#early requests will be deleted

[daily-basil]

icon!

[starflungwaddledee]

been working on answering a prompt i received in an ask the other day, and so i'm back thinking about... the Thing... 💖🎀 and thought maybe prompt doodles might help me work through this a little?

so uhhh.... if by any wild chance anyone has any ship suggestions for starstruck...??? feel free to send them through!

[born-to-lose]

Spotify shuffle knew what it was doing to me when I started listening to The Monkees and the first song it gave me was Star Collector 😭

[alkeneater]

REQUEST! Jfk and Frida!! doesn't matter what they're doing.

anon again? sighhhh

not making exceptions for you, sorry <3

[checkeredflagggs]

Family Vacation

Pairing: max verstappen x girlfriend!reader

summary: when max gets called to Milton Keyes, y/n takes the kids on a family vacation

a/n: requested! I changed the request just a little to better fit with the story but I hope you like jt!

Masterlist | Taglist | Rookies Masterlist

redbullracing

liked by user, user, user, and 1,823,238 others

tagged: maxverstappen1

redbullracing: the work never stops! But it is 2 parts work to 1 part naps…

view all comments

user1: sleepy max!

↳user2: oh my god it’s sleepy max

user3: ok but how many of those trophies are there because of max??

↳user4: oh so many…

↳user5: that’s our goat

user6: why is he in Milton Keyes??

↳user7: that’s his job??

↳user6: you can’t tell me he couldn’t do most of that from his home?

↳user7: why wouldn’t he go to hq?

↳user6: because his very pregnant girlfriend is at home???

↳user7:…oh

user8: man he’s jetting around isn’t he…

↳user9: what do you mean?

↳user8: y/n was live last night and the 2 of them were cooking together which means he had to have left for England late last night or very early this morning

user10: the vibes are off on this post…

↳user11: it’s because y/n hasn’t commented. usually she’s already here, making fun of max for his redbull obsession, his sleepiness…

↳user10: uh oh…

↳user11: uh oh indeed

Private Messages, Max and y/n

Private Messages, y/n and the kids

Bluesky

user12: Disneyland!!

user13: oh to be able to jet off to Disney whenever I want…

user14: Isn’t she like? Extremely pregnant?

↳user15: she is, yes. while they haven’t given an exact date (nor should they!) she was suspected to have been pregnant back around December

↳user16: is it safe for her to be there?

↳user17: I mean it’s her body and her baby but yeah? There’s a bunch of stuff she could do there that’s not rides — and even then there’s some rides she can still go on

user18: ok is anyone else gonna say something?

↳user19: that it’s very weird that she’s randomly taking the kids to Disneyland when max is still in England? And that she was very conspicuously absent from redbull’s last post??

↳user18: oh thank god it wasn’t just me…

↳user19: me thinks that someone is in the doghouse…

y/n

liked by maxverstappen1, oscarpiastri, landonorris, and 2,823,192 others

tagged: olliebearman, kimi.antonelli, jackdoohan, isackhadjar, gabrielbortoleto_, liamlawson30

y/n: Disney time with my sons 💜

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user20: is there an application I can fill out?

↳user21: Right? Like how do I join this family?

↳y/n: be a young race driver who the commentators of the sport won’t shut up about! Even though they should be professionals!

↳user21: dragging them for filth and they aren’t even here…

↳y/n: oh trust me they’re aware of my thoughts on them

oscarpiastri: I thought what we had meant something…

↳y/n: oh darling you are absolutely invited for the next family vacation but you’re currently in Australia

↳oscarpiastri: I will absolutely take you up on that 👍🏻

maxverstappen1: DISNEY??

this comment has been deleted

maxverstappen1: YOURE AT DISNEY???

this comment has been deleted

maxverstappen1: YOURE 8 MONTHS PREGANT WHAT ARE YOU DOING

this comment has been deleted

user22: did anyone else see max’s comments or was that just me?

↳y/n: it was just you babe

↳user22: …

↳user22: whatever you say queen! liked by y/n

Private Messages, Max and y/n

Private Messages, Max and the kids

y/n

liked by maxverstappen1, olliebearman, kimi.antonelli, and 1,823,293 others

tagged: olliebearman, kimi.antonelli, jackdoohan, isackhadjar, gabrielbortoleto_, liamlawson30

y/n: the past few days 💜

view all comments

user23: love this!

olliebearman: thanks again for taking us!

↳y/n: it was a pleasure darling

↳user24: this is still the best thing to come out of this season…

maxverstappen1: i hope you had fun, mijn leeuwin

↳y/n: 💜

↳user25: still in the doghouse I see…

kimi.antonelli: best vacay ever!

↳y/n: I’m so glad you had fun sweetie

↳y/n: and I’m very glad I choose not to ride with you on the teacups

↳user26: how bad were they?

↳y/n: He and liam had a competition on who could get their teacup to go faster. Honestly I felt bad for isack and ollie but c’est la vie

↳isackhadjar: never again

↳olliebearman: I mean it was kinda fun…

↳gabrielbortoleto_: I’m glad I was with y/n

↳jackdoohan: same

user27: I spy with my little eye some animal plushies!

↳y/n: there were cats and lions…how could I resist?

↳user28: understandable. continue on

Private Messages, Max and y/n

y/n

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri, and 3,129,283 others

y/n: everyone meet Nino!

view all comments

user29: I’ve only had Nino for 2 seconds but if something happened to him I’d kill everyone then myself

↳user30: seriously I’d help

charles_leclerc: i see you’ve seen the light

↳y/n: yes yes yes we now have a dog. don’t get a big head

↳charles_leclerc: it’s ok to admit you’re a copycat (let’s meet up soon)

↳y/n: it’s ok to admit you’re in love with max (come over whenever, just lmk)

↳user31: mom help me im scared — the wife and mistress are getting along liked by y/n, charles_leclerc

oscarpiastri: i demand a meeting with my new brother

↳y/n: you and Lily are always welcome

↳oscarpiastri: on our way now

alex_albon: welcome to the club

↳y/n: club?

↳alex_albon: the “we’re very close to owning a zoo club”

↳y/n: we have 3 cats and a dog

↳alex_albon: like I said — welcome to the club

maxverstappen1: ok when you said we needed to talk I didn’t think it was going to be because you got a dog

↳y/n: 🥹🥹🥹

↳maxverstappen1: he’s adorable liked by y/n

Taglist

Please interact with my taglist post if you want to join — I don’t always check the notes on the individual posts

@anamiad00msday @suns3treading @daniskywalkersolo @awritingtree @justheretoreadthxxs @coral7161 @lost4lyrics @mastermindbaby @freyathehuntress @angelluv16 @nichmeddar @mxm47max @justaf1girl @a-beaverhausen @tallrock35 @elizamoe133 @jessica3478 @il0vereadingstuff @widow-cevans @1-of-my-many-obsessions @charlesgirl16 @anunstablefangirl @evie-119 @sugarfreerbr @princessesgarden @mayax2o07 @teti-menchon0604 @galaxygurlll @star73807-blog @shelbyteller @ihaveitprinteddout @lilymaleshka @kuolonsyoja @allthings-fandom @mountainshuman @hannahmotors10 @moonypixel @nikfigueiredo @daisydaze111 @deephideoutmilkshake @mimisweetz @books-fangirl-books @woderfulkawaii @fastandcurious16 @lilyofthevalley-09 @dying-inside-but-its-classy @bookishprophecy @rexit-mo

[wqnwoos]

⇢ pairing. chwe vernon x reader ⇢ summary. vernon loves music, and you love vernon. ⇢ genre. fluff, bffs2lovers, college!au ⇢ word count. approx. 2k ⇢ author’s note! happy (early) valentine’s day! i unfortunately wrote this last week which means it came so close to deletion at least 10 times, and so im posting it now to prevent that. thank you to alta @haologram for helping me brainstorm the playlist, i truly believe u are a gift to this world.

playlist. love language, kehlani / jasmine, dpr live / want u around, omar apollo & ruel / like i want you, giveon / thinkin bout you, frank ocean / best part, daniel caesar & h.e.r.

It’s closing in on two in the morning when you finally leave the library. Your phone’s been on do not disturb since you got there at seven, which feels like forever ago — as you exit, casting a sympathetic glance at the remaining two students still glued to their textbooks, you scroll quickly through your notifications. Two emails, a follow request, and a passive-aggressive threat from Duolingo.

You pull your coat tighter around you as you finally emerge through the last set of double doors — it’s freezing, and you’re just about to stow your hands deep into your pockets when your phone buzzes.

[2:03am] vernon 👽🖤 yo [2:03am] vernon 👽🖤 ur prob asleep but i made u smth [2:04am] vernon 👽🖤 https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4grGIbqG5VSvNpDLuwdG7X

Instinctively, you smile. You and Vernon have a bunch of playlists. A collaborative one, for when you’re together, driving or hanging out or whatever. Then he has one for you with all the songs he thinks you’ll like, and then you have one for him for the same reason. 

[2:05am] you another one?  [2:06am] vernon 👽🖤  yooo why are u still up dude [2:06am] you hypocrite 🫵 [2:06am] you but i’m walking home from the library rn

vernon 👽🖤  is calling . . .

“Dude,” he says, by way of greeting, and he doesn’t sound impressed.

“Dude,” you mimic exactly, biting back a smile at the sound of his voice.

“It’s two in the morning,” he sighs, and you can hear sheets rustling in the background. “Why are you walking home alone?”

“It’s not far, Vernon.” 

“It’s dark and it’s been snowing. You should have called me,” he reprimands without any heat. “I would’ve picked you up.”

“Well, it is two in the morning.” You cross the road, stepping over a patch of snow. “I assumed you’d be asleep, not curating another playlist.”

“Oh. Yeah, that — that was — have you opened it?” Vernon’s words trip over each other, and your lips turn up ever so slightly. God, he’s so sweet.

“What, are you nervous?” you tease, unable to resist. “I have, like, fifteen of your playlists saved already.”

“You haven’t opened it,” he infers, and exhales a little. “Okay, um, maybe you should… wait. Until the morning or something.”

“Yeah, right,” you snort. “I’m listening to it now! It’s going to keep me company on my way home. Talk to you later!”

And you hang up before he can protest, already scrolling to find the link he sent you.

The first thing you notice is the name — Love Language. Which makes your heart twist a little, until you realise it’s the name of the first song, and anyway, you and Vernon have made this joke a hundred times. His love language is making playlists, he does it for his friends all the time. You included — you especially. Like the time he’d eaten the last slice of a cake you’d bought, apparently because he thought it was free-for-all. You’d given him the silent treatment for a day and a half before he’d texted you a playlist link: 

I AM (IVE)

really (mimi bay)

Sorry (Justin Bieber)

About (SoKuen)

EATING (Sukihana)

The Cake (John Powell)

I Will (Remastered 2009) (The Beatles)

Buy (Cousines like Shit)

You (Basil Valdez)

MORE (j-hope)

Please Please Please (Sabrina Carpenter)

Forgive Me (Chloe x Halle)

It made you laugh, because Vernon always makes you laugh. A few months and a few playlists later, you were harbouring the biggest crush known to mankind.

That was three years ago. You and Vernon are seniors now, set to graduate next summer, and what was meant to be a harmless crush on a friend has turned into being completely, totally in love with your best friend. It wasn’t that serious until it suddenly was. It was butterflies in your stomach when you saw him, at first. Now it’s like a sigh of relief. It's more coming home. Which is a lot more dangerous, and a lot more painful.

You handle it, most days, but sometimes he’ll do something or say something that completely throws your perfectly regulated emotions into overdrive. He’ll laugh at a stupid joke you make, or he’ll grab your hand to make a point or he’ll tell you that you’re pretty, and your heart swells until it presses painfully against your ribs, hot and slippery and aching. Those days, you mostly go home just to lie on the floor, listen to the only playlist of yours that Vernon hasn’t seen.

The second thing you notice about the playlist Vernon made you is the cover. It’s you, you know it immediately, and you know exactly which day it was taken. You just didn’t know it was taken. But your best friend��must’ve snapped a photo when you weren’t looking, because the cover is you, looking up at the cherry blossom tree that the two of you stumbled on during a late-night walk. It was maybe a little under a year ago, it was the night you realised you loved him, and it was the night you almost kissed.

You don’t know if he remembers it the same way you do. To you, that’s your biggest what if? moment. To him, it’s probably just another fun memory with his friend. His best friend, if you’re lucky.

It takes you a second, but you finally click play on the playlist — but the picture stares back at you, practically taunting you with the memory.

The two of you had been walking for twenty minutes, sharing airpods, until you’d seen the tree and gathered a pile of pink petals to dump over Vernon’s head; he’d realised what you were doing just a moment too late. Asshole, he’d said smilingly, brushing the petals off with two hands. Everything that happened next was cliché. He’d missed a spot, one pale petal still clinging to his hair; you reached your hand up to get it, and lingered a little too long, a little too close. You don’t think you’ve ever held eye contact for so long — it felt like forever and then some.

Until his eyes flicked downward. Only for a split second: if you’d blinked, you would’ve missed it, but you saw it, and it was enough to have you taking a step back. Not like this, you’d thought to yourself. You wouldn’t do anything like that. You wouldn’t throw years of friendship and an extended period of pining away so easily — you wouldn’t risk it over an impulse that Vernon was experiencing. If you couldn’t have all of him, you refused to even take one night. You’d rather not know than live with the memory.

You’re halfway through the second song when you finally snap out of the memory, and you can actually take a moment to glance at the rest of the playlist. To your surprise, it’s short — it’s only six songs — and more interestingly, you know all these songs. And Vernon knows you know them; some of them you recommended to him, some of them he’s sent to you already, and you’re still wondering what he’s thinking as the third song ends. 

Despite you claiming to be his best friend, you don’t always understand Vernon. Sometimes it’s little things, like how he fist bumps the cat on the street corner of his apartment. Sometimes it’s bigger, like the girl he dated last year. You didn’t understand that — or maybe you didn’t want to, because yes, you were well on your way to being in love with him, but he also didn’t tell you. You found out from Seungkwan (who was kind of triumphant about it, because he was always vying for the position of Vernon’s best friend, and he finally knew something you didn’t).

Mina was lovely. As if Vernon would date someone not lovely — he brought her to movie night after a month or so of them seeing each other, and she met your group of friends, and everyone loved her. Even you. And honestly, after excusing yourself to the bathroom to blink away your watery eyes, you convinced yourself that it was for the better: that this would be how you officially got over your best friend. So when Soonyoung asked you to go on a blind date with one of his friends the next week, you said yes. You and Wonwoo saw each other for about a month before you broke it off, and about a month after that, Vernon showed up at movie night without his girlfriend, and casually mentioned that they’d broken up.

Even the news of that didn’t do much to soothe you, because you’d quickly come to a conclusion while dating Wonwoo: that it would not be easy to get over your best friend. You knew you loved him now. You’d come to that realisation under the cherry blossom tree, a few months after both of your breakups, a year after you realised that you liked him like that in the first place. It’s been well over two years since you first fell for him, and you’ve been stuck there ever since — falling deeper and deeper because you refuse to pull yourself out.

Sometimes, on your most hopeful nights, you think that maybe Vernon could feel something too. Some nights he looks at you with a certain shine in his eyes, or when he hugs you he makes it last a little longer than usual. Some nights he opens his mouth to say something and the words get stuck in his throat, and he waves it off like nothing happened. Symptoms that are all too familiar.

Those nights are even worse, the ones where you go home and read too much into his every move, try in vain to stifle the hope that insists on clawing its way to your chest. Those nights are getting more and more frequent, and you don’t know how much longer you can handle it. Those nights, something in you is convinced he feels something, that maybe he could like you — on the very worst, you think he might even love you. But by the next morning, you’re dead certain that all you’ll ever be is a friend to him.

But now — today — you’re eight minutes away from home and nearly five songs in when it starts snowing, and at the same time, the cogs in your mind slowly start turning. You love these songs, Vernon knows you love these songs. You’re pretty sure they’re some of his favourites too; he’s always listening to them. And you’re so preoccupied with the realisation that’s sinking in, that same traitorous hope you’ve always shoved down stirring again in your chest, you barely even notice the snowflakes settling around you.

Because maybe you don’t always understand Vernon, but most of the time you do, even if it takes a little while — even if he has to spell things out for you, like his stupid cake playlist. Because that’s what he’s doing, you realise with a sudden jolt, looking at your favourite songs. Your favourite love songs. He’s spelling it out for you. That this is his love language; that he wants you; that he thinks about you; and as the last song finishes, just as you turn onto your street — if you love me, won’t you say something?

When you finally look up, you think you’re hallucinating. Because Vernon’s standing in front of your apartment building, holding an umbrella, and it startles you so much you actually stop in your tracks a few metres from him, blinking idiotically.

Vernon gives you a shy smile, charming and awkward. Your heart does the thing it always does when he looks at you like that; stutters, skips a beat, clenches tightly.

“You stopped replying to my texts,” he says, and the street’s empty enough that you can hear him, even from where you’re standing. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

You don’t say anything because what can you even say? Where do you even start? You don’t have words — but you tap quickly at your phone with a sudden idea, and you hear the ping of Vernon’s phone from where you’re standing. You move closer anyway, smiling at the familiar furrow of his brow as he glances between you and the phone he digs out of his pocket. And you see the exact moment he registers what you’ve sent him, the smile that spreads across his face.

[2:39am] you https://open.spotify.com/track/5oO3drDxtziYU2H1X23ZIp [love on the brain - rihanna]

You and Vernon first met at a party. Seungkwan had promised both of you, separately, that it wasn’t a party, more of a small gathering between his friends, but of course, Seungkwan’s definition of small doesn’t match yours. And so you were kind of hiding in a corner, nodding your head and mouthing subconsciously to Rihanna’s Love on the Brain; you’d turned your head a few inches, and Chwe Vernon was standing a few metres away, doing the exact same thing. You guys had accidentally made eye contact and split into matching embarrassed smiles, until he’d sat next to you. He’d offered you possibly the most awkward fist bump ever, pairing it with an even more awkward, “So, uh, got love on the brain?” You’d laughed, and that was it — the beginning of you and Vernon.

Now, he pockets his phone again, but holds the umbrella out over both of your heads, which only makes you giggle. “You brought an umbrella?”

“It’s snowing,” he shrugs, but his smile is wide, “It’s just like… colder rain.” 

“Stupid.” What’s more stupid is the smile you can’t peel off your face. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“Why didn’t you?” he counters, and you tilt your head with a sheepish smile. So many reasons, but one look at him and you forget them all.

“So,” he murmurs, slipping his free hand around your waist, “got love on the brain, hm?”

“Something like that,” you agree, and after three years of wanting and waiting, you finally kiss him.

a/n i linked the playlist vernon made at the top (yes i dug up one of my very old spotify accounts to do this). i have very mixed feelings about this one. it's kind of cheesy but so is most of my work, and anyway it's valentine's day!! so who cares!!! also once again this got a banner bc once again this picture inspired the whole thing. also wtf is up with tumblr ruining image quality!!!

perm taglist: @n4mj00nvq @eoieopda @som1ig @wondering-out-loud

@tokitosun @hannyoontify @sahazzy @dokyeomin

@icyminghao @smilehui @nicholasluvbot @lvlystars

@immabecreepin @hanniehaee @kokoiinuts @astrozuya

@yepimthatonequirkyteenager @qaramu @weird-bookworm @phenomenalgirl9

@lightnjng @strnsvt @onlyyjeonghan @athanasiasakura

@iamawkwardandshy @twilghtkoo @yuuyeonie @lllucere

@pearlesscentt

@sourkimchi @porridgesblog

[xxsunoosprincess]

hi, can i reqs enha reaction to waking up with their back all scratched up after a long night with their s/o?

back to my regularly scheduled content 😋 absolutely delicious request

Enhypen’s reaction to seeing the marks you left on their back. (OT6)

pairings: enhypen legal line x reader

warnings, 18+, minors DNI, mentions of sex, handjobs, and marking

Heeseung

Shy baby…. doesn’t tell you because he doesn’t want you to feel bad (and also secretly wants you to do it again). When you wake up he is fully dressed and sitting in bed, back facing away from you which is weird. He’s never awake this early and is he watching you sleep?? Can’t pry what’s wrong out of him so you end up wrestling him down and flipping up his shirt, exposing the marks (and making his cock throb). Repeated tells you it’s not a big deal but walks around with his shirt tucked in like a dork just in case anyone else tries to pull a fast one on him.

Jay

Loves that shit. Type of boyfie that sends you $200 to get your nails done all pretty. Taking care of you is his top priority!! Plus, he loves the way a nice manicure looks when you have your hands wrapped around his cock. He can also feel the scratch marks you leave down his back that much better with a nice set of acrylics. When he catches sight of them in the morning, you will have another “investment” sitting in your bank account immediately.

Jake

Shakes you awake after he takes a shower and the body wash packs an extra sting. Once he has you up and sufficiently panicked… “It’s important, wake up!!” Is not the most delicate way to wake up your partner… he pulls off his shirt and flips over to show you the damage. Thinks he has a rash at first, but it doesn’t take much to deduce what the red lines running down his back are from. Once you tell him, he switches to “Look what you did to me! You wild animal!” all whiny and rosey cheeked. Makes you kiss it better.

Sunghoon

Likes it and makes sure everyone knows about it. “Oh these? Y/n was over last night” cue groans from the other members. After that they stop asking but he makes sure they are visible. Will probably even ask you to do it again and leave marks along his shirt line so they “accidentally” show. And when you do, he makes sure to reward you with an extra nice pounding that night <3

Sunoo

Sweet blushing baby!! He sees it in the mirror while doing his morning skincare and shrieks. It obviously attracts the attention of everyone in the dorm, but he runs back to his room with his shirt clutched to his chest and back pressed against the wall. He finally slips into the room and sees you sitting up in bed, clearly just awoken by the chaos happening behind the door. Jeers of “damn Sunoo I didn’t know you were a freak like that!” from Jake as he turns around to show you what all the commotion was about sends you into your own fit of laughter.

Jungwon

The first time it happened he didn’t even notice. Goes about his day until he is at dance practice and is getting sweaty so he takes his shirt off. Sunoo’s scandalized gasp is all he heard before a shirt is thrown at his face with a hissed “are you crazy? what if the managers see?”. Oops. Not so secretly happy about it. Now he walks around the dorms shirtless after a romp with you in the sheets just so he can show off a bit.

END.

a/n: short lil thang to get back into the swing of things after everything that went down today. Good lord… thinking about getting two requests out tonight to make up for deleting last nights :( also reminder that requests are open for 100 follower event!! anyways, hope you enjoy! xx - princess

taglist: @sunoofairyofsass @cha0thicpisces (fill out form or dm to be added)

[moonstruckme]

hey ! by all means ignore or delete this if you're not comfortable with it, but could i request remus x fem reader where the reader has been SAd in the past and is mostly doing okay, but one time whilst kissing with remus she gets nervous ?? and remus is just sweet and comforting and trying to show reader they can trust him

again feel free to ignore because i know it could be a bit triggering but it's also nice to imagine a healing journey where you are safe with another person after all that :)

Thank you for requesting angel, hope you like it <3

cw: allusion to past SA, reader gets triggered, some semi-awkward but very loving conversation around that

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 988 words

You love Remus’ apartment. You love how quiet it is, how it always smells like books and fresh laundry and how there’s always at least one mug on the coffee table with the tea bag still sitting in it. You love the window by his kitchen table, and how he’ll sit with you there on rainy mornings and watch the people going by with their coats and umbrellas, and you love that he’s added another hook on the wall by the door, just next to his, for you to hang your key on when you come by. You love his wood floors, and the water pressure in his shower, and the sofa he got secondhand that’s more plush than any you’ve ever sat on. 

Remus’ miracle sofa is so comfortable it doesn’t even cause a twinge in your back when he leans you back against the armrest, throw pillow fallen to the floor, and kisses you so that you curve your neck forward to meet him. It’s soft enough to dip accommodatingly for the hand Remus slides underneath your lower back, pulling you up into him as he presses you down. Its velvety cover feels cozy and familiar beneath your fingers splayed across the cushion to steady yourself. 

All things considered, you’re too comfortable to account for the feeling that starts up in your chest. It could be Remus’ hand pressing surely into your back, or his tongue skimming across the inside of your lip, or merely the sound of your panting breaths, quick and overlapping in the quiet apartment. All you know is that it feels tight, and it doesn’t go away, inching upward until your heart is hammering in your throat, a blockage for any air you try to take in. 

Remus can tell something is wrong. He pauses just before you push him off, taking his hand from your back and pulling your mouth from his with an unsteady breath. Maybe it’s only you that’s really panting. 

“Alright?” Remus asks, soft but tense. He doesn’t know what he’s done wrong. “Is everything okay?” 

“Yeah, I just—” You take a long inhale. It’s shallow and unsatisfying, but you feel better. “Sorry.” 

“That’s okay. Do you want me to move?” 

He starts to sit back, but you keep hold of his wrist. You don’t want him away from you. 

“No,” you say. “Sorry, it’s not you. I just started to freak out a little, I don’t know why. Sorry.” 

“Sweetheart.” Remus’ voice gentles. He knows about your history. It’s something you talked about early on, once you knew you could trust him but before you did anything more than hold hands. He’s always been exceedingly understanding about it. “You don’t need to be sorry. You’re fine. What can I do?” 

You take another breath. “I don’t think you need to do anything. I feel better now.” 

Remus nods. He looks cautious. “Was it something I did?” 

“I don’t know.” You fight the urge to apologize again, but you hope it shows in your expression. “I don’t think so.” 

“Okay, that’s alright.” Remus takes the hand that’s holding his wrist. He smooths his thumb across your palm, and you realize he’s not touching you anywhere else to avoid upsetting you. Your throat tightens. “Do you want to stop for now?” 

You shake your head. “I want to keep going.” 

“Are you sure? We could do something else.” 

“I’m sure,” you say. Grasp the sides of his sweater, pulling him closer. “I want to keep kissing you.” 

“Okay.” Remus’ lips quirk, and he grows a bit bolder, sliding his hand up the length of your arm to cup your cheek. “What would make you comfortable, lovely?” 

“I am comfortable with you,” you tell him earnestly. 

“I’m glad,” he says. “And I believe you, but that doesn’t mean that I’m okay with making you feel…with making you nervous like that. Even if it’s just for a second, yeah?” He strokes his thumb over your cheek. Heat flares in its path. “I have an idea.” 

You sit up a bit, eager. “What is it?” 

“What if, instead of me touching you, you put my hands where you want them? I’ll just leave them wherever you like, and if you start to get nervous again we’ll take a break.” His eyes flicker up to yours, cautious. “How does that sound?” 

“That sounds…” You chew your lip, stopping when Remus’ gaze drops to the motion. “That’s really sweet, Remus, but we can’t do that forever. It’s not fair to you.” 

He laughs. “Sweetheart, it’s more than fair to me. I get to kiss you. I get to be in the same room with you.” You grin bashfully at that, and his thumb dimples into your cheek, a fond pressure. “We could do it like that forever if you wanted, but we could also just take it one step at a time. Yeah? We’ll figure it out eventually, but this might be somewhere to start.” 

You nod, slowly. “Okay. That makes sense. Um…” You pick up his free hand tentatively, growing more confident when Remus squeezes your fingers. You place it on your side. His long fingers splay over your ribcage, kind and reassuring. “And this one,” you touch the wrist of the hand on your face, “you can leave here.” 

Remus’ smile reminds you of a sunrise, the way it blooms slowly, bringing color to his face and warmth to the room. “Yeah? Just like that?” 

“Yeah,” you echo. “That’s good, please.” 

“Oh, sweetheart, there’s no need to say please.” He dips down, pecking teasingly at your lower lip. “You know I’m happy if you’re happy. Let me know if you change your mind, alright?” 

“Mhm.” It’s all the response you can manage, your mind already lost to the feel of his lips on yours. 

“Mhm.” There’s laughter somewhere in Remus’ tone. He kisses you impossibly softer. “Just keep me in the loop.” 

[spxllcxstxr]

Jayce and Viktor Dating Someone with ADHD • Headcanon

(Gif not mine)

Request: Hiiii how are you? I love your stories so I was wondering if you could write more jayvik x reader but who has adhd? TYSMM -- anon and Your Jayvik + reader headcanons have me are giddy and are healing my soul. Is it possible to ask for a some headcanons with a reader who has ADHD and also forgets to eat because of it?? I hope your day is kind to you! -- anon

Warnings: gn!reader, reader has ADHD, mentions of food and eating/not eating, these are lowkey kinda short im so sorry lol

A.N: Disclaimer: I don't have ADHD but I have many friends that do and while ADHD presents itself differently for people, I tried to keep this a bit generalized, I hope that's ok!! If anything needs changing or needs to be deleted for being inaccurate or anything, just let me know! Hope you guys enjoy!!

•

Jayce and Viktor are both very understanding people, so when you told them you had ADHD they didn’t have a problem with it. They are, however, problem solvers (they are inventors with the dream of making Piltover and Zaun better for the people), meaning they are very curious about your habits and how they can help. They don’t want to “cure” you, because there’s nothing to cure, but they want to understand how to reassure you and how to make living with ADHD easier on a day-to-day basis

If you’re someone who fidgets with things a lot, Jayce will happily pick up the task of making something that satisfies your need to occupy your hands and your thoughts. He loves being in the forge and he’ll gladly let you sit in there with him and listen to you describe what you would want. He’ll sit next to you, sketching out the design while you ramble about what textures are better than others or how weighty it should feel in your hand. Jayce honestly loves this little side project; not only does it let him work on something other than his research, but it also puts a smile on your face

If you like rambling for hours about your latest hyperfixation, Viktor is the best for that. He has a naturally curious mind and would love to learn something new. He especially likes it when your head is resting on his chest in the middle of the night. Viktor likes watching you move your hands as you talk excitably about the plant life in Ionia or the history of the Yordles. He doesn’t just listen—he’ll ask you questions or give you reading material he thinks you may like as well

Going to Council parties or even just walking through Piltover can really overwhelm you sometimes, either with all the noise or the texture of your clothing feeling off, so your partners are very attentive to your wellbeing. The three of you set up a codeword for anyone to use when someone needs or wants to leave. They try to make it something funny every time to hopefully ease the panic a little bit. Usually Jayce and Viktor are glued to either side of you hip, but in the off chance they have to roam around the room, the two of them will try to keep an eye on you. They will always reassure you that it's ok that they are leaving these sorts of events early (Viktor barely wants to go in the first place), and when you get home the three of you will do something to calm everyone down and get into comfortable clothes

Having ADHD, you tend to get distracted/forget to do certain things. This usually includes eating. Your partners never want to seem overbearing or like they're smothering you, so they will try to subtly remind you to eat/do certain things. Jayce likes writing you little notes and putting them in the apartment. Usually they have little hearts in the corners with some encouraging remark after "remember to eat!" Viktor will usually try to eat with you, so you won't feel alone while eating. He'll be making something and he'll set the table for either two or three and that just reminds you to actually sit down and eat what Viktor makes

Your partners are very patient and are always open to new ideas. if you want them to do something different or if something works really well, they would love to hear it. They absolutely will not be mad at all, they love you so much and all they want to do is help make things easier for you

•

[caitified]

hey im not sure if this is similar to the previous requests u've gotten, but

reader and CC were teammates in iowa (privately dating with fans and media speculating about them) then the draft happened—different teams—CC's PR team advised her to be in a PR relationship with u know who—and uh, reader did not take it well. they started drifting apart and the internet had a few reasons why—some thought they were together and broke up, some thought they were beefing due to being on different teams, or u can add ur own ideas ;)

angst but with a happy ending!

behind the scenes

caitlin clark x reader

warnings:none/notes: i’m back!

it was always quiet between you and caitlin.

not silence—but something softer. something intimate. you’d be in the back row of the team bus, headphones tangled, your shoulder leaned into hers, and nothing needed to be said. you’d lie side by side on the floor of your shared apartment, the glow of film study still flickering on the tv, your fingers brushing somewhere between the couch cushions. it wasn’t official, but it was everything.

at iowa, you learned the rhythm of her. how she liked her coffee. the way her voice dipped when she was tired. the little smirk she gave before she pulled up from the logo, already knowing it was going in.

and she knew you too. every tell. every scar. every story.

nobody said it out loud, but people knew.

fans clipped moments from post-game hugs and tunnel glances like they were watching a romance film in slow motion. “are they…?” the tiktoks whispered. “idk but they give something.”

you never confirmed anything. you didn’t have to. there were just glances that lingered too long, cheeks flushed after every win, hands always finding each other when no one was looking.

you didn’t know it at the time, but that was the golden part. the part you’d ache for later.

then came the draft.

you sat beside her in the green room, fingers laced under the table, hidden from the cameras. she looked over at you when her name was called, and you kissed her cheek before she stood up. it was supposed to be everything. a beginning.

but they sent you to two different cities.

two different teams.

two different lives.

you thought you could handle it. you were strong. you were used to early mornings, late flights, long practices. what was a little distance compared to everything you’d already been through together?

but the truth was: the distance wasn’t just miles. it was what happened after.

it started with a phone call.

she sounded off. distracted. like she was trying to read a script someone else had written.

“they’re asking me to… do this thing,” she said.

you could hear the tension in her jaw through the phone.

“what thing?” you asked, already knowing you weren’t going to like the answer.

“a fake relationship. just for PR. nothing serious. it’s just—”

you already knew the name before she said it.

connor.

“they think it’ll help… neutralize the rumors. you know. keep the focus on basketball.”

you didn’t say anything at first. just sat there on the hotel room bed, staring at the little blinking light on the minibar fridge.

“you don’t have to do this,” you said eventually, voice quiet. “you know that, right?”

“i know,” she said. but she didn’t sound like she believed it.

and then the pictures started coming.

her at brunch with him.

her sitting courtside at his game.

her in a hoodie you’d left at her apartment.

the internet lost its mind.

suddenly, it was caitlin clark and connor mccaffrey trending every week.

suddenly, it was like you’d never existed.

your teammates stopped asking how she was.

you stopped wearing the necklace she got you.

you deleted the shared notes app you kept for late-night thoughts and grocery lists and half-written love letters.

and still—your chest cracked open every time her name came up in post-game interviews.

because even when you tried not to care, you did.

you cared so much it burned.

there were theories, of course.

fans speculated for weeks.

some thought you two had been secretly dating and broke up.

some thought you hated each other now—just two stars, too competitive, too jealous to coexist.

some clung to hope, dissecting every subtle interaction like it held the answer to everything.

and the worst part?

you missed her.

you missed the way she used to say your name. you missed the jokes no one else got. you missed waking up to “good luck today, kill it” texts and falling asleep to grainy facetime calls where neither of you said much, just listened to the sound of the other breathing.

you missed her.

then came the game.

your teams faced off midseason.

sold out arena. tv cameras. screaming fans.

everyone was watching.

and so was she.

you felt her eyes on you during warmups. you looked over—just once—and she gave you this tiny smile like she wanted to say everything she couldn’t.

you didn’t smile back.

you couldn’t.

the game was brutal. elbows. fouls. trash talk. you guarded her like you didn’t still dream about her hand in yours. she scored on you once and muttered something under her breath that almost sounded like an apology.

after the game, you didn’t even hug.

you walked past her like she was just another player in your way.

twitter lit up.

“wait… what was THAT?”

“no handshake???”

“they definitely have beef.”

“or they were in love. idk. either way i’m invested.”

you avoided the clips.

she didn’t.

she watched the replay a dozen times that night, alone in her apartment, a bottle of gatorade sweating beside her on the counter. you stared at the ceiling in your hotel room, wondering how it all got so far away.

you told yourself it was over.

but then the offseason came.

and one night, after a charity game in iowa city, you saw her again.

she was standing near the exit, hat low on her forehead, hands buried in her pockets like she didn’t know what to do with them.

you didn’t mean to walk toward her. your body just went.

“hey,” she said.

you just looked at her.

she looked older. not in a bad way. just tired. like she’d been pretending for too long.

“i broke it off,” she said.

you blinked.

“the PR thing,” she added. “i told them i couldn’t do it anymore. i couldn’t keep—”

she swallowed hard. “—i couldn’t keep pretending i wasn’t in love with someone else.”

your heart twisted.

“caitlin,” you said, and it came out like a breath.

“i know i messed up,” she said. “i let them talk me into something that made me lose you. i thought i could protect us by hiding. but i just made it worse.”

you looked at her for a long time.

at the freckles you used to count when she fell asleep in your lap.

at the girl who used to be yours.

you didn’t answer right away.

you just stepped closer. slowly.

and when you spoke again, your voice was soft.

“you didn’t lose me,” you said.

“you just have to fight for me this time.”

and she nodded.

not like she was promising anything.

not like it would all be fixed with a kiss.

but like she knew.

like she finally understood what it meant to love out loud.

you didn’t take her hand that night.

you didn’t need to.

somewhere in the silence between you, something shifted.

maybe this time, you’d make it work.

not in secret.

not with maybes.

but with hands held tightly and names spoken fully and hearts unhidden.

maybe this time, it wouldn’t be out of bounds.

im back!! will update my wattpad book soon, keep the requests coming.

[jyoongim]

Feel absolutely free to delete this if it makes you uncomfortable but I would like to request human Alastor and a reader with an age gap between them.

Like I mean the reader is of course the age to concent but I like to imagine Alastor (who is canonically in his late thirties/early forties before he died) enjoying hearing reader calling him ‘daddy’ and begging him to put a baby in her.

Again feel free to reject

THINK I NEED SOMEONE OOOLLDDDEEEERRR DUNDUNDUN

Themes: age gap, Alastor is in late 30s, fem!reader, reader is in early 20s, term ‘daddy’ used sexual, slight breeding kink, baby fever, ovulation

Part 2

‘Aint he a bit…old?’

’oh honey the man is practically your father’

’You’re far too young to want to settle with that fossil’

’how do you expect him to raise children?’

’what he couldn’t find a woman his own age? Robbing the cradle ain’t he?’

Sometimes you’re a little wary of letting people meet your husband. Especially when he was 15 years older than you, a mere 23 year old.

Yes Alastor was a bit older than you, but you didn’t mind. 

You rather enjoyed having someone who has experienced the world a little and would happily provide for you.

The gossip about the two of you always gnawed at your nerves, but you didn’t care, not when he treated you like a princess. 

 Alastor gave you any and everything you needed and wanted, so to hell with the whispers.

As of late, you have been having baby fever. You swore your insides tingle when you are engaged with a child. Your ovaries screaming to have a little bundle of your own to care for.

It didn’t help you’re ovulating…and your husband was looking like he would make the best father for your kids.

The two of you were out in town shopping, when you spotted the cutest baby set. You tugged his arm, to gain his attention to the display in the window. “Darlin what is it?” He asked as you excitedly squealed. You turned to him, lips pouty and giving him your best puppy eyes as you pointed to the display “oh can we get it? Pleeeaaassseee baby. C’mon wont you buy it for me?” You wrapped your arms around his neck, hands dancing lightly along his neck as you pressed your lips to the corner of his.

You knew how to work him that’s for sure.

Alastor hummed tilting his head as he mulled it over. He could never tell you ‘no’, even if it was ridiculous. He ran a thumb over your bottom lip, cock twitching in his trousers as you playfully bit it. “You are a little minx you know that?” He sighed, letting you drag him into the store.

“But why do you want baby clothes dear?” he genuinely asked, looking at the displays on a wall as you wrapped your arms around his waist. 

You nipped at his ear, tugging the soft flesh cooing into his ear, voice soft and innocent “Because we're gonna need it when I have your baby. Wont you like that? To put a baby in me? Your baby. I think you’ll make a great Daddy. Dont you think daddy?” You purred making the tall man quickly pay for the clothes and drag you out the store, making you giggle.

——————————————————————————————————

"fuuuck, d-don't stop. Ah!" you moan as his cock rams into your pussy, feeling the stretch. His cock is going deep inside of your body, hitting the spongy nerve over and over, making you gush more around his already slicer-covered cock. Alastor’s fingers find your puffy, throbbing clit and he rubs it n tune with speed of his thrusts. Your eyes roll deep inside of your skull as you let out high pitched moans and whines. For once, Alastor is loud, groaning and cursing at the tightness of your pussy.  It’ll never not amaze him that no matter how many times he fucks you, you're always so tight, like you were made just for him.

"gonna cum inside f-fuck baby I’m gonna fill you up so much" he grunts you, kissing your shoulder as he angled his thrusts so he hits your sweet spot. you whine, you're so close, you arched your back to take the impact of his thrust deep into you.

"Oh fuck oo-Oh fuck ah ah ah Ha!f-fuck Al! I-im cumming! Oh god! Yes!" you cry out, toes curling as you push your ass back onto his cock. You mewled as clear liquid squirted out of you and made a mess of the bed. That alone with your cunt fluttering had his cock twitch and his release soon approaches.

"you want my babies? Huh? You gonna let me fuck a baby in you darlin?" he asks you, eyes fixated on his cock disappearing into the creamy mess that was your cunt. You babbled nonsense as your body tries to recover from your orgasm and twitching from overstimulation.

Alastor tugged your hair back, redirecting your attention as his cock slotted into you over and over. “You gotta use you words baby. C’mon what do you want from Daddy?” He grinned feeling your cunt clench.

You sobbed as you felt a finger in your ass, another orgasm raking through you “c-cum. I want your cum inside me. Please! Daddy please put a baby in me! i want to have your babies just please”

Alastor hummed as you cummed again, he laughed "Cant believe I made you cum without my tongue first. But don’t worry, ill give you that too, after I fuck my cum in your pussy. We want it to take don’t we? Yeeeaaa we do. C’mon baby take it take my cum, let me fuck a baby into you.” 

A harsh thrust had you see white and he slammed his lips on yours as his hips shuddered against your ass, cock twitching as he emptied his balls into you.

He sighed as he curled you into his chest, cock still buried inside you. He kissed your sweaty forehead, smiling  “You’ll make such a beautiful momma baby. I can’t wait to have several little ones running about” 

You tilted your head slightly “you want more than one?”

Alastor’s smile deepened “Oh you didn’t think I would stop at just one did you?”

Your cunt fluttered, making him laugh “seems we agree perfectly”

[jarofstyles]

Bad Idea, Right?

Obviously inspired by Miss Olivia Rodrigo’s song, here is a one shot I loved writing :) a bit of angst, a bit of a fluff, a lot of smut, a little bit of everything!

Check out our Patreon for early access and 160+ exclusive writings!

WC- 6.2k

Warnings- toxic relationship, kinda asshole h, angst, crying, slight degradation, spitting, impact play (light), sex tape filming, daddy kink (light), use of Mama 🤭

—-

Y/N knew this was a very bad idea. She knew she was going to regret this in the morning, as she usually did when Harry texted her to show up somewhere, but here she was. 

Her best black dress in the most soft fabric, the one he had complimented her on endlessly before peeling it off when they had still been together, was glued to her body, Hair curled and falling down her shoulders. If she was going to show up at a houseparty that her ex boyfriend was throwing, she may as well go all out and wear something that she knew he liked. 

Internally, she tried to talk herself out of it as she approached the open door, ignoring the people making out on his lawn. The thump of the bass was audible outside, a deep sigh being let out as she tossed her phone in her clutch after texting him a simple ‘here.’ The shot she had taken before had done next to nothing to calm her nerves, her red lipstick meticulously touched up in the back of the uber as she squirmed in the seat surely getting fucked up as she bit down on her bottom lip, venturing into the home that used to be so familiar to her. 

It had been 5 months since they’d broken up, but it had barely seemed like it. Harry had a way of getting into her head and driving her absolutely fucking mad. Their back and forth seemed neverending, their text threads updating every few days. A fight, a makeup, a request to see one another. As much as she wanted to claim it was all him, she knew she was equally as bad. It wasn’t like she hadn’t tried to find someone else- but no one else could get her off like him.

Harry knew her body better than anyone else, every curve and mark, where to touch and stroke. Where to stroke, where to lick, where to bite. He was an expert on how to get her off in just minutes, her cunt completely dedicated to him as much as she wished it wasn’t. Her brain and pussy had no communication in the information regarding the fact they were broken up, much to her dismay. The only thing saving her ego was that she knew that she had the same effect on Harry. There was no way she didn’t. Harry could very well fuck anyone he wanted to, more than capable to pull. Y/N had been overly jealous as a girlfriend and she knew that, but people were drawn to her boyfriend despite the fact it was well known he was taken. While he didn’t seem to take them up on it- he ate up the attention and preened over it, much to her irritation. It caused fights upon fights, her going out of her way to make him jealous- which worked. They both seemed to get off on pissing each other off. 

Breaking up was supposed to stop the cycle, but it seemed to only string it out further.

There had been so many times she deleted his number but when he pulled up on her notifications again, she recognized the number and his attitude and couldn’t resist temptation. No one had ever made Y/N feel so many emotions in her life. Being around Harry was like a live wire, electric and hot, dangerous and potentially harmful, but the benefits sometimes outweighed the risks. 

Her nose crinkled as she felt the floor stick under her shoe, knowing he would be pissed about that tomorrow. Whatever spiked punch was all over the floor and that would take some elbow grease to get out. Navigating through the entryway, she made her way into the living room. It was dark, flimsy lighting had been put up to make colorful strobes go around the room, the room far too filled for comfort. It was stupidly warm, regret crawling up her neck as she looked around to find anyone familiar. 

“There she is!” The voice was unmistakable. Niall, arms tugging her in for a hug and pulling her into the kitchen where it was a bit quieter, the main group she was familiar with strung about along with a few strangers. “Harry’s girl is here, everyone! Y/N herself.” He chirped, making her give him a confused look until she followed his gaze to see Harry standing stiffly, a girl too close for comfort. Her eyes narrowed, taking in how the girl angled her body, hand resting on Harry’s arm, looking at her with a scowl. 

It was an ugly feeling to see someone else around her man. Well- he wasn’t her man, but it was another miscommunication between her heart and brain. She hated seeing him around someone else, the mere idea of him being with someone that wasn’t her made her stomach turn. It wasn’t right. Yes, she knew it was a toxic cycle but it was one she didn’t know how to break. She knew this was bad, but she didn’t want anyone else having him the way she did. 

The only saving grace was the fact that Harry looked uncomfortable, immediately peeling himself away from the other girl and coming straight over to Y/N.. Her face must have shown her irritation, mouth opening and arm resting on her hip as she went to give him a bit of hell but was cut off by his mouth. 

And Y/N’s body, she was a fucking traitor. Feeling his arms wrap around her and push her against the counter, his tongue pressing into her mouth and tasting the cinnamon from the alcohol and sticky remnants of Coca Cola on his lips made her brain go numb. She always did love how strong he was, how safe she used to feel wrapped up in his arms. There were a few wolf whistles surrounding them, but Y/N had been taken aback from the heat of it so early on, hand slipping between her and the counter to grab at her ass. A surprised moan left her mouth before Niall let out a laugh. 

“Alright, alright. Stop eating her, Harry.” Niall smacked his back, making Harry pull back with a hazy smirk. Almost dopy, making her blink up at him with her eyes narrowing again. His eyes were dark, lips wet now and that dark pink she liked so, so much. He hadn’t shaved today, leaving a bit of stubble around his face, a backwards hat combing his hair back to keep it out of his face. The nose piercing was swapped from a stud to a hoop, making her a bit surprised. Had he done that for her? He knew she liked it….

“You can take your hand off my ass now.” Her sassy tone didn’t match how her eyes looked, secretly loving that he had so publicly claimed her in front of a girl they both knew wanted him. It was a sick feeling, the victory even though she knew it was wrong to feel that way. It was a constant fight with herself. Knowing she should most definitely not be feeling so happy that her ex had just kissed her dumb in front of all his friends, but still liking that she had a claim on him. 

“I could.” He retorted. “But it feels so nice in my palm, and we both know how much you like it.” A squeeze was given, Y/N scowling back up at him but not making any attempt to move. If she wanted to, he would get out of the way- but they both knew how this went. She pretended she didn’t liked his hands on her, he taunted her, they would glare and play fight before it got a little real, and they’d fuck. A circle they’d swung around plenty of times. His lips lowered to her ear, ignoring the chatter around them. “You’re wearing my dress, hm?” 

“Yours? M’sorry, did you want to wear it?” She rose her eyebrow that she definitely hadn’t laid to perfection before she came here. “I forgot you even liked this one. It was the first thing I could reach in my closet.” Her nose was turned up, this time pushing past him to go over to the drinks. She looked down to see a cup with his name scribbled on it with a sharpie, lifting it up for confirmation before throwing it back.

Regretted immediately.

“Ugh- Harry, what the fuck?” She gagged, nose wrinkled as she opened his fridge to grab a bottle of water. “I forgot how disgusting your drinks are. God, how do you even have a stomach?” She gave him a horrified look, swishing the water in her mouth.’

“No one told you to fuckin’ take mine!” He grumbled, taking the cup to find it empty. “Fucks sake, Y/N. Taking my drink and then bitching about it. As usual.” He came up behind her to grab the bottle over the fridge, his ‘good stuff’ or whatever. It was already that time of night? 

Where they started poking at each other to cause a fight. To have an excuse to wander off and to strip down to nothing. 

“Excuse me?” Y/N grit her teeth, turning to look at him as he poured into his recently emptied cup. He was trying to get a rise out of her. 

“You heard me, princess. Know those ears work, considering you’re an eavesdropper.” 

Oh, he was going low. She crinkled the water bottle in her hands, shoulders tending as she exhaled sharply through her nose. “Well I wouldn’t have had to if you didn’t get so fucking weird with your phone. You were the one hiding a ‘project partner’ from me.” Her fingers did air quotes around that, showing that she didn’t believe his excuse. 

“Oh, for fucks sake.” Harry hissed, his own jaw setting. “I told you that she was just a partner for my paper. I didn’t tell you at first because I know you’d overreact and go all insane on me for daring to interact with another woman.” He snarled back, knowing where to hit where it hurt. 

“I wouldn’t have had to be paranoid if you’d respected me to stop flirting and entertaining girls who disrespected our relationship by hitting on you in front of me! You literally encouraged it!” She was trying to keep her voice down, but it was hard. This was an especially sore spot. 

“So replying with a thank you is encouraging it? Sue me for liking that someone complimented me on something!” He raised an arm up, running fingers through his hair in frustration before he turned away to lean on the counter with his arms crossed, cup in hand. “God, you do this every fucking time. We aren’t fucking together anymore, that’s your fault. Why do you continue to harrass me about this? Even if I did encourage it, I never went for it did I?” A cruel smirk emerged. “Though I’m a free agent now, yeah? Could go take Josslyn or Heather up on their offers?

Harry knew he had taken it a bit too far when her breathing caught for real, watching as he froze and her bottom lip trembled. That wasn’t a part of their regular script to wind each other up before hot sex. It was a bit of the real hurt that has blossomed through, but he hadn’t meant to let it out. Her eyes turned glassy, her hand snatching his drink and throwing it at his shirt. 

“Fuck you.” 

Harry felt the cold liquid hit him, hissing as he stood in slight shock as he watched her turn to leave. He had really fucked up. His stomach dropped as he tried to gather his bearings, cursing under his breath before going after her. 

“Y/N! Fuck, don’t go.” He yelled after her, making his way through the throngs of people in his living room, eyes watching her back go towards the door. While he had definitely said fucked up things before, this had been designed to hit where it really hurt. 

Y/N stomped through the living room, ignoring his calls for her as she got closer to the door- closer to escape- when she was caught. Arms wrapping around her waist as he pulled her into the bathroom next to the stairs and turning so he was against the door. Y/N kept her back towards him but yanked herself free from his grip, irritated that she was crying. That it still hurts. He knew it would and that’s partially what made it worse. He had been out to hurt her and she had known it was a bad idea to show up tonight but somewhere in her heart she had this tiny, tiny hidden hope that maybe tonight would be a night they could finally get over their differences. She missed him so much it ached if she allowed herself to feel it, but she had tried to refuse her feelings. 

It had boiled over now, though.

Harry swallowed thickly as he heard the sniffle. Y/N wasn’t one to cry about a lot. She hadn’t shed a lot of tears in the time they’d been together, emotionally iron clad as it seemed. When she did? It was unnerving. Heartbreaking. It was one of his least favorite things ever, seeing her crumble. While he may have enjoyed getting her angry and irritated, maybe a little jealous, he never liked hurting her. He gained no pleasure from that. 

“Baby…” He spoke softly, trying to turn her around, hands pulling at her shoulders. He was bigger than her and could definitely turn her around if he wanted to, but he wouldn’t ever touch her in a way she didn’t want. 

“No. You can’t- you can’t call me that anymore. I am not your baby.” She hissed, keeping herself turned from him. Harry winced. She hadn’t said that before, not seriously, but the venom in her voice had shown how upset she was. It was laced with the hoarse blanket that coated her voice when she cried, making it even worse. “You can go call Josslyn or Heather. I’m sure they’d love to be your b-baby.” The end of the sentence was joined with a little sob, effectively breaking his heart further. 

“No. No, I’m not… I didn’t mean it, Y/N. I promise. I was just upset and I didn’t mean for it to come out, I just wanted you to feel-”

“What?” Whipping around, Y/N’s mascara streaked cheeks were a blow to the chest. Her vulnerability was something he used to crave, to be the one she confided in or let herself break with. He wanted to be there for her. Not be the cause of her tears. “You wanted me to feel hurt, like you did? Do you not think I don’t hurt every fucking day?” 

“You broke up with me!” Harry tried, her glare making him stop talking quickly after. 

“I broke up with you because you didn’t take me seriously. How could you go from telling me you can’t wait to put a ring on my finger, can’t wait to have a family with me, to flirting with girls the same night? Do you know how humiliating it is to have your friends tell you that they heard so and so say they were going to try something because it ‘obviously isn’t serious with Y/N?” The incredulous look on her face made him shrink back a bit. 

“I didn’t know that! It was never real flirting, Y/N. I liked to get my ego stroked, the attention felt nice, but I would never, ever step out on you. I love you, for fucks sake!” He went to reach for her but she backed up, flinching slightly. Another dagger to the chest. He had really, really fucked up. She never denied his touch.

“You love me?” A humorless laugh escaped her swollen lips. “Is that how you love people, Harry? Make them feel disposable and humiliated because you can’t be happy with one girl telling you that she loves you back? My compliments weren’t enough?” Arms crossed defensively over her chest. “Give me a fucking break. Telling me that as if you didn’t just say moments ago that you should take up girls who actively disrespected our relationship on their offers to fuck you while you were dating me? Yeah, that’s definitely something someone who loved me would do.” She wanted to stay angry but she was hurt. Hurt so bad, the full weight of their breakup actually hitting her as she felt the sob crawl up her throat and hurried to cover her eyes as she began to cry. It couldn’t be held back. She was at her breaking point.

Harry wanted to throw up. He hadn’t thought of it that way, and honestly? He had never expected this. Sometimes Y/N had acted as if she didn’t have a lot of emotion, reserved and a bit quiet when she expressed herself. The one time he had gotten her to let go was during sex, where he truly felt her desire. That was maybe why he liked the attention from other people. She wasn’t very forthcoming with praise or overly lovey with him, and it had hurt a little. But he could deal with that later, because his poor fucking girl was sobbing in front of him.

“No, no… sweet girl. Please.” He watched as she dropped down to sit on the floor, gathering her knees to her chest as he followed after her. “Hey- M’so sorry. I didn’t think about it like that. I really didn’t. I was just talking out of my ass because I was hurt we’re still broken up a-and I shouldn’t have said anything but….” He sat down fully next to her, pulling her body on to his lap. She tried to squirm at first but he could tell it was half hearted as she settled down a moment later, the sobs wracking her body as his arms wrapped around her and his lips went to her ear. 

“M’so sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t ever want to make you feel that way. You’ve always been so important to me and this is breaking my heart.” He whispered. “Hate that you’re crying because of me. I hate that I ever made you doubt that you were important to me, or that I respect you. I do. I promise you, I do.” He whimpered slightly, desperate to get her to believe him. “I’m an ass, I know. But you have to know I do, I love you so much. I’m so fucking sorry for throwing that in your face.” 

In the grand scheme of things, he knew that some people would think she was overreacting- but he understood now. He hadn’t truly meant to take it that far, hadn’t even stopped to think that those exact women had been sources of insecurity. They were the first to pop into his head because he had rejected them again tonight, waiting for Y/N to arrive. 

He never wanted to be broken up with. He had planned on being with her forever, and he had fucked it up. 

Her cries started to fade, sniffles taking the place of sobs as he whispered soft words, consoling her. He knew he’d fucked up tonight, in their relationship. He hadn’t communicated the way he needed to and he played games, but he thought that it would get a different reaction. His intentions weren’t to hurt her. Selfishly, stupidly, he assumed it hadn’t phased her. That she was just angry and not upset. 

If she’d give him another chance he’d fix it. He’d make sure to open her up a little more, make her feel more safe. Reign in his flirting, make sure he was just polite instead. He’d never put their relationship in jeopardy again. “C’mon. Come with me, to my room.” Standing up, he pulled her along with her. It said a lot about her right now that she wasn’t fighting, letting him lead her to his room with her hand tucked in his own. Her face was downcast, making sure no one could see that she’d cried as Harry took the key from his pocket and undid the lock. He really didn’t want strangers in his room.

It was still the same. His navy bedspread and Nirvana posters on the side of his wall, his desk slightly messy with a leftover fast food cup sitting next to his water bottle on his night stand. He’s gotten it for her, because she got thirsty in the middle of the night. 

What really got her attention was the framed photo of them that was right next to it. Her soft smile and his wide one, teeth out as he held her in his lap. His flannel was around her and his hat was backwards as he snuggled her. It had been cool that night but there was a bonfire, not enough seats and a handsy Harry ready to make his lap her throne. Her throat tightened as she looked at the photo, dropping his hand and wrapping her arms around her body to self soothe before she walked up to it. 

“Why do you still have this up?” Her voice was shaky still, looking down at the happy memory. 

“Because I still love you. I told you.” Hands were placed on her hips as she was brought into him, hugging her from behind as he unwrapped her arms and threaded their fingers together. “I know I’ve been shit. I’ve been… impatient, an attention whore, all of the insults you’ve said. But I love you. I have since day one. I’d have never cheated on you, regardless of what you may believe.” The idea of it made him feel ill. 

“Then why?” Her wavering voice made him frown. “Why did you keep flirting with people in my face? I know you said it was cause I wasn’t giving you enough compliments but I didn’t know you thought that.” His heart nearly snapped in two when her voice broke. “I thought the world of you. I was so proud to be with you and then… I thought you just didn’t like me anymore. I know…” A deep inhale was felt as her tummy lifted both of their arms. “I know I can be a little cold or quiet, but I had no idea you felt neglected. I pulled back because you kept talking to other girls how you used to talk to me and… I didn’t feel like it was okay to.”

It made him feel worse. Hearing this now. Y/N had broken up with him and he’d been hurt, his pride making him sneer at her and the nastiness was even more uncalled for now that he knew. Y/N wasn’t a bitch, she wasn’t unfeeling- she didn’t feel safe. He’d done that to her because he was the little bitch here, not giving her the safety she needed in order to open up. While they should’ve been continuing growing, he got his feelings hurt and made it impossible for her to feel like she could give those things to him. 

“I’m sorry.” His voice was weak. “I’m sorry. I’ll keep saying it. I didn’t mean it. I promise, nothing I've said is true. I wanted to wind you up, I wanted to fuck you because it was the only way you’d get close to me again. I never intended on making you feel unsafe with me, fuck. That’s the last thing I ever wanted. Makes me feel sick to hear that.” He nuzzled against her neck, placing a kiss there before pulling away, unwrapping them and sitting on the edge of his bed. Y/N wasn’t fighting him, so he gently tugged her to sit on his lap, this time facing him. “There she is.” A sad smile lifted his lips, thumb wiping away the streaks of mascara that had flaked off with her tears. “Still so pretty when you cry, even if it breaks m’heart.” 

It was worse than a kicked puppy. Y/N wasn’t a huge emoter so knowing that he’d done this had made him wonder what she did alone. How many other times he’d made her cry but she wasn’t solid enough around him to do it in front of him. 

“You broke mine.” She whispered, looking down at his shirt. “I don’t mean to be a bitch. I was just scared.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Let me fix it. Please?” Holding her face in his hands, he got her eyes back on his. “Let me make it better. I won’t do any of that ever again, I’ll communicate better… Just let me make your heart feel safe again.”

Y/N knew she was a sucker for this. She shouldn’t say yes. Every part of her except her brain was screaming to stay, though. While her head was telling her to run away as fast as she could, her heart thudded in her chest and her body wanted closer to his own. It was a decision she may come to regret, maybe she’d hate herself for it, but she couldn’t let go. “O-Okay.” She whispered, feeling his head fall against hers. “Please don’t break my heart again, H. I can’t do that again.” 

“I’d rather die.” 

His lips were pressed against hers, and moved quickly from there. 

One of the things that never lacked with them as a couple was sexual chemsitry. It’s what had them so obsessed with each other at first. The best way to get Y/N to express herself was when she was full of cock or close to the edge of orgasm, which was why Harry had no problem saying his apologies between her legs. 

“M’sorry, baby.” He crooned, licking over her drippy slit. “So, so sorry. M’gonna take care of you.” Lips pressed kisses to her clit, a keening whine leaving her lips as fingers clutched his hair and brought him closer to her. His mouth had always been his greatest gift and biggest curse. Somehow he knew all the right things to say, all the right things to do to pleasure her but always stuck his goddamn foot in his mouth. He was going to change that now. 

Dark green gazed into hers as he took another broad lick, the tip of his nose brushing over her clit. Large hands with chipped polish wrapped around her thighs and kept them spread, his hair a mess from her hands carding through it with their hot makeout and now his time spent working on her pussy. This was undoubtable a perk of being with the man, knowing how much he genuinely loved to eat pussy. He’d spend hours licking and sucking on her, making her sensitive and cum over and over again whenever he had the chance. For his birthday he’d genuinely wanted a day inside with her where he spent the majority of his morning eating her for breakfast, her thighs his perfect earmuffs from the snow that happened to fall on the day. 

Whenever they spent time apart he missed this desperately. He’d not even tried to find someone to replace this because he knew the feeling wouldn’t ever be the same. Sure, he’d loved eating pussy before Y/N but it had turned into a full on obsession with her. No one had ever tasted as good, made as many cute noises, squealed when his mouth latched on her clit and his finger curled just right- like he was doing now, holding her bucking hips down. 

“Oh, I know, Mama, I know.” He cooed against her. “Feels so fucking good, doesn’t it? Needed my mouth on this greedy fucking pussy…” Pursing his lips, he spit over her slit and watched it drip with a hiss before usng his tongue to spread it, digits dripping down to his wrist before his tongue trilled over the swollen bud. It didn’t take much to push her over, but a well timed smack against her thigh to get her to stop squirming had done the job. A wet gasp tore from her mouth as she squeale his name, simultaneously pulling his mouth against her and trying to push him away. Using his strength against her, he made sure to lick up a bit before spitting again, leaving her pussy wet and messy as he climbed up her body and kissed her hard. 

His chin was wet and she knew he was a fucking mess but her tongue delved into his mouth, tasting herself on him. She could hear the tug down of his zipper, felt him moving and wiggling his pants down but she was too busy sucking on his tongue and reveling in his moans against her to think twice before she felt the tip of his cock smack against her cunt. 

“I’m clean, baby. No one but you, never need anyone but you.” His grip on her chin was tight as he rutted himself against her cunt. “Even when you were being a miserable bitch t’me, all I wanted to do was love on you. M’gonna make sure you never fucking doubt how much you own me again. This is the only cunt I need.” 

There was sick satisfaction that rolled through him as he slid into her and felt the stretch, watching her mouth fall open as she was filled. It only confirmed what he had hoped- she hadn’t been fucking around much, if at all. Granted, he was thick and long and it would be hard to beat him, but he knew what she felt like when she was well fucked. “Oh, look at that…” He whispered, angling her head down to look at where her pussy lips clung to his cock as he pulled out a bit. “She missed me, didn’t she, baby? Sweet pussy missed my cock so fucking much, doesn’t want me to pull away.” 

Harry was by far the filthiest man she’d ever experienced but that’s part of the appeal. He may be a bit of an asshole, but god, he knew how to fuck. How to kiss. How to make her feel special when he wasn’t being a dickhead. Moments like this always wiped that shit clean, the slate cleared and her head foggy as all she could focus on was how right he was. “Yeah- yeah, don’t take it from me again.” She growled, digging her nails into his skin. “Don’t fucking take my cock from me again, don’t make me walk away. This is mine.” 

Harry hissed, loving the sting on his skin and how she spoke. Y/N could be a fierce little bitch and he loved that about her. She hadn’t been pleased tonight and he’d taken it too far, but she was going to have no doubt how much he had been missing her. Their hate sex had been good, but their makeup sex was even better. “Never, Mama. Never, it’s all yours. You’re right.” His voice soothed, pushing back into her and reveling in how hot she was. Tight. Everything he could possibly need. “It’s yours always, and I don’t want anyone else. Jus’ want you to let me love on you, make you feel good. Be my girl again. He had everything else he wanted, but Y/N was the missing link. He’d fucked up with her, but he wouldn’t do it again. Not when this was how explosive it was between them. 

“You better fucking treat me right.” Her hand held his face now. “Better be so nice to me, buy me f-flowers and hold my hand… Fuck me good, make sure all the other b-bitches know that you’re taken.” Her legs wound around him and he felt a heel surely to bruise his ass, but he didn’t care. “Don’t let them think you’re available because you’re an attention whore.”

Harry moaned at the degrading words, because they were true. He was indeed an attention whore and he’d never deny it. “Only for you, baby. Want all your fucking attention… fuck.” He hissed, thrusting slower as he looked at where they joined. “Creaming on my cock already, really must have missed me.” Noses brushed before he fucked harder into her, trying to bring her to the edge. “Fingers didn’t cut it, did they? No toy can make you feel as good as his. Know that you needed Daddy t’fuck you right.” 

Y/N let out a wail as he tugged her hips up, his face leaving hers to sit on his knees while he fucked her. He was getting the spot she needed, saying the words she wanted and she felt hot all over. Syrupy, sticky hot as she dripped down her ass as the sound of their sex filled his room. The music muffled behind the door didn’t matter, all she wanted to hear was his dirty talk and the sound of their skin. “Yes, I needed it Daddy- Fuck me, fuck me right. You always make me cum over and over…” her head rolled back on the mattress as her fingers found his wrists, grounding herself as he fucked her steady and hard. 

His eyes took in the view of bouncing tits and a messy cock pistoning in and out of her creamy cunt, breathing heavy while he felt her tighten up on him. His goal was always to make sure she came over and over, a generous lover being one of his positive attributes. “Mhm… It’s never changed, Mama. M’gonna give it to you just like that. God, you look so fucking pretty on my dick, baby. Need to capture it.” He adjusted slightly as he took his phone out, thankful his pants had only been down a few inches as he pressed record. A breathy laugh left him as he fucked into her willing body, aiming the camera down at her face. “Say hi to the camera, pretty girl.” He crooned. 

“H-Hi Daddy.” She mewled, preening under the attention. It was a guilty pleasure of hers, knowing he had the filthy images and videos on his phone. It was even better to watch it back and see just how wrecked she got from him. “You’re gonna be nice to me so you- so you don’t have to delete these, right?” He’d had to delete all the videos when they broke up, but she hoped this time they’d get to stick around forever. 

“Of course, my sweet girl. Never gonna fuck this up again… Not when we look so fucking good together. Feel so fucking good together…. Fuck, look at that…” He got a close up of her cunt as it stretched to fit him, clinging to his length. “You’re gonna cum, I can feel it.” His eyes met hers as he started to get her to the edge, her face glistening and eyes hazy. “Go on, baby. Do it. Cum on my cock, make a fucking mess.” 

Harry could feel it as she did, the high pitched whine of his name and the bite of her nails as she writhed on his cock, the camera capturing her face as she did so. Mouth open and eyes rolled back, the blissed out smile following as he fucked her through it. He didn’t stop, tossing the phone to the side as he kissed her again as his cock pulsed, trying to hold back his own orgasm. “Mmm… fuck. I love when you cum on me. So gorgeous, all mine.” He rubbed their noses together again while humping into her, her impossibly hot cunt clinging to him as he peppered kisses to her face. “But I’m not done with you yet.” 

“No?” She grinned, feeling drunk. “Should have known, you sex maniac- fuck.” She pushed his hand away from her cunt. “Give a girl a minute, fucks sake.” 

“Just got you back, can you blame me?” He smiled against her mouth, sucking her lower lip into his mouth and grazing it with his teeth. He wanted her to look freshly fucked and glowing tomorrow when she had to meet up with her friends for brunch, sure to piss them off with the news that they’re back together. “Mean it, I’m not letting you go this time. Never again.” His smirk got bigger. “Pussy’s too fucking good.” 

“Shut up, slut.” She pushed his face away playfully. You’ve got more than one orgasm to go until I think about taking you back. Prove your worth to me.” His cock could be felt twitching inside her yet again. 

“Whatever you say, Mama.” He cooed, pulling out of her regretfully. “Now, get on your knees. I’ve got to say sorry to your pretty ass.”

[dark-fics-4-you]

Heyyy saw ur request were open what about dark!rafe catches you talking shit about him to your friends over text???

How a Girlfriend is Supposed to Act

Warnings: noncon, forced sex, domestic violence, choking, slapping, oral (m!recieving), toxic relationship, gaslighting

Despite being with Rafe for almost a year, you had learned all of the quirks that he had when it came to his possessiveness very early on.

The first time you caught him reading your texts, you were surprised by just how nonchalant he was about the entire situation.

He was sitting on your bed after you returned from grabbing the two of you a snack, scrolling through your phone, not even bothering to look up at you until you asked him what he was doing.

“You’re my girlfriend, Y/N.” He said it slowly, like he was reminding you of something you yourself couldn’t possibly forgot. The accusing fire in his gaze made you squirm. “Of course I have the right to look through your phone.”

At first you were too surprised to react. You had never really had a reason to look through Rafe’s phone, but you imagined he wouldn’t be too happy if you did.

“Why the fuck do you look so nervous, huh?” He was starting to sound annoyed, and his eyes were flicking between meeting yours and scanning your phone. “Got something you’re trying to hide from me?”

“What? No, Rafe! I just didn’t expect to find you going through my phone, that’s all.” You explained breathlessly. You didn’t know why he was accusing you of trying to keep secrets from him.

Unfortunately, the last thing that you should have done in that moment was try to snatch your phone away from Rafe.

His hand shot out, tightly gripping your wrist as he dug his fingers into the bone beneath your skin. You cried out in pain and watched as your phone fell onto the bed, before bouncing to the floor.

Your boyfriend was furious now, easily pulling you onto the bed by your wrist and onto your back at a painful angle before straddling you. You struggled beneath him, trying hopelessly to stop him from putting his hands on you

When Rafe slapped you across the face the first time, your ears rang and you swore that your vision went white for a moment.

Every sound became muffled but you could hear Rafe angrily chastising you from above, “dumb bitch. I mean, I pay for your fucking phone, so yeah, you’re not gonna talk back to me when I go through it.”

That was months ago, and you later learned that that wasn’t even the first time that Rafe had gone through your phone.

You weren’t cheating on Rafe, that much was 100% true. The problem was that Rafe’s definition of cheating included behaviors that you knew were not cheating.

Texting your classmate a question about homework turned into a two hour long fight that culminated in Rafe giving you a black eye.

After Rafe saw you had and Topper had sent each other a couple funny posts in instagram dm’s, he choked you so hard you passed out, leaving you to cover up the extensive bruising on your neck around your friends and family to avoid explaining what had happened.

Ever since then you had learned to be careful about who you texted, and if you ever texted anyone Rafe wouldn’t approve or said something that he wouldn’t like, you made sure to delete the conversations.

You were always so diligent in covering your tracks.

Except for the one time you really needed to.

After another argument with Rafe had become physical, once you finally got some space away from him you had texted a friend, vaguely venting your frustrations with him, without revealing too many details to make her suspicious that Rafe was hurting you.

As you shakily typed out the texts you couldn’t help but think back on the fight you had had. After catching a guy staring at you in the club, the moment you returned home, Rafe had been quick to grab you by the throat, pushing you up against the wall before hurling insults at you.

“I mean you dress like such a fucking slut, no wonder I have to chase these guys off. I bet you wanted his attention, didn’t you?” His eyes narrowed as he looked down at you with disgust.

You were so shocked by his outburst you had barely registered the fingers crushed your throat, and you finally gasped for air against his strong hand. “N-no, Rafe!”

His grip tightened as he regarded your fearful eyes, “nah, you always think you can fool me sweetheart but you never can.” His chuckled, but there was no hint of humor in his eyes, “I saw you looking at him when we first walked in.”

You shook your head against him, tears gathering in your eyes as you begged with him, “I wasn’t baby-”

“Shut the fuck up, Y/N.” He spat at you, squeezing so hard you were sure you would have deep purple bruises on your neck tomorrow.

“I never should have let you outta the house wearing that dress. You were looking for trouble walking around like that.” Rafe growled, his eyes were ice cold. You knew that he was itching for a fight, and you didn’t want to give him what he wanted.

“I’m sorry,” you struggled to force the words out with such little breath and Rafe finally gave you a respite when he loosened his grip on your throat. “You okayed it before we went out, I thought it wouldn’t be a problem.”

“I knew every guy at that bar would be trying to fuck you with their eyes, but I didn’t think you’d be doing the same to them!” The more he spoke, the more pissed off he seemed to be making himself. You knew that he was just convincing himself that his actions were justified.

When he tossed you to the floor, you yelped in pain when your shoulder hit the hard wood. You barely had time to reach for your tender neck before Rafe grabbed a fistful of your hair and forced you to look up at him.

“I mean, do you even love me anymore, Y/N?” His voice sounded hurt, and even though this wasn’t the first time he had used this card on you in the middle of putting his hands on you, you couldn’t deny the tug on your heartstrings you had when you looked into your boyfriend’s eyes.

“Of course I do, Rafe!” You insisted, knowing that your enthusiasm was expected and there would be consequences if you didn’t play along.

You were terrified of your boyfriend, and after being with him for so long, you were aware of the ways to deescalate a tense situation. In moments like these you would have said anything to protect yourself.

“Nah, you don’t mean that. You haven’t been yourself lately baby. Always too busy with work to spend time with me and now you’re talking back to me?” He shook his head, tsk-ing as he glared at you disgustedly. “Not to mention, you haven’t been fulfilling all of your duties as my girlfriend.”

You stared at him, puzzled and not understanding his meaning, “what are you talking about?”

“What are you talking about?” He repeated back to you in a mocking tone, like he couldn’t believe how dumb you were to not get it. “I mean, it’s been, what, five days since you last let me have sex with you? I have needs, Y/N. And when you can’t just lay on your back and spread your legs for me, you’re being a bad girlfriend.”

His words stung, and you couldn’t tell if the tears in your eyes were because of the large hand tangled into your hair, or because your boyfriend was acting like you owed him sex, like you were in the wrong right now.

“Now you’re gonna make it up to me, because you are really pissing me off right now, and I don’t want to hear any fucking complaints, do you understand?”

Your body was screaming in resistance, but you numbly realized that you were nodding your head. Rafe’s hand left your hair, finding your chin and gripping your jaw hard.

“Use your words, sweetheart,” the sick grin that was spread across his lips told you exactly how much Rafe was getting off on your humiliation right now and you wanted to be sick.

“I understand.” You forced the words past your gritted teeth, swallowing down the bile that threatened to come up.

Rafe unbuttoned his pants before sliding the zipper down and pushing them down his legs before pulling off his boxers as well.

His dick was hard, a bead of precum already pearled at the tip of his intimidating length.

You swallowed nervously, already afraid of how rough your boyfriend was going to be. You felt like you weren’t ready at all, but the sharp pain the bloomed on your cheek after Rafe slapped you told you that you must have hesitated for too long.

“Quit your damn procrastinating, Y/N,” he hissed, tangling his fingers into your hair again and pulling you to his dick, forcing the tip past your plump lips.

You didn’t have any time to be surprised, gagging and choking on him as he pushed himself deeper towards your throat. He groaned at the feeling of your throat squeezing his cock, urging himself further into the back of your mouth.

Rafe was in heaven, basking in the sight of your teary eyes and the ruined mascara that now trailed down your cheeks. You had looked so pretty at the club tonight, but now you were a crying mess. The noises of your gagging and the steady sound of Rafe’s cock hitting the back of your throat filled the space. Nothing had ever made Rafe hornier than seeing your beautiful, tear filled eyes begging and pleading with his.

He reached out to your cheek, wiping up a bit of saliva that had been forced past your lips. Your glassy eyes were unfocused now that you had given up any thoughts of resistance, too cock drunk to try protesting against the stronger man.

You were doing all you could not to gag on him and choke, knowing full well that that would only spur him on. Every time you pushed at his thigh to get him to ease up, he would slap your hand away with an annoyed grunt.

His pace was relentless now, one hand was gripping your hair and the other was at your throat, holding you still so he could push himself deeper.

“That’s right baby, fuck,” he bit back his groans, ignoring your gagging and desperate eyes when he forced himself too far down your throat, literally choking you with his cock. “Oh fuck- god Y/N, you’re better than any sex doll, you know why?”

He knew you couldn’t answer him, especially since he had started thrusting faster past your messy lips, but he still paused to drink in the sight before him.

“Because they can’t fight back,” Rafe sneered, picking up his pace again, reaching a punishing fervor.

The blond’s dick was slamming into the back of your throat while the large hand at your throat squeezed in warning anytime you so much tried to pull back.

He sped up on final time, chasing his high by forcing you to take all of his cock. Rafe held you in place and watched you choke on him for a couple seconds before letting out a low groan and spilling his salty seed down your throat, giving you no choice but to swallow every drop of it.

When he pulled his dick out of your mouth, you took a gasping breath, but weren’t allowed much air before Rafe slapped you across the face hard.

“From now on, I expect this and more from you every night we’re together. Because that’s how my girlfriend is supposed to act. And if you think about giving me any lip about that, then I’m gonna make you wish you had just kept your pretty mouth shut, got it?”

That rest of the night was no better than the beginning, after Rafe had helped you clean up, he basically immediately led you to your bed.

He chuckled in satisfaction when you didn’t fight back against his wandering hands, and as held tight to your wrists, plunging his cock into your slick cunt, he didn’t say anything about the tears rolling down your cheeks.

The next morning you had woken up sore, your entire body ached, and you weren’t surprised when you looked in the mirror and saw the red and purple blooming around your throat.

Rafe was still asleep, his deep snores letting you know that he wouldn’t be waking up soon.

You quietly snuck into the bathroom, grabbing your phone off of the bedside table on the way. Once you had shut and locked the door behind you, you exhaled deeply, unlocking your phone to check for messages.

Your friend had texted you asking how your night had gone, and feeling perhaps a little too honest, you told her that the two of you had had an “argument.”

‘he thought i was checking out a guy at the bar and said some really rude things to me last night.’ You laughed to yourself as you stared at your own words through blurry eyes. It was both funny and sad to you how used to covering for Rafe you now were.

The bathroom felt more cramped when you remembered that Rafe was just on the other side of the door, despite being asleep.

A new notification popped up soundlessly and you read your friend’s text. She was joking about gathering all of your mutual friends to gang up on Rafe.

If only she knew the extent of what Rafe had done to you. You were sure she wouldn’t be joking then. In spite of that, you were angry with Rafe and wanted to blow off a little steam with your friend.

Which is why you felt emboldened to continue texting her.

‘he’s such an asshole sometimes. i’ve been thinking about breaking it off with him soon.’

You huffed, putting your phone down before finishing up in the bathroom and opening the door.

To your surprise, Rafe was standing on the other side, waiting for you to get out before he brushed past you without a word.

You noticed he was taking longer than he usually did to just pee, and when he finally stepped out of the bathroom, you realized with a horrible chill why he had been in there for so long.

Clutched in his hand was your cellphone, and you could see that it was open to the messages you had just sent.

“‘He’s such an asshole, I’ve been thinking about breaking it off??’” His voice was cold and you cringed hearing him speak your words. There was no denying he had read your texts.

You shivered, frozen in place as he stared you down, his blue eyes boring so deep into you that you swore you could feel them burning straight through you.

Your mouth was so dry, you had never felt so afraid of your boyfriend before. Even after everything he had put you through, you had never said anything about breaking up with him to his face. “Rafe, I-”

If your instincts hadn’t kicked in, you would have taken the blow right to your nose, however you had been lucky enough to dodge the phone fast enough that it only nicked your forehead before smashing into pieces against the wall behind you.

Unfortunately, while you had been focused on dodging your phone, the taller man had closed the gap between you, easily pushing you up against the wall by your throat and choking you with both hands. Rafe’s fingers pressed down against the bruises that they had left there the previous night.

You wanted to scream, but Rafe had knocked the wind out of you and no matter how hard you shoved him, he wasn’t giving up.

“You’re mine,” he hissed as you struggled against him. “Maybe I’ve been hitting you too much recently, because I don’t remember you being this stupid when we first started dating.”

Before you could comprehend what was happening, Rafe had spun you around and pushed you face first into the bed. One of his hands was forcing your head against the mattress, while the other pawed at your silk pajama shorts, opting to rip away the fabric covering you before freeing his hard cock from his boxers.

“You think I’m an asshole?” He growled, the tip of his cock brushed against your slick cunt and you shuddered at the feel of him beginning to force himself inside of you.

“I’ll show you how much of an asshole I can be.”

[iniziare]

Download: Adobe Photoshop 2025 (v26.5) / Windows

I come bearing the gift of piracy as an early Easter present! Welcome to the most recent (at the time of writing) version of Adobe Photoshop, which was released on March 27th of 2025. As per usual, have a peek at the note below, as it's there to help avoid the most common issue.

Authenticity popup? In case you get a message that says Photoshop needs to be licensed, or it will uninstall itself otherwise, please have a look at this fix! (Always uninstall previous Photoshop installations prior to installing a new one)

Step 1: Download the file from my Google Drive, or Mega.nz Step 2: When done downloading, unzip it (Windows can do it for you, but I personally use a program called 7ZIP) anywhere on your PC, even your desktop works fine, and yes, you can delete it when you're done with all of these steps. Step 3: Go into the unzipped folder, click 'Setup', and Photoshop's usual installation window will pop up. Install it as per your preferences (if you aren’t too tech-savvy, don’t worry, you can leave the default installation options as they are and all will be fine). Step 4: Hit 'Launch', and well— enjoy your copy of Photoshop! (Step 5: I would absolutely love you if you could spare a reblog of this post, which is not even for my own sake, but for anyone else who might be looking to obtain a copy of Photoshop!)

If in the unlikely event that you do run into any sort of issue of any kind, my DMs and askbox are always here for you, so don’t be shy, I promise I’ll welcome you with chocolate and fruit.

While I don’t request for anything in return outside of a like if this helped you (or ideally, a reblog so that others can find this), I was asked in the past whether I had a Ko-fi, so I set one up back in the day. It’s not required at all, but it’s always appreciated. 🤍

[marvelstoriesepic]

If You Asked Me Now

Pairing: Photographer!Bucky x Wedding Planner!Reader

Summary: Years after separating for college, you reunite with Bucky while coincidentally working the same wedding.

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: emotional yearning; unresolved feelings; separation and reconnection after time apart

Author’s Note: This did make me a little sad and it’s kind of bittersweet. It was such a lovely request, my dear! Thank you so much! I hope you enjoy what I did with it ♡

2k Drabble Challenge Masterlist | Masterlist

You haven’t seen him in years.

Years of quiet. Of near-misses and almost-texts. Of birthdays remembered but never acknowledged. Of photos in your camera roll you never deleted. The ache of what-if constricting your chest during long nights spent planning other people’s happy endings.

You arrived early at the venue. It’s a private estate nestled against the shoreline of a serene lake. It’s beautiful in the kind of way that makes you breathe deeper. Light filters through the canopy like it’s blessing your skin, and you set down your clipboard, your bag, your weight.

You were made for this. Checklists. Contingency plans. Love stories that bloom under your careful curation.

But nothing in your planner, your script, your color-coded schedule has prepared you for the moment you turn around and see him.

Bucky Barnes.

Yes, it has been years since you saw him, but the sight of him still floods your chest like an old song you thought you'd forgotten, all the lyrics rushing back in the shape of his shoulders.

He is older. Broader. The kind of handsome that takes your breath in one hand and never gives it back. He’s wearing black, of course. Camera slung over one shoulder, coffee in one hand.

Your name is still caught in his mouth. He hasn’t said it yet.

Neither of you prepared for this kind of reunion.

You stare at each other from opposite ends of the sunlit ballroom. Floor-to-ceiling windows. Cream curtains. Gold accents. Love dripping off the walls as if it’s something that can be bottled and sold.

You were just here to meet the photographer.

You didn’t know the photographer would have blue eyes and a constellation of freckles you used to trace with your thumb. You didn’t know the photographer would be him.

You don’t move.

Neither does he.

The silence wants to say everything.

Then he smiles.

God. It’s not fair.

“Y/n,” he says. Just that. Soft, stunned.

And you’re trying to remember how to breathe around it. Around him. Around all the versions of him you’ve stored away in boxes you swore you’d never open again.

“Hey,” you say. It cracks on the way out, as though your voice wasn’t ready to time travel.

He walks toward you slowly, as if he might look at an illusion. And your feet stay planted, but your heart is already halfway across the room, tumbling back through years of memories that never got the closure they deserved.

“You’re the planner?” he asks, stopping just short of touching distance. His voice is warmer now. Familiar. It scrapes against the softest part of you.

You nod. It’s a little slow. Disbelieving. “And I assume you’re the photographer.”

You were seventeen the last time he looked at you like this.

As if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the right shape for it.

Back then, it was rooftop talks and shared playlists. Passing notes between classes. His jacket draped over your shoulders when the gym got too cold.

And then came college. Different states. Different lives. The slow collapse of something you thought might survive anything.

You tried to move on.

You even believed that you had.

But now he’s here.

And everything you’ve buried rises as if it’s been waiting for air.

A beat.

A laugh.

Of course. Of course, the universe would do this.

Bucky runs a hand through his hair. It’s shorter than it was in high school, but it still curls a little at the ends when it rains. You remember that. You remember too much.

“God, you look great,” he notes, voice quiet, reminiscent.

You take a breath long enough to gather the pieces of you that almost shattered on the spot. “You do too,” you state, voice quiet as well. And he laughs again. Softer. Sadder.

You’re supposed to be here to talk centerpieces and lighting, to walk the venue, and decide where the bride and groom should take their first look photos.

Instead, you’re here suppressing all the words you wanted to say many years ago.

Instead, you’re here looking at him like you used to - like maybe, if you just held eye contact long enough, he’d kiss you again and this time he wouldn’t stop.

But this isn’t about you and him. This is about someone else’s love story.

Still, he looks at you as though maybe it could be.

“I didn’t know you were a photographer,” you state, your voice too light, too casual, as though it’s not balancing on the edge of something steep.

“I didn’t know you were a wedding planner.”

Touché.

He grins. God, that smile. The same crooked thing he used to flash at you during chemistry class when he didn’t understand the homework.

“Guess we both ended up in the business of love,” he says with that smile on his face.

You laugh. And hate how much it sounds like home.

He exhales profoundly, sweeping his eyes over your form and not even being subtle about it.

“I thought I might never see you again,” he says, and the words punch your ribcage. “I didn’t even know you were back in the city.”

“I wasn’t for a while,” you answer, trying to keep your tone casual. “But I guess weddings pull people back.” You laugh a little, though it’s rather breathless.

His grin is going to kill you. You remember it melting behind cafeteria tables and prom night lights.

“You always loved weddings,” he says softly.

You shrug, but there is heat running along your spine. “They’re honest, I guess.”

His eyes fall down to your hands. Again, not at all subtle. “Are you..?” His voice is rough. It seems he doesn’t want to say it out loud.

“No,” you answer quickly. “Just me. Just work. You?”

He shakes his head. There is relief in his stance. In his shoulders. In his voice. In his eyes. “Nah. Don’t really have the time.”

And then the silence comes back. Not heavy but waiting.

You move toward the nearest table, brushing your fingers along the edge of the centerpiece, needing to touch something, needing to start working.

You hear the click of his camera powering on.

He raises it, almost instinctively, rubbing the back of his neck before looking at you. “Can I?”

You blink. “What, take a photo?”

He nods. “I just- I want to remember this. You. Right now.”

You smirk just slightly. “So you’d forget without proof?”

Bucky’s eyes widen a little, but there is amusement glinting in his eyes. “No,” he states quickly. “‘Course not, doll,” he adds, and it seems there’s more he wants to say but he holds himself back with a bashful laugh.

But your breathing stops.

Doll.

The word falls from his mouth as if it never left. As if it hadn’t been said in years. As if he’s been saying it to ghosts all this time. As if your name has always tasted like that in his mouth - sweetened, softened, spun from golden-hour sunlight and inside jokes.

It doesn’t feel like a nickname. It feels like a door. Like a memory with a heartbeat. Like a piece of you just came home.

Because he used to say it all the time. In the hallways. After school. In the backseat of his beat-up car when your knees knocked together and the radio was too loud to hear your doubts. Hey, doll, you gonna come over tonight? Doll, you wanna split this? Come here, doll, you’re shiverin’.

He used to say it as though it’s something only you get to keep, only you get to hear. As though it’s the punctuation on every sentence you didn’t know how to finish.

And now here he is - older, broader, a little more worn in the eyes - but the word leaves his lips just the same. As if no time has passed. As if yesterday was senior prom and you were still dancing around the fact that you were in love with your best friend.

You want to say something clever. You want to laugh. Tease him. Pretend the name doesn’t matter. But it matters.

Because you’re standing in the middle of someone else’s love story, watching yours try to resurrect itself with just one syllable.

He raises his camera again, and his focused gaze cracks you right open. They’re not just blue. They’re saturated with something so much more. Like time. Like regret. Like the gravity of everything you both lost. “So, can I? Please?”

He takes a step closer. You don’t move. He’s so close you can smell his cologne now - clean, familiar, like something that never stopped lingering in your hoodie pockets long after you separated for college.

You should perhaps say no.

But the way he’s looking at you is not passive. It’s not casual.

It’s not I used to love you once.

It’s I never stopped.

There’s something so naked behind his expression it almost hurts to look at. Not just nostalgia. Not just old affection brushed off and made shiny again.

It’s hope. Hope with teeth and longing with roots and a trembling determination that seems like a vow unspoken.

You stand there, still in your wedding planner blazer and sensible shoes, and you let him see you again. Through the lens. Through the silence. Through all the almosts that never turned into certainties.

The shutter clicks.

And somehow it sounds like a beginning.

****

The couple is everywhere.

Their laughter echoes through the venue like a ribbon tied to the air, fluttering in the spaces Bucky and you fill with silence. Their fingers never stop finding each other. Their glances are magnetic, drenched in the kind of affection that dares you to look away.

They’re in the garden now, tangled in rosebushes and evening light, whispering to one another, words you’ll never know but feel anyway - like music under your skin.

Bucky photographs them while you hold the bouquet just out of frame. You try to steady your hand but your fingers are trembling. Your heart won’t behave.

And Bucky’s beside you.

He smells like pine and memory and the warmest part of the past.

You catch him smiling at the soon-to-be newlyweds through his lens and feel something strange twist behind your ribs. Because he’s good at capturing love and he does it with care. As if love is art and he’s always believed in it.

And he’s looking at them the way you used to look at him.

Then he looks at you.

And the moment snaps - clean and quick like a shutter - but it leaves an imprint.

Like film exposed to light.

Like maybe you’re still visible underneath all this distance.

You turn away too fast. Pretend to fix the placement of the aisle candles. Pretend you’re not sweating under the weight of all the things left unsaid. Pretend your heart didn’t flinch when he said doll as if it belongs to you again.

You tell yourself this is just work.

That you’ll be working with him for the next six weeks.

Six weeks of tasting and timelines and floral arrangements.

Six weeks of sharing air and avoiding eyes.

Six weeks of watching someone else’s love swell and bloom while yours sits quietly in your chest, half-buried but not dead. Never dead.

You’ll have to stand in the middle of it all.

The wedding dress fittings.

The first dance rehearsals.

The vows.

The goddamn vows.

And all the while, Bucky will be there. Photographing every moment. Documenting devotion while you wonder what it would’ve felt like to have it with him.

Because how cruel is it to work inside the machinery of love? To build it for others, beautifully, meticulously, while your own version sits on the sidelines, full of maybes?

How cruel is it to be surrounded by all this promise, all this soft forever, while the only person you’ve ever really wanted to say I do to is standing three feet away, adjusting his camera strap as though it isn’t slicing into your heart?

You breathe. You swallow down the pain. You make a note in your planner.

Tomorrow: cake testing. With the couple. With Bucky.

More love. More smiles. More of him.

God, how do you survive this?

And then you look up again and Bucky is already watching you.

Not the couple.

Not the shot.

You.

As if he is wondering the same thing.

As if maybe he’s not surviving this either.

[anakinstwinklebunny]

PAIRING: teen dad!scott barringer x teen mom!reader

Author's note: this a request but my internet was playing jokes on me and it got deleted :// also the baby girl is called ava, as you wanted but I just feel in my bones that scott would affectionately call her mitsy..

FLUFF ❦

SCOTT BARRINGER’s head was half cuddled in a pillow when he felt the first in this hour poke. It was a soft little jab against his exposed cheek, then another, before tiny fingers became more insistent to catch his attention..at 2am. His sleep was already threading through thin ice, causing Scott to easily wake up and let out an exhausted groan, barely managing to crack one eye open. After that, he was immediately met with a pair of wide, bright blue eyes and a messy mop of curls tousled from sleep (or rather lack of it).

“Dada!”

The enthusiasm was off the charts for such early hour

Scott blinked, trying to make sense of the chaos. His brain slow to catch up. “Missy?” he rasped, voice rough.

Beside him, you were half-sprawled over the blankets, one hand fisted in the sheets, still very much unconscious. Your cheek was smushed into the pillow, a tiny snore escaping every few breaths. You were out.

Meanwhile, the little gremlin you two had somehow created last year was squirming happily between you both, chubby hands patting Scott's everything.

He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Babe,” he mumbled, nudging you hopefully awake. “Your daughter’s insane.”

You just grumbled something that sounded suspiciously like your daughter, rolling over with a groan. Scott snorted.

“Dada!” the baby insisted again, more excited this time, little legs kicking wildly against the sheets. Tiny fist closed around the collar of his t-shirt, trying to tug at it to somehow pull him closer, if possible.

“Okay, okay,” he chuckled, sitting up. “I’m awake. Jeez.”

She beamed, gummy smile stretching wide and being all bright, eyes crinkling at the corners—just like Scott’s. His chest ached, although he won't admit it to anyone really.

Another glance at the alarm clock told him it was a quarter past two. Great. Perfect. Just perfect. But then his daughter squealed happily, smacking a tiny hand against his jaw, and Scott couldn’t even find it in himself to think of much bigger complains.

So he scooped her up, pressing a kiss to her chubby cheek. “What’s got you all excited, huh?” he whispered, voice soft and fond. “It’s way past your bedtime, missy.” she just giggled of course, grabbing at his face with both, greedy hands, babbling some kind of happy gibberish that Scott was pretty sure was a baby curse word. He grinned, shaking his head. “You are crazy..but that's okay, it's not your fault you got mommy's genes” he murmured, rubbing a thumb over the soft skin of her cheek.

You whined from your spot on the bed, burying your face deeper into the pillow. “You’re both banned from the bed,” you grumbled, words slurred and exhausted, though your voice was all fondness and sleep. "I love her, but—please. Please.”

Scott just rolled his eyes, scooping the baby higher on his hip. “C’mon, trouble,” he murmured to her, smiling. “Let’s give momma some peace.”

So that’s how he ended up on the living room floor at 2:30 a.m., surrounded by a tsunami of pastel toys and fluffy blankets, a sleepy smile tugging at his lips while the baby girl flailed around like a feral toddler. She had to make it a habit, and smacked a stuffed bunny into his face, squealing happily. Scott sighed, catching her tiny hands in his, watching how she drooled over her own smile. Thumbs run over the pudgy soft skin before he did something bold (for someone like him) and pressed kisses to her chubby fingers until she would dissolve into giggles, wiggling around in his lap. He was tired. So tired. A good amount of coffee won't fix that exhaustion. But damn, was it worth it..

And when she finally wore herself out, tiny fists rubbing rather clumsily at her eyes, head drooping against his arm, Scott melted a little. He scooped her up, tucking her beneath his chin, fingers carding through her messy, thin nest of hair. She let out a tiny sigh, cheek smushed against his skin.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to her temple. “Thought you were a big girl, huh?”

She just grumbled something that sounded suspiciously (for Scott who made it his job to analyze her baby language) like ‹dada› and nuzzled deeper into his chest, fingers burying in his shirt, making sure he still will be here when she'll wake up.

Scott smiled, eyes crinkling, thumb brushing over her back in gentle circles. “Love you, little missy,” he murmured, voice low and tender. “Love you so much..”

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