#but I think all in all I just need to wait for after october when im no longer in a spooky mood

[ronanceautistic]

Yall- I feel bad for not having motivation to write selective mutism au like I want to want to I really do but im too into canon-ish universe rn and any time I try and write I just feel like it's a little shit because im not inspired enough 😭

like I wanna have funnn writing it because I really do love the story and it feels a shame to waste the rest of it on a me who is only doing it as an obligation really rather than wait till im more into it and actually properly enjoy writing the last few chapters

I think I just need to keep telling myself that first and foremost this is a hobby and if hobbies don't benefit the person doing them then there's no point to them at all and kill the part of my brain that feels bad for the three or so people that actually read the damn fic. sorry to those three people I do love you.

[slytherinslut0]

SLYTHERINSLUT0’S KINKTOBER

october 8th. tom — somno / free use kink.

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST. | 2024.

summary: tom riddle is a god at many things. you’ve never felt more alive than when you’ve reduced him to something lesser.

warnings: 18+, SMUT MDNI, free use, sleeping kink, a lot of reverence for more biblical tom riddle that i genuinely need to choke me unconscious, PIV, fingering, multiorgasm, overstim, slight bondage, dubcon but not really i mean this fic speaks for itself. tom is kinda soft here???? what happened to me??

Tom Riddle, you'd determined, was obsessive before he was anything else. You saw it long before you knew him—intimately, at least—his compulsions, the meticulous way in which he carved out his time, handpicking what fit his ambitions best before pouring himself into them until he was empty.

Tom never moved with half-measures, a man that brilliant does nothing halfhearted.

You didn't expect to become his fixation—didn't know what it meant to be seen by someone who never stopped searching—never stopped dissecting—until the moment when his eyes lingered just a second too long and his hands followed suit—the moment he taught you the meaning in the only way he knew how.

Benevolently.

Tom Riddles need is tempered but there's always something burning underneath, something that flickers to life when his breath catches against your neck—when his fingers trace delicate lines along your skin—something that feels a lot like a thank you. The magical world gave him power—dominion—but in you, he found control. The kind you give freely, without even knowing it, the kind that he takes with the same reverence in his hands he applies to everything he touches.

There’s always been a mutal give and take between you—one formed without words and you solemnize this unspoken vow because he leaves you no other choice.

And it's not by force, not by demand, but by the sheer intensity of his regard, that sacred hunger in the way he looks at you, like you were made for this. For him. To be unmade, piece by piece, worshipped in the ruins of what you once were and stitched back together by his grace alone. When he kneels at your feet after a day that's worn him thin, his eyes sharp with exhaustion— when he spreads you open as though you're a book of scripture, when his hands steady you and his mouth finds its way between your thighs—there's nothing left for you to do but hold onto him. Your fingers in his hair, letting him take—letting him consume you in ways only he can.

He is both salvation and sin. Saviour and ruin. You're not sure how it's possible but he ensures you believe it.

And it started with secret moments—stolen glances, brushes of fingers, impromptu study sessions. But it grew into something more, and then something more still, until one day he's slipping into your flat as though it's his own, finding you before you even realize he's there.

You'll be cooking dinner and without a word, he'll flick off the stove with a twitch of his fingers—a breath of magic—his appetite insatiable but not for any caloric substance. You pretend, for his sake, to be surprised by his power, the way he moves without moving, but he knows better now—knows that nothing he does surprises you anymore, not after the way he loosens the strings of your corset with just a blink, how his teeth scrape your ear in a smile as he works a spell between your thighs. Not after he waits until you're thoroughly ruined by his magic—malleable just the way he likes you before he's merciful, allowing you the honour of his touch—allowing himself the honour of breaking you further.

There's no shock left in it because you've already accepted that whatever you think he's capable of—there's more.

There will always be more with Tom—a knowledge that is a sweet, endless ache. He is reasoning made lucid. You could never define all that he is capable of.

And foolishly you thought after all these years you'd have come to understand him, but Tom Riddle is not easily deciphered—he's a mystery even to himself, a disposition of contradictions. He doesn't need to be understood; he only needs to feel as if he is, to which you do your best. But when you're finally asleep after a long day and feel the bed dipping behind you in the quiet hours—a large, rough hand grazing timidly up your thigh, comprehension of Tom Riddle becomes even more of a distant accomplishment.

There is no logic in him when it comes to you, just instinct. No explanations, just need.

Tom has always had his compulsions, but you are his favourite fixation, and so you give. There's hunger, and there's devotion. There's desire, and then there's worship. You let him choose which ones he wants from you.

On this night you stir, half-conscious yet not quite aware of what's happening as his fingers move slowly, finding the heat between your legs and spreading you gently. There's never any urgency in his movements, though the fervour is palpable—a kind of feverish desperation thrumming beneath the surface, a pulse you can feel in his flesh, in the way his breath catches as if this is the only way he knows how to breathe.

Perhaps the only certainty about Tom is that you know he wouldn't be here if it weren't a necessity.

And he does this often, though sometimes it's more—the plush of his lips, the slick slide of his tongue—but this time, he chooses to wake you to the steady push of his fingers inside you, two of them stretching you, deliberate in their rhythm, curling deep, coaxing you open. It's his mercy, his crafted version of tenderness—you know he could easily just cast a lubing charm and press right in—but he doesn’t. He paces, he savours.

It’s a patience he continually allows himself which you know he doesn't have to give.

And some nights, when you wake to his touch—he whispers for you to sleep, to let him have you quietly, other times he'll make it clear that's the last thing he wants.

Tonight—

You shift against him, instinct guiding your body, but he hushes you, gentle, soft—a tut of warning, a shushing breath against your ear. You don't know how long he's been inside you, how long his need has burned quietly beside you, but by the time you realize, it's the wet sounds, obscene, that draw you from the haze of sleep, drowning out the sharpness of his breath. You're half-gone, face pressed into the pillow, drooling— and your lips part on a moan that never fully forms.

When your hand reaches instinctively for his wrist, his growl curls low in your ear—

"Sleep," if the command was a weapon it'd be a feather—he casts a binding spell on your wrists, drawing them above your head. "I've got you."

You swallow another moan, throat dry, choking on air as you fight to rip free from whatever remnants of slumber you're clinging to. His fingers are slow, pumping in and out of you, dragging you deeper into his need—and you're shaking in a way that is as involuntary as it is habitual. You know from experience just how much he loves this— the way he reduces you to fragments, the way he breaks you apart until there's nothing left but the shattered pieces of your pleasure—the mess he can make of you in minutes, even absentmindedly.

He slips an arm under your head, pulling you closer, impossibly close. The room is dark, and though you can't see him, you imagine his face—the hunger in his eyes as his skin sticks to yours, the hard evidence of his need against your ass.

"T-Tom—" your voice stumbles, a choked whisper of his name. His hand curls over your mouth, silencing you.

"Quiet," he mutters. "It's just a dream."

His breath ghosts over your neck, and your back arches in response. Wherever he was earlier, he came back starving, and this is part of it—sometimes he wants you silent, sometimes he wants you loud. Tonight, he wants you like this.

"Stay still," he murmurs again, and you shudder, your climax pulled from the edges of sleep by the slow drag of his fingers inside you. "Just a dream..."

A dream, he says—somewhere inside you, buried under a fog of grog you know it isn't, and he knows you know, he's not trying to trick you but it's all part of the game—coaxing—the way he devours you a little more each time, not just physically but mentally too.

With your lips muffled by his hand and his fingers buried deep, you do what you always do—you let him.

"T-Tom—" you whimper through the cracks in his digits. Your body is soft, boneless, melting into his touch, aching for more. "Please—"

As much as he wants you quiet he wants his name broken in your mouth all the same. He rewards you with a bitten-off moan, a crack in his control, a slight hitch in his breath—you clench around his fingers and his palm tightens over your mouth just a little too hard before he realizes and eases up.

You did say Tom's need was tempered—but sometimes, there are exceptions.

"I said quiet." His hips rut against your ass, fingers slow dragging at your walls, scissoring in your slick. "Let me give you this."

You push back into him, desperate, needy. "But—"

"Take it." His fingers on your mouth slide past your lips and over your tongue, reaching toward the back of your throat. Tears spring to your eyes as you gag, the sound smothered by the moan you make as a spell, swirling and tightening, pulses against your clit. "With the way I'm going to fuck you, you need this...you'll thank me later for it..."

Tom doesn't waste words. His tone may be soft but it's also sharp, which tells you everything you need to know—that he's had a wretched day and you're the only thing that can make it better. That he's going to fuck out his frustrations on you.

You moan around his fingers at the thought.

"You'll want to be nice and stretched for me, won't you?" A statement, not a question. "You don't want it to hurt. You know I don't want to hurt you."

Though he'll deny it, he's not as emotionless or as lacking in empathy as he'd like to believe. It's one of the many things you've come to know about him—or should you say, one of the many things you've struggled to understand about him—but the way he says it, like he's reminding himself not to be cruel—it's all very Tom Riddle.

"I don't want to hurt you.." he repeats in a murmur, as if he's trying to convince himself. You can't speak, though you're not sure you could find the words even if you could; the only indication you give him that you understand—that you hear him—is the quiet whimper that slips past his fingers. "Just need you."

The spell on your clit is as overwhelming as the drag of his fingers against your walls and it's only moments until you're cumming hard around him and he's groaning hard in return—you know his eyes are closed and you know he's inhaling every single sound you make as though he could house them in his lungs. The darkness clings to you like a second skin but Tom clings to you worse—not relenting even as you're twitching and whimpering with aftershocks.

"There we go." You're squirming and Tom fucking loves it. "Good girl."

Overstimulation is charging in—you have no where to run from it. You bite down on his digits in your mouth and he punishes you by intensifying the spell on your clit. "T-Tom—Tom—"

All he offers is a shush. His fingers curl deep.

"I need...I need you...need this.." he's mumbling, mantra-like, almost like a prayer and perhaps that's the closest he's come to one. You can count on one hand the amount of times you've heard him say it but you know there's no one else he'd be saying it to—no one else he'd want to. "You know, I thought of this all day...having you, like this..."

You sob around his fingers in your mouth as he rips another climax from you—you think you're seeing stars and you know if you are, they were hung there by him.

"Couldn't focus.." his teeth find your jaw, just under your ear, biting just a little harder than he usually does. "No matter what I did, I just kept thinking of this...of you...of you like this for me.."

Tom Riddle is a greedy man—in all ways—but he's not only greedy in the way he takes from you, he's greedy in the way he gives to you too, and though he would never admit it—he'd rather die first—this moment feels as close to worship as he'll ever come.

As you said, there's reverence in everything he fucking touches—you know you're lucky you get to experience it.

"You have this effect." He swallows hard, you feel it against your shoulder. "You have this effect on me...I—I can't stop wanting you-“

—and he's just a man, after all. No matter how well versed in dark spells and manipulation, no matter how cold and calculating he's able to be, beneath it all he's so very mortal. He tells you he was never made for love but when he buries his face in your neck and talks this talk it sure feels like maybe he was.

And all it does is make you want him that much more—knowing that you do this to him—you make him weak. You make him want and need and yearn.

"I don't even know what you've done to me," his voice is destroyed—his thoughts cut off by the evidence of your desperation for him, the lewd sounds coming from your pussy as you suck on the fingers in your mouth. "Fuck, you're so wet."

You groan, helpless and needy as a whore. Tom digs his teeth into your shoulder. It's all too much. There are many ways to come apart and this is Tom's only true undoing—in the aftermath of the destruction he causes, and you are—his collateral.

"Fuck—oh, fuck—" you're garbling, the words don't sound like words. "T-Tom—"

You're not sure how long you've been awake or how many times you've cum—how much oxygen you've inhaled since this all started but the one certainty is that you know Tom has very little patience left—if any.

"Fuck." He shifts, grinding against you. "Can you take me? Can you take me right now?"

All you can do is nod—your eagerness evident in the pace of it—drool dribbling down your chin and instantly the spell fades from your clit, his fingers pull out of your cunt and he's lifting your thigh up toward your head, fingers still hooked in your mouth. There's a moment of movement—trousers and boxers pulled down and then he's there—thick and heavy and warm between your thighs. You tense.

You'll never get used to the size of him. His ego made flesh. Though perhaps the greatest pleasure is in knowing he'll never get used to you, either.

"Gonna—gonna fuck you." He mutters against your neck as he glides along your slit—you're soaked, slick coating your thighs and the sheets and him but it never matters much because it always stings when he takes you. Especially like this. "It won't be soft."

You moan and he finally pulls his fingers free from your mouth, dragging them down to your throat, nails against your skin that feel more like claws because for all the human Tom Riddle is he's just as much animal.

He's never known soft—only with you—but you wouldn't have him if not for all his jagged lines and sharp edges. You let him take.

"Please, Tom-" words fail you, they always do when he's like this. "Please, gods—fuck me-"

Tom growls and it vibrates up your spine. You rarely curse when you can help it—so when you do, when you can't do anything to stop the pathetic vulgarities—he likes it too goddamn much and you know he's going to give you what you want because you give him what he needs.

A mutual give and take, as all the best things are.

"No god could compare to me." He doesn't say it with arrogance, just with certainty, like a letter he's written a thousand times. Then, he's flipping you onto your stomach, wrists still bound above your head as he lines up and presses inside you—all at once, deep and full and breathtaking. "Oh, yes—"

You cry out but it's muffled by the pillow, your cunt trying hard to adjust to the stretch—Tom is never cruel, but he is brutal, and perhaps the two get confused. There is a difference, though you know he would prefer to remain ambivalent on his own harshness, it’s the only way he's managed to survive this long—but here, with you, he thinks he can allow for a bit of mercy.

And he gives it, in his own way, only because you gave it first. It's as close as he'll come to offering himself without asking anything in return. To you, it's still a pretty close second.

"I'm going to make you feel this," he murmurs, lips against your shoulder, teeth against skin and if you had any tears left, this would be when they fell. "You'll think of this all day tomorrow. You'll think of me all day tomorrow."

He pauses inside you—he's taking it slow and the implications of that fact are far out of reach right now.

"I'll think of you anyway, Tom," you grit through your teeth, voice cracking on his name as he pulls out—only halfway—ensuring you feel that emptiness before he presses back in. "I'm—ohh—a-always thinking of you."

He makes a sound, a broken sort of sound, the same one you've heard him make only a handful of times—a raw, vulnerable, almost pathetic sound and all it does is make you want him that much more. He's still moving too slow, too methodically, drawing pleasure out from deep under your skin.

You clench around him because you know he doesn't want you to—he warns you against it with a cervix-piercing thrust.

"You're always thinking of me." His hand snakes around your throat, his lips to your ear—"and are you proud of that?"

You know that's a loaded question, the answer to which he doesn't truly care to know. But it's one you'll answer truthfully, regardless—because you know it'll affect him either way.

You nod, just once—and the grip on your neck tightens, cutting off an almost sob. His hips piston faster now, as though you've chipped off another piece of his control.

"Proud enough, then," he growls, his pace unforgiving, and that's enough to tear another broken sound from you—from the both of you. His fingers twist painfully around your throat, digging into your skin like a man possessed, and you know that means he's done holding back. His mouth is next to your ear, you can feel his smirk. "M'sorry—I'm—sorry—"

He says he's sorry but you know he's not. Not with the way he's groaning into your ear, not with the way he's driving his cock fast and deep. He is a manmade monster and a self-made god trapped inside a mortal man who needs so much to feel human. He knows to be nothing but intense. It's a wonder how the three can exist in him all at once.

"T-tom-" your voice fractures around his name, the only word you know now. "F-fuck—s'deep—ohh-"

His teeth sink into your neck as he cranks your head back with a pull of your hair, bared teeth on preyish flesh and you hardly have time to worry how deep he might devour because you feel his magic on your clit and you see those stars again—distant yet creeping closer, drawn down to your orbit by his power alone.

"M'sorry—" he mutters again, as though he was saying it to your cervix. "Fuck—"

You scream out again as the spell on your clit swirls faster—the sensation unfathomable each and every time—he's fucking you so hard you're burning underneath him and though the pleasure is as white hot as the flames that now cover every inch of you, you don't fear burning as much as you fear it's passing.

He's a fire in your veins, in your blood, and if he stops now you'll die of the cold.

"So good for me," he says, as soft as he can muster for being so lustdrunk— "so—perfect. You're perfect."

Perfect. You whinge and squeeze your eyes shut—choking on your breath. The words are more painful than his thrusts because time and time again you’ve failed to decipher their meaning—you know he doesn't believe in perfection, the concept too weak and foolish for his sake—but he's said it before, always in times like this—you are perfect.

You're perfect under his hands. You're perfect when you shatter apart for him, in the darkness, under the light of those stars he dragged down for you. 

"Ohh—fuck—Tom—" another climax wracks you, splitting you at the seams. "I'm—I'm—"

It feels like an earthquake and you're the epicenter, all the power and destruction Tom thrusts into you radiating from within you outward. His hand moves from your throat to your jaw, tilting your face back so he can kiss you, messily, open-mouthed and with teeth. But it's still a kiss. Something he rarely does.

"Yeah, yeah. Good—" he grunts into your mouth. "Mmfff—fuck—tight—“

A second later, he's cumming, a broken string of profanity tumbling from his chest into your mouth, release spilling deep inside you, warm and thick and he holds you tighter for it as you whimper and throb around him. Tom has always had his reservations. Always had his long list of fixations—and like you said, he pours himself empty into the ones he's chosen. It's in moments like these where you feel it more than ever—as his hips slow and his cock stops twitching inside you—the way that he's made you part of that list.

And when he's done moving through you—when he's done taking what he needs—he pulls away, yet he's still there. Freeing your wrists and rubbing them gently, curling you against him as you both descend.

"Thank you." He murmurs, face in your hair.

You tell him he doesn't need to thank you but you know it makes no difference. After all, he's still a man. A man with something to prove, even under a sky full of stars he dragged down for you.

Tom is a god at many things. You've never felt more alive than when you've reduced him to something lesser.

[imagining-in-the-margins]

Love Bites (S.R.)

Summary: Spencer struggles to control himself when Reader wears a turtleneck.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Second person POV, established relationship, hickeys, neck biting, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, fingering Word Count: 3.1k

MASTERLIST

It wasn’t until mid-October that the air began to reflect the season. The warmth, while appreciated, had outstayed its welcome. But then, one morning you woke to an open window. The wind whistled through with nipping breath that came as a shock and settled deep in your lungs.

It was finally the time you’d been waiting all summer for.

With a newfound pep in your step, you slipped into a simple turtleneck—perfectly flattering and taut over each curve. Its collar brought a warmth with it that felt like a familiar lover’s embrace. It was a simple, mindless decision to wear it. A creature comfort. You thought nothing of how it might pique curiosity or wandering eyes.

That was, until you stepped into the bullpen and were greeted with the devilish grin of Derek Morgan.

“It’s a bit early in the season for a turtleneck, isn’t it?” he asked with an accusatory tone.

“What do you mean?” you shot back innocently. 

You should’ve known better than to ask.

“Are you hiding something?”

The implication brought blood rushing to your face. Your mind flashed back to memories of the last, distant time that your neck had needed covering. The last time that your lover had had his fill of you.

You shook the thought away just as quickly. You weren’t prepared to give Derek the satisfaction of your embarrassment. You scoffed, instead. 

“Ha-ha, very funny.”

Your efforts backfired almost immediately as the man stood from his seat and stepped closer.

“That’s not a no,” he crooned from just behind you.

That time, you answered by peeking over your shoulder to lock eyes with your curious friend. You flashed a smile and a quizzical brow before you returned his teasing with some of your own.

“I think you’re just trying to see some skin.” 

The fire in his eyes sparked from the challenge. With a confident twirl of his finger, Derek continued, “I think you’re hiding something.”

But, luckily for you, he had been wrong.

(This time, anyway.)

All it took was a simple tug of your finger beneath the collar. A little pull of snug fabric to reveal the unmarred skin beneath it.

“Here,” you said with a chuckle. “Happy yet, perv?”

Derek glanced down, just long enough to inspect the skin and see nothing strange. Then he shook his head and accepted defeat with an even brighter smile.

“Fine,” he sighed before quickly adding, “For now.”

The threat, uttered in jest, was overhead by another. A man who was by no means pleased by the not-at-all-cordial exchange between coworkers.

As you took your seat, Spencer’s disgruntled frown catches your eye from the neighboring cubicle. Before you could even ask what was wrong, he spoke. His voice was hushed and rushed with an undercurrent of frustration. 

“You have to stop,” he muttered without even looking up. 

The overly serious, cryptic manner of speaking was difficult to take seriously.

“What?” you asked through a chuckle. 

“You have to stop…” he repeated before adding, “torturing me.”

At first you laughed. But after a moment, you realized just how much desire was laced through the words.

Spencer’s bottom lip quivered as it turned into the most pitiful little pout. His cheeks were twinged pink, and his jaw was tightly wound. Your gaze fell to bouncing legs that quickly shuffled closer together, as if trying to hide… something.

“… Are you serious?” you asked in a whisper.

Spencer’s eyes snapped shut before he brought his hands to cover his face in shame. It didn’t help. As soon as he was deprived of your inquisitive eyes, he was met with perfectly captured memories of the last time the two of you had alone.

Memories of how you looked, bare and writhing beneath him in his bed. Memories of his face buried in your neck, laying sloppy kisses over skin that reverberated with your sweet sounds of pleasure.

His hands left his face quickly, shifting to grab his sweater in an attempt to cover the inopportune evidence of his lust.

“Really?!” you said louder than you’d meant to, “You’re—?”

Pink cheeks turned to a deep shade of maroon as he struggled to reclaim control over his own body.

“Shut up,” he snapped.

“Really?” you asked again, anyway.

Spencer nodded in defeat. His struggle was obvious but enjoyed by at least one of you.

That’s why you decided to make it worse. 

“That’s all it took?” you asked. Tucking your finger back beneath the fabric covering your neck, you once again revealed the hidden skin. Then, seemingly innocent, you drawled, “This?”

“Cut it out!” he squeaked.

His hand shot up from his lap, grabbing hold of your arm and tugging it down as far as he could. At first, the fabric came down, too. Just enough for him to see the hollow center between collarbones.

But then the collar snapped back into place, and he exhaled with relief.

Once he finally managed to make eye contact again, though, he found no mercy. Instead, he found an excited, sinful smile stretching over your cheeks.

“Awwwe. That’s so pathetic,” you cooed.

Like a puppy in the face of punishment, Spencer returned to the confines of his cubicle without another word. You caught his eye again as your tongue darted forward and caught between your teeth.

He peered at you from a safe distance and tried to ignore the way you were looking at him. It was impossible for him to ignore, though. Not when you rewarded him with a small giggle.

“You’re so damn cute,” you said.

Spencer tried to appear unaffected, but you saw how his lips began to turn up and his neck burned red.

“Can you keep it quiet, actually?” he said with feigned confidence. It faded almost immediately after he met your eyes. Then his voice trembled as he explained, “I’m trying to… do… work… stuff.”

The sight warmed your heart enough that you’d decided to allow him a brief reprieve. You were at work, after all. You could always toy with him later.

“Okay, I’ll stop torturing you,” you sighed once more.

And for the first time that morning, Spencer sputtered a laugh as he answered, “Thank you.”

True to your word, you’d returned to work. You spent the rest of the day trying not to think about turtlenecks and collars and other ways to torture your boyfriend. Your thoughts had stayed as innocent as possible.

But if you’d paid closer attention, you might’ve seen how the hunger in his eyes intensified throughout the day. You might’ve felt the unbridled lust burning through him grew each time you readjusted that simple circle of fabric.

By the time you’d arrived at home, the desire was so all-encompassing that it left him nearly senseless. Unbeknownst to you, he’d been waiting for the moment he heard the door click shut. The moment he could have you again.

“What did you want to do for dinner, by the way—,” you’d started. The words never made it.

The first thing you felt were his hands. Broad and strong and digging into your hips with enough power to elicit a gasp.

You both stumbled clumsily until your back hit the wall. Spencer kissed you with an equal gracelessness. His lips crashed against yours with enough excitement that your teeth bumped and dew gathered on your upper lip.

It was a moment of desperation, a longing to be closer to you as quickly as possible.

You couldn’t help but laugh.

“Oh, wow, you weren’t joking earlier, were you?” you managed between return kisses.

Spencer finally relented, if only for a moment. Seemingly comforted by the sound of your laughter, his movements shifted to slower, more intentional worship. One hand lifted to cradle your cheek. Spencer let out a shaky exhale when he felt you return the gesture with some weight. A subtle showing of trust, of safety, of love.

He kissed you again because he couldn’t help himself. But this time, as he pulled away, he slurred a non-answer that told you everything you’d needed to know.

“You’re so pretty.”

You’d had the thought to tease him for his at-times-excessive flattery. But Spencer found another way to take your breath away.

That beautiful, brilliant boy dragged his hand from your jaw to your collar and quickly pulled it down. Just enough to make room for his eager, insatiable tongue.

A breathy moan came out instead of words. A wonderful, encouraging sound that only made him want more.

You, too, wanted more. Quick hands began uncoordinated efforts to disrobe one another while shuffling towards the bedroom. The awkward stumbling brought you back to a simpler time. A teenage-esque love, an exploration of intimacy that was repeatedly broken by giggles and gasps.

When you finally managed to pull his pants down his hips, you were met with a firmness pressed against you.

“Someone’s eager,” you purred against parted lips.

But Spencer’s voice had shifted to a softer, breathier register.

“I’ve been waiting all day,” he whined, “just to kiss you.”

It was a sweet sentiment that became even sweeter when he pressed his erection harder against you.

You grinned before your tongue sneaked between your teeth.

“I think you want to do more than that,” you said like a dare.

His hands and tongue had already made a mess of you, but you stood proudly on display for him. Beneath your collar, Spencer could spot minuscule red speckles already blooming across your neck.

“Yes, please,” he relented before his lips sought yours again.

You broke apart quicker this time, only to make room for you to remove his shirt. When you’d attempted to remove your own, however, his hands gripped your wrists with enough force to make you jump.

“Wait!” he cried. With wild yet hooded eyes, he begged, “Leave it on.”

You couldn’t say no when he’d looked at you like that. Like you were the most beautiful creature carved and perfected by the Gods, made to be worshipped by tongue and teeth.

You had both grown tired of the time spent those few inches apart. Quickly, you both stripped and stepped out of your underwear on your own. You’d even managed to shed the bra beneath your shirt in a swift movement that Spencer was convinced constituted magic.

You stumbled together once more, falling back into the bed and crawling over one another until you’d settled into the other’s arms.

Spencer was above you looking down on the disheveled beauty beneath him. He used one hand to carefully turn your face toward his rather than its more scandalous attempt to peer down between your bodies.

He didn’t tease you, though. Not with his words, anyway. He trailed his finger slowly and ever so softly down your features. Down your jaw and over the bunched-up collar. With more pressure, he dragged over the pebbled peak of your breast.

There was a tense silence as he concentrated on visualizing every inch of skin that lay beneath your shirt. His mouth hung open, his breath coming out shaky and hot with need.

Once he reached the hem of your shirt, his mouth was quick to return to your neck. His tongue tickled the sensitive skin enough to cause goosebumps to ripple over your skin. Your fingers tangled in his hair to pull him closer. He obliged in more than one way.

You’d almost lost track of his hands until they were all you felt. Lithe fingers sneaked between your thighs and ran through already wet folds. He gathered the honeyed substance on one finger before sinking into you. There was little resistance, your body succumbing to his touch like it had done a hundred times before.

You sighed with relief as his finger began moving inside you with gentle strokes.

Spencer’s kisses moved up, teeth nipping at your ear before he chuckled.

“I can’t believe you called me pathetic,” he whispered in a lower register than you were used to.

You shivered and he felt it. Another finger pressed into you as his movements became more hurried. His own need twitched against your thigh when a soft whine escaped your lips.

“You know how much I love it when you’re pathetic,” you said with great struggle.

Any attempt to win back the power had been quickly lost as Spencer growled, “Clearly.”

Instead of giving in to a more primal desire, though, you just laughed, “Oh, be quiet.”

As you kissed him, you felt his smile.

“Fine,” he sighed. “There are better things to do with my mouth, anyway.”

He kept the first few kisses chaste—a strong contrast to the lewd sound of your moans as his fingers began making gentle circles around your clit. He kept that pattern with quick kisses all over your face until his hand finally withdrew.

He drew his nose along your jaw as a failed distraction. There was simply no way not to notice when he aligned himself between your legs.

Your stomach tensed as the sensations bordered on overwhelming. For a moment, all you could focus on was the feeling of his breath puffing hot against the fabric covering your neck. But then with one smooth movement, he’d entered you to the hilt.

Then, as if his mouth and manhood were fighting for your attention, he yanked your collar down and latched onto your neck with more fervor than you’d thought possible. The fabric strained and creaked, but you couldn’t find it in you to care.

At first, Spencer merely ground his hips harder against you, seeking some deeper refuge than you could offer. While his lips made quick work to mark your neck, your nails did the same to his back. You violent carved into the flesh with the utmost love. Spencer’s teeth did much the same.

When his hips finally withdrew, his thrusts were hurried and bruising. All of the silent tension of the day had led to this moment of catharsis. The animalistic blend of your bodies left you panting and keening for more.

“Spencer,” you choked on a pleasured sob, “don’t stop.”

He didn’t. Instead, he switched sides of your neck and began suckling at your pulse until you felt dizzy. Seeking to find that fast-approaching euphoria, you pressed his head against your neck until his teeth had to part to make room for more of you.

“Harder,” you gasped.

He took it literally, teeth sinking into soft skin with little hesitation. His hips moved more intentionally, too. Your back arched from the overstimulation and he took full advantage of the new angle.

With each thrust, you felt your body change. You could feel the subtle ache buried beneath mountains of pleasure. Spencer’s teeth released your neck just in time for you to throw your head back once more.

He left sloppy kisses on the wound he’d inflicted before quickly moving on to whatever unmarked skin he could find. Everything about him screamed desperation, an insistence for what he’d wanted most of all.

You. Every single inch of you.

And you, in return, sought to surrender it to him. He accepted it with greedy hands and tongue. But eventually, he felt how you trembled from the onslaught of pleasure. He, too, found himself reaching a height unknown. His lips got looser, his breath heavier and his hips stuttering as he licked the sweat beading on your neck.

“Mine,” he growled like some feral beast.

“Yours,” you answered much the same.

That simple concession was all it took for him to finally fall apart. With one final thrust, Spencer came to your deepest point and spilled his warmth. The kisses he’d tried to continue against your neck were broken with a low groan that reverberated through your bones.

Everything in that moment felt like him. Everything in that moment tasted like you.

Both of your bodies collapsed the moment it was over. Spencer nuzzled further against your neck, still seeking its innocent warmth despite the debauchery he’d covered it with.

Before you’d had a chance to think about it, he pulled your collar higher to near touch your chin. The movement emanated with guilt.

“Hey, so,” he chuckled softly.

You waited, suspicious, before answering.

“I think you should, um…” he mumbled. Then, bracing himself for the backlash, he quickly finished, “You should probably wear a turtleneck for the next couple of days.”

But instead of chastisement, you rewarded him with a laugh.

“Son of a bitch,” you said through gritted teeth.

You looked down at the man resting atop you. Of course, you felt the aching of freshly bloomed bruises all over of your neck. But you also felt the soft twitches of him still inside you. The warmth of his tired breath against your jaw and his fingers gently stroking your side. You saw and felt the quiet comfort of his company—animalistic desire and all.

“Worth it,” you decided.

You changed your mind a couple days later.

As you stood in the center of the bullpen, once again adorned with the highest collar you owned, Derek Morgan stared you down.

Like a child being chastised, you averted your eyes as quickly as you could.

Immediately, his usual, devilish grin had morphed into full-bodied laugh.

“Really? Again?!” he cried. “Now I know you’re hiding something!”

You scoffed, trying to hide your increasingly obvious anxiety.

“You’re a menace,” you said. You offered nothing more. In fact, you felt compelled to raise your shoulders and tilt your head, further shielding your neck from view.

“Oh? No peek show today, huh?” he practically giggled.

You said nothing. Your glare said everything.

“What you got under there?” he taunted. With another step closer, he crossed his arms to match you. He was close enough that your hair stood on edge and your muscles tensed.

“You don’t want anyone to see your little love bites?”

He wanted a reaction you nearly gave him. You fought every urge in your body urging you to run. Instead, you stood your ground and stared him directly in the eyes.

Then, deadpan, you said the most terrifying thing you could.

“… I’m reporting you to HR.”

You turned on your heel. Rushing off (with no intention of actually reporting him), you heard the panic beneath several layers of suave confidence.

“Awe, come on!” he laughed. “It doesn’t have to be like that!”

Derek chased after you. And that time, Spencer felt no need to follow. He left you in the lurch and stayed seated at his desk. It was the best way he knew to guard your secrets.

But if anyone had been paying attention, they would’ve seen how he smiled. 

They might’ve even noticed how much it matched the bruises beneath your shirt.

Tell me what you thought about this fic here!

[luvyeni]

❛NO NUT NOVEMBER❜ ( s. jake )

p. sim jaeyun x fem!reader w. 2.5k+

— 𖦹 warnings. unprotected sex, name calling, dry humping, name calling

— 𖦹 ( making jakes life a living after he challenges himself with his friends in no nut november ) !

OCTOBER 31, 2023 —  THE NIGHT BEFORE !

“What would do if you had to give up sex for a month?” Heeseung asked, “Could you do it?”  Jay scoffed at the question. “You’re asking Jake of all people.” Jake smirked shamelessly — “Me? I could definitely do it, but my girl? No she would kill me if I didn’t give her what she wants.”

And he wasn’t wrong, you and jake were known as the couple who was still in their honeymoon phase — couldn’t keep your hands off each other. “Don’t blame just yn, you both are two nymphomaniac, neither of you could do it.” Sunghoon said. “You wanna bet?”

“You guys want to make this a competition?” Heeseung said. “Who ever wins, the losers have to all pitch in and buys the winner the newest game system.” Jake eyes widened, he couldn’t past this up — but you were gonna kill him, you weren’t gonna be happy. “Fine I can’t wait to get a new game.” Heeseung said, jake scoffed. “Please you’re gonna be jerking off by 1 o’clock.” He stood up.

“Where are you going jake?” Jay said, he checked the time, 8 o’clock. “Where do you think I still have 4 hours, i’m going home to fuck my girl then beg for her not to kill me.”

“Fuck!” You screamed as jake slammed into your sopping cunt, your ankle digging into his back. “Jake i’m cumming!” You moaned, “I’m cumming!” He grunted, fucking into you, soon his warm load was spilling into your cunt. “Fuck baby you feel so good.” He sighed, slipping out of you. “Fuck baby I love your pussy so much.”

He got up to get a rag to clean you off — leaving you to ponder, this sex felt different, like it felt like the sex you’d have have when he was sorry for something. You watched him clean you up, helping you into a pair of his underwear along with his shirt. “What did you do?” Sat up.

He laid down next to you, his hand resting on your thigh. “Well you what No Nut November is right?” Of course you weren’t stupid, you just didn’t think your boyfriend was stupid enough to do something like that — but the look on his face made you think other wise.

“Jake no.” You whined, “i’m sorry baby.” He said. “Why would you even agree to do something like that?” You tried to make sense of it. “A new game system.” He said, you stared blankly at him. “I’ll go buy you the game system now, go get my computer.” You said, he laughed. “No baby, you know I can’t allow you to do that, only I spend money in this relationship.”

“It’s just a month, I swear — besides I can still make you cum in other ways.” All though you love his fingers and his plumps lips — his cock just hit different. “Whenever you need me just need to sit that pretty ass on my face and I can give you what you want.” He smirked. “Or I can use my fingers if you like.” His hands traveled up your legs.

“Let’s go again.” He said, his cock hardening all over again. “No, i’m sleepy.” He whined, knowing you were just punishing him. “Baby please, it’s still 20 minutes left.” He said, but it fell on death ears. “Go jerk off.” You heard him huff, before you heard shuffling and him getting off the bed. “Have fun.” You smirked, you were gonna make him wish he never even thought about this stupid ass challenge.

NOVEMBER — WEEK ONE !

It had been about a week since jake basically put you on a no sex band — you both had been pretty busy with your own separate lives that week, so you were too tired to even think about sex at the end of the day.

But today you both had a day off — and you were definitely feeling needy. “Hi baby.” You walked into the living-room where jake was watching tv. He smiled as you climbed into his lap, his hands resting on your lower back. “Hey princess you okay.”

You nodded, running your hands through his hair. “Just a little bored.” You said, he completely missed what you were implying. “Yeah?” He sighed as you played with his soft locks. “You want to go out and do something?” You shook your head, he closed his eyes, you smirked at how easy your boyfriend was — you don’t even know why he chose to do this.

You began to place little kisses on his jaw, down to his neck. “Baby.” He warned, his breath shaky. “Baby, let’s calm down.” But of course you didn’t listen, jake felt his cock twitching in his jeans, he couldn’t go out like this, he had something to prove, but jesus you weren’t making it easy.

“Jakey i’m just getting myself off, you said I could use you if I needed.” You smirked, grinding down on his boner. “Y-yeah baby, but -fuck- just let me eat you then.” He groaned, but you didn’t answer, too busy trying to get yourself off.

He groaned as you rocked back and forth, your moans wrapping around his brain. “Jake!” You squealed. “Jakey i’m gonna cum.” He was fighting demons right now — trying his best not to lift you up and fuck you stupid on the couch. “Fuck i’m cumming!” You yelled, legs shaking as you came.

“Baby.” He whined, his cock was hard as a fucking rock — he was scared to even think a dirty thought cause he wasn’t sure that we wasn’t going to cum untouched. “You cannot do that, i’m not gonna make it if you’re like this.” He said. You smiled, sitting up kissing his cheek. “Just cause you did this to yourself doesn’t mean I should suffer should I?” you got off the couch.

“Where are you going?” He asked, his cock still hard. “Gonna shower, i’m all sticky and sweaty.” He groaned, throwing his head back against the couch.

You were not gonna make this easy for him at all.

NOVEMBER — WEEK TWO !

“Please.” You begged, but jake wasn’t letting up. “It’s just a shower.” You pouted, he couldn’t say no to that — but he knew you weren’t gonna just shower with him in peace. “baby I know where you’re going with this.”

“Please, just a shower, I swear.” He look into your puppy like eyes, he sighed — how was he so desperately wrapped around your fingers. “Fine, just a shower.” You nodded, grabbing his hand guiding you to your shared bedroom.

You undressed yourself — jakes eyes traveled across your body, your perky boobs on display, your plump ass on display as you turned on the water. “Come on.” He waited for you to step in before he followed, standing behind you. “Jesus princess this water is hot as hell.”

You smiled, turning around facing him, reaching up wrapping your arms around his shoulders, the water running down your body, in between your boobs — you weren’t even doing anything but his cock was already hardening, twitching against your stomach. “Shit baby, I don’t think I can be in here long, your pretty body is too distracting.”

“Why wont you just quit them?” Your hand traced up and down his abs — light grazing his cock, but it was enough to have him hissing. “it’s just a stupid game system.” You said, he groaned — he knew you’d be like this, but he fell right into your trap anyway. “It’s not just the game, it’s to prove I have self control.”

“You don’t and that’s why I love you.” You kissed his chest, he sighed. “Im so horny jakey.” You whined, he closed his eyes trying to calm down. “You want me to finger you princess?” He hoped that would calm you down, but you just whined, shaking your head. “Your fingers aren’t enough anymore, I need your cock.”

You grabbed the base of his cock. “B-baby.” He stuttered. “I need you inside me.” You prayed he’d let up and fuck you — you almost had him. “Please.”

Fuck he couldn’t, he had something to prove. “Baby im sorry.” He said, you pouted. “Just a little longer I swear.” You released his cock and he let out a groan. “You’re so mean.” You pouted, he smiled. “Don’t smile at me.” You said, folding your arms.

“You almost had me baby.” He kissed your forehead. “Now im gonna get out and let you finish your shower.” He said, stepping out wrapping his towel around his waist. “What about me, im still horny.”

“you said it yourself princess, my fingers aren’t enough anymore.” He teased, leaving the bathroom. You cursed, he won this time.

But you weren’t gonna let him win that easily…

NOVEMBER — FINAL WEEK !

“Fuck.” He groaned, looking at the numerous of photos and videos you decided to grace him with — he had to stay at his dorm this week, but that didn’t stop you from torturing him via messages. His cock was desperately trying to free itself from his jeans as he looked at a video that you sent of you rutting against his pillow.

“Fuck shes trying to kill me.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “The hell is wrong with you?” Jay said. “You’ve been groaning for the past hour, someone might think we’re in here doing something.” Jake couldn’t even laugh he was that turned on.

“It’s yn, she has not been easy on me these past couple weeks.” He said, jay laughed watching his friend stress out. “Yeah, haha make fun of me, how the hell are you not going through what i’m going through?” He and jay were the last ones standing with heeseung out the second week — claiming he’d just buy the game himself, and sunghoon who found himself giving up the night of jakes birthday party, with one of your friends.

“Because i’m not a sex crazed person and I can control myself.” Jay said, jake groaned once again. “I didn’t expect her to be like this.” He said looking at the the newest photo of you, your fingers stuffed in your soaking cunt. “Are you seriously looking at nudes of your girlfriend right now while i’m talking to you?” Jay said, face full of disgust, standing up. “Jesus at least wait until I leave the room.” He said.

“i’m not giving up that easy!” He yelled, grabbing a towel, cold showers were like his best friend as of lately.

He couldn’t wait until this dumb challenge was over.

NOVEMBER 30, 2023 11:57 !

‘Fuck you, you just had to go and win.’ ‘you actually beat me, you fucking asshole.’ ‘what games do you want?’

He smiled victoriously at the text messages from his friends. He checked the time, and he was just on time — he got up, going into your shared bedroom, you were so unaware, watching the tv not paying attention to the time, like he had for the entire day.

“I won.” He said, finally gaining your attention. “Huh?” You turned to him confused. “What are you talking about?” You were laughing, but the way you had teased jake almost every day this month, you soon weren’t about to be. “I won the game, jay lasted until a few minutes ago.”

You checked the time, your heart sank — it was now midnight, December 1 — you were starting to regret doin everything you did during the month. “Jake.”

Before you could say anything else his lips were crashing into yours. He messily kissed you, trying to get his shirt over his head. Once he did that, he pulled away his lips swollen and red, both of you breathless. “I was gonna be nice princess, but you haven’t been nice to me at all this months.” He rid himself of pants, climbing on the bed. “Jake I was needy and you were ignoring me.” You pouted, trying to find a way out of it.

“Yeah, so that means act like a slut?” He slapped your thigh, pushing them open. “So desperate to get off you even humped my pillow like a bitch in heat.” You moaned out, you missed this. “Couldn’t get wait, just had to cum.” He cupped your heat. “Your pussy is soaking through your panties.”

He practically ripped your panties off. “Even through all the teasing I was gonna treat my baby like this princess she use to be, but then earlier you decided to hump my thigh like a needy whore.” He manhandled you on to your stomach, lifting your hips up, putting a pillow down for comfort. “so now i’m gonna fuck you like a needy whore.”

This is all you wanted — for the entire month this is all you wanted, was for him to fuck you stupid. “Pl-please jakey.” You moaned, he slapped your ass. “Shut the fuck up.” He pumped his cock, groaning as he pressed his tip at your entrance. “Shut up and take my fucking cock.”

He slammed into you without easing in, you let out a scream of pleasure as his cock stretched out your cunt. “Fuck your pussy is so tight.” He had to calm himself down, he was so pent up he felt like he was gonna cum if he moved. “Missed it so much.”

You wiggled your hips impatiently. “J-jake please.” You whined, he slapped your ass. “Fuck.” He pulled out, slamming back in. “So fucking impatient.” He moved his hips. “Couldn’t even wait a second.” He grunted, gripping your hips as he roughly fucked into you. “Jake.”

He let out all his pent up frustrations on your poor cunt, pushing your back down into a a deeper arch — his cock hitting a new spot, you were gripping the pillows as he plowed into you. “That’s it, take my cock slut.” He grunted.

You felt yourself about to cum, your cunt tightening around his cock. “No baby, you don’t get to cum right now, fucking hold it.” He growled, you whined. “J-jake please.” You begged, tears welding in your eyes. “I said fucking hold it slut.”

He kept going, you could no longer hold it. “Jake!” You screamed, tear streaming down your eyes. “Cum, go a ahead and cum slut.” He slapped your ass once more, you screamed cumming around his cock. “That’s it cream my cock -fuck- i’m about about to cum inside your pussy.” He grunted, thrusting a few times. “Fuck!” He came with a moan, filling your cunt up with his cum.

He gave you a few second to compose yourself, before handling you back on your back. “I’m not done baby.” He grabbed the base of his cock, positioning it at your hole that was leaking with his cum, pushing himself back into your hole. “Jake, fuck!” You screamed.

“Gonna fuck you as many times as you teased me, gonna leave your pussy sore.”

©️LUVYENI

[im-ovulating]

I think Tate should pin reader to a wall and fuck her. W me deserve a treat this Halloween season, and slutty Tate is such a nice thing.

(A/n: I think that's the best idea you've had yet. Slutty Tate is really all I need in this life🫠)

(Forgive the writing rust, it's been a minute)

(Not proofread)

(Pretend it's still October for me, yeah?)

Word Count: 1,611

Summary- Run, baby, run.

Warnings: Chasing, Unprotected Sex

Age Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Tate Langdon x Fem! Reader: Run

-------------------

"Oh, my fucking god, Tate!" You screech as you use the banister to make a sharp turn. Tate thunders down the stairs after you in that stupid mask he found.

"C'mon~" He rasps out. "Don't you wanna play?~"

You round the kitchen island, circling it to keep distance between you. His vocal fry makes your cheeks burn; the innuendo in his phrasing doing nothing to help the heat.

"Don't -" You cut yourself off with a scream as Tate all but lunges around the island at you.

And you're running again, through the living room, past the home office, until you spot the basement door in your peripheral. You shoot off towards it, ripping the door open and sprinting down the stairs. You use the support pillars to your advantage, losing him in the maze that you call a basement.

You can hear his heavy steps as he taunts you. Boot clad feet clicking and echoing through the dark room.

"Y/n~" He singsongs. "Come out, come out wherever you are~"

His voice is muffled by the mask.

You slip around the last outcropped wall and plaster your back to the brick.

A shiver runs up your spine and the hair on the back of your neck stands on end as it suddenly goes deadly silent. The only sound in the damp room is your ragged breathing that gets poorly muffled by your hands.

Why did you think the basement was a good idea? You've done nothing but effectively trap yourself.

You're a sitting duck down here. Your best chance at escaping him is if you can manage to get back up the stairs and make a break for the front door. In theory, it's easy. The door is just a few paces to the right of the basement. But this is a ghost you're dealing with - nothing is that simple with him.

Nonetheless, once you steady your breathing, you start inching your way back to the steps.

Thank the gods you decided to put off putting your shoes on; your socks make your steps silent as you scoot around a corner. Your eyes adjusting to the pitch black does nothing to quell your paranoia; if anything, it merely heightens it. The knowledge that you could turn your head at any point at be face to face with your pursuer has your heart frantically beating against your ribs as if aching to smash through the bone. The quiet roars in your ears as you strain to hear even the slightest shuffle in the dark.

Wait-

No. That was your pulse in your ears...

'Where is he..?'

Every step you take feels like it's being watched like a hawk, and, at this point, you don't know if you're just psyching yourself out or not. Something moves in the corner of your eye, but when you whip around, you're met with nothing.

'This isn't funny anymore...' your mind unhelpfully supplies.

Taking a shuddering breath, you make up your mind and call out into the pitch.

"Tate? Please, this isn't fun anymo-"

A hand covers your mouth, an arm snaking across your stomach to drag you back. You thrash, desperately trying to rip the hand off. Your protests remain muffled as your captor pins you face-first to the nearest wall.

"Gotcha~" Tate quips, his breath fanning your neck. "Are you scared, baby?"

So, he ditched the mask... 'Finally,' you can't help but think.

You shake your head despite the answer being an obvious 'yes'. You can feel his cock pressing into your ass, getting harder with each passing second.

"No?" His hand slips from your mouth to your jaw, tilting your head back, "Liar."

With that, Tate slams his mouth to yours, hungry and not afraid to satiate himself.

You know it's wrong. That being hunted down and caught shouldn't make you feel this way, but it does. It does. It makes your tummy get all hot and fuzzy - makes your head cloudy and hazy.

And Tate knows it.

He knows this dirty little secret of yours and loves to entice it. Because, just as much as you love the chase, he loves the hunt.

The arm around you slides down until his hand can slip into your pants.

"Not only are you a liar -" he murmurs into the kiss, "- but you love that you're scared. I bet you're soaking through your panties, too, aren't ya?"

His fingers finally reach your folds, easily stroking you with all the slick that's shamefully accumulated. "Knew it~"

Tate breaks the kiss and pulls his hand out. Lifting his hand to your lips, he barely has to mutter out an 'open' before you're accepting the digits into your mouth.

You can feel his dark eyes boring into you as you suck your own juices from his fingers.

"Good girl..." His thumbs along your jaw with his free hand before pulling his digits from your mouth.

Tate turns you around and pins you to the wall once more before leaning down to kiss you again. It feels like he's devouring you; eager to eat you until there's nothing left for him to take. His tongue slips past your lips, tasting all you have to offer and still some. It's when he starts to work at your jeans that you pull away.

"Down here?" You ask, as you attempt to catch your breath. Tate makes that easier said than done by shifting to focus on your neck.

You can feel the shit-eating smirk that spreads against your neck as he mumbles out a "Why not? You had no problem soaking your panties down here."

He belts out a laugh at your offended gasp and as much as you want to snark back, you can't deny that he's right. So, instead, you huff out an "Asshole" as you relax against the wall. Wasting no time, Tate shoves your jeans down until you're able to kick them off; after unbuckling his own, he hikes your leg up and lines his cockhead with your entrance with an almost evil grin.

"Tate, don't you fucking dar-" You're cut off with a yelp as he shoves himself to the hilt with one motion.

"You love it," he grunts. And you do.

He pulls out to the tip before thrusting back in. Again and again, he builds up to a frenzied rhythm as the wet sounds of your arousal echo through the basement and all you can think is how glad you are that you're the only one home.

You can feel the staccato of your heartbeat as it mirrors his trusts.

You can barely breathe with how hard he's slamming into you, but he still has you all but clawing at his back, so it's not like you can complain. He isn't much better with how he's basically growling into your neck, sucking and biting a pattern into your skin as he fucks into you.

"How are you still so fucking tight?" He groans out, grinding his cock into you before pulling out. Tate flips you around once more before pushing back in.

Your cheek scrapes against the wall with a few trusts before you're able to get your palms against it. Using your new leverage, you start to press back, meeting him trust for thrust as he draws out grunts and groans from both of you.

The hot, wet slide of him in your cunt has your brain going empty of anything but Tate and the growing need to cum. You can feel the steady build up, the tension mounting in your muscles as he guides you closer and closer to the edge.

You're not even sure what sounds your making; all you can hear is the heavy breathing and growled curses that Tate is releasing. His hands snuck up to play with your tits at some point and with each tug and pinch, your back arches more and more as electricity starts to crackle in your veins.

"God, I'm close," you pant out. "Please, Tate..."

You feel the tip of his nose trail up your neck as he inhales your scent. "You gonna cum for me, pretty girl?" He mumbles once his lips meet the skin just below your ear.

He slips one of his hands back down to your clit, "Then cum."

With one last tug to the sensitive nerve, your vision blurs as you cry out his name. The static in your limbs shoots out, spreading through your fingers and toes and tosses your head back against his shoulder. You don't even register your legs going out until Tate's arm tightens around your waist, keeping you up as he chases his own release.

"Hold on, baby," He rasps, "Just hold on for me a little longer-"

The continued stimulation keeps your eyes shut as your forced to take what he gives. Any rhythm he had is gone as he pounds into your cunt like an animal; you could cry out in relief once you feel his hips start to stutter. And you do. As soon as you can feel the thick, hot ropes of his cum pump into you, the tears fall; the overstimulation makes your legs quiver, but ecstasy still hums in your veins.

You don't register the muttered praises Tate presses into your shoulder until your breathing evens out and your heart stops hammering in your ears. "You with me, Pretty?"

Nodding, you test your legs, finally taking the strain off of Tate, though his arm stays firmly locked around your waist. Blinking the remaining blurriness from your eyes, you turn your head to face him before getting pulled into a kiss.

"There she is," he whispers against your lips.

(3 years and I still don't know how to end smut🤪)

[lipglossanon]

October 29th

Kink: Spanking

Pairing: Best friend’s dad!Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, spanking, age gap (reader is early 20’s with Leon being early 40’s), teasing, degradation, name calling, kissing, fingering, dirty talk, unprotected sex, creampie, cheating

not proofread

The Kennedy’s live in a cul-de-sac so there’s always a ton of trick or treaters on Halloween. Your friend, Kirsty, invited you over to help hand out candy. That was the plan. Unfortunately, her boyfriend got caught up in some mess and she has to leave to go bail him out. 

It’s why you’re now hanging out in an empty house wearing a fairly modest Freddy Krueger costume. Nothing to give parents a heart attack when you open the door to drop candy into their kiddos’ little plastic jack o’lanterns; but, you have enough leg showing that it’s not exactly subtle either. 

It must be why Mr. Kennedy is giving you the side eye when he strolls in off of work. You’re relaxing on the couch, candy bowl nearly empty on the table in front of you, when he sits down with a spare cushion between you. 

“You two haven’t left yet?”

You close your phone and turn your attention to him. It would be a lie to say you’ve never thought your friend’s dad was hot, but he’s never looked at you twice so it’s just something you’ve kept to yourself. However, now, his eyes linger on your legs, drifting up to your thighs then your breasts—lingering on your cleavage until he flicks his blue eyes up to your face. 

It all happens in the span of a couple of seconds, but it feels like a lifetime. The spit in your mouth dries up when you finally lock eyes. 

Clearing your throat, your nerves get the best of you, “N-no, uhm, Kirsty actually—she left. To pick up her boyfriend.”

He hums, relaxing a little into the couch and spreading his legs. Your eyes are drawn to the movement and you can see the outline off his cock. 

“It’s impolite to stare, honey. Don’t you have any manners?”

“Sorry, Mr. Kennedy.”

He grins and it makes your heart race. 

“I-I should probably get going,” you fidget with the hem of your dress, realizing exactly how short it is. “I don’t want to intrude.”

“Aww honey, that’s just rude,” he narrows his eyes.

This draws you up short and your brows pinch together in confusion, “Rude how?”

“You’re not even going to wait on my daughter to get home before leaving?”

You give a minute shake of your head, “She’ll understand.”

He clicks his tongue, a hot palm coming down on your thigh and making you jump. 

“I don’t think so, you can sit right here until she gets back. Keep me company.”

Biting your bottom lip, your clit throbs at his rough tone. 

“I think I should go,” you murmur, eyes dropping back down to his half hard cock. 

“Such a misbehaving girl,” he sighs out before shifting closer to you. “Guess I’ll need to rectify that.”

You gasp in surprise when he grabs your biceps and manhandles you facedown over his lap. Your dress rides up with the movement, showing off the cute panties you wore tonight. His palm comes down on your ass and you yelp like a struck dog. 

“Now, are you going to behave?” He asks, voice rich and deep, making you press the dough of your thighs together. 

Gathering up what little awareness you have, you mewl, “Yes, yes, I-I will.”

He chuckles, but doesn’t say anything. He rains slaps across your ass, spanking each cheek in the same spot until the sharp stings turn into a dull burn. After the first few, you can’t hold back your gasps and whines. Slick drools from your cunt and embarrassment burns hot in your belly. 

You can feel Mr. Kennedy’s chubbed cock underneath your pelvis and it makes your mouth water. Losing count of his slaps, you only notice he stops when his hand cups your pussy from behind.

“I don’t think my lesson’s sinking in, sweetheart,” he mocks, fingers drumming against your panty covered slit. “Think I need to go a bit further, really drive the point home.”

As the word drive leaves his lips, he presses his fingers into your hole, panties stretching uncomfortably as he pushes the fabric into your clenching heat. He chuckles, mean and low, grinding his digits in until you’re whining and shifting in his lap. 

“Please,” you moan. “I’ll behave, sir.”

He groans and pulls back his hand to slap the wet gusset of your panties, “There we go, knew that sweet mouth of yours knew some manners.”

He wrenches your panties down and off, digits going back to press into your drooling hole. Spreading your legs as much as you can, you whine when he roughly finger fucks your pussy.  Growling, he slides them out, fingers wet where he grips your hips and wrangles you back onto your front. Guiding your movement, he situates you until you’re seated over his legs. 

“Gonna fuck your wet pussy, honey,” he grunts, unbuckling and unzipping his slacks before pulling his cock free. “Show that little hole who’s in charge.”

Your eyes flutter when he slaps his cock down onto your clit, a quick plap plap plap that has his tip drooling precum on your swollen bud. Moaning, you angle your hips and slide yourself down on his cock, pussy walls stretching around his thick length.

“Anyone could walk in and see me stuffing this slutty pussy,” he laughs in your ear. “Such a little home wrecker.” 

Your cunt clamps down on his cock, clit pulsing from his words. Tucking your face into his shoulder, your body feels hot all over. His hands slip under your dress to grab fistfuls of your ass, skin stinging at the contact. 

“C’mon be a good cocksleeve,” he croons nastily. “Work that fat pussy up and down my cock.”

Mewling, you slowly begin to bounce on his lap, fucking yourself on his dick. It doesn’t take long until you’re moaning and panting, riding his cock hard and fast, your hand shifting down between your bodies so you can rub your clit. 

“Yeah, that’s a good girl, make yourself cum for me,” he groans, head leaning back against the couch so he can watch more easily. “Rub that slippery little clit, honey.”

“Mr. Kennedy,” you moan, thighs burning from the constant motion while your pussy flutters and grips onto his cock. 

With his free hand, he yanks the neck of your shirt down until your breasts spill out for his greedy eyes. 

“God, look at those fucking tits,” his cock flexes inside your puffy cunt. “Fuck, keep working my cock cause I’m about to shoot a thick load in this soft little pussy.”

Arousal is a steady thrum in your body, cunt slick and greedy as you ride your best friend’s dad on their family couch. Your fingers quicken on your clit, pussy humping down on his cock faster and faster. Leaning forward, he begins to taste your nipples, sucking and licking the stiff buds with a loud groan. 

It’s enough to push you over the edge, climax whiting out your brain as you cry out. You sit heavily in his lap, cock buried to the hilt in your snug pussy, milking and clenching down on his fat length. 

“God that’s it, take it, fuck gonna creampie your sweet little hole,” he pants, rutting up into you until he spills his load with a grunt. 

Hot spurts of cum fill your pussy to the brim, slowly leaking out around his cock. Shivering, you rock your hips back and forth, the aftershocks of your orgasm zapping through your body. Pulling you in close, he kisses you messily, tongue licking past your slack lips until you’re kissing back just as eagerly. 

You sit in Mr. Kennedy’s lap, his cock half hard inside your sore pussy, while you makeout on the couch. His hands run all over your body, grabbing your ass and hips before running his thumbs across your nipples only to repeat the process over and over again. It has you squirming against him, body keyed up and turned on, until he’s fucking up into you again. 

“Fucking slut,” he rumbles against your mouth, cock squelching with every thrust in and out of your pussy. “You’re making me cum in you again. What a selfish girl.”

Mind blissed out, you only hum in response, kissing him again while he groans into your mouth. This time the sex is quick and dirty, both of you so sensitive that you each cum within seconds of the other. Your pussy milks another load from his throbbing cock, his balls flexing as he pumps more cum into your overly stuffed hole. 

“God, breeding a tight little pussy never gets old,” he sighs, head flopping back onto the couch. “Gonna keep me company the rest of the night.”

“Yes sir, Mr. Kennedy,” you nuzzle into his neck and he slaps your ass gently. 

“Good girl.”

[mountainsandmayhem]

BDSMaid - Chapter 5 Part Two

Series Summary: After recently graduating you take what is supposed to be a job to save money before you go back to university to get your law degree. Your best friend offers you a job cleaning luxury homes for clients you’ll never know. Easy. Simple. Mundane. Until one of your clients is home and everything you felt was missing in your life starts to fall into place. This goes against the NDA you signed and you could get fired. Or worse, you could fall in love.

Chapter Summary: You and Joel go to a Shibari class together; an innocent date, or is it?

TW: age gap (Joel 45/reader 22), reader does have some descriptors so more of an OC. Reader has longer hair and Joel can lift her. Mutual pining, kissing. Spoiler triggers below the cut in red.

WC: 8.2k

AN: Ok fiiiiiinnnneeeeee I couldn't wait any longer and I left you all on kind of a cliffhanger. As always, thank you to my lovely @lotusbxtch for reading and encouraging and helping me grow. Thanks @mermaidgirl30 , @littlevenicebitch69 and @joelmillerisapunk for being my lil cheerleaders. @for-a-longlongtime thanks for stoping me from working on that bull rider series LOL. Ok, enjoy this slowly because I haven't even STARTED chapter 6 yet, so I doubt it will be out until late October. Dividers and banners by the oh so talented @saradika-graphics

Masterlist || Series Masterlist

TW: complete sensory deprivation (tied down, blind folded and has hearing blocked), multiple orgasms, denial

Joel

Joel has tried to keep his distance since referring to tonight as a date. He left another large tip for your clean this week and then made sure he was as busy as possible to stop himself from going home to see you. As he coaxed you into drinking the orange juice and the water he kept hearing “it’s a date” over and over again in his mind, and he’d cringe internally. He wouldn’t have blamed you if you had leaped out of that bed and ran home. The thought of you wanting him in that way is ridiculous. Not only because he’s over twice your age, but you came to him for help with building self confidence and for an escape, and then he went and said something so fucking stupid. 

He shakes his head and pulls up his emails, trying to distract himself for what feels like the one hundredth time. Of course he wants to date you, he’d be crazy not to, but he can’t blur those lines. Furthermore, even if there was the slightest chance that you felt the same way he can’t risk breaking your heart the way he’s broken so many others.

She’s going to break yours, old man. Not the other way around.

Wednesday has been absolutely crawling. Time almost mocking him with how slow it’s ticking by. As he goes over the list of tonight's guests, Tess knocks on his small office door at the club.

“Hey,” she says, plopping down in the arm chair across from the desk. “You coming tonight?”

“Of course. Looks like a good turn out. Did the instructor make it in ok?”

“Cap picked her up from the airport yesterday and got her all settled at the hotel. Do you think you’re going to need me tonight?”

Joel cocks an eyebrow at her. He’s known Tess since she was ten. Her and Tommy are the same age, Joel being two years their senior. Aside from a few months when Tess and Tommy were sixteen, the three of them have been inseparable ever since. Tess was usually the undeclared leader of the group due to her bossy nature, but she kept the Miller brothers out of trouble most of the time. 

“What’s wrong, Tess?”

“Nothin’,” she crosses her arms across her chest. “I am the planner, you and Tommy are the personality. I’m fine to stay behind the scenes for this one.”

“You’ve been acting strange since the poker night.”

She rolls her eyes at him. She’s probably the only person ballsy enough to do that to Joel besides Tommy, but Joel’s almost convinced his little brother is more dumb than ballsy. “I’m fine, Joel. The staff is all in good morale, and that’s my department. Remember?”

Joel just stares as she continues, lowering her voice to mock his. “I need you to be the people person. Hire them, train them. I’m not patient enough because I’m a big scary dom who will just want to spank them for not listening. I also can’t plan anything because I have a man brain.”

“Hilarious,” Joel deadpans as Tess laughs at her own jokes. “I’m being serious though, are you sure you're ok?”

“Yes, you don’t need to be concerned about me. I’m actually a little gutted I’m gonna miss it. Tommy told me there’s been a very pretty young lady hanging around you lately.”

Joel puts his reading glasses on with one hand and pointing to his door with the other. “Out.”

You

Joel referring to tonight as a date has been on loop for the last few days. He has this amazing way of shutting off your brain and then leaving you with so many new questions. Either way, when a few more college letters came over the last few days you convinced yourself that right before leaving for the shibari-demonstration-slash-date was the best time to open them. 

Odette and Jamie sit on the couch across from you as you slide open the first letter. The thick eggshell parchment stamped with the Yale logo pops open easily. You close your eyes as you open the paper, the only sound in the room is the thundering of your heart behind your ribs. 

You peel your eyes open and read out loud. “We regret to inform you that you have not…” your voice falls off, fingers shaking as you put it back in the envelope.

“Hey, we expected a few no’s,” Jamie says gently, always the optimist.

Odette takes the other approach, “Their fucking loss, bunch of stuffy old cunts! Next!”

You laugh at the juxtaposition of your friends' responses and reach for the Harvard letter. “We regret to inform you…”

“Keep going babe,” Jamie says softly.

You pick up the bright white Columbia letter. “We regret to inform you…fuck.” You feel the defeat start to creep in, like thick morning fog. It’s suffocating, choking all the happiness and excitement you had for tonight. 

“What the fuck is wrong with these schools!” Odette says, snatching the letters up so she can check for herself. “Do the Toronto one, Canadians are supposed to be nice.”

“I can’t open anymore,” you say as your head falls back into the sofa. The fog starts to spread through your body, shutting you down inch by inch. You know you have to open the rest. You’ll spend the rest of the night wondering what they say if you don’t finish them. “You do it, Jamie.”

She shuffles in her seat uncomfortably. She’s not the kind of girl who likes to disappoint others; she's bright and happy but at this moment she’s the only person that you can take bad news from. As if she can read your thoughts, she grabs the University of Toronto letter. The sound of the envelope popping open slices through you. She clears her throat as she opens the paper and then reads aloud the same sentence you did. The letters from Duke and Notre Dame follow the same painful routine. With each rejection your stomach swirls, nausea building on top of self doubt and anxiety. 

Six out of the eight universities you applied to have turned you down; Berkeley and the University of Austin are your only chances left at reaching your dreams. The silence in the small rental unit has you on edge, so much so that when your phone vibrates beside you you jump. A sunset beach photo from your last trip to California is the background from a text from Cap telling you he’ll be at your doorstep in about twenty minutes. 

“I gotta finish getting ready,” you say, dragging yourself to the bathroom to touch up any makeup and brush your teeth.

“Babe?” Jamie says, following you down the hall. “You wanna stay here instead of going to that mixer?”

The reminder of the lie sends a new wave of nausea through you. Tonight you became a law school reject and an even bigger liar. Don’t forget that you’re also falling in love with an unattainable man, says the glittery pink box. You mentally lift a single finger in its direction, it usually doesn’t turn on you like that. 

“I need the distraction.” You say, deciding that that’s not really a lie.

Your friends look at you with sadness in their eyes and even though you’re sad too, you wish you could tell them about Mister Miller and the club. You know they’d be excited about whatever this thing is and it would really help to have someone to decipher all the moments that live in your mind.

“It’s a date”.

When you walk through the large door from the lobby and into the club, you’re welcomed by a completely different atmosphere. It’s not all dim lights and sexy music like it normally is; instead the overhead lights are on and all the people are dressed in regular clothing or athletic wear and not the sexy outfits they’d normally pick to come here. Joel is no exception, dressed in dark wash jeans and a fitted black t-shirt. You catch the glint of his gold ring while he’s engrossed in deep conversation with a blue and purple haired woman along the edge of the dance floor. As if you’re his due north or the other side of his magnet, after just seconds of being in the same room as him, his eyes collide with yours. He mouths an ‘excuse me’ at the woman without looking away from and his long legs eat up the distance between the two of you. He meets you just before the bar and immediately wraps his arms around you, one hand coming to the nape of your neck, silently guiding your forehead to his strong chest.

“What’s wrong, sweet girl?” You love how easily he can read you, but you hate that this is the second time this week that he’s seeing you like this. You know you have moments of weakness, but you don’t let anyone see that and you DEFINITELY don’t inconvenience others with your weakness. 

“Hasn’t been my best day, but I really don’t want to talk about it.” You don’t want to dump all of this on him now, not when he looked so excited when you said you’d attend tonight. 

“Ok, I’m here for you if you want to talk about it though. You don’t have to deal with this on your own.” His lips come to the crown of your head and you breathe him in letting his ash and leather scent break down your walls. 

“I didn’t get in,” you mumble and he holds you tighter for a brief second before his hand moves to your chin and tilts up to meet your gaze.

“All of them?” he asks gently but something akin to anger flares in eyes for just a second. 

“Six of them. I haven’t heard from two.” His thumb feels like heaven as it runs along your jaw.

From across the club the blue and purple haired woman, who is now on the stage, claps her hands. “Good evening, everyone! I’m Starr. If you and your brave partners could start making your way to the floor, we can get started right away!”

“Do you want to leave?” Joel says, his warm coffee and chocolate eyes dancing around yours. No one looks at you like that; no one ever asks what you want. This is one of those looks that you wish you could talk to your friends about.

“No,” you say truthfully. “I want to be here with you.”

“I wasn’t going to let you leave without me. Do you want to go somewhere else together?”

You step back and grab his hand, his fingers thread through yours as if you do this everyday, as if this is normal, and you pull him towards the floor. He stands behind you, an arm wrapped protectively around your middle, similar to how he did the first time you went through the voyeur room. Starr introduces herself and her wife and then begins explaining rope safety and terminology like rigger and rope bunny, before launching into a step by step on tying a beautiful star harness across her wifes clothed chest. The two women hand ropes to the person who will be doing the rigging and as the rope lands in Joel’s hand your pussy flutters at the realization that you’re about to become Mister Miller’s rope bunny. You knew that coming here tonight, even if it did include lying to your friends, would help you feel better. The disappointment of being rejected is slowly replaced with an excited anticipation of learning something new with a man who has done nothing but choose you since laid your eyes on each other.

Starr projects step by step instructions up on the back wall of the stage and Joel clears his throat behind you as he begins. The sound of the rope running through his hands as he folds it in half sends a shiver up your spine. You try to distract yourself by clipping your hair up and out of the way. 

“Arms up,” he rasps, and places a light kiss on the soft curve of your neck as he wraps the rope around your ribcage, just below your breasts. You purposely wore a tight t-shirt and leggings tonight. If anyone asks, you’ll say you just assumed it would be easier to be in something form fitting rather than loose, but the truth is that you did some research on Shibari classes and it was recommended to wear clothing that was tight to the body. As he walks around you to make the first diagonal cross of your chest he says, “Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?”

You lock your eyes with his as he loops back up, crossing the rope over your other shoulder and walks behind you. “Yes, at least not yet.” 

“Alright,” he says softly, pulling the rope back through the first band he made. “What do you want to talk about then?”

Your daughter. Your wife. The guitars and books of lyrics. Where do you see yourself in 5 years? Do you like me or do you like like me? How do you feel about an age gap romance? Your brain races with a million things you could ask, and maybe would ask on a date. However, this is anything but a date, right? A dom and sub don’t date, there are strict rules. He tells you what to do, you do it. You don’t date.

The silence between you two feels like it’s lasted forever, you flinch as you ask the first thing you can think of. “How old are you?”

“Almost forty five. It says that on my profile, sweet girl. For someone who likes research…” His voice trails off. Is he flirting?

“I refuse to look at it in case you try to pawn me off to Tommy again,” you tease. You bite your cheek to hold in all the questions you want to ask as he chuckles behind you. You lift your arms as per the next slide and he brings the rope up towards your armpit as you settle on a neutral topic. “Baseball,” you say flatly.

Joel laughs silently as he walks around your body, the rope coming across to your other armpit and he’s behind you again. “Baseball?”

“Ya, it’s America’s favourite pastime.” Joel's fingers feel warm through the fabric of your shirt as he continues to work the ropes. 

“Ok, so what do you want to discuss about baseball?” He wanders in front of you again, following the instructions perfectly.

You shrug a little, lifting your arms again as you follow along with the slides. “Did you ever play?”

Starr circles around the two of you, “Great job, Joel. You ok, honey? Not too tight anywhere?”

You shake your head no and then you and Joel get lost in each other again. “Yes, I played for most of my childhood. I was pretty good too.”

You chuckle, “Why am I not surprised.”

“What?” he says, half laughing.

“Seems like Joel Miller is good at everything,” you say lightly, almost in admiration. He’s behind you again, feeding the ropes through themselves. The back looks beautifully intricate, and you can see other couples getting frustrated before either Starr or her wife comes and helps them. You continue, “Let me guess, you were like a big all-star pitcher or something?”

“No,” he answers.

“What position did you play then?” You glance down at your chest at the star shape across your chest, the rope scrapes gently on the exposed skin of your neck with the movement. It’s stunning, exactly as the demonstration and the picture. Yep, Joel Miller is good at everything. 

A new voice joins your conversation, “Best first baseman the school has ever seen.”

You crane your neck over your right shoulder towards the source; Tommy. You clench your molars when you see him with Jade; the beautiful icy blonde woman that Joel had tied to his desk the first time you met him. Joel shifts uncomfortably as she flutters her lashes at him. “As I was saying,” Joel huffs in his brother's direction before turning his attention back to you. “I played first base and Tommy was the back catcher. Our mom pretty much put us in any sport she could afford to keep us out of trouble.” 

“That’s kind of fascinating,” you say, looking back towards the stage and trying to get back into the safe little bubble you and Joel have created. 

“I dunno about that, sweet girl.”

The combination of him using that nickname and the feeling of his fingers on your body cause another shiver to roll up your spine, and suddenly it’s just the two of you again. It’s so easy to get lost with Joel, every ounce of that fog from earlier has dissipated. He’s like the warm morning sun, chasing away all the thick haze that coated you in the darkness. “I think this is a safe nickname space only, Sweet Cheeks.”

He swats your bum gently eliciting a giggle to pass your lips before getting back to weaving the rope in and out along your spine. “Careful. Now why is it kind of fascinating?”

“I mean, Tommy played at home plate, you played at first base.”

“I don’t know where you’re going here, Freckles.”

You smile over your shoulder at Joel. “Well, don’t you see the connection? You don’t have sex with your subs, Tommy does. He goes to home plate, you stay at first base.”

Joel arches an eyebrow at you as you flash him a cheeky smile and then he lets out a laugh. A real laugh that sounds like it’s coming straight from his stomach. His big beautiful smile draws up his cheeks causing the skin around his eyes to crinkle. The sound is almost enough to make you weak at the knees. “I swear to god, Freckles, I love the way your brain works.”

The rest of the group finishes off their harnesses and Starr begins the next part, explaining now how to tie the arms around the biceps and secure them to the harness. They hand out the ropes again and you reach behind yourself to criss cross your arms and grasp your opposite elbows. Just as Joel begins folding the rope over in his hands, Jade speaks.

“She sort of hit the nail on the head with that one, Mister Miller.” Envy flares in your eyes as she steps towards Joel, leaning into him. “I can’t wait for tomorrow. I’ve missed you.”

You glance towards Joel, expecting to see him looking angry but his soft eyes meet you with guilt written all over his face. You watch his throat as he swallows hard and the happy, sparkly bubble you built bursts and the fog returns. Your heart drops to your feet, it was too good to be true, you knew it was too good to be true and he almost had you fooled. You don’t think, you just act, you need to get away from this space and all these people as bile rises in your throat.

Your feet feel heavy as you walk quickly toward the voyeur room, slipping past the closed sign that's propped up outside the curtain that conceals it. Darkness surrounds you, the rope harness feels like it’s smothering you as you try to take deep calming breaths. A flash of light from the otherside of the curtain fills the room as someone follows.

“Go away, Joel.” You say quietly, trying to force air past the lump growing in your throat. 

“It’s Tommy.” He says, flicking on a dim light and noting the way you’re pulling at the rope closest to your throat. “Let me untie you so you don’t hurt yourself.”

You step back, a wall slamming down around you. Tommy raises his hands, “Please, just let me untie you so you can breathe.”

You spin slowly, giving your back to him and he approaches. His fingers pulling and working the ropes and the irony of him removing knots as you start to mentally tie yourself up in them is enough to make you nauseous. You retreat into your mind, looking for that stupid box. I fucking told you! You practically scream at the shadow you know it’s hiding in.

“Try to slow your breathing for me,” Tommy says softly as the rope begins to loosen and fall away from your body. Tonight felt too normal, too comfortable. You started to feel like maybe Joel was feeling the same way you do, but now you feel like you’ve been slapped across the face with yet another reminder that you are not enough. Six out eight universities and the man you completely misread. 

“I’m so fucking stupid.” It doesn’t come out self deprecating or angrily. Just as if you’re stating a fact, similar to how you’d say you like the colour green. 

“No, this is on me.” The rope falls away from your body and you step away, spinning to face Tommy. “I shouldn’t have said yes when she asked me to bring her here tonight. I assumed Joel had ended it before they were in Europe.”

“What?” You breathe out in disbelief. Even though you can see the rope in Tommy’s hands, it still feels like it’s around your throat.

You wander towards the nearest couch. All those pictures, all those flirty texts and she was there the entire time? You hear your mothers voice again, ‘You might be the smartest one in this town but the real world is going to eat you up and spit you out.’ Nothing has felt more true, especially today. Six schools rejected you, selecting smarter shinier applicants and now the same thing is happening with Joel. You knew you didn’t hold a candle to her, he wanted you to go with Tommy so he could keep her, didn’t he?

‘It’s only you.’ His desperate voice from the day in his office comes out of the shadows of your mind. But it’s not only you. If he didn’t end it with her then it’s her too. You’re constantly in competitions that you have no business being in. 

“No, not ‘they’. Not like that. They were there for different things, not together,” Tommy’s voice has a hint of panic. “...I’m really fucking this night up, aren’t I?”

Just then, Joel and Jade come through the curtain. “Sweet girl….”

“No,” you say, cutting him off with a wave of your hand. You want to yell and scream and ask him what was with all that “it’s only you” bullshit.

“Baby, please, just listen to me.” Joel kneels in front of you and you stand up. His hands come to either side of the couch, keeping you there. “Please?”

You can feel his eyes on you but you keep staring straight ahead, the curtains of all the rental rooms are drawn shut. “Please just go, Joel.”

Jade steps into your line of vision and you can feel the jealousy twisting at your stomach. She’s fucking beautiful. Long icy blonde hair that looks silky to touch, slender limbs and a perfectly symmetrical face. Her make up is done to perfection, and to top it all off she was kissed by an angel in the breast department. 

“I’m sorry. I left the country a few days after I saw you for your birthday celebration. I went to Germany to get married and I wasn’t coming back.” Her eyes go soft for a second as she looks down at her bare left ring finger and then back to you. “Clearly I didn’t do either of those things. I haven’t spoken to Joel and I just assumed our regular time slots still stood.”

Even without looking down, you know Joel hasn’t looked away. From the moment you met him, you’ve been able to feel his gaze on you. It’s one of the things you like so much about him, the way he looks at you. You feel warm and seen, and most importantly, safe in his gaze.

Tommy clears his throat gently and you glance his way. “Ending things with a sub is tricky. It has to be done in person. I know Joel better than anyone else, he ended things with everyone else. He’s gonna beat the shit out of me for this, but he’s crazy about you and he’s only ever looked at one other person the way he looks at you.”

“Tommy,” Jade's voice cracks as she says his name. “I think you should untie me so I can leave. I really am sorry, to all of you.”

You watch the two of them disappear back into the main area of the club before you finally allow yourself to look down at Joel. His eyes are big and soft, he looks so vulnerable. Is this real though? When you think about how easily he can slide on his dominant mask you aren’t sure what you can and can’t trust, and that’s really fucking horrible considering trust is the most important thing between a sub and dom. He could be lying, he gains blow jobs and doing whatever else he wants to your body by keeping this up. 

But what does Tommy gain from telling you what he just did? Tommy has no skin in the game here.

Joel  

His heart is flying wildly behind his chest, blood coursing through his ears. He never thought he was going to see Jade again. Neither of them talked about it really, but after that session that you walked in on she canceled the next one and told him she was moving to be with her fiance in Germany and was getting married. He continues to look up at you; the ever growing pinch in his neck be damned, he’s not looking away. Even at this angle you manage to take his breath away. It feels like hours have gone by when you finally speak.

“I thought it was only me,” it comes out as a whisper and immediately shatters the little bits that were left of his composure. 

“It is, sweet girl. I promise you it is.”

“I want to believe you,” your voice is so calm. He doesn’t deserve you being calm right now. Or does he? You came into this very methodical. Maybe these are just sub-dom transactions to you.

“What can I do?” He says hopefully. “I’ll do anything you need, sweet girl.”

You let out a shaky breath and he can see the wall building behind your eyes, that fun goofy girl who isn’t afraid to crack a joke is slowly locking herself away. He prepares himself for you to tell him this is over, or that you need time. He reminds himself that this was always going to end in heartbreak for him, so may as well get it over with now instead of when he’s fully in love with you, before he’s learned how those warm walls of your pussy feel against his cock. Because there really will be no coming back from that if that happens.

As he tightens the muscles in his core, physically preparing for the metaphorical blow to the gut he watches your long lashes flutter shut and when you open your eyes again the wall is gone. The shimmering pools of the eyes he’s enamored by are back and relief washes over him. 

“Nothing, Mister Miller,” your voice is saccharine sweet. “Trust is the most important thing between a sub and their dom. I can’t let my own anxiety ruin this, but I might just be a bit guarded until I’ve calmed all those thoughts.”

He whispers your name, biting back a groan as your hands meet his hair. “I’m so sorry that happened, baby girl.”

“I know. So am I. I shouldn’t have gotten jealous. It’s just…”

“No, you can be jealous. I told you one thing and -.”

You tug at the strands of his hair and shush him. “I’m not done,” your voice is stern. Joel isn’t used to hearing your tone like that and he suddenly feels his chest swelling with pride. This sweet bubbly person in front of him is morphing into a confident badass. That’s probably the exact tone you’ll use in boardrooms or courtrooms when other lawyers try to talk over you and he can only hope that one day he’ll get to witness that. “I shouldn’t have gotten jealous, but I really like the way I feel around you. It’s selfish of me, but I’d like to keep feeling like this for the few months I have left here before I leave for law school.”

Selfish. He lets that word wash over him. The most selfless person he’s ever known is worried about being selfish? No, he thinks, she deserves this. Hearing you say that you’re leaving makes him feel like his chest is caving in on itself. He’ll deal with the inevitable heartbreak when you leave him. He knows those rejection letters were hard on you, but he helped you to feel better and he’s going to hold on to that and give you that for as long as he possibly can. 

Your fingers release his hair and he watches you walk the few steps to where the rope Tommy untied for you lays on the floor. He licks his lips as you bend to pick it up, eyes trailing over the delicious curves of your ass. “It would be my pleasure, sweetheart.”

You turn, walking back towards where he’s kneeling and holding the ropes out to him you say, “Is the workshop over?”

He stands up, his fingers grazing yours as he takes the rope. Electricity tingles up his forearms at the feel of your soft skin. Your body is so close to his that he can feel your soft warmth radiating against him. You being at this proximity immediately put him at ease.

“No, there’s a bodysuit tutorial right now,” he says. You nod, stepping around him. Suddenly, Joel grabs your elbow to stop you, lowering his lips to your ear, and lowering his voice to that gravelly tone he knows you love, he rasps, “I should punish you for letting another dom untie what’s mine.”

You smirk up at him, “I’d like to see you try, Sweet Cheeks.”

You

Joel works silently around you and you lose yourself for a bit in the events that unfolded tonight. Joel has knelt in front of you before, but never like that. The sad, helpless look in his eyes, the slight slump of the shoulders. He was submitting to you, and when your fingers met his scalp, he leaned into your touch. The way his body melted at your touch was intoxicating. He wasn’t Mister Miller in that room tonight, he was Joel, and the dichotomy of this man is astounding. 

After about thirty minutes of Joel twisting, turning and pulling he has your upper half tied into a zigzagged bodysuit of rope. Joel steps in front of you and bends slightly to reach between your legs. When he brings the rope between your thighs and as he feeds it through the bottom of the chest piece, the seam of your leggings brushes against your clit. You jolt at the contact, your cheeks flushing crimson as Joel's eyes meet yours in a flash of onyx and honey. He begins shaping the bottom part of the bodysuit, bent in front of you the entire time and locking eyes with yours every time he tugs the ropes into place. 

You glance nervously around the room to see if anyone else is having the same reaction. You expected this night to be fun and silly, the way a date should be. And it was for a while, but now it’s taken a very erotic turn. The blush of your cheeks warms down your chest and neck as you hold off on what could be a very vocal orgasm in front of a room of people who you don’t necessarily want to witness it.

Joel finally finishes the body suit and moves to stand behind you, his patchy facial hair brushes the shell of your ear as he whispers, his voice full of gravel, “Hands behind your back, my sweet girl. We aren’t done.”

A shiver races up your spine and your arms fly back. “So eager,” Joel says softly, grazing his teeth along the lobe of your ear, adding gasoline to the small fire that’s been building between your thighs.  

You’re sure the arm restraints only take about three minutes to complete, but it feels like hours. The three knots that lay around your wrists, forearms, and biceps keep your posture nice and tall, and your breasts pushed up through the body suit. Once he’s finished, Joel spins you to face him, and that rope works its way in between the lips of your now absolutely soaked pussy. You squeeze your thighs together, the soft expression on his face only intensifying the growing ache. He’s such a fucking tease, you think, and now he’s looking at you as if you put the stars in the sky. Finally, his dark brown eyes settle on yours and he gives you a closed lip smile.

“What?” You ask breathlessly.

“I jus’ thought that I’d go all caveman seein’ you like this,” he steps into you, one hand cupping your cheek, the other tugging on the rope near your waist, which jiggles the rope that has you on edge. Joel’s voice lowers, this next part just for you to hear. “But you just look so beautiful.”

He tugs up on the rope and pleasure courses through you as you gasp quietly. He gives you that sexy smirk that makes that dimple carve into his cheek. 

Yep, he’s a fucking tease. The little box says, confirming your thoughts. 

“You like that, sweet girl?”

He tugs again and your forehead falls to his chest. “Please, Mister Miller,” you whisper into his expensive cotton t-shirt. 

Starr interrupts the two of you, but you can’t peel yourself away from Joel right now. The slightest move of that rope might make you explode. “Well, based on that reaction I’d say you tied it just right, Joel.”

“Thank you for coming, Starr. I’m sure we’ll host one of these again soon. Tommy is by the bar, he can help you kick everyone out.”

“Joel,” she says, a slight hint of amusement in her now hushed voice. “Your rope bunny is on the verge of having an orgasm, go.”

With that he hoists you over his shoulder and walks towards the door that leads to the private rooms. “Fuckfuck, I’m gonna -” you whisper into his broad back and squeeze your thighs tighter as Joel walks. 

The second the door shuts, separating you from the others Joel puts you on your feet and jiggles the rope around your waist. “Come, baby.”

You fall into him for support, his other arm wrapping around you to hold you up as stars blur your vision. “That feel good, my little rope bunny?” 

“Yes - oh god, yes.” Your arms pull at the ropes restraining them behind your back and you can’t hold it anymore. Your orgasm practically slams through you as you gasp and moan into Joel's broad chest. “Fuck, Mister Miller.”

 “You’re so beautiful when you let go for me. I’ll never get sick of watching you like this.” He continues to work the rope as your high crests and your legs start to go weak and boneless below you.

“I can’t…p-please Mis - Fuck.” Joel lifts your lax and quivering body over his shoulder again and makes his way to his room, placing you at the foot of the bed, spinning you and pushing between your shoulder blades until your chest meets the mattress.

“Spread your legs,” he commands and you listen, moving your feet to be shoulder width apart. He wraps two cuffs around your ankles, and attaches them to the bottom of the bed posts before doing the same to the ropes around your arms. You’re trapped, stuck bent over the end of the bed and even though you’re fully clothed under all of these ropes, this is easily the hottest thing you’ve ever done. “Fuck me. How are you so goddamn sexy even when you’re fully clothed.”

You hear Joel’s footsteps around the room, gathering whatever he has decided to use on you tonight before you can feel him behind you. “Sweet girl, I do believe I read that you would be interested in sensory deprivation. Is that correct?” 

“Yes, Mister Miller,” you hum.

“Do I have your consent to blindfold you and then have you listen to music in noise canceling headphones?”

Fire erupts in your stomach, your core pulsing at the thought of him doing whatever he wants to you. “Yes, Mister Miller.”

A silky black blind fold slips over your head, Joel's large body covering your back. “What’s your safeword?” he growls, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. 

“Stegosaurus.” Just once you’d like that to not leave your lips in the whiny, desperate tone it does when he asks you that question. 

“Good girl,” he praises before the plush headphones cover your ears. All you see is black, all you hear is soft decorative piano music, and all you feel is the warmth of Joel over your buzzing skin. There’s not a single thought in your mind, everything is silent. This is what you need and you start to worry that you’ll become addicted to the way Joel makes you feel everything while thinking nothing. 

The warmth of his body disappears from you and you whimper at the loss. Your eyes clench closed as if that will help you be able to find him. A thin, pulsing vibrator hits the back of your thigh and you jump. Joel's large hands rubs your opposite hip and every muscle relaxes under his touch. The vibrator pulses softly as he moves it up your thigh, tickling along your hip, and then down the other leg. You can’t hear the sounds that you’re making but you’re sure they’re desperate, needy gasps.

After teasing your arms Joel slips something small and hard between your body and the rope that’s been torturously teasing at your clit before you feel him pull away. You adjust so your forehead is resting on the mattress before it dips with the weight of him sitting beside your head. His warm fingers wrap around your neck and he kneads the muscles.

“Mmmm, thank you Mister Miller,” you hum. 

Whatever Joel slipped against your clit comes to life, a dull vibration that is sure to be your undoing has you attempting to arch your back, but you can’t move. Your breathing quickens, short little puffs of air passing your lips. 

“I’m gonna come,” you murmur quietly, or at least you think it’s quiet since you can’t hear yourself or anything else. Joel’s strong fingers continue the delicious swirling patterns up and down the sides of your neck as you begin to shake. “Oh god - I’m so close!”

Just as you’re about to slam head first into another orgasm the vibrating stops and Joel’s fingers disappear from your skin. “No,” and this time you know it wasn’t a whisper or a whimper.

The mattress jostles and then you feel Joel behind you again. A hand comes to one of yours, coaxing it out of the fist you’ve apparently clenched before doing the same to the other. The vibrating starts stronger this time and both his hands come to yours, his thumbs massaging at your palms. It doesn’t take long this time before you’re right on that edge again.

“Fuck, Mister Miller. Puh-please don’t stop!” Your legs start the familiar shake that happens right when you’re about to tip over the edge and he doesn’t follow your wishes. The hand massage stops, quickly followed by the vibrator being switched off. You groan in frustration and he lays a quick, sharp spank over your legging clad right ass cheek. “Hnnng - sorry.”

You can’t be certain, but based on the warm puffs hitting your core you’re pretty sure he’s knelt down behind you. The vibrator comes to life again, stronger than the last two times and his hands work at massaging the muscles along the back of your thighs. This is torture; wonderful euphoric torture and as much as you want it end, you also don’t ever want him to stop making you feel this way. 

You let your eyes flutter open behind the blindfold, it’s still just as dark but you see that little pink sparkly box. The one that’s overflowing with emotion for Joel. You should push it back into the shadows or light it on fire, but instead you let it come out of the shadows completely. You see your hands reaching for the lid just as the white hot pleasure in your core gets close to the breaking point.

“Please please…Mister Miller - fuck!” You whimper and whine as it begins to burn hotter and then it’s gone and it feels like the air is being sucked forcefully out of your lungs. 

“Nonono, I can’t. Please, I need you..” Joel's large body is across your back in a second. The hard bulge in pants pressing against your ass and the memory of how good he felt and tasted in your mouth the last time has saliva pooling under your tongue. You swallow hard as one of the padded ear pieces is lifted from your ear.

Joel’s voice is deep and gruff as he says, “What do you need, my sweet girl?”

The little box of feelings vibrates at him calling you his and you kick it back into the shadows. “I need to come, Mister Miller.”

“That right? How bad?” He says teasingly before placing a feather light kiss on that sensitive spot right below your ear.

“So bad. Please, it hurts, Mister Miller.” You are pouting into the fluffy sheets, a completely whiny mess, and you realize that you’re always a mess for him. Be it a horny or depraved one, a whiny or a pouty one, he doesn’t care and if anything you think he likes it that way, likes you that way. “I want to hear you. I miss your dirty talk, please, baby!”

“Fuck,” he breathes. “I should spank you until you can’t sit tomorrow for calling me anything but Mister Miller. You know that, right?” 

“I can’t think straight. I’m sorry, just please. Please!”

He whips the headphones off of you and the vibrator hits at an intensity you have never felt before. Your pornographic scream fills the room. His large body above yours intensifies everything that was already killing you.

“That what you need, huh?”

You cry out and try to say yes but you’re sure it’s all just an incoherent mix of sounds at this point. 

“God damn, baby girl. You should see yourself right now. All tied up in knots that I made. The way your leggings hug the curves of your hips and soft, creamy thighs. You’re going to be the death of me one day.”

Tears start to flow behind your blindfold as the pleasure almost becomes too much, you haven’t come yet, and at this point you aren’t sure if you’ll survive it if you do. You have half a mind to ask Joel if an orgasm can physically split you in two because that is how you feel right now. 

“I’m - oh god - I’m…” You try to form the words but you can’t. 

One of Joel’s hands slips between his front and your tied up arms, his hand wrapping tightly around yours. His lips come to your ear as whispers. “I got you, sweet girl, just let go for me.”

“Need to see you,” you say between gasps of air and the pleasure begins to burn in your. 

Joel peels the blind fold off. You blink him into focus, his warm eyes searching your face. “Let go, you’re ok.”

As per usual, it’s his words that seem to be that final push and you let your orgasm consume you. It starts as a cold spark, a shiver up your spine and then heat flushes through every since cell in your body. You moan and writhe beneath Joel who whispers your praises like a prayer. Talking you through the intensity of the feeling. Your pussy clenches around nothing and you’re sure your panties, leggings and the rope are ruined.

“I can’t!” You gasp and Joel slows the vibration to help you ride out the decresendo of your orgasm. As the jolts of your body slow, he follows suit; the vibrator going to a dull blip and eventually nothing. Joel's thumb traces soothing patterns on the hand he’s still holding between your bodies. You take a deep and shaky breath, trying to calm your racing heart. 

“Are you ok, angel?” he asks quietly and goosebumps somehow spread along your too hot body.

“Better than ok,” you say with a small smile.

Joel’s lips meet yours, soft and pliant and so full of passion. Your eyes shut as you part your lips for him and when your tongue strokes gently against his he lets out a small whimper that causes your pulse to leap. Mentally, you grab a bigger box, stuffing it with the realization that you’re falling for this man. But you will deal with that later, right now you just need to let yourself have something that is for, well… yourself.

Joel 

He breaks the kiss, even though he doesn’t want to. Even though he knows that by breaking this kiss it’s only going to mean you going home sooner.  “I need to get you out of these ropes and get some sugar into you.”

The two of you sit in a comfortable silence as his nimble fingers work to undo your restraints, then the intricate knots that bind your arms, and lastly the bodysuit. He really did think you looked stunning all tied up. He didn’t plan for this night to go the way it did, but when he saw the slight flush of your cheeks and the way your eyes glazed over he couldn’t resist giving you what he knew you needed. He stays close, one hand protectively on your hip as you crawl onto the bed. Once he has you seated, he pulls a fuzzy grey blanket out from a basket beside the night stand and then opens the small fridge to grab you an orange juice and water.

He cracks the top of the orange juice. “Drink this for me, please.”

He watches your eyes do a quick half roll but you don’t fight him, fingers just barely grazing his as you take the juice from him. “I had fun tonight,” you say between sips as he walks to grab the coconut oil. 

Joel stands beside you. “So did I, sweetheart. Arm, please.”

You take the orange juice in your left hand and give him your right. Both of you watch as he puts oil on the few pink marks the ropes left behind. “Do you think I should change my safeword?”

He lifts one eyebrow at you and as he tends to your other arm says, “Why do you ask that.”

“I don’t know. It’s just…well, originally that little dinosaur on your coffee maker seemed so out of place. It intrigued me. Your home is beautiful, but the parts you let people see don’t give away any hints about you, except for that little dinosaur. But now that I know the whole story, it just seems too special of an item to be tied to what we do.”

“I don’t think we need to change it. You’re right, that little stegosaurus is special to me.” He sits sideways on the bed, grabbing the empty orange juice container and handing you the water. His jaw flexes once before he continues, “But so are you. I love that you felt a connection to that part of me. Ultimately, it’s your safe word, sweet girl, so you can make it anything you want, but I think it’s perfect for us.”

The soft look in your eyes as he speaks is almost enough to kill him, and when your lips twitch up ever so slightly at his words he knows he’s done for. He shouldn’t fall for you, especially since he’s sure there’s no way you’d ever feel the same way, but he can’t not fall for you.

Your name passes his lips with a nervous tremble, because he knows that what he’s about to say next is going to be his undoing. If you say yes to this next thing, if he continues spending actual time with you, he’s done.

“Ya?” you say before sucking your bottom lip through your teeth.

“Friday night is the five year anniversary party for the club. It’s a black tie event for all the VIP guests. Would you like to accompany me?”

He watches as your eyes land on your lap, your lips pressing together as if to suppress a smile. When your gaze floats back up to his, your eyes give you away. Try as you might to hide your expressions with him; he'll always know when you’re happy based on the glitter of your eyes.

“I’d really like that, Mister Miller.”

His forehead meets yours. “This might be a Sweet Cheeks moment.”

Thank you soooo much for reading! Remember to follow @mountainsandmayhem-updates for future chapters xo.

Next Chapter

[hopelesslygaysstuff]

October 30 - Stockholm Syndrome

pairing: dom!Wanda x sub!Reader

summary: You find yourself fixated and dependent on Wanda, but you don't mind that much as she traps you deeper under her spell.

content warnings: obsession, manipulation, stockholm syndrome

word count: 1.3k+

masterlist

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! happy reading ♡

You didn’t know how long it had been. Wanda didn’t let you leave the basement often, but the last time you were outside the snow had finally started melting. If you had to guess, it had been a couple of months. 

It wasn’t the worst house to be trapped in, even if you were confined to the basement at the beginning. Wanda hadn’t trusted you at first, her eyes watchful and her hands securing cuffs on your hands before she let you roam the rest of the house. 

Your room (you shuddered as you realized you’d begun to think of it as yours), was cozy enough. There were books, soft blankets and a large bed with crimson sheets. The door was locked whenever Wanda was gone though, so you often took a nap or read a book while hoping Wanda would return with more.

The best nights were when Wanda would let you out and pull you onto the couch in the living room. There was a large TV there, and Wanda would even let you drink a bit of wine while watching a show if you’d behaved yourself. 

After the first few times of this, Wanda finally took your cuffs off. You’d rejoiced, a genuine smile on your lips as you’d thanked her quietly. The look in those green eyes was nothing short of adoration, and you’d blamed your flush on the warm fireplace heating the room. 

You began to find yourself craving Wanda’s touch, and she never denied you. When she’d bring you food, you’d quickly jump up, standing near her as the need for human connection grew. It was a product of your isolation, you told yourself. You weren’t going to let yourself actually like the woman. 

Sometimes, though, she’d smile at you gently and cup your face with her hands. You would feel yourself relaxing into her touch, something that felt like obsession rising within you. 

One time, Wanda was gone for three days. She’d left enough food and water in your room for you to survive, but by the second day, you were too distraught to even touch it. The only thing you could think about was how lonely you were, and the fear of her never returning consumed every waking moment. 

It gripped you, paralyzing you as you remained in bed, your fingers gripping the pillow you were holding to your chest. Fuck, you actually missed the woman. You missed her soft hair and her slightly blackened fingertips (even if you were too scared to ask what that was all about). The only thing you wanted was for her to return and wrap you up in a hug. You’d even be happy with cuddles on the couch, your face buried in her neck as her sweet vanilla perfume surrounded you. 

You hadn’t even realized that you’d begun to crave the woman. You should have felt disgusted with your own thoughts, but you just couldn’t stop thinking about her. The thoughts swirled in your head, obsession forming with each passing minute. 

By the time Wanda returned, your face was wet with tears, your heart hurting from the distance she’d put between you two. You needed her, needed to feel her touch, to hear her voice, and to watch those intelligent green eyes as they followed you.

“Oh, my darling,” Wanda said, stepping into your room. 

At the sound of her voice, your head had shot up. You were weak, your muscles shaking and trembling as you’d practically lept up and rushed toward her. You’d fallen after a few steps, your hands clutching at the fabric of her pants as you pressed yourself as close as possible.

“Wanda, please,” you couldn’t stop your voice from shaking. You knew that you looked pathetic, but you didn’t care. “Don’t leave me again, I can’t take it. Please, promise me you won’t leave. Don’t abandon me again.”

Smiling, Wanda felt satisfaction rush through her. This is what she’d been waiting for. She’d known that she was close to breaking your mind, and as much as it hurt her to do so, leaving you for a couple of days was the perfect thing to fully break you.

It was perfect and utterly arousing to see you so broken at her feet. Wanda was prepared, her fingers itching to mold you into her perfect partner, your mind and body pliable under her scarlet wisps. She was gentle with you, sinking down to her knees and pulling you onto her lap. 

“Hush, sweetheart. I’m right here,” she murmured, a smile on her face. If you’d looked closely, you would have seen the dark, satisfied edge to it, but you were focused solely on the relief that her strong arms around you provided. “I won’t leave again, I promise. I’ll bring you with me next time, if you’re good.”

“I’ll be good,” you gasped out, your voice desperate. Your fingers dug into her skin, clutching her like a lifeline. You supposed that she was, at this point. You didn’t see yourself surviving without her. “I’ll be perfect for you.”

“Yes, love, you will be.” Wanda’s voice holds a promise within it, her arms picking you up with the help of her scarlet wisps. She carries you to the bed, getting into position as you wrap yourself around her. 

“You’ll sleep in my bedroom from now on,” Wanda says with a note of finality.

Looking up at her, you just feel happiness bubbling up within you. “No more basement?” you ask, your voice soft and trembling with hope.

Wanda looks at you, satisfied with the thoughts of happiness and utter obsession working their way through your mind. She plucks at them, wrapping her scarlet magic around them and strengthening them slightly. Eventually, she wouldn’t need to help you, but you were so delicate right at the beginning. Wanda didn’t want to risk losing you, not when she finally had you.

“No more basement,” Wanda promised, rubbing your back as you buried your face in her neck with a happy smile on your face. Your fingers clutch her waist tightly, and you feel your face grow hot at the feeling of her thigh nestled between yours. 

“You didn’t eat,” Wanda’s voice is low, her disappointment evident. 

“Missed you,” you respond, feeling shame flood through you. Fuck, you should have taken care of yourself. The last thing you wanted was for Wanda to leave you again, and you whimper at the very thought, pulling her closer.

Wanda chuckles at your thoughts. “I’m not going to leave you, my sweet pet. But, I am going to make us dinner.”

With that, she pulls you to your feet and gently leads you to the kitchen. You don’t do much, just sitting in the chair and watching her as feelings rise up and well within you. Everything is just… so much. You feel relief, pain at the thought of her leaving, and a deep ache that you don’t want to identify. 

Biting your lip in thought, you watch Wanda as she moves around the kitchen. Her hands move with practiced ease, her blackened fingers beautiful as she stirs a pot of soup. She chops vegetables quickly, the action confident as you feel tendrils of happiness and obsession mixing together within you. 

Wanda served you soup and wine for dinner, sitting close as she ate her own meal. Her hand never leaves your thigh, and you lean into her as you eat. 

It’s comfortable, soft and everything you’d hoped for. The way Wanda looks at you with sparkling eyes makes you blush, your head ducking as your fingers nervously reach down to grab her hand. You’ve never done that before.

Those green eyes light up as you sigh at the feeling of her soft skin beneath your fingers. Her hand twists to hold yours, and you marvel at how perfectly your hands fit together. Looking up, you find Wanda’s eyes on you, hunger and something else swirling behind her irises as you gently squeeze her hand. 

This is perfect. A beautiful woman who was in love with you, a promise to never leave easily slipping past her lips as her hands comforted and grounded you. You could feel your heart fluttering, something warm wrapping around your heart and mind as you gazed back at her.

You never want to leave.

[kkayyerr]

i sick too! maybe you could do something with daddy rafe looking after a sick reader? i got very clingy when i sick. i hopes you feels better soon!

Sickening

Summary: Pogues let little!reader get sick and daddy!Rafe is not happy about that.

Warnings: Age regression; none.

Authors note: For everyone who’s sick and especially for @marvelfanfics1 🫶🏻.

Rafe was cursing himself for letting you hang out with the pogues. He would never let that happen, if only that day he wouldn’t have to deal with something that he didn’t want your little mind to know. Sarah asks him to babysit you, promising that nothing bad will happen to you and that she and the Pogues will follow all his instructions. Of course they hadn’t. Because if they had, you wouldn’t have stood in front of him right now, looking awfully sick. 

 „Sarah, are you telling me that you let her go swimming? In the middle of October? And where is her jacket?”

 Rafe was trying so hard to control his emotions right now, so he wouldn’t scare you, but he was failing. Thoughts of Pogues letting you do things that were actually dangerous made him furious, and he didn’t even want to hear any of Sarah’s excuses.He was even more mad at himself, for thinking that those assholes would actually care about your well-being and not forget about everything that he had said to them. He was about to start yelling at his sister again as he heard your trembling voice.

 „Daddy"

 Rafe almost immediately turned to look at you, and what he saw almost made him even more angry. You were standing in front of him, your gaze unfocused and your limbs trembling. You were obviously struggling to stay still because of the exhaustion. He quickly approached you, touching your forehead with his palm.

 „Baby, you’re burning.”

 He knew that you probably had a fever and that he has to do something about that immediately, before you would get even more sick. His hands quickly grabbed your waist, helping you to stay on your feet, so you won’t fall and hurt yourself even more.

 „We need to get you inside, can you walk?”

 You didn’t say anything. Instead, you just shook your head and did the grabby hands, letting him know that you would like to get carry on inside. Rafe nodded, picking you up and giving you a kiss on the forehead, checking your temperature once again, with his lips this time.

It was definitely too high. 

He waited a few seconds, as you were getting comfortable in his arms, wrapping your hands around his neck and then Rafe headed to the house.

 „We’re not done with that conversation yet, Sarah."

 Rafe said, before closing the door and carrying you upstairs to your bedroom. You felt too dizzy to even say a word, even though you were feeling so guilty for going against his rules just because he wasn’t there at the moment. You also felt sorry for Sarah, you didn’t want him to yell at her like that. When you got to the bedroom he carefully put you in your bed, immediately covering you in your favorite blanket that he prepared earlier, waiting for you to come back from your little playdate with the Pogues.

The last play date, actually.

He wasn’t planning on letting you hang out with them anymore, not without his supervision at least. After you were fully covered, he smiled to you softly and stood up, heading to the small medicine cabinet that he kept there just in case you would catch a cold or something like that. He then came back with the small pill and let out a small chuckle as you gave him a pouty face. 

 „I know, I know, baby, it’s yucky. But we need to make you healthy again, right?”

 You kept your mouth closed, making him roll his eyes. You would always become so grumpy and bratty when you got sick, and even though it was hard to deal with you when you were like this, he would still find a way to make you do as he said.

Always.

 „Don’t wanna”

 You mumbled, looking at him with a small frown, that Rafe honestly was finding adorable, even though he won’t tell you that. He rolled his eyes, one of his hands approaching your tummy. He then started to slowly wiggle his fingers in a threatening manner, warning you about the consequences of not listening to him.

 „Are you going to be a good girl for Daddy, or do I need to tickle that grumpy attitude right out of you?” 

 Your mouth opened right away, finally letting him put that pill on your tongue. You then swallowed it, hating that icky bitter taste that now was all over your mouth.Rafe patted your head, informing you that he’s proud of you for taking your medication so well, even though it probably had an awful taste.

 „Good girl.”

 Rafe’s face expression changed to confusion as he saw that your reaction to his words was unusual. Instead of the happy smile, he saw a little hint of guilt on your face that disturbed him; you had never reacted to his words like that before.

Have those Pogues tell you something about him that changed your mind?

„Baby, is everything alright?”

 You shook your head, looking a little bit embarrassed. You head tilted down, and he could’ve swear that you even wanted to cry for a second, but then you quickly put yourself together, letting out a loud sigh. Rafe was looking even more worried right now, not understanding what was the deal.

 „I’m not a good girl; I’m a bad girl, Daddy. I didn’t listen to you and... and.”

 He saw that you were getting even more anxious with every word that had come out of your mouth, so he decided to quickly stop you by pressing a small kiss onto your forehead, letting you know that everything is okay.

 "It’s okay. It’s my fault actually; I shouldn’t have left you with those... Pogues.”

 Rafe pulled you closer, holding your trembling body in his arms and placing his head on your shoulder, smiling softly to you. He wanted you to know that he’s not going to punish you for the mistakes that other people made—the other idiots, actually. 

 „But don’t scream at Sarah, otay?"

 He laughed at your ask, considering what he would have to say to his sister, so she would understand what problems she had caused this time. Maybe you were right; no amount of screaming will help her little brain understand that sometimes she has to take some responsibility.

 „Alright, alright.”

 Rafe didn’t want you to think about Sarah right now, because your body and your mind needed peace and comfort right now, not some stupid thoughts about his not less stupid sister. Not some stupid thoughts about Pogues.

 „But you still earned yourself a punishment, you know?”

 And the next minute, both his hands started to restlessly tickle your poor tummy. Well, at least you clearly didn’t think about stupid worries anymore.

Taglist: @marvelfanfics1 @rafecameronsloverrrrr @aew-regression-cove

[alwaysobsessed777]

WE FELL IN LOVE IN OCTOBER - P.B.

warnings: none

words: 1018

summary: reader wants to ask out Paige, and when she does, Paige says yes

---------------------------------------------------------------------

“Paigeeee,” I whined, pulling her towards the fair. Paige and I have been friends since the beginning of college. Running into her in a coffee shop was the best accident to ever happen to me. The awkwardness of the encounter becoming a friendship I might ruin in a matter of minutes.  

Since we’ve became friends, becoming more and more comfortable, I've slowly fell in love with her. Now, here I am, dragging her to a pumpkin festival, planning on asking her to be my girlfriend. Did i think she was going to say yes? No. But what’s wrong with trying?  

She laughed, pulling me from my spiraling thoughts, “Y/n, calm down. It’s still gonna be there in five minutes.” 

I rolled my eyes, “Okay, I want us to go in the corn maze now!” 

She chuckles, “Whatever.” She let me drag her to the entrance, I buy both of our ways in (After much arguing about it). We walked in, my gaze locked on the maze. I knew exactly what I wanted to do, I just needed to get myself to do it.  

“Come on, this way!” I managed to get us both straight to the maze. Knowing we’d have to bolt past the concessions, Paige would keep us there all day.  

“Wait, we shoulda stopped and grabbed food,” She pouts, I hold back a smile. Sometimes, it got progressively harder to stop myself from kissing her right then and there. When she pouts, that’s the worst.  

“Stop pouting, I’ll buy you something after the maze,” I finally slowed my walk, my grip on her wrist loosening, and my mind starting to race. 

“Why’d you want to come here so bad, I mean the maze?” Her face held concern. I wanted to just do it, ask her, but my nerves were going crazy.  

I shrugged, playing it cool, “I don’t know, it’s the best part of the fair.” Wrong. The rides were; everyone knew that. 

“Uh, that’s completely wrong,” She ran her hands through her hair, “What made you say that?” 

Could she not ask questions right now, as much as I love to hear her talk, not right now. “I don’t know, change of heart maybe.” 

“Whatever weirdo,” She glanced around, taking in her surroundings, “I don’t understand why people enjoy trapping themselves in a maze for long periods of time. Like, why?” 

I snickered, her mind always intrigued me. The way she thinks, it was something else sometimes.  

“I’m not joking! Like, please answer that question,” I spun around, deciding to just drop it on her now. 

“After you answer my question,” She smirks, one of her eyebrows raised.  

“Yes ma’am, now what’s this question of yours?” I felt my throat close. I couldn’t breathe, let alone talk.  

“Can I say some stuff first?” She nods, “I just wanna say how amazing our friendship is. Paige, you’re like the best person to ever come into my life. You’re always there for me, when my parents weren’t talking to me, when I almost flunked out of school, when...just when I needed you most. I’ve been falling for you, and I can’t say that I hate it. The one person who has made me happy for the last four years is you. I don’t think I’ve ever been so in love with somebody in my life.” 

There was the face I had expected. Confusion was what I thought I was going to get from her. The next bit, not as much.  

“Y/n...I don’t know what to say...” I cut her off, “You don’t have to.” 

“No, I want to,” She paused, grabbing both of my hands, holding them in hers, “Y/n, I didn’t know you felt any way towards me.” 

“Can I ask my question?” She nods, “Will you be my girlfriend?” 

She smiles, “Yes, a hundred times yes.”  

I couldn’t contain myself. I threw myself at her, wrapping my arms around her neck. Her hands landing on my waist, slightly pulling me closer. Never did I think I would say the words ‘Paige Bueckers is my girlfriend,’ but here I am.  

“You wanna get something to eat?” I asked, pushing away from her body ever so slightly.  

“Oh my god, yes. I’m glad you asked me at the beginning of the maze rather then the middle,” I gave her a confused look. “Oh, I saw the messages between you and Nika. You really think she keeps quiet about anything?” 

I blushed, “Nika told you?” 

“No, she was blabbing about it to Aubrey. I walked in and overheard all of it.” 

I hide my face in her shoulder, “Stop, I was so nervous too.” 

She chuckles, “I know, babe.” 

“Then why didn’t you just say something?” 

“I needed to know that it was real, that you were falling for me as hard as I was falling for you,” Her face flushed red, she was second guessing it too. 

“I think I couldn’t be more in love with you than I am right now,” I mumbled into her, a smile spreading onto her face. 

“I think I might love you more,” I raise my head to look at her, “What’s with that look?” 

“I’m literally the one who asked you out...I love you more.” 

“Nope,” She shook her head. I gave her another look. 

“Yeah, come on. I’ve had this massive crush on you for like two years.” 

“Try four, sweetheart.” 

My eyes widened, “Four?” 

She nods, “Yep, I’ve always liked you. The day I saw you in that coffee shop, I literally couldn’t take my eyes off you. I’ve never been so consumed with the feeling of infatuation so strongly in my life. The way you talked so nicely to the barista, the way you smiled, the way you covered your mouth when you laughed, the way your cheeks tinted pink when you got a small compliment, just...everything.” She paused, “I wanted to ask you out then and there, but I had been staring, and completely forgot if you were to turn around, you’d bump right into me.” 

“And I did.” 

“I’m glad I didn’t move.” 

“Me too.” 

a/n: lowkey like it...lowkey hate it

[itneverendshere]

school spirit and all! - soccer!frat!rafe cameron (+18) - part iii (final)

warnings: angst; smut; word count: 6.3k (sorry)

what the fuck. 

as soon as the words left his mouth, you wondered how many hits to the head soccer players got each match, because there was no way in hell rafe cameron was in love with you.

suddenly hyperaware of your nakedness, you stood up, almost falling off his bed in the process.

in a frantic scramble, you reached for your clothes, tugging on your jersey inside out and hopping around on one foot trying to pull up your shorts.

"what's wrong with you?! we just had sex!"

rafe blinked, still dazed from your anything but innocent activities.

“uh, yeah, that's kind of when these feelings hit me.”

you paused, one leg in your levis shorts, the other still “bare”, and shot him a look. 

 "you don't just drop the l-word after sex! are you insane!" you managed to get your shorts up and fastened, albeit a bit crookedly, “jesus christ.”

“i didn’t mean to freak you out, it just came—"

“yeah, well, maybe lead with something less dramatic” you snorted, tugging your shirt the right way around. "i mean, who does that?"

he laughed, the sound rich and warm, and for a moment you were torn between being annoyed and charmed, “i’m sorry. i meant it tho.”

“no, you didn’t.” you shot back, rolling your eyes as you fumbled with your shoelaces.

“i did,” he insisted, his voice earnest, but you were too busy wrestling with your stubborn converse to look up.

“you don't even know me."

"course i do," he looked offended, like you insulted him, "your birthday is on october 8th, and your favorite color is blue. your favorite food is picanha and kimchi ramyeon. you do this thing when you're happy where you just speak really loud, all the time and when your favorite song comes on, which is all of them really, you always squeal—"

you think you lost at least three brain cells as you stood there, jaw dropped to the floor, listening to him list all the things he knew about you.

correctly.

"y’know what sherlock?” you said suddenly, standing up, finally fully dressed but still feeling exposed. “i need some air. a lot of it.”

“what?”

“i’m leaving.”

“wait—" you hear the sound of sheets ruffling, “wait a sec—dammit!”

you didn't look back as you hurried out of his room, the sounds of the frat party thumping from downstairs, music seeping through the walls. the hallway was packed with people, and you pushed your way through the crowd, your mind racing. oh my god. everyone was seeing you leave rafe cameron’s room in a hurry. there was no way in hell you’d have a peaceful week after this.

you were almost reaching the door when you felt a hand grab your upper arm. you turned around to see rafe, now dressed in shorts and a t-shirt, “can we talk about this?”

the music was deafening, forcing you to practically scream to be heard. “what part of 'too much' don’t you get?”

“why?” he asked, his voice barely cutting through the noise. “why does it have to be too much?”

“because it is!” you shouted, then softened your tone just enough to be less harsh, “just let it go.”

he let go of your arm, but his eyes stayed locked on yours. “’m not asking you to say it back, okay?”

you felt the weight of curious eyes on you. the partygoers’ stares only made you want to leave even more. desperation clawed at your chest.

rafe closed his eyes, shaking his head slightly, “did that really feel like only sex to you?”

you bit your lip, the regret hitting you immediately, but you couldn't stop now. you needed to get out.

“yeah.” you replied, even though your heart screamed at you to take it back.

he stepped back, letting go of your arm completely. “fine. go on then," he said, his tone flat and lifeless. “just go.”

“i’m sorry—" you started again, but rafe's expression hardened. he’d never looked at you like that and you hated every single second of it.

he stepped back further, creating a physical distance, as if to save himself the hurt, “leave.”

you didn’t have to be told twice, you wanted to be anywhere but there. you couldn't delete the image of his face when you rejected him from your brain. 

as soon as you were outisde, you pulled out your phone, and dialed pope's number. he picked up on the third ring, his voice laced with excitement.

"the dick was that bad? i could've sworn—”

tears were already threatening to fall as you tried to steady your voice. "pope, can you... can you pick me up?"

“huh?”

"i just... i need to get out of here," you managed, voice cracking as you wrapped an arm around yourself, feeling strangely exposed.

"shit. okay. i'll be there in ten minutes.”

you found a quiet spot near the edge of the campus, too embarrassed to sit outside rafe’s frathouse with so many people coming and going. leaning against a tree, you sank down, hugging your knees to your chest.

what the hell were you doing? had you just permanently ruined your friendship with rafe? let your little mommy issues get ahead of you?

when pope finally pulled up in his car, you climbed in wordlessly, unable to meet his eyes. 

“what did he do? you want me to punch him? cause y’know i’ll call jj and we—"

you leaned your head against the cool glass of the car window, “this was such a fucking bad idea.”

he glanced at you briefly before focusing back on the road, “what? why?”

“because.”

pope's brow furrowed in confusion. "what did he say?"

"that he loved me.”

“what the fuck?!" your body jolted forward, your heart racing from the sudden stop. the motherfucker accidentally slammed the brakes.

“pope, what the hell?”

“my bad, fuck,” he muttered, regaining control of the car and easing back onto the road, “he dropped that shit on you?”

“yeah.”

“okay, that’s kinda fucked, but—“ pope glanced at you again, concern etched on his face. “look, cameron might be a lot of things, but he’s not a liar. man, he’s the complete opposite if you ask me. too fucking honest for his own good.”

“he picked the worst time to be honest,” you muttered, wiping away a tear, “i literally had his dick in my hands!”

“dude!” pope faux-gagged, “i don’t need the details, jesus.”

“sorry,” you said, half-laughing through your tears. “it’s just... how can he love me? he doesn’t even know me! that’s what’s pissing me off the most.”

that was a lie.

pope sighed, shaking his head. “i don’t know, but it sounds like he’s really into you. you spent a lot of time together, right? maybe he knows you better than you think.”

he does.

“don’t get smart on me pope howard. i need your support right now, not this sentimentalist bullshit.”

pope chuckled, “you’ve got to talk to him. y’know that, right?”

you groaned, lifting the palms of your hands to your eyes, “why?”

“because you care about him, you dumbass. that’s fucking obvious.”

“stop making sense,” you mumbled, sighing heavily. “i need you to be angry with me, pope.”

he shook his head, a small smile playing at his lips. "i'm your best friend. my job is to tell you what you need to hear, not what you want to hear.”

you slumped further into your seat, “this is your fault anyway. you planted the stupid idea in my brain.”

“me? this is all you.”

your mouth dropped, “be fucking serious. you told me to sleep with him! for sports!”

“yeah, okay, i’ll take the blame but…”

“but?” you narrowed your eyes in warning, “but what?”

he shrugged innocently, “you never listened to me up to that point. i didn’t think you’d do it. that’s gotta mean something.”

“stop making me think,” you muttered under your breath, letting your head fall back against the seat. “i just want to forget this whole night happened.”

“maybe you just need some time to figure out how you feel.”

“i don’t feel anything,” you lied, staring out the window at the passing lights. “he’s just rafe cameron.”

pope sighed again, the kind of sigh that said he didn’t believe you for a second. “whatever you say."”

he dropped you off at your dorm, waiting until you were inside before driving away. you made your way to your room, collapsing onto your bed. why did you feel like such a terrible person?

you grabbed your phone and scrolled through your contacts, stopping at rafe’s name. your thumb hovered over the call button before you shook your head, tossing the phone aside.

you needed time. time to think, time to breathe, and time to figure out what the hell you wanted.

the next morning, you woke up with a headache and a sense of unease that settled deep in your chest. you dragged yourself out of bed. pope had texted you, a simple “hope you’re okay <3” that made you smile despite everything. you quickly replied, assuring him you were fine, even if you didn’t fully believe it.

you weren’t.

not when your first class of the day was with rafe. but you could do it.

you walked into class just in time, like you always did, only this time you were dreading the inevitable awkwardness of being sat next to rafe.

you hadn’t thought this through. he usually got here before you, real heavy on being on time for everything he did. you tried to keep your eyes locked on the professor, who was gathering the material for class, but you still took small peeks towards the door, expecting to see him stroll in at any given moment.

except he never did. as the lecture progressed, he never showed up. 

when the professor eventually asked about his whereabouts, kelce, his friend who sat a few rows behind you, raised his hand casually.

“rafe’s not feeling well today,” kelce spoke up, his tone nonchalant. he glanced over at you briefly, a knowing look in his eyes that made your stomach twist. 

oh great, so now you were the witch of the wicked west to all his friends. 

the professor nodded sympathetically. “alright, thank you for letting me know, kelce. make sure he gets the notes from today’s lecture.”

kelce nodded in acknowledgment, and the class moved on, but your mind was racing. rafe skipping class wasn’t like him. the timing felt deliberate, almost as if he was avoiding you after last night. 

as the lecture continued, you realized rafe wouldn’t be the only one needing notes. all you’d done for two hours was scramble down a few words, none of them making any sense. you struggled to focus on the material. every glance towards the door was met with disappointment.

maybe this was serious. maybe he hated you now.

after what felt like an eternity, the class finally ended. packing up your things, you hesitated before deciding to approach kelce, who lingered near his seat. you’d only spoken to him a handful of times, mainly when you and rafe studied back at the frat house.

kelce was nice. but the look he was giving you now, was anything but.

"hey, kelce," you began, trying to sound casual.

"hey," kelce replied cautiously, eyeing you up and down. 

you swallowed, suddenly feeling self-conscious under his scrutiny.

"um, is rafe okay? is he sick?”

he nodded slowly, his gaze unwavering, “the flu. got it last night."

"l-last night?” 

“yup.”

“oh.”

kelce's brows furrowed slightly, “look, i don’t know what happened. but, he’s…not doing okay.”

your stomach sank. it was clear rafe was avoiding you, and the guilt gnawed at you even more. "i just... i didn't mean to..."

kelce cut you off gently, his voice softening. "that’s none of my business.”

"yeah," you murmured, feeling utterly inadequate.

"he'll come around," kelce reassured you, though his tone lacked conviction.

you nodded dumbly, unsure of what else to say. part of you wanted to apologize again, but...you’d done nothing wrong. there was no need to explain yourself.

"thanks," you managed weakly, offering a half-hearted smile.

kelce nodded in response, his expression remaining neutral. with that, you turned and hurried out of the classroom, feeling the weight of kelce's gaze on your back. the hallways felt suffocating, with whispered conversations and curious glances that only amplified your discomfort. did everyone know? was there a journal column telling everyone who got laid last night? fucking hell.

back in your dorm room, you collapsed onto your bed, burying your face in your hands. this was worse than what you’d expected. you couldn't stop seeing the image of rafe's hurt expression, his quiet insistence that he meant what he said.

your phone buzzed beside you, and you hesitated before picking it up, sighing in realief when you saw it was a text from pope.

"baaaabeeee, how did it go?"

did he really want to know the mess you'd made of things?

after a moment's hesitation, you replied with a simple, "not great. think everyone hates me lol"

pope's response was almost immediate. “shit. you wanna to talk about it?"

you bit your lip, undecided between wanting to unload everything and wanting to bury it all deep down. in the end, you settled for a brief reply. “later."

that went on for a week and three days.

you avoided rafe’s usual hangouts, keeping your head down and focusing on your classes. you still hadn’t seen him, and it was starting to drive you crazy. you needed to talk to him, but you were scared. like, shitless scared, of what he’d say, scared of what you’d feel.

it was hours later when you finally saw him again. you were in the library, buried in your notes, the ones who’d stolen from pope because you hadn’t been able to focus properly in any class and you hated that you’d let a boy have so much control over your brain, let alone a jock.

when you looked up and saw him standing at the entrance. he looked a little too good. the typical shorts hitting just above his knees, a loose sleeveless shirt that showed off his muscles way too much for your sanity, and his hair peeking out from under a snapback. 

good enough to eat.

he spotted you almost immediately and then quickly turned his head to side, ignoring you. 

ouch. okay, fair enough all things considered.

your heart skipped a beat. it was now or never. for a moment, you considered hiding, but you knew you couldn’t avoid him forever. taking a deep breath, you stood up and made your way over to him.

“hey,” you said softly, your heart pounding in your chest, trying to sound as casual as possible.

rafe looked up for a second, then returned his attention to the phone in his hands, “hey.”

“can we talk?” you asked.

he shrugged, and it took everything in you not to punch him in the face. “sure.”

you swallowed hard, trying to find the right words. “sorry about the other night. i-i didn’t handle it well.”

he nodded, but his gaze remained on his phone, fingers typing away. “yeah, i get it.”

you frowned, sensing that something was off. he’d never ignored you before, he wasn’t even giving you the dignity of looking at you as you spoke to him. 

“are you okay?”

“fine,” he replied curtly.

before you could ask him what the fuck is problem was now, a girl approached, her smile bright, almost blinding you. she was ridiculously pretty, with long braided hair and sparkling brown eyes.

a literal doll.

she looked between you and rafe, “hi, are you ready to go?”

your heart sank as the girl slipped her arm around rafe’s arm and he finally put his stupid phone away and smiled down at her.

heavy on the ouch.

“yeah, let’s go,” rafe said, his voice softening, but then he turned to you, his expression blank again, “see you around.”

you stood there, watching them walk away feeling like a complete fucking idiot. like you were being pranked. what the hell was that? was he trying to make you jealous? or was he moving on that quickly? was there even something to move on from?

you returned to your seat, barely registering the world around you.

is that what he meant by telling you he loved you? you’ve been feeling bad over a boy who clearly only said what he said because you fucked him too good? wow.

you tried to focus on your notes, but your hands were trembling. without realizing it, you started tearing at the pages, ripping them apart. by the time you looked down, half of your notes were in shreds, scattered across the table.

“dammit,” you hissed under your breath. you gathered the torn pieces, stuffing them into your bag. there was no salvaging them now. 

with a frustrated sigh, you pulled out your phone and dialed pope’s number. 

“what’s up?”

“i need to get fucked up tonight.” you said bluntly, not bothering to hide the frustration you were feeling. 

“buy a guy a drink first?”

you could hear him snicker at his own joke, “shut up. are there any parties?”

“yeah, heard there's a big one at the delta house. everyone’s going.”

“okay. we’re going too.”

pope sighed, “i don’t remember signing up for this.”

“shut up and pick me up at 9.”

you decided that tonight was the night to go all out. no more hiding, no more feeling sorry for yourself. you rummaged through your closet, tossing aside clothes that were too plain, too boring, or just not the vibe you were going for. 

finally, you found it—the perfect outfit, and possibly the sluttiest thing you proudly owned.

you slipped into a sleek, black leather mini skirt that hugged your curves perfectly, hitting just the right spot on your thighs. you paired it with a cropped, red satin top that showed just enough skin to be daring but not over the top. the top had a deep v-neckline, accentuating your collarbones and drawing attention to the delicate gold necklace you wore. the outfit was completed with a pair of knee-high black boots, giving you an edge and adding a few extra inches to your height. you never wore them out, too worried that your feet would be killing you after a couple of minutes, but tonight, if you got drunk enough, you wouldn’t feel shit.

you looked at yourself in the mirror, adjusting the top and smoothing down the skirt. 

your makeup was bold, different from what you usually did—a smoky eye that made your eyes pop and a deep red lipstick that matched your top perfectly. you left your hair loose, allowing it to fall in soft waves. satisfied with your look, you grabbed a small clutch and headed out.

when pope arrived to pick you up, his jaw practically hit the floor. he stared at you, eyes wide, as you strutted towards the car.

“i'm sorry—are we going to a strip club or to a party?” he blurted out.

"are you slutshaming me?"

"no, but be real for a second."

you rolled your eyes, but a small smirk played on your lips. “don’t be dramatic. just wanted to look good.”

“look good?” pope repeated, still in disbelief, “sweets, you always look good, okay? but this? you look like you’re about to rip someone’s heart out.”

“good,” you replied, sliding into the passenger seat. “that’s the goal.”

he shook his head, muttering something under his breath about needing to keep an eye on you all night.

“you’re gonna tell me what happened?”

“nothing happened.”

“right.”

the delta house was already packed when you arrived, the music thumping so loud you could feel it in your chest. you walked in with pope by your side, determined to leave all your worries at the door.

“alright, let’s get some drinks,” pope clapped his hands, rubbing them together before leading you to the makeshift bar. you could feel eyes on you as you walked through the crowd, whispers and stares following your every step. you ignored them. 

so what if people knew you fucked rafe? that was your business, not theirs.

you grabbed a tequilla shot, downing it quickly and feeling the alcohol warm you up from the inside. pope handed you another, and you sipped it more slowly, trying to steady your nerves.

“easy. ‘m not holding your hair back if you throw up,” he warned, nudging you gently. “just relax and have fun. cleo’s joining later.”

“awwww, look at you being soft."

“shut up. don’t embarrass me in front of her."

you placed your hand over your heart, “i would never!”

the night wore on, the party growing louder. you danced, laughed, and mingled, trying to keep your mind off rafe and the mess you'd made of things. pope stuck by your side, and cleo, the girl of his dreams, joined you eventually, her energy infectious. 

you were happy he’d found someone. 

you were at the bar, grabbing another drink, when you saw rafe walk in.

your heart nearly dropped out of your ass, but you forced yourself to stay calm. he was with the same girl from the library and seeing them together made your stomach churn. he hadn't even noticed you yet, too busy talking to her.

"pope," you called, nudging him. "look who's here."

pope glanced over and sighed. "ignore him, please. we're here to have fun, remember?"

you nodded, drowning another shot, "right. fun."

it was easier said than done. every time you glanced their way, you wanted to storm up to him and punch him in that stupid perfect face. why did it bother you so much? he was just a guy. just rafe cameron. you downed another drink, hoping the alcohol would numb the emotions swirling inside you.

“goddamn mama, are you drinking yourself to death?”

jj’s presence barely phased you, “yes.”

“what’s got you so worked up?”

you groaned, not really in the mood for his antics. “nothing. just havin’ a good time.”

“yeah, right,” jj snorted, stealing your drink and taking a sip. “try again. this shit is 95% vodka by the way.”

you snatched it from his hands, “don’t drink my shit. don’t wanna talk about it.”

“alright,” he held up his hands in mock surrender, “dance with me then?”

“no.”

“pleaseee,” he begged, jutting out his bottom lip in a ridiculous pout, “c’mon.

despite your best efforts to stay frustrated, his infectious energy made you crack a smile. "fine, but just one song maybank."

jj whooped, “atta girl.”

he grabbed your hand with a mischievous grin and pulled you onto the crowded dance floor. you laughed as he twirled you around, his movements were surprisingly graceful. one time he made you faceplant the floor, so this was an improvement. 

his energy has always been infectious, jj was a literal golden retriever in human from and soon enough you found yourself letting go of all the worries that had been weighing you down. you moved in sync with him, your hips swaying, and your arms following the flow of the music. jj’s playful antics kept you entertained—he'd throw in a spin or a sudden dip, making you laugh even harder.

but then, he leaned in close, his voice barely audible over the music.

“guess who's watching?"

you raised an eyebrow, trying to catch your breath between giggles.

"who?"

jj nodded towards the edge of the dance floor, where rafe stood with a group of his friends. “my number one fan. been eyeing us since we started."

“uh,” you glanced in his direction, catching rafe’s gaze briefly before he looked away, “that’s weird.”

“i know you two fucked.”

your hand instantly reached out to shove jj’s shoulder, “shut up.”

“i'm serious. you’re gonna let him watch or show him what he's missing?"

on one hand, you were furious at rafe for bringing another girl to the party so soon after whatever had happened between you two. after telling you he was in love with you. sure you were a bitch after, but that didn’t mean you didn’t care for him. on the other hand, jj’s always made you go off the rails, in a way that stoked your pride. 

“fine,” you said with a defiant grin, “let’s give him a show.”

jj’s smirk widened, and without missing a beat, he spun you around and pulled you in closer, moving with even more enthusiasm than before. the music pounded around you, you couldn’t even tell the lyrics apart. every twirl, every dip, every sway of your hips was a message to rafe—whether he was watching or not—that you were done feeling sorry for yourself. as the song reached its peak, jj dipped you low, and you laughed breathlessly. you glanced towards where rafe had been standing, but he was gone.

then, without warning, from the corner of your eye, you saw a commotion erupting nearby. before you could react, the crowd around you began to murmur and part, revealing rafe. what the hell? what was this? a coming-of-age movie?

his usually friendly composed demeanor was gone, the glare in him was enough to scare anyone in his way. he stormed towards you, his eyes locked on jj. and then it clicked.

“oh for fuck's sake,” you groaned under your breath, knowing that nothing good would come out of it.

"hey, what the—" jj started, but before he could finish, rafe swung a punch at him.

yep, there it was. 

the blow caught jj off guard, knocking him back a step. the music seemed to stop, or at least fade into the background as chaos erupted around you. people gasped and shouted, some pulling rafe away while others checked on jj.

you pinched the bridge of your nose in annoyance as you watched jj touch his jaw gingerly. 

“what the fuck, cameron?” jj groaned, “watch the pretty face.”

rafe’s chest was heaving as he glared at the other blonde, fists typically clenched by his side, looking as if he was ready to pounce on him again. before he could take another step, you placed yourself in front of him, blocking jj’s figure sitting on the ground.

“upstairs. right now,” rafe opened his mouth to spit something, but you cut him off, “now.”

he moved silently, following you up a flight of stairs to a quieter area. you could hear his breathing from miles away, he was still worked up. you found an empty room and stepped inside, slamming the door shut behind you.

“what the hell was that?” you demanded, turning to face him.

rafe ran a hand through his face, frustration evident in his every movement. “i don’t know, okay? i just—i saw you with him, and i lost it.”

“oh, so you’re a caveman now?”

"god, you can be so fucking infuriating," rafe exploded, throwing his jacket into a corner of the room, "i saw you. touching him like... like none of this matters!"

"none of what matters?" you shot back, incredulous. "you show up with another girl after telling me you love me, and now i‘m not supposed to move on? what do you expect?"

"me?!" he jabbed a finger into his chest, his face flushed with anger. "that was my damn tutor! i wasn't trying to—shit. you think i'm trying to move on? i told you i loved you. that shit doesn’t just disappear because you don't feel the same way."

now you just felt stupid.

"your tutor?" you repeated, trying to wrap your head around the new information.

“we weren’t exactly on speaking terms and i needed help with calculus,” he muttered, “didn’t think you’d want to speak to me. and i was still sad.”

rafe shifted uncomfortably in his place, his expression now softer. you felt the sudden urge to hug him, but you didn’t. 

“you said you were supposed to move on,” he says carefully eyeing you.

“i did?” you lied, suddenly feeling like the room was closing in on you, “i don’t think so.”

“you did,” he said firmly, taking a step closer to you. "i meant what i said that night. did you?” 

you looked away for a moment, “rafe—“

“i don’t care if you don’t love me, you don’t have to, not right now. i just need to know if you think you can, one day.”

this wasn’t the rafe who punched jj, or the rafe who stormed through the crowd in a fit of jealousy. this was the rafe you were used to. 

your ears were ringing as he closed the distance between you. his eyes searching yours, desperate for an answer. the anger had melted away, replaced by a raw, aching need. fuck, he was good.

“listen—” you started again, but this time your voice was softer, trembling. he was so close now that you could feel the heat radiating off his body, his breath mingling with yours, “can you back up? jesus. can’t think properly with you close.”

“don’t want to back up,” he whispered, his voice low and rough. he didn’t move, instead leaning in even closer, his lips brushing your ear, “yes or no?”

“cameron,” you breathed, trying to maintain some semblance of control.

but he wasn’t having it.

his hand cupped your cheek, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. “tell me you don’t feel this,” he murmured, his thumb tracing your lower lip. “tell me you don’t want me too.”

he held your face by the jaw before leaning forward on instinct to kiss you but stopped himself right before he did. eyes on his lips now, completely entranced, you leaned forward to finish what he started but he was stopping you with his thumb. you stayed close though, gaze still fixated on his bottom lip and when his eyes flicker up to yours again, they’re wild and dark.

“you gonna make me fuck it out of you?”

you couldn’t deny the way your body reacted to him, the way your pulse quickened every time he was near, “and if i do?”

he didn't answer immediately, instead closing the gap between you in a heartbeat. his lips crashed against yours, his hand sliding from your jaw to your neck, wrapping his fingers around it as he squeezed you deliciously. 

all of a sudden, you were pressed against a wall, his body firm against yours, pinning you with his weight. he got a groan out of you, tilting your head as his grip tightened on your hips to keep you there, secured to him.

“this isn’t fair,” you pushed at his shoulder with your palm so that he pulled away to look at you, “you’re playing dirty.”

“so what?” he breathes out, jaw relaxed as his hips start to grind against yours.

your hand reached out to grab his shoulder for purchase when your hips started to move on their own, “oh fuck.”

rafe arched his hips sharply, teasing your clit, eliciting a gasp as you leaned your head against the wall, your chin tilting towards the ceiling. he kissed your neck, where sweat-dampened hair started to cling at your nape.

when did it get so hot in the stupid room?

“you’re—oh, gonna f-fuck me in a stranger’s room? real romantic,” you tried to sound casual, but it came out all wrong when his fingers pressed into the plush of your ass. 

he laughed against your skin, the sound making you tighten your legs around him. you were glad his hands were currently busy because a single touch between your thighs would expose how wet you were. 

“you can say it.”

your arms slided past his shoulders and loosely locked behind his neck, “no.”

rafe shook his head, “you asked for it.”

“rafe.”

he was poking his tongue to the inside of his cheek looking at you as if he was ready do destroy you whole, “told you i was gonna get it out of you.”

you blinked slowly, savoring the sight of his face, then your wrists, still crossed behind his neck, tugged gently, drawing him closer, craving his threat, “you’re gonna fuck me until i confess?

he lowered his head until his forehead met yours, your fingers could sense the rapid throb of his pulse beneath his jaw, his eyes tender, holding an adoration you never knew was possible. no one had ever looked at you that way. 

you pulled him by the fabric of his shirt, hard enough to make him understand he needed to do something. you moaned against his lips, fingers threading through his hair as he trailed kisses down your neck, sucking and biting gently at the sensitive skin.

your skirt rode up as he rutted into you, and his hand slipped under the fabric, fingers grazing the edge of your panties, teasingly close to where you ached for him most. you gasped, arching into his touch, silently begging for more.

“rafeee,” you whimpered, “please."

he pulled back slightly, his breath ragged, eyes dark with lust. “say it,” he demanded, his fingers tracing patterns on your inner thigh, driving you crazy with anticipation.

“no.” you managed to choke out, feeling a flush of heat spread through your body.

he raised a brow, “no?”

his fingers slipped beneath the thin fabric of your panties, finding you wet and ready. he groaned at the feel of you, his thumb circling your clit with just the right amount of pressure to make you moan his name. you clung to him, hips bucking against his hand, chasing the pleasure he was giving you.

“you sure?” he murmured against your skin, his voice husky and full of promise. 

you barely had time to think about changing your answer before he plunged two thick fingers inside you, curling them just right to hit that spot that made your vision blur. your back arched off the wall, your head falling back as waves of pleasure crashed over you. he pumped his fingers in and out of you, his thumb never leaving your clit, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“rafe, i'm—” you couldn’t even finish the sentence, your body trembling as you felt the orgasm build, ready to spill over.

but then he was pulling back just as you were about to fall over the edge. it was maddening, the way he seemed to know exactly how to bring you right to the cusp of pleasure and then deny it. you’d only fucked once before, and it felt like he’d memorize every single thing you liked. every spot that made your toes curl. 

“please, let me—”

“you said no, baby” he interrupted, a mocking smile curling on his lips. “you’re not ready.”

his fingers moved with practiced precision, slow and deliberate, stoking the flames of your desire without allowing you any release. every time you felt the pleasure building to its peak, he’d ease off, bringing you back down, only to start all over again.

you clawed at his shoulders, trying to pull him closer, but he held you firm against the wall, his body a solid, unyielding barrier. “please,” you begged again, “i can’t take it.”

“oh, you can,” he scolded, lips brushing against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “and you will.”

his thumb pressed against your clit, rubbing slow, torturous circles, while his fingers thrust inside you, curling just right to hit that spot that made you see stars. you bucked against his hand, your body pleading for release, but he kept you balanced on that knife’s edge, never letting you tip over. motherfucker.

“I need to come,” you admitted, your voice cracking with desperation. “please, baby. i need to come.”

rafe’s pretty blue eyes darkened with satisfaction at your words, but he still didn’t relent. 

instead, he slowed his movements even more, drawing out the pleasure until it was almost unbearable. you writhed against him, your body trembling, every nerve ending on fire.

“you want to come?” he asked, his voice a seductive purr, “that bad, huh?”

“t-this isn’t f-fair.”

“awww, sorry baby."

“fuck, fucking—"

“that’s my girl,” he murmured, his voice filled with approval. “just a lil more, yeah?”

he increased the pace of his fingers, his thumb rubbing faster against your clit, and you felt the pleasure building again, higher and higher, until you were sure you couldn’t take it anymore. but this time, he didn’t stop. this time, he pushed you right to the edge and then, finally, let you fall.

your orgasm crashed over like a train wreck, your body convulsing with the intensity of it. you screamed his name, your nails digging into his shoulders as you clung to him, riding out the waves of pleasure that seemed to go on forever. rafe held you through it, his fingers never stopping, drawing out every last bit of your release until you were a boneless, panting mess in his arms.

“good girl,” he murmured, his voice soft and filled with affection. 

he kissed you tenderly, his lips a gentle contrast to the intensity of what you’d just experienced. as you came down from your high, he held you close, his fingers still inside you, his thumb gently stroking your clit, sending aftershocks of pleasure through your body.

you couldn’t find the words to answer, your mind too foggy with pleasure. instead, you just held onto him, your arms wrapped around his neck, your face buried in the crook of his shoulder.

rafe’s fingers slowly withdrew from you, leaving you feeling empty and aching for more. he lifted you gently, carrying you to the bed and laying you down with his casual tenderness. he climbed in beside you, pulling you into his arms, his body warm and solid against yours.

“i love you,” his voice was a soft caress against your ear. “i meant it.”

you looked up at him, “i know,” you whispered, leaning in to kiss him, “i think i love you too.”

“i know.”

[multifandomgirl08]

A Year in Moments [Mini Verstappen Series]

Dad!Max Verstappen x Mother!Reader (Established Relationship)

Photo Credit: Pinterest/Tumblr

Format: Social Media

Summary: 2026 in little moments

Previous Part → Next Part Mini Verstappen Masterlist

danielricciardo

Liked by ynverstappen and 386,457 others

tagged: maxverstappen1 & ynverstappen

danielricciardo Apparently I crashed date night. Sorry for being the third wheel guys.

ynverstappen Third wheel? What are you talking about?

maxverstappen1 danielricciardo You were flirting with my wife just as much as I was. ynverstappen He was flirting with me only when he wasn't flirting with you. danielricciardo Have you seem Max?? Why wouldn’t I flirt with him? ynverstappen True, he's something that needs to be cherished. danielricciardo I love that we're fighting over Max. How you feel about that mate? maxverstappen1 Pretty good! Please do continue... or you know save it for when you are next at the house.

View all 574 comments

fan85 Wait, does this mean that Y/N knows about Maxiel? The Verstappens and Daniel?!

fan61 I thought we all made a gentlemen’s (fangirl’s) agreement not to bring up Maxiel on IG.

fan23 Does Daniel get invited out to dinner with Max and Y/N often?

fan38 There has to be more to this story!

February 10, 2026

ynverstappen

Liked by georgerussell63, lilymhe and 348,926 others

tagged: lilymhe, carmenmmundt,...

ynverstappen Things can get crazy when it's just us

sebastianvettel Please bring back my wife in one piece.

alex_albon Should I be concerned that my flat is going to be a mess when I get home?

View all 745 comments

fan18 When all the F1 WAGs have dinner together!

fan67 How do you get an invite to this dinner? Asking for a friend.

fan39 Become a WAG. How else?

fan49 Is no one going to talk about the fact that all of the WAGs are having dinner together just after Mother’s Day??

May 28, 2026

ynverstappen 📍Circuit de Spa-Francorchamps

Liked by danielricciardo and 234,845 others

ynverstappen Our weekend in Spa

View all 842 comments

fan95 Nico looks just like Max

fan76 Has anyone ever met Y/N at a race?

fan45 I met her last year at Silverstone. She was super nice, even offered to take my picture with Lando who was walking with her and Nico.

fan63 I feel like Nico is just the sweetest kid.

fan56 Can confirm. Aside from Y/N, Nico just wanted to spend the day with his dad and his little brother when I saw them earlier today.

fan44 Wondering why Y/N hasn't posted any pictures of Nikita given that he was at Spa?

fan60 I don't think it's strange for Y/N not to post any pictures of Nikita given that he's only 9 months old. Y/N wasn't even sitting in the garage like she normally does on race day. It's probably too loud for his little ears.

August 2, 2026

ynverstappen

Liked by yourbestfriend and 451,045 others

tagged: maxverstappen1

ynverstappen Best view in The Maldives

danielricciardo I taught this man how to thirst trap!

ynverstappen You did, I've never been more grateful!

View all 456 comments

fan23 I love that they've become the couple that just drops thirst traps of one another

fan74 Y/N is feeding us all of the good content

fan86 Is that baby Nikita with Max in the last photo?

August 27, 2026

ynverstappen

Liked by maxverstappen1, victoriaverstappen and 238,475 others

tagged: victoriaverstappen

ynverstappen Happy Birthday to my awesome sister-in-law. Between the lunch dates, retail therapy, and picking on the man that I love. I wouldn't be able to survive family vacations without you.

📸: sophiekumpen

lilymhe The perfect sister-in-law duo

ynverstappen You know it babe

fan67 Lily is in Y/N's comments! OMG

fan23 When Y/N's photos are giving off S and B vibes

October 22, 2026

maxverstappen1 and ynverstappen

Liked by martingarrix, and 734,724 others

maxverstappen1 I would die for her. I would kill for her. Either way, what bliss.

📸 : lilymhe

georgerussell63 The actual physical embodiment of these characters

danielricciardo You've never looked better mate

landonorris Did you dye your hair? Brave man

maxverstappen1 Not hair dye, it's like spray I think?

View all 392 comments

fan73 They already give off this energy 😍😍

fan59 Mom and Dad

fan84 She really is everything, and he worships her.

October 31, 2026

----

Mini Verstappen taglist: @karmabyfernando, @barcagirly, @sachaa-ff, @iamahallucinationnn, @musingsbyshreya, @glow-ish, @nonsensical-nonsence, @fanboyluvr, @champomiel, @gothicwidowsworld, @lighttsoutlewis, @itsalwaysgay, @minkyungseokie, @mynameisangeloflife, @ursforever129, @aundercover, @bborra, @mindless-rock, @cixrosie, @barcelonaloverf1life, @taylorslovesswifties13, @konsti081, @mellowarcadefun, @smnthnclj, @brekkers-whore, @lpab, @thedecalcomania-blog, @xoscar03

[cdragons]

Fuck Everything, But Mostly Fuck You

Next Part

Summary: You have never, EVER, in a million years hated anyone the way you hated Felix fucking Catton.

Warnings- MDNI 18+, Felix is delulu, Reader is stressed and homesick and kinda crazy but she a baddie, Michael is Michael, Farleigh is Farleigh, Oliver will be Oliver (a creep), and author has spent too much time researching Oxford crap for this mess for a crack fic to be a crack fic

Author's Note: This fic is a follow-up to this post and I would like to thank grammarly for catching all my grammatical errors 🥲, @ethereal-athalia for enabling my crazy ideas 🥰, and @valeskafics for providing me Saltburn smut when I catch myself thirsting 😇

“FUCK!” you yelled at the top of your lungs just before your nose slammed down on the dewy grass.

Groaning in pain before the mortification of realizing what had just happened kicked in.

You didn’t know what was worse: the fact you had a full front view of the giant’s junk or that he body-slammed you onto the ground and caused you to land on top of the painting worth 30% of your final grade.

You wanted to scream your head off. The paint had finally dried, and you could finally leave the studio at two in the morning. It was close to finals, and pretty much anyone on campus who didn’t get accepted because of their daddy’s bank account was in their dorms. You had hoped that this fact would mean that the paths were empty and, therefore, safe to transport your 30” x 40” canvas.

“SORRY!”

You shot your head up to locate the person who just apologized. Lo’ and behold, it was the same plastered, pasty cunt with a bird’s nest disaster of a haircut drunken idiot who decided it was a good idea to go streaking across campus. His only other distinguishable features were that he was at least 6’3” and that he had a small steel piece pierced on his face.

After the “apology,” he and his friend continued running off to God’s knows where in the dead of night—leaving you behind on the lawn with a bleeding nose, bruised knees and palms, and an oil painting that was torn and caked in mud three days before its deadline.

There was no way to redo it. The project was assigned at the beginning of October. It took 5 hours to set up the models with the motifs and lights, 3 hours to take pictures, and 10 hours to underdraw the preliminary sketch. You didn’t even want to think about the sheer number of sleepless nights you spent in the studio mixing colors and layering. On top of that, you also had your other finals in other courses to study for.

You had practically been living in that studio for the past month. All of the custodians and security guards knew you by name. You got first dibs every day when they refilled the vending machines. It was a true godsend when you didn’t have time to visit the dining halls. Everyone had been so kind and sweet to you. It was a warm welcome compared to the snark and snobbery you experienced from most of your classmates.

Crying from the devastation of the loss of your situation, your shaking legs carried your body and what remained of your work into the building. You knew that your professor stayed in her office late for grading. You could only hope that she would sympathize with your pitiful appearance.

“Wait, so did you get the extension?”

Lifting your head from the sticky library table at Bodleian’s, you stared at your best only friend, Michael Gavey, with a blank stare. You didn’t react to his wince after he took in your haggard appearance. You didn’t need a mirror to know that you looked terrible.

Your eyes were puffy and bloodshot red with dark mulberry bags underneath them. You had paled since coming to dreary England, but now you looked straight-up sickly. And if that wasn’t enough, your eyes had less life than a dead fish rotting at a Sunday Market.

Your voice was so meek that you were sure he had to strain to hear you.

“Yeah…I got it.”

You knew you had no choice but to beg your Studio Arts professor for an extension. But it killed you doing it. Professor Daria Martin was your favorite teacher and the only faculty member who actually liked you. Her support toward you meant everything to you; the last thing you wanted to do was disappoint her, let alone be the reason why she lost her job.

Your usually so snarky four-eyed friend perked up at the news.

“So, is everything okay?” he asked with hope.

Your head fell on neon-yellow ink-stained pages that filled the paperweight your ethics professor called a textbook. A bitter laugh fell from as your lips lifted to a wry, dry grin.

“Oof, not that simple, is it?” he asked.

“Is it ever?”

“So what do you have to do now?”

“Well-,” you lifted your head to take a deep breath as you started to explain, “- I still have the photos and copies of the sketch. But because the canvas was so large, it was special-ordered. That means I need to wait until another one can be delivered, and since all the works need to be completed in the studio, I can’t leave the campus.”

As you finished your explanation, Michael nodded his head in understanding before he paused, and a look of devastation painted his features.

“Wait, so does that mean-”

“I won’t be able to fly back home for the holidays.”

Fuck, you were about to cry again. You had been so excited to see your old friends and family. You remembered how absolutely homesick you were at the beginning of the term. Because you were a scholarship student from America, your parents encouraged you to settle on campus by moving to your dorm earlier than everyone else. It was bad enough that you missed Thanksgiving, but you had really set your heart on coming home for Christmas and New Year’s. What made it worse was that your parents had told you all about the dinner they had planned for your homecoming. It was going to be a feast of all your favorites.

English food sucked balls.

Your only saving grace was the Crunchie bars Michael got for you when you studied together or when you had to rewrite edit his essays.

You really DID cry after first reading his essay for Introductory English class at the beginning of the year.

“Did you try to report it?”

“Report what? ‘Hey, there’s a wasted asshole running naked across campus, and he body-slammed me to the ground and tore my fucking massive campus that blocked my view of the jackass. He’s probably richer than the goddamn Queen, given how he’s wasted right before finals.’”

“Do you have any description of him?”

“He’s a giant with a small eyebrow piercing, and his fat ass looked like it had never seen the sun.”

Without lifting your head, you heard the scrape of Michael’s chair before he walked across the table to sit in the chair next to you.

“Hey,” he began, bringing you into a warm arm hug, “it’ll be okay. You called your parents about it, right?”

“Yeah -” you sighed before continuing, “- they told me they understood and would Skype me daily.”

“See! Everything’s going to be – wait, did you say that this guy was tall?”

Furrowing your brow in confusion, you looked at your friend at the change in his tone from light and supportive to sharp and interrogative.

“Yeah?”

“How tall?”

“Umm,” you had to think about that, “I’d say he was about 6’3” or above? He was really fucking tall.”

“And he had an eyebrow piercing?”

Ok, now you were really confused. “Yes? Michael, where are you going with this?”

“I think the guy who ran you over was Felix Catton.”

You shot your favorite idiot with a deadpan glare.

“Felix Catton? The same Felix Catton who just so happens to be the same Felix Catton you hate?”

Michael solemnly nodded. “It’s him. It has to be. The only person on campus as tall as him is his cousin, and he doesn’t have piercings.”

“And he’s black.”

“Yeah, that too.”

You were skeptical, and it showed. You didn’t want to callously dismiss your friend, but you knew more than anyone how much his hatred for Oxford’s Golden Boy could impair his judgment. You were by no means a fan of the guy, but accusing someone of anything they didn’t do just because your friend thought so went against your principles.

He grabbed your arm and dragged you to the bookshelf in front of the table where Felix and his groupies sat. Both of your books and bags were in your chairs, but you managed to keep your spiral notebook with you. It wasn’t hard to find them – they were the loudest table in the entire library. They also reeked of cigarettes and booze.

“See?” Michael hissed. “Giant, pale, and eyebrow piercing. It’s him!”

“Michael,” you softly groaned, “just because you hate Felix Catton doesn’t mean you can –”

An extremely shrill voice interrupted you.

“I can’t believe you and Farleigh actually ran around campus naked!”

A petite girl with full pink lips and dull red hair latched on the arm of the man of the hour. “It was so hot to watch!”

This girl has weird-ass tastes in guys.

“And then how you crashed into that dunce at Ruskin! Brilliant!”

Your blood ran cold while another one of Catton’s faceless droning puppets chimed in.

“God, what an idiot! It’s their own fault, anyway. Who the fuck walks in the middle of the walk path with a fucking big canvas in front of them?”

One of the lessons hammered into your skull young was never to move before you think. That lesson had saved you ten ways from Sunday. But this was not one of those times.

You’re pretty sure that you hear Michael calling out your name as you walk away from the shelf and towards the overcrowded table. Tunnel vision took over you as you made your way to the overgrown idiot who almost cost you your entire future.

Grabbing the back of his shirt collar, you dragged the 6’5” towering fool on his ass all the way outside. You finally let go when the two of you reached the back of the building that had no windows.

“Hey, what the fu –”

You didn’t let him finish as you brought your fist to hit him square in the face – and, fuck, did you relish the crunch that immediately followed your swing.

Fuck, was his head killing him.

Felix should have known better than to have gotten cross-faded last night, but Farleigh had practically goaded him to do it. It’s not like his cousin ever had to worry about his grades for any of his courses during finals – the little shit-starter had always been so fucking academically gifted.

He skipped pretty much all of his morning classes and barely made it to his afternoon schedule on time while completely zoning out the entire time.

If he bombs on all his finals, his dad was going to absolutely murder him. But chances were he and his mum were going to be too busy entertaining whichever new friend his mum brought in for shelter.

“You alright there, champ?”

Felix swiveled his head too quickly and immediately groaned in pain. The motion made his hangover even worse. Rubbing his eyes to try to soothe the pounding in his head, he slowly opened them to look at his cousin.

The slag didn’t have the decency to look even a little bit affected from last night’s event – the fucker. No, he was sitting there with all Cheshire grins and gleaming eyes while Felix was two seconds from heaving his guts out.

“Yeah, I’m alright, mate.” He replied in a tired groan.

“Must have been quite the night. Wonder if it had anything to do with that little cocktail you took from our sweet Annabel’s belly button?”

Disgust was clear on Felix’s face as he recalled the body shot he had taken from his ex-FWB’s navel. He truly must have been off his rocker last night – he thought he was over with body shots since graduating secondary, but apparently not.

If he somehow got an STD from doing it, V was going to kill him.

But even with all of his horrible actions that caused the raging war inside his skull, that wasn’t the main cause of his misery.

Farleigh’s grin dropped as judgment painted his features.

“Oh,” he moaned, “please tell me this isn’t about ‘your angel’ from last night.”

He didn’t just take the dare of streaking across the grounds just for the hell of it. He needed an excuse to pass through the art building – all for the chance of seeing you.

You. His angel of paints and books who lived in the empty studio rooms of Oxford University’s Ruskin School of Art and whose presence harangued him every hour of every day. Everywhere Felix went, he would unconsciously look for you.

It was his soul calling out for yours – he knew it.

Felix had never felt so drawn to another human being in his entire existence. He’d never seen you outside of the libraries, art building, and maybe the dining hall if he was lucky. You never went to any parties or even had a drink at the pub at King’s Arms. He didn’t even have classes with you, but he knew Farleigh did. Word was that you and his cousin had shared a few classes – what’s more was that you were likely the only person who could go head-to-head with him in academics.

And to make it worse, the prat refused to tell him anything about you – not even your fucking name.

“Believe me,” he told him after Felix had been begging his cousin for hours to share anything about you, “she is way above your league.”

Which really hurt his feelings, by the way – sure, you were probably way above in book smarts, but there wasn’t a girl that remained indifferent to his charms after a good talking fucking.

“I still can’t believe you won’t at least tell me her name,” Felix complained once more, “or even just give me her number!”

“She’s an American here on scholarship and a bore,” he quipped back, “what’s there to tell? And can you please shut up? I want to get some reading done before tonight. You do remember the in-class essay we have tomorrow, right?”

Bloody hell, he did not. Pushing down the bitter feeling in his chest, he and his cousin made their way to meet everyone at the back. As soon as he sat down, Annabel clung on to his arm. Thank fuck he had been wearing one of his thicker jumpers – otherwise, her claws that she called nails would have ripped open the fabric.

“Hey, Felix!” she made sure to offer a very generous sight of her cleavage, “are you ready for tonight?”

Felix chuckled lowly before responding. “Aren’t I always?”

And just like that – he completely zoned out the rest of the conversation.

Annabel was probably saying something to get him to notice her, and Farleigh was likely responding so he wouldn’t have to – but Felix couldn’t be bothered to pretend to care.

He was lost in the living daydream that was his angel that haunted the art studios of Ruskin School of Art.

He was desperate to learn everything about you.

If he asked you to talk about your favorite books, would your eyes sparkle in delight, or would your smile widen in glee?

If he grabbed your hand, would your palms feel marred by his rough skin, or would you press your callouses to his?

If he pressed his mouth on yours, would your lips feel as soft and plump as they look? Or was their luster forever damaged by your teeth biting them whenever you were in deep concentration?

If he breathed in your scent at the crook of your neck, would your skin smell like the paints forever on your brushes or the musky pages of heavy ancient books you always carried in your arms?

If he planted kisses from your throat to your breasts, would you mewl in pleasure or whimper in anticipation?

If he touched your cunt, would you arch your back in ecstasy? Or would your legs crumble, and you would have no choice but to sink into his arms?

Felix’s thoughts were rudely interrupted when Farleigh jammed his bony elbow into his ribcage and hurriedly whispered.

“Look alive, Golden Boy.”

Looking forward, it was better than any of his wet dreams combined. It was you.

Your hair was loose, and your fists were clenched. You reminded him of a ferocious lion goddess with how focused your gaze was on him.

But before Felix would prepare himself to make a good impression, you walked behind him and grabbed the back of his shirt collar before fucking dragging his ass out of his seat and outside.

Bloody hell, for someone so much shorter than him, you were fucking strong.

When you finally released your grip, he fell on the ground like an idiot before he tried to stand and steady himself as quickly as he could.

“Hey, what the fu –”

You didn’t let him finish as you brought your fist to hit him square in the face – and, fuck, you might have actually broken his nose.

After staggering back, you started using the spiral notebook in your other hand to land blow after painful blow on his body.

“YOU. STUPID. FUCKING. INGRATE –” Each word that left your mouth was emphasized with another hit from your notebook “– I. HATE. YOU. YOU. RUINED. MY. PAINTING. I. SPENT. SO. MUCH. TIME. ON. IT. AND. NOW. I. CAN’T. GO. HOME. FOR. BREAK. BECAUSE. OF. YOUR. STUPID. SELF!”

Felix was confident you had more to say, but you were pulled off him by your friend – he’s pretty sure it’s Mitchell – by the waist with you kicking and screaming out profanities to him as your friend called out your name to try to calm you down.

He wondered what it said about him if he told anyone how much you looked like an angry cat. His parents would send him to a shrink if he told them how adorable he found you right now.

If you were this wild while fighting, he could only imagine how riled up you would get in bed.

Fuck, you might have just unlocked a new kink in him.

Catching his breath as he watched your friend drag you away into the distance, he heard a slow clap to his left.

Farleigh was leaning on the corner – his smug expression making it clear that he had seen the whole thing – as he looked at his cousin with a bemused expression before walking toward him and giving a sympathetic pat on his back.

“Well,” he started to break the tension, “at least you know her name.”

“Yeah,” Felix agreed, “I know her name.”

And he knew that you smelled more like the paints on your brushes than the books you carried with subtle notes of gardenias.

Tagging: @aemondsbabe, @ethereal-athalia, @aphroditesmoon, @barbiedragon, @valeskafics, @lexyysworld, @punkiwiki, @saltburnedme, @arcielee

Let me know if you want to be tagged for future Saltburn fics!

[willowsnook]

When Love is Left Unspoken pt. 3 (MV)

max verstappen x reader

tags: @shelbyteller @formulaal @maluzets55 @dying-inside-but-its-classy @what-a-curated-mess @anilovessadbooks @how-what-why-huh @abbyandersonstargirl

pt. 1, pt. 2

After Brazil, you flew back to New York to catch up on brand content and the stack of books waiting for you. It was a rainy afternoon when just after filming your October reads, your phone pinged. Max was streaming. You'd turned the notifications back on after Austin but hadn’t actually tuned in.

Setting up your phone in the kitchen, you half-listened to him playing Minecraft as you started dinner. Then you heard him say your name, and you froze.

“Lots and lots of questions about y/n, I see. I’m trying to win her back, guys, so I need your help. Any suggestions?”

You smiled as you scanned the chat comments.

Move to NYC

Let her drive your F1 car

Fly her out to all your races

Propose

With a grin, you couldn’t resist joining the fun. Typing quickly, you sent a comment that lit up the chat.

Y/N: $500 worth of books is a good first step, I think.

The next morning, your doorman called. “I need you to come down and get these packages. There are way too many.”

Confused, you walked downstairs—only to be met with a pile of Barnes & Noble boxes and realization hit. Back in your apartment, you opened them to find 25 books from your Goodreads “want to read” list. Your heart swelled.

Y/N: Max! This was too much!

MV: Nothing is too much when it comes to you.

Later that day, you went live on Instagram, answering questions. Predictably, most were about Max. Your fans were torn, with some excited at the idea of you two rekindling and others still wary.

“Look, I get it. He did me dirty, but it’s complicated. It’s easy to say I shouldn’t even consider this, but we have 15 years of history. He’s… still my Max.”

A comment caught your eye.

Maxverstappen1: Glad to know I still have a chance.

The chat erupted, and before long, gossip accounts were tagging you in posts speculating on your relationship.

That evening, you were winding down with a glass of wine, just about to turn on the Thursday Night Football game, when there was a knock at your door. With a sigh, you shuffled to answer it, already irritated by the interruption—until you opened the door to find Max standing there.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, surprised.

“Oh, I was just in the area,” he said casually, his eyes gleaming, though you spotted a duffel bag at his feet.

“In the area? With your luggage?”

“Mmmhmm.” He grinned as you laughed, letting him in. He set his bag on the counter and pulled you into a warm hug, resting his head on top of yours.

“We’re supposed to be taking it slow, Max,” you reminded him, your voice muffled against his chest.

“Whatever, schatje.” He rolled his eyes as you led him to the couch. He plopped down beside you, lifting your legs onto his lap, and you couldn’t help but relax into the moment.

“How long are you staying?” you asked as he pretended to watch the game.

“Until Monday, if that’s okay.”

“And you just assumed I’d drop everything to host you?” you teased.

“Yeah,” he replied, turning back to the screen.

“Ugh, you’re impossible.”

He smirked. “Cheer up, schatje. I got us tickets to the Bills game on Sunday so you can see your team. And I get to see Daniel.”

Your face lit up. “Daniel’s going to be there?”

He narrowed his eyes, a hint of jealousy flickering. “Yeah. Don’t act too excited.”

You laughed, entwining your fingers with his, grateful for these small, familiar moments.

The next two days were spent showing Max around NYC, and you started to fall back into your old habits with him. He refused to let go of your hand anytime you were walking somewhere, and you felt his eyes on you everywhere you went. 

It was Saturday night, and you were waiting for a table outside of a restaurant, watching as Max took a selfie with a younger fan. 

“Is that your girlfriend? She’s pretty,” the young girl said, and you blushed. Max shot you a big smile. 

“She is pretty, but not my girlfriend. She will be soon,” he replied, and the girl giggled. 

Max led you to your table with one hand resting on your lower back. You’d chosen one of your favorite Italian restaurants, and you're eager to put a nice bottle of wine on his tab, of course. 

Sitting across from him, you felt nervous at the intimacy of the setting. His eyes were swimming with emotions of the past and where you were now. 

“I want to hear everything that has happened to you since I last saw you in Australia,” he said inquisitively. You took a sip of your wine before diving in. 

You told him about your channel growing and getting famous guests on the podcast. How you’d moved to New York a year ago for a change of scenery but still visited back home often. You told him about your friends who had started getting married and having kids, but you weren’t jealous of them; you were very content in your life. You described NYC at Christmas and how the first time you experienced it, you felt like you were in a different world. He listened as you mentioned a few guys you had briefly dated, and he was pleased to hear that none of them had worked out. 

Finishing up your monologue, you meet Max’s gaze and notice the lingering sadness in his eyes. 

“What’s wrong?” You asked concerned. 

“I’m just thinking about all the stuff I missed,” he admitted, looking down. “All the stuff I should have been there for. How could you ever forgive me?” 

His eyes glistened, and you thought for a moment before replying.

“Because I want to believe that the Max of the past is still there,” you said softly. “You broke me down, but I survived and kept going. As much as it hurt, good came out of it. Maybe we needed time to be away from each other to grow up. I don’t know if I can ever forget what happened, Max, but I can try and forgive.” 

He reached across the table to grab your hand, “I don’t deserve you.”

“You definitely don’t,” you teased, trying to lighten the mood. 

—------------------------------------------------------

The next day, you bundled up in your Bills gear and headed off to meet up with Daniel before the game. He was supposedly at some random person’s tailgate, so you and Max wove through the hoards of people to get to him. Watching Max in this environment was very amusing as it was just another world of people; not a single person had stopped him to ask for a picture. 

“Hey man,” Max greeted Daniel, pulling him into a hug. “Enjoying retirement?” 

“I get to do this now, so of course,” Daniel joked before turning to you. 

“What’s up y/n? It’s been a while,” he said, eyebrows raised, and you knew a million questions were running through his mind. He had been Max’s teammate for a little while back then, so you knew him well. 

“It has,” you agreed. More and more people joined the tailgate, and you could tell Max was getting on edge. 

You were conversing with Scotty and Daniel when you grabbed Max’s hand, pulling him closer to you to ease his discomfort. He took your invitation, sliding behind you with his arms wrapped around your chest, his head resting on the top of yours. Daniel gave him a big smirk, and you rolled your eyes, moving your hands up to hold on to Max’s. 

Max had no idea what was happening during the whole game but he still enjoyed watching you get so excited. The way your face lit up in excitement was something he was committing to memory, hoping he would get that same look from you soon enough. 

After the game, you walked back to your apartment, the city lights twinkling as you strolled through the crisp November air. Max kept your hand firmly in his, his thumb brushing against your knuckles in a way that made your heart race.

Inside, you set your things down, still buzzing from the excitement of the game. Max shrugged off his jacket, glancing around the apartment as though trying to memorize every detail.

He looked over at you, his expression softening. "You know, this place really suits you."

You smiled. "Thanks. It finally feels like home."

There was a pause, a comfortable silence settling between you. Then, he spoke again, his voice laced with a vulnerability you rarely heard from him. "I want you to come to the Netherlands with me for the holidays. I know it’s a lot to ask, but I’d love for you to see my family again and… just, maybe, have you close."

You looked at him, surprised. His gaze was steady, unwavering, but there was a hint of nervousness in his eyes. You could see he was waiting for an answer, for you to trust him again enough to take this step.

“Max…” You hesitated, your mind racing. A part of you was scared of what it would mean to spend Christmas with him and his family—to be a part of his life again. But then you looked at him, really looked at him, and saw the man who had always been there, in some way, over the years.

A smile crept onto your face. “Alright. I’ll come.”

His face lit up in a way you hadn’t seen in a long time. He pulled you into his arms, kissing your forehead softly. "You have no idea how happy that makes me."

You laughed, suddenly feeling warm and at ease. "I guess we’ll see how much Dutch I remember."

As he held you close, you knew that whatever lay ahead, you were ready to see where this new chapter with him would lead.

[all444miles]

— VAMP LOVE

— paring: e42!miles x fem!reader

— genre: fluff

— summary: halloween was just across the block, so why not start early and practice makeup on your boyfriend?

— a/n: YO WE SO CLOSE TO 1K AHH?? ilyasm ty !! also can we just imagine miles 42 w vamp makeup n blond braids/barrel braids for a sec.. 🤭🤭 this is kinda short bc im so sleepy but mostly this drabble is a bday gift to my pookie bestie aizie, so as long as she enjoys it idc + i hope you enjoy this when ya read it ! mwah, enjoyyy (*≧▽≦)

“MILES, QUIT MOVIN’, YOU’LL MESS UP THE FACE PAINT.”

it was the first day of october, and halloween wasn’t too far away, by your standards. And of course, a carti lover like yourself, decided to have a vamp theme. It just so happened that Miles suited that theme perfectly.

And that’s why you were on your boyfriend’s lap, makeup supplies on your counter, carefully applying black eyeliner around his eyes, Long Time Intro by Playboi Carti playing through the speakers placed in the corner of your room.

“I gotta blink, amor. Plus I cant really keep a straight face if you got your eyes on me like that.” he protested, trying his best to keep a straight face. “How do I look so far?”

“Trust the process, Miles! You look good, just lemme finish this oneee part then I’m done.” there wasn’t one part left. For you, you wanted to make sure everything looked right. Your lover, Miles, on the other hand, was eager to see the outcome. He just didn’t realise how tedious it was.

“Maa, ¿lo hiciste? He estado sentado en esta silla durante años, lo juro.” (Maa, you done? I’ve been sitting on this chair for ages, I swear.) Miles asked, practically almost falling asleep because of how slow you were doing his makeup.

You chuckled. “Miles, you’re so impatient, beauty takes timeee. I’m almost done, for real.”

After 5 minutes, you were actually done. You got off his lap, giddily grabbing a mirror to show him the result of your hard work. “It’s done! Do you like it?”

Miles looked into the mirror, turning to his side to see how it looked from different angles. A small smile grew on his face, “Wow, princesa, this looks fire. I love it, that long ass wait was worth it.”

You grinned at his compliment, pulling out your phone to take a picture of him so you could look at it later. Miles was not a fan of pictures, but for this occasion, he didn’t mind all too much. He walked closer to and gave you a kiss a the forehead, the stain leaving a mark.

“Do i gotta take this off? Because I kind of wanna keep this on.”

“Keep it on! I need to remember this moment for as long as possible.”

“You just think I look fine, don’t you?”

“Absolutely.”

tagslist: @seraaphicss @laaailuh @mayearies @onginlove @laylasbunbunny @arielliio @milesmolasses @missusmorales @thatgirlmiah @paraccosm @tinkerbelle05 @fictarian @zalayni @whitejasmine @444morales @writings-ofthe-heart

© all444miles 2023. do not plagerize, copy, or repost my work in any way shape or form, without my permission.

likes, reblogs, comments and asks are always appreciated !

[facets-and-rainbows]

Update from Kazue Katoh's Twitter

The Blue Exorcist hiatus will be extended for another month (through the November issue)

[Drawing of Katoh apologizing] Sorry for all the delays!

As Blue Exorcist celebrates its 15th anniversary, I'm taking my first ever unplanned three-month break from publishing it. I think it's about time to share more information on the situation with my readers...It's a personal matter but I'd like to tell you.

I was actually diagnosed with an illness at my regular checkup in March, and I've spent the last few months working in between hospital visits.

I've finished surgery, which went well, and I've been discharged for the time being, but I needed extra time for post-op treatment so I'm going to have to extend the hiatus.

It's ended up as a long 3-month wait, and I'm sorry about that!

I'll be keeping my exact diagnosis private for now, but in my case it shouldn't be life-threatening with proper treatment.

I'm currently back to work and feeling good, so don't worry too much!

[Drawing of Katoh in a hospital bed] I actually got excited for my first hospitalization, and my first surgery, and my first general anesthesia, and my first catheter... Maybe it's a manga artist thing. I had my catheter removed by a nurse who apparently reads Blue Exorcist, haha, nothing can scare me anymore (*Catheter=a tube that goes directly in the urethra) (Nurse: Take a deep breath and I'll take it out when you exhale...)

[Drawing of Katoh at the gym] I got back to the gym 3 days after I was discharged from the hospital! They said exercise will be good for my recovery.

The current plan is:

Next month: There will be no Blue Exorcist chapter in the November issue of Jump SQ (which comes out in October), but I'm drawing a new poster for it!

The month after next: Blue Exorcist is scheduled to return in the December issue of Jump SQ (which comes out in November.)

At any rate, I'll be continuing treatment alongside work for a while, so there may be times when that impacts my work and makes you all worry...Apologies in advance! My soul couldn't rest if I died before finishing Blue Exorcist, so I'm hoping to stick around and keep drawing it while I continue my treatment.

All this has just been spurring on my inconsistency as an author, but I hope you'll stick with Blue Exorcist going forward!

Kazue Katoh, Sept 4, 2024

[Drawing of Katoh making a determined little fist] And take care of yourselves too! Get your annual checkups!