#cranberries ask game

[areseebee]

Who am I to turn down the chance to get some more writing out of you? 😉

How about a little bit of Jerin with "21. pretty"? Bonus points if it's Erin thinking James is pretty rather than the other way around

ohh i love it! here's a little bit set during katya and erin’s confrontation on the stairs at jenny joyce’s house in 1x04 :

“He attractive boy, Erin,” Katya drawls at the top of Jenny Joyce’s stairs, gesturing wearily. Well, Erin’s fucking weary, too. They’ve had this conversation, like, ten times over the past two days and Erin can only attribute it to Katya’s broken English and maybe a wee bit too much radiation because Katya still doesn’t seem to get it. Obviously James is attractive. That’s really not the point. He’s even a little pretty, if you wanted to put a finer point on it (which Erin isn’t very inclined to do – though it would certainly explain why everyone keeps mistaking him for a girl; he’s just got delicate features, like. And very, very green eyes). Katya is so not the first person to notice, and it’s really starting to make Erin rage the way she pretends she is. Because she’s not; Erin’s one-upped her there, and she’s stopped herself nearly 50 times from saying so just so she can rub it in Katya’s big, dumb, Ukrainian face. But some people have principles, and for some people it doesn’t matter that maybe their best friend’s cousin could be a ride (maybe if he sat up a little straighter and, like, didn’t whinge so much), because, at the end of the day, he’s English. But Katya doesn’t have a care about any of it – not about fraternising with oppressors, or deflowering innocent young men, or chasing what she wants so brazenly without a care for what anyone else thinks. Who just lives like that? Erin really can’t imagine; only criminals, probably. Erin’s retort – “He’s English, Katya” – comes effortlessly because that’s the only really necessary explanation. None of the rest of it matters – not the one little curl that likes to come loose and soft around his ear, or the way he kinda looks like Dexter Fletcher from the side if you squint, or when he’d tried to talk to her about Samuel Beckett after he’d learned she liked his writing, or how he’d looked so content with Katya’s hand in his hair and at his jaw. It doesn’t matter what Erin might ever possibly want or not. That’s just the way it is.

as i was writing this, i was surprised to find that i had already written almost this exact same take - erin thinking about james being pretty - for this prompt (i guess i didn't properly link before!) but it has an entirely different vibe. i'm linking it here for a little extra: pretty, version 1.

cranberries ask game

[faunandfloraas]

🎧👀

doo doo doo dooo

[mageknife]

i realllly love your theory crafting and your posts diving deep into the lore and your ocs and you're just a lovely person overall

(ANONYMOUSLY (OR NOT) TELL ME YOUR HONEST OPINION ABOUT ME. I CAN’T REPLY, JUST PUBLISH.)

[sassenashsworld]

if you get this answer with your top 5 music artists and send it to the last 7 people in your notifications 👍

Aye!!

Bruno Mars

The Ink Spot

The Beatles

Nahko Bear

... ... ... Imagine Dragon

[spiriteddreams]

Hi Spirit :unless: For your autumnal ask game — fireside, bonfire, cranberry <3

IRYTH :D

fireside - if you had your dream wardrobe, what would it look like? answered that here hehe

bonfire - describe your dream house. oh gosh this was hard... somewhere not in a busy city, but somewhat close by. some place that feels warm with tons of books, it smells of coffee or tea, is studio ghibli esque and is perfect for writing and baking!

cranberry - what’s one physical feature that you get complimented on? my hair hehe! i recently changed my hairstyle and i feel a lot better about it too!

[doyoulikethissong-poll]

The Cranberries - Zombie 1994

"Zombie" is a protest song by Irish alternative rockband the Cranberries. It was written by the lead singer, Dolores O'Riordan, about the young victims of a bombing in Warrington, England, during the Troubles in Northern Ireland. The song was released on 19 September 1994 as the lead single from the Cranberries' second studio album, No Need to Argue. While the record label feared releasing a too controversial and politically charged song as a single, "Zombie" reached number 1 on the charts of Australia, Belgium, Denmark, Germany, and Iceland, and spent nine consecutive weeks at number 1 on the French SNEP Top 100. It reached number 2 on the Ö3 Austria Top 40, where it stayed for eight weeks. The song did not chart on the US Billboard Hot 100 chart as it wasn't released as a single there, but it reached number 1 on the US Billboard Alternative Airplay chart. Listeners of the Australian radio station Triple J voted it number 1 on the 1994 Triple J Hottest 100 chart, and it won the Best Song Award at the 1995 MTV Europe Music Awards.

The Troubles were a conflict in Northern Ireland from the late 1960s to 1998. The Provisional Irish Republican Army (IRA), an Irish republican paramilitary organisation, waged an armed campaign to end British rule in Northern Ireland and unite the region with the Republic of Ireland. Republican and Unionist paramilitaries killed more than 3,500 people, many from thousands of bomb attacks. One of the bombings happened on 30 March 1993, as two IRA improvised explosive devices hidden in litter bins were detonated in a shopping street in Warrington, England. Two people; Johnathan Ball, aged 3, and Tim Parry, aged 12, were killed in the attack. 56 people were injured. Ball died at the scene of the bombing as a result of his shrapnel-inflicted injuries, and five days later, Parry lost his life in a hospital as a result of head injuries. O'Riordan decided to write a song that reflected upon the event and the children's deaths after visiting the town: "We were on a tour bus and I was near the location where it happened, so it really struck me hard – I remember being devastated about the innocent children being pulled into that kind of thing. So I suppose that's why I was saying, 'It's not me' – that even though I'm Irish it wasn't me, I didn't do it. Because being Irish, it was quite hard, especially in the UK when there was so much tension." The song was re-popularised in 2023 after it was played after Ireland games at the 2023 Rugby World Cup. It was picked up by fans of the Irish team, with videos of fans singing the song in chorus accumulating hundreds of thousands of views on social media. This offended other Irishmen, who identified it as an "anti-IRA" anthem, and said that that the lyrics failed to consider their experience during the Troubles.

The music video, directed by Samuel Bayer, was filmed in Belfast, Northern Ireland, in the heart of the Troubles with real footage, and in Dublin. To record video footage of murals, children and British Army soldiers on patrol, he had a false pretext, with a cover story about making a documentary about the peace-keeping efforts in Ireland. Bayer stated that a shot in the video where an SA80 rifle is pointed directly at the camera is a suspicious British soldier asking him to leave, and that the IRA were keeping a close look at the shoot, given "the British Army come in with fake film crews, getting people on camera.” While "Zombie" received heavy rotation on MTV Europe and was A-listed on Germany's VIVA, the music video was banned by the BBC because of its "violent images", and by the RTÉ, Ireland's national broadcaster. Instead, both the BBC and the RTÉ opted to broadcast an edited version focusing on footage of the band in a live performance, a version that the Cranberries essentially disowned. Despite their efforts to maintain the original video "out of view from the public", some of the initial footage prevailed, with scenes of children holding guns. In March 2003, on the eve of the outbreak of the Iraq War, the British Government and the Independent Television Commission issued a statement saying ITC's Programme Code would temporarily remove from broadcast songs and music videos featuring "sensitive material", including "Zombie". Numerous media groups complied with the decision to avoid "offending public feeling", along with MTV Europe. Since it violated the ITC guidelines, "Zombie" was placed on a blacklist of songs, targeting its official music video. The censorship was lifted once the war had ended. In April 2020, it became the first song by an Irish group to surpass one billion views on Youtube.

"Zombie" received a total of 91% yes votes!

[tobeholyistobeempty]

Just a very short word vomit as I have spent far too long thinking about Captain Price faking an injury just to see his favourite doctor.

————————-

John Price has got years on him.

Enough to know how to play the game. Enough to know how to work the system just a little in his favour. Life experience has given him knowledge, skill, but it’s also given him something a little worse — something that creeps out into the lines around his eyes, the grey peppering his beard, the way he carries himself like he’s lived through every war this world has to offer — lets him move like he’s still in the trenches, like he hasn’t left them even when the fight is over.

Assurance.

It’s practically pouring out of his pores as you rush in — frantic as ever given the late hour and the way your assistant was practically sobbing over the supposed state of him — all to find the man sitting on the stretcher, looking right as rain save for the crimson coating his chest.

At first glance you gather it’s not all his, or at least, not much of it. The dark stain coats his sleeve, a cranberry smear streaking up his neck, lost in the shadow of his collar. You hardly realize you’re just silently staring until he exhales through his nose, amusement seeping somewhere between the showcased exhaustion.

“Y’alright, love?”

You blink. Then scoff. He’s asking you if you’re alright?

“You’re the one bleeding on my floor.”

Price hums, pushing off the stretcher to stand, shrugging off his vest with a wince that looks a little like it’s more for show than anything else.

“Y’gonna patch me up, or just stand there lookin’ pretty?”

That gets your attention. Assured. Typical Price but unusual given the circumstances. You’ve seen enough shot soldiers to know the last thing he should be doing right now is dotting.

Your eyes narrow as you grab for the med kit, pulling it open with a snap. “You actually get shot, or just feeling homesick?”

His lips twitch, but he doesn’t answer. Instead, he just watches, waves rocking in the depths of his eyes as you reach for his sleeve, steady fingers brushing blood-stiff fabric. Somewhere between searching for the wound and noticing the lack of bloodshed, you falter — because something isn’t adding up, because you’ve treated enough wounds to know when someone is worse off than they let on, and Price — despite the mess of him, isn’t nearly as injured as he’d told your team he was.

And judging by the way he smiles, he knows you’ve figured it out.

“John.” You wish you sounded more stern, but that cursed thing on his lips is contagious, and he’s given it to you like the plague. “You’re not hurt.”

A beat. Then, he tilts his head, meeting your eyes.

“No,” he admits. “M’not.”

[thaatdigitaldiary]

JADED. 01. | ⌗ 4.1K WORDS. | PAIGE BUECKERS.

╰ the backstory of sareli and paige, how they met—and what got their “love story” started.

➺ content warnings. sexual contents. uconn!paige. fem!oc. fingering. oral. competitive sex. alcohol consumption. nipple play. very little spanish dialogue. AND AS ALWAYS, LIVE REACTS ARE WELCOME!

➺ links. JADED MASTERLIST. | MAIN MASTERLIST.

➺ from ke, to you 📨. i finally got around to writing part one! i’m gonna be completely honest, this whole series will not be back to back. it’s summer and i’m about to be a busy woman, but being consistent is a goal of mine! by all means no update asks please☹️it’s suuuper pressuring and i wanna take my time so you enjoy this as much as i do. i wanted at least one part out for you guys to get the gist of everything, so enjoy!!

STORRS, EARLY 2024

The air in the frat house was thick with the scent of beer, weed, and way too many bodies packed into one space. The party was jumping—one of the girls from a nearby sorority playing her spotify playlist through the speakers, the bass so heavy it rattled the solo cups stacked on every surface.

Sareli was in a good mood, moving through the crowd like she owned it. Her tight leather skirt hugged her curves, the hem riding up her thighs as she danced, every sway of her hips drawing more and more eyes from across the room.

Sareli thrived off of this shit—the energy, the attention, the way people gravitated toward her without even trying. Extroverted didn't even cover it; Sareli was like a spark that kept nights like this alive.

"Yo, Reli! That's yo' fourth! I'm cutting you off!" Kameron screams over the music, as Sareli twirled with a drink in hand--vodka cranberry, the ice clinking against the plastic.

"Kameron, un par de tragos no me haran dano!"

"What that mean again?" Kameron yells across the floor, cupping her hands to make her voice louder.

"A couple drinks won't hurt me, Kameron."

"Full government is crazy." Kameron says, laughing, as she makes her way to the half-assed bar the frat house came up with.

Sareli threw her head back, laughing, mid-spin when her elbow smashed something solid.

The cup tipped, and a cold wave of crimson splashed across a pristine white jacket. Sareli stumbled, catching herself, and whipped around to see who fucked her flow up.

"Man, what the hell?" The voice was sharp, cutting through all the noise.

Paige Bueckers— basketball prodigy, stalky and sharp cheekboned—stood there, glaring down at Sareli. Her blonde hair was pulled into a a ponytail, lacking the braids she wore every single game. It flowed down her back, ends a little bit darker from her previous hair color collaborations.

Her eyes were locked on the wet stain spreading across her jacket. She brushed at it with her hand, smearing the red deeper into the fabric.

"You blind? Or just too faded to watch where you swingin' them elbows?"

Sareli smirked, unbothered, brushing a curl off of her shoulder with a flick of her wrist. "Maybe if you weren't standing inna middle of a function doing jack shit, I wouldn't have spilled anything," Sareli gestured at the mess, then at the chaos around her.

"You can easily just move."

Paige scoffed, stepping closer, her height giving her that small addition she loved to flex. She towered over Sareli, just enough to seem intimidating, her presence all cocky and unshakeable.

"Aw, okay, you got jokes nd' shit? Jacket's worth more than this cheap-ass leather skirt you spillin' shit all over the place in."

"Stick to sippin' sum' slight if you can't handle the real shit."

Sareli laughed, loud and mocking, tipping her head back so her earrings caught the light. "I see those NIL deals got somebody feelin' brand new?" She mocks, waving her now empty cup in Paige's face, the last drops dripping onto the sticky floor.

"And since you ruined my drink, you owe me a refill. Since you got money nd' shit."

Paige rolled her eyes, but a smirk tugged at her lips, that signature arrogance she was known for peeking through.

"Owe you? Ah nah, you're the one who fucked my jacket up." Paige says, her eyes narrowing.

"You should be on your knees thanking me for not makin' you lick this shit off."

She held up the soaked sleeve, shaking it for emphasis, but her tone was lighter now, the edge softening.

The tension hung there for a beat—petty, electric, and kind of hot when they both thought about it. They both cracked at the same time--Paige with a low chuckle, Sareli with a grin that showed she wasn't backing down.

It wasn't that serious.

Paige shrugged off the jacket, tossing it over a chair like it was nothing, leaving her in a fitted black tank that clung to her frame, showing off those toned arms she'd earned from hours on the court.

Sareli caught herself staring, just for a second, but Paige clocked it immediately, arching a brow.

"What? You checkin' me out now, or you mad you can't pull sum' like this off?" Paige's voice was purely hypnotic, dripping with the confidence she carried.

Sareli stepped closer, closing the gap, her own confidence matching Paige's, step for step. "I pull off everything, thank you. You're staring now, been peeped." Sareli tilts her head, letting her eyes linger on Paige's lips before flicking them back up to meet her gaze.

It was as if the air shifted—less bickering, more heat. The music faded into a dull roar as Paige's eyes dropped to Sareli's mouth, then snapped back up, a challenge sparking between them.

"Bet I could shut that smart-ass mouth up real quick," Paige muttered, voice low and rough, like she was daring Sareli to push her.

"Bet you couldn't," Sareli shot back, smirking. "But I'm really tryna' see you attempt to."

FIVE MINUTES LATER, Sareli and Paige made it upstairs, the party a muffled pulse beneath their feet. Paige had Sareli pinned against the door of some random bedroom, their lips crashing with the hunger of someone who hated losing.

Paige tasted like tequila, her tongue staking claim as her hands gripped Sareli's hips pressing harder into the wood.

Sareli kissed her back just as hard, not giving an inch, nipping at her bottom lip hard enough to make Paige growl low in her throat.

"Fuck, you were such a bitch to me," Paige breathed, pulling back just enough to yank Sareli's skirt down. The leather bunched near her thighs, exposing the black lace thong she'd thrown on for the night.

Paige's fingers hooked into the waistband, teasing the edge before shoving it aside with zero patience.

"Let's see how long this pussy lasts before you're beggin' me to slow down."

Sareli laughed, all breathy and defiant, as Paige's fingers slid inside of her—two at once, curling deep and fast. "Shit... two off rip?" Sareli gasped, head tipping back against the door, but she wasn't about to let Paige work her over that easily.

Sareli's hands roamed on Paige's chest, slipping under her tank to find her nipples, rolling them between her fingers until she hissed, her breath catching.

"We makin' this sum' typa' game?" Paige grunted, her pace picking up, thumb brushing Sareli's clit in tight, ruthless circles. She was relentless, that cocky smirk widening as Sareli's hips bucked against her hand.

"Ima' have you screamin' my name in, like, two minutes flat."

"Time me."

"You're a cocky bitch, y'know that?" Sareli managed, voice breaking as Paige hit that spot that made her knees weak.

Sareli wasn't folding yet. She tugged her closer by the neckline of her tank, sucking on her neck hard enough to leave a bruise she'd have to explain later.

"Bet I can make you cum faster—watch me."

Paige laughed, that competitive side slowly darkening. She used her free hand to grip Sareli's jaw and tilt it back herself. "Prove that shit then, beautiful. But you tappin' out first—I can feel it."

Her fingers moved faster, so slick and precise, making Sareli curse under her breath, the heat building too quick to ignore.

Sareli's orgasm hit like a freight train—hard and fast, thighs trembling as she clenched around Paige's fingers.

"Mmph—Fuck!" She yelped, slamming her hand against the door as her body shook. Paige pulled out slow, licking her fingers clean with smug-ass grin, like she'd just dropped thirty points in a blowout.

"What I tell you," she taunted, wiping her hand on her jeans. "One minute fifty-two. Now, you try."

Sareli didn't waste a second. She shoved Paige's back onto the bed, straddling her hips, and popping the button on her jeans—sliding them down just enough to get what she wanted.

Paige watched her, arms behind her head, all cocky until Sareli's fingers slipped inside of her—slow at first, teasing, then picking up speed. She mirrored Paige's earlier move, thumb circling her clit, watching her abs flex as she fought to keep up the nonchalant persona.

"Mm.. shit. Y-you're pretty good," she groaned, but her voice was tight, that bravado cracking. Sareli leaned down, sucking one of Paige's nipples through her tank, teeth grazing just enough to make her arch into Sareli, her hips subtly grinding into her hand.

"Gonna beat your record," Sareli whispered against her skin, curling her fingers deeper. Paige's breath hitched, hands fisting the sheets, and Sareli could tell she was losing it.

"Ah, fuck—shit—fuck, I'm—" Paige didn't finish, her body doing the talking, shuddering as she came undone in under a minute.

Sareli smirked, pulling back to meet her dazed eyes, her chest heaving.

"I'm guessing that means I win?" Sareli said, voice dripping with cockiness.

"Fifty-three seconds, Paige. Step that game up."

Paige laughed, breathless, sitting up to grab Sareli's waist and flip her onto her back in one smooth move.

"Nah, we're going best two outta three."

"And I don't plan on losing this time."

THE ROOM WAS A MESS, clothes half-on, sheets twisted, the faint hum of the party still seeping through the floorboards. Paige hovered over Sareli, her tank shoved up to her collarbone, jeans still clinging to her thighs.

She was all heated, her skin slick with sweat, and that cocky grin was back, and sharper than ever. "Round two, pretty. You finna eat the fuck outta your words, too."

Sareli propped herself on her elbows, still buzzing from her win, her skirt a crumpled heap at her ankles.

"Only thing I'm eating is this ego you got. C'mon."

Paige didn't waste time, sliding her hand between Sareli's thighs, her touch rougher this time, more determined. "You talk a big game, but your legs won't stop shakin', baby," she muttered, her lips brushing Sareli's ear as her fingers pumped inside of her, so, so, deep. Her thumb flicked Sareli's clit with precision, and she cursed, hips jerking despite herself.

"Shut the fuck up," Sareli shot back, but it came out a weak laugh, her breath hitching as Paige pressed harder. Sareli's hands scrambled for leverage, finding Paige's waist, tugging her closer.

Sareli slipped her fingers under Paige's waistband again, matching her pace, determined to keep up.

"You're sweating already, don't choke up on me."

Paige smirked, her free hand pinning Sareli's wrist above her head, that dominance peering through.

"Choke? This just the beginning, baby. You're the one finna tap out—look at this pussy. Fuckin' dripping."

Her voice was gravelly, that mix of arrogance and lust made Sareli's stomach do back flips.

Paige wasn't wrong—Sareli was close, too close, the heat coiling tight in her core. She wasn't going down without some kind of fight.

Sareli twisted her fingers inside of Paige, hitting that spot that made her falter, her grip on Sareli's wrist loosening for a split second.

"Yeah? Then why you moanin', P?" Sareli taunted, voice strained but smug.

It was a race now--the both of them pushing, pulling, chasing that edge. Paige's fingers were relentless, her breath hot against Sareli's neck as she muttered, "Give it up. C'mon, baby... y'know I gotchu'."

Sareli's vision blurred, thighs clamping around Paige's hand as she shattered again, a choked "Shit!" spilling from her lips.

Paige didn't stop, riding Sareli through it, that smirk plastered on her face.

"One minute ten. You're slacking, mama."

Paige pulled her hand free, sucking her fingers clean again, eyes locked on Sareli's like she was daring her to do better.

Sareli shoved her back, chest heaving, and climbed on top, straddling her waist. "My turn."

Her fingers dove back inside of Paige, three this time, stretching her out as she worked her over, thumb grinding against her clit. She bucked against Sareli, a low groan escaping her lips, but she still remained cocky, grabbing Sareli's hips to steady herself.

"Fuck, you're insane," Paige panted, but her smirk was slipping, her abs tightening as Sareli pushed her closer. Sareli leaned down, sucking Paige's nipple hard through the fabric, biting just enough to make her hiss. "Shit... okay, shit—I'm close," she admitted, voice breaking.

"Sabes que te encanta esto, baby," Sareli teased, curling her fingers faster.

"Tell me what it means before I cum." Paige hissed.

"You know you love this."

Paige came undone with a sharp cry, head thrown back, body trembling under Sareli. She timed it in her head—forty-eight seconds.

"Beat you again," Sareli grinned, pulling back to catch her breath.

Paige sat up, hair a mess, eyes dark with that competitive fire still burning.

"Round three," she rasped, flipping Sareli on her stomach before she could argue. She pressed her against her back, her hand slipping between Sareli's legs from behind, fingers sliding in with ease.

"I'm winning this one."

Sareli moaned into the pillow, pushing back against her, but Paige had the upper hand now, her weight keeping Sareli pinned. Her other hand reached around, tweaking Sareli's nipple hard, sending sparks down her spine. "Fuck... Paige, slow down—" Sareli gasped, but Paige's movements didn't falter. Her pace was brutal, and her breath was hot against her ear.

"Nah, take this shit," Paige growled, her thumb finding Sareli's clit again. "Finna show you how to win sum'."

Sareli didn't last—thirty seconds, maybe less, her whole body seizing as she came again, louder this time, face buried in the sheets. Paige laughed, pulling her slender fingers out slow and flopping beside Sareli, the both of them wrecked.

"You wanna call that shit a tie?" Sareli mumbled, still catching her breath.

Paige grinned, wiping the sweat from your forehead. "Well, one—only if you let me see you again—and two, you let me run that shit back."

"Got it."

"Put your number in right quick, me and my friends headin' out soon."

Sareli put her number in and got dressed, watching Paige's muscles flex as she buttoned her jeans back up.

"I'ma be seein' you, yeah?" Paige asks, biting her bottom lip.

"You will be."

And with that she left, closing the door behind herself.

SARELI WALKED DOWN the house's steps, meeting a very sober and confused Kameron.

"Yo, where you been at? I've searched this bougie ass house for an hour." Kameron says, crossing her arms.

"Bathroom line. Long." Sareli blurts out, plastering a fake smile on her face—knowing her best friend could see right through it.

"Your skirt's inside out, Reli."

Sareli looks down, so high off of her current situation to notice the leather fabric touching the inside of her thighs.

"I, uhm—“

"Sareli Vasquez. Don't play me like I'm slow. Who'd you hookup with?" Kameron uncrosses her arms.

"Alright, alright, relax. I bumped into Paige, and it became this whole thing—and boom, we fucked."

"Jesus, Reli. Hooking up with an athlete gotta be top ten worst things you could've ever done." Kameron says chuckling, but something was slightly off about her voice.

"It was... something. Told me she wanted to see me again, too." Sareli adds, a small grin snaking across her face.

"Oh, yeah—t-that's cool shit, Reli." Kameron mutters, her voice a softer tone now. "Was she um... good?"

"Better than good." Sareli brags.

"You ready to go? Party's dead." Sareli asks, not even attempting to fix her skirt, just ready to go home and boast to Paige about how she’d “get her next time”.

"Y-yeah—we can go. Glad you had fun." Kameron laughs dryly, her entire face dropping with disappointment.

Not that Sareli would notice anymore.

Or did she?

╰ ⌗ tags : @pboogerswbb @cherryswisherz @mariahthealchemist @sierrale8ne @janaelalfysblunt @bueckersbitch @lovegalor333 @juspeaks @flipthepaige @omg-imtumbling @lilpaigeyherbo @mrsarnold @wbbgetsmewetter @lupinqs @linebg0 @authentic-girl03 @melpthatsme @makethemhoesmad @ashortyluvsports @paigesbabygirl @d3arapril @slut4uconnwbb @avvwritesstufff @xoxosierralane @vamptizm @pb524830 @uwupaige @naeswrrldd @paigebaby5 @ohmybueckers @azziswrld @noisygemini777 @angryflowerwitch @everyonewatchesuconnwbb @jieysiee @forward1212 @jadasogay

[bunny-jpeg]

shut up and put your money where your mouth is

max verstappen

tags: smut/pwp, driver!reader, rivals au, bickering/fighting, married in vegas, drinking, doggy style, rough sex, dirty talk, hangovers, 2.5k words

a/n: happy las vegas gp everyone!

wheel to wheel. toe to toe. cheek to cheek.

this was the dance you did with the three time world champion. the rivalry that put mclaren and red bull up against one another. and in the lead up to the las vegas grand prix, it was you and max's world and everyone else was just living in it.

"you should smile more." he said at the bar in one of the casinos on the strip. he pinched your cheek and you wanted to bite him.

you replied shortly, "i'll smile when you give me something to smile about. don't think i forgot the last race." you were barely edging max in points with the season wrapping up.

he just smiled, "i know you'll be smiling when i bring it all home in a few weeks. don't you worry." then pinched your cheek once more.

damn max verstappen.

the rivarly started years ago. max was the youngest rookie and you were a few months older than him. along with being the first female in far too long. the hype around your arrivals to the sport caused you two to step on each other's toes. both of you felt an overbearing responsibility to be the best. your father breathed down your neck on the track just as much as max's did down his.

and even after years in the game, you were both painfully in each other's orbit. so much so that your dear teammate oscar once said, "i'm pretty sure if you two weren't in formula one you'd be married by now!"

you replied with a laugh, "oh please, i'd never! not in a million years." but last vegas was the city of opportunity, and before an exciting weekend you went out for a few drinks with your rival. and as much as the city has opportunity, it was still sin city.

enough gin and tonics for max to feel a little more relaxed. and enough cranberry-vodkas to leave you feeling warm all over. what sent you over the edge with him was his flushed face and him undoing the first few buttons of his shirt. your eyes raked over his almost exposed collarbones and you shifted in your seat.

you swallowed and took another hearty drink, which only fueled a sexual fire in your belly. you felt something hot run through you at the sight of him. you looked away to try and not think too hard about it. you played with the gold chain around your neck.

max leaned forward and narrowed his eyes at your neck, "did i buy that for you?" he put his arms on the table and his expression was drunken as he said, "wearing what i bought you?" he laughed, "if i know you'd wear it. i would've bought you a ring."

you felt heat rise in your cheeks more, "i think people would get the wrong idea. we're supposed to hate each other. the headlines would be insane, max verstappen buys ring for his rival."

he chuckled, "well, you are my favourite." he swallowed and darted his gaze quickly, "my favourite rival." then took another hearty sip of his drink.

you licked your lips, "just a rival?" you asked softly. the liquor emboldened you and you let go of your necklace. in a moment of weakness you reached for his hand and asked, "not even friends?"

max swallowed, "not friends."

you felt ice wash through your core at his words. a tightness in your chest prevented any words from coming out.

max realized in his drunken haze that he only said half of the sentence. when you pulled your hand away, he was desperate to grab it back. shock crossed his expression, "no, no! not like that!" liquid courage made him say the words, "not a friend. a lover."

the words tumbled out of your mouth, "verstappen... i'm saying this on the most certain terms... take me. fuck me. do whatever you want to me." you swallowed.

-

you held the trophy over your head. you beamed with pride after your country's national anthem. you did it, you won the first race of many. as max then sprayed you with champagne, there was a single thing on his mind.

you'd be his one day.

-

you made it to the elevator with max in tow. you were headed to his room. you held his shoulders who he held you to kiss you deeply.

"as good at kissing as you are at racing." you giggled.

"oh, are you giving me a compliment? never heard that before." he smiled at you. he had you by the waist.

"don't get used to it. if you don't make me cum, then i'll never let you live it down." you held his face for a moment, "i will tell everyone that the great max verstappen can't make a woman cum."

he pressed you further against the wall of the elevator, "oh don't worry, i'll make you feel good."

the elevator dinged and you both stumbled out of it. max trapped you against the door while he loomed over you and tried to open it. it was hard to kiss your heated skin and open a door at the same time. on top of being drunk.

"focus on one thing." you groaned.

"if i do then i'll be fucking you in the hallway. and wouldn't that be the scandal of the season." his words struck something in you and when the door was opened, you were pushed inside.

when you caught your footing, you got your heels off. max wrapped his arms around your waist and picked you up. while you weren't stick thing (couldn't be in formula one, not with all that force), but max was simply stronger. he got you both over to the bedroom before he cornered you. you squirmed and he said, "stop moving or i'll drop you." and soon got you onto the king sized hotel bed.

he undid al the bottoms of the shirt and got his belt off as well, he stripped those from himself along with his slacks. in just an undershirt and his briefs in the end, he got onto the bed with you. the dress would've been torn off of you if you weren't fast enough. max groaned when he shoved his face between your soon bare breasts.

"just like i imagined." he groaned. his hands were at the waistband of your panties, "fuck. i need more." and while he got your panties off, you got your bra off.

"you really are excited." you shuddered as your hand up under his shirt. his shoulders were framed by the straps of the undershirt. he looked a little more domineering, which only raised the heat in your body.

"how could i not be? look at you!" he purred before he got the white undershirt off along with his dark briefs.

both of you were naked and tumbled fully onto the bed together. you kissed him once more until you ended up on your stomach with your face in the pillows. max admired your strong back. being a driver meant exhibiting a strength which you presented in spades. strong in so many ways, which was an aspect that pulled max in.

enamored was a term he could use. but that implied it was casual, but max's feelings were far from casual. you were next to the blood in his veins. the spark in his life, the heat in his soul.

he lined his cock up against your soaked cunt. he felt drawn to you, like a siren's call. he couldn't help it, he had been needing this for a long, long time. he sank into you and you felt the excitement of pleasure rush through you as you laid out in the bed.

"at least a decade in the making." he groaned, "ten years, ten years i've been wanting you." he felt a moan leave his lips. two drunks fucking in an expensive hotel room. two multi-million dollar drivers rutted together with a hot passion between you two.

"fuck, don't make me feel old." you buried your face further into the covers and arched your back further. pleasure bloomed through you. you could never truly hate max. it wasn't in you.

max leaned in to kiss you on the centre of your back as he moved against you. his hot breath against you warm back, he felt the thrill of pleasure as he worked you slick cunt. your pussy felt like a dream, while drunk, you still felt perfect. you let out a soft moan as he moved.

"fuck."

"please, max."

"i know."

you were near certain that this was what the entire grid was hoping for. you knew that people shipped you two together. you see the edits, the reddit threads, the fan art, the fan fiction. and you knew the paddock talked.

you gripped the soft pillow under your face and you whined a little bit. the wooden headboard rocked against the white wall of the bedroom. you hoped that checo's room wasn't on the other side. you'd never hear the end of it.

max wrapped his strong arms around your middle and continued to fuck you. he moved against you. his cock bullied against your g-spot and you were left breathless. you wanted him, you wanted him in ways you never thought you'd ever admit.

max lit a fire in you. to push yourself harder an further, you were only as strong as your ability to match max. and your rival made you the best. you clutched onto the pillow and felt a stagger in your heart. your mind was filled with pleasure, but also the liquor. in some way, vodka only made things feel more intense.

you felt it race through your body as the two of you fucked on the soft bed. the slogan from vegas was true, anyone could get lucky here. and you got rather lucky with max.

he held onto you tighter, his strong arm around your middle as he rutted against you. it was a protective feeling to you and you loved the feeling. you guessed that he was a protective force in your life, no one bothered you with max around.

you hissed into the pillow and you felt the surge of intense want. this was a feeling you wanted to feel again, again, and again. you held on tightly and the immense heat just dragged you into the depths of pleasure.

"please, max. i want you. fuck, i didn't know i could want a rival so badly. you're as much in my soul as the engine of my car. ever since we met, i knew you'd be a force in my life. i need you more than i need anyone else. fuck." you rambled, muffled by the covers, and max loved it.

you were always delicate with your words and to hear profanity leave your lips so freely made max run hotter. the way you spoke as you lost all rationality in your head.

he had an effect on you, even on the grid and you wanted to kill him. you never did, not when he looked at you with those beautiful blue eyes. he was your weakness, hence why you were rivals. the pleasure continued to mount, the feeling was electric. it made you hold on tightly, your back arched as he worked your body. you felt on cloud nine, not a care in the world. the want rolled through you and you moaned his name out loud once more.

"fuck, max!" you came around his cock with your nails dug into the pillow. he pressed himself up against your back and continued to fuck you with a feverish face.

the bed creaked under the both of you and the over stimulation made your head swim. you felt the heavy rush and he only kept moving against you. sweaty chest up against your sweaty back. thrusting against you, the pleasure built up in his brain.

the pleasure reached its peak and max slammed his cock as deep into you. he tried to get as deep as he could get and it made you climax once more. he rode out his orgasm, and soon he slowed to a stop. he felt racing in his chest. he wiped sweat from his forehead then kissed your back.

"max."

he pulled out and laid out next to you. he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close to his chest. he peppered your face with sloppy kisses and you melted at his tender touch. even with his caring touch, his words caught you off guard, "fuck, let's get married."

and as you got lost in his eyes, you nodded, "sure."

-

the sun come morning burned and you turned over to look away from the window. you cracked open your eyes and the hangover weighed on you like a heavy blanket. you were met face to face with max, who was asleep beside you.

your eyes went wide and you pulled away from him. your chest tightened as you pulled the sheets closer to your chest. your heart leapt and you swallowed. when you looked down at your shaky hands, you saw a ring at your left hand. a shocked noise left your lips at the sight of it.

the ring was a gold band with a small diamond. you swallowed, there was no doubt what it was. you got very drunk and you got married. a nagging feeling of who you married was soon answered when you saw max shift and he had a matching gold band on his ring finger.

this was only confirmed when you opened instagram. and the post you were greeted with was of your hastily put together wedding. you looked happy as you kissed him. it felt like the rest of the platform was in a tizzy over this sudden wedding.

a sports reporting outlet had the caption, "mclaren's princess has tamed the bull!!" with a photo of you at the alter, your lips against max's. the next post read, "verstappen ties the knot with long time rival before the las vegas grand prix." you stomach sank and the reality was a cold splash of water.

post after post, reactions from what felt like everyone. you only came back to focus when you felt max's arm drape around your waist.

"max, we're in trouble..." you swallowed.

he slowly opened his eyes. he held onto you tightly for a moment before he kissed at your side. his expression was dreamy, still asleep as he let go of you. his expression changed suddenly when he noticed the ring on his finger. his eyes went wide before he took your hand and saw your ring.

"oh..."

"max, say something." you tried again, your voice tight. you felt the immense anxiety through you. what would the fia say? what would the press say? what would every other goddamn driver say?

it was bad enough people speculated for years about you two, but to have it come to reality was terrifying. but max didn't seem as scared as you.

he looked at you, only to shift closer. he kissed your side once more then said, "well, good morning then, mrs. verstappen." <3

[areseebee]

Oooh!! An ask game!!! How about 16? Or maybe 2? I’ll let you have final say 🤩

well, needless to say, i got carried away.

cranberries ask game

[iheartsophie]

DRUNK IN LOVE | george clarke

^ྀི pairing: George Clarke x fem!reader

^ྀི genre: real life, smau, established!relationship

^ྀི context: y/n joins the boys in a video of pub golf and george ends up getting serenaded by the end of it

^ྀི warnings: nothing the im aware of.. drinking maybe?

^ྀི sophie speaks!: i literally speed ran to get this finished, because of that there may be some mistakes. i have proof read but there might still be some lingering in there.. I HOPE YOU ENJOY!!

You weren’t even supposed to be in the video.

When George asked if you wanted to tag along to the Pub Golf shoot, you hesitated. You’d seen some of the chaos from their previous drinking videos — someone always ends up shirtless, someone else always ends up injuring themselves . But George gave you that look, the one with the half-smirk and the eyebrow raise, and next thing you knew, you were pre-gaming in a Wetherspoons booth while Chris explained the scoring system with the intensity of a police sergeant .

“I give her three holes before she’s gone,” Harry muttered to Chip, who let out a cackle.

George chuckled, wrapping an arm around your waist. “She’s got a decent tolerance. You’ll be surprised.”

You tilted your chin proudly. “I’m not that much of a light weight guys, come on now.”

Arthur Hill leaned over the table with a grin. “Famous last words.”

The first pub was easy. A cider. Score: par 4, you drank it in three sips. The boys nodded in approval. The second pub. Tequila shots. You took yours without blinking, while Chris gagged over a lime wedge.

Third pub? Some kind of horrific layered cocktail that tasted like poison. You swayed slightly, laughed a little louder than usual, and George was starting to take notice of your behavior but decided to just keep an eye on you for now. By the fourth stop, things started to shift.

“Y/N,” George said quietly as you downed a vodka-cranberry like it was water, “maybe you slow down a bit, yeah?”

“Why?” you grinned, your cheeks flushed, “I’m smashing it.”

“You’re wasted, babe.”

You poked his broad chest, grinning. “Jealous I’m doing better than you?”

He gave you a look. The soft, worried kind that made your stomach flip — as if it weren’t already doing that from the cheap, sickly-sweet mixers.

“You sure you don’t wanna sit this one out? I’ll call us an Uber.”

You grabbed his hand, lacing your fingers through his. “George. I love you. But if you try to take me home, I will deadass hide in the loos and climb out a window.”

Arthur TV overheard and burst out laughing, nearly choking on his pint. “George can’t even control his own girlfriend. Amazing.”

George sighed, kissed your forehead, and muttered something about “making sure you drink water next round.” But you were already halfway to the next pub.

By the time the eighth and final pub rolled around, most of the boys were pacing themselves. George had sobered up just enough to keep an eye on you, but you? You were dancing. Singing an acoustic rendition of Levitating by Dua Lipa that would most definitely get Chris copyrighted.

“Y/N, come on, we’re finishing up,” George coaxed, gently guiding you toward the group.

“I’m not done yet!” you whined, clutching a martini like it was a precious artifact.

“Babe. The pub golf is literally over.”

“Oh.”

You blinked, then giggled, letting him wrap an arm around your waist as the crew made their way out into the cool night.

The walk to the train station should’ve been uneventful.

But as fate would have it, the group passed by a club blaring music through open windows. Beyoncé’s Drunk in Love filled the street, bass thumping through the pavement.

You gasped, dramatically placing a hand on George’s cheek as he carried you bridal-style down the street.

“I’ve been drinking… I’ve been drinkiiiing,” you started to sing, voice shaky and off-key.

George laughed, struggling not to drop you. “Oh god.”

The boys lost it.

Arthur Hill already had his phone out. “This is going straight to the group chat.”

“No,” George groaned, “not Instagram—”

“Too late!” Harry whooped, posting a story of you clutching George’s neck, serenading him as if you were on The Voice and this was your final audition.

“GEORGIE, I’M DRUNK IN LOOOOOVE,” you belted, raising your arms dramatically, almost smacking Chip in the face as he tried to duck out of frame.

THE NEXT MORNING

You woke up to two things: a raging headache, and George snoring softly beside you, his arm draped around your waist.

Your phone buzzed non-stop. Instagram notifications flooded in.

@/wroetoshaw posted a story: “She’s a menace 😭”

@/arthurtv posted a story: “Y/N’s X-Factor audition in the middle of Soho 💀”

@/theburntchip posted a story: “Drunk in love is CRAZY”

You opened one clip and saw yourself singing dramatically to George, who looked somewhere between amused and mortified. Your head hit the pillow with a groan.

“George,” you whispered.

“Mmm?” he mumbled sleepily.

“Did I… did I sing last night?”

He cracked an eye open. “You were Beyoncé and Jay-Z all in one.”

You buried your face in your hands. “I wanna disappear.”

George grinned, pulling you closer. “You were iconic. Don’t worry. Everyone loved it.”

Still, you needed some redemption.

You searched for the you two took when you were at the beach. You were both dancing and the sunset in the background created the effect of you both being silhouettes.

You opened Instagram, attached the photo, and captioned it:

liked by, georgeclarkey and 465,899 others

@/youruser: i can confirm, i am drunk in love❤️🍸

Almost immediately, the replies flooded in.

@/wroetoshaw: REDEMPTION ARC 😭

@/chrismd: this is the romcom we never knew we needed

@/arthurtv: legendary behavior

@/maxbalegde: mum and dad are so in love

@/georgeclarkey: Next time I’m the one getting carried.

You smiled, curled into George’s chest, and whispered to yourself,

“Worth the hangover.”

[wroetominter]

Platform Roulette - George Clarke

In which George and Y/n are good friends, and she tags along for a platform roulette video.

Pairing: George x Fem Reader

Warnings: none, fluff.

"And today, we have a special guest appearance, Y/n!" Arthur Hill introduced me to his video.

"Am I not also a special guest?" George questioned Arthur.

"Get out of my spotlight Clarkey" I snapped back, pushing him to the side and striking a pose in front of the camera. This earned a laugh from the two boys.

"As always, Arthur is running late, but as soon as he is here we will let him choose a number between one and ten to find out where we are going today.

As if on cue, Arthur strolled up to the group. "Hello everyone!" He said excitedly.

"About time mate," George said. Arthur rolled his eyes at him, looking over to Hill for his question.

"You know the drill, choose a number between one and ten Arthur"

After all too much deliberation, Arthur chose 6.

"Manchester!" I exclaimed, looking at the board.

"Bloody hell, this is going to be a long trip." George commented, looking up train times.

We all shrugged, with nothing better to do and knowing that it would be fun regardless.

Making our way to the shop, we picked our beverages and some snacks for the trip, I choose a canned cocktail, a cranberry vodka and some various beers that George recommend. I had never been one for beers much, but I didn't want to just drink cocktails and get drunk before we'd even left the station.

Situating ourselves on the train, I sat on the window side next to George, across from the Arthur's. We opened our first drinks, bantering back and forth trying to make some good content for the video.

By the time we had arrived in Manchester, we were all two drinks in and I was definitely feeling some of the alcohol. Cursing the fact I was a lightweight. "George," I looked around to him, catching his attention he turned to look at me. "Please don't let me get too drunk and die" he laughed. "I'm serious. I get weird when I get drunk and I will try and run off." He nodded, saluting causing me to laugh.

"I'll make sure you don't die, but I think being weird would make Arthur happy to have good content." I shrugged, it was fair enough.

We bounced around from a few different pubs, taking a few shots and attempting to split the G, which I failed miserably at. "How the fuck do you drink this?" I questioned, pushing the drink towards George who happily accepted it from me. He grabbed the glass, downing it in just a few drinks. I stared in amazement.

"You've had what," I counted on my hands "six or seven drinks now? How are you not drunk?" I asked.

He shrugged in response. "That's what I'm saying!" ArthurTV chimed in.

"Guess I'm just better than everyone?" George smirked. I slapped his arm lightly, knowing I was well on my way to being pissed in a matter of another drop of alcohol.

Arthur Hill decided it was time to take it to the streets, wanting to find something else to do as it was nearing 7pm. We passed a few shops, nothing really catching our eyes until we found a vintage shop that Arthur Hill and I got way too excited about. With all of us walking side by side, Arthur and I decided in our nearly drunken states to race to the shop.

"Last inside pays for dinner!" I said before running off, leaving George and ArthurTV behind as Arthur Hill and I ran off.

We found a bunch of cool knickknacks, and some vintage clothes that we ended up purchasing before heading to a restaurant not far away for dinner.

Once again, Arthur began to feed us drink after drink - playing a few drinking games - mainly rock paper scissors because we had lost all creativity with the amount of alcohol we had consumed.

Deciding to call it quits, we tallied up our drinks. George had won by a landslide of course, leaving the three of us in the dust. I was just happy I had at least beat Arthur Hill.

On the way back to the train, I had noticed George was quieter than usual, not making his normal jokes and conversation with me or the boys.

"Everything alright?" I asked him, nudging him slightly as we walked next to each other.

"Yeah yeah, fine." He gave me a half smile. I felt something was off but I couldn't pin something specific that could have been upsetting.

We got onto the train, our banter dying down as we all realized how late it was, and how much we had to drink. The boys dozed off, and our cameraman for the day sat across the walkway from us, starting to filter through the footage while I mindlessly scrolled through my phone.

"Y/n," he gestured to the laptop showing me some of the footage from the day. I squinted, trying to place this exact part of the day. It was as we were walking to the vintage shop.

I watched the scene I had lived a few short hours ago, and a realization washed over me as I watched the video.

A few moments before Arthur and I were going to sprint towards the shop, George had reached down for my hand, narrowly missing it before I began to sprint off. The camera caught the accidental airing of his hand holding, and his reaction. He signed and looked towards ArthurTV. "This has to be the universe telling me to stop trying" George said.

My jaw was basically on the floor of the train car after that statement. I had to be the most oblivious person on earth.

Snapped out of my thoughts, which apparently had been happening for awhile as we were now back at kings cross. "Coming?" George asked.

I stood up, grabbing my bag and following the boys off the train.

Their flat wasn't far from mine, so we all shared an uber to theirs and I decided to walk back to mine. "Walk me home?" I asked George as we got out of the car. He nodded, following me as we started the short walk.

I looked up to him as we walked together, taking in his features. He looked handsome as always, his hair now growing out more with little curls sticking out at the back. Almost instinctively I reached down and grabbed his hand. He tensed instantly, his head snapping down to our hands now intertwined.

"I didn't mean to run away from you" I said softly. He smirked, turning his head slightly to hide the blush on his face.

“I could have just told you I wanted to hold your hand instead of being a weirdo about it, to be fair.” I laughed. We had now made it into my building.

“Or I could have told you I had a crush on you” I admitted. It felt so weird to be admitting this to one of my closest friends.

“You have a crush on me?” He gave me that signature George smirk that makes your heart flutter. We stopped at the door of my flat, and I leaned my back onto it.

“And what if I do Clarkey?” I retorted, playing into his flirtatious nature.

He didn’t say anything, putting his hands on either side of me on my door. He leaned down, pressing his lips to mine in a sweet kiss. I tangled my hands in his hair, deepening the kiss, tasting the alcohol he had consumed tonight.

Pulling back for air, I smiled at him, giving him a few more small kisses. “Come inside?” I asked, knowing where this would lead.

“Absolutely.” He followed me inside.

[azzishands]

Fan of a fan - Chapter three

Paige x Azzi

Word count: 5.1k

Warnings: sexual content

Masterlist

---

The party was being held at some club downtown. The entire club was rented by some C-list celebrity Aubrey was close with and they all were able to skip the whole line because of that. The whole ride to the club, Paige was making conversation with the actresses. Azzi quickly learned how good Paige was at making people feel included. 

“What you girls drinking?” Paige asks over the loud music in the club once they were inside. 

“I’ll probably have a GT,” Zendaya answers. 

“And let me guess, tequila for you?” Paige turns to Azzi with a playful smile. 

Azzi groans and buries her head in her hands in embarrassment. 

“Please forget about that night,” she says. 

“I’d rather not,” Paige just states. “But for real, what can I get you?”

“Let me follow you,” Azzi says, but before she does, she turns to her friend. “You wanna come get drinks with us?”

“Nah, I think I’ll stay here with KK and the girls for a while,” Zendaya answers, then leans in to whisper something in Azzi’s ear. “I don’t want to interrupt your game.”

“Z-”

“Now go,” the co-star just smirks and pushes Azzi away from her. 

Paige looks at Azzi with her eyebrows raised, quietly asking if she’s ready to go to the bar. The actress nods, and Paige puts her hand out in front of her, offering to lead the way. Azzi’s stomach flips at the gesture and takes it. 

The crowd is thick and Azzi has to hold Paige’s hand firmly to keep up and not get lost. At last, they reach the bar, and Paige has to pull Azzi’s hand a little to get her through to the counter. 

“You know what you want?” Paige asks Azzi.

“You don’t have to order for me,” the actress tells her. “Why don’t you let me buy us the first round?”

“Azzi, you don’t have to-”

“Please,” Azzi looks Paige in the eyes with such a tender look that it makes Paige's knees go weak. 

“Fine,” Paige bites her lip. “I’ll have a dirty shirley.”

“Can I get a dirty shirley, a gin and tonic and a vodka cranberry please?” Azzi leans a bit over the counter to make the bartender hear her. 

“Let’s sit here,” Paige says and takes a seat by the bar. Azzi sits down next to her, waiting for their drinks. 

Azzi is wearing a crop top with some jeans, and Paige has been trying to not stare at her abs this whole time. Azzi on the other hand, has been wondering how someone can look so hot in a Nike tracksuit? No one looks this hot in a Nike tracksuit for crying out loud. Paige Bueckers seems to live in this world with other rules written for her. 

“I have to be honest,” Azzi speaks up. “I don’t remember everything from last weekend.” 

Paige can feel her heart drop for a millisecond, wondering if Azzi doesn’t remember the moment they almost had kissed, wondering if it truly was something that only happened because of the tequila.

“What do you remember?” she asks carefully. Their drinks are done and handed to them. 

“I remember taking shots with you in my room, and that’s pretty much it. And I know that I threw up, but I don’t have any memories from that either,” Azzi says ashamed. “I really hope you weren’t there for that.” 

Paige takes a sip from her drink, contemplating how much she should tell the actress. Azzi takes a sip as well, and she can see the cogs turning in Paige’s head. 

“Were you there?” she hesitantly asks, as she understands that Paige is trying to figure out what to say. 

“Nah, I came into the bathroom when you were done,” she answers honestly. “You don’t have anything to worry about. It was a great night, I had a great time with you.” 

“Ice told me you carried me to bed,” Azzi reveals. “Is that true?”

“Well, yeah,” Paige shrugs. “Is that okay?”

Azzi can only let out a chuckle. 

“Of course it is,” she smiles gently. “That’s very sweet of you. Thank you, Paige.”

“That’s nothing. I’m sorry your night ended the way it did.”

“I’m not,” Azzi quickly objects. “Or well, I could’ve lived without the memory loss and hangover, but I’m glad the night was spent with you.” 

This makes Paige smile. There was something so secure with the actress’ way of being. The way she carried herself and spoke made it seem like she had never doubted herself ever, while still being so down to earth and humble. Paige really appreciated that about her. Her words felt genuine.

“How’s filming going?” Paige asks.

“It’s going alright. We’ll be done shooting in like a month, and then we’re headed out for a press tour, so it’s really starting to hit me that it’s over soon,” Azzi tells her with a somewhat sad smile. 

“You know what you gonna do next?” 

“No, I haven't been looking for the next project yet,” the actress reveals. “I’m hoping to go on vacation a little bit during the summer at least, before I start working again.” 

“Sounds good,” Paige nods. 

"What about you? How’s the tour?”

“It’s going well. I’m extremely grateful for the opportunity and so blessed to be doing what I love like this,” Paige smiles widely, and her words make Azzi smile as well. 

The actress thinks back to some years ago when she saw a headline about the singer with a picture taken by a paparazzi on the cover of the magazine with Paige with her arm around some girl. The headline had said ‘Paige Buecker’s can’t seem to get enough girls on her arm”. Azzi remembers thinking Paige must have known how desirable she was and used it to her advantage. But sitting next to her right now, she can’t help but think the opposite. This girl doesn’t know just how desirable she is.  

This girl was humble, grateful and really down to earth. Azzi couldn’t say the same about other celebrities she had met. 

“What do you like to do when you’re not touring?” Azzi asks curiously.

“Hmm,” Paige hums. “I really enjoy watching movies. Like yours, for example.”

Azzi looks at her surprised. She doesn’t really know why though, as she recalls Paige saying she was a movie fan on the balcony the night they first met. 

“Really?” it just slips out.

“Yeah,” Paige nods. “Now I know you’re not a director or anything, but your filmography is really impressive and I like the kind of movies you’re doing. I feel like you’ve made conscious choices about what films to be a part of, and those choices have really made a cool and unique range and collection of art. I like that.”

The actress just looks at the singer in awe. It felt like Paige had seen through her in a way she had never been seen before, and it felt scary and exciting all at once. It wasn’t even anything personal at all, just an observation about her work - still it felt like Paige suddenly exposed herself for having the ability to see Azzi’s intentions without having to tell them. 

“Wow, thank you, that’s genuinely the most validating thing anyone has ever told me,” Azzi says, shaking her head a little in disbelief. 

“I’m just stating facts,” Paige smiles. “You don’t seem like the person to take on just any role for the sake of working. I feel like you do it for the art aspect of it all. And I personally think it translates really well into your acting, like everything seems so natural, the way you make acting so… beautiful.”

“Oh my God stop,” Azzi doesn’t even know what to say, she’s just blushing profusely. Her heart is beating so hard against her ribcage, and she doesn’t really know what to say, so she tries to joke to not show how much that meant to her. “Now you’re just buttering up to me.” 

“Is it working?” Paige smirks charmingly. 

Azzi just rolls her eyes with the biggest smile and gives Paige a small shove on her arm. Of course it was working. She would’ve never thought that Paige Buecker’s most attractive attribute was the way she could talk to you. Not even flirting, just talking. Okay maybe a little bit of flirting, but Azzi couldn’t really tell if that’s what was happening or not.

“Should we join the other’s and give Z her GT?” the singer asks. 

“If we have to,” Azzi answers back without thinking. 

“What, you don’t wanna be with your friend?” Paige asks playfully.

“No,” Azzi deadpans. 

The blonde laughs. “Alright, what do you wanna do then?” 

Azzi swallows hard, wondering how venturous she dares to be, how honest she could be without making it weird. But all she wanted to do was go home with Paige, sit in a quiet room with her and talk all night. The thought of saying that she only wants to be with Paige makes Azzi cringe inside. That would just sound like a needy kid, or worse - a crazy obsessive fangirl. 

Paige sees the way Azzi is thinking, and it doesn’t go unnoticed the way she’s looking at her lips as if she’s contemplating on something. The tension between them has been subtle, but it has crystallized throughout the night. That’s why before Azzi even can answer, Paige speaks up again.

“Wanna leave?” she suggests. 

Azzi nods slowly with a grin. “Jackpot.” And all doubt leaves Paige’s body with that answer. 

They drink up the rest of their drinks and Azzi takes the gin and tonic in her hand. Trying her best to not spill anything while moving through the crowd, they eventually make it to the back of the club where they last saw the other girls. 

“Here’s your GT,” Azzi hands it to Zendaya who’s been hanging out with the rest of the band. 

“Took you long enough,” she winks. “Did something happen or?”

“No,” Azzi shakes her head with a smile. “But we’re gonna take off though. Is that okay with you? You wanna come with?”

“Girl no, I don’t want to third-wheel with y’all,” Zendaya scoffs. “I’m having a great time with the band. You go have fun, but take it easy with the tequila, alright?” She says and gives Azzi another wink. 

Paige on the other hand is having a much more non-chill reaction from the girls when she tells them her and Azzi are about to leave.

“DUDE, YOU’RE SO GONNA SC-”

“SHUT UP BRO!” Paige puts her hand on KK’s mouth fast and looks behind her where the two actresses are standing to see if anyone heard. 

“But you are though,” Aubrey grins.

“Why do y’all have to be like that,” Paige sighs. “I don’t even know if she likes me like that. We barely know each other.”

“You don’t have to know each other to fuck,” Sarah suddenly says.

“WHO GAVE THIS GIRL ALCOHOL,” Paige exclaims, defeated that all three of her bandmates are thinking the same thing. “You’ve had enough of that,” she continues and takes the glass in Sarah’s hand. 

“I’m not even tipsy,” Sarah protests and snatches it back. 

“Yo Azzi, be nice to Paige, she’s a little uptight tonight,” KK suddenly says to the actress. 

“Bruh, what the fuck,” the singer says annoyed. “We’re out of here.”

And with that, Paige grabs Azzi’s wrist and walks out, managing to say a quick goodbye to Zendaya while fleeing the scene. 

“Our driver’s just around the corner,” Paige says, still holding onto Azzi’s wrist.

But before they could make the corner, flashes are suddenly blinding them from all directions. 

“PAIGE, OVER HERE!”

“AZZI, AZZI, IS IT TRUE YOU CAN’T STAND ZENDAYA?”

Before they know it, a crowd of people are coming towards them. Phones recording, cameras flashing. Were the paparazzi waiting outside the club this whole time?

“Fuck, come on,” Paige says and starts jogging away from the unexpected audience, shielding her eyes from the constant flashes.

The two girls hurries to the black car Paige is leading them to, and enters. The whole time Paige never let go of Azzi’s wrist. 

“We’ll just go to the hotel, please,” Paige instructs her driver, and Azzi’s stomach flips at the thought of going to Paige’s hotel room. 

“You don’t have your own place here in LA?” Azzi asks. 

“Nah, I only have one home,” she says. “Or well, three technically, since my parents are divorced, but only one of my own.”

“Where do you live?” 

“In Minnesota. That’s where I’m from.” 

“Really? That’s unexpected,” Azzi says, surprised to hear that it’s not on the west nor the east coast. 

“Why?” Paige lets out a chuckle. 

“I thought it’d be like New York or something,” Azzi confesses. “I’ve never been to Minnesota. What’s it like?”

“You’ve never been to Minnesota!?” Paige repeats flabbergasted. “Bro, you gotta come visit.”

Azzi blushes immediately at the invitation to visit Paige Bueckers at her home in Minnesota. 

“If you’re there, I will,” she replies, and in return, Paige can feel her heart stop for a second. 

The only thing they can hear is the faint sound of the radio that the driver is listening to, but no words exchanges between them, only looks. And the tension in the car is quite palpable.

Paige swallows hard. Azzi’s eyes on her is making it really hard to play it cool. 

“You know, I’ve been to one of your concerts before,” Azzi breaks the silence. 

“You have?” Paige asks, surprised. 

“Yeah, years ago. It was before your Grammy win, and you had just released your first album. I went to the LA show. You played in like an older amphitheatre.”

“That’s crazy,” the singer says. “You should’ve dm'd me that you were gonna be there”

“I was unknown at that time, I would’ve been just another one of your fangirls in your dm's,” Azzi laughs a little. 

“You were not unknown,” Paige protests. “You were in a Wes Anderson movie around that time, I’m pretty sure.”

Now it was Azzi’s turn to yet again be surprised by the singer. 

“How do you know that?” Azzi asks, totally astonished. “I was in that movie for a total of thirty seconds, and I didn’t even have a line? I was an extra in the background.”

Paige’s eyes widen, not having been aware of how much she would expose herself as a fan when she had said that. 

“I just… know,” she drawls out an answer. “Movie fan, remember?”

Azzi doesn’t know what to say. She just looks at Paige with an open mouth. But she doesn’t have to say anything, because the car suddenly stops and they have arrived at Paige’s hotel.

They ride up the elevator to the top floor and enter Paige’s hotel suite. The suite is big, although not presidential style. There’s a massive window in front of the bed that has a view over the city of angel’s nightlife, and Azzi immediately goes over to it to admire the streetlights in the distance.

“Wow, look at this view,” Azzi says, amazed.

“I actually don’t know why I chose a room on the top floor, I’m afraid of heights,” Paige tells her, and sits down on the edge of her bed, clearly not wanting to join Azzi by the window. She takes up her phone and puts on some music - Brent Faiyaz. 

“But you gotta come see this view,” the actress turns around and bites her lip, waving her over. 

“Nah I’m good, I can see it from here,” the blonde says. 

Azzi just raises her eyebrows and extends her hand for the singer to take. Paige gives out a soft scoff and shakes her head with a smile, reluctantly rises up from the bed and takes Azzi’s hand. The singer can hear her bandmates in her head, how they would call her whipped and a simp. But how can you not take Azzi Fudd’s hand when she offers it?

“Oh man,” Paige breathes, trying to not freak out as she’s standing right by the window. Azzi gives her hand a little squeeze, looking at her intently while Paige is closing her eyes. She studies her face, the curve of her nose, her high cheekbones and sharp jaw, and her lips. God, her lips. 

Azzi doesn’t think much when she moves her other hand to Paige’s cheek. The singer’s eyes shoot open and stare at her brown one’s. 

“You have too beautiful eyes to have them closed,” Azzi whispers with a smile. 

Paige may have gotten light headed by looking out the window, but no fear of heights can be compared to the vertigo she is feeling right now looking into Azzi’s brown eyes, being this close to the girl, feeling her hand on her cheek and hearing those words. 

The tension is thick in the hotel suite, and it doesn’t help that Brent Faiyaz is playing in the background. The actress sees Paige swallow as they’re just looking at each other. It is somehow comforting to see the singer look a bit nervous, compared to her confident exterior she usually displays. It makes Azzi realize that Paige is after all only a girl. 

And so Azzi finally leans in and kisses her. 

Paige could have might as well been falling out the window, because that’s what it feels like to kiss Azzi Fudd - free falling. 

The singer is too caught up in the feeling of Azzi’s lips on hers to even register what her hands are doing, as they instinctively find their way to the actress' waist. Azzi’s hand is still on Paige’s cheek, while the other one moves up her arm, over her shoulder and onto the back of her head, curling her fingers and softly grabs onto Paige’s blonde hair.

Azzi lightly pulls on it and Paige lets out a breath of surprise with her head slightly tilted back, which the actress takes advantage of and deepens the kiss with her tongue. 

Paige, not used to letting others take control like that, guides Azzi backwards towards the bed, while having their bodies entangled and tongues dancing. The singer then reluctantly breaks the kiss and looks at Azzi with awe, and is met with the same look back. She takes it as a sign and gently pushes Azzi down onto the bed. 

She hovers over the actress, taking in the sight of having Azzi Fudd beneath her. 

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” she breathes and reattaches her lips onto the actress’. She pins Azzi’s wrists down onto the bed and places one of her knees between the actress’ legs. Feeling the pressure from Paige’s knee, Azzi lets out a sigh of pleasure.

The actress lets her hands roam Paige’s body, but there’s too many layers between her fingers and the singer’s skin. Azzi grabs the zipper of Paige’s Nike fleece and drags it down. She pushes the fleece off Paige’s shoulder, and the singer lets it fall off and throws it off the bed somewhere. 

In return, Paige sits up with her fingers at the hem of Azzi’s crop top. Azzi follows up, raising her arms in the air, letting the singer take it off with ease. Paige’s eyes widen at the discovery that Azzi was not wearing a bra underneath. 

“Fuck,” she mutters and swallows hard while looking at Azzi’s chest. Azzi grabs Paige’s head and pulls her down again to meet her lips once more. The singer’s hands gently caress Azzi’s breasts and Azzi groans as a response. 

Paige bites down on Azzi’s lower lip and kisses down her jawline, down to her neck, giving open mouthed kisses and letting her tongue taste her skin. 

Azzi’s breathing is getting heavier and uneven at this point, feeling like everything is going too fast and too slow at the same time. She wants Paige to touch her where she needs her the most, while also wanting to enjoy every single second she’s just touching her everywhere.

“Oh God,” Azzi moans when Paige is sucking on her pulse point. Azzi places her hands on Paige’s shoulders, gently pushing her down, becoming more and more impatient even though it’s really just begun.

“Take these off,” Paige says and grabs the hem of Azzi’s jeans. The actress lifts her butt from the bed while Paige smoothly takes them off. 

“Take off yours too,” it’s more of a demand than a request from Azzi. She just wants to feel Paige’s skin on hers. And luckily for Azzi, Paige stands up from the bed and takes off her pants.

Azzi sits up on the bed, watching as Paige tosses her pants somewhere on the floor. She’s taking in the sight of Paige Buecker’s standing in front of her in nothing but a bra and some boxers, with a window over Hollywood in the back. It could be a painting really, how beautiful it all looks. 

“You’re unreal,” Azzi says and scoots down on the bed so she’s sitting on the edge of it. “Come here.”

Paige sits down on her lap, looking intently into Azzi’s eyes. 

“Actually,” Paige smiles, and stands up again. Azzi looks at her questioning, but intrigued. “I think I’d rather be sitting down here,” she continues and kneels down in front of Azzi, while pushing Azzi’s legs apart. 

Azzi lets out a sharp breath and bites her bottom lip to stop herself from moaning just by the sight of Paige Buecker’s on her knees before her. Paige places her hands on Azzi’s butt and scoots her forward, making Azzi lean back on her elbows. 

The singer kisses the actress’ inner thighs, caressing her legs, while keeping intense eye contact through it all. 

Azzi has never felt so captivated by someone else’s eyes like this. The way Paige is looking at her feels like she’s a steak in front of a tiger. 

“Fuck,” Azzi moans and throws her head back at the sudden feeling of Paige’s tongue on her hipbone just above her panties. Her hand finds the blonde’s head and gently pushes it down between her legs.

“So impatient,” Paige mumbles amused. She kisses the fabric of Azzi’s panties right on the clit, and Azzi’s hips twitch in response with a soft moan. 

“Take it off,” Azzi groans, lifting her butt to make it easier. But Paige just pushes her hips down again onto the mattress. 

“Nah uh,” Paige says with a smirk. “I want you just like this.”

“You’re driving me insane,” Azzi says in frustration. Paige only smiles devilishly in response, giving a long swipe of her tongue over her folds, feeling how wet the actress is through her panties. Azzi arches her back, pushing Paige’s head towards her center with her hand. 

Paige pushes the fabric of Azzi’s panties to the side, exposing her wet pussy. Deciding that the impatient actress has been waiting long enough, Paige sticks out her tongue and lets it feel all of Azzi.

Azzi moans loudly, finally getting touched where she’s been aching this whole time. She holds Paige’s head firmly, not wanting Paige to move away any time soon. The singer is obedient and licks her without holding back. Feeling how wet Azzi was for her made her head spin of excitement, and Paige could feel her own wetness making itself visible through her boxers. 

“I want you inside,” Azzi groans, and Paige almost lets out a moan herself just from hearing those words. She complies and brings her fingers to Azzi’s hole, teasing her yet again by just placing them there, not moving.

“Paige,” the actress sighs. 

“Yes?” Paige lifts her head and looks at the actress, knowing exactly what she’s doing to her.

“Don’t stop,” Azzi exclaims desperately and forcefully pushes the singer’s head back to her aching center. 

Paige lets her tongue press flatly against Azzi’s bundle of nerves, licking up and down with firm pressure. Azzi’s moaning loudly now, but she seems to become speechless the second Paige finally enters her with two fingers. She just hears shallow uneven breaths from the actress. Paige is slowly pumping in and out of her, doing that upward motion with her fingers, hitting that perfect spot. It doesn’t take long for Azzi to find her voice again, the element of surprise having washed over her.

“Mhm, fuck,” she moans. 

“You look so sexy like this,” Paige praises her, caressing the actress’ stomach with her free hand. Azzi grinds herself against Paige’s face and fingers, chasing her own high. 

Paige can feel that Azzi is close by how her hips are moving with no rhythm, clearly desperate for release. She sucks on her clit and fucks her a little harder, which seems to do the trick because Azzi’s lets out a loud moan and her eyes roll back from pleasure. 

The singer fucks her through her high, feeling Azzi’s walls clenching on her fingers. 

“So fucking pretty,” she mumbles, as she slows down her fingers. 

Azzi’s breathing slows down and she’s just laying there with her eyes closed. She opens them and looks down at Paige. The singer takes out her fingers and doesn’t hesitate on licking them clean. She climbs on top of Azzi and leans down to give her a sweet kiss. 

“We’re not done yet,” Azzi whispers as they break the kiss. “I wanna taste you.” 

Paige looks down at her in surprise. And before she knows it, Azzi has flipped them over. 

“And for future reference, just know that what you do to me, I’ll do it back a hundred times worse,” Azzi half-jokingly threatens, referring to the way Paige had teased her. 

“It’s not my fault you’re impatient,” Paige replies with a smirk, but her heart was beating out of her chest. Azzi Fudd straddling her, looking down at her with that look, threatening to make her pay for her teasing. Being at Azzi’s mercy was a new level of arousal Paige had never felt before.

“Oh but it is,” Azzi says and leans down and gives Paige’s neck a long swipe of her tongue. Paige gasps from the sensation. 

Azzi french kisses Paige’s ear, making her eyes roll back. Paige bucks her hips upwards, trying to get some friction, and Azzi starts to grind down on her slowly. She places one of her legs between the singer’s, and starts gently riding her leg, while simultaneously pressing her knee on Paige’s center. 

“Mhm,” Paige groans when she feels Azzi’s wetness through her panties that Paige had refused to take off earlier. 

Azzi kisses her way down Paige’s chest, pushes up her sports bra and takes Paige’s nipple in her mouth, grazing with her teeth before giving it a proper swipe with her tongue. She looks at Paige, while slowly licking her other nipple. Paige is just staring at her with an open mouth. Nothing could’ve prepared her for this, for Azzi Fudd. The actress’ hands are on Paige’s sides, giving her the tingles with her soft touch going up and down. At last they land on her hips, playing with the hem of her boxer shorts. 

Azzi’s mouth is moving more south, teasingly licking around Paige’s bellybutton, then slowly licking down even further til she reaches her boxer shorts. She takes the fabric into her mouth and uses her teeth to gently drag them downwards, but not down completely. Azzi’s hands are caressing Paige’s legs, and Paige lifts her hips to make it easier for the actress to take off her boxer shorts. But Azzi doesn’t take them off. She just smirks and licks along the hem of them til she reaches Paige’s left hip bone. 

“My God,” Paige breathes and settles down onto the mattress again, going insane by the feeling of Azzi’s tongue on her hip bone. 

Paige’s hands grab onto the back of Azzi’s head, gently tugging her hair, starting to become a little bit desperate for the touch. Azzi finally settles between her legs, giving her boxer shorts a swipe of her tongue right where she wants it.

“Please,” Paige blurts out before she can even register what she’s saying. 

“Please what?” Azzi asks sweetly, getting incredibly aroused by Paige’s plea and the wetness she felt on her tongue just now.

Paige looks down on Azzi, swallowing hard, knowing she has to answer, but not really wanting to. Azzi just tilts her head questioningly at her, waiting for her to say something. Paige is breathing hard now. Just the sight of Azzi between her legs makes her even more wet.

“What do you need Paige?” Azzi asks once again, with a low tone, caressing her inner thigh with her hand so close to where she wants it, but not quite there.

“Take them off,” Paige whispers. 

Azzi gives out a low chuckle. “No,” she shakes her head and pushes Paige’s legs apart even further and moves the boxer shorts to the side and gives the singer’s clit a small flick with her tongue.

Paige throws her head back with a moan, grabbing Azzi’s head hard. Not wanting to give it all too fast, Azzi fights against Paige’s attempts to push her closer, continuing to give small licks with her tongue, focusing on not being too close with her head to tease.

“You’re a menace,” Paige mutters between breaths. 

Deciding that she’s punished the girl enough, Azzi finally presses her whole tongue and face against Paige’s pussy, licking her from her hole to her clit. She gets rewarded immediately with another loud moan from the blonde. Azzi suddenly sits up and grabs Paige’s boxer shorts, pulling them off in one swift move. 

“Fine,” she mumbles and quickly dives right in towards the bare pussy. This time she doesn’t fight back when Paige pulls her face closer.

The actress gives long and hard strokes, driving the singer insane. Paige grinds against Azzi’s face faster, starting to feel something build up in her lower abdomen. Azzi hears the blonde’s breaths getting more shallow and uneven, with occasional “Oh my God” coming out from her mouth. 

Paige closes her legs around Azzi’s head, feeling pure bliss hit her hard, as she throws her head back.

“Fuck,” she moans. Azzi’s trying her best to keep going, almost getting crushed by Paige’s legs, but wanting to let her ride it out completely before she detaches her tongue. 

“You look so sexy when you cum,” the actress smiles so sweetly and crawls up to Paige, lying down on top of her, resting her head on her chest. Paige instinctively places her arms around her, caressing her back. 

“I always look sexy,” she replies, and Azzi laughs on her chest. 

“That’s true,” she mumbles. 

“But you’re like on a whole ‘nother level, Azzi Fudd,” Paige whispers. 

Yes, Paige might be afraid of heights. But she would gladly feel the feeling of falling again, because Azzi Fudd caught her so well.

—

[theemporium]

[5k] luke hughes swore he would never tell another soul and take his confession to the grave. that ends as an epic fail as he tells a really pretty girl his most embarrassing secret. luckily for him, she seems pretty eager to help him out.

series masterlist

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It shouldn’t be embarrassing, but it was. It really fucking was.

It wasn’t always a big deal. When he was in high school, everybody was just like him. Or at least, most people were. HIs friend group were. And they would always talk about how fun college would be, how everything would change, how everyone grew up and just did it. 

And then he went to college and nothing really changed. It was a bit embarrassing, it made his cheeks burn bright red whenever he spoke about it. But it also wasn’t the most unbelievable thing. Between keeping his GPA up, his training regime and the countless games during the season, it wasn’t shocking to anyone that he didn’t have as much free time as movies liked to make it seem like. 

But then he moved up. He went from being a kid with a dream to actually living that dream and beyond. A joke from his childhood became a reality when he found himself on the ice with his older brother, wearing the same jersey as his older brother. Suddenly, it was all real and intense and he was in it properly. 

But, fuck, it was embarrassing that he was in the National Hockey League and he was a fucking virgin.

In theory, he knew it wasn’t a big deal. It didn’t change the way he played or his performance on the ice. It didn’t affect his professional life in any way, shape or form. But it still made him want to curl up in a corner and shrivel his existence away whenever he thought about it too long.

And it wasn’t like it was obvious. He wasn’t announcing it to the world and rambling on about it in interviews. But the amount of jokes people made about women throwing themselves at his feet or having a turnstile of people in his bed felt like he might as well be. 

The awkward laughs and strained smiles would only take him so far before someone caught on. 

And that might have been the worst part—the fact that nobody knew. Not his friends in high school nor the ones he made in college. None of his teammates. Not even his brothers (though, the idea of him even telling them whether or not he was a virgin was an experience he would like to avoid all together). 

Nobody in the fucking world knew Luke Hughes was a virgin except him and, in a weird way, it was kind of fucking lonely.

Or at least, nobody else knew until he met you.

…

The night he met you had been a few days after the Devils had been kicked out of the playoffs. 

Despite the loss, Nico wanted one last team celebration to sign off a good season. Because yes, it fucking sucked that they were knocked out and it sucked they wouldn’t be the ones to lift the Stanley Cup this year. But they still played well, they deserved to appreciate that, to appreciate each other. 

And, on a more personal level, it was a chance to celebrate with the NHL team he could now call his home.

He was in the big leagues now. He was in the NHL and he was a professional hockey player and, by the power of some fucking superior being he did not know, he was lucky enough to share a team with at least one of his brothers. 

It still felt like a dream.

And with that dream came the joys and perks of being a New Jersey Devil—like not being ID’d in the bar the team commonly visited. 

“Takin’ it all in?” 

He tore his eyes away from the surrounding bar to look at his brother, perched on the edge of the pool table Nathan and Kevin were currently competing on. He had been happy to just watch, observe—for lack of better terms—take it all in, like Jack assumed. 

Instead, he just retorted with, “it’s a bar. Not much to take in that I haven’t seen before.”

“Okay, college boy,” Jack snorted, his cheeks flushed the same shade of red as the vodka cranberries he had been drinking all night. “I meant the big leagues.”

Luke resisted the urge to snort. “Ask me again in a year when it’s actually sunk in.”

Something in Jack’s face softened. “I’m glad you’re here, Moose.”

His throat felt a little tight but he still smiled. “Me too.”

He had assumed that was the end of the conversation, but that was Luke’s first mistake. He hadn’t paid much attention to the way Jack’s eyes roamed around the bar, narrowed like he was looking for something or, in this case, someone.

“What do ya think about her?”

Luke blinked, looking at his brother with a confused glance before he followed his line of vision to some blonde settled against the wall on the other side of the bar. 

“What about her?”

Jack shot him a look. “Do you think she’s pretty?”

Luke hesitated, almost as though it was a trick question. “Yes?”

Jack’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t sound convinced,” he commented. “So, blonde isn’t your type. What is then? Brunettes? Redheads? Miscellaneous?”

“No, I—” Luke frowned. “I’m surprised you even know what miscellaneous means.”

Jack punched his arm in response. 

“Why are you asking about my type?” Luke questioned, something that felt a lot like uncertainty bubbling in his stomach.

Jack let out a deep sigh, prolonging it to properly encapture his annoyance. “I’m trying to help you get laid, bud.”

Luke froze. 

There was no way Jack could know. He knew that. He did. Logically, it was impossible for his brother to know he was a virgin when Luke had genuinely never admitted as much beyond the age of seventeen. But here he is, seemingly trying to find him someone to sleep with. There was no way he could know, there was no way Jack knew—

“I mean, you’re in the fucking league now, bud. Milk it a little, have some fun!” Jack continued, lost in his own rambles to even notice the way Luke’s shoulders sagged with relief. “I’m sure college was fun and all, but this is better!” 

Luke tried to let out a laugh. “I think I’m alright for tonight.” 

Jack huffed out in annoyance. “Don’t be a bore! Luke, you’re in the NHL. You just fucking played in the playoffs! Enjoy yourself, man.” 

“I am enjoying myself,” Luke countered. 

“You’ve been drinking the same beer since we got here,” Jack snapped back with a knowing look. “And I know it tastes like shit because I did the exact same thing when I first ordered a drink here. I’m trying to be your guru, help you avoid the mistakes I made.”

“My guru,” Luke repeated with a snort. “More like an unwanted Cupid.”

Jack rolled his eyes. “C’mon—”

“Focus on yourself.”

“It’s my duty as a brother—”

“I am not staying to listen to this,” Luke grumbled, batting away his brother’s hands as he began to make his way to the bar. As much as he hated to admit it, Jack was right—this beer tasted horrible and not even the tiny sips he had been taking were going to save it. 

He settled himself on a free spot at the bar, his elbows placed on the slightly sticky countertop as he peered over to try find a bartender. He saw a few on the other side of the bar finishing off a few drinks and accepted the small wait, a little lost in his own thoughts and whether he wanted to try another drink instead of just settling for something non-alcoholic when a hand settled on his back. 

“There you are, babe!”

Luke frowned, turning around to find you staring right back at him with a grin on your face. Honestly, he was expecting to turn around and let the person realise they had made a mistake. But your smile remained on your face, though the wide eyes staring back at him were a little distressing. 

“Uh, I think you—” But he was cut off by another voice, a much deeper one this time.

“This is your boyfriend?” 

The man was average height and fairly built, but that was all he had going for him. His shirt was definitely a size too small to make him look bigger and the chunky chain looked nothing short of tacky. And Luke may have been in his presence for less than thirty seconds, but the body spray was overwhelming and pungent and made him want to plug his nose. 

Now, Luke may be a little slow but he isn’t dumb.

He may be deeply confused by the sudden promotion to boyfriend from a stranger but it didn’t take long for Luke to realise the wide, distressing eyes were a cry for help and the walking embodiment of Axe body spray in a tight shirt was the reason. 

“Uh, yeah!” Luke cleared his throat a little, his arm moving to wrap around your shoulders in the least awkward way he could possibly achieve. “She’s my girl! Uh, girlfriend! She’s my—” His cheeks burned but he couldn’t stop his mouth from moving. “She’s my babe!” 

The man glanced between you and Luke for a few moments before rolling his eyes, muttering something under his breath about wasting his time before he disappeared into the throng of people crowded by the bar. 

“What a dick,” you murmured and it almost made Luke jump when he remembered you were still beside him, that his arm was still around your shoulders. You turned around to look at him once you knew the other guy was gone, and your smile seemed softer now. “Thank you for that, really. You’re a lifesaver.”

“It’s no biggie,” Luke replied, cringing a little before he quickly continued. “Thanks for giving me the honour of being your fake boyfriend.”

You snorted. “Yeah, well, you have a friendly face. You looked like you would go along with it.”

His cheeks burned warmer. “Thanks?”

“You’re welcome,” you grinned before turning to settle in the spot next to him, fingers tapping on the bar counter. “Let me buy you a drink to thank you for your services?” 

Luke began shaking his head. “That really isn’t necessary—”

“Please,” you insisted, a softer expression on your face. “It would make me feel better for dragging you into my scheme.”

“I—” He cleared his throat, hoping to some superior being that his face wasn’t as red as it felt. “O-Okay.”

Your grin widened. “Brilliant. What do you want?” 

“A Coke.”

“Really?”

“Yes?”

“Okay, no judgement, just surprised,” you said, leaning over the bar to place your drink order along with his before you turned back to the boy. “So, do I at least get to know my fake boyfriend’s name?”

HIs lips twitched upwards. “Luke.”

“Luke,” you repeated before telling him your name, something gleaming in your eyes when you did. “So, Luke, what brings you to a bar on a Monday night to drink Coke?” 

“I’m here with some work friends,” he lied easily, not really one to play the professional hockey player card (despite Trevor’s insistence that it was expected to be used for this reason exactly). “Just enjoying the night before we all head off for the summer.”

“Hm, here with your work buddies but staying sober and standing alone at a bar,” you mused. “You’re quite intriguing, Luke.”

“I think that’s a compliment,” he murmured with a frown. 

“It is,” you assured him with a smile.

Luke opened his mouth to say something before the familiar voice of his brother reached him. 

“LUKEY BOY IS GETTING SOME!”

He shut his eyes, muttering a list of curses under his breath before he finally looked at you with a sheepish expression. “I’m so sorry about him. Just ignore him, he’s a little drunk and—”

“Hey, it’s fine,” you assured him with a laugh. “Work buddy?”

“Mhm,” Luke confirmed with a nod. “And my older brother.”

“That sounds like an intense work environment,” you commented.

“Tell me about it,” he grumbled, but there was still a smile on his face. “I wouldn’t blame you for making a run for it now while you have the chance. Jack will only get worse.”

You waved him off, smiling. “Your brother isn’t scaring me off,” you assured him. “Plus, I said I was intrigued and I’m enjoying talking to you. Makes it seem a lot more believable that you’re my boyfriend if that other dude is lingering around.” 

“Yeah, totally,” Luke agreed, something warm bursting in his stomach at the fact you wanted to keep talking to him. 

And despite what Jack and the others assume, nothing more happened between the two of you than just talking. It was bittersweet, in a way. Because Luke really enjoyed talking to you that night, even if he knew he would probably never see you again. 

But it was nice and it replayed in his head a lot more than he cared to admit that summer.

…

He assumed it was guaranteed that he would never see you again. 

So, it was pretty shocking when he did, in fact, see you again at a house party held by one of the boys of all fucking places in the pre-season.

As the new season approached and the overwhelming realisation that he was about to enter his rookie season of the NHL hit him, Luke didn’t even hesitate to accept the invitation for the ‘small get together’ with the boys. These were his teammates, these were the people he was going to have to trust and navigate on the ice with. It seemed like a nice idea to have a few chilled hangouts whilst training dragged everyone back to New Jersey.

What Jack and everyone else had failed to mention was the fact a ‘small get together’ did not just mean the team like he assumed. It meant a house full of people that Luke certainly didn’t know or recognise, but seemed to know exactly who he was. 

He was only slightly ashamed to admit that he clung onto Jack’s side as long as he could. But his brother was a social butterfly who liked to jump between different crowds and it was too much for Luke. Instead, he had settled near a couch where John and Kevin had been rambling away to each other when Jack suddenly appeared—out of thin air—with a huge grin on his face. 

“Hey, Rusty, is that not your girl from the bar?”

Luke’s brows furrowed together in confusion. “Huh?”

But Jack didn’t say much, just nudging his little brother to look over his shoulder. His lips parted again, prepared to tell Jack that he was drunker than he expected him to be after a few beers, only to find the words stuck in the back of his throat when he turned around and saw you.

He had thought about you more than he cared to admit over the summer. Just random little flashes of the conversations you shared. It was stupid, and a little pathetic, but you just felt…different—in the least cliche way possible.

It was almost embarrassing how quickly his cheeks just heated at the sight of you. 

No, correction: it was really fucking embarrassing. 

“Aw, did Lukey invite his lil’ crush?” Jack teased, reaching out to mockingly pinch his cheeks but Luke batted his hand away just in time.

“Shut up,” he grumbled before clearing his throat, turning to faze his brother again. “I didn’t. I–I don’t even know why she is here.”

Jack shot him a look. “Go on, then.”

Luke frowned. “What?”

“You are actually clueless,” Jack grumbled under his breath before giving him a hearty shove. “Go talk to her!”

His eyes widened. “What?!”

“Go talk to her,” Jack repeated, not understanding the panic in his younger brother. “You guys were hitting it off at the bar, what’s the big deal? Maybe you can hook up with her again.”

“I—” He started before realising this was not the time to delve into the same argument they had had since the night at the bar. “It’s fine, she probably doesn’t even remember me.”

His brother scoffed. “You’re shitting me, right?”

Luke blinked. “No?” 

“Dude, she was all over you!” Jack insisted, giving him another shove that had him stumbling slightly. “Go!”

Luke could feel his cheeks heating up. “Jack—”

“It’s my big brother duty to help you!”

Shove.

“Jack, fuck off. It’s not gonna happen.”

Shove.

“Yes, it will. Stop being a coward.”

Shove.

“Can you stop? I am not—”

Shove.

“Go talk to her!”

Shove.

“No—”

Except, the little shoves and lack of balance with the drinks he had been nursing through the night seemed to catch up on Luke. He stumbled back, his footing gone and his free hand reaching out to grasp Jack or something to stop him from falling. But it was too late. He was stumbling and his drink was sloshing and it went all over—

You. 

It went all over you because now you were right there, right in front of him, having just walked across the room to come and see him.

“Oh shit,” Jack muttered from behind him.

You looked down at your shirt—your very white shirt that now had some atrocious red stain splattered across the front from the cocktail John had made him—and stared in shock. 

Luke felt his whole body curl in on itself, his face burning and his chest feeling oddly tight. “I am so sorry—”

But, to his fucking shock (because you seemed to shock him a lot, if he was honest), you looked up at him and laughed. 

“Unlucky timing, huh?” You joked but Luke didn’t feel like laughing. 

“I can—” But he paused, not even sure what he was going to say. 

“Liking the colour red a little too much there, Cherry!” A voice from somewhere in the crowd—Luke genuinely wasn’t sure where—called out and your face brightened. 

“It’s a good thing I can pull it off!” You retorted, unfazed by the name. 

Cherry. 

Usually, Luke would chalk it up to his memory being fairly shit and the months that had passed since that night in the bar making him confuse your name for something else. Except, the boy had practically relived that night in his head on a constant loop. Every word. Every sentence. Every second of it. 

Pathetic? Yes.

Helpful? Probably not in any way, shape or fucking form except for the fact he was certain your name was not Cherry. He was more than certain. At least, he was certain that wasn’t the name you had told him. 

There were so many logical and simple reasons, he knew that deep down. But right now, Luke was embarrassed and flustered and he had this horrible inkling that you told him a fake name in case you thought he was a creep at the bar like the guy he saved you from and—

Yeah, Luke really didn’t like the idea of that. He didn’t like the idea of being paired in a category with that man. And he certainly didn’t like the idea that he made you uncomfortable enough to give him a fake name, even if he had given you no real reason to do otherwise. 

Someone pushed through the crowd as Luke continued to spiral in his own thoughts, unable to even get a coherent sentence out when Nico glanced between you and him. He let out a sigh, shaking his head as he offered you an apology before he turned to Luke.

“You can show her where the bathroom is, right?” 

And, fuck, he really thought this was the closest he could reach to ever feeling something close to hatred towards his captain.

Luke nodded his head, unable to get a word out and nodded towards the stairs. 

You seemed to catch his hint well enough as you turned to head towards the stairs. Until your hand was reaching back, taking his in your grasp and intertwining your fingers together and Luke’s brain short circuited all over again.

“Get it, Moose!”

Jack was pretty high on that almost-hate list too.

Luke felt like his body was on autopilot as he moved towards the stairs, letting you lead him up with your hands still connected until you reached the top. You looked at him expectantly and he led you towards the bathroom—one of the larger ones because he thought he would die if he was trapped in a small, enclosed space with you after he just spilled his drink all over you.

He opened the door, flicking the light on before stepping aside and letting you head inside. Except, the world seemed to have something against him, you dragged him into the bathroom behind you, your hands still connected, and grinned at him.

“Help a girl out?” 

Luke cleared his throat but nodded. 

He tried not to think too hard when you eventually dropped his hand. He tried not to think too hard when you locked the bathroom door. He tried not to think too hard as you glanced at him through the mirror. 

And he was doing well until you went and pulled your shirt over your head. 

His eyes widened, a spluttered noise of surprise leaving his lips as his eyes instantly snapped to the ceiling. But it was useless, he could already feel his blush crawling down his neck and burning hot.

“Relax,” you laughed. “I’m not giving you the full show. Just need to get this stain out.” 

“Mhm,” he hummed but his eyes remained on the ceiling. 

“Luke?”

“Yes?”

“Are you okay?”

“Uh huh.”

You let out a hum, like you didn’t quite believe him but you didn’t seem to push further. Instead, he heard the tap turn on and the water started running and suddenly, the bigger bathroom didn’t feel big enough.

“I’m not a creep!” He blurted out.

You paused. “Is that why you are staring at the ceiling? To prove you aren’t a creep?”

“No, well—” He cut himself off and let out a deep breath. “No, I just…your friend called you Cherry down there. You gave me a different name. I just…didn’t want you to think you had to give me a fake name because I was a creep. Granted, you don’t owe me anything but I just wanted to assure you—”

“Luke?”

He swallowed hard. “Yeah?” 

“I don’t think you’re a creep. And I didn’t lie about my name either,” you said, your voice a little softer this time. “People just call me Cherry.” 

And for a boy who ate, lived and breathed a sport that classically gave stupid nicknames to everyone and everything, he had never felt quite this dumb.

“Oh.” 

“Are you going to look at me now?” 

He waited for a moment. And then another. And then, before he chickened out of it, he lowered his gaze until he met yours—and didn’t let his eyes wander any further. 

“You’re an interesting boy,” you mused, tilting your head to the side.

His brows furrowed together. “Thank you?”

You grinned at his response before you turned back to the sink, seamlessly continuing to scrub your shirt under the running tap. 

Luke watched you for a few moments, trying to just stew in the silence and let you do your work. But the seconds kept ticking by and the silence was becoming more stifling and there was only so much he could handle before he wanted to rip his eyes out. 

“I’m sorry about my brother, by the way,” he said when he couldn’t think of anything else to say. “He’s a lil’ enthusiastic but he means no harm.” 

“He seems quite desperate to get you laid,” you noted, your eyes briefly finding him in the mirror again. “A lot of your friends do.”

His cheeks burned again. “They do that with everyone. They just like to be wingmen, you know?” 

Your eyes narrowed slightly on him. “But it makes you uncomfortable.” 

You say it like a fact, not a question. 

Luke choked a little. “Well—”

“Why not just tell them to back off?” You questioned and Luke welcomed the fresh, bitter twinge of embarrassment that washed over him.

“Because they would ask questions,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders. “It’s just easier to let them mess about.” 

You looked intrigued now. “Why?”

Luke shifted under the intensity of your gaze. “Because then they would ask why I didn’t want to hook up with anyone.” 

You raised your brows. “Not a one-night stand kind of man?”

And honestly, he should have just cut the conversation there. He should have deflected the topic onto something else or gave some vague answer. Hell, even telling you to mind your own business was a better answer. But the alcohol made him feel buzzed, your presence was overwhelming and—for the first time in his life—Luke found himself blurting out the words he swore he would take to the grave.

“Because I’m a virgin.” 

You blinked. And he fucking waited for it. 

He waited for you to laugh. He waited for you to laugh and howl and cackle at his pathetic admission. To mock him, to tease him, to make him feel worse than he already felt. He waited and waited and waited. 

And it never came.

“And you can’t tell them that?” You questioned.

“I, uh,” Luke shook his head, his stomach somersaulting inside him in the worst ways possible. “No, it’s a little…taboo in my line of work.” 

You turned to actually look at him instead of gazing at him in the mirror. “Are you a sex worker?”

Luke spluttered, shaking his head. “What? No! No, I…I’m a hockey player.” 

You frowned a little. “Hockey players can’t be virgins?” 

“Well, it’s not like a set rule but like,” he paused, waving his hands around like that explained everything. But you still looked confused and Luke knew he had to keep talking. “Everyone just kinda expects hockey players to be some kind of…sex god. Or something. I don’t know. All I know is that it’s not really common to be a virgin in the league.” 

“Okay,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest—where you still stood in only a bra covering yourself. “So, like, are you a virgin…by choice?”

“Oh my god,” Luke groaned, bringing his hands to cover his face before it got even more red.

“I don’t mean it in a bad way!” You assured him. “I was just curious.”

“Nobody was supposed to know,” Luke grumbled into his hands, but you seemed to understand him well enough.

“I won’t tell a soul,” you promised.

But the damage was done and Luke wanted nothing more than for the floor to open up and drag him into the depths of the Earth.

He needed to get out of this bathroom. He needed to get out and go downstairs, rush through a flurry of goodbyes to the team before he quickly escaped and headed home where he could hide his embarrassment in a large tub of mint chocolate chip ice cream that certainly wasn’t in his meal plan. 

He just needed to turn around, unlock the door and slip out before you had the chance to—

“What if I helped you?”

Yeah, that was not what he expected.

His hands dropped from his face as he stared at you, his expression almost blank except for the confusion shining in his eyes. “Huh?”

“What if I helped you?” You repeated.

“Helped me with what?” 

“Being a virgin,” you said with a shrug. “It seems like it’s really important to you, or something. And I think you are bigging it up in your head a little more than necessary. Maybe you just need someone to give you a helping hand, you know? Guide you through it, help you learn. No pressure, yeah?”

He blinked. “And…you would do that?”

“Yeah, why not,” you answered honestly with a shrug of your shoulders. “You intrigue me, Luke.”

“I intrigue you,” he repeated slowly, and he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“It’s not a bad thing to be intriguing.”

“It is when you make it sound like I’m some kind of experiment.”

You flashed him a softer smile and something in his chest eased a little. “You don’t have to say yes, it was just a suggestion. Just…a new friend helping her new friend out.”

New friend. 

Luke swallowed. “And…what would you gain from this?”

You sighed, shrugging your shoulders again. “Honestly? I’ve had my fair share of disappointing experiences in bed by guys who think they are sex gods. Call it a gift to womankind if I help at least one guy be competent and capable in bed.” 

He blinked. “Right. Gift to womankind. That’s me.’

You snorted. “Just think about it, yeah? Obviously, you can go about with whatever you are doing. Just a suggestion to make a casual thing out of it, to help take the stress away. It’s your choice, Luke.” 

It was his choice. 

He knew it was his choice and, despite knowing little about you, some stupid part of him trusted that you were being genuine. You were odd but you were sincere, and he knew your offer was sincere too. If he took you up on it, you would help him out. If he declined, you wouldn’t push the matter any further and just move on in your life. 

No more words were exchanged after that, the offer lingering and the tap still running as the red stain showed no signs of budging under the soap and cold water. He knew he didn’t have to give you an answer there and then. 

But the worst part was that Luke was pretty fucking sure he knew what his answer was the first time the offer left your lips.

And he pretty sure the remaining stain on your shirt was some sort of bad omen from the universe that already liked to tease him, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

He was fucking done being a twenty year old virgin and you were his solution to the problem.

.

[mama-waterlily]

Dionaea

Based on a text post I made that amassed 700 notes despite, in my opinion, being quite bad.

This is an ABDL story that contains drugging, noncon, intoxication, wetting, nursing, kidnapping, and slight bondage. All characters depicted are 18+.

The ice in my glass clinked as I idly stirred my gin and juice, gazing off into the distance and observing the other bar patrons. A few men playing pool, one of them gloating after sinking his third ball in a row. A couple of women arguing over whether or not one of them is sober enough to drive herself home (she absolutely isn't), and the bartender constantly checking the clock in boredom. I sat alone, as I didn't have any friends available to accompany me and I didn't want to just sit at home all night. I'm normally quite social--or at least was--with the exception of bars. Something about them felt so intimidating. Maybe it's simply that I haven't been allowed in them for longer than two years, and everybody around seemed to be quite a bit older than me. Maybe I simply had stage fright, as a bar is a space you go to specifically to seek socialization, so I just overthought it. I tried to clear my mind. I relaxed my shoulders and took the final sip of my wonderful, sweet, bitter, tart blend of gin and cranberry juice.

As I looked up from my drink, a flash of beautiful blue eyes caught my gaze from across the room. Captivating, like a siren's song. My attention wandered to the eyes' surroundings. Wavy black hair like silk, hanging chest-length beside a muted ruby-red dress with a cut that gave the eyes a little taste of the full breasts that lie underneath. I got a better view of her as she approached me. Her round face was creased with laugh lines and faint crow's feet. She looked to be about in her mid thirties. Her smooth, heart-shaped lips wore a tint of red to match her dress. I was so stricken that I almost didn't notice she was carrying a second drink beside her own martini... a gin and cranberry.

"Hey, beautiful."

The soft, flat voice that graced my ears was drenched in honey as the woman sat down and placed the drink in front of me. I felt myself blush immediately, and heavily. She came on very strong. I tried with all of my might to maintain eye contact and not look downward to the safety of my matte black satin dress. I couldn't push her away by seeming uninterested.

"Hey there."

I played it cool, clearing my throat and evening out my tone as to not squeak out my greeting. She grinned in response, as if she sensed the weakness behind my bride's veil of faux confidence. We made small-talk for a few minutes. She asked me what I like, I told her about my art projects, and she listened intently. I tend to pause quite frequently, worrying that I'm boring my conversational partner. But she seemed so interested that it never crossed my mind. She eyed my face so lovingly. When I inquired of her interests, she told me about her love of sewing and interior design. We discussed the typical things. What we do for work, if we have any pets, our favorite dinosaurs (Yes, I'm an overgrown child. Sue me), the usual game of poking and prodding to get a feel for the tone while I steadily nursed the drink she placed in front of me. She didn't really have a favorite dinosaur, and I had to break the terrible news to her that not only is "pterodactyl" not an individual species, it's also not a dinosaur. Devastating, I know.

Her presence was so comforting. She laughed at all of my jokes, she complimented my makeup, and she flashed glares at anyone staring at me. Almost as though she was guarding me. Like she had staked a claim on me. These were assumptions on my part, as I didn't know if she was into me, and part of me didn't care. She clearly enjoyed my presence. That was all that mattered in that moment, and I certainly appreciated the free drink. I was already tipsy off my first two, but I threw caution to the wind. Who cares if I get a bit sloshed? I'm having fun tonight.

Over time, I loosened up. I was still stricken by her, but she no longer felt as imposing or intimidating. The warmth of her enchanting eyes softened my mind and relaxed my muscles. I listened to her describe her living situation, what she looks for in a partner, and the racy things she's into.

"Nothing too crazy." She told me. "I like to... be a little rough. Fuzzy handcuffs, things of the sort. Hope you don't think I'm some sort of deviant." She joked.

I couldn't help but stare at her lips as she spoke. I almost felt guilty, imagining all of the things I wanted to do to her while she told me about herself. I thought of her lips pressed against mine. Against my belly. Against my thigh. Wrapped around my most intimate parts. My face grew red as I stared, and I'm certain she noticed.

My mind had steadily become clouded with intoxication. It had been a while since I last drank, so perhaps it was simply affecting me more. My tone of voice had grown far more easygoing and loud.

"Y'know? Y'know you're preeetty?" My speech began to slur. "I never as'd your name. Wha'ss your name?" I took another long sip of my drink.

She giggled at my drunkenness, which was growing more obvious. "Emerald, sweetie. But you can call me Em."

"Em-er-ald. Tha'ss pretty. You're pretty." My thoughts spilled out of my mouth without hesitation.

"Aww, you're a sweet little lady, aren't you? What's yours?" Emerald asked with a smile.

"Lilllly. Like the flowers." I rested my chin on my palm and smiled, still hopelessly caught in her gaze.

"Well that's quite a lovely name, little Lily." She spoke teasingly.

"Little?! Hey, I'm-I'm taller than you!"

"Taller, maybe..." She gestured to my platform boots. "But look at you. You're so frail that I could probably throw you, silly."

"Yeah? Well... well maybe I want you t' throw me?" My disastrous attempt at an advance slipped out of my mouth, and I immediately regretted my words. Maybe I want you to throw me? Really?

"Oh? Well maybe I'd love to." To my infinite shock, she reciprocated. Of course, I know now that I did embarrass myself. She was always going to take me regardless. We bounced flirtatious remarks back and forth for about another thirty minutes and nursed our drinks. I on my gin and juice, and she on her dirty martini. I had just finished my last cocktail when I checked the time on my phone. The screen was harsh and bright. It was so hard to focus that I had to ensure my glasses were still on my face. When I finally managed it, the numbers appeared as if they were waving. 11:30.

"Oh man, I g... I gossa go home. I'ss late." I stood up to my slightly wobbly feet.

Emerald perked up and took my hand. "Oh, no, young lady. You are absolutely not going home in that condition. I couldn't live with myself if you got hurt."

"Bu-But I..." I started, before Emerald cut me off.

"Why don't I take you to my place? It's nearby, and we can help you feel better before I take you home. Sound okay?" Her voice was reassuring.

It sounded too good to be true. This enchanting woman, offering to take me home with her. My face grew red as my prior fantasies returned to me. Far more cloudy than before, but taking over all of my thoughts.

"O-Okhay. That ssounds good."

She placed the olive from her glass into her mouth as she stood up from her seat and led me by my hand out of the bar. My face was numb and buzzy, and my legs were uncooperative. I felt as though I had never been this impaired before, I even needed help getting into the car and buckling my seatbelt. My memory of the ride is a bit of a blur. I stared mostly in silence at the trees, scenery, and signs as we passed by. The world looked as if it was pulsing. As if my vision was slightly zooming in and out. I lifted my glasses and rubbed my eyes, trying to clear my vision back to normal, and eventually deciding on keeping my eyes closed to keep my stomach settled.

We arrived at her house, and I sat with a blank expression as I observed my surroundings to process where I was. I got my grips, and opened the door. Emerald was already stood outside, waiting to help me out. How did she get there? Was she just fast? Or did it take me longer to process my surroundings than I'd thought? I tried to pull myself out of the car, and found I was incapable. I wasn't strong enough. I began to worry that something was happening to me.

"You have to unbuckle your seatbelt first, silly girl." Emerald reached in and freed me, before nearly lifting me up and placing me in a standing position next to her.

I blushed as I took her hand and followed her in silence, not wanting to acknowledge my embarrassing mistake. She led me inside and I braced my eyes for a harsh and burning white flash, only to be pleasantly surprised by warm, low light reflecting off of dark wood trim and brown walls. Everything looked so inviting and soothing to the eyes. She led me further inward, and I was essentially magnetized to the burgundy chair she stopped me at. A covering on the chair made a strange crinkling noise beneath me, but I hardly noticed. I assumed it was some fancy way of keeping vintage furniture nice.

"Let me get you some water, okay? We need to help you feel better."

I nodded, letting out a weak "Mhm."

Emerald left me in the living room as she prepared my water. I looked around at the soothing decor, a testament to her passion for interior design. The chocolate hues and vase of flowers on the coffee table kept my mind occupied until she returned and handed me the glass.

"Fhank you." I smiled at her in gratitude and placed the rim to my lips, letting the cold water pour down my waiting throat. I took a deep breath after finishing nearly the entire cup, and relaxed. She sat on a sofa adjacent to the chair, watching me in silence. She was... grinning. Admiring my natural beauty, I presumed.

As I waited to sober up, something felt wrong. My vision was growing wavier. My body felt heavy and weak.

"Emmm, I..." I could hardly speak. I was trying to focus on my words with everything I had. There was something wrong with me.

"Som'fing... my h-head..."

I felt a strange feeling growing between my legs. A faint warmth that I couldn't quite identify, as my entire body was overtaken with unfamiliar sensations. It began to spread beneath me and travel down my legs.

"Goodness, Lily, you're pissing yourself!" Emerald stood up with surprise--which I now know was feigned--and quickly moved over to me.

"Peee?"

My unsteady head turned downward, and her words were confirmed. A puddle was slowly dripping from my seat to the floor beneath me. I could hardly comprehend what I was seeing. My confusion and upsettedness were clouded so densely by the haze in my mind. All I could do was whine. My mind and mouth both refused to create words. I dropped my glass and spilled the remainder of the water onto the floor, contributing to the puddle as tears began to flow uncontrollably from my eyes.

"I... I..." I sniffled.

"Shh-shh-shh." Emerald leaned in and wrapped her warm arms around me. Her presence was comforting. My mind was scattered and confused, as I pieced together what she did.

"Y-Youu... My wa'er... My dj'ink..." I tried to stammer out furious accusations through my tears. My words came out slowly, as if they were passing through mud.

"Let's get you out of these yucky clothes, missy." Her change of tone was not lost on me. She was talking to me like I was a child.

She guided me to the floor from the chair that... remained dry underneath the conspicuous covering. She planned this. Even in my terribly impaired state, I could see this. But I couldn't respond. I couldn't comprehend it. I hardly knew what was happening when she began to remove my soaked dress and boots. I was left cold and exposed aside from my soiled panties and wet socks, which were also removed wordlessly. I tried to cover my breasts and private parts, but my hands disobeyed me. They waved uselessly beside my torso before they were grasped and placed back on the floor.

Emerald stroked my chest and whispered. "Just relax, baby. Let Mommy take care of you."

My mind was stirred in a confusing mess of fear and comfort. I could hardly form a coherent thought. I let my arms relax, trying to focus my eyes on something, anything to keep me grounded. The only visual respite I could return to lie inside of those bright blue eyes of hers. Those comforting, captivating eyes. I nodded. I didn't even know what I was nodding to. It felt natural, nearly involuntary. She ran her finger along my cheek and retrieved a canvas bag from behind the chair I previously sat in. She reached in, and produced a fluffy pink bit of cloth and a bottle of sweet-smelling powder.

"Mm-mmh!" I shook my head weakly as she cleaned my most sensitive areas with a cold wipe.

"Awww, I know, darling. Little Lily's so fussy, isn't she? We'll get you in some fresh, new... more appropriate clothing soon, okay?"

I let out an angered whine. It was all I could do as Emerald lifted me up and placed the diaper beneath my exposed backside, gently placing me back down onto the powder-covered plush. It felt... nice, admittedly. She sprinkled a generous amount of powder on my crotch, before pulling the thick cloth upward and taping it snugly to hug my hips. I whimpered in embarrassment and helplessness as she pulled me to a sitting position, making a taunting crinkling noise as I moved. I tried again to cover my exposed chest before she lifted my arms to pull an oversized pastel-purple shirt over my head. When she finished adjusting it into place, I looked down to see a big, yellow flower print on the front.

"Nnot baaby." I insisted, amidst the irony of being incapable of reading the wavy, upside-down writing emblazoned above the flower on my chest. My words slurred and struggled to escape my lips as I looked at her with my best attempt at an angered expression. I tried to pull myself to my feet, but fell helplessly back onto my puffy bottom after lifting myself less than three inches from the floor.

My struggling evoked nothing but endeared laughter from Emerald as she pulled a makeup wipe from her purse, and steadied my movements to erase the meticulously-crafted tough and dark exterior I applied to my face.

"This is quite inappropriate for such a little girl, Lily." Her patronizing words infuriated me, as much as I was capable of the feeling.

"Not... mmmh." My words eluded me.

My black lipstick and thick eyeliner were easily wiped from my skin, as if to symbolize the ease at which she gained control of me. She lifted me up off the floor, almost effortlessly. My attempt at struggle was manifest in a few twitches and taps against her chest as she sat down on the couch, laying me on my side across her lap and stroking my hair.

"It's going to be okay, sweetie. Mama's here."

I internally screamed at the confusing and genuine comfort I was feeling in her grasp. The situation was terrifying. She was terrifying. And yet, she was my only solace. The one there to care for me in my useless state. My frustrated vocalizations steadily calmed to silence. My head was so clouded. The words of resistance in my mind were swept away by the ocean current of the substances that disconnected me from my body. I let myself fully relax as I looked upward into her eyes. Emerald smiled down at me as she unzipped her dress. It fell to reveal a matching red bra, which was also removed. I was mesmerized by the sight of her breasts. Images of my fantasizing while sitting across from her in the bar returned to me. Her words rang in my head. Mama's here.

"Ma...ma..." My lips formed the word naturally.

Her eyes lit up as her throat produced a giggle.

"That's right, baby!" I smiled. Why did I smile? I was so confused. I couldn't understand what was happening to me.

Her arm lifted my head upward toward her breast. I knew exactly what she wanted, and I wanted it as well, whether I knew it or not. I parted my lips, allowing her nipple to enter my mouth. I began to suckle instinctively, much to her delight. My breath was stolen away as her sweet, smooth milk flowed into my mouth and down my throat. What am I doing? Why am I doing this? The last grasps of rationality struggled for dominance of my mind against the all-encompassing serenity I was feeling. Why do I... love it so much?

Mama...

She began to gently stroke the front of my diaper as my thoughts faded away. The only focus I was capable of fixated on the wonderful sensation of her fingers, the gentle crinkling that was produced as she caressed me, and the warm, sweet liquid draining into my stomach. There was nothing tangling me in worry. It was as though her milk was cleansing me of any apprehension or fear that was left within me. I hardly noticed when my bladder once again gave in, and released a spread of blissful warmth across my crotch. I didn't need to concern myself with leaks, or making a mess. The comforting heat of my urine traveled across my previously dry diaper as my eyes began to flutter.

I had nearly fallen asleep before I opened my eyes to see Mama pulling her dress back over her shoulders. She wiped a trickle of milk that was running down my cheek, and slipped a lavender pacifier between my still-parted lips to match my infantile shirt, which I accepted without question. Mere hours prior, I had been dressed in my flashiest, most mature outfit. A teasing black dress. Meticulous, darkly colored makeup that accentuated my beauty and gave me a sexy visage of mystery. Footwear that increased my height to summon a more powerful presence to me.

All of that was now gone. I was being gently led to my wobbling feet--nearly incapable of balance--in a soaked diaper and a babyish shirt, suckling on a pacifier. There was no tease, no mystery. No imposing stature. Anybody who laid eyes upon me could see everything that I was, with nothing to hide behind.

I... I think.

Is this what I truly was? What I am? I don't remember anymore. It was out of my hands. Mama decided for me, and judging by the glee in her eyes as she watched me sway back and forth while grasping her hand for balance, she was very happy with her decision. She slowly led me by my hand down the hallway. My steps were clumsy and unsteady, not at all helped by the thick, saturated padding between my thighs. Every step was increasingly difficult. With every suckle, my eyelids grew heavier. I wanted nothing more than to lay my weary head to rest.

"S'eepy..." My tired lips produced the word without thought. The response I received was a silent stroke of my hand with Mama's caring thumb.

We approached a door at the end. It opened to what I expected to be her bedroom, where we would lie together and I would fall asleep in her arms. What I was presented with instead, was an oversized nursery. Complete with a night light, a crib with an extra set of bars to cover the top, and a soft table in the corner. It was entirely decorated with saccharine pastel colors and animals. I didn't have the energy to take in my surroundings. My eyes and feet were led immediately to the cozy bed I saw before me.

I placed my hands on the soft mattress and was immediately lifted by Mama's strong hands into a supine position. It felt so nice to lay down. She placed a black plush bear in my arms, about the size of my torso, and I squeezed it lovingly. Every sensation I felt after bringing myself to a resting position was bliss. The soothing warmth between my legs and against my bottom. The blanket that cradled my body. Mama's sweet fingers running through my hair. The comforting hug of the collar as she fastened it around my neck, and the sweet rattling of the chain that connected it to the side of the crib. The gentle kiss she placed on my cheek. The secure click of the padlock that left me imprisoned after the bars had been raised and the top had been closed, fitting together to create a wooden cage. The smooth pacifier bobbing between my lips. Her caressant voice which filled my ears and washed over me like a warm bath. Everything that graced my mind was like a lullaby.

"Sweet dreams, little Lily. You're mine now. Forever. Your silly mind probably can't understand that right now, though."

The giggle that rose from her throat. It was all so lovely. So serene.

So...

So sleepy...

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

finally made one of my biggest posts into an actual story!! i honestly kind of hate that post. i didn't expect it to get big, i was just horny fantasizing and it sort of jarringly switched from a fantasy text post format to a story format with no transition. it was made before i really knew i wanted to express myself through writing on this blog, and before i was versed in writing smut. i'm kind of surprised so many people like it. it's a nice fantasy, but it's it's quite poorly written. regardless, here you go, loves.

i was actually mostly imagining myself as emerald while writing this story, but i placed myself as the protagonist because it was based on a text post that was written in first person. that's the wonderful thing about being switchy though, isn't it?

also: dionaea is the name of the genus that contains the venus fly trap.

gin and cranberry is my favorite drink, though i did think it was a cute contrast to have me drinking juice and emerald drinking a more stereotypically mature cocktail as a little bit of foreshadowing.

remember that this is fiction, don't accept a drink at a bar from anyone but the bartender. and obviously don't fucking drug anyone.

love y'all. thank you for reading 🖤

[rafesteddy]

A Goddess - Rafe Cameron One Shot

+18 Minor DNI

CollegeHockey!Rafe x Curvy!Reader

⭐ republished ⭐

+18 Minor DNI

🪄 warnings: SMUT, drinking, swearing, soft dom Rafe, oral (male receiving), oral (female receiving), rough oral, praise kink, unprotected p in v, creampie, and spanking.

📖 ask: Ok, hear me out: a group of beautiful girls and their gorgeous curvier friend, night out at a bar. Guys hitting on all of them but the curvy goddess. Rafe notices and decides to approach her. She's sassy vibes, he's soft Dom vibes.

✨“Nah… M’gonna stop you right there. ‘Cause you said, ‘Anything I’d like.’ Don’t be goin’ back on your word, princess.” ✨

3.2 K

Rafe’s POV:

“Jesus, Rafey. Losin’ your touch, baby?” Kelce snickers as he nabs my freshly cracked White Claw off the bar top.

“Uh, yeah. Two more White Claws and a shot of Tito’s on his tab, sweetheart,” I call to the bartender, firing her a wink. She shakes her head and smiles, draining the liquor in a glass passing two more drinks my way.

“Thanks for the liquor, baby.” Kelsey rolls his eyes and scoffs. “And, no. To answer your question, I haven’t lost shit.”

“Well, you usually got a girl or two by now…”

“I don’t need to try as hard as you, Kelc. Don’t worry about me. You could learn a thing or two? Been watchin’ your game all night. It’s rough.”

“By all means, King Cameron, show me how it’s done,” he mocks. I quickly down my shot, chasing it with a seltzer.

Kelce snakes through the thick crowd of college students bellied up at the bar, a packed dance floor in the center. I can’t help but laugh at my group, fawning over yet another variety pack of copy-and-paste girls. They’re beautiful, don’t get me wrong, but it’s the same shit every weekend. Kelce struts over to the last of the bunch, leaving me to break away; what a shame.

I walk toward the bar, leaning back into it as I stare into the crowd. ”A vodka cranberry. Please.“ I hear a soft voice come from my left. “Thank you.” That same girl hums as I look down in her direction, watching as she scribbles her name across the tab, passing it back. That’s a pretty name.

Her beautiful eyes flick to mine. A sweet smile falls on her plump lips. My eyes fall, lashes fluttering as I try my best to hide what an actual fuckin’ dog I truly am, but, my god… She’s a fucking goddess. Her cleavage is tied with a pretty little bow in the middle of her dress. Fuck me. I feel my cock twitch, eyes slamming shut; cheeks reddening in embarrassment. I’m too ashamed to even look back in her eyes for how long I’ve ogled her.

My gaze moves to hers again, still met with that same smile but a cocked brow this time. “You okay?” She chuckles.

“Mhmm…” I grunt. That’s it. That’s all I got.

“Alright… Have a nice night,” she giggles lightly before turning away, dress moving with her. The thin material hits just below her perfect ass, leaving her legs on display. Her dress shifts on her round hips as she moves, her ass recoiling with each step making my eyes roll back.

And, then, she stops just a few feet away. Joining my crowd, one of the girls hugs her. Another, leaning in to whisper something that makes her laugh. She lifts the drink that she bought, surrounded by a group of fuckin’ boys who should have bought it for her. A girl like that doesn’t need to do that shit. Not one of them is making a move. I hang back, watching her a little as she sips her little drink.

The petite blonde Kelce was talking to gives him a fake laugh and a nod, stepping away; Kelc, obviously struck out with her. His head is instantly on a swivel, looking around the group for another, matching eyes hers briefly before searching for the next. Kelce buries his White Claw before doubling back in her direction. Hell no. I walk toward the two of them, intercepting his efforts; shoving him away lazily. Her beautiful eyes widen in surprise as she looks back up at me.

Reader’s POV:

”Uhh… Hi again. Are you lookin’ for Alexis? She just went to the bathroom-“

”Who?“ He furrows his brow, the most delicious smile spreading on his lips as he steps even closer.

”Alexis. Sorry, these guys seemed to know her.“ You twirl your finger, gesturing to the men gathered around.

“Nah. Never met her. What’s your name?”

“Umm, Y/n,” you chuckle nervously as you look up at him. He’s gorgeous, even in the dim bar; light hair, light eyes, muscular… Holy shit. You reach out your hand, resting it on his chest as you lean closer. “I’m just visiting. What’s your name?”

He bites his lip, looking down, eyeing the contact between you. He draws a little breath, his arm wrapping around your body, resting on the small of your back. “I’m Rafe.”

“Rafe Cameron?”

“Yeah. Oh, shit. What did I do?” He winces.

“Horrible things,” you tease, tapping your hand on his chest. “No. I remember your name from the hockey game.” He gives you an open-mouthed smile, drawing you even closer. “You were in the penalty box a lot.”

“What? Me?” He asks with an exaggerated tone, pointing at himself. “Never.” Rafe’s eyes trail your body again, just like they did when you got your drink; when you weren’t sure if he was interested or just lost in a drunken daze. “You’re stunning, by the way,” he rasps.

Your cheeks warm up, butterflies swirling in your stomach at his compliment, finding yourself a little too stunned to speak. You lift your drink to your lips, taking a sip as you try to center yourself. ”Thank you.“

“It’s almost last call. Did you wanna get outta here?” He asks.

“Well – I. Umm… I should wait for these girls.”

“Eh. They come to our house every weekend, sweetheart. It’s up to you. And, if I’m somehow wrong… And hell freezes over. I’ll get you home safe. I swear. Scouts honor.”

“They come to your house every weekend, and you didn’t know Alexis?” You question as you guide your gaze to your gorgeous best friend. You feel his finger hook under your chin, directing your eyes back to his.

“Not my type.”

“This better, y/n?” Rafe asks as he pulls you in a little closer for warmth. His strong arms wrap around your body, chest pressed against your back as you wait for the Uber. You take in his rich cologne, the warmth of his cheek so close to yours.

“Perfect,” you hum.

“So, you’re just here for the weekend?” He asks; chills fan across your body as his breath hits your neck, just a slight gravel in his voice making you powerless.

“Just to visit. I’m comin’ next semester, so I thought I should check it out.”

“No fuckin’ way,” he asks excitedly, turning you to face his chest instead. “You’re comin’ here? Well, shit. We can do this every weekend. Huh?”

“This? And, what is ‘this,’ Rafe?” You ask in a breathy tone. His broad palms move a little lower, just a hair.

”Anythin’ you’ll let me.“ You give him a little nod, letting him know he can go a little further. ”Words, princess.“

”You can do whatever you’d like, Rafe.“

A devilish smirk tugs on his lips. Rafe is more than satisfied with your answer as his hands rest on your ass. ”You’re gonna let me do whatever I want? You sure?“

“I mean, unless you don’t wa-” He steals your teasing words off your tongue, kissing you deeply. His hands shift to the back of your neck, pulling you nearer. Rafe slows down slightly, lips parted, letting you slip your tongue inside, rolling slowly. You scratch your nails through his dark blonde buzz cut, making him moan against your lips.

”Anything you’d like,“ you whisper again, feeling his smile spread along your lips.

The two of you are breathing heavily already, panting into your kiss, his lips on yours before you can even reach his bedroom. He pins you against the wall, lips locked on your neck as you pinch the buttons of his shirt, drawing them open, revealing more skin as you go.

Rafe leads you into his bedroom, throwing the door shut. His rough hands work up your arms, thumbs brushing your straps off your shoulders. Your dress slips to the floor, making him draw back fast. “Y/n, fuck,” he groans as his hands instantly caress your curves.

He snaps the lace at your hip, tugging at it impatiently as the other squeezes your tit. “You’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” he smiles, extending a finger for you to twirl under. “Look at this ass, baby. Shittt,” he moans as he cracks your skin, making you giggle delightedly.

“Thank you.” You slip the shirt off Rafe’s broad shoulders, tracing his tanned chest, working your way down as you take in his perfect physique. There’s not an ounce of self-consciousness, not with how he’s looking at you. You run your nails lightly through the ripples of his abs, tracing his v-lines, slipping just under the elastic of his boxers.

Rafe loops his fingers around your delicate lace thong, drawing it down to the floor, snagging it quickly before lofting it onto his dresser. ”Keepin’ those. Yeah?“

“M’kay.”

“Collateral. I expect you’ll come and take them back when you visit me. Yeah?”

“Okay… I mean. Yeah. Of course,” You giggle, nipping at your bottom lip. You grab his belt, drawing it open. Rafe pulls them off his hips as your lips meet his neck, sucking roughly.

You move lower, licking along his collarbone. His abs flex as you pass over them, dropping to your knees. “Shit, y/n,” he breathes. Your eyes widen as you take him in. White, skin-tight boxer briefs bunched up slightly on his thighs. His shaft and head stick out the bottom, strangled in cotton, leaking from the tip, dripping slightly down his inner thigh, aching to be freed.

You lean in, gaze locked on his as you glide your tongue along the mess. “Holy shit,” he whispers, yanking at the elastic, craving more. You tease him further: massaging his precum into his swollen tip as he watches on, dick pulsing with each brush of your finger.

You draw his boxers low, cock, swinging free, standing straight. “Fuck me, Rafe,” you whimper, taking a grip on his dick, rock-hard in your hands, feeling your cunt throb. He lets out a drawn-out moan as you wrap your lips around his mushroom tip, watching as his eyes shut softly.

“Mmm… Yes, baby,” he praises. You can taste him on your tongue; salty, just a hint of sweetness. Rafe’s fingers instantly reach for you, tangling into your hair. He follows your guide as you work his dick inch by inch, pushing yourself to see how much of him you can get. His warm tip kisses the back of your throat. You can feel the blood pumping in his cock.

You sweep your tongue along the bottom, feeling every ridge and vein. “Fuck, y/n. So fuckin’ good. Feel so good,” he mumbles, the pleasure in his voice making your eyes roll back. You fuck his aching cock deep into your throat, vision clouding as tears gather in your eyes. Blinking your sights, you feel warm tears roll down your cheeks, making Rafe smile. “Good girl,” he groans. “Look at you. Shit.” Rafe’s hips jostle, the muscles in his thighs tightening under your hands.

Popping off his cock you kiss his tip before opening your mouth wide, slapping his dick against your tongue. “Use me,” you whisper warmly, taking him back into your mouth as you grip his wrists; Rafe’s fingers are already twisted in your hair.

“Where have you been, pretty girl?” He grunts. “So fuckin’ perfect.” Rafe pitches his hips, dick driving into your throat, taking you by surprise. You relax your throat as he picks up pace. The squelching of spit, groans, and muffled moans fill the room as he ruts deep. You gag on his cock, making his eyebrows furrow. “Gonna cum. Gonna fill that pretty mouth. You ready, baby? You gonna – You gonna be a good girl and swallow it all for me?”

Rafe’s head tosses back as he praises your name; that same taste amplified as his cum coats your throat. You drop your hands, gripping his ass, feeling his muscles pulse. “Holy shit, y/n,” he gasps, wiping a glaze of sweat off his forehead as he looks down at you in awe. You draw off his cock nice and slow.

“Good?” You pant through a smirk.

Rafe picks you up effortlessly, wrapping your legs around his waist as he moves you to the bed. ”Good?“ He snickers at the ridiculousness of your question. ”Not even close, angel,“ he mumbles as he leans in for a kiss. ”M’serious. Alright? Not waitin’ ’til next semester. You’re visitin’ me. You can suck my cock just like that, baby girl, and I can taste this sweet fuckin’ pussy whenever I’d like. Alright?“

”Yeah?“

”Mhmm… You’re gonna ride my face. How does that sound?“

Your stomach sinks at his request. ”Rafe… I don’t kn-“

“Nah… M’gonna stop you right there. ‘Cause you said, ‘Anything I’d like.’ Don’t be goin’ back on your word, princess.”

“It’s just-”

“I mean, unless you don’t wa-” You steal his teasing words off his tongue this time, kissing him deeply. Rafe chest presses into yours, craving you closer.

He lays down on the bed, beckoning you. Rafe touches you softly, brushing his hands up your legs; his lips connect to your inner thigh, sending shivers down your spine. ”You ever done this before?“ He asks. ”Or am I the first?“

”You’re the first,“ you whisper, looking down at him nervously.

”A virgin. Huh? You’re gonna love it. Alright? Grab the headboard, y/n,“ he smiles. ”C’mon.“ You feel his warm breath against your pussy, making you weak already. ”C’mon,“ he growls again in playfully tone, pulling you down.

”Fuck, Rafe,“ you pant longingly as you feel his warm tongue, licking up your silk to your clit. He moans against your cunt; the vibrations are electrifying; your sensitivity, at an all-time high.

”Mmm, you taste so fucking good, Y/n,“ he moans, locking tightly onto your clit. Rafe sucks and holds you in his mouth, using his tongue to flick. Your thighs instantly start to quiver. He grips your body, guiding you to rock back and forth. ”Sit, baby,“ he pants, hungrily.

”Rafe…“

”Sit.“ He slaps you roughly on the meat of your thigh, overpowering you; burying himself in your pussy.

”Oh… Just – Just like that,“ you moan; bringing your hands up, squeezing your breasts tightly. You feel your orgasm in reach. ”Rafe, do I cum like this?“ You pant frantically. He doesn’t answer, continuing to please you. You cry out as his finger slips into your entrance; his ringed digit gives you a little extra friction. The combination of both is absolutely euphoric. His mouth and hands play together beautifully; jolts of pleasure spur through your body as you grind your hips. Rafe increases his pace, moving at an unforgiving tempo. The sloppy sounds of your cunt, heard through the room as well.

”Rafe,“ you whimper, breathlessly; your pleasure about to bubble over. “I’m gonna… Oh my god,” you scream in pleasure. Rafe runs circles on your clit as you ride out your orgasm.

”God, you’re so beautiful, baby,“ he gasps as he sits up against the headboard. ”You taste so sweet. That feels good, princess?“ He asks as he brushes a few stray tears off your cheek.

”So fucking good,“ you barely manage to speak between breaths.

“Good, baby. Can’t believe that was your first time…” You can hear the genuine surprise in his tone, boosting your confidence even more. Rafe relaxes into the headboard, biting back a smile as you reach your hands behind your back, unclasping your bra, letting it fall onto his lap.

”Perfect fuckin’ tits,“ he hums. You toss your head back as he kisses you roughly, pressing your breasts together, licking a line in between. He locks down on your nipple; swirling, flicking, and nipping your pebbled flesh. Rafe runs his tongue along his bottom lip, his eyelids hooded. ”Mmm… Can I fuck you, princess?“ He gives you a hopeful smile as his eyes continue to roam your body.

”How do you want me?“

He looks down, eyeing his cock between your thick thighs. His gaze returns to yours; a smirk spreads on his lips. “Just like this, baby girl.” He seizes his dick in his hand, leaning back slightly. You bite your lip, giving him a little nod.

You drop down slightly, your wetness transferring to his cockhead. “Fuck me.” He lets out a loud groan; eyes, rolling back. Your lips meet his neck, kissing him roughly, licking and nibbling his skin. Reaching around your back, you skim Rafe’s tip with your fingers; he lets out a deep groan.

You press him toward you, guiding him to your heat. Rafe takes a handle on the plush of your hips, pressing you down. Your knees widen on the sheet as you work lower, pressure building between your thighs as he starts to stretch you out. ”Fuck, Rafe,“ you whine. Letting out a sharp breath. You look down, watching as you take the last of him.

”Are you okay, y/n?“ He whispers. There’s a fire in his eyes. Rafe, fully aware of his size. You can tell he’s taking satisfaction in asking you so sweetly as he splits you in two.

”M’okay,“ you whimper. Rafe smiles wickedly in reply.

”Good. I’m not gonna last long. This pussy feels too fucking good.“ He chuckles weakly.

You start rolling your body slowly, mewling softly into his mouth as you adjust to him. Your hands move up his tight stomach, resting on his chest. Grinding and winding gradually, you press your hands against him; tilting your body away slightly. Rafe watches carefully as you work him in and out of your wet pussy; hands inching up your stomach, past your rib cage, massaging your breasts. His tongue meets your nipple; fingers delighting the other.

Rafe takes you in his arms, shifting the two of you lower on the bed. You sink a little deeper on his cock; inhaling sharply when he lays flat. He lets out a lusty chuckle as you release a drawn-out moan. ”You like that? Not too much?“ He taunts.

A wide smile spreads on your lips as you toe the line between ache and bliss. ”Just right.“

“This body was made for me, I swear,” he mumbles. “Bounce for me, baby.” You start to push on the mattress, breasts moving with you as your skin slaps against Rafe’s lap. “Holy shit,” Rafe huffs through his kiss-swollen lips; hooded eyes fighting to stay open as he takes you in. Rafe slips his hands around to your ass, spanking one cheek, then the next. Causing your pussy to tense with each slap.

“Mmm… You gonna cum for me, princess?” He croons as his hand, rests against your pelvis; thumb circling your clit. The added contact makes you lose your rhythm. Rafe fucks up into you, holding you in place as he continues to stroke, fighting back his pleasure; but, it’s too much.

“Gonna cum,” he mumbles.

“Cum inside me, Rafe,” you whisper. ”M’on the pill. It’s alright.“

”That what you want?“ He asks with a lust-laced tone.

“Cum in me.”

Rafe reaches for you, wrapping his arms around your body, taking you quickly to your back. He spreads your thighs wide. Your breath escapes your chest when he plunges himself back in; his fingers greet your clit. Your legs start to quake, jagged breaths as he starts pounding you into the soft mattress. “Oh Rafe...” You cry in pleasure as you gush around his cock.

“Gonna cum in this perfect fuckin’ pussy,” he breathes, voice wavering. “Mmm… Fuck, y/n,” he groans; gripping your hips in his hands, eyes rolling into the back of his skull as his cock throbs; heavy loads of cum buried deep. Rafe expels a deep breath, his mouth connecting with yours the next moment.

He pulls out, making you reach for a breath; as he watches your share release drip out of your puffy pussy onto his sheets. The emptiness is comforted by Rafe’s hand on you again, fingers swirling through the wetness, stuffing it back inside.

Sex hangs heavy in the air; your bodies, tangled in sheets. Rafe cups your face in his hand, rubbing your cheek with his thumb. “Tell me you’re free tomorrow?”