes, instantly brushing this off as a dream, because there’s no way in hell he was there, half naked, with only a towel hanging low around his hips. A blank expression remained plastered across his face, not too astonished by your presence.

A nervous gulp dried your throat, gaze following the water drop trailing down his exposed chest, on full display, revealing his muscular figure. God, his arms, the photos weren’t doing him justice, because besides his toned body, the man was gorgeous. 

His eyes were a radiant shade of blue, nose slightly pointy, as well as his pink lips, that you wouldn’t describe as big, but just the right size, as you wanted nothing but to lean forward and kiss him, ceasing the unnecessary distance between you. 

You shook the thoughts off, clutching into stuff that you had in hand, instantly growing nervous by the latter as he took a step forward, now towering over you, making you feel small under under his gaze. You glanced up at him, shifting your vision back to his chest when you caught him already staring at you. 

Rafe broke into a grin, amused by how flustered you were, nothing compared to how brave you were over text. He remained in front of you for a moment, awaiting a response out of you, a question perhaps. 

“I…” ah, there it was. “I didn’t know you were in here.” 

“That’s okay,” he reassured, voice dripping with sweetness, that the moment he spoke, you found yourself melting in the spot. “Look at me.” 

Your face flushed with heat at the statement, shifting your gaze back to his face, breath knocking out of your chest when his eyes locked with yours, creating a mess out of you. He leveled himself with your body, adjusting his position where he stood now that he caught your attention. 

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” he hushed out, grogginess visible through his tone. “Bug, was it?” 

Yeah, had you known Rafe Cameron was spending the next two months with you, you would not have shown up, aware of the consequences that came with your feelings. 

How were you supposed to set a limit for yourself when he’s there, existing and looking so attractive while doing it?

a/n prepapre to be sick of me theyre my new obsession!! also i PROMISE i have something planned for the whole bug nickname pls give it a chance ehebhe ei hope you enjoyed wheww im so nervous to publish this

TAGLIST @greyswaren @slut-4-gojo @depthsofdespairr @littlelamy @lilithblackkk @starkeydolly @mattyskies @percysley @aariahnaa @jaklvbub @inlovewithdob @ilovefiction4lmen @theeternaloptimistt @maybejj @icaqttt @idgasb

lmk if u wanna be added >__< !!

[nemesyaaa]

a long way from the playground // rafe cameron x reader

summary ; when you met rafe on the playground of the school, he was such a crybaby but you were there for him as his most beloved (and unique) friend until that accident which happened in high school.

seven years after that argument, you met him again. and mostly, seven years after, the crybaby that you know became the big boy that everyone knows.

genre ; childhood bestfriends to strangers to lovers (literally my favorite trope of the world), slight of angst, fluff, and smut. he fell first (and alone at first lmfao...)but she fell harder trope. one-shot.

warnings ; argument, family issues, mentions of cheating, smut, miscommunication, mentions of anger issues, fear of abandonment/being alone, jealousy, first time/virginity, past/present, violence ?( reader slapping rafe), being pogue/kook is not a big deal, mentions of rafe's mother.

author's note : it's 4k. was inspired by eighteen by one direction and to build a home by the cinematic orchestra. trying myself on something soft and kinda angst (but more in a bittersweet way.)

rafe was not always being the big boy everyone knew. it had taken seven years between the two of you for him to become stronger and more mature. when you met him, he was a whiny little boy who loved to fight, but cried every time you treated his wounds. you always managed to make him smile when you placed a bandage on the bleeding bruise and promised him that if he calmed down, the injury would disappear.

you started being there for him from the moment you were just seven years old.you understood that rafe needed someone in his life, because no one was there for him. you never understood why, but people loved to say, even the teacher and his family that there was something weird about him.

you heard the others spreading rumors about it a couple times. it was so easy to criticize others rather than judge yourself. at that moment, rafe didn't scare anyone. it was not because he had the prestigious cameron name that it made his classmates fear him.

he was like everyone else, there was no kook or pogue. everyone was too young to be different, the prey could be anyone in the group, but the leader always remained the same.

the first time you and rafe cameron were really close was on mother's day. the whole class had been assigned to make a gift and in the most saddest way possible, everyone had a mother to give their present to. everyone except Rafe, but you didn't know about that before the accident.

having finished making your own gift, you surprised your friend from behind and he dropped his vase on the ground. you had never felt so sad in your entire life when you saw the broken glass on the floor. you could clearly feel your heart cracking in your ribcage, your veins freezing, and your breath dying in your throat, the hot rush of tears inside your eyes.

"rafe, i'm really sorry. I...really, I didn't mean to..."

“it’s okay, y/n. I didn’t have anyone to give it to anyway...”

his voice cracked slightly in his knotted throat as he managed to not show you how hurt he was. he was trying to be strong, and not a crybaby — that nickname that you given him every time. and his eyes had become so full and wet with tears, the blue ocean of his eyes drowning in the hot little boy whines.

rafe cameron was a broken child, not just since you broke his vase. no, always. since he no longer had his mother. and you realized it in such a cruel way that you wanted to disappear.

he had so many tears, and you felt like they could flow down his cheeks forever, that even an eternity wouldn't be enough to wipe them away. and even if you had been a siren, you would never have been able to swim in water as salty as his present sadness.

"my mother...left me..." he admitted softly between sniffles, his nose red and leaky.

you felt bad but you took him against you in a tender hug, and placed your hand on his back to start caressing him gently, until he was soothed. "but you have me. and i will not leave. you know rafe, when i love someone, it's serious. i sincerely would like to make sure that you never feel alone again."

you looked into his eyes. you couldn't be more sincere.

and maybe it was from that day that rafe cameron fell in love with you, and he had never felt so good because he never thought that love could be so heartwarming and kind.

if you thought he would be the type to hide his feelings, or run away from them, you were wrong. it was the first time he felt this comfort, this happiness and he needed to show it to you. even for his family he did not have such great affection.

he loved giving you gifts. he had seen and heard that the girls really liked those kind of things so every day since Mother's Day, you received flowers, boxes of chocolates, photos of yourself accompanied by notes, volumes of your favorite book saga, CD's of your favorite singers. rafe couldn't let go of you.

since you didn't love him back, he fed on the affection and attention you gave him.

rafe took everything you had to give him - a look, a smile, a kiss on the cheek, a hug, an earphone for the two of you to share, a day in your room watching movies, a ride on the bike of your big brother, an afternoon playing in the sea.

there was nothing strange about him, nothing like the rumors could say.

“rafe, you didn’t have to give me that.” you exclaimed when you saw a necklace with his initials.

“but I wanted to. Don’t you like it?”

"I love..."

Rafe would have loved to hear that you were talking about him saying those words but he was also so impatient. every boy his age had a girlfriend, and he wanted you to be his. he was not an exception to the eager youth.

what was the point of being rich, of being able to have everything if you weren't included among his treasures? he wanted you, his only friend and the only girl who mattered to him.

But also, he was lost because he was experiencing one-sided love, because above all, it hurt so much not to be loved in return, to be in love with someone to love them to a point where it mattered more than himself.

the first time you kissed rafe cameron on the lips was in high school. you were drunk, you hadn't done it on purpose.

you threw up right after, but he never blamed you. he knew it was the alcohol, not him. he even held your hair while you vomited everything into the bowl. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry...I..."

"I'm not mad. you're just drinking too much. I should have been more careful. you know i can't be angry with you."

yes, rafe had anger issues, serious problems managing his hard feelings. sometimes he even scared you. sometimes you even felt like he would be able to kill someone.

rafe’s hands could be deadly but whenever they were on you, pressed to your cheeks, against your hips, on your thighs, inside your hair, on your neck, they were always calm and gentle.

after that, you would never have guessed that the first time rafe cameron had touched himself, it was thinking about your lips on his mouth, something so small and pathetic but it was enough to make him so vulnerable and unable to think about anything else.

he imagined your pretty lips around his cock instead of his useless large hand, your wet open mouth pumping him as your tongue covered every inch of his growing girth. and he hated himself for having impure thoughts about you, because you looked like an angel. he had no desire to make you dirty but oh fuck — he had cum on his stomach, spurting the warm loads painting his flesh. and god he wished you were there to make him pure again.

after that, rafe had tried many times to get you out of his head. he thought of porn. but he imagined your body, your voice, your moans in place of all these actresses, and that was the only way he could come.

dating girls but it never worked. you were always the one he wanted out of all the ones that existed.

distance from you but he always came back, because without you it had always been like being in the dark. and how could he lives in darkness without the one who gave him light?

but above all, you were the one who understood him best, who always managed to soothe him, and above all who never judged him in his moments of weakness.

you were his home, where he took refuge when he had a problem with his father, when he could no longer stand Sarah's presence, when Rose was getting on his nerves, when Topper and Kelce were behaving like idiots. because you were the only person who couldn't make his existence even more shitty.

— now it's been over ten years since rafe cameron was in love with you, but only seven since you disappeared from his life.

you had another life now, a boyfriend who cheated on you and who was always angry with you, and pushing you under and under. you were stuck with the wrong guy.

you had always dreamed of being an artist, you had specialized in painting in college hoping to pursue your dream.

rafe had always accompanied you in that dream, volunteering as a model for all your portraits but you always ended up throwing all the drawings away because you were too perfectionist. for you, it was never good enough. but for your best friend, it was a masterpiece, the work of a true painter.

you drew in your spare time, but each time, you ended up drawing rafe's face. you had no idea why he was your only inspiration even though you had a boyfriend, why it was always him who motivated you to continue painting.

it was strange how rafe had made a huge impact in your life, the only boy you actually had.

— a year later, on a huge impulse, you offered your art to a museum that regularly held exhibitions. you had made arrangements with the director and tried to find rafe's contact two nights after.

you searched for his social media, last names in the directory, asked his friends but nothing had helped you. you had spent a week trying to find it but it felt like you had lost him forever, that it was like a flower that you should have cherished instead of letting it perish.

you had been a monster. you abandoned him...like his mother. like everyone else.

every time you thought about him, you always ended up crying. if it wasn't love because you were sure you didn't love him, why did it hurt so much? why did it kill you so much?

rafe had never been capable of hurting you, and yet you had stabbed him without even looking at him. you had let him give you his heart, and you had stepped on it. and maybe that was why he couldn't fall in love anymore because you had ruined all his chances of being with someone else.

rafe had confessed his feelings to you while you were in his room, talking about everything and nothing, the future and the past like children. he had grown up. he was no longer the little whiny child you had known but a big boy, the one who now had big arms to protect you, hands to dry your tears, body to warm you.

“i feel like you want to tell me something, big boy. so say it, don't make me wait or beg for it.” you teased him by stopping the movie you were watching under the blankets.

"If you weren't so blind and stupid, I wouldn't have to be so embarrassed. i really have to do all the work all the time. "

“Come on, confess it. Do you want me to close my eyes?”

“ close that eyes, and shut that mouth too. ” he nodded, and the minute you closed your eyes, his mouth found yours to kiss you.

“what does that mean?”

“are you being stupid on purpose?” he replied. "It wasn't a mistake for me in the club...I mean, I really liked it like now. Don't make me say it, y/n. "

you were embarrassed. you didn't like rafe. finally you loved him like a best friend. he had always been the friend you dreamed of, not the one you wanted to end up with.

In contrast, rafe always believed that a girl could never break his heart. but you had shown him today that he was wrong, because you had managed to hurt his feelings, to make them so depressing.

you had this control on him that he had exactly over everyone else.

"Am I still the crybaby I was to you? I've changed. "

"that has nothing to do with it. rafe, you can't love someone and think that they will love you back. love doesn't work like that, and sometimes it doesn't even work. "

“you love someone else, right?” his tone was now louder, becoming more aggressive.

"I...n-n..."

"you love someone? who is it? tell me who it is? or don't tell me, I'll find out eventually. do you think that guy deserves you more than me ? "

“rafe, you’re scaring me. don’t yell at me.”

"why? you have the right to reject me but I don't have the right to raise my voice with you... let me laugh...since you like joking with me now.” there was a sick smile on his face that you hated, and made you shake.

"Rafe, I'm not rejecting you..."

“oh, y/n, please don’t lie to me. you’ve never been a hypocrite, so don’t be one now. don't be mean sweetheart because i would die rather than hurting you. just admit that you have someone, that you like playing with my feelings. do you think you're superior to me ? well, don't forget that i'm the only guy that give you attention so you're not that special. i made you special.”

"you win, rafe cameron. congratulations. i'm leaving."

you stood up towards the door but he rushed toward you and blocked your way.

“rafe. move.”

"asking like that? oh no, sweetheart. I've seen you be nicer than that, so you're going to give me the pleasure of asking me with better words."

“don’t make me push you. ”

he laughed so hard that your ego had been hurt. "because you think i'm still the weak, whiny cameron from the past that you used to manipulate ? tskk tskk, wrong. it's over. i hold the power in the relationship now. "

“rafe, I don’t want us to argue.”

“ oh yea ? so why do you want to leave? give me just one good reason at least !”

“you have to let me go.”

"and if I refuse? ah yes, I forgot, my family probably loves you more than me so they will surely come and help you if you cry or scream. so, please, show me how much my family hates and doesn't care about me. ”

you felt the sadness in his voice despite the loud tone, and the condescension.

"you can't leave. what kind of girl are you? the kind who likes to break hearts?”

it was your turn to be mad at rafe so you slapped him. louder than you expected because his face had turned against the door, and a red bruise had marked his skin. you regretted your action but you didn't apologize. because rafe had to learn to respect you.

" excuse me ? I was always there for you, when you were in pain, when you were angry with the whole world, when your father was so cruel to you that I had nightmares because I was afraid that will be the reason i will lost you one day, when you were crying, when you were fighting, I was there when there was absolutely no one for you, I was there when you were the little boy that no one wanted. You have absolutely no right to blame me for anything and consider this slap at the end of my sentence because I will not apologize. I have always been nice to you. so don't make me regret this. so yes, well done rafe, you managed to ruin everything. I'm sorry that you are in love with me and unfortunately I don't have this feelings for you, but now you lost me, and all the chances you had for us to end up together so you can sequester me here if you want, but know that even if I stayed in this room until the end of my days, I would still have no feelings for you, not a fucking single one. “

he was angry, his nostrils were flaring, and his fists were clenched against his thighs. you only had to see the swelling of his veins around his temples and around his neck to feel that it was literally boiling inside his body.

"you haven't changed. you've just grown. you'll cry when my back is turned.”

— back in the present, you wore a pretty dress to your art exhibition. you chose "blue eyes" as a subject with multiple paintings representing Rafe's gaze in different expressions. you had even managed to capture his look when he was in love with you.

so, you hoped that this evening he would come, that he had accepted your invitation, that your letter had arrived safely at its destination. you had received so many compliments but none had made you happy, none had managed to really make you smile, even those from your boyfriend who you had found in the hallway kissing someone else.

you didn't even cry because you knew it. it was just more horrible to see him in real life because he looked so happy.

“get out of here.” you reacted without even shouting.

“baby wait, I can explain everything….”

"explain what to me? your explanations are stuffed in this girl's mouth right now."

"I'm not going to leave." he replied.

“ oh yes you will leave. and if I see a single tear on her face, surely not alive. but yea, dare you to stay.” a cold voice growled and warned behind your back that you recognized it by heart.

you turned to admire rafe who stood in front of you, still just as handsome, and above all taller. you wanted to be a pure and shed tears just to see your ex-boyfriend suffer but you were too busy rejoicing in rafe's presence.

“Who are you?” your ex-boyfriend replied.

"oh if I told you, I think it would break your heart but you don't seem to have one so I'll be honest. I'm definitely the only boy she likes. i'm sorry if she made you think that she has something for you. but believe me, will be nothing contrary to what i will do to you if your ass is still here in those free seconds i let you run.. "

“raf…”

he shushed you with his mouth. "You'll have your moment, but wait. this is a conversation for boys, and unless you're hiding a dick between your legs, you're not in."

you smiled at his stupidity. the two boys had gone out, and Rafe had returned a few minutes later.

“Oh my god, you didn’t cry,” you teased him gently about his whiny past, clapping your hands.

“Was I crying that much?”

“Like a baby.”

"but I have changed...and..."

you felt like the words were really struggling to come out. his voice was blocked and he didn't look you in the eye. he scratched the back of his neck. "I'm sorry. I was totally stupid."

“apology accepted.”

“does that mean I have the right to a kiss?”

When you were little, you always gave Rafe a kiss on the cheek when he apologized. the memory made you smile tenderly.

you stood on your tiptoes to reach his lips with your mouth, and he lifted you by your ass to help you.

“you were always mine, baby. even when you left, even when he was here.”

“ because it’s as much to love you as to hate you, rafe cameron.”

“Is that why you dedicated this entire exhibition to me? I’m flattered.”

“you didn’t leave my head even though you left my life.”

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you either. and I still think of you now. "

“ah yes? and what do your thoughts say about me?”

"that I finally have the girl I've always waited for. and that I still want her just as much."

"How about you show me how much...I mean...not with your lips, big boy. It's time to show me how much you've grown.”

you had gone to his hotel room after the party. he had accompanied you during the rest of the event, never taking his eyes off you as if he was afraid of losing you again. he even felt himself tighten his arm around your waist. he didn't keep his hands in his pocket, because you were there. and above all that you finally loved him.

it was beautiful. you had been the first person rafe cameron had loved, the first person he had broken his heart, and also, the first person who had loved him. you were destined to each others.

in his room, you were surprised to see how gentle he was with you, that he had softly placed your body on his sheets like a princess. he took off his t-shirt and you salivated just seeing his muscular chest, his arms turned into huge biceps, his flat stomach turned into voluminous abs with a magnificent v-line. “ It seems like you worked hard to please me. ”

“ oh babe, don't waste your drool on yourself when you can literally splash it on my dick. but maybe my girl wanted it dry”

“ you're really big now. ”

“ wait, something bigger is coming at you. ”

you were in love with the way your boy had become a man. you were proud of him, you undid his belt, and pulled him by the leather of the accessory before sliding it down and wrapping it around his neck to push him towards you and kiss him again. rafe was so desperate for you, he was hard in his pants to the point where it was painful, and even his tongue against yours was lost in a messy burst of both of you saliva.

he had spread your legs, and removed his pants, before pulling you against him by the thighs to bring you back against his hips.

“spit.” he held out his hand to let you spit on his palm and coated his hard cock with your drool, using your saliva as some kind of lube.

he started touching himself quickly, slowing up and down, a tight grip around his veiny and rocking length. you placed your fingers against his to accompany him in his movements, while devouring him with your eyes.

“fuck, you’re too good for me.”

“so make me as bad as you.” you responded by separating the two lips of your cunt with your fingers to show him the way. “fuck me. now.”

“did you have sex with him?”

“no…” you admitted shyly. “I’m still a virgin. Does that bother you?”

“I’ve already had sex, does that bother you?”

"no, because I'm sure you've never been able to cum without thinking about me. You're so obsessed with me.”

he pushed his leaking and wet tip against your soaked folds, rubbing himself lightly on them. “can I ?”

“oh rafe, it's only if you don’t do it that we’re going to have a problem.” you laughed gently.

and it didn't take more for him to split your pussy with his throbbing dick to startly making his way inside you. he had done it gently, partly because he didn't want to hurt you, but because you were incredibly tight. he held your hands, before placing his lips on yours, and driving you crazy with slow thrusts, his hips gently bucking against yours.

his cock stretched you softly, moving back and forth and sliding inside your canal that surrounded every inch of his dick. once he felt your body relax, he fasted up the pace, your moans automatically becoming louder. you had never been fucked until now, but you understood now, why people liked it.

rafe was completely buried in you from his tip, to the pelvis which was slamming against your thighs and the mattress. he couldn’t be more in love with you. you were perfect.

he loved hearing your screams from across the room, knowing that he was the only one to make you moans like that. you were completely wet, and your dripping pussy helped him pound you quicker, and especially harder. he couldn't get enough of your face completely ruined by tears and pleasure, but especially of your walls squishing him until he felt his own stomach twitching by your trembling body sticking to his, the way your part convulsing around him as the strokes went deeper and deeper.

the bottom lip of your mouth was covered in your own saliva, your back arched against the sheets, and your entire body stimulated, spasms covering it, and forcing you to squirm in every direction.

his blue eyes were lost in your gaze. you didn’t know how but he always managed to go further, hitting every sensitive gummy and soaked spot only to ram it again.

you let out a muffled and depraved sound when his cock slammed into your insides all the way to your stomach. you threw your head back, completely losing control.

“I'm never going to stop and you never going to leave if you keep giving me those eyes. don't feel dizzy now, it's just the beginning. ” he blurted out as he continued to pound you, making your pussy dripping even more all over him, leaving him no choice but to speed up his movements to avoid any waste of your fluids. “ i really want to fuck you all the night. don't make that face, you made me wait for more than fucking ten years, it's just now so fair. ”

you had already had an orgasm, but his energy had doubled. you didn't know what time you stopped, but when you woke up, you were completely exhausted like your body had been used all night.

you wondered how different your relationship was going to be now, and if rafe was going to take responsibility for everything he did last night. you had too many questions, and not enough answers. you took a shower while waiting for him to wake up.

when you finally had the chance to have the famous conversation, you asked him. “do you regret it?”

"that you didn't let me do this way before? yes. for doing it last night? no. another question, babe?"

"yes. well, it's not a question. I don't really know how long I've loved you. I mean, you know the day you fell in love with me. whereas I realized that when I didn't stop painting your face I thought it was your absence but it was stronger than that. when we were young, we were dumb and clumsy. but thank you to let me come back because we finally found the right moment."

“you know very well that you never had to ask for anything to get everything you want from me. all is yours. ”

— tysm for reading 🫶🏿‼️

[mv1simp]

Into You ♥️

Max Verstappen x Redbull Engineer! Reader

Oh baby, look what you've started, the temperature's rising and is this gonna happen? (Been waitin' and waitin' for you to make a move)

At 27, you've just been promoted to the role of Redbull's race engineer - a very impressive feat in motorsport for a young woman. There's just one issue though - you secretly had a massive crush on the driver you're meant to be guiding, Max Verstappen. Will you make it through the season before he catches on? (You hope so because goddamn, the HR team were a nightmare to deal with.)

Content includes: fluff, humour, Max and reader are simps for each other, sexual tension, pining, drunk confessions, 3.2k WC

Recently, you'd started having some issues at work. Okay, gun to your head, you'll admit it was more like a single issue - in the shape of a very attractive, 6 foot Dutch racing driver who occasionally had problems with anger management. Sure, it didn’t sound that bad, in fact, someone else would just sit back and enjoy the eye candy the F1 paddock provided! But to truly appreciate the full depth of your embarrassing problem, one needed to unpack all the lore behind it.

After graduating from a prestigious mechanical engineering master's program, you'd been ecstatic about getting to intern at Redbull's F1 racing team, department of aerodynamic design. You'd started working at the company at a very good time, because later that year, their top driver Max Verstappen claims his first WDC at age 24 - only 6 months your junior. A very impressive feat for such a young age - as you admire him from a distance in the garage workshop. And, super hot too, you thought cheekily, whoever wifed him up was sure to be a lucky woman.

Your own hard work hadn't gone unnoticed, and many higher-ups and sponsors alike were curious to see the team who had been behind the championship winning changes to the Redbull car. You'd risen very quickly in the ranks, from intern to permanent technical engineer and then last year to to the innovative research & development department, now involved directly with calling the big shots for what each version of the car would look like and coming face to face with Max for the first time in your career with Redbull.

Unlike the other drivers, Max was genuinely curious about your design process. The way he asked questions, thoughtfully listened to your long explanations and then would give you direct feedback about the exact issues he would have in the trial runs had made you flustered, especially from the full intensity of his blue eyes. No, seriously though, Shakespeare himself would have written poetry if he'd gazed into them. The TikTok creators certainly seem to agree, with all their ocean eyes edits. Not that you had any saved. Anyways, moving on-

You were on the quieter side but Max seemed to know just how to get through to you. It meant that your team had been able to design the most dominating car in F1 history - the RB23, and paired with Max Verstappen it was an unstoppable force, almost like you made it just for me, Max had said, smiling gorgeously at you like some GQ Sports model. You stared back at him incredulously, banana choc chip muffin halfway to your mouth, cause who the hell woke up looking like that, you two were wearing identical Redbull shirts but his looked like it had been personally tailored to fit that broad muscular chest and yours was giving oversized trash bag??

Honestly, you'd hoped that working in closer proximity would humanise him more and you'd lose this silly crush of yours the moment you saw him do some icky rich white boy move. Like maybe he’d donate to Donald Trump's anti vaccine campaign or say guys 🥺 Can’t go to Ibiza this weekend the yacht staff had an emergency, got caught in some Gulf war zone or something? Idk

But when he had knocked on your apartment door when you hadn't shown up to work in two days, and found you crying because your childhood dog had just been diagnosed with terminal cancer across the other side of the world and saying I’m sorry, I know it’s not that big of a deal, I’ll come back tomorrow I promise-

And instead of laughing like you’d expected, he’d cut you off, told you to pack a bag and then driven you all the way to his personal jet. You looked into his beautiful blue eyes while he earnestly begged you to use it so you could make it in time to say goodbye to your Arlo before your parents put him down tonight. And that’s when you realised you were doomed to be hopelessly in love with the younger man. (But also, you had a serious discussion with him about the extreme greenhouse gas emissions from private jet fuel use, we only had one planet, you would be happy to just fly first class instead-)

But when your mentor Newey announced his plans to leave Redbull this year, you had planned on following him - making the exec panic at the thought of losing two of their crucial engineers. They frantically thrown random promotions at you, praying one would stick - and Redbull twitter fans breathed a sigh of relief when you took interest in the role of race engineer and stayed in the company.

You'd been excited about becoming one of Checo's engineers, having trained under the current one for the last few months. But to your horror, one day you arrived on the paddock only to be promptly sat down at a meeting along with the two drivers and be informed that they'd had to switch some things around, GP had an emergency to attend and could you pretty please fill in for the role of Max's race engineer this weekend-

NOPE. You'd announced, standing up and slamming your hands on the table, then realising that might be a touch overdramatic as everyone questioningly looked at you. Why not? Christian Horner demanded suspiciously.

Um, because he's super hot, you fool?! How is a girl meant to focus with him whispering track feels really wet today in her headphones? Were the years of self control to just admire from a distance like a loser and not jeopardise your career just a joke to him?? You don’t blink as your boss stared you down, hoping he could pick up on the thoughts that you’re trying to telepathically communicate. The table remained silent, only interrupted by the noisy slurping of Checo's boba tea. You quickly changed tactics - well, Verstappen is the winning champion, he needs an engineer who has experience working alongside him during the race-

Alas, the object of your affections threw a well intended wrench in your escape plans by adding that you were the perfect person, then, since you'd worked together for years and understood his communication style. Unless - he paused, flashing those deadly baby blues at you - unless the issue is you don't want to work with me?

You'd lasted all of three seconds under his hurt gaze before admitting defeat and accepting the role, slumping down next to him and desperately praying you'd wake up a lesbian tomorrow morning. Max continued to sneak long glances at you through the meeting, leaning around you to grab a pen and then his phone and making you jump each time his strong arm wrapped around your small frame. Across the table, Checo thoughtfully chewed on his boba as he watched you two curiously. Ah, young love.

And to no one's surprise the pair of you had made a flawless team, you expertly guiding Max as your engineer instincts took over and him actually listening to your helpful instructions without his usual aggression over the radio. And so when GP announced that his 1 week emergency was now going to be a 6 month break, sorry! - it had been all too easy for Christian Horner to bestow the honour of being Max's primary engineer onto you.

So now, here you sat, before your 4th race with Max, grimly looking on with your chin propped onto interlaced fingers, preparing yourself for his deep, sexy voice that was going to be purring in your ears very soon. The very voice that had become a recurring theme in the dreams you'd been having lately, that and also how he would bite those thick lips of his when he'd stare at you, with his cute little freckle on his top lip-

Why do you look like you're about to go to war, your intern asks bluntly, putting an end to your illicit thoughts and delivering you your triple chocolate caramel frap. Because I am, you hissed, sculling the whole thing in one go. She smirked, leaning in conspiratorially. Was this to do with how categorically down bad you are for your precious Maxie?

You proceeded to inform her that if she ever brought up how you'd drunkedly referred to him that one time, you'd have no problem abusing your authority to shaft her on tire service duty for a week. She wisely chose to leave you be in peace, taking your empty cup as she went.

Taking some meditative breaths, you focus on thinking about unsexy things. Like the hydraulics system of the current car needing to be redesigned to better incorporate-

Your thoughts are cut off a second time as another cup is deposited in front of you, this time by none other than Max himself, who's thoughtfully brought you a triple chocolate caramel frap. You stutter out your thanks, not daring to touch more caffeine currently as you already had sweaty palpitations at the sight of him looking so big and muscled in his slutty tight fireproofs. Dear God, had he no shame? They needed to bring back the Victorian era and cover him up, he was going to distract everyone (mainly you.) He frowns slightly, leaning down to your height, and informs you that you didn't have to call him Verstappen, you know, Max is fine-

Wow. And then what would come next? Maxie? And then you asking him for his hand in marriage? No, no, absolutely not - you needed to maintain strict professional boundaries or risk him catching onto your massive crush and promptly be fired. You politely informed him that for the sake of public decorum and the rabid fangirls that were watching your every move as a young female engineer in proximity to their favourite drivers, that you would refer to him as Verstappen, or Mr. Verstappen if he preferred a more formal title?

He'd pouted those lush lips of his and reluctantly agreed that just Verstappen was okay, he supposed. But he much preferred hearing you call him Max, at least when there were no cameras around? What you had done in your past life to now be forced to resist such temptation, you would never know.

So the season went on, you two continuing to be a smashing success and a very popular internet pairing. Not that you'd been paying that much attention! Just a saved TikTok edit here and there of the time Max had called you schatje over the radio after blowing up about a tire malfunction. He’d then sweetly apologised the next lap when you remained unfazed and told him to sort his shit out, babes, Leclerc was right up his ass with a tire and DRS malfunction, yeah? (Twitter had gone crazy. Who knew Max Verstappen responded so well to a 5 foot, slightly older woman giving him orders over the team radio?! You’d instantly been accepted as a replacement for the beloved GP, original gentle domTM to the Dutch driver.)

And perhaps another saved edit of the time he had protectively held you in those big, strong arms of his, guiding your tiny figure through a massive media-frenzied crowd and whispered reassurances in your ear when you couldn’t breathe properly. Or the time he’d bitten a reporter’s head off with the ferocity of a lion after he suggested that as the first female race engineer, you’d acquired your new job through your…feminine wiles.

And maybe just one of when the PR team had made you do one of those ridiculous hot lap videos with him after seeing the online response, and he'd laughed as you screamed out of fear for your life when he cruised at a cool 200km/hr. The aftermath had been brutal, as you weakly stumble out and almost fall flat on your face, only for him to easily pick you up, carrying you bridal style back towards the garage (Truly, this right here was proof God sent his hardest battles to his strongest soldiers.)

Nearing the end of the 6 month stint, when GP was due back in to resume his role as Max's race engineer, the Redbull team had decided to take a well deserved weekend trip to Verona, Italy. You’d suspiciously looked at your intern, asking why she’d selected the romantic setting of Romeo & Juliet of all places, to which she replied that just cause you’d chosen to cockblock yourself for eternity with a crush on your coworker the millionaire F1 driver, didn’t mean the rest of them couldn’t get some. Valid point, so you shut up.

So now, here you are, sitting in a romantically lit corner of a cute Italian vineyard with a small group from the engineering division, sloshed after a bottle of red wine and asking them be real, be real, you're telling me none of you have been checked out Max's ass in his fireproofs? Lies.

Across the courtyard, Lando is currently extremely unimpressed with his good friend, 3 time Championship winning, and general terror on the track Max Verstappen. That is because said friend has decided, rather pathetically, to lie on the cobblestone and drunkedly ask the stars why fate was so cruel. Seriously mate, Lando sighs, all this over a silly insta post?

Excuse you, it’s not just any insta post! Max had protested, baby tears in his eyes and face flushed from the four G&Ts he’d drunk. Pulling out his phone, he shows Lando the damning evidence of the pictures you'd uploaded from the group trip with your engineering friends. Look. LOOK. His arm is around her and she used a Lana Del Ray lyric in the caption. Do you have any idea what this means?

The Brit has to resist rolling his eyes at the melodrama unfolding in front of him. The Dutchman continues, never one to miss a chance to maxplain - as he details how it had taken him a a whole 2 months to get him to call you by his first name, and then another 2 months before you'd told him your favourite song was Summertime Sadness, and that even now if he hugged you to celebrate a win you would look like you were about to throw up and furiously speed walk away.

Lando is seriously regretting tagging along to the Redbull trip instead of Carlos's invitation to Mallorca. It was bad enough that the whole train ride Max had been on the phone begging GP to take another 6 month break so that you'd continue to be his engineer, but Lando has had his limit with this simpy pining. Taking his phone out as the maxplaining continued in the background, he shoots a text to your intern, who immediately replies, and within minutes the pair of them have hatched a conniving plan to dump you lovesick fools together while the rest of them make their way into town.

And that’s how you and Max find yourself locked inside the upstairs wine cellar, having been separately tricked with various promises from your scheming friends - only to hear the door click behind you and turn to find each other. It's very romantic and all, soft candlelight and bottles of luxurious Italian wine and a shining full moon visible from the terracotta balcony. Someone had even generously left a speaker in the courtyard, with Lana Del Ray's melodic voice rising upto the second floor. Basically, the worst nightmare for your self control as you prayed for inner strength and avoid looking into Max's dreamy blue eyes. This was definitely some twisted beyond the grave revenge from Shakespeare for you saying he'd write poetry about a F1 driver’s eyes.

Max, though, is all too happy to come right over to you with another freshly opened bottle of wine, drunk and flushed and having zero inhibitions about pulling you into his warm side with a strong arm. You're too buzzed to resist, letting yourself fall against his chest to hear his soothing heartbeat and rest a palm against his hard abs, just this once (The real thing was even better than what you'd imagined.)

You're both laughing and giggling then, hearts full, reminiscing about the season together, the inside jokes on the radio, the side eyes to each other when Horner got too wound up at a meeting, and oh did you hear that the McLaren tireboy was hooking up with the Mercedes oilchecker?

And then your eyes meet his and your homegirl Lana starts singing dear lord when I get to heaven, please let me bring my man (real) and Max is softly brushing your cheek, leaning down as your heated gazes flit to each other's lips-

NOPE! you force yourself to declare, dramatically leaving his arms and contemplating if you could land the jump from the 2nd floor balcony. The Italian wine has made Max demanding though, as he doesn't let you go, grabbing your hand to pull you back like he was Anthony goddamn Bridgerton and wanting to know Why not, was he just imagining the chemistry, did you not find him hot or?

You'd gaped at him. Not hot? Apparently the Italian wine had gotten to you too because you didn't hold back, launching into a tirade of how no, Max, the issue was actually that he was too hot for his own good and did he even know how unfair it had been to be his engineer, pure torture really, you were sure the American military would be adding it to their interrogation tactics. As if it hadn't been bad enough to crush on him from a distance for years but then have to resist falling for him every time you saw him? So, no, you couldn't just give him a casual drunk kiss because you were in love with him!

Max stares at you, initially smug that you apparently found him so irresistibly good looking, but now completely bewildered when you finished ranting. You think - he swallowed. You think that this is just casual? Cause I- cause I'm drunk?

At your nod, he launches into his own maxplaination, brows furrowed, demanding to know how on earth you could think it was just casual, what about when he diligently showed up to every meeting with a banana choc muffin and caramel frappe and his hoodie for you to wear on the chilly mornings, or when he brought two Lana Del Ray VIP tickets the very same day you'd told him you liked her, or when he'd literally called you darling in Dutch over the team radio for the whole world to hear, or how he even sold his private jet and only jetpooled with the others since you told him off?! Seriously, even that old crone Helmut had asked him when you two were going to hard launch!

Your doe eyes go wider and wider at each statement, a pretty flush taking over your own face as your mind boggles at the realisation that apparently, the love of your life felt just as deeply about you. Stuttering, you try to formulate a reply - only to come up with Oh, well, I, uh - you sold your jet? For me?

Max rolls his eyes, but there's nothing except pure adoration on his face as he pulls you back into his warm chest, grinning down at you when you eagerly wrap your arms around his broad shoulders. Yes, schat, he murmurs gently, the cutest blush painting his cheeks. Because I love you, too. And this time you don't pull away when he finally, finally leans down and meets your lips in a passionate kiss, enjoying the sweet moans he draws out of you as he showcases his numerous talents off the track.

Somewhere, in the middle of a Verona nightclub, your intern gives Lando Norris a firm handshake. Pleasure doing business with you.

_____________________________________________

A/N: A lil sweet fluff for me, this is actually my first fluff piece i think ahaha i've only written like 8 smut pieces in a row!! Hope you enjoyed 💖 and PS thank you ALL for the requests you’ve been sending, been getting them and will work thru them just have a few projects I’m cookin up for u guys hehe xx

[themultifanshipper]

Sometimes, there's nothing like some heavy drinking and extreme cold to make sure best friends don't stay best friends.

You and Franco found this out the hard way.

Warnings: don't fuck on the beach guys it's really not a good idea, smut, belly bulge, squirting, alcohol, so many petnames I lost count, no good judgement to be found anywhere

I'll set the scene.

Winter break, at a beach house on the Argentinian coast, at night.

Everyone is sleeping, the only sound that can be heard is the waves crashing on the sand.

You and Franco were indeed best friends. And deeply, deeply in denial about your feelings for each other.

You followed him everywhere, fucking up your education to go to all his races, ever since you were 14.

And he never had a girlfriend because... well, how could he even look at other girls when you were around?

Now you were 23, and he'd fucked around a bit, and so had you. But it was never anything serious, drunken one night stands mostly.

But there you were, on the beach at 2 in the morning, playing a game of drunk hetero-chicken.

Like gay chicken, but longer and more painful to watch.

It involved throwing back shots, and running into the ocean.

The twist was that the ocean was fucking cold when there was no sun to warm you up, and there was only so much the cheap tequila could do, so once you were in the water you had to huddle up to share body heat.

It was only a matter of time before the huddling turned to groping.

You can't even remember who initiated the first kiss, but neither of you wanted to stay in the water for long after that.

Franco carried you out, your thighs firmly wrapped around his waist and his hands digging into your ass.

He set you down in the sand and climbed over you, shoving his way in between your legs.

You both knew what was about to happen, but were too fucking in love to care.

You whined at the stretch when the first of his thick fingers made its way into your quickly dampening cunt.

“It's okay, querida. Let me take care of you”

He bit your bottom lip at the same time as the second finger slipped in, both actions making you groan into his greedy mouth.

Mouth that decided to start traveling south and sucked a couple of bruises into your skin before going even further.

The hand that wasn't pumping in and out of you came up to pull at the string of your bikini, exposing your tits to him as he gulped and looked deep into your eyes.

“You are perfect, mi vida”

He leaned down and sucked one of your nipples into his mouth, making you arch into the sensation and he took the opportunity to slip a third finger in.

He hooked them upwards and you groaned your approval of his ministrations.

“Franco, fuck me- please”

“In a minute, baby, let me just-”

You looked down at this hand, and the sight of him slipping a fourth finger in was enough to make you clench around them, and he groaned, the squelch almost audible over the crashing waves.

“Fuck Franco, that's- I think that's enough, no?”

He chuckled. “I need to prepare you, the last thing I want is to hurt you. I am... uhh, big” he muttered, almost shyly, and if it hadn't been night-time you would have seen the blush creeping along his cheeks.

And if the bulge in his shorts was anything to go by, he wasn't lying.

You slipped a hand in the waistband, pulling them down slowly, and marveled at the thickness that met your touch.

Your fingers were barely long enough to wrap around him, and he grunted as you started pumping him slowly.

“Come on Franco, I won't break. I need you inside me, please”

And who was he to deny such a request.

Despite his inebriated state, he went slow, and was incredibly careful as he inched inside you with measured thrusts.

When his hips were finally flush with yours, you let out a wanton moan.

“Fuck, I'm so full”

“I know querida, just breathe”

He let you adjust at your own pace, kissing your neck in an effort to distract you from the intense stretch.

“Okay” you gasped out “You can move baby”

The first gentle thrust was eath-shattering and you couldn't help but let out a shrill cry, which spurred Franco on.

He lifted you with an arm around your waist, sitting back on his haunches and holding you up so that he could thust into you while you clung onto him, overwhelmed by the pleasure.

You came once like that, panting and moaning into his mouth, before he lay you back down and put your legs over his shoulders.

He pounded into you hard and fast while you squirmed and whined at the overstimulation.

“Franco, oh my god” you gasped, feeling the beginnings of another orgasm approaching and he chuckled when he felt your cunt squeezing him tighter.

“You can do another one for me, baby, can't you?”

He looked down at you with a sick smirk and you nodded.

He glanced further down and his jaw tightened at what he saw.

“Look baby, look how good I’m filling you”

You followed his gaze and landed on the slight bulge that appeared when he was fully inside you.

You moaned and he laughed, his hips speeding up.

“You like that, huh? Go on and rub yourself for me while I make you feel good”

You complied immediately, fingers going down to rub fast circles on your clit, and at the same time Franco put a hand over the bulge and pressed down.

You saw stars, literally and metaphorically as you spasmed around him, juices coating his hips and thighs, and seeping into the wet sand.

Your head was thrown back while you cried out his name into the night, and once you were sated he quickly pulled out and fisted his cock until the thick ropes of his cum landed on your thighs and soaked folds, mixing with your own release.

He leaned down to kiss you, not caring about lying in his own spend because, after all you just needed to have a dip in the water to clean off.

You lay like that for a bit, just kissing in the moonlight while the sound of the waves faded into the background.

After a while you separated and he chuckled.

“Thank god we are outside. I don't think I've ever made anyone squirt that much before.”

You slapped his chest lightly and giggled. “Franco!”

He smiled and leaned down to capture your lips once more.

“Come, lets go inside before we catch un resfriado”

You didn't know what that was, but you followed him anyway.

You took a long hot shower, and curled up together in bed, like you always did.

The next day you learned what a ‘resfriado’ is (it’s a fucking nasty bitch of a cold), and you also learned that Franco's poor mother had gotten up in the night to get a glass of water, and had the misfortune of looking out of the window.

She apparently got quite an eyeful of the filth that you two were getting up to.

[poguehearted77]

Lights, Camera, Action!

Summary-> It's your first day on set and your nerves are through the roof but the cast makes you feel at home. You practice your lines, but the sparks between you and Drew are unscripted.

Belongs to my: OBX Season 5: Payback for Maybank Series

These can be read in any order!

You're jet-lagged, but your body has no idea. Too distracted from the abundance of nerves pumping through your veins as you walked around the enormous film lot toward the set.

You stand on the edge of the bustling Moroccan set, heart pounding as you clutch your sides. The scarf draped over your head feels both like a costume and a shield, helping you blend into the character you’re about to bring to life. Even with the months of preparation and the script readings under your belt, this moment feels surreal.

Everyone hustled across the set with purpose, knowing exactly what their job was and how to do it. You had only a fraction of that confidence as you were approached by a familiar face, one of the directors, Josh Pate.

"I can sense your anxiety from a mile away." He teases and it pulls a smile and a small breath of relief that he was friendly. With a comforting hand on your shoulders, "Take a deep breath, go grab a muffin from craft, have some water and I'll see you back here for your scene in 20, alright? I don't need any more faintings on the clock."

Once the words process, he's already gone. Fainting?? More??? With dazed eyes, your eyes scan the environment, dozens of people dressed just like you. Some sitting on the sidelines while others got into place on set. You'd even spotted Madelyn off to the side, a make-up artist lightly padding her face to protect it from the lighting as she prepared for her scene.

You took Josh's suggestion seriously, and promptly, or at least you tried to. You had no idea where to find crafts services or even if you'd be able to find your way back. "Craft Services is the first door on your left." Your head whips around with a face of slight terror in your eyes at the mind-reader from behind you. It's JD.

"How did you know?" It's the first thing you say, slight amusement and a hint of awe evident in your voice. He shrugs, "You were either looking for craft or the bathroom. It was a 50/50 shot, to be honest." He laughs and it calms your nerves a little. After a little while and a good conversation with JD, you glanced at the clock on the wall.

It became apparent you didn't have much time left. Quickly you end the conversation and head inside the room he'd directed you to. The studio was warm, credit to the Morrocan heat that surrounded you on the outside.

"Cups, cups, cups.." You mutter to no one in particular as you desperately scan for the item you need. "Here you go," A big hand is outstretched in front of you with a new cup dwarfed in its palm.

Your eyes followed up the length of the arm until they met those famous ocean-blue eyes that owned your TikTok feed for months last fall. Drew. He has the infamous buzz and soft smile as he looks down at you.

"Thank you," It's a simple response but it's the best you can do in a situation like this. Turning away from him, you fill your cup and finish its contents in nearly one sip before tossing it and rushing back to set not wanting to be late.

You rush back to set, still feeling the phantom warmth of Drew’s presence. For a moment, you wonder if this strange mix of tension and excitement is something all new actors feel or if it’s just you. The scarf draped over your head has now become a makeshift security blanket, as much for your nerves as for your character.

Josh greets you with a reassuring thumbs-up as you step into position, the antique shop set sprawling around you with meticulous detail. Dusty shelves lined with ornate trinkets, cracked pottery, and rusted brass figurines fill the space, dimly lit to convey the musty atmosphere of a forgotten bazaar. The air smells faintly of incense, which only adds to the immersion.

As the Pogues enter the set, Madelyn offers you a friendly wink, her playful energy making the tension in your shoulders ease. You remember bumping into her at one of your meetings with the writers. She's as pure as her character and it was relieving to see a friendly face on set.

Chase gives you a nod of encouragement, while Jonathan seems almost shocked to see you, probably since you'd never mentioned who you would be playing. He sends you a motion of acknowledgement anyway and you smile back.

The cameras start rolling, and suddenly, you are no longer you. As though it were a chemical reaction to the words 'Action', your brain switches to the character you've studied for months in anticipation. No longer Y/n, now Piper.

You busy yourself behind the counter. Attending to the tasks that depend on you as the owner of your antique shop. Your focus is set on the vase in your hands as you sweep over its rim with a cloth.

The bell of the shop chimes as six foreigners enter the shop, standing in a crowd with some of the most grim expressions you'd ever seen. "Vases on the left, woodwork on the right. Let me know if you have any questions." The phrase sounds ingenuine as it has only been repeated every day for the last three years.

"We're not here for some fucking pottery-" Rafe claps his hands down on the counter, you don't react. Sarah corrects him, "Rafe." You look back to the bunch, now standing at your full height,

They were filthy, covered in sand, dirt, and essentially any other grime that could find them. "We need supplies." Sarah says and you shrug, "What did you have in mind? Glasses? Lamps? Clocks?" The group lets out a frustrated set of sounds.

Pope clears his throat, "We need weapons, and we were told to come find you... the pied piper." You tug down the fabric that'd been covering your face to the bridge of your nose. Unveiling the full length of the scar that begins in the center of your forehead, runs down over your left eye and reaches your cheek.

John B whispers, "Just like he said," You make him speak up, "Just like who said. Who sent you?" He steps closer, "Mr. Alami, the merchant from Agapenta. He said you would be able to help us." Your expression elicits a sign of understanding but quickly returns to disinterest.

"I don't help foreigners." The explosive one outbursts again, "You sound just like we do, clearly you're not from here either, so stop shitting us and give us the guns." Those cobalt orbs penetrate the window of your soul but only bring out the sinister grin on Piper's face. "Fine," Swiftly reaching behind your back, revealing the weapon they so desperately wanted, you hold them at gunpoint.

"-And Cut!" You place the gun down on the counter and Drew approaches the counter once again. "That was really good, I even got caught up in it." He places a hand on his chest to add sincerity.

"Thank you so much. I was really nervous for today, I had no idea what to expect." Someway somehow your conversation moves off to the side of the set, seated on those acting chairs.

You laugh as he brings up your fleeting encounter earlier, "I had no idea you were playing Piper. One second I handed you a cup and I turned around and you're gone." Your stomach hurts from laughing. You take a deep breath of air to stop yourself from dying. "Stop stop stop," You beg, neither of you sure what you were laughing about anymore.

There wasn't much time until you would resume the scene but in the short time, Jonathan and Carlacia invited themselves over, giving a proper introduction, sparking a lively group conversation. Being 26 put you somewhere in the middle of the cast's ages, but no one got treated any differently because of it.

This current moment was proof. You and Carlacia posed for a selfie she insisted on taking, honouring the 'newest member' into their family. Both leaning in over the image on her screen you share a hearty laugh. JD is captured in the background in the middle of a gnarly yawn.

"Give me the phone, Lacy. That picture is a federal offence." He threatens, not an ounce of seriousness to be sensed in his voice. "I demand justice." You're almost certain you'd have a fully developed six-pack by the end of filming just from all the laughing.

Before you knew it the break was over and you were back where you'd left off. Went through the scene once more, adjusting anything that needed to be altered and carrying on. "I'm only going to ask you once, what do you want?" You've got a tight grip on the weapon and a crazy look in your eyes.

For the first time, Kiara breaks her silence. "Chandler Groff killed our friend! We can't let him get away with it." Her pleas pique your interest, and it's evident in your expression. "Chandler Groff, The conman?" They nod slowly and you begin to fume.

"Come." You wave them over, whipping open the curtains and entering the back of your shop. Four walls filled with various weapons from swords to machine guns. "Feeling like a kid in a candy store." Cleo beams, looking at the options, nothing but revenge in mind.

"Is that a canon?.." Pope trails off, "You've gotta be ready for anything. Expect the unexpected." Pope wholeheartedly agrees while John B begins questioning your knowledge about Groff. "He wronged some friends of mine. He got away before I could get to him, and that was a good call. I would've blown his brain to bits if I got my hands on him."

Kie smiles at that mention, "That's the dream," John B mutters. "Last time he was here, he was after some magical relic, a mythical one might I add. The blue... crest?" The item is lost on you when Sarah fills in. "The blue crown." It dawns on you at the mention.

"It's real," Kie admits and all the pogues turn to her with horror at her honesty. "Groff has it and god knows where he could be with it." You think, "If what you're telling me is true... then that crown is worth hundreds of millions of dollars. He can't just sell it at any auction. There's only one person with money like that. Mr. Finch."

"Where can we find him?"

"He's far. A two-day journey at minimum. You'll be forced to cross enemy territory and only locals know how to navigate the oasis under the radar. If you really are set on killing Groff, I'd be happy to lead you."

You notice an exchange of various looks between the group. "We need a second." Suddenly there's an exclusive huddle that leaves both you and the tall man at odds. He was sending daggers towards you. "Too cool to be part of their little club, are you?" Rafe stalks towards you, long intimidating strides. Displeased with your little joke.

Your faces were close enough that you could see his pupils dilate and contract now in the light from the window. "Listen. I've heard everything you said, and I'm not buying it. I don't trust you, and if you think for even a second I'll let you get in my way, you've got another thing comin'."

You noticeably gulp, it was unscripted but your nerves propelled it. He towered over you, your dark brown eyes searching his blue ones for any signs of insincerity but none was to be found. Every word he said, he meant it.

"And Cut! Drew, Y/n, amazing," Josh adds, and it's only when you hear your names called that you both back away from each other. However, it felt a little harder than normal, as if something was drawing you in.

Madison calls you over, and your feet are already on the move. With one last glance over your shoulder, your eyes meet his for just a moment.

His piercing eyes hold yours, a mix of curiosity and something unspoken flickering behind them, making your chest tighten with uncertainty. You can see it—he feels it too.

Taglist: @percysley, @lilithblackkk, @rafegf-real, @eternallovers65, @drsza

[bi-writes]

mmm. being the final girl in ghost's slasher movie (dark!ghost x curvy!fem!reader, 18+)

his laughter shakes you to your core. you're cornered, in the very back bedroom under the bed, staring at the dull gaze of your roommate as she bleeds out on the floor.

she's gurgling. she coughs up mouthfuls of blood, and they trail down her neck like a spider web until it pools underneath her head, making the strands of her hair red and sticky. the slit across her throat sputters, and you watch as the white painted bones on the back of his gloves drips with the pretty crimson color. if it wasn't so cruel, if it wasn't blood, it might be artistic.

he takes a thumb and smears the blood over her skin. he draws shapes into her forehead and then both of her cheeks, and you clamp a hand over your mouth to stop from crying as she gasps, reaching up with a shaky hand, halfheartedly trying to push him off, but she's too weak.

he hums when he finishes, and your eyes well up with tears when he knocks her head to the side so she's facing you. he's written three words on her face, one word on her forehead, and then the rest on her cheeks, in her own blood.

I SEE YOU

you scream when he shifts, grabbing onto your ankles and yanking. you claw at the hardwood floor, trying desperately to get away from him, but it's no use. he has you, he found you.

no matter where you go, you've never been able to hide. no matter how far away you think you've gone, it never matters. no matter how long you go without hearing from him, it isn't a comfort, because that usually means the inevitable is coming.

he will never leave you alone. you will never get away. he will find you, he will have you, and every time you escape, it is always just him giving you the illusion of freedom, when in reality, he can have you as easily as he did before.

"givin' me a right headache, luvvie," he murmurs, flipping you over with not so much as a grunt and sitting on your hips. you squirm under him, but this behemoth of a man isn't something you can just push off of you. he's big and heavy, and with all his gear on, he must be thirty pounds heavier. you eye the gun strapped to his chest, but even at this distance, you know it won't matter.

ghost cannot die. that's how he got his fucking name. you've sunk a knife into his stomach before, you've shot him once, you've pushed him off of cliffs and down elevator shafts and watched him sink to the bottom of the fucking ocean, but he cannot die, he won't die, he will never leave me.

"fuck you," you spit, and he chuckles, pulling one of his throwing knives out of his boot and using it to pop the first button off the front of your shirt. it clatters somewhere in the bedroom, and ghost snarls when he sees the lace of your bra.

"expectin' someone?" he growls. "oi! look at me."

you glare up at him, tears sliding down your cheeks, and he uses the sharp edge to pop the rest of the buttons off, your shirt in tatters as it lays loose around your arms. he grunts as he sneaks it under where the cups meet, pulling upwards until he cuts the lace in half. you mewl when your tits bounce, falling free, and his pupils dilate.

"mmmm..." he pushes his mask up, leaning down, and you arch your back when he wraps his lips around one nipple and suckles. you reach up without thinking, your hands finding the back of his head and cradling it as he practically feeds on the fat of your breasts. "know how much you like tha'..."

you whine, and he lets go, pushing the front of his mask into your cheek, licking the skin. you scrunch your face, dirty fucking animal, and he mouths at your jaw.

"'f y'were just a good girl, wouldn't hafta do this," he taunts. you squirm when he lowers himself again, paying attention to the other breast and sucking it into his mouth. "y'make me do it, swee'eart. make me hurt sorry muppets...they're keepin' y'from me. and y'know tha' isn't allowed."

you cry out when he flips you over under him. he shoves your face into the floor, tangling his hand into your hair and yanking on it so that you're looking at your dead roommate, her eyes dull and lifeless as she lays there turning cold.

"look wot y'did," he growls. "look wot y'made me do."

she looks sort of pretty. she did annoy the shit out of you, you won't lie. she looks happier this way. quiet, relaxed, still. it's cathartic, to know that maybe this is what she was meant for. to die, that was her purpose. it makes a little sense.

"'m sorry," you whisper, and ghost loosens his grip on your hair. "'m sorry..."

he kisses the side of your neck, laughing a little.

"now y'r sorry," he says, amused. "y'r mine. when are y'going to learn tha'?"

you put your palms onto the floor, trying to turn over. he eases his weight up to let you, leaning down and putting both hands on either side of your head as he looks down at you. you meet his eyes, sniffling, and you shake your head.

"w-was scared."

"scared?" he tilts his head to the side, licking over his teeth. "scared of wot? would do anythin' for ya."

"i-i know," you sniffle. "just...n-never had anyone that...that would. i-i...i've never had anyone s-so good to me."

he grins, and you shiver a little, but not from fear.

"awww," he shakes his head. "y'r a bad liar, luv."

"i'm not lying--!"

he leans down, licking over your bottom lip, and you whimper.

"prove it," ghost rasps, and you blink up at him, swallowing hard. you push on his chest a little so he eases off of you, and you hook your thumbs into your jeans and shimmy them off. ghost watches carefully, his eyes flickering when you lay bare underneath him, and you bring your knees up before letting them fall. he licks his lips, his grin widening, and he meets your eyes when he sees what he likes. "bloody hell, y'r soaking the fuckin' floor, swee'eart."

you bite your lip, a little shy, and he grips your throat firmly before tugging you up to meet him. he presses a chaste kiss to your cheek, stroking your sweaty hair and humming low.

"y'r gonna run again, aren't ya, baby?"

you nod, closing your eyes, and you let a soft moan slip out when he settles between your spread legs, pressing his pelvis to yours. you feel that familiar hardness, digging into your sex, and you can't help the grind of your hips, wanting to get closer, needing to have more of him. he might be the craziest motherfucker you have ever known, and it's a shame he fucks like a pornstar.

you open your eyes, reaching down, and he smiles wickedly when you unzip his pants, shoving them low until his cock is free. like he knew this would happen, he's been leaking into his boxers, and when you pull him out, the tip is red and wet.

you squeeze your thighs around his waist when he sinks into you, grunting when his thighs press to yours, burying himself deep. you cry, your back bowing sharply, and he smooths his gloved hand down your bare stomach, licking his lips when he trails streaks of blood down your soft skin.

"'s olright," ghost mutters, "quite like chasin' ya. makes y'r cunny taste better. makes y'so fuckin' tight, too, fuck--"

"yeah--" you gasp, and he smiles again, disgusting, filthy, murderous, terrifying.

"say it. say it, and maybe i'll forgive this lil' stunt, and maybe i'll let y'cum." your eyes roll back, and he grips your face tight. "oi! say it!"

"i'm yours! fuck--yes! i'm yours..."

[milliesfishes]

౨ৎ꣑ৎclark when you get overstimulated౨ৎ꣑ৎ clark kent x fem reader

The fork in your hand scraped your teeth as you drew it out of your mouth and you withheld a wince. It was the fifth time it had happened in the past ten minutes, and you felt as though you were hanging on by a thread. Your ears were already ringing from the steady ripple of background noise attacking from all angles of the restaurant, and you didn't need another of your five senses turning on you.

Clark was watching you. You could feel it, but you kept your eyes on your plate. The food was always good at this place, and you forced yourself to swallow each bite, knowing that on normal days you pined for such a treat. He'd brought you here because he knew you liked it. But the onslaught of little issues throughout your day had stacked up to create a monster you didn't have the energy to slay. Right now you were wishing for your warm bed with cozy blankets, big warm cozy man to snuggle up with too.

Shaking your head, you took another bite, maneuvering your fork out of your mouth without issue this time. Risking a look up, you smiled at Clark, injecting a shot of something sweet and hopefully convincing. Almost over. Almost over.

He reached across the table, sliding his palm under your fingers. Your shoulders dropped when he touched you, your other hand pulling at the neck of your sweater. Clark's eyes were laser focused on you, and you almost felt flattered. A man with powers nearly beyond description, abilities that could and had saved the masses, and he was centering it all on you. His super-senses homed in on your distress, something that was invisible to everyone else. It wasn't that you were bad at hiding it, it was that he was better at seeing you.

Even though the restaurant was loud, you could hear him clearly. "Do you want to go home?" He was only asking to be a gentleman. You knew well by now that his first instinct was to get you out of any situation causing you pain, and it wasn't one he'd ignore when it was this simple.

So you nodded, sat still while he signed the check and thanked the waiter. You weren't leaving behind a full plate by any means- thank goodness you'd managed to consume most of your food before the oceans within overpowered you. Guilt would have given your hurt a crown if you hadn't.

When he stood up, you followed suit, reaching for your coat and purse on your chair. Dutifully, Clark held your bag and coat while you stepped into it, and when you turned to face him, his hands were at your collar, straightening it and thumbing at your cheek. A real little smile turned your lips up, and he kept your purse on his arm as he led you outside, big warm body chasing away the cold.

He didn't bring anything up until you stepped through the door of the apartment, by which time you were feeling miles better. The walk had done you good, movement centering your mind back where you needed it.

When you'd hung your coat and he'd set your purse on the counter, it was like magnets drawing together. You didn't know who'd moved first, but you suspected that perhaps it was a little of both. Either way, you found yourself pressed to his chest, any outside sound muffled by his heartbeat tapping at your ear.

"You okay?" His voice was low, healing something strained from today inside you.

"Better now," you whispered, pulling at the neck of your sweater again.

Clark kissed the top of your head, the frame of his glasses nudging you for just a moment. He fingered your top for a moment. "Baby, is this itchy?"

There was a beat of silence. Then you nodded against his chest, face still hidden there. You felt another kiss in your hair. "C'mon, let's go change."

He turned for a moment when you were pulling your sweater over your head, facing you again holding your favorite sweatshirt. The white one with a cartoon cat wearing a bow and flowers surrounding it. Beautiful! was written in bold pink cursive letters at the top. He'd brought it home one day after work, claiming he saw it in a shop window and thought of you. It warmed your heart to imagine your burly man in the feminine sort of shop that would sell this kind of thing, searching the walls for exactly what he saw walking down the street.

"Oh, honey," he said softly, reaching a finger out to lightly skim over your chest. The area on and below your collarbone was irritated from the itchy fabric of your sweater. "Are you hurting?" You shook your head meekly, pouting as you looked down at yourself. On such a day as this, the direct sensory issue had only caused you more grief.

Clark tossed your sweater into the laundry basket while you pulled the sweatshirt over your head, taking your skirt too when you handed it over. You sat on the bed, flopping onto your back and closing your eyes. When he took one of your feet, you lifted one lid to watch him slide a pair of his boxers up your legs.

Smiling, you sat up and swung your legs back and forth, opening your eyes all the way. Your man of steel had removed his tie, and he was just about done unbuttoning his shirt. Watching Clark get undressed was always a treat, and he found your fascination amusing. Sometimes you watched for the pure sex appeal that seemed to effortlessly radiate off your boyfriend in waves. Tonight it was a comfort, a domestic privilege. He was utterly yours in these moments.

"C'mere." Once he was outfitted in a crewneck and boxers of his own, you reached out for him with arms and legs both, sticking straight out from the bed. He scooped you up completely effortlessly, and you buried your face in his neck. The journey to the couch wasn't more than a few seconds, and when he flopped down, you settled nicely draped over him.

The last of what felt like the attack of the day on you faded away when he began to stroke your hair. Clark held you one-armed while he grabbed a blanket from where it was hanging over the couch edge, fluffing it out and covering your back.

You nuzzled into him, and he shuffled around for a moment before the sound of your favorite movie began to play softly in the background. Clark shifted you to the side so the screen was in your vision, kissing the top of your head and adjusting his arm around your waist. You cuddled into him, murmuring, "I'm sorry about tonight."

He stroked you for a moment, pressing another kiss to your hair. "It's okay, baby." You reached up for him, hand finding his curls. Clark's glasses had slid down his nose, and there was a tiny smudge he must have acquired during the day. He was still as you touched him, letting you do as you needed. "I'm happy with you in every way."

Burying your head in his neck, you sniffled softly. "Oh, my baby," he muttered, rubbing your back softly. "You're okay. It's okay. It was really loud in there, huh?"

"Yeah," you said softly, lower lip trembling.

"Yeah," he repeated quietly. You rested your head on his shoulder, watching the movie again. Here in the safety of your home you finally felt ease, recharging for the next time you needed to leave your paradise.

"Just be with me," Clark whispered, rubbing your side. "You're safe."

And with him, you always knew you were.

[yawn-junn]

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ # I'm thinking 'bout cha

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ Much obliged too: Jiseok, Big O!cean

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ Synopsis: Jiseok boyfriend imagines

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ Inscription: This is pure entertainment, don't take anything too seriously or a take on his or big ocean's actual characters and I do see you're requests I have them in the works don't worry

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ Cauntionary Tale: jealousy : food : kissing : mentions of being deaf : insecurities :

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ Taglist: @mxlly143 - @babigriin

06/21/24

ᝰ.ᐟ Naturally he has a very natural face, rarely showing any actual movement other than his smile, but with you he can't control his face at all.

ᝰ.ᐟ His ears are uncontrollably red around you, especially if you do something he thinks is absolutely adorable.

ᝰ.ᐟ Non stop smiles, which often makes you wonder how he doesn't get face cramps.

ᝰ.ᐟ His jealousy, which I've mentioned in a different post, he gets extremely quiet tugging on whatever he can reach at that time as a sign to leave.

ᝰ.ᐟ In private he is very touchy, he loves neck kisses, especially receiving them, after a stressful day of practice and the annoying live their always on, yes he enjoys it but sometimes it gets too much.

ᝰ.ᐟHe adores the little things you do for him, such as reaching up to lightly fix a little strand of hair, or making sure his implant was covered completely.

ᝰ.ᐟ On the topic of his implant, he does teach you sign language so you don't have to repeat yourself when it doesn't pick up you're voice.

ᝰ.ᐟ if you were also deaf like him, he'd be over thrilled, it's only another reason to love you more.

ᝰ.ᐟ He makes mental notes about the things you like, then he'll go set out on hours long of a journey to retrieve said items.

ᝰ.ᐟ He often gets insecure about his disability, afraid you'll leave him for someone who could hear you properly, so he'll need lots and lots of reassurance.

ᝰ.ᐟ He really isn't a fan of PDA but he'll hold you're hand or peck you're cheek in public that's about it tho.

ᝰ.ᐟ Whatever food he has he'll hype it up just to get you to eat some of it, he often worries you'll lie to him about eating.

ᝰ.ᐟ He always orders extra food for you, and an extra drink. Most of the time he's 100% right about you being hungry.

[demonic0angel]

I've been playing Dredge lately and had a thought:

Danny, a small seaside town's best fisherman, and his babies, Eldritch Dani and Dan, who prefer to live underwater and come up to see their dad, who goes out fishing every day.

His nets are always full, and his boat never encounters any problems. He always steers true, never goes off course, and keeps finding old sunken treasure in his haul.

Everyone in town knows Mr. Nightingale, and his boat sailing by becomes a sort of good omen for the folk of nearby towns. He always leaves on his own, comes back with his hold full, and two small children, which weren't in the boat in the morning, go running into town with their father at their heels. Then they all go to the beach at sunset, the children dive under the last big waves, just before the sun goes down, and twin masses of glowing lights swim into the distance, waiting for their father to go meet them again the next day.

It's good like that. The town prospers, the fish are good and plentiful for just having one or two fishermen go out every day, and the little family gets to live in a community that won't question their origins.

It's when one hero (whichever, Bat, Lantern, Martian or Super, whatever you prefer) in particular gets shot out of the air and washes into Mr. Nightingale's nets that questions start being asked, most importantly, where is the children's mother, and did Mr. Nightingale get intimate with the personification of the sea, like in Ponyo?

Extra: I know the favorite of the fandom is to ship Danny and a Bat, or a Super or Flash, or even Sam and/or Tucker.

But what if, in his late teens, Danny went off to learn from other Ghosts, met the ghostly embodiment of the ocean? They spent a few years being intimate, enough that they hosted Dani and Dan's unstable cores until proper maturity was reached, got two darling little ones out of the deal, and whenever Danny sails into the horizon, he goes to meet his partner in their own element, spends his time with them and comes back with gifts from his spouse, nets full of fresh fish, and gets the children for the rest of the day, so they can grow up in both worlds. They meet up at night at the beach so the little ones can play on the sand while their parents spend a few hours cuddling and watching the sunset.

Ooh, this sounds so interesting! Something about Danny being in love with an oceanic being sounds so ethereal? Like space and the deep sea, y’know? Two mysterious, deep places with hidden depths that humans cannot fully reach.

Not only does this remind me of Ponyo, but it also reminds me of the Pirates of the Caribbean (in a way), where two lovers are separated by sea and land. On that note, we could make Danny marry Davy Jones.

I have nothing to add, but I do think it would be funny if Danny was a hermit with a mysterious past and heroes start coming to his little sea port to ask for old, sage hero advice.

[2handsslan]

max verstappen // mv1 fic recs

———————————— 🏎️🏎️ ————————————

one shots

fluorescent - @scuderiahoney

“motorsport is a dog eat dog world, and you know that better than most. it’s not often you meet someone who understands, who shines a light on all the darkness, but max might just be the perfect person for it”

first loser - @itsgodepi

“in the wake of a disastrous race, you're caught under the media's unforgiving glare. your every move and word being dissected for days on end as you simply try to navigate your rookie year in formula one. It is just your luck that your opponent in this fiasco is none other than the famously outspoken max verstappen, whose relentless jabs only add to your frustrations”

zandvoort, nl - @frogstappen

“you watch max's home race from the red bull garage”

a different light - @userlando

"you weren’t just friends. friends didn’t touch you the way he did (or the one where max has an epiphany and realizes he's in love with his best friend)"

coming of age - @keerysfreckles

“in which a silly bet between the two redbull drivers becomes a reality when y/n wins the first race of the 2024 season”

tying you to me - @pierregazly

“[4 times] in which something coincidentally led back to max, and the [1 time] it turned out nothing was just a coincidence (in which everything has always tied max to you)”

denial is a man’s best friend - @marlenesluv

“ y/n and max have been friends since karting years, and now? now, they’re teammates at redbull. they are one of the best teammate duos in the grid, but what happens when max catches feelings?…or when everyone but them notices they are in love but themselves”

baby steps - @forteafy

“you've always been mercedes golden girl; your life and career have been set out in stone. all it takes is for your ultimate rival to change that all”

pick you up - @scuderiahoney

“when Max has one too many gin & tonics, you’re the one who picks (him) up, every time he calls”

temptations - @no-144444

“you and max are on break and things get out of hand. nothing like tmz to mess things up, right?”

never an interruption- @fastandcarlos

“you’re all ready to celebrate max’s win with him, only when you find someone already there to celebrate, you begin to question the role you truly play in max’s life”

little big fan - @thef1diary

“your daughter runs off while you were in the middle of grocery shopping because she spotted max, her favourite driver. meeting you, max wants to know everything about you and your six year old. so of course he finds excuses to keep meeting you, starting with inviting you to the dutch grand prix”

series

rule breaker series - @coff33andb00ks

“max has it all...right? besides, he's too busy collecting trophies and completing side quests for anything else. until... you moved across a whole ass ocean to start over, uprooting you and your son's lives to become social media admin for cars that drive in circles”

smau

yuck! series - @maxlarens - smau

“your aesthetic interest in max verstappen is purely professional, you swear”

won gold - @maxverstappendefender - smau

“olympic snowboarder!gf x mv1 (max being a complete simp for someone that doesn’t even know him)”

miami baby - @norrisainz33 - smau

“actress and avid f1 fan visits the paddock for the first time and she is a certain world champion’s celebrity crush”

worlds biggest fan - @astonmartinii - smau

“y/n is the president of the official max verstappen fan club, but nothing can come of that, right?”

*these are part of my fic rec masterlist, please note none of these are written by me and the author of each story had been tagged! check out my f1 fic rec masterlist for other drivers!*

[theonottsbxtch]

THE OTHER GUY PT.5 | FC43

an: i read this outloud to @diycriptheory and she said this sounded exactly like a lesbian's worst nightmare. so enjoy xx

part one | part two | part three | part four |

francolapinto’s story

[descanso y relajación]

The evening sun filtered through the curtains of your hotel room, casting a warm glow that did little to calm the knot tightening in your stomach. You glanced at the clock on the wall—it was almost time. Franco would be here soon.

You’d changed your outfit three times already, and even now, standing in front of the mirror, you weren't not sure if this was the right one. You smoothed your hands over your dress, biting your lip as you tried to steady your breathing. Why were you so nervous? It was just a date. A date with Franco.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of laughter in your room. Oscar and Logan had been hanging out, oblivious to your mounting anxiety. You stepped into the living room where they were lounging on the couch, both of them looking far too relaxed for your liking.

Oscar looked up at you and grinned. “You look… weirdly fancy.”

“Thanks,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Just the boost of confidence I needed.”

Logan chuckled. “Nervous much?”

Folding your arms, sitting on the edge of the desk, you raised a brow. “Is it that obvious?”

Oscar shrugged, grabbing a handful of chips from the bowl between them. “It’s not a big deal. It’s just a date.”

You shot him a look. “Easy for you to say. You’re not the one going on a date with a guy you’ve been pretending to hate for months.”

“Pretending?” Oscar teased, looking at you with an incredulous look.

“Okay, maybe not pretending,” you admit, “but I’ve definitely been giving him a hard time.”

Logan leant forward, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Come on, you’ll be fine. He likes you, obviously. And you’ve stopped hating him—right?”

You groan, sinking into the armchair beside the desk, across from them. “Yeah, I’ve stopped hating him. That doesn’t make this any less nerve-wracking. What if it’s awkward? What if I say something stupid?”

Tossing a chip at you, Oscar laughed. “You always say something stupid. He probably expects it by now.”

Grabbing the chip from where it landed on your lap, you threw it back at him, grumbling when he caught it in his mouth. “Not helping!”

Logan chirmed in again, more seriously this time. “Look, he’s probably just as nervous as you are. You guys have been in this weird back-and-forth for so long—tonight’s a chance to just… let it go. Be yourself.”

Oscar nodded, being serious for once and looking like he was giving this some thought. “Yeah, and if it goes bad, you can always blame me for getting you into this mess in the first place.”

“Or, blame me!” Logan added. “After all, he replaced me didn’t he?”

Laughing at Logan’s comment you went back to fiddling with your hands in your lap. “Yeah.”

There was a knock at the door, and for a second your heart skipped a beat. Taking a look at Oscar and Logan, you ignored the look on their faces, as though they were waiting for this all day.

“Good luck,” Logan said, winking.

Standing up and smoothing your dress again, you headed toward the door. Your palms sweaty, your heart racing, nerves clouding your mind —a sense that this night could change everything.

With one last deep breath, you opened the door, and there Franco was, standing in the hallway, looking just as handsome as ever. His eyes swept over you, and the smile he gave you made your stomach flip.

“Buenas tardes hermosa (good evening, beautiful),” he said, his voice soft but confident.

You could feel the warmth rising in your cheeks as you stepped out, closing the door behind you. “Thank you, you’re not so bad yourself.”

ynpiastri's story

[who likes my chat noir cosplay? 😴]

The soft murmur of the ocean is the only sound as you stepped out onto the balcony while Franco got some more drinks, the warm breeze brushing against your skin. The night was still, the air heavy with the scent of saltwater, and the faint glow of the stars above barely lit the secluded space. The dim ambiance makes everything feel more intimate, more charged.

You felt him before you saw him—his presence behind you was unmistakable. He stepped out, his footsteps soft on the stone floor, but when his gaze locked on yours, it felt like the world had shrunk to just the two of you. He leant casually against the railing, but there was nothing casual about the way his eyes were trailing over you.

“Nice view,” he said, voice low, thick with a tension that sent a thrill down your spine. There was a deeper meaning to his words, and you knew it.

You nodded, barely able to respond as your pulse quickened. “Yeah. It is.”

His eyes never left yours, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. The air between you felt thick, crackling with an unspoken anticipation. He pushed off the railing, moving toward you with slow, deliberate steps, his confidence evident in every movement.

“I’ve been thinking about this moment all night, hermosa” he murmured , his voice soft but heavy with meaning. He was standing close now, so close that the warmth of his body radiated toward you, and you could feel every breath you took deep in your chest.

Your throat tightened, and you glanced away, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by the intensity in his gaze. But he stepped even closer, his fingers lightly grazing your arm, and the simple touch sent shivers through you. Your skin tingling where his hand touched, and your heart racing faster.

“How’s it going so far?” you managed to ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Better than I imagined,” he said, his lips curling into a smirk, but his eyes were serious, dark with desire. His hand moved up to your shoulder, his thumb brushing against your bare skin with a tenderness that belied the hunger in his gaze.

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you thought about stepping back, about trying to get control over the situation. But something held you there, keeping you rooted in place as he stepped even closer, his chest almost brushing against yours. The tension between you was electric, and you feel it in every inch of your body.

“I didn’t think you’d actually ask me,” he admitted, his voice dropping lower, more intimate. He was so close now that you could feel the heat from his breath against your skin.

“I didn’t think I would either,” you whispered, your heart pounding in your chest. Every nerve in your body was on edge, waiting, anticipating.

His hand slid to your waist, fingers firm but gentle, pulling you just a fraction closer. You were close enough now that you could smell the faint scent of his cologne, something dark and intoxicating. Your skin tingled beneath his touch, and you could barely think straight with how close he was.

“I’ve been waiting for you to look at me like this,” he said softly, his lips just inches from yours. His eyes flicked down to your lips for a split second, and when they met yours again, they were filled with an intensity that made your knees feel weak.

“Like what?” you managed to ask, your voice barely audible, your pulse racing so fast it felt like your heart might burst out of your chest.

“Like you want this as much as I do.”

Before you could even respond, he closed the distance between the two of you, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was hot, fierce, and filled with a passion that you hadn’t expected. His hands tightened on your waist, pulling you flush against him as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping against yours in a way that made your whole body ignite.

You gasped into his mouth, your hands gripping his shoulders for balance as his kiss overwhelmed you. The softness of his lips contrasted with the raw hunger in his movements, and you found yourself melting into him, your body pressing against his like you couldn’t get close enough.

His hand slid up your back, fingers tangling in your hair as he tilted your head, giving him better access to your mouth. The kiss grew hotter, more intense, and you could feel the heat pooling low in your stomach, making you dizzy with want. His lips moved with a hunger that matched your own, and you felt like you were drowning in him, in the taste of him, in the way his hands roamed your body like he was memorising every inch of you.

Your fingers slid up to his neck, pulling him closer as the kiss became more desperate, more frantic. Every touch, every movement felt like it was setting your skin on fire, and you couldn't get enough of him. His body was solid and warm against yours, and the feel of him, the smell of him, was intoxicating.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you thought you may have seen something—a flicker of movement, a flash of light out of the corner of your eye—but you pushed it aside, too lost in the moment, too consumed by the heat of his kiss to care. Nothing else mattered right now except for him, here, with you.

His hands slid down to your hips, gripping you tighter as he pulled you impossibly closer, his mouth never leaving yours. You felt his chest rise and fall rapidly against you, his breathing just as ragged as yours. The kiss was searing now, filled with a desire that neither of you were holding back anymore.

When he finally pulled away, his lips lingered near yours, his forehead pressed against yours as you both caught your breath. His thumb brushed gently against your cheek, and you opened your eyes to find him staring at you, his gaze filled with something that made your heart skip a beat.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that, mi amor” he whispered, his voice hoarse but filled with certainty.

You smiled, your breathing still heavy, and as you looked into his eyes, you knew then and there that you wanted this just as much as he did. And that the two of you were far too gone to care about anything else.

twitter

imessage between franco and yn

the end.

taglist: @iimplicitt @isaadore @iamred-iamyellow @justheretoreadthxxs @obxstiles @how-what-why-huh @raizelchrysanderoctavius @sainzzreputaticn @xxx-betty @dukeofjjune @dejavuontrack @littlegrapejuice @mxdi0 @st4rgirl-ellie @dullypully @cinderellawithashoe

[burreauxsworld]

Can we get dad Joe where he has five boys all mini him and wife is pregnant with baby girl🌸

This is such a vastly different thing for me to write because I imagine Joe being the biggest girl dad but I’m gonna give it a shot!

~~~

The Burrow household is nothing short of chaos. A controlled chaos though. The kind of chaos that brings a smile to your face as you watch your four rambunctious little boys run around. You and your husband, Joe, have 4 little boys and a little girl on the way.

There’s Jackson and Joseph Jr, the twins and the two oldest at 7 years old. Then there’s Dylan, who’s 5. Lastly, Colby, who’s 3. All of them are carbon copies of your husband. With their big ocean blue eyes and curly dirty blonde hair.

Jackson, like Joe, is big into football. The two of them throw the ball back and forth for hours. Joseph on the other hand, is more of a mama’s boy. Just like his father before him. Whenever you went, little Joey went. Whenever Joe went, Jackson wasn’t far behind. The two little ones, however, could go either way. Sometimes they wanted you, sometimes they wanted Joe. It just depended on the day.

Today, it was the latter. You leaned against the door frame of the sliding glass doors leading to your backyard, watching as your husband and four boys played a game of football. Well, Colby attempted to play, but he mostly just stumbled around the yard messing with whatever random toys he could find.

A smile graced your lips as you watched your husband show his boys how to throw the perfect spiral. You laid a gentle hand on your baby bump, glancing down.

“Be prepared. This is your life” you mumble, looking back up at your boys. “Mama,” Colby babbles, while he stumbles toward you. “Mommy’s home!” Dylan tells, capturing the attention of his brothers and father. “And she brought dinner, because she doesn’t feel like cooking” you tell them, as little arms wrap around your lower half.

“Alright boys, careful. Don’t be too rough” Joe reminds them, planting a kiss on your forehead while the boys ran toward the kitchen table.

“How’s baby Gracie?” He asks with a smile. “Very active today. I think she might be the bengals newest kicker” you joke and he beams with pride. One thing Joe couldn’t wait for, was the arrival of his little girl.