#christmas dove cameron

[amezgrl]

𓈒 ❀ᮬ✿🐇🫙♡̵̼͓ 𝓷𝖾̼𝘄 𝗽︧︨𝗼𝘀𝐭 🍶🏸 ꯭᯽ ּ 𝅄 𝚣 ᶻ z 𝒍𝗂𝗄𝗲ີ & 𝗿𝗲𝖻𝗅𝗈︠︡𝗀 ৎ ۟ ☆𓂂 ▒❜៳ 𐌼᥆ᩨ᥆ᩨ𖩝𝕓. ೃ⠁🐚🍴 ⃟𝔀.𝗈𝗎𝘁 Ꮘ᥍̫ᩚ𝗱 ִ ໑ ⁔⁔ 𝖺𝗆︭ᦕᩨ𝒛𝗴𝗿𝗹 ♥︎ ˚⁎◌ ❊] 🫧

[priscillapresblog]

i wanna be this pretttyyyyyyyy urrgggg

[goodnightndove]

dove cameron christmas twitter packs

like if saved or used pls

headers ©️luminities

[singularlayouts]

Dove Cameron x Taylor Swift Christmas Layout

Reblog / Like if you save or use it

Please give credit on our Twitter/X

[lanasfav444]

merry xmas 🤍💋

[polarxsfrost]

CHRISTMAS TIME PART 2 🎄✨️

ꗃ  ݁ .えていく ִ ۫  ּ Ɲᦾฬ ꛤᝪ꠹ᡫ#*!!៹ ࣪˖⁩ 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝑶𝑹 ℝ𝔼𝔹𝕃𝕆𝔾◞⧗𓂅 ˖ ࣪ ꒷ ᱬ ›𓂅 . ݁ ℂɾⅇᑯᎥᝨ᥉☃️❄️🖇️٬٬ ࣪˓ ˖╲˚ׂᨘ

[feochay]

Suite et fin du calendrier 2023 ! + quelques extras en guise de cadeaux de Noël ! ♡

[keikikait]

ʀᴇʙᴇʟ ꜱᴜɴ (ʀᴀꜰᴇ ᴄᴀᴍᴇʀᴏɴ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ)

this is part three. for part two, click here!

pairing: rafe cameron x pogue!f!reader, (not au, both are early to mid 20s)

word count: 4.5k

summary: rafe brings you breakfast and problems arise

warnings: dead dove, do not eat. stalker!rafe, kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, manipulation. use of the word 'bitch'. rafe is trying but he's still a freak, mention of drugs

a note: i'm so pissed about episode 10 btw

please reblog and like, it means a lot! let me know what you think!

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

Two hundred and eighty-nine days.

You’ve been going through something.

It’s been 289 days since Rafe decided to keep you, to hide you away in his room like a little doll, to keep you on his shelf just for his eyes only. You were so resistant at first, always crying and squirming while he tied you to his bed, always trying to fight back. He tried everything he could think of to calm you down; asking nicely, trying to hold you, pinning you down and covering your mouth. The only thing that ever worked was cocaine, holding you down and rubbing it all over your gums. You were his little druggie, and he was smitten. For a while.

For the past few weeks, Rafe has been slowly trying to ween you off of it. You were getting too addicted, too addicted to something that wasn’t him. As much as he loved you, he didn’t like wasting his cocaine on you just to get you to calm down. He wanted things to be different. He wanted you to enjoy being with him in his big, beautiful house in Figure 8, a far cry from your modest childhood home in The Cut. He didn’t want to hold you here anymore, against your will, he wanted you to willingly be his. Rafe was a strong, powerful, handsome, rich man. Why were you resisting? Is he not good enough for you? Is there something wrong with him? Is he not what you want, what you need?

The cold metal of the handcuffs bite at your skin as you squirm, tied up to the headboard. Although you spent most of your time tied up on your side of the bed, he moved you around a lot; keeping you on the floor underneath his desk as he worked, leaving you on the bathroom floor after you’ve been particularly resistant, and even keeping you under his bed when the police first came knocking after you “disappeared”. People were looking for you, JJ and John B especially, but they would never find you. Rafe would make sure of it. 

He let you up once, watching you with a sharp eye as you padded around his bedroom, stretching your legs out, your arms still bound. You spent your limited time standing in front of the window, looking outside, daydreaming about the day you finally get to go home. You were only free for 10 minutes before Rafe got nervous, picking you up and throwing you on the bed, squishing you with his body weight as you squirmed and wiggled.

Sunlight pours in through the windows, the curtains moving slowly with the fresh spring air. You haven’t been outside since last September, and now as July creeps up, you’re not sure if you’ll ever get out of Rafe’s room. The last 289 days have all felt like a blur, one second it was Halloween, the next second it's Christmas and Rafe is opening your gift for you as you sob, scream, and beg him for mercy. His present to you was a gold necklace spelling out Rafe, as well as a matching gold ring. You screamed and cried and tried to bite him as he put the necklace on, but it didn’t deter Rafe. He jotted all of your misbehaviour down to withdrawals, and he would pack you full of drugs to keep you pliant, satiated, and quiet. He’s never been more happy to not have neighbours. 

His punishment was enough to convince you to keep the necklace on. You spent two days locked in the bathroom, stuck in the bathtub, arms and legs tied behind your back. You sobbed when you saw him, mostly out of relief, and you screamed and begged for him to forgive you. He thought you looked so cute like that, your eyes red, tears streaming down your cheeks, and he forgave you very easily. 

The door softly opens as Rafe steps through, carrying a TV tray packed full of breakfast. Rafe wasn’t the best cook, but he was trying to learn, just for you. After all, he couldn’t hire a private chef if his unwilling girlfriend was tied up upstairs. He smiles at you, carrying the tray over and setting it down on his side of the bed, smoothing down the duvet. “Mornin’, angel. You hungry?”

“Fuck off.” You say, shooting him a glare before looking away from him. 

Oh, he hates when you do this. When you glare at him like he’s the worst person alive. When you keep silent, refusing to even look at him. It drives him crazy. Why doesn’t his angel love him, why doesn’t his angel want him? What is he doing wrong? He sighs, giving you a disapproving look. “That wasn’t very polite, angel, and I was trying to do something nice for you.” He takes a seat on the bed, grabbing the tray and setting it in between the two of you.

“I’m not hungry.” You say, although it’s a lie. You rejected his lunch and dinner offerings the night before, and the French toast in front of you smelled so fucking good.

He lets out a breathy laugh. “Now, don’t lie to me, baby. I know you’re hungry. I know you’ve been starving yourself, tryna prove you’re all big and strong, but I’m not gonna let you do that.” He pushes the tray closer to you. “Aren’t you tired of being all stubborn and difficult? I just want to take care of you.”

“I want to go home, Rafe.” You say.

“You are home, baby.” He says, his eyes hard, although there was some hurt behind his tone. He hated your constant cries to go home, hated hearing you ask for the outside world when all he wanted was to keep you here, to keep you safe and to keep you his. “Why do you want to leave so badly? You’ll be safer here, you don’t have to worry about anything ever again.” In Rafe’s eyes, he saved you, and he wanted you to save your soul for the devil in him.

“You can’t just kidnap me and expect me to be okay with it!” You say, your voice wavering as you start to cry again. “I won’t cling to you like some love-blind addict.”

His eyes soften a little when you cry, his heart beating a little bit faster at the look on your face. God, he just wanted you to love him. He didn’t know why he was being so stubborn, why he couldn’t just force you like he normally would. He bites his tongue, trying not to say anything too harsh. “I don’t want you to cling to me like some love-blind addict. I want you to love me because you want to, not because you have to.”

“You can’t kidnap me and expect me to be okay with it.” You say again.

“Well, I have, and you’re still here, aren’t you?” He says, his jaw tight, trying to keep himself calm. “I’ve been nothing but nice to you, but you’re still not happy. What else do you want from me, angel?”

“I just want to go home!” You say, tears starting to stream down your cheeks.

He scoffs, his words coming out harsh and fast. He’s starting to get annoyed with your attitude. “You are home, you selfish little brat. I’m trying to keep you safe, all I do is try to protect you, and you keep acting like this, like I’m the bad guy!” Rafe scoots closer to you on the bed, putting the TV tray closer to your legs. “Now, you’re going to eat your breakfast like a good little bitch, and then you’re going to thank me after. Are we clear?”

You hesitate, sniffling as the tears travel down your cheeks onto your neck. He sighs watching you cry. God, he hated seeing you cry. He hated how desperate you looked, how beautiful you looked. He was just trying to keep you safe and happy, trying to keep you his. He reaches up towards you, grabbing you by the chin and forcing you to look at him. “I asked you a question, angel. Are. We. Clear?”

You nod. You were starving, and Rafe was even nice enough to bring you your favourite coffee. You should just say yes and try to get on his good side. “Yeah. We’re clear.”

Rafe’s eyes soften when you agree, finally giving in. He liked it when you listened to him, when you were calm and sweet and obedient. He brushes under your eyes with his thumb, wiping away some of the tears. He doesn’t miss how beautiful you look when you cry. “Good girl.” he murmurs, leaning forward and kissing your forehead. You always look your prettiest when you’re obedient. 

You hate the way it makes your heart flutter. Shame is sharp, and your skin gives in so easily.

He uncuffs your ankles, letting you sit up and get comfortable. Well, as comfortable as you could be. Your arms were still being painfully yanked, tied up onto the headboard, but at least you weren’t laying down anymore. “Now, are you gonna be a good girl and eat your breakfast?” He asks, glancing down at the food. 

You nod, trying to get more comfortable. He watches as you shift and squirm, biting the inside of his cheek. He hated that you were still tied up. He hated having you like this. He wanted you to be free, to walk around, to be able to do what you want to do, but he didn’t trust you not to run away yet. He didn’t want to keep you tied up forever. Rafe sighs, taking the mug of coffee and handing it to you. “Here, baby, drink some coffee first.”

You carefully take a sip, trying to not burn your mouth. He smiles a little, watching you sip on your coffee happily. You’re doing so good so far this morning. Not so much crying, no screaming, no begging, just a little hiccup in the beginning. He liked this; liked seeing you docile and quiet. “Good?” He asks, tilting his head at you.

You nod, licking your lips. You were a bit surprised that Rafe remembered your coffee order. “Yeah. Really good. Thank you.”

He’s a bit shocked when you thank him, his heart hammering a little bit faster and his chest warming. “Yeah? You’re welcome, angel,” He feels himself smile, his hand twitching a little, wanting to reach out and caress your cheek, touch your hair. He forces himself to stay where he is. You take another sip of the coffee. He continues to watch you, feeling his chest warm again. He was always a bit thrown off whenever you thanked him, because it didn’t happen often. That was his fault, he knew that. He was always taking you against your will, having to force you into things. “Keep drinking your coffee, baby.” He says softly, wanting to keep you calm and quiet.

You finish the coffee and Rafe sets the mug aside on your bedside table. He shifts around, sitting cross-legged as he cuts up a piece of French toast. Your mouth waters as you sit up straighter. “Did you use the--”

“The brown sugar maple syrup?” He smirks. “Yes, angel, I did,” He stabs a piece with the fork before bringing it up to your mouth, one hand cupped underneath to catch any crumbs. “Say ahh.”

You eagerly open your mouth, closing your lips around the fork and pulling the piece into your mouth. It’s delicious, and you lean your head back against the headboard as you chew, eyes closed.

He feels his heart skip a beat when you lean your head back. God, you looked so perfect. So goddamn pretty. He could stare at you forever. “Good?” He asks, his gaze lingering on your throat as you swallow. He wanted to bite you, mark you up as his. But he had to be patient. You didn’t fully trust him yet, and he was eager to break you.

You nod, opening your eyes. “Really good.”

He smiles, leaning forward and wiping a little maple syrup off your lips. He lets his hand linger on your face, his thumb brushing over your lower lip. He wanted nothing more than to lean forward and kiss you, but he didn’t want to ruin this. He didn’t want to ruin how good you were being. “Good. I’m glad you like it, angel,” He moves his attention to the small ramekin of fruit, stabbing a couple pieces. “Alright. This one next.”

You accept the fruit, eyeing up the rest of the TV tray. You swallow, shifting again. “You didn’t have to do all of this for me, Rafe.”

He knows he didn’t have to. He knows that he could’ve just given you shitty breakfast sausages and an apple and called it a day, but he wanted to make you feel good, wanted to make you trust him more. He hated that the only time you were sweet and quiet was when you were hopped up on drugs. He wanted you sweet and quiet without the drugs, he wanted you to love him the way he loved you. “I know I didn’t have to, angel. I just wanted to.”

You eat some more of the fruit. “Well… thank you.”

He feels himself smile again, your quiet gratitude still throwing him a bit off kilter. Why did you have to be so goddamn cute, making him feel all soft? He could imagine what it would be like if you were willingly with him, letting him dote on you the way he wanted. He would cook you food every morning, give you gifts, hold you in his arms every night. It would be so perfect, if only you would just be a good girl and submit. “You’re welcome, baby.”

You finish the rest of your breakfast in silence, leaning into his hand as he wipes your mouth for you. You shouldn’t be doing this, willing leaning towards your stalker, but… you can’t deny how nice it feels for him to be kind to you. For him to not be screaming at you, holding you down while you cry, drugging you into submission. But if you wanted to get out, you had to play the long game. You had to get him to trust you enough so he would uncuff you, and then you had to wait for the perfect opportunity to run.

He watches you finish your breakfast, watching you lean into his hand when he wiped your mouth. His gaze lingered on your lips for as long as he could manage, feeling himself want to kiss you. You were doing so good, you were sitting so pretty and being so sweet and quiet. He wanted you like this all the time, wanted you to be his good little girl and obey him all the time. But he knew it would take time, it would take weeks to break you.

Rafe piles the dishes high on the TV tray, setting it aside. You lick your lips, shifting on the bed again. Your arms were killing you, pulled tight behind your back, your shoulders aching. Maybe if you were good, he would uncuff you. You take a deep breath before speaking, “Any plans today?”

He notices your discomfort right away, but he didn’t want to risk untying you when you could run away. But you had been so good this morning, he would hate to ruin it. He glances over at you before standing, the TV tray balancing in his hands. “I have a few meetings with my attorney today, but other than that, I was gonna hang around here.”

You nod. This might be harder than you thought. “Attorney?”

“Yeah,” He tilts his head at you, watching you for a moment. He didn’t want to leave you alone, but he couldn’t exactly have his attorney come over and risk spotting you. “I’ve got some stuff… going on with my dad’s estate and life insurance stuff. I’ve got to talk to the attorney about legal stuff.”

Oh. Right. You remember the day Ward died, how the entire island seemed to come to a screeching halt, rumours starting to spread of the Kook Prince’s breakdown. You had felt bad for him back then, back before he kidnapped you. Now, you didn’t feel as bad, but you needed to lie your way into getting out of his stupid house. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he says. “It’s not your fault. Kinda glad that fucker is gone anyway.” He sighs, picking the TV tray up and standing. “I’ll be out for a few hours, though. Appointments at 3:30.”

You nod, watching as he heads out of the bedroom, stomping down the stairs. You let out a shaky breath. Rafe’s nice guy act was just that, an act, as fake as the lifestyle he lives and the image he portrays. You were being punished, by Rafe and the universe, punished for being stupid and naive enough to think that you were special, that he would treat you any differently than he treats the others. No matter what he said, you knew deep down that he didn’t love you. He just wanted to get you weak, groggy, and docile so he could take off your clothes and hurt you. If you gave in, he would just hurt and abuse you until he got bored. He would tare off chunks of you to eat before you were nothing but bones. 

You hear him moving around downstairs, putting the dishes in the sink before opening the fridge. You wonder what he’s doing, what he’s getting up to when you can’t see him. You can’t help it. You squirm on the bed as you hear him heading up the stairs again, looking over at the door as he enters.

He smiles softly when he sees you, his little bride, his sweet divine. “You’re squirming again, angel.”

“The handcuffs hurt,” You say. 

Rafe sighs, chewing the inside of his cheek. He didn’t want you to run, but he didn’t want you to be uncomfortable. You would have a much harder time submitting to him if your wrists were permanently rubbed raw. He pulls the key off of his neck, looped through an old necklace chain. “Lean forward, baby,” You lean forward, watching him out of the corner of your eye as he unlocks one wrist. He quickly pulls it away from the headboard before reattaching it to your wrist. You were still bound, still his, but he was hoping this would help you finally give in. “There we go. Is that better?”

You nod, relaxing your shoulders. It was still uncomfortable to have your hands behind your back, but this was light-years ahead of being trapped in his bed. “Much better.”

“You didn’t try to run.” He says. 

You didn’t have time to run. “No, I didn’t.”

He tugs you closer to the edge of the bed, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. He presses your face into his chest, kissing the top of your head. “Good girl.” Your head spins. He smells so good, and he’s so warm, and fuck you missed being held. You lean against his chest, burying your face into his sternum. He kisses your head again before stroking your hair, one arm tight around your shoulders.

Rafe opens his mouth to speak when there’s a sudden pounding on the front door. Your breath hitches and your stomach drops. You look at him, at the confusion streaking across his handsome face. “Who is it?”

He clenches his jaw, his hands forming into fists and flexing. He walks over to the window, peeking through the curtain, looking down at the driveway.

Shit.

A Kildare County Sheriff’s Department squad car sits in his driveway, and he watches as two officers climb out, a thick manilla envelope in hand. Fuck. Fuck. “Stay here, baby,” He says, watching you as he walks back towards the door. “Just stay quiet, and I’ll take care of it, okay?”

You watch helplessly as he heads out of the room, stomping down the stairs.

He walks down the stairs, opening the front door to confront the cops. “Officers,” he says smoothly, holding back the dread that was growing in his chest. “How can I help you today?”

The officer on the left, L. Hughes according to his name tag, speaks first. “Mr. Cameron?”

“Yes. That’s me,” He says, forcing a smile on his face as he leans against the door frame. “May I ask what this is about, officer?”

Hughes starts to open the envelope. “We’re just doing some rounds, sir. Handin’ these out,” he pulls out a large stack of 8 by 11s. He takes a sheet off the top and hands it to Rafe. “Do you know this girl?”

Rafe takes the paper before looking down at it. His fingers clench, his grip tightening. It’s a missing flyer for you, your smiling face staring at him. It had all of your info; name, age, height and weight, as well as the day you were last seen in Kildare, September 18th. The bottom of the flyer has the Sheriff’s Department phone number and email. Did Peterkin rat him out?

“No, I uh…” Rafe clears his throat. “Don’t recognise her. Sorry, guys.”

“She’s uh… from The Cut,” The officer on the right, J. Patrick, says. “Do you know anyone down there who’s uh… particularly violent?”

Rafe’s grip tightens. He could easily point them in the direction of JJ and John B, hell, maybe even Pope would go down too. “I mean, a few of ‘em, yeah. They can get pretty aggressive. Thought she’s just missin’, though.”

“We’re hoping that’s the case,” Hughes says. “But you know… it’s been 9 months since she disappeared. People are starting to talk, rumours about this girl gettin’ killed. You sure you don’t recognise her?”

They know something. He’s sure of it. Rafe looks at the flyer again. “Nah, I don’t recognise her. I don’t really get to that side of the island very much.”

“Well, the thing is, Mr. Cameron,” Patrick says. “Is that we got an anonymous tip. They said that they were up here not too long ago, and they saw someone that looked a lot like her in your upstairs window. We’re just here to check it out.”

Rafe’s blood runs cold. What the hell? Peterkin didn’t rat him out, did she? He swallows thickly, clenching his jaw. “Alright, come on in then, but I guarantee you there’s nobody in the house but me.”

Fuck. Fuck. His plan was falling apart right before his eyes. He was just starting to break you down, and now you were going to be ripped away from him. He steps aside and lets the officers in, setting your missing person flyer on the table. He leads them upstairs, hands clenched tightly in a fist, his nails digging into his palms. He didn’t want to lose you, he didn’t want the officers to even see you, his little rebel laying in the sun.

You’re still on the edge of the bed, listening. You stand up when you hear the officers coming, the beeps of their radios sounding so incredibly loud. Your legs shake as you stand in the middle of the room, frozen in place, clad in only one of Rafe’s t-shirts and a pair of panties. 

You could escape. You could get out of here. You could go home, back to your family, back to JJ, John B, and Pope. You would be able to sleep in your own bed, and take a shower without having Rafe holding you, washing your body and hair for you as you cried and sobbed. 

You could be free. 

But you can’t do it. You don’t want to leave Rafe, and you don’t know why. He kidnapped you, kept you full of cocaine and benzos to keep you quiet and asleep your first few months here. He was hurting you, using you as a little pawn in his game. But you didn’t want to leave him. You know you’ll probably regret it, but you couldn’t leave him behind when he looks at you like you’re the only woman in the world for him.

Is he the one? Is he everything you’ve ever wanted?

Will you regret this?

The doorknob twists, and you suddenly crawl under the bed, the bed skirt cascading down the side to cover you.

The officers look around the room. Hughes takes a few glances around, Patrick’s back facing where you are, hiding underneath the bed. They look everywhere but underneath the bed, and Rafe’s heart pounds in his chest, blood rushing in his ears. Why were they here? Why were they doing this?

Rafe had to stay calm. He can’t lose you, he can’t. “See? Told you, it’s just me here.”

“Alright,” Hughes sighs. “Guess it was just a mistake. Sorry for the interruption, Mr. Cameron.” Their voices fade as they leave the room, and you lay under the bed, paralysed with fear. But was it because of Rafe, or because of the officers?

He walks them downstairs, saying goodbye before shutting and locking the door. He quickly heads back upstairs, watching through the window as the squad car drives away. He looks out the window again before walking over to the bed, kneeling down. “Come out, angel.” 

He lifts the bed skirt as you crawl out, body shaking. “Are they gone?”

He reaches out, grabbing your shoulders and hoisting you up. “Yeah. They’re gone, baby.” He sighs, cupping your face. “You did so good hiding like that.”

You lean into his calloused palms. “Thank you.”

He feels his heart flutter when you lean into his hands, his fingers tracing over the smooth skin of your cheek and jaw. “You’re such a good girl, angel. I’m so proud of you.” He pulls you close, kissing your forehead.

You let out a shaky breath. “I don’t think I wanna leave.”

Those words almost stop his heart, tears welling in his eyes. He’s wanted this, for you to admit that you wanted to stay with him, that you were just as desperate for him as he was for you. “You-You want to stay?” He can’t help how small his voice sounds, the vulnerability leaking out of it.

You nod, burying your face in his shoulder.

He’s speechless, so shocked that this is actually happening, that he’s finally got what he’s been wanting this whole time. He doesn’t hesitate to snake his arms around you, holding you close and burying his face in your hair, his breathing shaky. “You’re serious, angel? You don’t want to leave? You want to stay with me?”

You nod again. “Yeah, Rafey.”

He loves when you call him that, a whine of pleasure building in his throat. He nuzzles his face in your neck, kissing you sweetly. “Oh god, baby. You can’t imagine how happy that makes me. Thank you, baby, thank you so much. I’ve been trying so hard for so long, thank you.” He murmurs against your skin, his heart feeling light and happy, like he could finally breathe.

You knew you were betting on a losing dog. You would never make it out of this house, but maybe you could live with that.

Rafe would always find you anyway.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

this will be the last part, but i have more rafe fics on the way!

★taglist: @ietss, @momoewn, @blairsblg, @teenwolfbitches28, @dasia21, @drewsphswife, @gilwm, @watchmerora, @odairtrqsh, @wearemadeofstardust0, @rafesbabygirlx, @slumnit, @babygirlwilly, @rafeyswife, @magicalflowerstranger (italics means i couldn’t tag you!)

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[jallerentrags]

Better than him.

James Potter x Reader, based on 'Boyfriend' by Dove Cameron.

James Potter thought of himself as a lucky man.

He had everything he wanted: Good grades, good friends, a good life. The only thing he wanted, which he worried he might never have, was you.

Y/n Cassiopeia Black, twin sister to the elusive and handsome Regulus Black. But despite being at the same school, and being best mates with your older brother, the space between the both of you was almost impossible to cross. You were cold and indifferent - sticking with your friends and Regulus - and avoided James like the plague. You rarely spoke, supposedly scorned by his theft of your older brother, and when you did converse, it was usually under the watchful eyes of Charles Nott, your betrothed.

At the age of 16, you had been auctioned and sold to the highest bidder, wrapped in his vice like grip. James watched from the side-lines as the eyes that used to shine like her brother's name-sake, faded.

He had tried to become besotted with Lily, a beautiful and intelligent girl, but it was futile. Your power over him was strong, his urge to move on with Lily too weak. But a strong friendship between the Head Boy and Girl did blossom, so James ended up ranting to Lily about his situation.

“James I don’t know what to say. Y/n is one of the most prized girls in school and her circle is small. Your best bet to get her attention is to ask Sirius to introduce you,” Lily paused to brush her long hair out of her eyes and behind her shoulder with a thoughtful look, “Of course, that’s if she’s willing to speak to Sirius, I don’t think I’ve seen them together since last year.”

James sighed. He already knew that you had closed yourself off after losing your brother, and he grimaced thinking about how hurt you must feel. He knew that Sirius was still mourning his loss as heir to the House of Black, and heard him crying at night when his ache for his little siblings grew too heavy.

“I know,” James fiddled with his glasses, face heating up. “Maybe it’s best if I just leave it. It’s a pipe dream that a girl like that would ever go for a guy like me.” James moved to pick up his books from the library table and head to his dorm, mood low. Lily gasped and slapped his hand away.

“Definitely not! I remember Remus telling me that you two were completely smitten and oblivious to it despite belonging to rival houses. The James Potter should definitely not give up this easily,” Lily’s brows were lowered in an expression of seriousness, her lips thin, “I’ve got an idea. You know the Christmas Ball is this weekend?”

Of course James knew the Christmas Ball was this weekend. The whole school had been preparing for it since it was announced early November, a night of bliss and relaxation to temporarily ignore the deteriorating state of the outside World. James’ parents had already sent him his dress robes, and he saw that last Tuesday you had received a large parcel in the mail which he guessed must of been your dress.

“Yes, but I don’t see why that matters? She’ll be going with Charles. He proposed in August.” James spat, anger lacing into his words. Lily merely rolled her eyes and huffed.

“So? Steal her away! Ask her to dance and charm her! I’m sure it won’t be that difficult, it’s not as if she’s in love with Nott,” Lily placed her hands on the table and leaned towards him, “She’ll definitely leave him for you, she’s always been sympathetic towards muggle-born’s and I heard her talking about how she wishes she didn’t have to marry Nott. Give her a reason, Be her reason, and she’ll leave her supremacist family and be with you.” James scoffed and leaned back in his chair, watching as Lily reclined also.

“I don’t think it’ll be that easy. She loves Regulus and she fits the role as ‘Slytherin’s Princess’ perfectly. I don’t want to put myself out there for her if she’s already too far gone.”

“Believe me. She’s not. People don’t look at each other like you two do.” Lily smiled at him, certainty blazing in her emerald eyes, “You could be her new beginning, and I really think she wants that. She loves Regulus and she always will, but I know that he would value her happiness and I doubt that she wouldn’t love to have a reason to escape,” Lily’s hand reached over to James’ and clasped it, “I really believe that you two would work. I want to see you happy James, please trust me.”

James’ lips formed a smile, and he felt hope blare in his chest. If Lily, the smartest girl he knew, believed that he stood a chance, then he had faith. He squeezed her hand and stood up, collecting his books and shoving them into his bag.

“I trust you, now watch me get my girl.”

————————————————————————-

The Great Hall looked beautiful, you thought, as you entered. The ceiling showcased a clear starry sky, and the decorations shone and sparkled in the candle light. Ice sculptures decorated the corners, and 12 great circle tables surrounded a square dance floor and far off, adjacent the teachers table, was a long buffet and drinks table laden with Honeydukes delights and crisp pumpkin juice. Charles, your financeé, gripped your hand tighter and dragged you to a table with his friends, only slightly admitting how beautiful you looked in your F/c gown. Charles' friends briefly acknowledged you (with a few appreciative eyebrow raises) before ignoring your presence entirely. Across the room, you spotted your older brother and his friends, who hadn't seemed to notice your entrance just yet. Sirius looked remarkable like always, a classic example of the Black families striking looks. Even Remus looked quite handsome in his robes, and Peter had cleaned up nicely. Admittedly, you thought, James looked incredibly good in his robes and had caught your eye as soon as you entered the Great Hall. His robes were tailored to his fit physique perfectly, and his hazel eyes shone with excitement. Although he hadn't managed to tame his hair, you secretly appreciated how well it framed his face.

"Admiring the blood traitor, Y/n?" Rosier, one of Charles' close friends, scoffed. You turned back to the table, missing James' look your way, and shot a smile in Rosier's direction.

"Of course not," you replied, entangling your arm from Charles' grip, "But you have to admit that he does look very enjoyable in his robes." you smirked, watching as Charles' face contorted into a sneer. He made to grab for you, already muttering about your incompetence with an extremely angry look on his face. He wrapped his hand around your arm hard, pulling you close enough to whisper in your ear. Despite being pulled into his side, his body still angled away from you, like you didn't matter at all. From across the hall, you wondered whether it looked like it was a lover's embrace. It was anything but. You spared no love for Charles, and it was no secret. Rosier and the others all sniggered, slurs tumbling from their lips and their faces a mixture of disgust and outrage.

"Y/n, you should watch your mouth. You don't want people thinking that you agree with your mutt of a brother, do you?" Charles asked, his face settling into a blank stare. Your brows lowered and your lips curled, before quickly schooling features once more. You simply hummed, avoiding Charles' eyes. "Now run along to Regulus. I'll come to you when I need you." He unwrapped his hand from your arm and pushed you away, before turning back to his group. You wondered through Hall, greeting friends, before making a bee-line for your twin. The dancing had begun, a light tempo that sent couples soaring over the floor. You watched in admiration, the way they held each other, looking into each others eyes like no one else existed, souls mingling and stretching across the floor. You wished you could be swept along the floor, lost in the steps and the feel of your partners hands. The partner you imagined never had the Nott green eyes and cigar scented yellowed palms, he always had the face of your older brother's best friend.

From behind you, you heard somebody cough to catch your attention, and you turned on your heel to come face to face with James Potter, watching his already huge smile grow wider. His hands were in his trouser pockets, his body angled towards you so completely that you couldn't even acknowledge other's brushing up against you.

"I can't believe we're finally alone, I've been trying to catch you since you arrived, you look so beautiful," James revealed, blush drifting across his cheeks, "I almost went back up to the dorm."

"Well that would've been a shame, Potter" you smiled back, easing towards him, "I was hoping to see you on the dance floor."

James laughed, a sound that sent shudders down your spine and took his hand out of his pocket to push up his glasses that had fallen down his nose. "What are the chances? I wanted to see you on the dance floor too," James squared his shoulders and cleared his throat "Everyone's dancing, yet you aren't, somebody that I know is stuck by dance fever frequently, and he's not with you," James leaned forward and smirked, "the Universe must of divined us, little Black, it looks like we're destined to dance together tonight."

You could almost see the thoughts fly across his face as he grabbed your wrist before you could even object, pulling you towards the dance floor. The music had changed to a sweet, mouldable beat, sweeping partners across the floor in unique waltzes and dips. James positioned you on the floor, a large hand leaving a burning touch on you waist and the other slipping into you awaiting hand as you breathlessly laughed. Your hands fit together perfectly, just like his hand rested so perfectly on the curve of your waist. He started leading, smiling down at you as though you placed the stars in the sky, a twinkle in his bespectacled eyes. You followed readily, returning his smile and placing you hand on his shoulder, heat building and spreading under your dress at your close contact.

You were flying, soaring, just two people in a sea of revellers. You didn't slip from his gaze, totally unfettered, lost in him. You never stumbled, never faltered, you recalled every conversation, every lingering glance, every lasting touch, knowing you were utterly enthralled. James looked the same, captivated by your presence, stuck in your energy. You saw the words bubble in him, and your heart soared when he stopped biting his tongue.

"Y/n," he whispered, drawing you closer, his face a picture intimacy, "I could be a better boyfriend than him," you sucked in air, but didn't draw from his arms. James tightened his grip on your hip as you looked deeply into his eyes, "I could do all the shit that he never does," he flared his fingers against your waist, "I'll stay up all night for you, I won't quit. I'm thinking that I'm going to steal you from him," he dropped his head to press against your forehead, your joined hands tight as you still manoeuvred around the floor, "I could be such a gentleman, plus all my clothes would look so good on you." You slowed to a stop, dancers fluttering around you as you ended up at a loss for words, mouth agape and your heart singing. "I could be so much better for you than him."

"James..." you unlaced your joined hands, already missing his touch, as he stared at you desperately. You knew that everything he said was true, and James was nothing if not an honest man. He made you smile, kept you safe, always thought of you as the prettiest girl in the room. You were in love with James Potter, but it wasn't as easy as that. You had to worry about your brother, Regulus, and the future of your family. While your parents were definitely not kind and nurturing, they were all you had. You didn't have James Potter to whisk you away if Sirius didn't allow him too. You wanted James, more than you'd ever want Charles and his prejudice. Your eyes watered, and you suddenly felt lost.

"I don't need to tell you twice all the ways he can't suffice, he wouldn't care about your happiness, or your dancing or your smile," James' unwavering hope warmed you, cocooning you in a safety net when you felt like you were falling from the Astronomy Tower. James wanted to be your new beginning, your second chance. He wanted to cuddle you on cold nights and to show you the beauty of the muggle world and all its secrets, "If I could give you some advice, baby, I'd leave with me tonight." His desperation slipped from his face, replaced with a confident smirk, as if he saw your facade melting, as if he could see you melting in his arms, as if he knew that you were going to choose him, just like you would every single time.

"You'll help me get through it?" you asked, and James immediately knew that you meant the sparking fall out between you and your parents, and the Nott family. James took your face in his hands, love shining in his eyes, before placing a chaste kiss on your forehead.

"I'd give you my heart if you asked, darling, of course I'll help. Besides, what's another Black sibling in my house? if your brother comes I'll have the full set." you shared a laugh, biting back the tears that threatened to spill.

"You'd like that." you said between laughs.

"I'd love it." he answered, leaning back and taking your hand in his once again. He led you back off the dance floor, both of you blushing madly and smiling merrily. Towards the left of the hall, you spotted James' friends watching you both intently, glasses raised. Lily Evans seemed particularly excited, emerald eyes aglow with excitement as she waved enthusiastically and gave James a thumbs up. Sirius and Regulus stood further away, small smiles on their faces as they watched their little sister walk out of the hall with the resident trouble maker. No complaints rose up their throats, just unbridled joy for their sister who finally looked happy. James and Y/n didn't look at anyone else as they left hand in hand, not even at a furious Charles Nott, hands balled in tight fists. They ignored the open mouthed stares and muttered remarks, completely absorbed in each other.

The next day, Charles would arrive at his dorm to an owl waiting by the open window. Tied to his leg was a envelope, and Charles reached for it immediately. Ripping it open, he tore the piece of paper out and dumped its contents on his bed. Gleaming back at his sneering face was the ring he gave Y/n when he proposed, and scribbled on the letter was one sentence:

'I suppose you were right Charles, I do have a taste for blood-traitors.’

- Y/n Black and James Potter

[inkykeiji]

you be my revolver, i got you in my hands

character: choso kamo x fem!reader

genre: curseless!au, smut

notes: eeee first choso piece ever!!! i had such a blast writing this and i wish i could’ve gotten it finished in time for christmas but alas! anyway, please enjoy this and as always please heed the warnings below and stay safe! | title credit: girl like me by dove cameron

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, pseudocest (reader + choso are family friends), age gap, bratty reader, rough sex, minimal prep, teasing, hints of manipulation, hints of dubcon, size kink, pet names

words: 6k

synopsis:

“Maybe you should stop calling me that.” “What? Why?” you pout, blinking up at him, sugared innocence coating your tone. “I thought you wanted me to call you big brother…I thought I was allowed to…”  “Bi-Big brothers don’t do stuff like this with their little sisters—” “Well, it’s a good thing we’re not actually related then, isn’t it, onii-chan.” 

Choso can’t remember the last time he saw you.

You’ve known each other for a long time—so long Choso’s lost count of the years, now, having met you when Yuuji was just a toddler (and you were, too) at the bus stop on Yuuji’s first day of Pre-K, only to discover you lived a mere few houses from each other—but you haven’t seen each other in a long time, too. 

It’s not through fault of either of you; life had gotten in the way, as it has a tendency to do so, had grown busy with intricacies and obligations that demanded time and attention, tangling around you and keeping you apart. 

You had both embarked on university endeavours; him pursuing his PhD, you continuing your undergrad, had both stuffed more and more into your lives—art shows and book readings and music festivals and tropical trips—and lost space for each other in the process.

Choso can’t remember the last time he saw you, but it feels as though no time has passed at all, as it normally does with family—you’re still just as bratty as you’ve always been (some things never change, he guesses; some things you’ll never grow out of, he supposes). 

Family.

Family is not a word he uses lightly, but you and yours had quickly become his and theirs, had quickly become ours, morphing from neighbours to friends to practically kin, members mixing to form something special, a hybrid of some sort, stuck somewhere between long-standing family friends and blood relatives. 

Which is why how you’re acting—how you’ve been acting, this entire winter break—is so undeniably inappropriate. 

And although he’s lost track of the years, everything beginning to blur together, to melt and flow and shift and breathe, he still remembers the day he told you to call him onii-chan. 

That he doesn’t think he’ll ever forget.

Yuuji’s so lucky, you had pouted, kicking at the sandy ground with the toe of your shoe and swaying a little on the swing. He has a big brother. I don’t. I’ve always wished I had one. Sighing, you looked away, fingers tangling in the chain. But I’ll never get one; it’s impossible. 

It’s not impossible, Choso had responded gently, nudging his swing against your own. I’ll be your big brother, if you want. 

And you—well, you had been so incredibly happy, all bright smiles and sunshine eyes and breathless giggles, to have a big brother to call your own.

Never in his life did he think he’d come to regret such a decision.

But you seem to be on a mission to make him, this Christmas.

Because you’re really testing his fucking patience, this Christmas.

The term of endearment oozes from your lips as if it’s melted in the wet heat of your mouth every single time, always paired with your worst behaviour: bending over in those short, sweet, slutty skirts and flashing cute Christmas panties at him; placing a hand much too high to be appropriate on his thigh as you watch a film together, leaning close to his ear to murmur out a silky question you already know the answer to; twining your ankles with his beneath the dinner table and gazing at him with eyes full of sin, leaning so far forward on the table that your tits swell, nearly spilling from the too-low neckline of your dress, then giggling when you catch him ogling. 

As a result, he’s been meticulous about avoiding being alone in a room with you—he doesn’t trust himself, doesn’t trust what he might do, especially if you start playing your little games—but he should’ve known it would only be a matter of time until you get want you want. 

Because it always is. 

And on Christmas Eve, you finally succeed. 

Somehow, you’ve managed to get him alone in his childhood bedroom—something about wanting to flip through his old sketchbooks, to search for some doodles he had drawn for you many years ago, to rip the pages from the spiral-bound spine and stuff them in your back pocket, for safekeeping, you had claimed. 

Tugging at his heartstrings, that’s how you succeeded. 

Sitting on the edge of his small twin bed, thighs slotted up against one another and both of your arms looped around one of his, he flips through the curling pages of his drawings, smudged with graphite and pastels. 

“Oh, I remember this one!” 

A dainty finger points to a cute kitten sketched out in astonishing detail, with a pink nose and a satin ribbon tied in a bow around its neck. 

“It’s you,” he smirks. “You asked me what animal you’d be, and then demanded I draw you as a kitten when I responded with a cat.” 

“You drew a lot of me,” you lean forward, swelling breasts pressed flush to his bicep, a palm sitting high on his thigh as avid eyes scan over the spread, gaze stuttering as it sweeps from doodle to doodle. 

“I drew a lot for you,” he says, the observation entirely unthinking. “You wanted a specific page, but I might as well give you this whole sketchbook. More than half the pieces in here are for you.” 

It’s a fact that shocks him in its authenticity, a realization that sends a painful, sick thrill searing through his body, saliva beginning to collect in the dips beneath his tongue.

“I’m such a lucky girl,” you hum out in a sigh, nuzzling your cheek into his arm and looking up at him with shimmering eyes. “I have such a good big brother.” 

“You’re spoiled,” he says, but his voice holds no malice, eyes softening as he stares down at you, a small smile on his lips. 

“I dunno about that,” you frown, but mischief glints in your eye. “You haven’t really given me what I’ve wanted all holiday…” 

Blood turns to shards of ice in his veins, whole body going rigid as his breath stalls in his throat, pounding heartbeat reverberating in his ears. 

“Wh-What’s that?”

He doesn’t want to ask it, doesn’t mean to ask it, but the question claws at his tongue, pries past his teeth and tumbles from his lips in a ragged, tangled heap.

And the smile that spreads across your face is nothing short of sinister, that glint flaring to a sharp shine as your pupils breathe, pulse, swallow him whole. 

“A Christmas kiss,” you say, stare unblinking and intense as your hand slips between his legs, rubbing little circles into his inner thigh, a mere centimetre or two away from his cock. 

The motion makes him jolt, hips involuntarily twitching toward your touch, brushing his half-hard cock against your knuckles.

“That’s all I want,” you sigh almost dreamily, tits pressed harder into his bicep as you lean closer, so tight they’re practically being squeezed from your sweetheart neckline. “A kiss from my onii-chan. Though…” 

Trailing off, your hand slides up a little further, pinky and ring finger tiptoeing along the rapidly hardening lump in his jeans, squealing out a short giggle as it jumps beneath your touch.

“I’m not sure that’s all onii-chan wants.”

“Onii-chan doesn’t want anything from you,” he breathes out, but his voice is rough, unconvincing, his hands curled into firm fists on his bedspread, trembling slightly, skin stretched taut across pointed knuckles.

“Another lie,” your lips tug down, voice saturated with disappointment. “You know, good big brothers don’t lie to their siblings,” you fix him with a look, glaring through feathery lashes, expression teetering dangerously on the edges of a pout.

A shiver skitters through his bones, whole body stiffening. His jaw flexes as he grinds his molars, a slow, controlled breath exhaled out his nose, his eyes flicking down. You’re still touching him, two fingertips rubbing gentle circles into his clothed cock.

“Maybe you should stop calling me that.”

“What? Why?” you pout, blinking up at him, sugared innocence coating your tone. “I thought you wanted me to call you big brother…I thought I was allowed to…” 

“Bi-Big brothers don’t do stuff like this with their little sisters—”

“Well, it’s a good thing we’re not actually related then, isn’t it, onii-chan.” 

“That—That—” he swallows hard, dense saliva pooling at the back of his tongue. “That doesn’t matter—We shouldn’t—”

“But—” your lip juts out further, forehead crinkling. “But I want to.” 

You can’t always get what you want. 

That’s what he wants to tell you. That’s what he wishes he could tell you. But it just isn’t fucking true, when it comes to you. 

“Stop,” he says instead, and although it’s supposed to be an order, it comes out as a plead, his voice hoarse, strained, thin, the proclamation high and false and tinny. 

“You’re a terrible liar,” the tip of your index finger traces the head, looking up at him through your lashes. “Did you know that?” 

He does, he does know that. He’s a terrible liar, eyes too honest, voice too sincere, expressions too candid, always giving away his true intentions and forthright thoughts.

He’s a terrible discipliner, too, incapable of saying no, of refusing his siblings anything. You know this, too. 

“St—” he tries to force the word from his tongue again, protest sticking in his throat. Stop, stop, he wants you to stop, he needs you to stop, please. 

But that’s a lie, too, the rejection refusing to take shape, to mold into something audible, something tangible, something worthwhile. 

No matter how much he wishes it were true, he can’t will it to become true—not when he wants this just as badly as you do, his straining cock exposing his real desires to you.

You’ve already taken full notice of it, yearning for you through rough denim, hot and hard and throbbing. The pad of your finger rubs over the slit in rhythmic motions, smooth and gliding, aided by the copious amount of pre-cum oozing through the material, and it jerks beneath your touch, eager for more attention. 

“It’s so hard, onii-chan,” your hand cups the impressive bulge, rolling it in your palm, a girlish giggle tickling your tongue. “It—It’s throbbing, onii-chan.” 

“Yeah? And who’s fault is that?” he breathes, attempting to keep his tone stern and his eyes stony. 

“It’s making me want to ride it,” you whimper loudly, squeezing your thighs together, completely ignoring his question. “Oh, please, onii-chan, can I ride your cock?” 

“Fu-fuck,” the curse breaks on his tongue, eyes shut tightly, breaking away from your invasive stare. “Fuck, fuck, f-fuck.” 

No. 

“I’d really like to ride it, onii-chan.”

No. 

“Can I? Pretty please?”

No-no-no-no-no! 

He wants to say no. He should say no. It’s the right thing to do. 

He’s the older brother, the eldest brother, it’s his duty to say no, to mentor, to lead by example. 

But he can’t. 

He can’t form the word in his throat, can’t mold it into a sound and push it from his mouth. 

He’s never truly been able to, when it comes to you—and he was so fucking stupid to think he would.

Because, as always, you are making it exceptionally difficult to deny, gazing up at him with shimmering eyes like that, mouth licked raw in anticipation, bottom lip bitten puffy from the front teeth constantly sinking into it.

“I—It isn’t right—” he attempts, swallowing thickly, cords in his neck straining, desperately attempting to quell the tremor in his voice.

He knows you don’t care. If he’s being entirely honest with himself, he doesn’t, either, his morality eroded to nothing more than a farce, a thin façade, not nearly strong enough to force him into doing the right thing, not nearly strong enough to fortify his rapidly waning self-discipline.

“I—I won’t tell,” you whimper, and he can see the fine film of tears lacquering your eyes, shielding lust-blown pupils. “Pinky promise! I just—I just want you so badly,” your nose twitches cutely with a sniffle, your bottom lip beginning to waver with infinitesimal quivers, soft palm caressing his cock like you love it. “Please, onii-chan?”

And Christ, you’re so pretty, so pouty, with your glistening puppy-dog eyes and pleads dripping from your lips like thick syrup. 

How could he possibly say no to something so precious? How could anyone?

“Alright,” he whispers, defeated, eyes squeezing shut as he nods. “If it’ll make you happy.”

“Really?”

And just like that, the tears are incinerated from your eyes, gaze bright and blazing with excitement, lips molded into a brilliant smile. 

You look so sickeningly beautiful when you get what you want. 

“Yes,” he nearly whimpers, and it’s pathetic, his hips twitching up into your touch, craving, desperate. “Yes, yes, ride my cock.” 

The affirmative is all you need, squealing a little with happiness as you climb into his lap, fingers up your own skirt to push your soaked panties to the side, other hand pawing clumsily at his waistband.

“Thank you,” you breathe, the words soaking into his neck, sealed with a sloppy kiss. “Oh, thank you, onii-chan.” 

He can’t help but chuckle a little as his hands find your waist, instinctive, steadying you. 

“Eager little thing, aren’t you.”

“This is all I want,” you tell him, pulling back a little to search his face. “S’all I’ve wanted for a long time.” 

He wants to ask you to elaborate on that, confusion warping his brow, but then you’re yanking at his belt loops and pulling at his zipper and wrapping a soft palm around the base of his cock, a heavy groan vibrating in his throat. 

“Wait, wait!” he chokes on a gasp as you hover over his cock, head bumping against your hole. “Let me—”

“I don’t wanna wait,” you whine out, petulant and stringy, whole face scrunched in frustration. “I’ve been waiting! I want your cock in me now!”

Fuck, you’re such a fucking brat, he’s growling as he forces you down on his cock in one swift motion, the sudden intrusion pushing a yelp from your lips. Your forehead knocks against his, sugar-stained breath wafting across his face, his tongue darting out to mop up remnants from his mouth. 

It’s really cute, the way your little cunt spasms around his shaft as he bottoms out, pressed snug and tight against your cervix, desperate in its attempt to adjust to his girth. It’s really sweet, the way your body splits itself open for him, cracking at the core and struggling to swallow him down.

“Oh, it’s so big, onii-chan!” 

“God,” he nearly sobs. “You’re gonna be the fuckin’ death of me, y’know that?” 

Giggling, you wind your arms around his neck tighter, nuzzling your cheek into his skin, then stringing a garland of wet kisses along the line of his jaw. 

“S’really thick, Choso-nii,” you tell him honestly, nodding in lethargic little motions. “I feel so full, onii-chan.” 

A laugh falls from his lips, breathy and exalted. 

“I don’t know if it’s that I’m big, or if it’s just that your cunt is so fucking small,” his voice tapers off into a whine, raspy and gruff. 

“H-Hurts a little, onii-chan,” you admit in a whimper, hips shifting in experimental little movements, conjuring a groan from deep within his chest. 

“Yeah? And who’s fault is that, huh?” he asks for the second time in fifteen minutes. “Who was too impatient to let onii-chan prep her?”

“Don’t care,” you mumble. “Wanted you s’bad.” 

He laughs again, warm and gentle and full of love, his hands squeezing your hips just enough to make you gasp, fingertips pressing his name into your flesh in blotchy little ovals of purple. 

“You have me,” he says, his words ringing clear and true with a painful sincerity. 

The vibrations of your responding hum seep from your chest into his, and he sighs, body deflating against yours, pleasant little tingles snuggling between his ribs. 

You stay like that for a moment to two, wound up in one another, chests pressed flush, breathing as one. Your auras ebb and flow, presences bleeding, tangling together and creating something that is neither one nor the other but both, a single shared entity. 

And it’s nice, it’s real, it’s natural.

But then you become impatient, as you normally do, as he knew you would, wiggling a little in his lap, fingers twining in the strands at the base of his neck. 

“Go on, sweetheart,” he urges gently. “Ride onii-chan’s cock.” 

And so you do, hips beginning to roll in slow, languid circles, fingers still laced at the back of his skull, half-buried in messy ink.

He allows you to set the pace, allows you to take your time, allows you to enjoy and savour every rock and grind and bounce, staring at you through heavily lidded eyes, hands on your waist merely guiding you—keeping you stable, just like a big brother should. 

He’s absolutely breathtaking; gaze glittering in the dim light overflowing with awe, spit-slicked lips licked raw and shimmering as his tongue glides over them again, swollen and bitten cherry red.

You can’t help but reach out to trace his features; the strong line of his brow, the delicate curve of his cheek, the enticing bow of his lips, hips slowing to uneven little ruts as you hone your focus, his eyes observing you with a sick sort of fascination.

“Did you—Have you—Have you thought about this before?” 

The question stings his tongue, revulsion flushing through his blood as guilt pricks his flesh, his cock throbbing eagerly.

“Course I have,” you breathe out with a little laugh, as if he’s so silly for thinking you might not have. “Actually, I—I—”

A sudden shyness overtakes you, an unsure giggle on your lips fading into a soft squeal as you hide in his shoulder, shaking your head a little. 

“What? Huh?” he shrugs, nudging your face up gently, curiosity clawing at his irises as they search your face, voracious. “What?” 

“Well, sometimes I…” 

The words tangle in your throat and you choke on them, gaze fleeing his own, and you shake your head again, chest beginning to stammer.

“It’s okay,” he says softly, rubbing reassuring circles into your flesh. “You can tell onii-chan, go on.” 

There are tears in your eyes now, mouth wobbling a little with the verging confession, and God, that’s so hot, why is that so fucking hot? 

“Where’s my brave little sister gone now? Hmm?”

“M’right here, onii-chan,” you whisper, face teetering on a wince, as if you’re bracing for a blow, terrified to admit to him, fearing reprimand. “It’s just that—Sometimes I do, um, really bad things with my stuffies while—while thinking about you…” 

Dewdrops of shame glitter in your lashes as your lids flutter, nose scrunching with a soft sniffle, tears breaking free of their wispy confines to roll down your cheeks in fat, glimmering streams—so fucking beautiful in the dim light of his bedroom—but you don’t dare break his stare, gazing at him through a thick shield of water. 

“Oh, Christ,” he coughs on the curse, hands flexing on your waist, blunt nails digging into your skin. “And what—what do you think about?” 

“Um,” your gaze flits from his own, to his wrinkled bedspread, then back to his face, wide and honest. “Riding you, like this. And—And riding your thighs, makin’ a real mess all over them, and your thick fingers too, filling me up…” 

Bolts of dizziness sear his brain as his lungs deflate, oxygen eaten up by pure lust and leaving his chest buzzing, burning, some sort of response mangling itself in his throat, escaping his lips as nothing more than a cracked moan.

“Do you think about me, onii-chan?” 

Your question pulls him from the depths of his hedonism and he blinks, your face swimming into view, a peculiar mix of hope and cognizance infusing your expression, eyebrows raised with false curiosity, a smirk twitching on your lips.

Ah, there she is, that brat he knows so well, that brat he’s come to crave, every ounce of uncertainty eradicated from your face, replaced with assured confidence, contradicting the tears still staining your cheeks.

You fucking know he does. 

And, oh, how he wishes he was stronger, how he wishes he could lie, how he wishes he could devour the smugness in your eyes and complacency in your smile, to humble you, to knock you from your high throne.

He settles for a kiss instead, mouth crushed to yours as a large hand cups your head, thumb pressing into your ear, fingertips dragging across your scalp as he yanks you closer. 

It hurts, his front teeth scraping against your lip as he practically gnaws his way to your tongue, his own big and thick and so fucking strong as it overwhelms yours, shoving it further into the cavern of your mouth and forcing it to stay put as he explores. 

He’s making a real mess as he slathers over your molars, over the inside of your cheeks and the backs of your teeth, drenching your mouth in him. Drool oozes steadily from the corners, collecting along the underside of his bottom lip and leaving his chin sticky and slick. 

“Yes,” he whispers, eyes shut so tightly his whole forehead crinkles, mouth wet and sliding against your own. “Yes, yes, I think about you—much too often.”

Nose nudging yours, he nuzzles into your face a little, planting a chaste kiss to your lips, then peppering a few more, quick and sloppy, around your mouth.

“But right now, I don’t want to think about anything. I just want to feel you creaming all over my cock—you think you can do that for me, princess?” His palms cushion your cheeks, thumbs swiping across your cheekbones, then brushing strands of damp hair from your temples. “You think you can do that for your onii-chan?” 

Yes you can, of course you can, you’re nodding, blinking the last remnants of tears from your eyes, rapid movement eliminating the final stubborn drops, clinging delicately to your outer lashes. 

“S’it, baby,” he encourages as your hips start moving again, working up a steady rhythm. “Just like that, good girl.”

A mewl slips from your lips, burrowing your scalding face in his sticky neck again, his undivided attention almost too much to bear. 

“Like it when you call me a good girl,” you murmur, lips dragging across his skin with the confession, streaking him with thick glimmers of spit. 

“Is that so?” he laughs a little, pressing a few kisses to the crown of your head. “That’s because you don’t hear it often.” 

Lifting your head, you scowl at him, though there’s no heat to your glare, fury dimmed by fondness, unable to smother the smile playing with your lips.

A dazzling smile spreads across his own face in response, and he laughs again, his eyes so bright, so brilliant they almost hurt, blazing like two small suns, scorching your skin as his gaze glides over it.

He watches you like a man possessed, a man obsessed, entirely entranced by the way pleasure passes over your face, twisting your features into the cutest little winces as you grind the head of his cock against your cervix, then smoothing them out with bliss as his shaft drags along your favourite spot, bouncing in shallow little motions to rub over that fleshy patch hard and fast, a stream of mewls spilling from your lips, stitched together with his honorific. 

“You’re so pretty when you ride my cock,” he groans, words tapering off into a hoarse whimper, as if it pains him to admit it. 

His palms run up your sides, fingers counting over each rib, hands committing every dip and curve and bulge to memory, marvelled by the way you fill his grip, as if he can’t believe you’re real, you’re here, you’re his—even if just for tonight.

“Yeah, yeah, keep going, use onii-chan like a toy, sweetheart.” 

And he tries to be patient, he swears he does—tries not to rush you, tries to relish in the moment, in each swirl of your hips and every puff of his name—except your pace never accelerates, never moves past anything but teasing as you use his now aching cock to continually edge yourself; moans building higher and higher, louder and louder, on the cusp of the crest before they disintegrate into nothing and you start the process all over again, the delicate fluttering of your cunt enough to drive him fucking insane with desire.

It has his entire form trembling with such vigour it’s quivering the mattress, muscles locked stiff and tight as he tries to keep from moving, from bucking up wildly, from forcing you to speed the hell up. Rough fingers sink into your flesh so deep it dimples, a pathetic attempt to ground himself, rapidly blooming bruises staining your flesh.

But he’s powerless to stifle the whines leaking through the gaps of his gritted teeth, hands flexing on your hips, whole body pulled taut with restraint. 

He’s sure you can feel his cock twitching inside of you, eager and impatient, begging you to move faster, to fuck him harder. 

But you aren’t going to do any of that—not unless he asks for it, he realizes dimly, after you bring yourself to near orgasm for the third time in a row, giggling a little at his crestfallen expression, his hair having fallen almost completely from its trademark spiky buns, braided fishermen sweater soaked with sweat and sticking to his now heaving chest.

He really thought it was real this time. He really thought you were finally going to cream all over him, so he could finally flip you over and fuck you properly, pound you into the mattress and stuff that pretty, cute little cunt to the goddamn brim with his seed.

He’d been trying so hard to be nice, to be the loving, doting, good big brother he is—but he’s also only human, and there’s only so much misbehaviour he can bear before, finally, he snaps. 

Because, sure, big brothers are meant to care for, to lead and to nurture, but they’re also meant to teach, to punish, to put bratty little sisters back in their fucking place. 

“You think I don’t know what you’re doing? Huh?” his grip on your hips tightens, halting you from moving. “You think I’m fucking stupid?” 

“Never, Choso-nii,” you gasp, astonished. “I would never—” 

Sincerity rings in your voice, but he can see it, the mischief tugging at the corners of your mouth, barely suppressed by your façade of innocence.

Anyone else would’ve been fooled—enchanted by your doe eyes and your dainty voice. 

But not him.

No, he knows better now. 

“Bullshit,” he cuts you off, eyes narrowed sharply. “You wanted to ride my cock, but you’re clearly incapable of it—”

“No I’m not!”

“—So it looks like I’ll have to take matters into my own hands.”

“No! I—I can do it!” you cry, face crumpled in fury, nails scrabbling at his shoulders.

“You lost your chance to prove it to me,” he growls. 

The world flips suddenly, momentarily a blur of inks and ivories, a breath of surprise punched from your ribs as your back slams against the mattress, trapped between the bedspread and your big brother’s heaving chest.

“You have been testing me all fucking holiday,” he snarls, specks of spit splattering across your cheeks. “Onii-chan shouldn’t give you his cum—onii-chan shouldn’t have given you his cock at all!” 

A certain type of haughtiness corrodes your shock, lips spreading into a pompous smirk.

“Oh, but you just couldn’t help yourself, could you, onii-chan.” 

“You little bitch!” 

His hips shove forward, forcing you further into the plush of the mattress, cockhead ramming against your cervix. A little noise of pain vibrates on the back of your tongue, shattering your arrogance, and a grin smears across his face, glinting in the moonlight. 

“I think it’s time your big brother teach you a lesson in respect.”

“Y-Yeah? And how are you gonna do that?”

“You’re going to take what onii-chan gives you, and you’re going to fucking like it. And then, at the end, when you’ve gone stupid from the cock you don’t deserve, you’re going to thank me for giving it to you at all. Do you understand me?” 

Defiance shines in your eyes, lacquered by a thin coating of tears, nose scrunching up in a glower. 

A rough thumb and forefinger, hardened by charcoals, clamps around your jaw, squeezing your cheeks with such force that your mouth puckers, a sticky little whine squealing in your throat.

“Do you understand me?” he asks again, each word said slow with purpose, each word annunciated with intent, his eyes boring into yours, sharp and painful. 

Finally, those tears push past your bloated lashes, shoved from your eyes by rapid blinking and rolling down your cheeks in glistening pairs, a half-stifled hiccup stuttering your chest. 

“Y-Yes,” you whisper, nose twitching. 

“What was that? Onii-chan couldn’t hear you.” 

“Yes, onii-chan.” 

“Good girl.”

And then his hips are snapping, hard and fast and immediate, fucking into you with such ruthlessness that it jostles your body up the bed, sheets collecting in little wrinkled bunches beneath you. Your nails sink into his shoulders, piercing flesh through the knit of his sweater, the muscles in your thighs tensing as your ankles hook around his waist, his shirt riding up, your heels digging into the those cute little dimples that cushion the base of his spine. 

It hurts, every pound of his cock producing a dull, throbbing ache low and deep in your gut, another torrent of tears rushing to flood your vision.

“Ch-Choso-nii, Ch-Choso-nii,” you whimper, face screwed up in pain, his name stuttered by his rapid thrusts.

“What’s the matter?” he pouts, and it’s so condescending, dripping from his lips in an over-exaggerated coo. “Can’t take onii-chan’s cock?”

The question wafts across your face in a panted breath and you lick at your lips, sopping it up with your tongue.

“N-No,” you say, and that telltale brattiness is back, watered down by his viciousness. “I can do it—I-I can do it for you, onii-chan.” 

A throaty curse escapes his lips, thrusts stammering out of rhythm for a moment as his cock twitches, and a helpless giggle bubbles up in your throat.

Even angry, he’s still so fucking easy. 

He regains his composure quickly, though, face hardened to stone but beginning to splinter with pleasure. 

“Brat,” he breathes out, though there’s mirth shining in his eyes, pure and fond and full of love. “You better.”

And even angry, he still sounds so fucking pretty; cracked moans and dense groans and choked gasps, all flowing from his mouth in a single stream, fractured by the piston of his hips.

The pain doesn’t fade, of course—it barely diminishes at all, the sheer massiveness of his cock making it near impossible to be dispelled, keeping the cramping pang in the pit of your belly steady and constant—but it does amplify the pleasure, nerves gnawed raw by the agony, left hypersensitive to the sparks of ecstasy that blaze through your veins with every quick, rough pump of his hips, every deep, hard slam against your bruised cervix, every rapid drag over that engorged spot.

It leaves you feeling high, leaves you feeling stupid, brain melting in a hot haze of lust and rendering you incapable of forming a single coherent thought beyond how incredible his cock is, his name and his title the only two things your sloppy, numb tongue can fully scrape together.

It’s all so much, too much, but it all feels so fucking good—s’good, Choso-nii, y’r so-so good—sentiment vibrating indistinctly in your chest.

“Yeah, sweetheart?” he asks, words gone wispy, fading into a whine. “Does your onii-chan’s cock make you feel good?”

Yes, yes, yes, onii-chan, it’s so good, you’re so good! 

Your head nods frantically, fingers curling in the collar of his sweater, a mess of affirmatives fucked from your mouth. 

“Y’know, you’re kinda cute when you’re too cockdrunk to misbehave,” he chuckles a little, biting back a moan as your cunt clenches at the compliment. “May-Maybe onii-chan should fuck you stupid more often, huh?” 

Oh, God, yes, onii-chan; oh, please, onii-chan! 

“Yeah, you’d like that a bit too much, though, wouldn’t you, you little sl—ah—slut.”

Drool dribbles from the sides of your mouth as you continue nodding, eyes wide and unblinking, encrusted with stars. 

“Y’so pretty, onii-chan,” you manage to mumble out, sentiment tangled in threads of spit, fingers flexing in the fabric of his sweater, as if they yearn to touch but can’t find the strength to carry out the action.

And he is, so beautiful it’s borderline sickening, strands of onyx plastered to his cheeks, his jaw, his neck, strung together in clumps and saturated in sweat; damp skin glittering in the waning moonlight spilling through the slits of his window, dewdrops catching delicately in the beams as he pounds into you, every drive of his cock accelerating his pace.

“W-Wan’your cum now,” you slur the demand through a lax pout, lids beginning to weight with exhaustion, heavy as they frame dopey eyes.

“Yeah?” he laughs a little, gaze shining with adoration, and it’s breathless, it’s beautiful, his affection wafting over your scalding face. “Onii-chan needs you to cream all over his cock first. Can you—” a grunt cuts him off, and he whimpers, pushing through his sentence, his voice strained. “Can y’do that for me, angel?” 

“Uh-huh, uh—uh-huh,” your head begins nodding more fervently again, pushing your lids open with some effort to stare up at him, pupils swelling with devotion and determination.

“Then show me—Show me how gorgeous my good girl looks when she’s making a mess all over her big brother’s cock.” 

Three more thrusts and your cunt is obeying, convulsing on his thick shaft as heat gushes around him, so much that you can hear it—a sick, slick squelching as he jackhammers into you, your essence coating his thighs in a shiny layer of arousal. 

“Oh, fuck,” his eyes shut tightly before springing open again, suddenly rabid, ravenous. 

The bed creaks as his hips speed up, skin sticky with arousal as it slaps against your own, the sharp sound mingling with his ragged pants and your hitched mewls.

“Onii—Nii-chan,” you nearly wail, fingers tangling weakly in the hair at the nape of his neck, nails scraping against his flesh. “Please, please, cum, gimme—gimme y’r cum!” 

“Greedy little thing,” he rasps out, voice cracking into a whine. 

But you don’t care, you can’t care, pleads spilling from your lips as your thighs tense around his waist, hips twitching in erratic little motions, crudely trying to fuck yourself on him.  

“Need it, need it, onii-chan, fill my belly with it, onii-chan, please!” 

“Christ,” he chokes on the curse, pace faltering as he finally gives his baby sister what she wants, cock throbbing almost violently while it fills you with hot, thick cum, so much you swear you really can feel it, stuffing your belly as full as it can be, tummy bulging cutely with his seed.

You must tell him that, sentiment slipping from your lips without your permission, because he moans again, his cock giving another weak spurt, hips stuttering as he tries to fuck further into you, grinding the head into your sore cervix. 

“Yeah, yeah,” you’re murmuring, hips rolling up to meet his own. “Push it into me, onii-chan, push it into my cunt nice n deep, do-don’t waste a single drop!” 

“You really are gonna be the death of me,” he whines, face buried in your hair as he collapses on top of you, hips still moving in lazy little circles, shudders of overstimulation rippling through his form. 

“Mm,” you hum, on the cusp of unconsciousness, nuzzling your face into his neck like a kitten, then lapping at a few droplets of sweat streaming down the column. “What are lil sisters for?” 

[tinydeskwriter]

LOVE HOLD| ⟮private⟯

lando norris x wolff!reader | f1 grid x wolff!reader (mostly)platonic

A/n: just a little peak at y/n private ig account...

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liked by lilymhe, landonorris, susie_wolff and 43 others

noty/n.wolff it all started when my mom met my dad, they fell in love, and they had me! hi, i'm ryan... dude, those are my parents, I came from them, talk about winner genes...

view all 18 comments

alex_albon you did not inherit they height though...

↳noty/n.wolff your opinion is irrelevant...

↳charlesleclerc midget😊

↳noty/n.wolff i going over there to cry on my many grand slam trophies from my many wins, comforted in the fact that I'm still number one in the world, not that you guys know what this feel like...

↳charlesleclerc uncalled for...

↳noty/n.wolff don't come for my height and I won't come for your lack of wins🙂

↳landonorris ankle biter

↳noty/n.wolff i am going to ignore you

Aug 12th 2022

liked by lilymhe, landonorris, francisca.cgomes and 65 others

(tagged: francisca.cgomes; charlottesiine; elizaabrams; cassandra.blanchard; benshelton)

noty/n.wolff men ain't shit, like the goddess cher once siad, man are like dessert, you don't need them... stick to your girls (+benny)

btw pierregasly, thank u for introducing me to kika, i think i am keeping her😘

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francisca.cgomes you can keep me😍

↳pierre gasly wait a minute...

↳noty/n.wolff💍alexa play boyfriend by dove cameron

Oct 30th 2022

liked by lilymhe, francisca.cgomes, landonorris, susie_wolff and 52 others

noty/n.wolff go shawty, it's your birthday, we gon' party like it's your birthday... congrats landito! you manage to survive for 23 years, and i am so proud of you! there were a few close calls(at least a few that i witnessed) but you made it! i hope you feel blessed and special, not everyone gets a appreciation post from yours truly🤍

jokes aside...happy birthday lan, i wish you a world of happiness, because you deserve it, thank u for making my life happier by being in it 🤍 we have been in each others lives for nearly fifteen years now, here to more fifteen, i hope you know, through thick and thin, i will always be by your side 🤍😘

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lilymhe I love the third photo, who took it??

↳francisca.cgomes I thought the same when I saw the fourth photo

↳noty/n.wolff 😘

alex_albon just friends, she says

↳georgerussell63 the best of friends, she says

↳alex_albon we are being ignored

↳georgerussell63 I noticed

landonorris❤️❤️❤️

↳noty/n.wolff 🤍🤍🤍

Nov 13th 2022

liked by carlossainz55, francisca.cgomes, landonorris, susie_wolff and 49 others

noty/n.wolff last trip of the year before going home for christmas, touring with local carlossainz55, Madrid may have become one of my favorite cities in the world, thank you the Sainz family for welcoming me and for the 5⭐hospitality, congrats on the newlyweds, beautiful wedding a wish you guys a long and happy life together🤍

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carlossainz55 come back whenever you want

Dec 9th 2022

liked by lilymhe, landonorris, susie_wolff and 43 others

noty/n.wolff Merry Christmas folks🤍

view all 32 comments

Dec 25th 2022

noty/n.wolff half a century + 1 looks good on you🤍 the man who always encouraged me to follow my dreams and do twice as much to make them come true, who never let me give up, and who, even though he couldn't physically be present, never lost any of my matches. #1 dad in the world, best team principal in F1, a example to be followed, I honestly could not wish for a better father.

love u daddy. happy birthday🤍

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susie_wolff you made him emotional

elizaabrams girl sometimes I forget that your dad is the king of dilfs...

(liked by lilymhe, susie_wolff and francisca.cgomes)

noty/n.wolff 👀

Jan 12th 2023

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taglist:@myescapefromthislife | @kapsylia | @biitch-with-wifi |@vicurious28 | @minkyungseokie | @asfaraslifegets

[greatsharklamia]

Rafe x Y/N imagine

Featuring: Uni AU, Fratbro Rafe, Social Media Au

Blurb: After turning down Rafe Cameron you’ve caught his interest.

Could Rafe have been nicer? Yes. But why would he do that when it was so much more fun to be an asshole.

Or, at least that was how he felt until you turned away and crossed your arms.

He sighed, he couldn’t be mean to you. You’d shared classes together for over a year, and you’d always been sweet to everyone.

“Look, you’re cute. But I’m not a one girl kind of guy,” he comforted, his voice soft.

“Rafe,” you said, keeping your voice equally soft. “I’m not asking you out. I’m asking you for Kelces number for my friend. She likes him, but she’s shy.”

Running a hand over his buzz cut Rafe appraised you, and to his delight you meet his eyes straight on.

“What's your friends name?”

“Lucy.” You point over your shoulder to the pretty dark haired girl watching from under her eyelashes.

“Well she is his type.” He pulled out his phone and scrolled to Kayces number. Without pause he rattled it off, and watched as you wrote it down on your arm with a pink ballpoint pen.

“Cute,” he teased after she had repeated the number back to confirm. “I know,” you quipped backing away with a wave. You’d completed your task and now you had a text to help write.

But Rafe wasn’t done with the conversation, reaching out to grab you by the wrist. It wasn’t rough, but it did raise goosebumps due to the warmth of his hand on your winter cooled skin.

“Want to grab a drink with me,” the sentence sounded like it should have been a question, but it wasn’t. He was hot, you’d give him that, but you wanted romance and something that might turn into a relationship, not another hook up.

And so you told him that, “No thanks, I’m more of a one guy kinda girl, and I don’t share.” You gently pulled yourself from his grasp. “Catcha around.”

You didn’t turn around, instead proudly sauntering back to Lucy, victoriously raising your arm high enough that she could see the numbers written on your arm. Her smile was bright and you couldn't help but match it as she dove at you with a tight hug.

“Lets get out of the cold and come up with a text to him,” you said. As Lucy linked arms with you and started towing you toward the cafe ahead, you couldnt help but look over your shoulder to find Rafe leaned up against the building where you left him. His attention was on you with a curiosity you weren't sure of.

Though it didn’t seem like it, winter was your favourite season. Oh you’d complain and the cold made you cranky sometimes, but there was something so magical about this time of year.

It could have been Christmas. Or it could have been the snow and winter themed drinks that landed in cafes. Mostly the latter you admited to yourself as you sipped the last of your mint coffee, savouring it.

Drinking a full coffee before entering the cinema probably wasn’t the smartest idea, but it had certainly made the walk over more enjoyable.

Your friend group had decided an hour ago to see Gladiator II, and you couldn’t wait to turn your brain off for a couple of hours.

Once the tickets were paid for you all scattered, some to the bathroom, others to the concession stand. Instead you and Lucy skipped both and entered the correct cinema, choosing your seats.

It was like goldilocks and the three bears. You couldn’t be too close, or too far away. Nor could you be too far one way or too far the other way. And first comes, first served.

You both sat, pretty much right in the middle, and had the whole large room for yourself for a number of minutes until, to your surprise Rafe Cameron and some of his frat brothers walked through the door.

The second he caught sight of you it was decided. He was sitting beside you. He didn’t care where the others sat, though he had a sneaky suspicion that Kelce would be sitting beside your roommate.

“Y/N, what a shock to run into you so soon,” Rafe said with a charming smile as he walked toward you down the isle.

By the time you had realized what was happening, he’d sat down in the empty chair to your right, and was reaching into your contraband bag of lollies. You let him. As long as he didn’t eat all of your favourites then he could share your snack. And then he dropped a couple pieces of popcorn into your hand in payment. He could eat as many of your favourites as he wanted. Movie theatre popcorn was good shit.

Munching on your popcorn, you spared a thought for your friends and where they would sit, but then pushed it from your mind, they would be thrilled to sit near the frat guys.

And you were proved to be correct, when your friends entered and you saw them clock the situation. Instead of joining you, they sat a row ahead and found themselves flocked by frat boys immediately.

Free to turn your attention to the man beside you, you noticed that he was watching your shared friends as well.

“You struck me more as a Wicked person,” you teased. To your delight he laughed, but was quick to refute it. “No, at least not without my sister.”

“Cute.” You hadn’t meant to say it. It had slipped out. But the light blush that rose to his ears made you pleased you had. It was clear he didn’t know what to say, instead bringing his drink up to your face and smoothly pushing the straw into your mouth. Cola. Not your favourite, but not your least favourite either. You took another long sip, keeping eye contact with him as you debated draining the whole cup out of spite.

But then you’d have to go to the bathroom.

You let go of the straw and couldn’t help but roll your eyes when he immediately brought it up to his mouth.

The audacity of this man to be flirting with you now, after how your last interaction had ended.

Two could play at that game. You pulled your phone out and snapped a sneaky pic, posting it on insta. You didn’t have to tag him, you knew he’d see it.

Even unaware of your play, Rafe couldn’t let you have the last word. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders, his hand coming to rest on your opposite shoulder and burying into your hair immediately.

You’d let him win this one. You’d won the last one after all.

Sighing quietly to yourself, you lay your head on the desk in front of you and settle in to wait for the professor to turn up.

Class was filling up slowly, and the easy chatter was threatening to lull you to sleep. It had snowed heavily the night prior, and you were sure it would mean that the class would be a little empty. Even living on campus you’d been tempted to stay in bed for the day and binge netflix with your roommate, but the milk had run out in the mini fridge and coffee was calling your name.

A warm hand came to rest on the back of your neck. You jolted in surprise. Rafe.

“Hi Rafe,” You said leaning up from the desk and noticing that the class was over half fulled but no Professor had appeared.

“Y/N, now how did I not know you were in this class?” he asked. His hand didn't move from the back of your neck, he’d even gone so far as to lean back in the seat next to you and rest his arm on the back of your chair.

A yawn broke free of you, which you quickly tried to smother. “Ditto.” His expression was a cross between surprise and amusement.

You could see why. Even at a uni as big as yours he still had notoriety. It came from being a rich, hot, fuckboy. Every big party on campus had Rafe in attendance, if not just because his frat were the ones throwing the party.

Today he looked less like a frat boy, and more like a stuffed sausage. So you told him as such and had the pleasure of watching him throw his head back in laughter. To your surprise the laughter was genuine, and he looked pleased when he looked back at you.

“Well I think you look adorable,” he said. Behind him Ruthie and Topper were making a scene calling for him to come join them at the back of the room, but Rafe didn’t even turn as he waved a hand at them as if to shoo them away.

“Not sitting with your fanclub?”

From the corner of your eye you saw him smile, “Not today,” he said, and then corrected himself. “Well, I thought I’d keep it lowkey and gift one of my fan club with my presence.”

You made a show of looking around confused, but couldn't retort because the door thudded open and your professor came striding down the stairs.

And for the rest of the class Rafe sat beside you playing with the end of your ponytail which had escaped from underneath your scarf.

That afternoon when you were curled up in bed with a triple shot dirty chai, your phone dinged with a notification. And to your great horror the sight of Rafes insta story made you snort out a mouthful of coffee in laughter.

“Y/N,” the shout echoed around the courtyard and hushed the students in the general vicinity. With all eyes on him, Rafe was smug and confident as he he cut the distance between you both.

“Rafe, was there something you wanted?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. Behind you your friends laughed, well aware that Rafe had taken to popping up around you. When you’d told them about your first proper interaction with him, the one that had gotten Lucy her boyfriend, they were adamant that your rebuttal of him had peaked his interest.

So far it hadn’t amounted to anything, but that remained to be seen. You were in no rush to see what would come of a flirtation with Rafe Cameron.

In the meantime however, you were having fun.

“Coming to the party tonight?” He asked.

You weren’t sure yet, and when you told him as such, he frowned, looking serious for the first time.

“What if i promise to walk you home when you’re ready to go home?”

Now this was a shock. But did help with your decision. You nodded. “If you pinky promise to walk me home tonight, then yes I’ll come. My roomates staying with Kelce, so I would have had to get home by myself.”

“Well we can’t have that can we,” he said and extended his pinky to you.

You looked at him for a beat and then gleefully extended your pinky to wrap it around his, before moving your thumb up to lock it in.

“Good. I’m late to class but I’ll see you at the party, and if you’re having trouble finding me,” he pulled a pen out of huis back pocket and wrote, in lopping, messy writing, his number. “Text me.”

And with a wink he was disappearing into the busy courtyard. With him gone you felt a little nervous about turning to face your nosy friends. They were already giggling behind you. But you had to bite the bullet, and met their amused faces as they started peppering you with questions. Anyone would think they hadn’t been there to watch the whole exchange. It was a good thing you had some time to kill before your next class.

The music was pounding, and while it was a song you normally liked, right now it was just irritating you. Four drinks in, two and a half hours later, and you were ready to go home now. It was nearing midnight, and the mass of frat boys wasn’t helping you find Rafe. How could they all look the same? Was it a prerequisite of being a frat boy? Wear a douchy cap and a white longsleeve shirt.

Two texts to him over ten minutes with no response, and a sea of tall drunk guys was all you needed to know. Finding him here would be impossible.

So, waving goodbye to your friends still on the dance floor, you stopped by the bedroom dedicated to the coat room, and picked through the chaotic mess until you had found your coat and scarf. Your phone remained silent while you pulled on your coat and let yourself out the front door into the brisk winter air.

Some brave souls were scattered around the yard, smoking or drinking or making out, but the path was clear and you were out the gate and striding down the side walk toward your dorm before Rafe realised that you were gone.

A groan left him as he passed the end of his smoke to Barry. Hands now free he pulled his phone from deep in his coat pocket and jolted to his feet.

“See ya later man,” he told Barry, who only flicked a lazy hand at him.

The two texts from you lit up the screen when he held it up to his face, and as he was reading your last text another came in.

‘Walking home now. Have a good night.’

He couldn’t tell if you were being sweet, or telling him to go fuck himself, but it didn’t matter. You were only a few metres ahead of him now.

“Y/N,” Rafe called jogging the last little while to catch up with you.

Your eyes met his for a moment, and you were sure that he could see the annoyance in your face.

“You didn’t have to walk me back home you know. A couple of the girls on my floor left an hour ago, but I stayed cause you were,” he cut you off with a sheepish smile. “I’m so sorry, my phone was in my coat pocket and I couldn't hear it. Before i went outside for a smoke I saw you were still having fun with your friends so I thought it would be safe.”

You wouldn’t admit it but that was sort of sweet.

“Okay,” is all you said, and the both of you fell into an easy and comfortable silence.

You hadn’t seen Rafe in a couple of days, not since he had walked you home. And what alarmed you was that you were keeping count.

Pushing any thoughts of the frat boy from your mind, you focused again on the laptop in front of you. The english assignment had been kicking your arse, mainly because you hated Shakespear. But you weren’t sure that your opinions on ‘how his time appropriate sexism weakened his works’, was going to go down with your Proffesor. You could almost picture him now; big heart eyes as he spoke about the bard.

Holding back a huff, you clicked out of the document and pulled up a different class’ assignment. Thankfully with exams rapidly approaching these were your last two assignments. You just needed to smash through them before Thursday evening. It was currently Tuesday. The coffee cup beside you was nearing empty, and the cafe was fairly quiet, a product of the early hour.

Falling into your paper on the Romans, you missed the door at the other end of the cafe open. But you became aware as a body jolted down into the seat across from you. Ripping your headphones out quickly in your fright you met Rafes eyes.

“Hi Y/N,” he seemed quieter, and sort of sad. “Do you mind if I join you?” he gestured to his bag which sat in the empty seat beside him.

“Of course.” Normally he would have just welcomed himself and set up shop wiuthout consulting you. But upon closer inspection he looked tired, and his normally clean shaven face was being taken over by stubble.

As he set up his laptop and his text book, you drunk the last of your coffee and popped to your feet. “What are you drinking?” you asked.

“I can go and get our drinks,” he said. But you shook your head. “Nope, my shout.”

For a moment it looked like he was going to argue, but instead he just asked for a mocha, and when further prompted, a blueberry muffin.

With a smile you patted him on the shoulder on your way past, and missed the small smile that grew on his face at the action. Taking the opportunity to swing by the bathroom now that your laptop had its very own protector, Rafe was settled in and typing by the time you were back.

“Want to share my headphone?” You held out the left airpod, and to no surprise he took it easily. Your study playlist consisted of artists like Lana Del Rey, and Noah Kahn, so you motioned for his phone which he handed to you without unlocking.

“Password,” you said and instead of taking it back, he rattled off the four number code. Your surprise must have been obvious because his checks pinked. “Did you know,” you started, scrolling through his phone to spotify, “we have the same password.”

You weren’t kidding either. It was an easy password, but you hadn’t yet meet someone with the same password.

By this time you’d found what you were looking for, and in a matter of moments had set up shared jams. Sliding the phone back it only took a couple of songs for the first of Rafes song to pop up. He’d surprisingly kept the calm vibes of your playlist, and only smiled slightly when you gave him a thumbs up of approval.

Once again a picture popped up on instagram that night. Posted by Rafe, it was from the cafe.

You thought about it for a moment and posted your own picture on instagram.

Rafe was quick to comment a heart in response.

It was only the next day that you saw Rafe walking alone across the campus. The sadness was back on his face, which you’d tried so hard yesterday to dispel. Without a thought you caught up to Rafe, slipping an arm through his as you slipped slightly on the frozen ground.

“Morning,” you said brightly.

He looked up from the ground, took in your smile and the arm linked with his, and something lightened in his face.

“Hi, Y/N,” His voice was still quiet, but he spared a smile.

“Where are we off to?” you asked. It might have backfired, but something told you that Rafe just needed someone in his corner at the moment.

You weren’t aware of it, but what was once a small crush he harboured for you was turning into full blown infatuation. Now he just needed to make sure he could seal the deal.

“The library, I have to drop off some books,” Rafe finally responded.

“Oh awesome, I need to get stuff for one of my exams,” you said.

Once again it struck you that it was easy with Rafe. He could be a dick, your first proper meeting could prove that, but other than that first day, he’d never been anything but nice to you. And it was starting to make you like him. More than you should have.

You knew it wouldn't go anywhere, he’d told you himself that he didn't do just one girl, but that was fine. Crushes came and went, but what you had with Rafe was shaping up to be a really good friendship.

He proved that true when you reached the library and he held the door open for you, and after dropping off his own books, followed you around holding your books. While at first you had said no, he’d taken to reaching over your shoulder and grabbing them straight out of your hands.

Again, after a while he perked up, and became more of the man you knew him to be. Even teasing you when you tripped over the edge of one of the many ancient rugs near the check out desk.

The book made a loud thump as you closed it, done with studying for exams for the day. It had been a long day, a long week really. But with one exam done, and four more to go in the coming weeks, you were trying hard not to lose steam already. Thankfully classes had finished, and already the campus was emptying with people going home for break.

Most of your friends were still here but you already knew that you would be the last man standing on campus. Not that it worried you. You weren’t going to be far behind them. And then it was only a short walk to the train station, and you’d be on a three hour long trip home. You couldn’t wait.

Close with your parents, and no siblings, your trips home were always relaxed and fun filled. Your dreams of home cooked food, and sleeping in your own bed were pushed away at the loud knock on your door.

You rose from your desk and quickly unlatched the lock, pulling the door open. It was Rafe, standing there with two coffees.

“This is for you,” he said, holding one out.

You were quick to take it, sipping the warm coffee with a humm. Having paid the tax, you stepped back and waved Rafe in. You didn’t need to wave him to your bed, it was clear which one was yours, as Lucys had photos of her and Kelce stuck to the wall at the head of the bed.

“Not that I’m not glad to see you, but is everything okay?” You couldn't help but ask. Giving him a moment you closed the window and blew out the small candle sat in front of it.

When you turned to him he was watching you. It wasn’t hard to see he was still feeling a little off.

“I’m not going home for break,” he said once you’d joined him on the bed, your back against the wall.

“How do you feel about that,” you asked, sounding like a therapist.

Rafe huffed and pulled his beanie off his head roughly, tossing it on the floor near the door. “I’m mad.” And it was like the flood gates had opened. “Dad told me not to come home this break. He and his wife are heading to the Bahamas for the break. I don’t know why they couldn’t go when we’re not on school break.” You didn’t need to wonder who ‘we’ was for long. “My sister Sarah spends hardley any time at home, always with her boyfriend. We’re not super close anyway. And Wheezie, who I am close with, is going away with a friend.”

He sighed and raked a hand down his face. “It's fine, it's not like its a long break, and I’ll get the frat house to myself.”

But it sounded more like he was talking himself into being okay.

“Why can’t you go home anyway?” You asked, trying to be gentle.

“Cause Dad said not to. That means that he doesn’t want me in the house while he's not there. Probably because he doesn’t want to pay the staff for two weeks.”

That explained why he’d been so sad for the last couple of days. It didn’t matter that he was in his 20s now, his Dad still had a responsibility to not be a shit parent.

“Are you sad because you aren’t seeing your family, or because you’ll be stuck here alone?” It was a rude question. You knew it, he knew it, but it needed asking.

He moved, turning to sit criss cross on the bed facing you, so you did the same leaving only a small gap between you both. A deep sigh left him. “Mostly the second. I don’t know if I’m going to be able to relax being stuck here. I was also looking forward to visiting the beach. I wasn’t going to swim, just listen to the waves,” Quietly and a beat later, “I miss Wheezie too.”

Without hesitation you lay a hand on his knee, squeezing lightly. “What do you think about going home with a friend?”

“Nah, I don’t want to be a burden.” The you of a month ago would have been so surprised to see this side of the privileged man in front of you. The you of now was touched he trusted you enough.

It was all you needed. You didn’t live super close to the beach, but close enough that the trip could be done in forty minutes. And you knew that your parents would love to have Rafe.

Without delay you leaned over to the dresser and grabbed your phone. Rafe watched, confused but quiet. Finding your moms number, you called it and put it on speaker phone.

It was a whirlwind after that. Your mom was thrilled you were bringing a friend home, and had asked Rafe a slew of questions, from what his favourite movie was, to what he liked to eat. At the end of the call she had added, “I can’t wait to see you both in a couple of weeks.”

Rafe was stunned. That wasn’t what he had expected to happen when he stood in line at the cafe earlier. Instead he had thought that you would talk him into having a fun time at the frat house by himself. Maybe he would then finally ask you out.

Instead you had absolutely wowed him. And he could see you were starting to look nervous.

“Thank you,” he said, leaning forward and pressing his lips to yours. He hoped that this wouldn’t ruin your friendship, or your holiday plans. But over your interactions his feelings had only grown.

But you clearly didn’t dislike it, pulling back to smile brightly at him before leaning back in to nip at his bottom lip. With a groan he pulled you in and onto his lap.

Lucy had decided to come back to your shared dorm for the night, instead of staying with Kelce. Being loved up was so exciting, but she was missing spending time with just you.

But when she opened the door she was quick to change her mind. Flicking a text to Kelce, and then one to you she turned on her heal and tried to hold her giggles in until she was further down the hall.

From the looks of it, you and Rafe were definitely together now. Lucy thought for a moment, and then created a group chat, named it ‘Double Date’ and sent the photo she had just taken of you both.

[goodnightndove]

like/reblog if saved/used pls

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Dove Cameron Christmas Layout // Requested

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˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

Demetrius Desmond fluff/SFW alphabet

Demetrius Desmond X GN!reader

SFW

L, M, N, O, P, Q, R, S, T, U, V, W, X, Y, Z

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

Guys I wanted to upload the original but it didn't save so this is the second version? And I was kind of pissed so it's not the best.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

L - Love (how do they show you they love you? What’s their love language?)

At first Demetrius will be trying to show you his love in a lot of ways, for example he heard that gift giving makes girls happy from one of his classmates. So the next morning you will have flowers in your doorstep (expect they will be in pot amd not cut, because why would he give you dead flowers?)

He's the type of guy to give your mum an microwave for Christmas, because he noticed that yours is not working while visiting.

M - Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

He has a strict schedule and wakes up early, so if you are (like me) sleeping longer (or till 11 am) he simply leaves the room and starts his day without you. But if you will ask him to stay in the morning with you sometimes he has no problem with it. Im the start he got bored quickly, so he started to leave some books on his nightstand to read in the mornings.

Also when you wake up with messy hair and droll on your lips he doesn't really mind. In fact he doesn't mind any natural body sounds or projections. Like farts or something. He couldn't care less, you're getting a smooch even with a dried droll on your mouth.

N - Nightmare (what is their worst fear?)

You leaving him, even worse rejecting him in an advanced state of your realitionship, after being married. Demetrius didn't think he would be a bad husband, but after dating you he tends to get insecure sometimes since he started acknowledge couples and people around him more.

Just don't leave him since you are the only person he has.

O - Obvious (How obvious do they make it that they like you?)

People around you wouldn't notice even after marriage I fear. He got trained like some freaking soldier by his father I fear so in public he almost acts like you're a stranger.

But in private he's definitely glued to you. Don't even dare to be on your phone or shift your attention on something, even worse someone else. He's gonna be silently judging you. You talk a lot about future together so you know he's taking this very seriously.

P - Pet Names (what do they like to call you?)

Your name...

M sorry, but he will just copy what he heard from his parents like Dear. But it might expand into My love, my future wife.

P - Patience (how easily do they get angry?)

Demetrius was learned to not show emotions so he's sometimes confused by them, but he would never scream at you or be physically aggressive. He might use stern voice sometimes but that's all.

Overall he's very patient and if he gets rarely annoyed he might go quiet or end your meeting/date whatever you're doing.

Q - Quiet (How are the calm, quiet moments with them?)

I think the only noise he doesn't mind is your babling. He loves quiet sincere moments with you.

R - Rhythm (what songs reminds you of them?)

Headlock - Imogen Heap

Supernova Love - IVE

If only - Dove Cameron

(I have like thousand more in my mind, pls tell me if you want me to share)

S - Secrets (how open are they with you?)

He wouldn't purposely keep secrets, but more tries to protect you from his family problems. Eventually might come to you as a lost puppy and rattle through all his problems.

S - Security (how protective are they? how would they protect their s/o?)

Gets protective very easily and doesn't mind verbally arguing for you. Will not take any disrespect on the future Donovan lady.

T - Time (how long did it take you to get together?)

Either 3 weeks or 3 months, don't ask.

U - Upset (how do they act when you’re upset?)

Quietly waits for you to calm down or come to him. Will not interfere if it's not a very long time.

V - Vanity (how concerned are they with their looks?)

He knows he isn't nor modem nor unattractive. He seems himself as an average looking gentleman.

W - Warrior (how do they feel about you fighting? Would they fight for you, beside you, etc?)

Idk why but i just got the imagine of Demetrius telling the teacher that you git into fight

Anyways, in terms of for your love he would probably have to start with an disagreement with his father. There are two options

Either Donovan couldn't care less and only cares about if you are able to birth children.

Or he will not accept you if you're not noble and trained enough. Definitely would prefer if you obeyed instead of being a brat.

Would fight for you, but wouldn't sacrifice his whole family's legacy for it.

X - X-Ray (how well are they able to read you?)

At the start he is going to be a lot confused, but later in the realitionship he will be reading you like an open book.

Y - Yearn (What do they do when they miss you?)

A lot, it geniuly starts bothering him how much he starts being dependent on you.

Z- Zzz (How do they act when they get sleepy? How is it sleeping in the same bed?)

Sleeps like those dead people in coffin. Later tries to imitate your sleeping habits and realizes his sleeping wasn't the most comfortable before. Doesn't really cuddle while sleeping but will hold your hand.

If he gets sleepy you won't figure it out till he tells you. He always looks like he fights sleep.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

I'm gonna write Demetrius's BD (as Becky's older sister series) and another surprise drabble/fic later.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

[abisbookcase]

100+ songs that remind me of kiribaku/bakushima: the ship between eijiro kirishima + katsuki bakugo from my hero academia (anime)

best friend - rex orange county

sunflower - rex orange county

just a friend - jordi

pluto projector - rex orange county

i love you so - the walters

falling for ya - from the "teen beach movie" - grace phipps

line without a hook - ricky montgomery

mr. loverman - ricky montgomery

the only exception - paramore

devil town - cavetown

falling for u - peachy! & mxmtoon

best friend - laufey

let me down slowly - alec benjamin

anxiety - blackbear & FRND

training wheels - melanie martinez

like or like like - miniature tigers

would you be so kind - dodie

i like me better - lauv

nothing - bruno major

paper rings - taylor swift

puppy princess - hot freaks

i wanna be your boyfriend - hot freaks

let's fall in love for the night - FINNEAS

every summertime - NIKI

cloud 9 - beach bunny

wish you were gay - billie eilish

wish you were sober - conan gray

the king - conan gray

sports - beach bunny

say you won't let go - james arthur

fight or flight - conan gray

are you bored yet? - wallows & clairo

heather - conan gray

cruel summer - taylor swift

comfort crowd - conan gray

lemon boy - cavetown

apocalypse - cigarettes after sex

can i call you tonight? - dayglow

this is home - cavetown

everybody talks - neon trees

someone to you - BANNERS

i love you - billie eilish

this side of paradise - coyote theory

mystery of love - sufjan stevens

always forever - cults

silence - marshmello & khalid

safe & sound (taylor's version) - taylor swift, joy williams & john paul white

safe and sound - capital cities

sweet tooth - cavetown

astronomy - conan gray

me and my husband - mitski

my love mine all mine - mitski

as the world caves in - sarah cothran

strawberries & cigarettes - troye sivan

pierre - ryn weaver

eyes closed - ed sheeran

perfect - ed sheeran

photograph - ed sheeran

can't help falling in love - elvis presley

talk to me - cavetown

we fell in love in october - girl in red

hey there delilah - plain white t's

crush culture - conan gray

for him. - troye sivan & allday

make you mine - PUBLIC

loving is easy - rex orange county & benny sings

i hear a symphony - cody fry

daylight - taylor swift

wildest dreams (taylor's version) - taylor swift

juliet - cavetown

this is what falling in love feels like - JVKE

this is what heartbreak feels like - JVKE

what was i made for? - from "barbie" - billie eilish

reflections - the neighbourhood

oh no! - MARINA

cabo - ricky montgomery

partners in crime - set it off & ash costello

it took me by surprise - maria mena

seventeen - MARINA

this december - ricky montgomery

never ever getting rid of me - waitress original broadway cast

guys dont like me - it boys!

deja vu - olivia rodrigo

drivers license - olivia rodrigo

1 step forward, 3 steps back - olivia rodrigo

bad idea right? - olivia rodrigo

teenage dream - olivia rodrigo

meant to be yours - ryan mccartan, barrett wilbert weed & michelle duffy

verbatim - mother mother

lovers rock - TV girl

lover - taylor swift

freaks - surf curse

electric love - BØRNS

sure thing - miguel

ribs - lorde

sofia - clairo

boys will be bugs - cavetown

i wanna be your girlfriend - girl in red

people watching - conan gray

as the world caves in - matt maltese

two birds - regina spektor

i can't handle change - roar

cardigan - taylor swift

pretty boy - the neighbourhood

cigarette daydreams - cage the elephant

history hates lovers - oublaire

numb little bug - em beihold

where's my love - SYML

dark red - steve lacy

heart to heart - mac demarco

chamber of reflection - mac demarco

for the first time - mac demarco

my kind of woman - mac demarco

kids - current joys

christmas kids - roar

10 things i hate about you - leah kate

boyfriend - dove cameron

my blood - twenty one pilots

my blood - ellie goulding

drumming song - florence + the machine

you belong with me (taylor's version) - taylor swift

sparks fly (taylor's version) - taylor swift

enchanted (taylor's version) - taylor swift

i knew you were trouble (taylor's version) - taylor swift

all too well (10 minute version - taylor's version) - taylor swift

don't blame me - taylor swift

gorgeous - taylor swift

bags - clairo

open arms - SZA & travis scott

all i wanted - paramore

the great war - taylor swift

i wanna be yours - arctic monkeys

afterglow - taylor swift

you get me so high - the neighbourhood

runaway runaway - lullaby layla & keevin

the night we met - lord huron

watercolor eyes - from "euphoria" - lana del rey

late night talking - harry styles

shameless - camila cabello

those eyes - new west

here with me - d4vd

golden hour - JVKE

what a time - julia michaels & niall horan

we belong together - ritchie valens

can't take my eyes off you - frankie valli

i like you (a happier song) - post malone & doja cat

sweater weather - the neighbourhood

K. - cigarettes after sex

out of my league - fitz and the tantrums

until i found you - stephen sanchez & em beihold

loverboy - a-wall

set fire to the rain - adele

mrs magic - strawberry guy

je te laisserai des mots - patrick watson

rises the moon - liana flores

last dance - scratch massive & maud geffray

crush - cigarettes after sex

trust fund baby - why don't we

hooked - why don't we

jenny (i wanna ruin our friendship) - studio killers

not another song about love - hollywood ending

the red means i love you - madds buckley

i won't say (i'm in love) - disney cast from "hercules"

first love/late spring - mitski

love grows (where my rosemary goes) - edison lighthouse

stereo hearts - gym class heroes & adam levine

did i mention - cast from "descendants"

bad romance - lady gaga

sunsetz - cigarettes after sex

still into you - paramore

i kissed a boy - jupither

bang bang (new version) - K'NAAN & adam levine

dress - taylor swift

midnight rain - taylor swift

baby i'm yours - arctic monkeys

falling - chase atlantic

say yes to heaven - lana del rey

cry - cigarettes after sex

sweet - cigarettes after sex

my type - saint motel

they don't know about us - one direction

something just like this - the chainsmokers & coldplay

no one compares to you - jack & jack

yellow hearts - ant saunders

if we have each other - alec benjamin

hey stupid, i love you - JP saxe

if i saw him, i'd still kiss him - mccafferty

i love you like an alcoholic - the taxpayers

i am falling for you - loving caliber

dream boy - waterparks

disaster - conan gray

@ my worst - blackbear

golden - harry styles

start a riot - BANNERS

i love you - woodkid

maniac - conan gray

there is more in the spotify playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/08jACx5UDxnojbTv4I5NR0

if you have any other recommendations for songs please let me know and they will go straight into the playlist. also, please don't be disrespectful and this is a reminder that these are my opinions, i hope that you enjoy the playlist!! ❤️🧡💋