#for making them say like two words to each other

[aomiiine]

COME HOME? CUM HOME!

LIKE A ROMANCE TURNED EROTIC … husband farspace colonel!caleb & wife!reader. warning(s) -> nsfw, MDNI (18+), pure filth ahead !! established relationship, fluff for like the first 3-4 paragraphs, unprotected sex (pls wrap it up b4 action irl), impatient caleb lol, creampie, breeding, teasing, uhh daddy kink, degradation (he calls u a slut), petnames: pip-squeak(once!!!), baby, honey, princess, brat, not proofread wordcount. 1.9k (small smth for caleb’s release!! a bit rushed) taglist. @jellysix

𝑯𝑼𝑺𝑩𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑹𝑬𝑻𝑼𝑹𝑵𝑺 from service after nearly a year, caleb is more than eager to reacquaint himself with his wife’s body.

22nd January. Today. It was the day your beloved husband finally returned from service as the Farspace Colonel. You stayed up all day, all night since the day before, restless and worried of your husband’s well being. Sure, news hasn’t said much about the farspace dealings but being a Space Hunter, you heard a thing or two from work.

“Honey? I’m back— uumph!”

you raised from the couch the moment you heard keys jingling from outside your front door, reaching Caleb as soon as he opened the door to take a step inside. Your arms circled his torso beneath his arms, nearly tackling him with your jump which he caught with ease, tossing his bag to the side on the floor carelessly.

“Hello to you too, my little brat,” Caleb giggled, lifting you up from the ground in his arms with a little twirl. He buried his face into the top of your head, hair tickling his nose as he inhaled your scent deeply, taking the unique scent of yours—the scent of home.

“I missed you so much, you have no idea,” he gushed, lips against your hair with his gloved hand cradling the back of your head, tucking you deep under his chin. “Then you’re can’t imagine how much I missed you,” you mumbled against the firm plane of his chest, his uniform warm against the warm curves of your body pressed against his perfectly like puzzle pieces complementing each other. “Dramatic as always,” he chuckled warmly.

wholesome reunion, right? Caleb indulged himself in you, catching up to all the days he missed out in your life. He stayed patient, listening like a good husband all the while he kept the cruel side of him that clawed at his skin to pounce and ravage you. Caleb knew he couldn’t. Not now, at least. So bit his tongue, curled his fingers to a fist so tight, you could hear the faint strain of leather.

“Sweetheart.. so much has happened since I left. I missed out on so much, baby, don’t you think it’s time to make up for lost time?” He finally spoke his mind after the hums and replies of acknowledgement at your joyful gushing, the sight of you so happy to see him igniting a certain desire both innocent and not inside him.

you quirked a brow at him, small smile on your face along at his words. You were glad he wanted to make up for lost time, but now?

“Right now? Sure, I suppose. If you have an idea how,” you shrugged with acceptance, nodding as you shifted yourself on the couch to face him better. And in the split second your eyes met his face, you could’ve sworn you saw the edge of his lips curled to a smirk.

“Oh, I do have ideas.. So many of them.” Caleb’s hand on your waist squeezed the flesh there lightly before pulling you closer to him, other hand moving to tilt your head up with a finger beneath your chin. In that moment, your eyes blinked wildly, throat dry and lips parted invitingly for his lips to capture yours. And they did, securely so. His tongue plundered deep into the warm cavern of your mouth, slanting and sweeping his tongue over yours.

“Shouldn’t take it lightly when I say I miss you, pip-squeak,” caleb murmured once he broke the kiss, hand previously beneath your chin now holding your face, long slender fingers sliding up your jaw until they raked through your hair.

His other hand wandering your body made you gasp, cold leather fingers sneaking beneath the hem of your shirt to skim through the surface of your belly. He wasn’t shy with his exploration, making his way to cup the soft mound of your breast until it filled his palm.

“Fuck, these curves, these pretty tits that are just begging for their daddy’s touch, yeah?” Your husband seemed in awe as he reacquainted himself with your body, kneading the flesh of your breast through the confines of your bra, all until he tugged it down to spill you bare to his hand. Every tug and pinch of pebbled nipple sent jolts of desire straight to your core, your back arching into him involuntarily, much to his pleasure.

“C-Caleb, maybe we should head into the bedroom— ack!” Your efforts to reason with him was interrupted with a firm yet gentle shove on your shoulder, his larger frame hovering over yours that was laid on the couch. “Bedroom, living room, what difference does it make? We’re alone regardless,” he replied with a sly smirk, pushing your shirt up to your chin, exposing your bare midriff and tampered bra.

“Besides, your legs are welcoming me so wholeheartedly.. Is it force of habit?” Caleb taunted, free hand taking off his hat to toss to on the coffee table beside them. His other hand wrapped around the curve of your thigh, nestling himself between them as your legs locked around his waist securely.

“Must’ve fucked you so good before I left. Trained you just for this moment, didn’t I?” He drawled, free hand resting flat on your pelvis, the cold metal band on his ring fingers tracing idle circles on your skin sending goosebumps to your body. You whimpered his name, unsure exactly to ask from him all the while you squirmed beneath his touch.

“Baby, please,” you pleaded breathlessly, eyes flickering down to his hand flat on your lower belly, fingers dangerously low to your core. His hand went back up to hook a finger under the waistband of your pants, tugging down to your knees, pulling up and off your legs. All that was left was your panties, the a wet spot slowly blooming on the fabric.

“Please, what? Be more specific.. I only take clear orders, after all,” your husband chuckled lowly, leaning down closer to you, hips nestling closer to yours just enough to let you feel the bulge of his cock growing with every passing moment.

“Please what?” He repeated by your ear hotly, knowing exactly he was doing by teasing you like this.

you on the other hand, was torn between your pride and need for him. You didn’t like the thought he could see how much affected you with his absence, and return. This was surely be material for him to tease you for later on. But at the moment, you could care. You needed him to calm the raging desire in your heat, desperately.

”please.. fuck me,” you whispered, brows furrowed as you relented to his advances, eyes fixated on the sight of his hips grinding with shallow thrusts into you, the ridge of his cock straining in the confines of his pants painfully evident against the soft folds of your panty clad pussy.

The colonel smirked beside your ear, leaning away just enough to look at your face, drinking in the lust dazed expression you had on right now.

“Good girl,” he purred, grabbing each of your thighs up all of the sudden, lifting your legs up and pushing them up to your chest. He release one leg of yours to unbuckle his own belt with ease, unzipping his fly and tugging his pants down with his boxers to let his throbbing cock breath. He hissed at the cold air, stroking himself with a fist lazily before leaning down to align his tip over your clothed folds, pulling the fabric aside. A soft moan escaped your lips at the direct contact, his hips nudging forward to pierce through your slick entrance.

“So fucking tight, perfect pussy remembers me, baby..,” caleb rambled, slowly burying his girth deeper into your warm heat that welcomed the intrusion, fluttering around his shaft with each move he made. He proceeded to lift your legs up to hang over his shoulder, the narrow space between your calves allowing him a view of your sprawled on the couch, hair sprawled on the velvet cushion, features scrunched into a face of unadulterated pleasure. But nothing turned him on more than the sight of your tits bouncing back and forth in time with his thrusts, your voice raising in volume each time he got deeper in your depths—rearranging your guts with frantic jerks of his hips.

“Come on, cum for me.. Welcome me back with a biiig, wet mess, baby,” caleb coaxed, hugging your legs to his body with both arms, fucking in and out of your drenched cunt with ruthless abandon. His hips were unforgiving, drunk in the feeling of your pussy sucking and wringing him dry for he was worth. It took you all the focus and energy you could muster to keep yourself stable on the narrow surface of the couch, holding on tight to the headrest you clung onto.

“Caleb, ngh— too fast, too fast!” You slurred, your husband’s bulbous cockhead bullying the spongy spot that he knew by heart, beyond eager to make you explode on his cock. “What was— shit— that? Too slow?” Caleb teased between pants, grinning at the tight spasms of your velvety walls, a telltale sign of your impending orgasm. And he was determined to make you reach it first.

his name fell from your lips repeatedly like a mantra, nails burying into the cushion of the couch’s headrest with the fabric threatening to break—like how the coil in your belly threatened to snap. Caleb’s cock plunging into your core was reckless still, especially so now that you were on the brink of climaxing. So in a final effort, Caleb sheathed himself inside you to the hilt, settling on shallow thrusts and grinds on your clit. Much to his pleasure, the change of pace finally made you cum, your juices coming out in a spray on his cock and his pelvis, the pressure only urging him to start moving again—harder this time.

“That’s my wife, cumming all over me like a dirty slut, hm? Don’t worry, princess, I’ll be joining you aah— soo enough,” he groaned, arms binding your shivering legs tighter as he fucked into your pussy like a man deprived of any sorts of physical touch—and in a way, he way. He went on too long without you, he had to melt himself in your sopping cunt again.

“Yesyesyesyes, agh— fuck!” Caleb groaned loud, a deep guttural moan coming from his chest without his control when he felt his balls draw up tight, cock heavy and throbbing as jet after jet of semen was pumped into your womb. His hips didn’t dare to stop plummeting into your vice-like channel until he was sure that his seed would take root, that you would be swollen with his child after a month or two.

Well, he would need a good reason to stay by your side after that long, torturous, mission.

[astonmartinii]

other side of the moon - chapter five | formula one imagine

pairing: fem retired formula one driver reader x ??? fem retired formula one driver reader x platonic!kimi antonelli

one big car launch with every driver in attendance - what can go wrong?

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR | SERIES MASTERLIST

whatever bright spark decided that formula one needed one big, fancy car launch must want y/n dead. here she stood in one of the many green rooms in a black dress that’s a little too tight and an absolute pain to sit down in.

on one side of the room george sits in his dressing gown being doted on five different people while he talks down the phone in a tone too loud for the crowded room. kimi, on the other hand, sits on the couch on the other side, having waved off all of the people trying to smear yet another cream on his face.

“are you just going to be haunting me all season?” george said as he hung up the phone. glaring at y/n through the mirror.

“if i’m haunting you, does that mean you did something wrong?” y/n gasps, “am i the skeleton in your closet, georgie?”

the mercedes personnel in the green room were still, almost waiting for it to hit boiling point and all spill over. george and y/n stared each other down, waiting for someone to make the next move. george steadily looked y/n up and down, not being subtle at all. y/n raised her eyebrow at the brit.

“i could get used to you in my colours,” george said with a smirk.

“bore off russell, i don’t wear anything for you. these will be seen as kimi’s colours before you know it.”

a knock on the door signalled the start of the show. george stood up and took off his robe, revealing the new mercedes racesuit for the season. the brit made his way to the door but before he left, he turned to y/n and said, “don’t get too comfortable, i have my eye on you”

“oh georgie, you always have,” y/n flirted before schooling her face, “and how has that worked out for you?”

the brit pointed to his racesuit, “better than it has for you.”

that was a low blow, but y/n was prepared to play it that way if that was the game for the season. george looked at her again, as if to challenge her, but y/n stayed silent though her stare was unwavering. she had said a lot worse about herself to herself after the crash.

with that george turned and left, calling out to alex down the corridor.

“i really don’t understand him,” kimi said, “it was only like a week or two ago he was cussing you out in monaco, then today he checks you out but then threatens you like two seconds later?”

“first lesson of the year, kimi. do not trust a word that man says to you.”

the pair linked arms and made their way out of the green room. there was a gaggle of drivers at the end of the corridor, all decked out in their racesuits except the ferrari boys who were in normal suits. the group fell silent as they all turned to see the new arrivals.

“i didn’t know it was bring your mum to work day?” alex called out as they neared the group, smiling as he came to hug her.

a french-accented voice hollered a ‘milf’ from the back of the group, y/n suspected it was pierre, but paid no mind. an offended squeak followed as y/n looked up to see max delivering a slap to the back of his head.

“i’m just dropping him off, i gotta get to my seat before i’m roped into an interview. i had to sneak in this afternoon, i swear sky sports are like stalking me!”

the group watched along as y/n leaned in to whisper into kimi’s ear, “remember what i told you. smile, be likeable and tell jokes. these people are underestimating you, let them. we’ll do our real talking in the car. good luck and try and have some fun.”

the pair did their ‘handshake’, which really was just a pinky promise, and broke apart. y/n looks back at the group one more time, smiles at max and takes her leave. just a couple paces down the corridor, a voice called out her name.

“y/n, hey!” lewis called, catching up to her quickly, “i didn’t think i’d see you back here tonight.”

“i wasn’t planning on it, to be fair. kimi is technically an adult now, but i still didn’t want to leave him on his own here of all places.”

lewis laughed as the pair looked back at the group. kimi had nestled himself next to ollie, quietly talking to each other with esteban looking over both of them. y/n caught the gaze of esteban and the frenchman gave her a quick nod before inserting himself into the conversation. the height difference between kimi and esteban was comical, but y/n was happy knowing esteban would look out for him in places she couldn’t be.

“i didn’t think you would like the whole mentor role, being so young and everything, but you seem to be doing a good job.”

“thank you lewis, but honestly he makes it very easy,” y/n looked at the group again with a fond look on her face.

lewis brought his hand to her face and made her look at him, “i thought i’d never see that look on your face again.”

y/n looked down and blushed, shaking lewis’ hand off. “i am happy. a lot happier than i expected to be, anyway.”

“i’m happy that you’re happy. i’m happy you’re back, i won’t keep my distance this time, even if you’re in the home of the enemy now.”

y/n laughed, “well i thought it was bad going back to your ex, and look at me now. so maybe they’re not as much as an enemy as you think.”

an announcement from further down the corridor cute the conversation there, lewis tries not to look bothered, but y/n can still tell.

“looks like you’re needed elsewhere, superstar,” y/n said with a wink, “try not to let charles outshine you too much.”

“he wishes.”

y/n watched him walk away and was confused. lewis had never expressed interest in her before, platonic or romantic. even when she was a young rookie with stars in her eyes, she was never on his radar. was she now? the visit in london had been weird and the way his eyes had been fixed on her since she arrived today was even weirder.

y/n didn’t really have the time to be grappling with that struggle today, not with everything else going on. the audience seemed like enough distance between her and lando, but after monaco, there was no real knowing what could happen. george was just as confusing as his compatriot, with harsh words but also a glimmer of something else too.

she needed a glass of champagne pronto.

max watched the interaction between y/n and lewis like a hawk, so focused that he didn’t realise that he had formed quite an audience. nico hulkenberg, kimi, ollie and esteban watched him try and conceal his feelings, but his face showed every thought.

“you want to make it any more obvious that you’re jealous?” nico said, nudging max to break him out of his daze.

“i’m not jealous, i just wonder what they actually have to talk about…”

“you’re not jealous you say? you didn’t even glare at him this much during 2021.” esteban chimed in.

max furrowed his brows and forced himself to look away. he already felt guilty for harbouring these feelings for y/n and now he’s faced with a curious look from kimi, making him feel even worse. he did not want to make the same mistake as lando and george had in the past. he meant it when he said he just wanted to exist with her.

“kimi, how would you feel about having max as your dad?” ollie said, hiding slightly behind esteban.

“he’s very good with the cats?”

“thanks, that’s such a glowing recommendation, kimi, thanks!”

kimi held up his hands in surrender but max couldn’t be angry at the italian - plus he did take very good care of his cats and brando. in fact, he had nearly thrown his back out, much to red bull’s chagrin, building a new cat tower so brando could watch the birds from his preferred spot. the cat had settled in well in his place in monaco while y/n had been staying, the dutchman didn’t want to think too much about what it could mean, but it was on his mind.

“i just mean i caught you googling how to make sure your cat is getting enough vitamin d because you were worried about how cloudy it’s been in monaco?”

kimi tried to backpedal, but his anecdote was overheard by more drivers, bringing them into the conversation.

“are you being for real? vitamins are just pseudoscience dude,” pierre said but isack popped his head into the circle to say, “vitamins are real? and vitamin d deficiency is actually a really huge problem.”

“thank you isack!”

“as if i’m taking health advice from a rookie,” pierre laughed. yuki took his turn to pipe up next, “i saw you eat a whole jar of peanut butter in one sitting last winter break? what do you know about health?”

“why is it gang up on pierre hour? why aren’t we focusing on the real issue here? like how pathetic max is about y/n?”

max sputtered as even more drivers joined the conversation.

“i am not pathetic. brando is practically my son. kimi back me up, doesn’t he love me?”

“he does -” kimi started defending max before charles butted in with a: “calling for help from the other son? we see how it is verstappen.”

this was a losing battle. max just hoped it stayed this light hearted but he saw lando and george approaching the group.

“max is not my dad, but i wouldn’t mind. he drove all the way to nice to pick up my parcel because i didn’t understand monaco postal charges!”

poor kimi was trying to help, but he was just making it inadvertently worse.

“this is making your pseudoadoption last year look like child’s play, oscar,” alex said, earning him a whack from charles.

“kimi is not my son, but that doesn’t mean i won’t look out for him. this is a horrible place to come when you’re already disliked. some people, not naming names, have made it clear they have a problem with him and y/n, so it’s simply my moral duty to look out for him.”

the group quietened down, looking amongst each other.

“why am i so out of the loop, who is bullying this literal child?” nico said, pulling kimi into his chest, the italian letting out a squeak as the german petted him. “so? do tell.”

for two people who were very eager to call y/n and kimi every name under the sun just a week ago, they were very silent in that moment.

“oh! we’re talking about the lovely cocktail party i threw that was ruined by lando and george!” charles blurted out, he grabbed fernando’s hand, “it was so nice, i even brought olives, but they came in spouting all this shit about y/n and kimi and seduction and older women?”

both brits scratched the backs of their necks. the cocktail party drama was not a good move from them, especially so close to the start of the season.

“it wasn’t quite like that?” george hurried out.

“you accused y/n of trying to sleep with me?” oscar said.

“you said that i was going the max verstappen route of getting with an older ‘problematic’ woman?” kimi added from nico’s side.

“you also kinda implicated yourself in y/n’s crash?” alex heaped on for good measure.

“alex!?” george and lando shouted, “whose side are you meant to be on?”

“i’m not on a “side” because i’m not fucking five, but i will point out hypocrisy and stupidity and that’s both of you. come on, it’s 2025 and you guys are still stuck in like 2017.”

“right, i feel really stupid because what the fuck are you people talking about and why wasn’t i invited to this party?” fernando said, a confused look on his face.

“lando and george are still hung up on y/n years later even though she never actually expressed interest in them, max has the best odds on actually sealing the deal and i don’t know, kimi is getting shit because he brought her back and none of them can actually regulate their emotions!” charles said, exasperated, “keep up grandpa, you’ve been here the whole time!”

“i do not have the ‘best odds’ because y/n isn’t a horse, you don’t bet on women?” max bit back.

“actually i bet on women all the time,” yuki said but when he saw how the group were looking at him he added, “ufc, duh!”

even as they were herded towards the backstage, the group continued bickering like children.

“all i’m saying is that your crush is super obvious and you need to be careful! y/n will know and will use it against you, just look at what happened with me and george!” lando hissed at max.

the dutchman glared at the brit, this really had gone too far. “can you like actually give me an example of where she ‘led you on’ i am genuinely curious,” max snipped, “quickly.”

lando immediately looked at the floor and bit his lip. max began tapping his foot with an impatient look.

“well she would be super flirty with me in the videos the team would make us film?” lando didn’t sound convinced, and max didn’t buy a single second of it.

“if that’s what you think flirting is i feel sorry for all of your ex girlfriends, you must be a horrible boyfriend - ouch!” charles was cut off by a shove from george.

“stay out of this charles!”

“i won’t stay out of this, y/n is actually a friend of mine. yeah that’s right she doesn’t hate me because i don’t assume that any girl who is fractionally nice to me is in love with me.”

“lando you basically tortured that girl her entire formula one career, do you need to do it now as well?” max said, “i think this season will be a lot easier for you if you drop this now.”

“is that a threat?”

“it’s a promise.”

all the bickering surrounding the pair ceased, tension rising in the air. the call for the mclaren boys drew lando out of his stare down with max. the brit joined oscar at the front of the queue and painted on his PR smile.

y/n had found her way to her seat, flanked by natalie pinkham on one side and jenson button on the other. there goes her plans for a quiet evening.

“so the rumours are true,” jenson said before jumping up to give her a hug, “i’ve missed you, rocky”

y/n flushed at the nickname. since her first ever race in formula one, jenson had crowned her his ‘pocket rocket’ which had eventually been worn down to just rocky. she hadn’t heard it in so long, jenson’s appearances being relegated to messages via sara or flowers that only gave away his identity with the use of rocky.

“did sky set up this seating arrangement? are you going to ambush me for an interview?”

“i can’t believe you’d think so low of me,” jenson clutched at his imaginary pearls, “and as if you can say no to me anyway.”

the pair took their seats as the show started. natalie handed her a glass of champagne and whispered in her ear, “you might need this.” well that doesn’t bode well.

the two mclaren drivers made their way out onto stage, joined by zak and andrea. y/n leaned into jenson, “i don’t understand why he insists on being everywhere, have we not suffered enough?”

jenson tried to stifle his laugh, “are you sure you don’t want to work in commentary?”

“i think it’s best i keep my opinion on these men to myself.”

the mclaren spiel followed the closely the same scripts they used when y/n still raced for them, though a healthy dose of constructors champions boasting had been added. a second questionable decision from formula one reared it’s head when nico rosberg asked his first unscripted question:

“so boys, how do you feel about the return of former mclaren driver y/n y/ln to the paddock? excited to see her?”

y/n swore she could see lando’s eye twitch from her front row seat. there was an awkward pause and y/n could feel the rest of the audience tense. even though the general public didn’t know the ins and outs of the fall out, there was definitely rising suspicion.

nico found y/n in the audience and gave her such a shit-eating grin that she almost didn’t care about the situation he just put her in.

“we’re of course over the moon to see her back in the paddock. i know i’ve harboured a lot of guilt as to how i ended up with my seat, so i’m happy that y/n can see me in action and hopefully i can continue to make her proud!” oscar said with a genuine smile, the only convincing one from the men clad in orange.

“continue to?” nico asked, “have you had confirmation of this?”

y/n’s eyes snapped to oscar who despite receiving glares from his boss, continued on.

“we spoke at charles’ cocktail party. i’ve always been a fan of hers and it was great to finally set the record straight. she was a lot more graceful than i would’ve been in her position. to be honest i was a bit of a weepy mess, but she was very supportive. i’m only slightly jealous of kimi…”

“very nice. did you get any insight on her opinion on hungary?” nico pushed, only to be cut off by zak.

“if you so desperately want her opinion on everything, you can wait until you’re on sky’s dime. this is a car launch, no? we’re confident in our car for this season and intend on winning both championships. and do you know how we’re going to do that? with the two drivers on stage right now, not one who was a flash in the pan four years ago.”

you could hear a pin drop in the venue. even lando had a shocked look on his face as he and oscar exchanged a look.

“that’s fighting talk from the man who ended her career, but what do i know?” nico said sharply but then turned to the audience, “ladies and gentlemen, mclaren!”

there was tentative applause from crowd and when y/n and oscar made eye contact she gave him a small smile. this was only the first team…

nico looked for y/n in the front row and gave her a thumbs up to which she shook her head violently. jenson burst out laughing, “well, i don’t think we’ll be having this as the car launch format again.”

“i don’t know about you but i’m throughly entertained,” natalie said, “if nico was like that with mclaren, i can’t wait for ferrari!”

the next few teams were decidedly less dramatic. y/n could see kimi and george lining up next to come on stage and she hoped the italian remembered her advice.

george walked on stage with confident strides, followed by toto and finally kimi. the italian looked out at the audience, squinting from the harsh lights but calming his features when he saw y/n. she gave him a thumbs up and got a smile in return.

“you’re loving this mum role aren’t you?” jenson said.

“you’re making me feel old, stop. but yes i would kill myself if anything happened to him, so i guess so.”

back on stage, nico had started his interview. first toto was being grilled about the hopes for the season and how life at mercedes would be without lewis hamilton. the german was clearly trying to bait his former boss into giving him a juicy soundbite.

“kimi, let’s come to you now. you’re first season in formula one and you’ve already brought in the big guns? y/n y/ln as your mentor, that’s a big statement.”

kimi looked startled and his eyes snapped to meet y/n’s. she nodded to him, urging him to answer.

“why wouldn’t i want a legend of the sport like her as my mentor? she still knows what she’s doing, and if it ruffles some feathers in the paddock at the same time, what’s the harm?”

she was so proud of her protégé. jenson choked on his champagne at kimi’s answer, “kids got balls.”

“well, well, well. you’re not beating around the bush are you? but do tell me, kimi, what’s so special about you that y/n would come out of retirement?”

“i’ll save that answer for australia, nico,” kimi said, surprised by the laughs from the audience, “but maybe i’ve just got a charm the rest of the grid doesn’t?”

“holy shit,” natalie said, “was this the strategy, y/n?”

“i told him to make them like him? are you not entertained?”

nico, for once, was speechless on stage. george huffed next to toto, waiting for his turn to talk. the german clocked onto this and a devilish smile broke out on his face.

“so george, you and y/n grew up together… do you not have charm? as far as we can tell, you haven’t spoken to y/n in years?”

y/n’s mouth dropped open. jenson was right, there’s no way this format, at least with nico hosting, was ever happening again.

“i have more than enough charm, thank you nico. are you going to ask us anymore questions about the season or is it all just tabloid questions from you tonight?”

“tabloid?! well, now that makes me think you’ve got something to hide… but as for your 2025 season, are you afraid that you might lose to an 18-year-old rookie?”

george sputtered in response, “i have no fear of losing, i just beat a seven time world champion, a rookie, no offence, has no bearing on my season.”

“that’s a big claim, george. you better hope you stick to it. it’ll be your sixth season in formula one, do you think you’ll finally be able to claim the number one driver role?”

george’s face was getting redder and redder as he tried to remain calm. he made eye contact with y/n briefly, giving her the subtlest glare he could.

“i think i made a very good case for myself for the last two seasons and toto has faith in me to lead this team back to where they should be.”

nico had a wolfish grin on his face, he was enjoying this psychological torture a little too much.

“you don’t think toto has more faith in kimi, a driver he allowed to skip an entire step on the junior ladder and is giving his formula one debut at just 18? and straight into a mercedes rather than say… a williams?”

george’s shiny mask was starting to slip. this was meant to be a fun event for fans but had descended into a nico rosberg masterclass of making everyone suffer - and for once y/n was enjoying it.

“classy as always, nico,” george said.

“it’s what i do best,” nico laughed to himself, “back to you kimi, are you intimidated at all by your senior teammate? do you think you can make a case for yourself as the number one driver?”

the italian paused for a moment, thinking to y/n’s advice - he needed people to like him.

“i’m more than happy to play a team game to bring mercedes back to the top,” he smiled to toto, “but make no mistake i’m here to win and i won’t just step aside without good reason.”

“well, this is a duo i’ll be watching closely this season. mercedes!”

the trio shuffled off of stage and y/n let out a sigh of relief, she could throw back as much champagne as she wanted now.

another couple of teams made their way past nico’s questioning, but as nico hulkenberg and gabriel bortoleto made their way off of the stage the audience held their breath. next was ferrari.

charles, lewis and fred vasseur made their way on stage, and as has become classic fashion, lewis situated himself as far from nico as possible.

“welcome, welcome. a different line up this year and much to think about, do you think you can finally bring the championship back to italy?”

fred started on what was likely a pre-written script and y/n tuned out for a second. the ferrari boys looked nothing short of glamorous in their tailored black suits with the yellow of the ferrari logo popping on the left breast. both men looked assured, no nerves, just pure confidence - the type of confidence that draws you to a person.

y/n caught lewis’ eye and he gave her a quick wink, something that did not go unnoticed by jenson beside her.

“what was that all about, rocky?” jenson whispered. y/n kept looking forward, ignoring jenson’s stare burning into the side of her head. the brit kept poking her, “i’m not going to stop until you answer me!”

y/n batted his hand away, “i don’t know what you’re talking about old man, leave me alone!”

“i saw that, hell, the whole place saw that! you are aware that is a man 14 years your senior!”

y/n downed her champagne and whispered to jenson, “listen, i don’t know what the fuck is happening! he came to my apartment and he’s being really nice? i don’t know?!”

jenson looked between the two and grabbed his own champagne. “i was teammates with that guy! you might be a grown up now but he’s really old!”

y/n slapped a hand over her mouth to stop her laughing out loud. jenson did have a point. was lewis actually flirting with her or was he just being nice? was she falling into the same headspace that lando and george were in with her?

“i am not going to get with lewis, jens. he’s just being nice, that’s all. now shut up i want to see if nico makes the brocedes breakup all of our problem.”

nico had finished his interrogation of charles and set his sights on his former teammate. y/n grabbed jenson’s hand in anticipation.

“so lewis, new team, new you? how do you feel coming into a team where charles has dominated for the last five years?”

lewis gives nico a forced smile, “i am excited for the challenge. there’s a lot of changes coming into this season, people leaving and new faces. it’s best to face a challenge head on rather than running.”

“you didn’t run from mercedes? you didn’t want to stick it out and retire with the team that gave you so much success?”

“you’d know all about running wouldn’t you nico?”

y/n dropped her glass of champagne and the rest of the audience gasped but nico did not look phased at all.

“i am happy with my decision, time will tell if you’ll be happy with yours. charles dealt with sebastian, don’t think he’ll roll over for you.”

charles looked like he wanted to be anywhere else but on stage and fred’s face would tell you he’s at the gallows rather than a car launch.

“was in your brief today to make the vibes in here as rancid as possible? as i said i am excited for the season ahead and nothing you can say today will change that.”

lewis took the lead and left the stage, leaving nico alone with a pleased look on his face. the german found y/n’s gaze again and wiggled his eyebrows. if there was ever a man you need to take the heat off of you, he was the one.

there was one final team to go and this entire nightmare of a night would be over. the final team was none other than red bull - nothing could possibly go wrong here could they?

christian, like the other team principals, started with a long-winded spiel that said a whole lot of nothing. y/n smiled widely when she caught max’s eye and he responded with an eye roll directed at christian’s rambling. the dutchman, for a second, had forgotten he was in fact on stage in front of thousands. the pair stare at each other and bite their lips to keep the laughs in.

jenson leaned in again, “not to keep questioning you, but what is happening here? and don’t lie, i know he’s the only one you kept in contact with and who you have been staying with in monaco.”

“it’s nothing! it’s something? i don’t know what it is? we’re just existing together. i think romance in the paddock is the worst thing for me right now. i need to be fully focused on kimi.”

“first of all - we’re exisiting together? that’s so fucking gross. and two - you’re still allowed to have fun?” jenson wiggled his eyebrows.

“not everyone can be the playboy of formula one, stud.”

“true. i’m not sure you have the devilishly good looks to be a playboy - hey”

y/n snatched his glass of champagne and turned back towards the stage just as max took to the microphone.

“so max, do you think there’s a chance of a fifth title in a row?”

max laughed in his signature way, “here i thought you’d gotten all of your aggression out with lewis. we’ll have to see how we line up against the other teams, but you always have to believe you can win every single race, so that’s what i’ll continue to do.”

a quick glance from nico told y/n that her peaceful night hadn’t started just yet.

“you’ll finally have your best friend back in the paddock, are you still excited even though she’ll be in mercedes uniform?”

“i think toto has another thing coming if he thinks she’ll be wearing that ugly uniform,” max said, “but it makes no difference to me what garage y/n is in, we’re like magnets, you can’t keep us a part for long.”

nico hummed, “is that why you were the only one she kept in contact with after the crash?”

“yes? it’s mostly because we’re best friends but also because i’m a decent human being.”

oh fuck.

“how do you mean, max?”

christian tried to butt in, “i don’t think we need to go into that here.”

“oh i’m more than happy to, and nico has been stirring all night, what’s just a little more to add to the pot?”

you could almost hear the audience shuffling to the edge of their seats and for the first time that evening, y/n felt some of the cameras on her. she gave them a small wave and hoped they would pan back to the actual action.

“all i’m saying is that there are a lot of victim complexes in the paddock, it’s full of people who would rather say ‘i don’t know why she doesn’t talk to me?’ rather than do some actual introspection. y/n will talk to you if you’re not an asshole, just as kimi.”

“so you’re saying there’s a truth to the rumours?”

“which rumours? you know, since your employers like to report on so many?”

nico chuckled, “well, the rumours that perhaps the brits in the paddock didn’t get on as well as we were led to believe?”

max smiled, “well, that’s not my story to tell, but i’ve found that if you ask them, they’re more than happy to give you the scoop.”

for a moment, y/n’s heart stopped, fearing that nico would take this as the chance to bring her into the fray. max seemed to sense this as well and added, “but as for me, i’m just happy she’s back in any capacity. i’ve missed my partner in crime.”

“have you spoken about formula one in her break at all? you won all four of your titles in that time?”

“i know she watched it, but we haven’t spoken about it. i respected her boundaries at the time, but i knew she was watching based on some suspiciously timed texts.”

nico laughed, “i’m not sure we can ever stay away from this sport for long.”

“i’m glad that is the case,” max said, more to himself than anyone else.

the red bull boys were ushered off of the stage as nico delivered his closing remarks and announced the musical guests.

“he’s glad that’s the case? oh he’s in deep,” jenson gasped, “you can’t tell me that’s nothing, i rebuke it right this second.”

y/n sighed, standing and heading to the backstage bar. “i really don’t want to think about it jenson.”

“but you’re staying at his house, he’s building shit for your cat and gushing about you on stage!”

“i am well aware, but i don’t really know what you want me to do about that?”

“i want you to get your man and let him treat you how you’re supposed to be!”

y/n picked up another glass of champagne, talking the biggest sip before replying to jenson.

“you’re just as bad as the girls on twitter sometimes.”

kimi bursts through the doors, back in his comfy clothes, and rushes over to y/n. she wraps the italian into a hug.

“i’m so proud of you!”

kimi blushes, rocking back and forth on his feet, “thank you, y/n! i’m so glad we’ve got this out of the way i’m ready to race now!”

jenson laughed along side them, “an eager one, this one. i remember when i had that much energy.”

the rest of the drivers flooded into the room, grabbing drinks or just taking a seat. max, much like kimi, made his way straight to y/n, also pulling her into his chest. he whispered in her ear, “i’m sorry i got carried away talking about you, i just can’t help myself.”

y/n can’t help but feel the butterflies in her stomach at the confession. she was really trying to keep her feelings out of her return to formula one, but seeing max like this was putting a real spanner in the works. the dutchman’s protective nature along side his intense respect for her made her feel special for the first time since the crash.

“i take no offence, maxy. i’ll never say no to a compliment, especially from you.”

the group moves away from the bar and as they settle into their seats backstage, max’s arm wraps around her waist. y/n knew she shouldn’t do it, not here in front of everyone but that’s what her heart wanted. the first few weeks into her return and all the drama was wearing on her and they hadn’t even made it to the paddock yet. she snuggled into max’s side, letting the dutchman brush her hair out of her face.

“y/n?” kimi said from the other side of her, “i’m really happy you’re here, and i hope you’ll let yourself have this,” kimi motioned to max, who was deep in conversation with jenson.

“don’t you worry about that, kimi.”

“you’ve punished yourself for years, please don’t keep telling yourself that you’re not allowed this. also don’t wait up for me, i’m going to crash at ollie’s”

kimi said as his departing gift as he went to catch up with ollie and watch some of the music. y/n let herself relax back into max’s hold and her eyes close, all of the pent up stress of the evening rushing out.

“are we really that boring?” jenson asked.

“do you want to get out of here, y/n?” max asked, when y/n flopped further onto him, he took that as his answer.

grabbing her bag, max took y/n’s hand in his and pulled her from the seat. the pair exchanged hugs with jenson and made a quiet exit from backstage. they tried to be as subtle as possible, but nothing is ever secret in formula one.

jenson slid in beside lewis at the bar.

“you want to tell me what your plan is with her?”

lewis looked at his former teammate in confusion.

“i saw that wink and i know you were flirting with her when you went to her apartment. what’s the plan, you’re 14 years older than her?”

“i don’t have a plan? i felt bad about how i was when she was in formula one, i’m just trying to make her feel welcome again.”

“and winking at her at a televised event is definitely going to help?”

lewis scoffed, “i don’t really like what you’re implying.”

“i’m implying that you need to watch your step, seriously. the vultures are just waiting for her to make one wrong step, don’t give them an excuse to call her a gold digger or anything along those lines.”

“and what if i said i did like her?”

“i’d ask you if you actually know her? you didn’t speak to her after the crash, you didn’t speak to her when she was in the sport so i’m confused to where this would have come from?”

“you can drop the dad act jenson, i’m just being friendly. it looks like max got in there first anyway.”

jenson hummed, “not everything is a competition.”

y/n and max climbed into max’s hire car for the weekend and finally let themselves breathe.

“that was a lot,” y/n said, slipping off her heels, “nico really was out for blood.”

“i found it entertaining, but that usually is a death wish for anything in formula one.”

the pair laughed, and as max turned the ignition, y/n’s taylor swift playlist crackled into life.

“are you heading back to your hotel or do you want to crash at mine?” y/n asked as she put her address into the gps, despite max knowing nearly every route across london to her apartment.

“a chance to avoid team duties for as long as possible? count me in!”

“so you don’t want to spend more time with me? just want to avoid your team?”

max placed his hand on her thigh, “you know i always want to spend more time with you.”

the streets were relatively clear at this time with the event still in swing. max weaved through traffic as they entered west london. the dutchman nestled his car in y/n’s spot for her pink cadillac that was still in monaco. y/n started to fiddle with her heels to put them back on, but max stopped her.

he walked round to her side of the car and picked up her up bridal style. y/n giggled and wrapped her arms around max’s neck. the pair made their way up to her apartment as fast as possible, but made sure to say hi to frank who not so subtlety gave y/n a thumbs up and a wink.

the apartment was quiet without the meows of brando who was also back in monaco with jimmy and sassy. max stopped in the kitchen to pour two glasses of water but y/n went ahead to the bathroom to wash off the grime of the event.

she slipped into bed dressed in her pjamas that consisted of some old gym shorts and one of max’s toro rosso shirts. the dutchman knocked on her door.

“come in, maxy.”

max made his way into the room, placing the glass of water on her beside table. he sat on the edge of the bed, “good night, try not to dream of me too much.” the dutchman leaned down to give her a kiss on the forehead before moving back towards the door.

“max?”

“yes?”

“will you stay with me?”

“always.”

max got under the covers and tentatively reached out to her. sensing the apprehension, y/n turned over and tucked herself under max’s chin. his arms snuck around her waist and for the first time in three years, y/n finally slept peacefully without the images of her crash.

fin.

note: sorry this took so long, i've been a bit of a writing rut but i'm back!

taglist: @folkloresreputation @hc-dutch @shimmermotorsport @96mcobo @eclipsedcherry @formulaal @czennieszn @gothicwidowsworld @emily-b @suns3treading @henna006 @kazgirl20 @anotherapollokid @littlegrapejuice @daemyratwst @annimausi @yawn-zi @lulu-1998 @xsilkesworld @justaf1girl @daddyslittlevillain @evans-dejong @abq654 @elizamoe133 @wierdflowerpower @t1nkerbel1 @okcurran @raizelchrysanderoctavius @skepvids @multilovebot @fernandoalonso14 @jules-kup-172 @m4xgirlie @rorabelle15 @minkyungseokie @formula1-motogpfan @peterholland04 @miureiz @freyathehuntress @lighttsoutlewis @aleatorio1234 @chaosandevelyn@blueberry648579@dog-and-cat-person230@fastandcurious16@obxstiles@cosmicwintr@becca388510@savagittariuspy@tibadi @thisbitxhs-blog @finn-dot-com @scenesofobx @moofilms @alilstressyandlotdepressy @nana-love-bugzzz @mayax2o07 @obsessed-fan-alert @1-queenofpotatoes-1 @jajouska @poppysrin @mimimarvelingmarvel @jiyumie @heeseungthel0ml 

[luvergirl-866]

dreams, fairytales, fantasies

pairing - paige bueckers x azzi fudd

word count - 7.9k

c/w - language, drinking, fluff, and ofc smut (sub p, sub a, strap, eating, fingering…it’s a lot) (also heavy usage of pet names bc i am a sucker for them)

a/n - this is just a real depiction of what happens when lesbians go two weeks without sex 😔. no but fr, i hope yall enjoy!!! (feedback much appreciated, esp bc this is not edited) (also, im majorly crediting the smut queen @basketball-lesbians bc ease and stiff changed the way i write smut forever).

The much anticipated make-up sex doesn’t happen until a week later, which is about six days after they’ve actually made up—which they manage without the involvement of sex. And that’s a great thing for them, considering they have a history of resolving arguments via orgasm, but they also can’t give themselves the credit because the no-sex thing wasn’t really their decision. (If it had been up to them, Azzi would have jumped Paige’s bones that very night they made up).

That day, though, was spent talking, reliving their breakup and the horrible year afterward for the sole purpose of truly processing it. They had continued talking during that time, of course, claiming to be ‘best friends’, but they meticulously danced around the topic of their high school relationship and the fact they were both miserable once it ended, grieving it in their own ways. They talked for hours, and both of them quickly came to realize that there was so much they hadn’t told each other. Azzi was shocked to hear that Paige spent her entire freshman year moping around, never getting out and having fun like Azzi wanted her to do. (“Seriously? I thought you hoed around?” she said when Paige gave her this information. Paige shrugged and said, “I told you I did, so I didn’t seem lame. But yeah, no. I smoked a lot and looked at our pictures and that’s—well, yeah, that’s pretty much it.”)

Paige was just as shocked when Azzi told her she tried going on a date with someone else, just to get the breakup off her mind, and they kissed at the end of the night and she went inside and cried for a long time. (“I didn’t know you went out with anyone,” Paige said, not particularly jealous, just a little hurt because even though they were exes that year, they were still best friends, and they usually told each other everything. Azzi picked her thumbnail, eyebrows drawn at the memory. “It hurt too much. I didn’t even tell my mom.” That, if possible, made Paige feel even worse).

Anyway, by the time they talked everything through (with some crying involved, and maybe a little kissing, too), it was late at night and they were both emotionally exhausted from the day. They’d gotten ready to sleep and laid in Azzi’s bed and murmured about how much they’d missed each other for about two minutes before they promptly assed out.

And then it was the week, their time consumed with classes, homework, practice, and even grownup things like grocery shopping. They spent as much time together as they could, practically magnetized to each other, attached at that hip when they were in the same vicinity. But they were both swamped with homework and while they tried to do it together that Monday, they quickly realized that it was impossible to focus around each other. Or at least, Azzi did. (“C’mon, we’re doing okay,” Paige said, at approximately 1 A.M., when they had been at it for four hours and had gotten absolutely nothing done. “I wouldn’t say that, P,” Azzi mumbled, slinging her bag over her shoulder and pecking a sulking Paige on the lips. “No more school around each other, ‘kay?” She couldn’t help but be amused at Paige’s exaggerated pouting. “I think we’ll be okay. See you tomorrow, baby.”

That night, her phone had blown up with messages from Paige, most of them silly selfies of her pouting at the camera as she sat at her desk with schoolwork laid out in front of her. Even that was enough to distract Azzi from her work).

So, no, it’s not until Saturday—the night of their second-first date—that the make-up sex (that can’t really be considered make-up sex anymore) happens. But, as the saying goes, good things come to those who wait. And that must be true because that night turns out to be very good indeed.

It all starts before the two of them are even together, with Azzi picking her outfit for their date. She’s never been good with decisions, and this is a big one in her book. She needs to wear the perfect outfit—something sexy and cute and romantic and alluring all at once. An hour into choosing the outfit, Caroline is beginning to regret offering to help.

“Okay, you’re just overthinking it now,” she says, exasperated, watching as Azzi frowns at herself in the mirror.

“If I don’t overthink it I’ll end up looking ugly,” Azzi says, turning this way and that in the mirror, making sure the outfit looks good from every angle. But when she takes a step back, leans her head to the side just so, and turns to the left, the shirt suddenly makes her look atrocious. With a frustrated sigh, Azzi takes it off, tossing it onto the ground.

Caroline groans, flopping onto Azzi’s bed. “What was wrong with that one?”

“Everything,” Azzi replies, going back to her closet to try again. “Has my wardrobe always been this bad?” she mutters to herself.

“You look good in everything, Az,” Caroline says. “And your clothes are cute. Paige is going to love you in whatever you decide to wear.”

Which is true—Azzi could be wearing jorts and a flannel and Paige would still swear up and down she’s the prettiest girl in the world. But love and want are two different things. After two weeks of no sex Azzi needs to be wanted.

“You know what your problem is?” Caroline asks as Azzi rummages through her clothes.

“What?” Azzi asks, sort of desperately.

“Your bra,” Caroline says simply.

Azzi looks down at her bra, then turns to Caroline, a little confused. “It’s a cute bra, though?”

“Yeah, it’s cute,” Caroline concedes, leaning back on her hands and giving Azzi an up-and-down look. “But I thought you were trying to get laid tonight?”

Azzi nods, because duh she’s trying to get laid tonight. It’s all she’s been talking about all week.

Caroline wiggles her eyebrows suggestively. “Then, this isn’t really about your outfit. It’s about what’s underneath.”

As she stares at her genius best friend, Azzi nods slowly, starting to get it. “I need lingerie.”

“Yup.” Caroline smiles, satisfied. “As soon as you put some sexy panties on, I promise you, girl, you’re gonna feel better about yourself.”

Azzi is already reaching back into her closet, opening her special drawer and rifling through it. “Should I wear one she hasn’t seen before?”

“Yeah, for sure,” Caroline agrees, standing up and walking over to Azzi, peering over her shoulder at her array of underwear. “And don’t tell her you’re wearing it, either. It has to be a surprise.”

Azzi pulls a few sets out, but none of them particularly catch her eye, and it isn’t until they’ve been searching for a few minutes that Caroline reaches into the closet and grabs a still-sealed box, the logo of a designer lingerie brand on the lid. “What about this?” she asks.

It takes a moment for her to remember what the box contains. She’d bought it just a month ago, on a whim, and while it had cost her a fortune she also couldn’t not buy it. She’d, of course, had Paige in mind when she’d bought it, but they haven’t exactly had lingerie sex in awhile—with their busy schedules, they’ve only had time for spur-of-the-moment quickies and lazy mouths and fingers in the mornings before practice.

But this—this is going to be post-date, make-up sex. The absolute perfect occasion to wear insanely expensive lingerie catered specifically for Paige.

With an excited smile, Azzi (with the help of Caroline) gets all laced into the set. And once it’s on, it becomes surprisingly easy to choose the perfect outfit. Because Azzi knows, by the end of the night, Paige will forget all about what she’s wearing, the memory replaced by what she’s not.

———————————————

Paige, of course, tries to fuck her multiple times before they even get to the restaurant. It starts immediately, when she comes to pick her up and they share a chaste hug and kiss, and Azzi takes the flowers from her hands and turns to find a vase to put them in—Paige’s eyes trail down to her ass and stay there for longer than she’d like to admit. And then Azzi is carefully arranging the flowers, talking about how excited she is for their date, when Paige comes up behind her and holds her tight. It’s a gesture that Azzi thinks is innocent until Paige kisses her neck and murmurs, “You look good, Az. Makes me wanna make us late for our reservation.”

Azzi’s entire body heats at that, but she playfully shoves Paige away, not about to let their hormones get in the way of this date.

But then, it happens again, in the car on the way over. Paige’s hand rests on Azzi’s thigh while she drives, which isn’t unusual, and Azzi doesn’t question it—that is, until her fingers trace a slow but sure path between her legs. Azzi lets it go farther than she probably should, only pulling Paige’s hand away once she’s fully touching her clothed center. Laughing, Azzi returns Paige’s hand onto her side of the car. “Your thigh-touching privileges are revoked for that.”

Paige groans. “I didn’t even do nothing, don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Just keep your hands to yourself, weirdo.”

And when they get to the restaurant, Paige opens her door for her, guides her in by the small of her back, pulls out her chair. It reminds Azzi of a more mature, experienced version of the Paige she dated in high school, and it reminds her exactly why their relationship was so perfect back then. It also reminds her of the aching need between her legs, the one that’s been there for two long weeks and that now practically burns in anticipation. But, she forces herself to ignore it, to just focus on the romance of it all. Paige decides to make that difficult by running a foot up and down her calf, and when she hisses at her to stop, Paige laughs and says, “You’re imagining things.”

It’s not five minutes later that Paige picks up her phone and begins typing. A flash of annoyance comes from the side of Azzi that thrives off attention, more particularly Paige’s attention, and that’s so used to constantly having it it’s a little off-putting when she doesn’t. But then, a moment later, her own phone buzzes, and Paige sets her’s down with a satisfied little smirk.

Azzi rolls her eyes. “You’re stupid.”

“Look at your phone.”

“That’s rude,” Azzi teases. “We’re on our first date.”

“We’ve been on a million dates before,” Paige says, which is technically true. “Look at it.”

Amidst the usual lighthearted, joking tone of Paige’s words, Azzi also catches a hint of something demanding, something that leaves no room for argument—at least, not without repercussion—and it makes it impossible to focus on the setting they’re in without also thinking of the events that will occur when they get home.

She picks up her phone, and there’s a text from one ‘P Boogs 💗’. When she opens it, she finds a stupid, horny text, nothing short of what she expected: can we go fuck in the bathroom or??

Rolling her eyes, and a little relieved that Paige didn’t actually write anything sexy (because if she had, Azzi’s not sure she would’ve been able to resist), she kicks her under the table and sets her phone down. “No, Paige. What’d I say about no more public restrooms?”

Reminiscent of a small child, Paige crosses her arms and slumps back in her seat. “I rebuke that.”

“You don’t know what that word means,” Azzi waves her off, before motioning to their plates. “Now eat before your food gets cold.”

Azzi has only two glasses of wine, so by the time they’re driving home she’s the perfect amount of tipsy. Wine also tends to make her horny, which doesn’t hurt the situation.

“You’re really okay?” Paige asks for what seems like the millionth time. “Because if you’re even, like, a little drunk, we don’t have to—“

“Paige,” Azzi says before she can finish that god-awful sentence. “I’m mostly sober. We’re all good.”

Paige glances over at her, and when she sees the firm look in her eyes she nods, relaxing into a sly smile. As she focuses back on the road, she says, “Good. Because I have an empty apartment tonight.”

The thought of it—the thought that Paige asked her roommates to clear out for the night, knowing what was to come—makes Azzi shift in her seat. The ache between her legs is crossing into painful territory at this point.

By the time they get inside Paige’s apartment, every instinct in Azzi’s body tells her to jump Paige’s bones as soon as the door is locked behind them. But Paige doesn’t really give her a chance—first kicking off her shoes and then immediately heading towards the kitchen. Azzi trails behind her as she opens the fridge.

“Hungry?” Azzi asks, a little confused considering they just had a fairly large meal at dinner. But Paige shakes her head, reaching into the side drawer of the fridge and pulling out a seltzer.

She waves it at Azzi with a smile, though it’s a little unusual—almost wavering? Not the familiar one Azzi’s used to. “Wanted a little drink.”

“Okay,” Azzi says slowly, leaning against the counter, watching as Paige cracks the can open. She shouldn’t be surprised—she herself is tipsy and it’s only fair that Paige would want to catch up after she had to drive. But Azzi has been a little blinded by the filthy thoughts that have been playing through her head all night, and was under the impression they’d fuck against the front door the minute they got home.

She’s already waited two weeks, she reminds herself. Paige only needs a drink or two—they don’t want to be drunk, not tonight—so what’s a couple more minutes?

“It’s kinda hot in here,” Paige says abruptly, and when Azzi looks at her, her cheeks flush. “Isn’t it?”

Azzi’s a little warm, but it’s mostly a mix of the alcohol and pure horniness, so she shakes her head. “Feels okay to me.”

“Oh,” Paige says, and then takes a long swig of her seltzer. She offers up that strange, wavering smile again.

Azzi studies her. This is her best friend, the girl she knows better than she knows herself. Paige is practically an extension of her at this point, it’s that easy for them to read each other. But right now, Paige is acting strange in a way Azzi can’t quite place. She’s been flirting like normal all night, but now that they’re alone she’s putting space between them. And that’s not to mention the blushing, the weird smiling, and the need for a drink.

As Paige takes an extra-long gulp of seltzer, it finally clicks where Azzi has seen this behavior from her: Back in high school, not long into their relationship, the first time they had sex.

She’s nervous.

But, no, that can’t be it, can it? They’ve slept together countless times in the four years since then. Paige knows Azzi’s body like the back of her hand. There’s no reason to be nervous.

Sure that she’s got it all wrong, Azzi crosses over to Paige, watching the way Paige’s gaze falters as she sidles up to her. “Hey,” she says, wrapping her arms around Paige’s neck, “you good?”

Paige blinks, then swallows thickly. “Me? Yeah, I’m all good.” She takes a sip from her drink. “Why you asking?”

Azzi hums, bringing a hand down to guide Paige’s free one to her waist—something she usually never has to do, as Paige tends to be pretty handsy. “You’re acting…weird, all of a sudden.”

Paige gives her a long, hard look, and Azzi thinks she’s about to deny it again but then Paige is sighing and setting her drink on the counter behind her, wrapping both arms around Azzi’s waist. “I guess I feel a little…nervous, for some reason?” she shakes her head, locks her hands behind Azzi’s back as if to steady them. “I’on know, bro. It’s stupid.”

Azzi shakes her head, playing with the baby hairs at the nape of Paige’s neck. “It’s not stupid.”

“Kinda is,” Paige says, chuckling at herself but it’s a shaky, breathy sound.

“Hey,” Azzi says gently, bringing a hand up to brush a stray strand of hair from Paige’s face, “if you’re not up to it, we don’t have to.” (Even though she spent the entire night suffering through a thong up her ass. The things we do for love.)

But Paige firmly shakes her head, gripping Azzi’s waist more tightly just to show how much she means it. “No, I don’t—you have no idea how much—“

“Yes, I do,” Azzi says incredulously. “I really fucking do.”

Paige’s breath hitches, and her gaze flicks down to Azzi’s lips. Azzi does the same, allured by the shiny gloss there, knowing it’s vanilla flavored from their previous chaste kisses tonight. She wants to taste more of it. Wonders if Paige’s lotion is vanilla, too.

“P,” she murmurs. Paige’s eyes don’t waver away when she hums, “Yeah?”

“Don’t be nervous,” she says quietly, bringing a hand down to cup her cheek, which gets Paige to look at her. “You know me,” she almost whispers.

Slowly, Paige nods, and when she leans down to connect their lips, Azzi nearly groans at the slight contact. It’s chaste to the point of innocent but it’s something, and they’re alone, and god does Paige look so good in this outfit. Paige readjusts, shifting so their legs are slotted together as she deepens the kiss just slightly, and Azzi reminisces on how she’s been waiting for this all night. Since that fateful night at Ted’s, really.

With Paige’s leg between her thighs, Azzi takes the opportunity to bare down, just slightly, only enough to increase the tension between her legs more than relieve it. But Paige groans into her mouth at the feeling and it lights her senses on fire.

They found a good dynamic years ago, and it’s one in which Paige often leads, allowing Azzi to follow without giving her the responsibility of being the first to move, to make decisions—something she’s always been more hesitant with. The past six months they’ve experimented some, stepping out of the comfort zone they had in high school and trying new things. But they still found that, for the most part, Paige prefers to lead, and Azzi prefers to be led—it just works.

But, even now, as Azzi dips her tongue into Paige’s mouth and brushes it against her’s, Paige still seems a little withheld. It’s obvious that she’s overthinking this, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out why—this is big for them. They’ve talked about their feelings and gone on their first date and this feels a little like the last step in a routine that will throw them back into that all-consuming, intense relationship they had in high school. Which is exciting, and it feels natural, like it’s only the right thing to do—but it’s a little scary, too. And, knowing she’s being expected to lead, Paige is worried about getting it wrong. Messing up, somehow.

So when Azzi pushes against the fabric of Paige’s blazer, letting it slip off her shoulders, it’s not really a conscious thought that she’s taking over this time. It’s just—something she needs to do. And, if the absolute fire in her belly says anything, it’s something she wants to do, too.

Opening her mouth a little wider, Azzi sucks Paige’s tongue gently between her lips, drawing it out slightly, and when she pulls off it she opens her eyes to find Paige with her mouth wide open, tongue out, barely five minutes into kissing and already looking so desperate for her.

The sight makes Azzi groan a little, her eyes trailing from Paige’s lips, to the curve of her jaw, to her slender neck, and without thinking about it she slides her hands around Paige’s throat, squeezing experimentally. It elicits the right reaction, Paige’s eyes widening, hands sliding down to Azzi’s ass.

Pulling her close again, Azzi ducks down, moving a hand to the side to kiss sloppily at the skin revealed there. Paige sighs, always having liked being kissed on the neck, and Azzi mutters, “Marks?”

There’s a slight pause, Azzi’s lips hovering just shy of kissing the skin of Paige’s neck, and as soon as Paige hums out a noise of affirmation, she’s basically attacking her, tongue soothing over skin as she sucks hungrily. Her hips grind instinctively down on Paige’s knee as her hands slide lower, down her chest to squeeze her tits through her thin tank. Paige gasps, using her leverage on Azzi’s ass to pull her down harder on her leg. At this point, she’s sure she’s soaking through her fancy lingerie just listening to the little noises Paige is making, and suddenly, Azzi feels hungry. The kind of hungry that tends to be insatiable.

As soon as the thought comes to her, her hands fly to the button of Paige’s jeans, staring down to watch her hands work it open. Paige watches, too, then brings a hand up to Azzi’s cheek. Azzi halts her movements, looking up at her, searching her face for any sign to stop and finding a little hesitancy there. “Hey,” she says, “you good?”

Paige nods, then glances furtively down at Azzi’s hands. “I don’t think I’m ready for—your fingers.”

Soothing her hands across Paige’s hips, Azzi nods, pressing a tender kiss to her cheek. “I know, baby,” she says—Paige has always needed a good amount of buildup before any actual intrusion. “Wasn’t gonna use my fingers.”

Paige blinks, thoughts obviously a little sluggish as it takes a moment for the words to register, but once she does, she nods eagerly. “Shit. Okay.”

With one last peck on the lips, Azzi’s fingers get back to work, and as she slides the jeans down her legs she goes down with them, dropping slowly to her knees. She helps Paige step out of the pants and then tosses them to the side, looping her arms around her thighs and urging her to widen her stance. She presses a few comforting kisses to Paige’s pelvic bone and across her hips, breathing in the familiar scent of her as her kisses stray lower. As she licks up the inside of a thigh, her eyes open, glancing at the girl’s boxers and the wet patch growing on them. Feeling quite proud of herself, she smirks, biting at her thigh and relishing in the way Paige hisses.

“Stop messin’ with me,” Paige breathes, bringing a hand to Azzi’s head and trying to move her closer to her cunt.

“Uh-uh,” Azzi says, using a hand of her own to move Paige’s firmly away. When she looks up at her, Paige looks wrecked, which does amazing things to Azzi’s ego considering she hasn’t even touched her yet. Loving the expression on Paige’s face—lips slightly parted, eyes fluttering, the picture of submission—she decides to try and coax more out of her. “No touching,” she adds, something Paige likes to do whenever she’s being particularly needy. When Paige starts to protest, she moves her hand to her clothed clit and rubs harshly, cutting her off. “You heard me, baby.”

Paige’s eyebrows furrow, either from pleasure or annoyance or, more likely, both. “Azzi, please—“

“Shh,” Azzi soothes, removing her thumb and licking a stripe up her boxers—the faintest taste of her already addictive. “Be patient.”

She expects more resistance—the few times they’ve switched roles like this, it takes at least an orgasm for Paige to take her commands. But today must be different—is different—and Paige dutifully shuts up, using her hands to brace herself against the counter as she tilts her head down to watch.

Pleased, Azzi removes her boxers, salivating at the pretty pink peeking out from between her legs, and it’s all she can do when she uses her thumbs to spread her open, groaning when she gets a good look at the familiar, dripping folds. “So pretty,” she can’t help but mumble, leaning forward to press a kiss against her, licking her lips to taste the arousal left there. Paige’s hips buck, and Azzi gives her a sharp slap to the thigh. Paige nearly whines, which is kinda new—they’ll have to experiment with it later. “What’d I say, hm?” she asks, unable to keep herself from pressing her tongue between her cunt lips and licking upward, eyes nearly rolling into the back of her head at the taste. “Be patient.”

“Fuck,” Paige gasps above her.

It takes every ounce of self-restraint in Azzi’s body to not just dive in and devour her like a woman starved. It’s been far too long since she went down on Paige, even before their two weeks of celibacy, and she wants nothing more than to push her tongue inside and draw out as much slick as she can. But she also knows all too well that Paige likes to be ate slow. So, slow it is, as she licks up around her folds, tongue dragging delicately over her clit.

Her eyes fall shut, focusing on how wet Paige is against her tongue, dipping just slightly into her hole where the taste is the strongest and reveling at how good it is.

When Paige makes a high-pitched noise in the back of her throat, Azzi looks up at her, watching her reaction as she gently sucks her clit into her mouth. Paige is leaning back against the counter, cunt pressed into Azzi’s face desperately, and it’s obvious she’s trying to keep still. But when Azzi’s tongue flicks against her clit as she sucks, Paige can’t help but gasp, hips bucking just slightly.

With painted nails, Azzi squeezes her thigh just enough to get her attention. When Paige looks down at her, she pulls off her clit with a wet noise and says, “Hold your shirt up, babe.”

It’s amazing how quickly Paige obeys, rucking her tank up to reveal her bare chest, nipples pink and hard. Azzi doesn’t even try to stop herself from reaching up to play with one of them as she dives back into her pussy.

Her clit is already puffy, sensitive to her every touch based off the way Paige moans when she flicks her tongue against it. She licks little shapes, taking note of which ones draw the most sound out of the older girl. It’s mostly for her own benefit when she traces the letters of her own name on her pussy, but Paige whines high-pitched and needy like she knows.

Azzi pulls away just enough to see that her clit is an angrier pink now, twitching almost imperceptibly, and she gives it a break, moving lower to suck around her hole, drinking the copious juices she’s teased out. When she presses her tongue inside, she finds much less resistance than last time, and her fingers itch to be inside her.

This time, when she pulls away, Paige whines again—the sound a mix of frustration and desperation—and Azzi soothes a hand up the inside of her thigh. Paige’s eyes are hooded now as they lock with Azzi’s, and Azzi smiles up at her. “Hey,” she mutters.

“Uh-huh,” Paige breathes, nearly panting at this point.

“Think you’re ready?” Azzi asks. Paige gives her a quizzical look and she holds up her right hand in explanation. “Wanna finger you.”

As if on their own accord, Paige’s hips jerk forward. When she says, “Yes,” it’s nothing more than a breathy little sigh, but it’s enough.

Nodding, her eyes go back to Paige’s cunt, gaze immediately going to her hole, clenching around nothing. She brings two fingers up and dips inside, then drags them through her pretty folds, making sure they’re plenty wet. And then, without another warning, she plunges into her pussy, moaning as she’s immediately swallowed by wet heat.

Paige’s reaction is visceral, hips pressing down to meet her halfway, hands falling to her head, previous no-touching rules forgotten. Azzi decides to let it go, though, as she watches Paige’s features contort beautifully, pleasure etched into every sound she makes.

Azzi pulls out, presses deeper. Does it again, and then stays inside long enough to push up against her walls.

It’s then that Paige starts talking.

“Oh, fuck, Azzi,” she breathes, still generally pretty quiet, something Azzi plans to have changed once she’s done with her. “You feel so—good, Az, fingers feel so fucking good.”

“Yeah?” Azzi coos. She loves it when Paige gets to the babbling stage of fucking, and is quick to egg her on. “You like that, huh?”

“Mm-hmm, missed it—needed it—I don’t—“ she chokes on her sentence when Azzi plunges particularly deep. “Oh, baby, right there. So fucking good at that.”

“I know,” she murmurs, pressing a gentle kiss to Paige’s clit. “You missed me, right? Missed this?”

“Of course I—“ she gasps, arches forward, “did.”

Suddenly, Azzi speeds up, filthy squelching sounds filling the room as her fingers move relentlessly inside Paige, palm coming to meet her clit again and again. Paige mewls, shifting a little, and Azzi uses her free hand to hoist her leg over her shoulder, allowing for a better angle.

“Oh!” Paige cries out, hands gripping Azzi’s head for leverage. “Oh, oh fuck. Baby, baby—mm, so deep—Azzi, more.”

“More?” Azzi asks, pulling her eyes away from where she’s wrecking Paige’s cunt to double-check. Paige usually can’t take more than two.

“Uh-huh,” Paige nods fervently.

Azzi doesn’t slow down, concern about hurting the other girl cutting through her own haze of pleasure. “You sure?”

“Yes,” Paige says, exasperation filling her voice.

“I just don’t want to hurt y—“

“Azzi, if you don’t give me another finger right now I swear to God—“

That’s all it takes for Azzi to pause her movements, pulling out enough to add another finger, and finding it surprisingly easy when she slides back in again. It’s not long before she builds up to her earlier rhythm, Paige’s hips moving against her hand, and then wet sounds are filling the room again, slick trailing down Azzi’s wrist.

Somewhere between Paige’s high-pitched moans and desperate little whines, she calls Azzi’s name. Azzi presses a kiss to her belly and says, “Yeah?”

“Can you—?” there’s hesitance in her tone that gives Azzi pause, movements slowing once again to look up at her.

“What’s up?” she prompts, gently as possibly through the arousal scraping rough against her vocal chords.

“Just, come here,” Paige finally says, hands moving from Azzi’s head to her shoulders, urging her up.

Azzi softens, mind becoming a little less cloudy at the request. Carefully, she eases Paige’s leg off her shoulder, then works up to her feet, keeping her fingers firmly inside Paige all the while. As soon as she’s up, Paige’s arms go around her shoulders, pulling her in, and Azzi smiles softly at the absolutely fucked-out, but undeniably lovesick, look on the other girl’s face.

Pressing a kiss to Paige’s cheek, she starts moving again, staying close so that Paige’s lips are right by her ear, hearing every sound she makes.

“I love you,” Paige mutters, forehead dropping onto Azzi’s shoulder.

Azzi presses a smile into Paige’s hairline, the gesture so innocent compared to the hand between her legs. “Love you, too, P.”

At that, Paige chokes on a moan, only just managing a feeble, “I’m close.”

Azzi nods, doubling her efforts. “Take your time, baby.”

“Mm-hmm,” Paige hums, but then she’s reiterating, “oh, fuck, Azzi, I’m really fuckin’ close.”

To be honest, Azzi is, too. It wouldn’t be the first time she’s come untouched, deriving pleasure from the simple act of giving it to Paige. But she holds back, forces herself to focus on the girl in her arms, running her free hand up and down Paige’s waist. “Yeah? About to come?”

Paige grasps her tighter, too fucked out to respond, but her following whines are answer enough.

“Give it to me, P,” she urges, knowing words are always the last thing Paige needs to tip her over the edge. “Wanna feel you coming all over my fingers, okay? Need you to show me how good I make you feel.”

Paige nods, and Azzi coos a, “Good, girl,” into her ear, and that’s all it takes for Paige’s hips to stutter, abs tightening as she spasms around Azzi’s fingers, crying out her name like it’s the only word she remembers. And at this point, it might be.

It takes awhile for her to come down, letting Azzi continue to thrust slowly for another minute or so before finally pushing her away. “Too much,” she breathes.

“Okay, baby,” Azzi says, pulling out slowly, bringing her hand up to Paige’s lips once she’s done. Paige doesn’t hesitate to take them into her mouth and suck, and it’s as she runs her tongue between her fingers that Azzi is reminded of just how magical her mouth is. Trying to sound casual, Azzi takes her hand back and says, “Hey, you all done?”

Paige is panting, hands going down to hold Azzi by the waist, looking as if she can barely hold herself up—but still, she shakes her head. “Nah, I can go for more.”

“Good,” Azzi says, stepping out of Paige’s grasp with a sly smile. Paige opens her mouth to protest but then Azzi swiftly pulls her shirt over her head, revealing her lavender lacy bra which leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination. Whatever Paige was about to say dies in her throat. “I may have planned for this when I was getting ready.”

Her pants are still on—Paige hasn’t even had the pleasure of seeing the garter yet—but already her jaw is practically on the floor. “Oh, shit.”

“Uh-huh.” Reaching out, she takes Paige’s hand in her own, leading her down the familiar path to Paige’s room. “You can thank Caroline, by the way. Was her idea.”

“For real?” Paige asks as they enter the bedroom. She plops down on the edge of the bed, watching as Azzi locks the door behind them. Her eyes rake not-so-subtly over her frame as she watches her. “I’ll send her a card and flowers for this shit.”

Azzi laughs breathily, leaning against the doorframe.

Paige raises her eyebrows and then reaches behind her head, pulling her own shirt off and discarding it on the floor. “Aight, I think I can feel my legs again. Lay down, mama.” She smiles deviously. “I’m bouta get you right.”

—————————————

Paige has never been a good liar—which is clear, considering twenty minutes later she has her head between Azzi’s thighs, making her legs shake as she eats her relentlessly.

She’s already put on the strap, and this is her way of getting Azzi ready—alternating between eating her slow and then absolutely devouring her, pulling away every time she gets close to the edge, overstimulating her without even making her come.

“Paige, please,” she basically cries out for the nth time since they started. “I need you.”

Paige only smirks from between her legs, quite cocky considering she just got fucked into oblivion less than an hour ago. “What was it you said to me earlier? About being patient?”

Azzi rolls her eyes (though it may be more from the way Paige sucks on her folds than how annoying she is). “Mm—shut up, you liked it.”

Paige sure as hell isn’t about to admit that. Of course, though, she had enjoyed it, had reveled in the pleasure she took from giving up control, letting herself be told what to do. But now it’s Azzi’s turn, and she needs to regain control of the situation-hence, the edging. “Do you want me to fuck you?” she asks, muffled in Azzi’s pussy. “Or not?”

Azzi can’t say no to that, obviously, but still sounds a little ashamed when she lets out a meek little, “Yes.”

Paige quirks an eyebrow up at her. “Yeah? You done bossing me around?”

Azzi doesn’t respond to that, lips forming into a cute little pout that’s also reminiscent of the face she makes when she gets bratty. Chuckling, Paige shakes her head, pressing a lingering kiss to her clit. “I’on think so, baby. You had your fun.” Slowly, she crawls her way back up the bed, Azzi scooching up with her. “Now you’re gonna tell me watchu want. And you’re gonna be polite about it.”

The demanding tone in Paige’s voice is usually enough to set Azzi right, but she must’ve gotten too big a head after her little stunt earlier because now she doesn’t say anything, just looks at Paige a little defiantly.

Admittedly, she looks adorable, and Paige wants to kiss that look off her face. But she can’t let Azzi think that this is how it’s gonna be now. “Alright, pretty girl. If that’s how you’re gonna be, I’ma get right back down there and make you come on my tongue. You won’t get no strap tonight.”

At that threat (which is baseless, considering Paige is absolutely going to strap Azzi down one way or another tonight) Azzi’s eyes widen, and she shakes her head. “Okay, okay, no, I’m sorry, I don’t—I need you inside, Paige. Please?”

Grinning, Paige leans down and kisses her forehead. “That’s what I thought.”

Taking the silicon in her hand, Paige balances on one elbow as she drags it slowly through Azzi’s folds, taking extra care to bump the head against her swollen clit. When Azzi gasps, her eyes flit to her face, checking that she’s okay. “You ready, baby girl?”

Azzi hesitates, looking down at the toy between them. “It’s bigger than the last one.”

It’s true—this is a new strap, one Azzi herself actually suggested, claiming she wanted to try something bigger. They still have their last one, just in case this doesn’t work out, and Paige is about to remind her of that when Azzi shakes her head to herself and says, “It’s okay, I’m good.”

“You sure?” Paige asks suspiciously. “Because if it’s too big…”

“Nope. I’m sure.”

“Babe, we don’t have to do anything you don’t wanna.”

Azzi’s eyes move down to follow the cock, watching as Paige moves it methodically through her soaking folds, and her eyes grow a little wider. “Yeah, okay, I’m definitely sure.”

Amused, Paige watches as the younger girl stares, incredibly hungrily, at the toy. “Okay, princess. You gotta tell me if it hurts, though, okay?”

“I will,” Azzi promises. With that, Paige guides the tip down to her entrance, pushing her hips forward and against the resistance she finds there, studying Azzi’s face carefully.

After a moment, the head slides in, and Azzi gasps, wincing a little. “You good?” Paige asks, taking her hand off the cock to stroke Azzi’s cheek.

“Good,” Azzi confirms, swallowing thickly as her eyes meet Paige’s. “Just—go slow.”

“‘Course,” Paige says, leaning forward to press their foreheads together as she pushes in further. “Sweet girl,” she murmurs, mostly to distract her, “y’look so pretty like this, mama.”

She’s about halfway in at this point and Azzi gasps again, breathing out a word that sounds enough like a stop for Paige to halt. “Too much?”

Azzi’s knees are bent, feet flat against the mattress as Paige lays between them, but now she readjusts, wrapping them around Paige’s back for better leverage. “Okay,” she says once she’s done, giving Paige a little nod. “I’m good, keep going.”

Not loving the bossy tone of her voice, Paige makes a face at her. “Manners, princess.”

Azzi frowns but still lets out a little, “Please,” anyway.

With that, Paige jerks her hips, burying the dildo inside to the hilt. Azzi cries out, surprised and left breathless from the sheer stretch of it. “Shit,” she breathes, “so much for going slow.”

“Mm,” Paige hums, ducking down to kiss into Azzi’s neck. “‘S what you get for being bratty.”

“Yeah, okay,” Azzi sighs—Paige can’t tell if she’s being sarcastic or actually conceding—and her head falls to the side, allowing more access to her neck, which Paige already marked up earlier.

“I good to move?” Paige asks.

“I think so,” Azzi replies, breath still caught from the sudden fullness.

Paige rocks her hips back, eyes flitting from Azzi’s face to her pussy, unable to keep from watching as she slides back in, eyes widening as she watches her cunt swallow it whole, basically sucking her in.

When she does it again, a little more smoothly this time, Azzi fists the bedsheets so hard her knuckles turn white. “Mmph—so deep, P.”

“Yeah? Feel good?” she asks lowly, rutting her hips flush into her when Azzi nods, building a steady rhythm. Her eyes land on Azzi’s face, contorted with pleasure, then rove down over her body—her neck, her tits, her stomach—until she lands back on the strap. The sight has her leaning down on her elbows, heart racing as she breathes deep to steady herself.

Picking up the pace just a little, Paige lifts herself up, watching as Azzi’s eyebrows furrow, her fists tight in the sheets. The bed is starting to squeak now, which just turns her on even more if that’s possible, and she nuzzles her nose into the crook of Azzi’s neck, muttering, “Hold on to me, baby, it’s okay.”

Azzi’s arms come up to loop around her neck before she’s even done with the sentence, and Paige smirks, pressing a few kisses into her cheek. “How’s it feel, hm? How deep am I?”

“So fucking deep,” Azzi breathes, and it shouldn’t come as a surprise how close she sounds considering Paige has been working her towards the edge for awhile now.

Paige brings a hand down between their bodies, using it to rub a few tight circles against Azzi’s clit, stopping when she starts whining. And Azzi makes a sound of protest but it’s quickly cut off by a moan when Paige’s hand moves instead to press against her lower abdomen, pushing down hard enough to feel the strap moving inside her.

“Baby, baby, please,” Azzi slurs, crying out in time with Paige’s thrusts, “right there—keep doing that, fuck.”

Who would Paige be to tell her no? There’s that whiny edge to her tone, all desperate and needy, a telltale sign she’s getting close. Pressing down a little harder on her stomach, Paige speeds up significantly, angling her hips up in an attempt to hit that spot deep inside.

Based off the high-pitched moan Azzi let’s put, it works.

“Shit, look at that,” Paige says when she looks between them again. The strap is soaking now, and so are the bedsheets, a mix of Paige and Azzi’s arousal leaking down onto them. Angling her hand down, Paige uses her fingers to spread her lips open, groaning as she gets a better view of Azzi’s cunt swallowing the entire dick. “Taking it so good, mama. Fuck, that pussy crying for my dick, huh?”

“Paige, fuck, yes,” Azzi gasps, clawing almost desperately at Paige’s shoulders.

“Close?” Paige asks, trying to gauge where she’s at based off the way her legs are beginning to shake, noises becoming less breathy, more insistent.

Azzi nods, maybe all she can manage at this point, and Paige rocks forward deep, pleased with the way Azzi’s mouth falls open, tits bouncing with each thrust.

They’re silent for a few moments, nothing but the sound of the bedframe fighting for its life and Azzi’s pussy squelching around her cock filling the room. “Hear that?” she asks, using her fingers to rub harshly against her clit, only adding to the filthy sounds in the room. “Best pussy in the world, baby. And it’s mine, huh?”

Azzi only manages a pathetic “uh-huh”, and that’s just not good enough for Paige. “Nah, you gotta tell me, princess. Tell me whose pussy this is and I’ll let you come, okay?”

It takes Azzi a moment, probably trying to gather her scattered thoughts, before she whines out a needy little, “Yours, fuck, my pussy’s all fucking yours.”

Nodding, Paige presses a kiss to Azzi’s parted lips. “That’s right, mama. You wanna come?”

Tears are gathering at the corners of Azzi’s eyes when she nods, and it only spurs Paige on further. “Go ahead, pretty girl. Come all fuckin’ over my dick. Lemme feel it, baby.”

And that’s all Azzi needs, her back arching off the bed, moaning all high-pitched as she comes, pussy clenching around the dildo, nails scratching down Paige’s back, leaving her shuddering. She doesn’t stop, though, rolling her hips deep into Azzi’s through every tremor, only stilling when Azzi shakes her head, tapping against Paige’s hip.

She gives her a moment to catch her breath before saying, “Can I pull out?”

“Uh-huh,” Azzi sighs, throwing an arm across her face as Paige slowly eases out of her. She manages to get the strap off and tosses it onto the floor, a problem for future them to deal with, before laying next to Azzi, pulling her into her chest. She chuckles at Azzi’s blissed-out expression, and Azzi’s eyes open at the sound, peering at her a little sleepily.

“You laughing?” she asks, no real accusation in her tone.

“At you? Never,” Paige jokes. Azzi slaps her chest, collapsing back onto it, sighing as she wraps a leg around Paige’s waist. She’s not the touchiest person in general, and Paige finds it endearing how snuggly she gets after sex.

Her hands begin to run up and down Azzi’s bare back, and when she hears Azzi sigh, she’s quick to speak, trying to catch the younger girl before she inevitably falls asleep. “Hey,” she says, “you okay?”

“Mm,” Azzi hums.

“Was it good?” Paige asks, even though she already knows the answer.

“Very,” Azzi replies, cuddling closer into Paige’s neck. “Missed you.”

“Two weeks is too long,” Paige agrees. Azzi chuckles softly, and Paige angles her head to look at her, only to find that her eyes are closed and her lips are slightly parted.

“Why are you tryna sleep,” Paige very nearly whines.

Azzi lifts her head lazily, resting her chin on Paige’s chest to raise an eyebrow at her. “Because you just fucked the shit outta me. I’m tired.”

“I did, didn’t I?” Paige sighs dreamily.

Rolling her eyes, Azzi lays her head back down, settling back into her. “Lemme sleep, okay? I need some energy for the morning sex tomorrow.”

“F’real?” Paige can’t keep the excitement out of her tone at this.

Azzi shrugs coyly, yawns. “If you’re good.”

Internally, Paige vows to be the absolute best. Even if it means no yapping.

Her silence only lasts a few moments but, surprisingly, it’s Azzi who speaks. “And, babe?”

“Yeah?”

“You’d better ask me to be your girlfriend tomorrow.”

(Paige does, in fact, ask Azzi to be her girlfriend ‘again’, as she puts it. Azzi, of course, says yes.)

(Oh, also, Caroline does receive a thank you letter and a bouquet of flowers in the mail a few days later. Confused, she opens the letter, to find it reads, “Thx for helping azzi pick that fit for our date. you’re a g mama carol. p.s. the sex was ridiculously good.” Caroline sends a photo of it to Azzi, wondering why she needed to know about the sex. Azzi replies with a shrugging emoji and a, “She’s not lying though”.)

[ggidolsmuts]

TTYL, Unless? - Loossemble Hyunjin (ft. ARTMS Heejin)

After you got together with Heejin and Hyunjin, the world conspired to split the three of you apart, making them end up in different groups rather than being in one group like before. The three of you managed, but meeting up became both easier and harder—it was harder to meet both of them together, because their schedules never seemed to overlap, and yet it was easier in a way to meet each of them more often, since their schedules never seemed to overlap. If Heejin was busy touring, Hyunjin would come looking to go on dates. If Hyunjin was busy with her comeback, Heejin would be texting you to come out.

"Yah, what are you thinking about?" Hyunjin pokes you out of your daze. For now it is Heejin's turn to tour, and Hyunjin's resting, the two of you out and about on a quiet cafe date.

"Thinking about you!" You hold her hand a little tighter—you were in public, so it wouldn't do to draw more attention.

"Not Heejin?"

"When did my girlfriend become the jealous type?"

"Did you forget that Heejin is also your girlfriend?" She digs a nail into your palm, making you hiss at the sting. "But say it again."

"Say what?"

"That I'm your girlfriend." She's blushing, smiling to herself at your words. You pull Hyunjin towards you, hugging her in the middle of the street. "What are you doing!"

"You are my girlfriend, I don't care if people find out."

"Crazy!" But she stays in your embrace. "Let's head back home."

"Is everything okay though? You were never this... worried? Or wary? About Heejin?" The two of you stop by at Hyunjin's favorite bakery.

"No it's just after all that happened... we're spending a lot of time with you, but always separately. I'm worried that you will, you know, compare us, have a preference for one of us."

"Would you believe me if I say I don't?"

"Would Heejin believe you?" You pause for a moment, and Hyunjin takes the chance to sneak an extra pastry on to the tray.

"Yes."

"Don't lie, I know that Heejin is competitive, and you know it too." She grabs another pastry as your punishment for lying—Hyunjin's right, Heejin would definitely want to "win", regardless of the inaneness of the competition.

"Where is this coming from? It's not like we never hung out separately before we all agreed to be together." You sigh and pay for all the pastries.

"Yeah but that's before—" Hyunjin looks around and leans in. "That's before we started doing all of this, unless you were already comparing our bodies before you saw us naked?"

"Of course not!"

"So once you have, don't you have, you know, preferences? And one of us will be closer to your preferences? If you say we have the same figure I will stuff this bread straight down your throat." Hyunjin threatens, and you quickly shut your open mouth.

"I like you both, in different ways, no one is better than the other. How did you define your diet again?"

"What? Oh! I have a seafood diet, I see food, I eat food." Hyunjin cackles at her own bad joke.

"I'm just like that with you. When I see you, I want you." You add with feigned suaveness, sneaking a hand under the table to grab Hyunjin's thigh.

"Yah you are crazy! Eat your bread!" Hyunjin blushes and pushes you off, but you know she likes it.

"Tch, you're the one who kept talking about figures and having preferences."

"Hmph!"

"I need another coffee for these, do you want one?"

"Sure, thank you!" You shake your head as Hyunjin's happy once more, a pastry in each hand and chomping away. "Then we can go home!" She adds, cheeks puffing with bread.

You're lying on the sofa with Hyunjin, lazing the afternoon away watching a movie, when your phone rings.

"Hmm? Oh it's Heejin. Hey Heejin!"

"Oh oppa, is now a good time?"

"Yeah I'm just here with Hyunjin, what's up?"

"Oh umm, I'll just talk to you later then, have a good time with Hyunjin!" The phone is taken out of your hands and is placed on speakerphone.

"Yah, Jeon Heejin. You were going to do phone sex with oppa weren't you?"

"What?" "Yah Kim Hyunjin! How can you just say that?!"

"We talked about it, when we miss you while on tour. She suggested it, right Heejin?"

"Yes."

"I umm, I see." Your throat is suddenly dry. The phone is silent, but Hyunjin does the prodding.

"Do it."

"Really? Do it?" Heejin asks, you can tell she's considering it.

"I want to listen. We've already had sex together, the three of us, phone sex is nothing." Hyunjin kisses you, a hand slipping under your t-shirt. "Ask her what she's wearing."

"W-What are you wearing right now Heejin?"

"Oh, are you sure— I'm wearing a lace top, and umm, some shorts."

"Are the shorts as tight as the ones you wore on stage?" you blurt out, your mind already going back to when you first saw those fancams.  "I swear I could see where I should be in those photos." Hyunjin nods her approval, bringing up the pictures on her phone. This is weird but exciting.

"You saw those? Yeah they were really tight, I had to wear something looser the next night."

"Good, wouldn't want anyone else to see."

"Yes, just for you to see." Heejin's voice deepens, she's getting into it too. "What are you wearing oppa? Are your shorts getting tight too?"

"Yeah. I'll help oppa with it though," Hyunjin answers for you. "Let me take off his t-shirt first." She pushes you down on the sofa, putting the phone by your head, making sure Heejin can hear her kissing you sloppily.

"You should take off your top too Heejin," you mumble, pushing your hands beneath Hyunjin's. "Are you wearing underwear?" you ask as you play with Hyunjin over her bra.

"No..."

"So naughty, I wish I could see you topless."

"It's okay, just make Hyunjin take her top off." Hyunjin listens, pulling off her t-shirt and undoing her bra.

"She has now. Should I play with her tits?"

"Yes, I am too," Heejin sighs.

"Tell me what you're doing."

"I'm squeezing them, rubbing my nipples, they're, mm, pretty stiff." Hyunjin lets you sit up and do the same to her, her soft gasps merging with Heejin's over the speaker. "It feels good..."

"It does." Hyunjin agrees. "He's using his teeth, pulling on it a little, ah!"

"How hard is he?" You let out a deep breath as Hyunjin reaches down between your legs.

"Very. What do you want to do?" Hyunjin's breathing deeply too, her voice husky as she asks Heejin.

"I want to stroke him, feel how hard he is in my hands."

"She's stroking me, touch yourself Heejin." You hear the soft "ah" as the image of Heejin slipping her hand beneath her shorts surfaces in your mind. 

"H-How would you touch me oppa?" You quickly grab the phone and pull Hyunjin to the bedroom—with more room to maneuver you can touch her as she strokes you.

"Me? I would start slow, rub you over your panties, make sure you are soaking wet before I do anything else." You gently press between Hyunjin's legs—she's already sticky. Hastily she pushes her shorts off to give you better access.

"Oh yes... What then? Would you take off my panties?" Heejin sighs.

"Not yet." You say sharply, making sure that Heejin listens to you. "I'd tease you further, trace your shape over it, like those tight shorts you wore." Hyunjin whines, a hand on your arm, trying to get you to do more.

"Ah, I won't wear it again. Please?" Hyunjin strokes you faster, more firmly as Heejin begs, working in tandem once more.

"Good, take your panties off."

"Only if you take your underwear off." Soon you, Hyunjin, and Heejin are equally naked.

"Should I use one finger or two?" you ask.

"T-Two." 

"Ah!" "Mmm!" You hear Heejin's moan in one ear, and Hyunjin's in the other as you slip two fingers into her wet heat.

"So tight, so wet Heejin, I'm going to finger you."

"Yes! Yes do it!" You push deep into Hyunjin, feeling her tense and clench around your digits. You mouth silently to Hyunjin, asking her to tell Heejin what she's feeling.

"So deep in me already, he knows what I like, what we like Heejin. G-Go faster!" You start moving your hand more rapidly, feeling your fingers get wetter. The two of you can hear more of Heejin's moans now, louder and more frequent.

"Dont forget to touch your clit." You make sure your bump against Hyunjin's, and she has to bite back a cry when you do so. There's no muffling on Heejin's end, and her squeal comes through loud and clear.

"Yes oppa! Do more!" To her credit Hyunjin stays quiet, allowing Heejin to focus on herself and you. You feel her breaking down though, her hand on your cock forgetting to stroke you, an arm over her mouth to muffle herself. The phone sex is definitely turning her on—she's bucking into your hand, flat tummy flexing and tits jiggling slight as she twitches on the bed. You haven't seen Hyunjin quite like this in a while, and that's turning you on, now you want to finish her off properly.

"I'm curling my fingers in you," you utter into the phone, but you're doing it to Hyunjin, and the reaction is immediate.

"Ah!" A sharp yelp that Hyunjin can't help, and on the other end of the phone, an instant reaction from Heejin.

"Yes! Oh, I'm cumming, I'm cumming oppa!"

"Cum for me!" You plunge your fingers even faster into Hyunjin, and she's biting into a pillow, thighs crushing your hand. You watch Hyunjin and listen to Heejin, their orgasms seeming to blend together into something even hotter. Heejin's babbling, moaning incoherently while your fingers get crushed by Hyunjin's pussy—they seem to be in rhythm, each deep and harsh breath from Heejin in time with Hyunjin's contractions and small waves of slick.

"Oh... that was great oppa." Heejin sighs, and Hyunjin has finally released her bite on the pillow, both of them coming down from strong orgasms. "I really needed that."

"Good, I'm happy." You're too horny to beat around the bush. "I'm going to fuck Hyunjin now, so I'll talk to you later—"

"Wait, can I listen?"

"You want to listen?"

"Yeah, you don't have to talk to me, I just want to, er, hear you finish."

"I'm not going to be quiet," Hyunjin speaks up. "You know what he does to me."

"Yeah I— Fuck I'm already imagining it happening to me. Just pretend I'm not here." You hear the rustle of sheets, and the tiniest of gasp as Heejin tries and fails to keep quiet. You don't care though, as Hyunjin's stroking you again, making you aware of just how hard you are.

"Lay on your front." You grab the phone and place it by Hyunjin's head before getting on top of her prone form. "You know what he does to me huh? What else have you and Heejin said about me?" You nuzzle her neck, hearing her gasp as you push your head, then your tip, and then your shaft, into her.

"Hnngh! Sensitve, sensitive!" Hyunjin yields to you, albeit a little too fast. "Don't move!"

"Sensitive? You mean your song?" You earn a light smack for that.

"Of course not, I mean I'm sensitive, because I just came!"

"And I haven't!" Hyunjin groans. "But I'll give you a short break, what have you and Heejin been talking about?"

"What you like, what we like, what you do that we like, mmm!" You bottom out in her, and she's gripping you tightly.

"And what do you like Hyunjin?" True to your word it is a short break, and you can't help but begin moving, for now settling for rocking back and forth in her. "Better answer fast before I start fucking you faster."

"I like it when you kiss my neck, yes right there!" You leave a dark red mark over her favorite spot. "I like it when you touch me all over, show me that you love my body." 

"Of course I do." You squeeze everything you love about Hyunjin—her neck, her shoulders, her tits, her midriff, her hips. You squeeze her thighs with yours, making sure she's even tighter around you.

"Fuck, I love how tight you are, Hyunjin!" You put more force into your thrusts, slamming down on her prone form, her butt and thighs rippling when you do so. On instinct Hyunjin's raising her hips slightly, letting you press them back down on the bed, letting gravity get you even deeper into her.

"Y-You're so big, oh god, mmm, mm, mm! Hnngh Heejin he's doing it again!" 

"What?" You slow down again, distracted by how different she sounds. "Am I hurting you?"

"No, don't stop, just nngh, keep doing that!" Hyunjin's groaning, or perhaps grunting is the more accurate description, with every thrust, every time you put all your weight into her hips.

"Doing what?" You want answers, but with the way you continue to fuck her Hyunjin's quickly becoming incapable of responding.

"You're pushing against her womb, her umm, cervix," Heejin answers for Hyunjin. "When you go really deep you sometimes touch mine too—" Heejin cuts herself off with a sigh—she's touching herself again.

"Is that good?" Hyunjin freezes up when you nudge against it again, and you force yourself to slow down. "Please tell me if I should stop."

"No, it's really good, really really good, just not too hard." You cup her chin, tilting her head back and off the bed. It must feel amazing for Hyunjin, because she's gurgling when you sink deep into her again, nudging against the little resistance that's driving her mad. "Right— Uh! There!"

"What about... here?" You adjust your angle slightly, rubbing against her more familiar g-spot. Hyunjin coos, clearly loving it too. But you don't even have to ask when you do both on the same thrust, sliding your head against her g-spot before you drive your hips forward, nudging the entrance to her womb firmly.

"Oh my god, keep doing that, keep doing that!" The words rush out of Hyunjin, and her legs are kicking beneath you. "I love it!"

"What do you love about it?" You've pushed her legs apart slightly, giving yourself more room to plant your knees and really fuck her. You kiss the left side of her neck, then the right—you're going to leave a necklace of hickeys across her skin.

"That you're hnngh— filling me completely, stuffing me so full, ah!"

"Like your favorite pastries? Full of filling?"

"Yes, the best ones, where it's all meat, there's no empty space, and when I try to squeeze you... Fuck you're so hard in me!" Hyunjin's whimpering, and her attempted constrictions around you just drive you to fuck her harder. Your hips bounce off hers, the sound of skin-on-skin action extra satisfying as Hyunjin tries to push back against you, willing you to shove yourself all the way into her. Each successive thrust gets faster and stronger—Hyunjin's creaming around you, streaks of white coating your shaft as she's building to her own massive orgasm. She's as hot as a freshly toasted loaf of bread, warm and satisfying as you plant another kiss on the back of her neck. You've never seen Hyunjin lose it quite like this, the rapid and soft grunts telling you just how fucked to the limit she is, and soon the desire to fill her with your own cream becomes too much.

"Fuck, going to cum!" you growl, hugging her possessively, arm around her neck.

"Do it! Do it in me!" You pull Hyunjin off the bed as your hips slam down one final time, forcing her into an impressive arch as you bottom out and then pump out your load straight into her. Hyunjin cums in the very next instant, the shotgun blast of warmth right against her womb sending her eyes rolling into her head, her breath stopping as she climaxes powerfully beneath you. Everything about her short circuits and stops working; everything except her pussy, squeezing you like a piping bag, getting all the baby batter she can get out of you. After watching and listening to Hyunjin and Heejin get off earlier, your own orgasm is even stronger and longer, and you collapse on top of her, holding Hyunjin down as you rut into her, delivering, pumping, squeezing, oozing, everything you have into her.

Over the phone you hear Heejin, or rather, you hear Heejin's pussy, sopping wet and squelching as her hand is hard at work getting herself off, and with a deep-chested cry you hear her cum shortly after. You kiss Hyunjin lovingly, keeping yourself in her until you hear the rustle of Heejin picking up the phone again.

"Thanks oppa, sorry if that was too loud at the end."

"No, we finished just before you."

"Yeah, he came a lot in me."

"You two don't hide anything do you?"

"S-Show me."

"Fine, you too then." You're dumbfounded as Hyunjin grabs her phone and points it between her legs, but you see that she's captured your state as well—There's bits of Hyunjin's cream all over your cock and crotch, and right next to your cock, where there should've been the pink slit of Hyunjin's pussy, all that's seen in the photo is a strip of white, your cum pouring out of her like an overfilled bun.

"You're going to send that to her?"

"Of course, she asked for it," Hyunjin says, like it's the most logical answer ever.

"Heejin delete it after you see it, what if you lose your phone on tour?"

"I will, we're careful about that. Sending you the pic Hyunjin." Her phone dings, and you're treated to the sight of Heejin laying back on her pillows, looking utterly satisfied as she spreads her pussy lips for you, droplets of slick splattered between her legs.

"I'm going to delete it once oppa's done looking!" Hyunjin teases.

"Wait I—" Her eyes twinkle with mischief—she got you. "Fine, delete it, that's the smart thing to do."

"Not like you won't get to see Heejin like that when she comes back."

"Yeah, I can't wait for you to do that to me, it sounded really hot."

"It is! It's like he was fucking my—" You snatch the phone from Hyunjin before it gets any more bawdy.

"Alright I am not listening to you two talk about me. You should go sleep."

"Mmmhmm now I'm all drained. Thanks oppa, I'll talk to you later. Bye Hyunjin!"

"Yup bye!" Finally alone again Hyunjin cuddles against you, not caring about the load draining out of her. "That was really hot. I am totally going to call you while you're with Heejin."

"What? Why?"

"So we can have phone sex threesome, three phone sex? Phonesome? It's only fair that I get to listen in."

"And how would you know when I'm with Heejin? She just happened to call at the right time."

"I'll get Heejin to tell me, she has to, we have to have the same experiences. You need to do her in the same position, and then tell us who felt better."

"Sometimes I can't tell if you two are competing or cooperating."

"Yes."

Some weeks later, you're in bed with a half-naked Heejin, hands ready to slip off her panties.

"Wait." She picks up her phone and quickly calls someone. "Hyunjin, we're doing it."

"Oh thanks, hi oppa!" Hyunjin's voice comes through the phone. 

"Are you serious?"

"Yes yes."

"We really need to have a talk about just how much we're sharing."

"TTYL, FHRN!"

"What are you even saying?"

"Talk to you later, fuck Heejin right now!" You turn to find Heejin already naked and prone on the bed.

Fine, you guess you'll do as Hyunjin says.

"Hnngh!"

A/N: Wanted to do a "TTYL" related story, but never got around to it until after Loossemble :( Kinda wanted to do the other scene from Heejin's perspective, but eh it would've been too samey, I leave it to your imagination lol. Thanks for reading! Have one more Hyunjin pic

[rafesplaymate]

SCREAMS glamourmodel out partying with rafe🤭🤭

YES. (the way i have these pics on one of my pinterest boards)

Lights, Camera, Action!

Rafe Cameron x Glamourmodel!Reader

❀⋆.ೃ࿔ navigation. ❀⋆.ೃ࿔ masterlist.

warnings: smut. Exhbitionism (like fr). degradation. manhandling. p in v. dom / sub dynamics. pervs all around.

a/n: like this is legit exhibitionism and power dynamics

｡𖦹°‧°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

That’s definitely glamourmodel!reader and Rafe at one of his functions at Tannyhill. Let me elaborate…

“Keep showing your panties and shit, get your ass down!” He’d growl, coke drip irritating his sinuses and throat along with the reverb in his voice from reprimanding her. He knew that getting with a famous model meant the amount of attention that comes along with her would be excessive —but the way everyone around them is ogling her sweet self in her pretty, pink polka dotted dress makes him want to gouge their eyes out.

“Mhmm.. Rafey”, she’d whine with a pout on her full lips, makeup a mess and blowout falling from the damp humidity of the summer night and bodies surrounding them. Her cute pussy barely covered by her g-string as she dances on the outside-lounge table in their area. It’s one of her more modest dresses but the way she lets it lift up twist with her movements with no care for her assets showing is making Rafe’s possessiveness rear its ugly-head. Although she loved when he got like this.

“Ugh! Leave her alone, can’t even let her have fun. You’re such a loser!” Mocked Sarah who was dancing right along with her. The two girls fueled with liquid courage. In an equally skimpy outfit as she dances right along with her best friend. Both of them the stars of the party, always egging each other on to be as care free as they can be. It irks Rafe how much Sarah enables his girl but she quite frankly doesn’t give a fuck —y/n is way too sexy not to show herself off to the fullest extent. In fact they’d even considered getting Sarah into modeling with her too.

“Shut your bitch ass up, no one was talking to you,” Rafe bit back, reaching for his girl by the waist and tugging her down while she whined and moaned about how he’s ‘no fun.’ “Rafey —stop! Ugh, let me live!” She’d cry to him, pushing against him as he successfully manhandled her to his whim. Feeling him tug up the low cut of her dress while he pulled the ridden up skirt to cover her ass. “Shut up. Sick of you bouncing these fake tits around with your nipples showin’ and shit. Keep that shit for the magazines and shoots.” He’d grab her by the face, making her dazed eyes look into his while he scolded her. His stupid bunny, oh how he loves her.

If it weren’t for the line she’d taken earlier and the vodka she pounded back she doesn’t think she’d mind so much about her man being so controlling. She loves how possessive he is, makes her pussy wet when he gets so protective over her. But right now.. she wants to pick at his nerves and make him even angrier. She loves being a tease, especially with him.

“Thought you liked my tits, Hef paid a pretty penny for them.” She’d say with a mocking pout, bringing her french-tipped hands to rub her plump chest as she stared at him. “Don’t know why you’re so bothered, this is more than what I use to wear at the mansion parties.” She’d wrap her arms around his neck, pressing her chest to his while Rafe would pull her even closer, big hands trailing down her cinched waist to her perky ass —squeezing the globes in his palm as he smirked down at her.

“Fuck yeah, y’know I love ‘em. But they belong to me now —that old bastard can suck my fat dick.” He’d whisper with mocking; trailing his lips down her neck as he teased her wetness with the tips of his fingers. “What you’re talking about, hm? What did my little playmate get up to without me around?” His words are muffled by his trail of kisses down her neck. Bringing one hand to grope her chest while her hard nipples stabbed against his palm -encouraging her to continue with a hum. “Oh… you know.” She’d whisper in a daze from his touch. Letting him domineer her presence with his want and need for her.

“Walked around that place more than once with nothing but a pair of heels, and bunny ears on my head.” She’d moan out, head tilting back as she allowed him to mark her. His previous love-bites of ownership fading, and he’s determined to constantly leave them there so everyone around this damned island knows she’s taken for. His girl, his bunny, his playmate. His.

It takes him a minute to register her words; too entranced by her sweet-smelling perfume and smooth skin. Too entranced by her in general and the fact that he scored a fucking playmate! But when, what she said finally locked in his drug and lust infused, fuzzy brain —did his motions stop and his body stiffen. Pulling his head back quickly as his hand groping at her chest wrapped around her neck and squeezed the sides. Forcing her fluttering eyes to shoot open and look into his demeaning stare. His jaw ticked and lips pursed in displeasure. Bingo!

“The fuck, did you just say?” He’d accuse, his grip tightening on her throat. They’re lucky the other party-goers around them are too fucked up and preoccupied by other things. Sarah’s attention now focused on throwing her ass back to the thumping music while Top’ showers her in bills dramatically and Kelce talks up a girl they invited into their area. “You were what? Walking around with -with your pussy out for the whole world to see, huh? Fucking attention-whore.” He’d growl, tightening his grip and watching as her manicured hand came to scratch at his wrist. The playboy necklace against her chest taunting him with her reality before him.

“Yeah…” she’d choke out, her glossed lips twisting in a devious smirk. Her leg coming to wrap around his as she presses herself against him. Free hand coming down to run over the bulge in his khakis between their bodies as she lowers her eyes seductively. “Let some rockstars, and actors lick into my pussy with a crowd watching too.” She’d finalize. Watching as the heat in his eyes built up into an uncontrollable flame of anger, jealousy and lust. She wants to play games, fine —they can play.

Rafe loosens his hand on her throat, pushing her against one of the couches around them. Watching as she bounced on it with her legs open and the skirt of her dress flaring up. Her lace g-string and bottom of her tummy showing as she raised her arms above her head. Relaxing into the cushions with a triumphant smirk playing on her lips and eyes holding his —while she spreads her legs further. Rafe would just give her a daring smirk before he’d grab her by her waist, quickly turning her onto her knees with her upper half over the edge of the couch. Facing the patrons around them who were all in their own universe —well that was until…

Rip!

The sound of her thin dress getting ripped apart from the back as Rage pressed his bulge into her ass. Tearing the fabric from her body with a jagged line all the way up to the top. The flimsy thing falling open quickly and only hanging on by the straps from her arms. Pretty tits and body now on display as Rafe landed a firm smack on her bare ass, ripping her flimsy string of an underwear with no problem. The scene now catching attention from everyone around them as they started paying attention to what’s unfolding in front of them. Men and women alike ogling the model as she mewled and whined from Rafe’s manhandling. His large frame towering over her bent body on the couch —sexy lips twisted in a sultry purse as she looked over at him from her shoulder with pure lust in her eyes.

“Rafe what are you— Shut up.” Rafe would quickly shut up Sarah who was now watching the even unfold —trying to look away but the sight of her best friend looking like a wet dream even got her fantasizing (she won’t admit it yet, that she thinks of her sometimes late at night.) Topper lowering his unnecessary sunglasses as he let out a ‘yo!’ from the sight of his favorite playmate bent over naked in front of him. Kelce’s attention on the girl he was talking to now long gone as he took in the sight as well. Everyone around them watching Rafe dominate his girl with no care in the world except showing who she belonged too.

He’d wrap her hair around his wrist, tugging harshly and forcing her body to arch back and pull up with a harsh gasp falling from her lips. Her naked frame now completely on display for everyone around them —ripping the straps of her dress down her arms and letting it fall to her knees completely on the couch. People’s phones out and circling around them as their substance-induced perceptions readied for the show that was clearly about to start. Rafe’s body filling with immense satisfaction at his brazen display of ownership and the fact that she was allowing it. His little exhibitionist.

“See that, shit? How everyone’s looking at you, you love it huh? Love being a show-off, don’t you?” He’d whisper harshly against her ear, his body slightly bent over to do so —hand tightening his grip on her hair as her neck strained from the movement. Looking at the crowd with furrowed brows, sultry eyes and her lips in a sexy ‘o.’ Her body gleaming under the full moon and stars from the body glitter and oil she rubbed all over herself. Only thing on her body being her ‘Playmate of the Year’ bunny neckless and her cute white, stiletto-mules. Left ankle decorated with a pretty white-gold chain and dangly ‘R’ that Rafe had gotten her. The epitome of a sex goddess and showing off why she’s been ‘POTY’ so many times. Rafe was a lucky man that was forsure.

“Love it, love it so much daddy.” She’d whine sensually, moving her arms to hold onto the head of the couch in front of her; helping hold herself up so she can arch her ass higher against the bulge in his pants. Whining her hips as she left a wet mark against the khaki material. Rafe’s dick throbbing painfully and his mind ready to do something about it. Right here, right now. In front of everyone. Not giving a single fuck how scandalous this might be or how likely it is to end up on social media. She lives for that shit, he knows it. And he’d loved to be the lucky bastard who’s known for banging a playmate with a crowd. Her earlier words replaying in his head.

“Those motherfuckers may have licked into this sweet pussy,” he’d start, slightly moving his hips from her and bringing his free hand to fumble with his button and zipper. Preparing to free his cock as Sarah hauled Topper away from the scene; him complaining that he ‘wants to see the show’ as he keeps tilting his head back to look at the entertainment furthering from his vision from the tugging on his arm. Kelce and his girl watching the scene intently with pure curiosity and excitement.

“But y’know what daddy’s gon’ do right now, princess?” He finally freed his cock from the confinement of his shorts; the appendage painfully hard and leaking precum as he rubbed it up and down her soaking pussy. Prepared to complete his promise on pounding her in front of the crowd, murmurs of anticipation surrounding. The flashes from phones lighting them up as the music lowered slightly from the speakers.

Showtime!

“M’gonna fuck you right here, show everyone of these assholes how this shit right here,” He slipped the tip in slightly, her mouth dropping open in a long drawn whine as his head breached her entrance, “is mine.” The sting satisfying and her favorite feeling in the world. Not thinking anything but thoughts of his dick and needing to feel it spear her and ravage her insides. Her mean man, she loved when he got like this. Satisfied her efforts worked. More than ready to make him proud and show everyone how pretty she is when she gets fucked.

“Fuck —yeah..sloppy little pussy just takin’ me right in. Love this shit, baby.” He’d groan when his hips finally meet her ass, her eyes rolling back into her head as she begins circling her hips and bouncing slightly against him. Men and women alike around her giving soft words of encouragement and pushing her to give a good show. Rafe’s hand gripping the head of the couch right next to hers while the grip in her hair tightened even more. His lips still against her ear as he grinded deeply into her and felt her arousal begin dripping down his balls and wetting the cushion beneath them. Stupid slut, she’ll get what’s coming to her. With an almost evil smirk he stared into one of the cameras in front of them, head next to hers as he whispered in her ear once more…

“Smile for the cameras, little star. And be good for me, hm? Want this shit to get back to Hef.”

｡𖦹°‧°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

a/n: i need some water. STAT! ugh! if you made it this far without getting embarrassed i hope you enjoy! :)

[snowluvvie]

₊˚⊹ ♡ . LET’S GO TO VEGAS.

₊˚⊹ ♡ . MINORS DNI 18+ | word count — 1.9k | warnings — fem!reader, p in v, unprotected sex, established relationship, fingering (f receiving), creampie, biting, possessiveness

“Let’s—go—to—fucking—Vegas.”

Rafe’s voice was breathy, each word punctuated with a rough kiss, his teeth nipped at you harshly and his tongue had very little regard for the barrier of your lips, exploring your mouth like he was entitled to every inch of it.

He was.

His hands roamed your body aggressively, desperately, hands digging into your waist and your hips and reaching around to grip your ass in a way that forced a nervous giggle out of you, straight into his mouth, and he swallowed it along with every other cute noise you made.

“You’d look—so—fucking cute—in white.” His mouth moved to the corner of your lips, to your jaw, where he mouthed against the bone and sunk his teeth into your skin hard. You yelped, your fingers tugging at his hair, and he let out the smallest groan into your skin before soothing the quickly reddening mark with a drag of his tongue.

When Rafe got like this, you didn’t even have to participate half the time, all he needed was to claim you, to remind himself of how truly his you were. Without you even saying anything, he could ramble on and on and make himself rock hard just talking about the two of you. Like right now, when he was babbling about getting married in Vegas, and you could see the way his cock strained against his slacks. Painfully so, it looked like.

His hands dragged around your ass, kneading your skin and tugging on your panties. He pulled them taut so they rubbed against your clit suddenly, which was swollen from how bad you needed him, though of course you were letting him take his fill of everything else before he fucked you. He grinned proudly at the way your chest heaved, your eyebrows furrowing with frustration and discomfort as he basically gave you a wedgie for his own enjoyment—though of course, your half-lidded eyes and blown-out pupils told him everything he needed to know about how you were really feeling.

His shirt had been off for a while—as a matter of fact, you weren’t entirely sure if he’d showed up in one. The end result was the same, though. Your fingernails scrabbled lightly against his bare chest for purchase, his tanned muscles tensing under your touch, and you kept your eyes on him. Waiting, patiently, like you were supposed to.

That seemed to send him over the edge, eyes narrowing as he yanked your panties down, the lilac lace flashing against your thighs for only half a second before they were discarded on the floor. His hand was on you immediately, mouth finding yours again, and he teased your entrance with his fingers while he rubbed the flat of his palm tactlessly against your clit. His mouth was sloppy as he kissed you, his breath hot, and you were already whining and bucking your hips against him with every flick of his tongue against yours and rough press of his hand against your pussy.

“You’re my girl, right? Just mine, always.” He growled into your mouth.

This time you answered, nodding weakly, “yes, nghh, always.”

“Always what?”

Rafe should’ve known better than to keep trying to get coherent answers out of you when he was teasing your hole like this, fingers dipping halfway in, just enough to soak his hand, before he tugged them back out again. It provided barely any relief, only stoked the flames of desperation that were licking at your chest. But still, you answered—you were good like that.

“Yours. Always yours.” You whined into his mouth.

“Say you fucking swear.”

“I swear—fuck, Rafe, I swear!” As if you’d said the magic words, like that was all he needed to hear, he sunk two fingers inside of you, curling them and immediately finding the spot that had your head lolling forward, forehead pushed against him. He was unbelievably smug as he watched you, the way your swollen lips formed a near-perfect O as he finger fucked you, juices starting to drip down his hand.

“Please, please!” You keened, hips shoving against his hand roughly, like you could fit more inside of yourself on your own if you tried hard enough.

Always torn between reprimanding you for being difficult or giving in to the smug warmth that took over when you acted like this, he raised an eyebrow, cocking his head to the side. “Please what?”

You struggled with his fingers still moving in and out of you roughly, eyes hazy as you tried to focus on his face, “Please fuck me.”

“I am!” He had the audacity to sound falsely confused, even ramming his fingers more forcefully into you as if to prove his point. You gritted your teeth, though a loud moan managed to escape your mouth anyway, followed immediately by an annoyed whine.

Usually, this would go on for a lot longer. Like… a lot longer. Rafe would toy with you until you were sobbing, pulling his fingers out of you and shoving them into your mouth until tears formed in your eyes from how hard you gagged, and then he’d shove them back inside you, newly soaked. He’d watch your face intently as he made fun of you and edged you endlessly, and his face would break out into a massive grin when you would finally break down and start sobbing from it. Then, maybe, he’d give you what you wanted.

Not now, though. Not when he was in one of his moods.

As if to prove this point, he pressed his lips to yours again, moving them almost gently. Almost. You kissed him back, mewling quietly into his mouth as you leaned further into him. He pulled his fingers out of you, and your frustration at his sudden absence made you break away from the kiss to protest.

Before you could, though, you realized his hand was going to his belt. You watched as he undid his belt buckle sloppily, his hand still glistening with your juices and smearing them against the otherwise pristine metal.

“Be fucking patient—for two seconds.” Though his words were rough, his tone was too soft for him to really mean it, and he let out a sharp breath as his cock finally sprung free from his boxers, where you could still see the wet spot from his precum. The hand you had in his hair tightened to help you keep under control… the two of you had a longstanding issue—you tried desperately to grab his dick nearly every time you saw it, and every time he’d smack your hand hard enough to leave a welt and tell you the same thing—to be fucking patient for two seconds. You’d get it when he said so.

So, this time, you kept one hand in his hair and shoved the other under your thigh. Where they couldn’t grab him, unfortunately.

“That’s my girl.” He breathed, almost reverently. Your face heated up immediately, nearly falling over at how proud he was of you.

Rafe stroked himself a few times, his breath catching slightly as he did, and you watched with wide eyes the way his giant hand moved and how his hips reacted to it. He lined himself up with your entrance and pushed inside slowly, a courtesy he didn’t often give you, and your eyes rolled back immediately. The stretch was minimal, you’d actually always thought his cock fit right inside like the two of you were puzzle pieces (you’d been making an earnest observation when you’d told him that after your first time together, but he’d fucked you so hard afterwards that the bed frame cracked the wall behind it. So much for honest observations.)

Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip, eyes trained on Rafe as you frantically tried to drink in the sight of him all at once. His abs tensed as he thrust in and out of you, your body jolting every time he bottomed out. His straw-blonde hair was perfectly tousled from the way you’d ran your fingers through it, falling in his face just-so, his jaw clenched in concentration. His oceanic eyes flicked to yours and held your gaze, the two of you locked staring into eachother’s eyes, which set him off again:

“We can go to—that little white fuckin’ church in Vegas—and then—get a—fuck, oh, fuck!” He lost his rhythm a little as he got himself more riled up, and you whimpered against his neck as he sloppily increased his pace, “get a fucking hotel room—and I can fuck you there, too—cause you’ll be mine.”

“I am yours.” You managed to get out, and were rewarded with a hard thrust, kissing your cervix in a way that made you gasp. You squeaked, hands finding his shoulders for stability and digging into his muscles, which rippled with exertion from how tightly was holding onto you.

Rafe reached up to fasten his hand around your throat lightly, pulling your mouth to his in an open-mouth kiss that was more the clashing of teeth and his desperate tongue against yours than it was lips touching.

“I’m gonna… fuck, Rafe, I’m—” He didn’t let you finish, muffling the rest of your sentence with his mouth, though the way he sped up his hips told you he knew what you were going to say. His body was warm and solid against yours, one hand squeezing your throat reassuringly while he held you in place by your waist with the other, fucking you like it really was your wedding night, like he was showing you what the rest of the nights in your life were gonna look like. Your fingernails were practically claws against his shoulders, and his face twisted into a gleeful wince that told you it stung.

“Say my name—say it.” He demanded, the look on your face clearly alerting him to the spots dancing behind your eyelids, the coil tightening inside of you that was seconds away from springing. “Now.”

And you did, shouting his name as your orgasm ripped through your body. Every last muscle of yours tensed around Rafe, your legs locking up and your pussy clenching around him. You felt his dick twitch inside of you, and he squeezed his eyes shut as he fought to keep fucking you through the aftershocks. You whimpered in sensitivity, maintaining your vice grip around his shoulders to keep you close while he fucked his cum deeper into you.

The wet sounds, which had grown unbelievably louder and more explicit, were what sent him over the edge. His eyes locked on you again, and you watched his face twist, his mouth falling open as he emptied inside of you.

Rafe shuddered, bending over you to mouth a series of kisses along your jaw and the crook of your neck, pressing his nose affectionately against your face and inhaling deeply as he finished cumming.

“I fucking love you, you know that? I do. I’ll always love you. I swear on my life.”

Your eyes fluttered, mouth quirking up slightly. “You say that every time you cum, jerk.”

His head snapped up to look at you, eyebrows furrowed defensively, though once he saw the look on your face and realized you were kidding, he relaxed. “It’s true!” He murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead and cradling your head gently with his hands.

“Let me get you a towel.” He said as he pulled out, and you gave a tired giggle.

“Gentlemanly.” You muttered.

Rafe grinned. “Only the best for my girl, right?”

[angelfic]

theodore nott x reader

warnings — kissing, kinda pg-13, mentions of drinking/smoking the usual stuff blah blah etc etc

a/n; truly thought another theo fic written by me would never see the light of day but here we are <3 this was meant to be a tiny drabble btw I hate myself!!!! NOT PROOFREAD!

THEODORE NOTT is shy.

he doesn’t understand why people find him intimidating. well, actually, that’s not completely true. he knows that people avoid him when he’s with his friends because they’re doing stupid shit like when enzo and draco are hexing each other for fun. or when mattheo starts scrapping out in the corridor because someone looked at him wrong and blaise is egging him on.

and, okay, maybe theo will jump in at some point too. in his defence, it’s only when the other guy’s friend starts in on him first.

but his friends aside, theo doesn’t understand why people think he’s intimidating when he’s by himself. it’s not his fault his resting face is daunting.

he wishes he could change it sometimes. girls will still come up to him at parties in the common room once he’s had a couple of drinks, but at the risk of becoming an alcoholic, he can’t be that loose all of the time.

theo wishes more than ever that he could cast some sort of spell on himself when you talk to him. you share a few classes, much to theo’s delight, but it’s not like he’s taking advantage of the fact.

every time you speak to him, his brain short circuits and he feels like a piece of muggle technology being fried by the wards of hogwarts. sometimes it’ll be something small like when you ask him to pass over the pot of lacewing flies in potions and he just stares at you.

“uhm, we’ve run out of them on our table,” you explain after a few seconds of silence, giving him a little smile. you point to the ingredients and raise your brows. “so…?”

he knows for a fact that his face is set in a blank expression that probably looks pissed off, especially when he catches sight of your friend at the table next door who practically looks concerned for your safety.

but his ears are burning and he feels like someone’s electrocuted him when he finally hands over the pot without looking at you and your finger brushes against his for a nanosecond.

“thanks,” you say, sincerely, a smile still gracing your lips as he offers you a stiff nod. you act as though you just had a completely normal interaction and it has theo stressing out because what if you see right through him?

another time, you’re late to history of magic and there are two seats left. one near the front and the other next to theo. you rush over and take out your things, barely registering who you’re sitting with, but theo is hyper-aware. no one ever willingly sits next to him aside from his friends.

once you’re settled, it appears that the rush of being late has left you quickly due to the monotone voice of professor bins and instead you’re fighting to stay awake. theo would know, since he keeps throwing glances your way.

at one point professor binns drones on about known cases of dragon pox and when he starts to list the symptoms, including a green and purple rash, theo mutters under his breath to mattheo, “much rather that than having to sit here for another bloody hour.”

his eyes flick over to you, surprised when you let out an unexpected snort of laughter. mattheo, having fallen asleep on his desk unbeknownst to theo, is oblivious to theo’s comment. instead, you’re the one covering your mouth with your hand to stop yourself from laughing too hard and theo physically can’t stop his lips from quirking up. he made you laugh.

later that day, he overhears your friend apologising for not saving you a seat in class. “i can’t believe you went and sat next to nott. i’m surprised he didn’t tell you to piss off.”

you immediately shush her, and your next words make him feel like he just ran a marathon. “i still don’t know what you mean. he’s nice… and funny,” you say simply, shrugging.

he repeats the words in his head over and over until the next time you talk to him, which happens to be at a party in the slytherin common room.

outside the party, actually. theo goes to sit right outside the common room entrance with his cup and a cigarette, partly to smoke and partly to get away from some of the girls who were flocking to him and his friends after they had all had a few drinks.

he’s exhaling a puff of smoke right as you’re quietly exiting the party to take a seat next to him and as soon as he spots you, he accidentally inhales the smoke the wrong way and coughs.

“sorry,” he mutters, waving the smoke away before it can go near you. he feels stupid and decides to just dump the thing into his cup before setting it aside. alcohol makes him looser, but it doesn’t make him completely immune to you.

“it’s fine,” you smile, crossing your legs as you settle on the ground next to him. “how come you’re out here every time there’s a party?”

“too loud,” he explains, letting his head rest against the wall as he starts to feel the buzz kicking in. “that, and to get away from all my adoring fans of course.”

this makes you laugh and theo, in his tipsy state, adorns a lazy grin at the sound, not bothering to hide that he’s looking at you.

“i don’t think there was a single girl who didn’t try chatting you or your friends up in there,” you shake your head, amused.

theo swallows, noticing the way you’re fiddling with the hem of your dress and he wonders if it bothers you. he blames the vodka for making him so bold when he says, “you and your friends didn’t.”

“my friends are scared of you,” you reply, raising your eyebrows as if to ask him if he’s surprised. “they think you’re always glaring at me.”

“nah,” he mumbles, looking at you through slightly hooded eyes. the dimly lit corridor makes your skin glow in a way that has him feeling a bit in awe, and he finds himself blurting out the first thing that comes to mind. “have they considered i’m staring at you because i think you’re fit?”

he promptly wants to punch himself in the face.

weirdly enough, you don’t look taken aback. you tilt your head as if pleasantly surprised, and your lips quirk up into the ghost of a smirk. “i have to say that explains a lot.”

“how so?” he asks, hesitant to know your answer. his heart stutters when you move closer to him and get up slightly to crouch beside him. your fingers reach out to tuck some of his hair behind his ear and he freezes, utterly still.

“well,” you say softly, a teasing glimmer in your eyes. “every time you speak to me the tips of your ears turn pink.”

and then you get up and leave and theo thinks his face has gone numb. he doesn’t remember much else from that evening, but the next morning his friends are asking him why he looks like he wants to kill someone.

he doesn’t know how to tell them that the someone he’s wanting to kill is himself for telling you he thinks you’re fit.

channeling the embarrassment into something useful, he tries to focus all his energy on the quidditch match he’s in against ravenclaw.

it goes by in a blur and somehow they’ve won, and theo thanks his lucky stars that they have because draco would surely have killed him for throwing the match due to being distracted.

the others run off quickly to the common room to celebrate, and theo tells them he’ll be right there, allowing himself to linger in the changing rooms for some peace and quiet before the inevitable celebrations.

“hey.”

he spins around, still in uniform with sweat dampening his hair and his green eyes fall on you in surprise. “uh. hi. what are you doing here?” he asks, uncertainly after the events of the night before. he hopes to Godric his ears are covered right now.

“just came to congratulate you,” you say with a playful smile.

theo’s brows furrow and his shoulders involuntarily slump slightly. he isn’t sure what he expected you to say, but it wasn’t that. “oh.”

you push yourself off the doorframe and enter the room, slowly walking closer to him. he’s never been more grateful for deodorant in his life.

“and one more thing,” you add, inching closer still.

“mhm?” theo is practically holding his breath in anticipation, and when you reach out to gently touch his arm, he stiffens for a second.

“i think you’re fit too.”

a startled laugh leaves him at your whispered words and instead of saying thank you, he finds himself stepping forward to clear the air and say what he’s been thinking since the party.

“i don’t think you’re fit,” he starts, face dropping when your smile falters. “shit, no, i mean you are. fuck,” he breathes out, dragging a hand down his face.

you take in the faint blush creeping up his neck that definitely wasn’t there right after he finished the match and allow him a second to gather himself.

“you’re beautiful,” he stammers, closing the gap between the two of you in earnest. he faintly registers the fact that he’s practically towering over you and leans down in an attempt to be less intimidating. “like, crazy beautiful. i meant to say that yesterday instead of sounding like an absolute twat, but i mean, what else is new when i’m around you-“

you cut him off by grabbing him by the collar of his quidditch jersey and pulling him down to press your lips against his in a firm, unyielding kiss. he stiffens, hands hovering uncertainly at his sides for a moment as though he’s frozen, but it isn’t long before he’s reacting, as though he’s suddenly woken up.

his hands find your waist immediately, pulling you into him and straightening up slightly to deepen the kiss, pulling you up slightly to stand on your tiptoes as your lips slot against his.

theo breaks the kiss to meet your eyes with his own wide ones, rushing out words between kisses. “i don’t think you understand just how long…” he exhales into your mouth, kissing you firmly. “i’ve been wanting to do…” he nips at your bottom lip, making you gasp. “this,” he finishes, grinning into the kiss when you melt against him.

theo takes the opportunity to reach his hands down to your thighs, lifting you up and carrying you over to the wall where he’s suddenly kissing you with a new confidence, moving to pepper kisses down your jaw and onto your neck.

you tuck a finger under his chin to lift his face up to yours where you match his grin, your lips swollen and eyes glazed over. he’s never seen a more beautiful sight.

“took you long enough.”

a/n cont.; I hate this soooo bad it was meant to be a silly little drabble and now it’s a block of uncapitalised mess but I’d put too much time into it (less than a day) so here u are I GUESS. take a shot every time I write a kiss that starts exactly that way

[justmeinadaze]

Reflection (Eddie X Y/N)

A/N: This idea came to mind after thinking about a conversation I had last night with a friend. (Yeah let's not talk about it.)

Enjoy <3

Warnings: Rockstar Eddie & Fem Y/N, daddy kink (cause im me), phone sex, LOTS of dirty talk, established relationship, fluff

Word Count: 1242

“You’re an idiot, Eddie Munson.”, you giggle as he grins at the sound.

“I always forget how much I miss your laugh till I haven’t heard it in almost three days.”, the rockstar sighs into the phone receiver. “I wish I could see your face.”

“I know, baby. Did they say when you guys would be headed home?”

“Naw. All I know is this week we’re doing another photo op and some event thing I know absolutely nothing about. I don’t fucking get why we ALL have to be there.”

“I mean its Corroded Coffin attending not just, you know, Jeff and some friends.” Eddie exhales again as his thumb gently caress the picture of you two he keeps in his wallet. “What are you thinking about, honey?”

“I’m thinkin’…about how much I miss you…and how nice it would be to fall asleep with you in my arms. I’m thinkin’…about when I took on our date to the Starcourt mall and how fucking beautiful you looked in that black dress with your red converse.”

“You loved ‘em. Look I don’t own nice shoes! Not at that time anyway.”, you laugh, getting more comfortable on your bed that seemed way too big when the metalhead wasn’t there. “We went to the photobooth outside the movie theater and took those goofy pictures.”

Eddie beamed as he took in each little square of the photos with you two smiling like dorks. The last few frames were his favorite especially the last one where your hands were cupping his cheeks as his forehead leaned against yours. After the flash went off, he kissed you, knowing in that moment that you were the girl he was going to marry one day. 

Tilting his head back against the headboard of the hotel bed, his eyes met his own reflection as he smirked at the mirrors above him. 

“You know being on the road has given me some interesting ideas for our bedroom.”

“Oh yeah? Deviant ideas or decorating ideas?”

“Both.”, he chuckles. “My hotel room here on the strip has mirrors above the bed.”

“Oh my god, Eddie.”

“Oh, come on, sweetheart. I can see you from every angle especially when you’re riding me.”

“Eddie…”, you slightly pant his name and his smile grows as he watches himself reach into his sweatpants and pull out his half hard cock. “I…don’t know how to…we’ve never…”

“I like when you get all shy and innocent.”, he teases making your face warm. Listening to him spit on the other end has your pussy clenching and you allow your own hand to roam as it slides under the waistband of your panties. “Just talk to me, baby. That’s all you have to do until I can come home and Daddy can take care of his pretty girl properly.”

When you giggle, he pictures you doing it; your face ducking down trying to hide from his eyeline.

“Come on, princess. Tell me what you’re wearing.”

“I always wear one of your shirts when you aren’t here. It smells like you, Daddy.”

“Aw, baby. I always have my pictures of us. I bring them everywhere with me so I can see your face. Do you, uh, are you wearing any panties or a bra?”

“No bra…just my panties. The little red ones you like.”

“With the rose on the band?” A mixture of a pant and a laugh escape his lips when you confirm. “Fuck, I love pulling those down with my teeth.”

Eddie hears you giggle but it sounds muffled, telling him you’re biting your bottom lip which drives him crazy at the sight. Even just imagining it has his cock stiffening more in his grasp and he utilizes the little beads of precum to lubricate himself more. 

“W-What are you wearing, Daddy?”

“My, uh—fuck—my black sweatpants and some boxers. I pushed them down enough so I can…you know.”

“No, baby, I don’t. Why don’t you tell me?”, you tease. 

“There’s my girl. My little sarcastic pain in my ass.”, he laughs as you do the same.

“You love me.”

“Always. Fuck…I’m pumping my dick with my fist. Are you touching yourself, pretty girl?”

“Yes, Daddy. I’m—mmph—rubbing my clit…wishing it was your tongue.”

“Shit—good girl. C-Can you imagine if we had these mirrors, baby? Y-You could watch me suck and fuck you with my tongue while my fingers spread you open.”

“Fuck, Daddy.”

“God, Y/N, you’re making me so hard. Put a couple of your fingers inside that tight little pussy for Daddy, baby.”, Eddie mewls as he thrusts his hips subtly against his fist. 

He hears your whimpers on the other end and his eyes roll back.

“Tell me how it feels, sweetheart.”

“Feels…feels good, Daddy. I’m so wet. I-I’m picturing watching you on top of me…if we h-had those mirrors—fuck—seeing my legs wrapped around you as you fuck me into the mattress.”

“Just like that, Y/N. Mmph—keep going.”

“Oh my God… seeing your ass as you pound into me…O-Or when you put my leg over your shoulder…I can watch your big cock disappear inside of me…Daaaddy.”

You could hear the light smacking sound of his fist as he picked up his pace and his head flew back as his eyes squeezed shut listening to you struggle to catch your breath. 

“Beg me to cum, baby. Beg Daddy to cum.”

“P-Please, Daddy. I need you to cum for me.”

“W-Where do you want it, sweetheart.”

“Ah…in…inside my pussy, Daddy, please.”

“Oh, f-fuck.”

Eddie grunted as he curled into his body, his release erupting and hitting his hand as he pictured himself filling you up. At the sound, your heavy pants filled his ear, listening to you whine as the coil snapped. 

“Oh my God.”

“Y-You ok, beautiful?”

“Yeah…did, um, did I do good?”

“You did better than good, Y/N. Fuck, that was amazing. Who knew you had such a dirty mouth.”

You laughed at his joke as you listened to his voice strain knowing he was reaching for a towel to clean himself with.

“You know what another benefit of those mirrors would be?”

“What, baby?”

“Afterward, when I hold you, I can finally get a good look of your entire face especially when your head is on my chest.”

“Eddie.”, you coo his name and again, he chuckles as he places the picture of you two back in his wallet pausing at the little blue box he had placed near it after coming back to the hotel that afternoon. 

“I, um, I think I’m coming home a bit early.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to get in trouble or anything.”

Nerves radiate through him as he balances the box on his fingers before flipping it open to display the modest little diamond engagement ring inside. 

“Naw, sweetheart, I won’t get in trouble and even if I do fuck them. You’re more important to me than anything else. Plus, I, uh, got you something I really want to give you.”

“Eddie, you didn’t have to get me anything.”

“I know I didn’t HAVE to. I wanted to. I’ve actually been looking for this particular thing for a while.”

“Edward Munson, if it’s mirrors, I swear to God…”

Eddie cackles as he closed the box and set it back next to his wallet. 

“Pfft, after what I just heard, I’ll bet you ten bulks you’ll already have them installed before I get home.”

#############

Eddie Masterlist

[ridingthatd]

∞ MAST♡R CUM DUMPSTER ｡.｡

➤ gojo, nanami, geto

gojo & nanami walking into their friend suguru shoving his cursed orbs inside your poor little pussy.

➤ warning : fem! reader, four sum, very dirty, very kinky, very nasty, a loooot of cum, pussy stretching, pussy gaping, squirting, breeding, degrading, anal sex, ass stretching, getting fucked in every hole, humiliation, rough sex, fisting pussy, sex toys, raw dogging.

geto suguru was your master.

after you got hurt losing one of your eyes in the mission you, gojo and geto were assigned to. geto vowed to break the cycle and kill every non-sorcerer to prevent the birth of more cursed spirits so you can never get hurt again.

now geto was collecting curses by "curing" cursed humans. suguru disguised himself as the head of a buddhist temple to attract cursed humans with the promise of "curing" them.

here he was sitting cross-legged inside the temples soft floor while his head was resting on his rough hand, his other hand was holding you tight by the waist as the plumpness of your ass was seated on his folded leg.

his hand start rubbing against your belly earning a low moan from you. he smirks you can already feel the hotness of his fat cock pressing against your soft ass.

"hm? does my little slut want to be stuffed by her master?". his warm breath fan against your neck as he leans in closer, his rough hand already made it's way under your kimono gripping your soft thighs tightly.

that's how you got here, flipped on getos lap your face pressed against the soft mattress on the ground while your wet pussy is wide open for any eyes that enter the temple.

the only sounds that filled the room was your heavy whines, breathless moans. and the wet sound of your pussy sucking in every cursed orb getos shoves inside you.

you sob whining, your thighs were trembling as you feel the orb ripping, stretching your wet little hole before it gets sucked inside your sticky slimy tunnel of a pussy.

suguru tsk at the sight, you can feel his hard on twitching and leaking against your belly. he was huffing like a dog as he gaze at the way your filthy pussy gush hot fluid outside each time he tries to shove an orb in like it's moisting your hole with sticky warm natural lube, getting it ready to slide another orb in.

he groans his mouth gape open staring through his heavy eyelids at how your dirty pussy was gripping tightly on the next orb he place before it sloppily slides in with a pop, like it's so needy so hungry to feed on his cursed orbs.

the veins surrounding his fat cock throbs as he feels the way a bludge start forming in your belly, getting stuffed from how many orbs he shoved inside your poor little pussy.

drool slides down his wet lips admiring how puffy, red and abused your pussy lips looked. so good so stuffed so full.

you were fucked out of your mind, your body was trembling shaking as you sob and hiccup over stimulated and full. not noticing the eyes of your two old friends hungrily staring at your pathetic state.

suguru chuckles, his eyes trail from your pussy to nanami and satoru who's eyes were glued on you.

"I told you my little slut was doing good".

it was getos idea to show your old friends how your sweet little pussy take his cursed orbs one by one so well.

they wanted to see you, check on their dear friend. geto invited them over without letting you know.

there eyes were glued on you. never leaving you while their fat cocks leak painfully. they didn't expect to find you in this position, fucked like a little slut.

so fucked to the point you don't notice their presence. your mouth was open as load of spit drool out of it, the only words you can make out were-

"please-! please-". you hiccup, begging your master to let you cum.

suguru coo at you rubbing your puffy red clit before whispering something in your ear and soon after you freeze, realizing who's in the room with you.

"so what do you say baby? should you help our little friends hm?". he smirks.

every hole in your body was stuffed. your body violently shake, your screams were muffled by nanamis thick cock as he pumps it in and out your abused lips.

you were laying down on sugurus chest, your hard nipples rubbing against his as he lays under you.

while his hand grip hard on your ass slamming his fat cock inside your sore pussy. your body trembles as you feel the curse orbs that were still stuffed inside your pussy twirling around, consistently hitting your g-spot with each hard thrust of getos cock.

your ears were filled with satorus groans as he hold your face close to him by the hair, your earlobe was coated with his warm spit as he wettly suck on your ears while his sensitive cock thrust inside your ass hole.

"look at me you fucking slut". nanami growls as he slams his fat cock down your throat bruising it before you feel robes of his hot cum shooting down your throat.

"m-master! no! no! no more please-" you immediately start sobbing out as soon nanami pulls out his cock, his warm cum was spilling out of your mouth as you struggle to speak.

"you fucking slut, who gave you the permission to spill it from your mouth".

nanami harshly growls out before he slaps your face with his rough hand. just to grab you roughly by your hair and force your face to meet his. but you weren't even lookin at him, eyes crossed focusing on the feeling of the two cocks inside of you.

he tsks before scoping the cum that was on your lips and shoving in back inside your mouth and you immediately start sucking on his fingers.

suguru slide your pussy down his cock one more time before he spurt his cum everywhere, coating your walls white.

you can feel the cum geto that spilled inside you sliding against the orbs making it more sticky and sloppy.

that's what had you squirting, over flowing with juice. that's what had you drooling. mouth over flowing with your own sloppy spit- spit that was mixed with nanamis warm cum that he stuffed inside your mouth. you were choking struggling to keep his boiled seeds that filled your mouth from spilling.

tears running down your face as your whole body thrust against geto who was under you- reminding you of the gojo fat cocks that was gaping your tight ass hole wide open.

you can feel the hardness of his red, sensitive nipples rubbing against your back as he thrusts in.

suguru hiss as he looks at the state of your nasty little pussy that was barely recognizable anymore. it was gaping open as his warm cum that was mixed with your fluid leak out of it, your pussy lips were so stretched so red so puffy so sensitive.

that as soon as he pinch your fat clit, your body freeze before you tense and a scream rips out of your throat as a forceful stream of hot liquid gush out of your abused hole.

the orbs that were placed inside you burst out from the force of your orgasm, each orb was sloppily popping out of your pussy.

the feeling of being gaped open was to much- the feeling of the sloppy orbs bursting out of your puffy pussy with so much force was to much.

it was all to much that it had you sobbing, drooling and spilling the cum out of your mouth as you hiccup, forgetting about the order of keeping it stuffed in your mouth that nanami gave you.

your mind was foggy, eyes blurry with tears, your lips were parted, jaw hanging open as drool of spit and cum drips down.

you couldn't control yourself anymore as your juice spray every where, coating the floor with your hot juice.

you couldn't control the orbs that were popping out of your pussy.

satorus whimpers at the sight his cock pumping as he ruts harder inside your ass hole, he doesn't even realize what's he's doing as his hand trail under your ass and reach your nasty little pussy.

it was gaping so wide open that he easily shoved his whole fist in, he moans loudly once he feels the way your gummy sticky walls grips his fist, massaging it.

and that sends him to the edge, slamming his hips into your ass before painting it with his seeds.

nanami grabs your fucked face, before shoving his tongue inside your mouth, licking and sucking on your tongue.

that's how you turned into their cum dumpster.

[everythingspokenfor]

All characters are aged up 18+. MDNI.

━─━─━─━─━─━─━─━─━

You knew this was a possibility, that's why you took extra precautions, tied the strings so well that you were sure you'll have to cut them at the end of the day. But here you were, contemplating how on earth did this happen...

Mina had finally pulled the entire group into going on a vacation, choosing one of the Okinawa beaches, all of you packed up and came to the private penthouse. The vacation was long overdue, everyone too excited to chill out and relax.

It was all good, friends chilling out eating, drinking and finally relaxing after months of tedious hero work.

You were thoroughly enjoying yourself, even if you had to deal with him. Bakugou and you had a sort of love hate relationship, constantly fighting but still having each other's back. Friends constantly commenting about the thick sexual tension between you both, which left you yelling at them, they weren't wrong tho, not that you would admit outloud.

"Move, Sugar." Bakugou rasps out, hand holding a can of beer, he was shirtless, wet swim trunks sticking to him thighs, tan lines clearly visible on his legs, he was still glossy from playing in the water. Had you hated him any lesser, you would have licked the water off him, alas that thought is something to be revisited in darker hours of the night.

"Go around the towel, dipshit", You retort, going back to lathering yourself up with sunscreen, he snorts, before stepping on your fucking towel and going along.

"Asshole!" You yell at him, whole he continues to laugh at your face. You took in deep breaths, this fucker isn't going to ruin your vacation.

You got back to your sunscreen, before reapplying you lip gloss, you put too much effort into your appearance today. It was a deep maroon two piece, the bottoms had a fabric around it making it seem like a mini skirt, while the top was tied with strings.

As much as you loved the bikini, the top was making you nervous, you had taken every measure to prevent the strings from untying, even kept a spear towel, having heard too many stories of women losing their bikinis in the sea making you paranoid. It was probably also why you hadn't ventured into the ocean yet.

"Gurll- you lookin' cute there." Mina walked up to you, handing you a bright blue concoction, you grinned at her before downing the drink.

"Thanks, babes." You giggled, cheekily winking at her.

"What aren't you getting into waters tho? The weather is pleasant too." She queried, leaning in to steal your gloss. "I am gonna go, just applied sunscreen." You dusted your hands, as you stood up, Mina finished putting on the gloss, tossing the tube in your bag before both of you raced into the waters.

The boys, Kaminari, Kirishima and Sero welcomed you both in with splashes, playing around in waters lasted for a bit, after multiple rounds of chicken fight, Kirishima called Bakugou, asking him to join in.

"Ain't interested in yer shitty games." He yelled back, didn't bother looking at the group.

"Scared you'll lose," Sero provoked him, knowing that with right words he can get Bakugou to do anything.

"Fuck did ya' say?" He grits out, before standing up and charge towards your group, all of you scream before swimming in different directions, trying to not be his first victim.

Adrenaline pumped through your vessels, as you swam to furthest end of the shore, leaning against the big rocks keeping you hidden from the main shore. Breathing hard, you placed a hand on your chest, trying to slow the beating of your heart. Only to come to a horrible realisation that you weren't wearing your bikini top.

You were bare from waist above, frantically you tried looking for you top, hoping to find a maroon cloth lying somewhere, unfortunately you couldn't see anything that could vaguely resemble your bikini.

Panic set in when you realised that from this end of the shore, you can't even go to your spot on the beach, chance of grabbing your towel without being seen by your friends were too thin.

"Caught you!" Bakugou roars as he swims around the rocks, only to be stopped as you let out a yell, turning away from him.

"Stay there, Bakugou!" You barely even stay afloat, hairs shielding your back, while hands crossing over your chest.

"What? You suddenly don't want to play, when I catch you?" He rasps out, slightly curious as to why you wouldn't even turn to face him.

"It's not that." You let out a sigh, contemplating whether it's a good idea or not to ask Bakugou for help, he could potentially swin back and get you a towel.

"What is it then, Sugars?" He is much closer now, you can almost feel him behind you. "My top is lost." You whined out, praying he helps you.

"Sorry, what?!"

"My bikini top is lost, it untied while swimming." You whisper-yell at him, giving him a stink eye over your shoulder. He doesn't reply, instead it goes too quite, you slowly peek over your shoulder, only to lock eyes at Bakugou who is already looking at you.

Infact he was looking slightly below, as if checking whether or not you had the top. "Fucking pervert, I'll beat your ass!" Had your hands not been busy you would have whacked him.

"I am not a fucking pervert, I was thinking."

"Had you thought longer, you would have popped a boner."

"You want my help or not."

You went silent at that, of course you needed his help, especially if you didn't want to flash your friends.

"That's what I thought." He speaks at your silence, his voice a little too smug, "you got spear clothes here?" He queried, swimming back a little to look at your bag by the beach.

"I have a towel in there, it's big enough for me." You answer him over your shoulder, he wasn't looking at you anymore instead he was turned away mostly, head slightly tilted so he could hear you.

"Stay put, I'll get it," he almost start swimming before he turns towards you and says "Try not loosing the bottoms, in the meantime." And off he goes.

You knew just from that comment, he isn't going to let you live it down, you are sure he'll probably end up changing your name to some stupid shit constantly reminding you of today, but at least he is helping.

Everybody had already gone inside, letting Bakugou get you, when he reached where your towel had been laid out, he looked for your bag, not wanting to snoop too much, he got to work, quickly looking into the back to realise that there wasn't any towels in it. For a moment he wondered whether he should gather up your sand towel but decided against it.

He quickly jogged over to his spot at the beach, and grabbed the t-shirt he was wearing earlier, getting back into the ocean, he swam towards the rocks where you were hidden.

"Oi! There wasn't any towels, got you a t-shirt tho." He stretches an arm towards you, wet t-shirt in his fist.

"I had one, tho." You look at him in confusion, submerged neck deep into the ocean, hands crossed tightly. You were facing him slightly, eyes looking that clothe, you unwrapped one arm, from around yourself and reached for it, Bakugou averted his gaze, further stretching out his hand so you could reach it.

He moved a little closer, eyes still looking away, arms spread to make sure nobody can see you, even if it a private area of the beach.

You put the shirt on, feeling a little less exposed, turning around to fully face Bakugou, "Thank you, I suppose." You sheepishly scratch the back of your head, assuming the interaction is over and you'll both head back in.

"First of all☝🏻'you suppose?' and secondly you owe me more than a thank you."

He spits out, crossing his arms, and jutting out his hips. You eyes immediately drifted to his tits pecs that had become extenuated, before immediately locking eyes with his.

"Fucking pervert," He mimicked your earlier words.

"I am not! What do you want, Bakugou?" You exasperated, sighing dramatically, crossing your arms as well.

He moved towards you, arms unfolding to sway by his side, "Be nice, Sugar."

You scoff, eyes squinting at him suspiciously, more than aware of how close he was to you. He leans in clear, backing you against the rocks, leaning towards one side, leaving ample space for you to move away from him if you wanted.

He was close enough you could feel his minty breath onto your face, he locked eyes with you before leaning in, instinctively you closed your eyes, head tilting as your hands came to rest on his chest.

The kiss was taking a bit too long, peeking with one eye, you realised Baking was staring at you with s grin on his face.

"You asshole!!" You yelled at him, pushing at his chest, trying to move away from him, he was cackling, hands still grasping at your wrists, not letting you move away from him.

"Sorry, sorry." He wheezed out, pulling you towards him,"Oi, I am sorry, listen Sugars."

You didn't care tho, too tired to be dealing with his shenanigans, he was determined tho, pulled at your wrists, turning to glare at him, you were surprised by feeling of his lips against yours.

You stood there limp, Bakugou taking the lead for you, one arm around your waist other tilting your head to the side, deepening the kiss. You slowly brought you hands around his neck, fingers coming to run through his blonde hairs.

You pull away breaths heavy, he continues kissing down your jaw, leaving behind love bites for you to later press into.

He comes back up, pressing his forehead against yours, "So, how 'bout I take you out, Sugars?"

━─━─━─━─━─━─━─━─━

[lilith-vodkaaunt-of-demons]

I'm no professional writer, and some of this is okay advice, but also I feel like this is focusing too much on...I can't really think of the word, but my point is that it talks about things "Feeling repetitive" or "Mechanical" or "Flowing Naturally" but put all together it seems to forget that....people don't all...speak like this?

Like the "Do: Keep Dialogue Concise" part. The "Instead of Doing This" part sounds like someone dragging out a sentence because they're afraid of the consequences of expressing that they're leaving. Meanwhile the "Consider Doing This" part has no emotion. It feels more like someone backing out of something as mundane as a particularly long Monopoly game than someone telling someone they care about that they can't take the stress and pressure of continuing some arduous task, but they're afraid their friend will be mad or hate them.

I can pretty much same the same for the "Don't: Have characters explain too much" bit, although I will add in the caveat that the "Consider doing this instead" option still functions depending on the characters current state of being. The first one comes off as someone having a break-down, babbling emotionally because the things that made them who they are have slowly disappeared and they've lost sight of themselves. The second reads more of someones who's past that, they've shut down and accepted they entire persona is a facade hiding an empty shell with no substance.

My overall point is that some of the advice is okay some of the time, but it almost feels like the writer forgot that people don't communicate perfectly concisely, perfectly eloquently, and perfectly non-repetitively most of the time. People repeat themselves, have a tendency to be unnecessarily verbose, and over explain things all the time. At one point near the end, the writer says "Repetitive Dialogue can make conversations feel mechanical and predictable." as if communication shouldn't be predictable, while also instructing the reader to pare down their dialogue to an almost mechanical point. "Don't be repetitive because that's mechanical, but don't be too wordy because that's long winded."

Again, I'm not a professional writer, but my advice? There are three core components to any and all conversations. The participants, the circumstances, and the intent. The Participants: Who all is in the conversation? What are their relationships to each other? What are everyone's feelings on the topics and the conversation in general? These things will inform how different participants behave while participating. Someone who doesn't want to be having the conversation will talk less than those who do. If someone a character likes is participating, they might talk more.

The Circumstances: Where, when, and why is the conversation happening? Is it in person? If not, what is the method of communication? Are things happening around the participants? Are they inside? Outside? Safe? In danger? A squad of rebel soldiers in a hostile area will have a different conversation than a group of coworkers in an office, even if the subject of the conversation is the same. The setting and circumstances surrounding the conversation will inform the tenor of the dialogue. The soldiers conversation would likely be more concise and clipped for speed and precision, whereas the co-workers would be more drawn out and lazy because they're more relaxed.

The Intent: What is the conversation about? Are there goals for the conversation? And if so, what are the desired outcomes for each participant? How important are those outcomes to the people that want them, and how would they go about trying to achieve those outcomes? Are there hidden ulterior motives? The intent of the conversation is the purpose of the interaction, which is then modified by the Circumstances and Participants.

Here's an example. We have two groups, Soldiers and Coworkers (the participants.) The Soldiers are in hostile territory during a war, and the Coworkers are in the office on a weekend pulling some overtime (The Circumstances.) Both groups are talking about talking a meal break (The intent.) The conversation between the squad of soldiers is going to clipped, concise, a little repetitive, and quiet as they try to find a place that's secure and defensible while they quickly eat their MREs and maybe get a quick power nap in before moving because staying in one place for too long behind enemy lines is dangerous. Meanwhile, the Coworkers conversation is going to be more leisurely. They'll waffle more between where they want to go to buy lunch. They might have small side conversations between the actual decision making of where they're going to eat. There's more room for disagreement because there's little to no stakes besides someone being less than completely satisfied with their meal. Maybe some office politcs gets brought up because FUCKING BRENT never pays for his meal even though he get THE MOST EXPENSIVE ITEM every time. The conversation will be slower, less focused, more wordy and over-explained as people suggest, strike down, and defend options.

Dialogue Do’s and Don’ts

Do: Keep Dialogue True to Character

Instead of:

"I cannot believe this is happening, and I am utterly devastated by the consequences of this disastrous situation!"

Consider:

"This is a mess. I don’t even know where to start."

The first example sounds forced and unnatural, while the second feels more like something a real person would say when overwhelmed. Keep your character’s voice in mind—how would they speak, based on their personality, background, and the situation?

Don’t: Overuse Exposition

Instead of:

"You know, Jane, it’s been three years since we met in that small town in Iowa. I was just 19, and it was the summer of 2003 when you moved to that street, right next to the café where we had our first coffee."

Consider:

"I remember the first time I saw you across the street. You had that awful red scarf on."

The first example dumps way too much unnecessary information on the reader. Stick to the essentials—dialogue should enhance the plot, not rehash everything.

Do: Use Subtext for Tension

Instead of:

"I can’t believe you left me in the middle of the night without a word! I thought you loved me!"

Consider:

"You really should’ve told me you were going. I would’ve liked to say goodbye."

The first example feels overly dramatic and obvious, while the second is subtle yet impactful. Subtext lets the emotions simmer below the surface, creating tension and making the reader feel what’s being left unsaid.

Don’t: Overuse Dialogue Tags

Instead of:

"I don’t think we should be doing this," she said worriedly. "But I want to," he said eagerly. "This isn’t right," she said hesitantly.

Consider:

"I don’t think we should be doing this." "But I want to." "This isn’t right."

Excessive dialogue tags like “said worriedly” or “said eagerly” can feel redundant. Trust the dialogue itself to convey emotion. Only add tags when absolutely necessary.

Do: Keep Dialogue Concise

Instead of:

"You know, the thing is, I’ve been thinking about this a lot. And I realize that this situation is really tricky, and I don’t know how we got here, but I know I don’t want to be in it anymore."

Consider:

"I can’t do this anymore."

The first example drones on and loses impact. The second gets straight to the point, leaving more room for tension, action, and emotional impact.

Don’t: Have Characters Explain Too Much

Instead of:

"I’ve been feeling this way because, you know, ever since I lost my job, I’ve just felt like I don’t know who I am anymore. I guess I don’t have a purpose."

Consider:

"I don’t know who I am anymore."

Over-explaining emotions or backstory in dialogue can sound unnatural. Let your characters’ actions and non-verbal cues fill in the blanks. Sometimes, less is more.

Do: Use Dialogue to Show Relationship Dynamics

Instead of:

"I’m angry at you for leaving me behind like that!"

Consider:

"You’ve always done this, haven’t you? Leave when things get tough."

The second example shows more vulnerability and history between the characters. It’s not just about the present moment—it hints at past experiences and establishes a deeper emotional dynamic.

Don’t: Use Dialogue to Tell How the Character Feels

Instead of:

"I feel so hurt by what you said to me yesterday. It really hurt my feelings."

Consider:

"You didn’t have to say that. I’ve been trying my best."

Rather than stating exactly how they feel, the second example shows the character’s hurt through their reaction. Let the emotions emerge naturally from the character’s words.

Do: Use Pauses and Silence

Instead of:

"Why didn’t you tell me? You should’ve said something earlier!"

Consider:

"You should’ve told me." (Beat) "Why didn’t you tell me?"

The pause makes the second line feel more impactful and thoughtful. Silence and beats in dialogue create space for the reader to feel the tension and weight of the moment.

Don’t: Use the Same Dialogue Formula Repeatedly

Instead of:

"Are you okay?" "Yeah, I’m fine." "Are you sure?" "Yeah, I’m sure."

Consider:

"Are you okay?" (Beat) "Do I look okay?" "I—" "No. I’m not."

Repetitive dialogue can make conversations feel mechanical and predictable. The second example introduces uncertainty, making the dialogue feel more natural and layered.

[sinofwriting]

Faking It - Max Verstappen

Words: 850 Summary: Max finds out his girlfriend faked an orgasm. Note(s): NSFW, Talks of Sex, Mention of Semi-Public Sex. Part of a kind series where drivers find out reader faked an orgasm.

Max pauses just before the entryway to the living room. “Have you ever y’know?” His brows furrow at the vague question from his girlfriend’s best friend.

“Have I ever what?”

“Faked it. Have you ever faked an orgasm?”

She scoffs, “Before Max, yes.”

His cheeks turn a bit pink at the conversation he was overhearing, but he also stands a bit taller.

He knew that their sex life was good, that she was getting orgasms, they had of course talked about it, but it was different hearing her talk to someone else about it with no idea he was there.

His brows furrowed in confusion when she speaks again, “well, I don’t really know if it counts as faking it.”

“What?”

“I mean, there’s been a few times when we’ve had sex where I didn’t orgasm.”

His mind starts screaming at him, because what? He always made sure she came, usually before he did.

“Not because it wasn’t good or because I didn’t want to. I just couldn’t.” He can practically see the shrug she gives. “The sex was still good though.”

“Y/N!” Her friend screeches and it breaks up a little through the phone.

The words replay in his head as he goes back to their bedroom, lying down on the bed. He tries to think of when she would have faked it but nothing comes to mind. He’s so wrapped up in his head he doesn’t hear her call his name or get onto the bed until she’s laying down on top of him, his arms instinctively wrapping themselves around her.

“What you thinking about?” She asks, pressing kisses to his jaw.

It normally relaxes the feeling of her lips pressed against his skin but not quite where he wants them, a lovely prelude to before she kisses him, but he can’t get past what he heard and he’s never been practically shy.

“When did you fake it? Having an orgasm with me?”

Her fingers pause where they had begun to lift his shirt to slide under. “Max, it’s not a big deal.”

His frown deepens and he’s pushing her upwards so they can look at each other. “Yes, it is. I always thought that I made you orgasm, usually first. And now I’ve found that isn’t true.”

She shakes her head. “You do! I promise you do.”

He doesn’t say anything and she sighs.

“It’s only happened twice.”

He doesn’t know if he’s relieved that it only happened twice or pissed that he failed twice. It should have never happened but twice was far too much.

“The first time was after the FIA gala last year.”

His eyebrows furrow, “But you talk about that night a lot.”

“It was a good night. I felt good, amazing. I loved everything we did, I just wasn’t able to orgasm. I didn’t feel unsatisfied or anything. Especially not with my wake-up call.”

He smirks at the reminder of the next morning. He had woken up just as the sun was rising and had ducked under the covers and ate her out until she was begging for him to stop. His jaw and tongue had ached for hours after, but it was worth it for the taste of her stayed just as long.

“The second time was in China. I just couldn’t stop thinking about what if someone walked in.”

“So, I didn’t fuck you good enough.”

She slaps his chest lightly, sending him a disbelieving look. “I was limping a little after. And you're lucky I was wearing those heels and everyone believed me when I said I twisted my ankle.”

“I’m sorry.” Max apologizes again, picking up her hand and kissing it. He still felt a little bad that their first foray into semi-public sex had been so rough. “Why didn’t you tell me though? That I didn’t make you come?”

“It wasn’t that big of a deal to me.” She tells him. “I love having sex with you, it always feels good regardless of me orgasming or not. And in those two instances I was just happy to be that close to you.”

He stares at her, looking deep into her eyes. He still feels like he’s failed but the way she’s looking at him, all gentle wide eyes filled with truth. “I’ll let it go.”

She snorts and he covers her mouth with his hand.

“But only if you tell me next time. Just so I can immediately make it up to you.” He says, removing his hand as he says the last word.

“Okay, I’ll tell you next time.”

“Thank you.” He murmurs, pressing their lips together.

She hums into the kiss, her one hand slipping out of his and returning to the hem of shirt, drawing it up so she can slip her hands underneath and his stomach flexes at the feeling of her fingertips and he’s rolling them over. Easily putting himself in between her legs.

“Feel like making a mess for me?”

She lets out a happy little sigh, teeth lightly sinking into her bottom lip as she nods. “Please?”

“Of course.”

[shdysders]

love wasn’t enough

pairing: vada cavell & female reader

summary: you and vada thought you could handle the distance that came with college—until you couldn’t.

word count: 6.8k

The car idled by the curb, its low, steady hum filling the suffocating silence between you. The sun hung low in the sky, its golden light spilling over the street and casting jagged shadows across the pavement.

Neither of you had moved for what felt like hours, and the stillness was heavy enough to crush you both.

This was it—the moment you'd dreaded for months, hanging over you like a storm cloud ever since the day those college acceptance letters arrived.

When you'd first realized you weren't going to the same school, it felt like the world had shifted beneath your feet, throwing everything off balance.

The excitement of getting in—of finally moving toward your futures—was completely overshadowed by the realization that those futures wouldn't start side by side.

Vada had laughed nervously when you told her, brushing it off like it wasn't a big deal. "We'll figure it out," she'd said, but her voice cracked just enough to betray her. She'd always been good at hiding how she felt, but you knew her too well to miss the flicker of fear behind her eyes.

You hadn't talked about it much that night, both of you too overwhelmed to confront what it meant. But later, curled up together on her bed with her arms wrapped tightly around you, the silence had broken.

You'd cried together, your tears soaking into her hoodie as she whispered soft reassurances, even though neither of you believed them. You'd made promises to each other in the dark—promises that you'd keep calling, keep visiting, keep loving each other no matter how hard it got.

They were promises you wanted so badly to keep, but even then, deep down, you'd both known how fragile they were.

The two of you had always talked about the future like it was something tangible, something you could hold in your hands.

Long nights spent lying on the floor of her room, staring up at the ceiling, planning out every detail like it was inevitable.

You'd talked about what you'd do for a living—Vada always said she'd end up working in film somehow, and you had your own dreams, though they always shifted depending on the day.

You'd joked about buying a car together, getting a dog to keep her happy because she swore no house was complete without one.

Marriage, kids, growing old together—it had all seemed so real when you talked about it, so easy.

But the one thing you hadn't talked about was this: the years it would take to get there, and the distance that stood in the way.

It had never really hit you that before you could have that life, you'd have to make it through moments like this.

The thought alone had made your chest ache every time it crossed your mind, so you'd tried not to dwell on it.

A few days before you were supposed to leave, the two of you had started avoiding the subject entirely. Talking about it made it too real, and you weren't ready for real.

You'd tried to fill your time with distractions instead—late-night movies, long drives to nowhere, anything to pretend things were normal. If you didn't talk about it, maybe you wouldn't have to cry about it.

But now, standing by the car, there was no avoiding it. The weight of it pressed down on your shoulders, tightening your throat as you struggled to find something to say.

Vada stood a few feet away, her hands shoved deep into the pockets of her hoodie, her posture tense and closed off. She kept glancing at you, then back down at the ground, her sneakers scuffing against the pavement.

Her usual confidence was nowhere to be found, replaced by a hesitation that made your stomach twist. You'd never seen her like this before—unsure of herself, unsure of what to do. And for once, you couldn't blame her.

"Did you triple-check your suitcase?" Vada's voice was quieter than usual, almost like she was afraid to disturb the fragile atmosphere that had settled between you.

"I think I did," you replied, forcing a small smile in an attempt to break the tension. "I mean, if I didn't, I'm sure I'll survive without, like, an extra pair of socks."

The joke fell flat, the lightness you'd hoped for swallowed by the weight of the moment. Vada didn't laugh. She just nodded, her teeth tugging anxiously at her bottom lip.

It was a tell you'd come to recognize over the years, a sign that she was holding something back but couldn't find the courage to say it.

The silence grew, stretching taut like a string ready to snap.

You busied yourself by fidgeting with the strap of your bag, your fingers twisting the worn fabric into knots as you tried to come up with something—anything—that might make this easier.

But the words felt stuck in your throat, thick and clumsy and useless.

"This feels weird," she said suddenly, breaking the silence with a hesitance that made your chest ache. Her voice was quieter now, almost uncertain, like she wasn't sure if she should've said it out loud.

"I know," you admitted softly, your eyes fixed on the pavement instead of her face. The heaviness in your chest pressed down harder, threatening to spill out if you didn't keep your voice steady. "But it's not like we're never going to see each other again."

You forced yourself to look up, trying to meet her gaze even as your stomach twisted with the effort of pretending you weren't falling apart. "We'll FaceTime every day. And text all the time. Nothing's going to change."

The words felt hollow even as you said them, but you needed them to be true. For her, for yourself, for both of you.

Vada's lips twitched into a faint smile at your attempt to reassure her, but it was weak, and it didn't quite reach her eyes. Those dark eyes that always sparkled with mischief, with life, looked dimmer now, weighed down by something neither of you wanted to name. "Yeah," she echoed, her voice barely above a whisper. "Nothing's gonna change."

But it wasn't true, and you both knew it. Things were already changing—had been changing from the moment you'd both accepted that you couldn't stay in the same place forever. Pretending otherwise wouldn't stop the inevitable, and yet, you didn't dare acknowledge it. Not here, not now.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, pushing back the tears that threatened to spill over. This wasn't the time to cry—not yet. You didn't want to ruin the little time you had left together by falling apart. So you bit your lip, forced another shaky smile, and pretended you didn't notice how Vada's shoulders seemed to cave inward, like she was carrying the weight of the entire world on her back.

"Come here," you said, stepping forward before she could argue. Your voice was soft, but the need to hold her was overwhelming, like it might somehow keep everything from changing.

Before Vada could say a word, you wrapped your arms around her, burying your face in the familiar crook of her neck. Her arms came around you instantly, pulling you in with a desperation that mirrored your own.

Her fingers gripped the back of your shirt, holding on like letting go would make you disappear.

"I don't want you to go," she whispered, her voice breaking in a way that shattered you.

"I don't want to go either," you managed, though your throat felt like it was closing with each word. "But we'll be okay, Vada. We will." You didn't know if you were trying to convince her or yourself.

Her hold on you tightened, her breath warm against your shoulder, before she pulled back just enough to look at you. Her eyes were glossy, the tears clinging to her lashes as if she was trying to will them away.

"You promise you'll call me as soon as you get there?" she asked, her voice small but insistent.

"I promise," you said, your hands resting gently on her waist.

"And if I start failing math, you'll tutor me over FaceTime?"

A soft laugh broke through the heaviness of the moment. "You're not going to fail math."

"You don't know that," she argued, a faint smile tugging at her lips, but it didn't quite hide the sadness behind her eyes.

The way she tried to lighten the mood made your heart ache. You reached up, brushing a stray strand of hair out of her face, your fingers lingering against her skin. "You're going to do amazing, Vada. I know you are."

She sniffled, leaning into your touch like she needed the reassurance as much as you did. "You'd better come home every chance you get."

"Every single chance," you said firmly, your voice leaving no room for doubt.

Her lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment, you saw her bite back the tears threatening to spill. But when she caught the slight sheen in your eyes, she reached up and swiped a thumb across your cheek before you could do it yourself. "Don't cry. You're going to make me cry, and I don't need my parents seeing that."

Her weak attempt at humor pulled a soft chuckle from you, but the ache in your chest didn't let up. "You promise to call too?" you asked, your voice quieter now. "You're going away too, remember?"

Her hand dropped from your face, brushing over your arm as she nodded. "I promise."

The weight of everything unsaid hung between you, thick and suffocating, as you leaned your forehead against hers. For a moment, there was nothing else—just the two of you, the soft hitch of her breath, and the way her eyes locked on yours like they were trying to memorize every detail.

"I love you," you whispered, your hands cupping her cheeks. Her skin was warm beneath your palms, and the way she closed her eyes for a second, leaning into your touch, made your heart squeeze.

"I love you too," she replied, her voice shaky but sure.

You closed the small distance between you, pressing your lips to hers. The kiss was soft, lingering, filled with all the emotions you couldn't put into words. Her hands came up to rest on yours, holding them in place as if grounding herself in the moment.

When you finally pulled away, her eyes fluttered open, and you could see the sheen of tears she was still trying to hide. You wanted to say more, to tell her everything you felt, but the words wouldn't come. So you just stayed there, your foreheads still touching, letting the silence speak for itself.

The honk of the car horn shattered the quiet between you, pulling you both back to reality. You glanced over your shoulder to see your parents gesturing impatiently from the car, their faces a mixture of understanding and urgency.

Vada's posture stiffened, her arms falling to her sides as she let out a shaky breath. "I guess this is it," she said softly, her voice barely audible.

Your throat felt tight again as you turned back to her. "I guess it is."

Neither of you moved at first. The finality of it hung between you like a barrier neither of you wanted to cross. But then you stepped forward, reaching for her hands. They were trembling slightly as they found yours, and you held onto them like it was the only thing anchoring you to the moment.

"You're going to do amazing," you said, your voice firm despite the lump in your throat.

"So are you," she replied, her words almost a whisper. Her lips curved into a faint smile, but the tears in her eyes betrayed her.

You let go of one of her hands to brush a thumb across her cheek, wiping away a tear that had slipped free. "Don't forget that, okay? You're going to be amazing, Vada."

Her lips parted as if she wanted to say something, but instead, she just nodded, her grip on your remaining hand tightening.

The car horn sounded again, louder this time, and you knew you couldn't stall any longer. You leaned in quickly, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. It was fleeting but filled with everything you wanted to say—every promise, every hope, every piece of your heart you were leaving with her.

When you pulled back, you cupped her face one last time, letting your hands linger before reluctantly stepping away. "I'll call you as soon as I get there," you said, your voice breaking slightly.

"I'll be waiting," she replied, her tears spilling over despite the brave face she was trying to put on.

With a reluctant sigh, you turned and opened the car door, sliding into the backseat. Your parents exchanged sympathetic looks but didn't say anything as the car started to pull away.

Through the window, you saw Vada standing there, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. She looked smaller somehow, more fragile, like the weight of the moment was too much for her to carry. Her eyes never left yours as the distance between you grew.

You pressed your hand to the glass in a silent goodbye, and after a brief pause, she raised her hand in return. Her figure grew smaller and smaller until all you could see was the faint outline of her silhouette against the fading light.

Even when she was gone from sight, you kept your hand on the window, your chest heavier than ever. You didn't let it drop, not until the first tear slid down your cheek and you had to turn away to wipe it before anyone could see.

___

The first few weeks apart had been just as hard as you expected, but you'd made it work. You clung to the promises you'd made that day at the curb, determined to keep things as close to normal as possible, even from miles away.

Your days fell into a rhythm before you even realized it. Classes kept you busy, and your new friends had a way of filling the quiet moments that might've felt unbearable otherwise. Vada, from what she mentioned during your nightly calls, was finding her own place too. She'd joined a few clubs—something about a film club and, surprisingly, a hiking group.

The calls became a lifeline. Some nights, they stretched on for hours as you traded every detail of your day until exhaustion took over.

You could tell she was trying to keep things light, often sharing funny stories about her classmates or how she got lost on campus again. It was enough to make you laugh and forget, even for a moment, how much you missed her.

She'd even complained once about her classes, mentioning how her professor's assignments were impossible. "I'd fail without you," she'd said one evening, after you patiently explained the steps to her over the phone.

It had been a silly mistake—she was reading the questions wrong—but she refused to admit it. You could practically hear her rolling her eyes, her exasperation softening into a grateful laugh by the end of it.

The weeks passed in a blur of busy days and late-night conversations. Every chance you got, you talked about the future you'd once dreamed up together.

It was still there in your minds—the house, the dog, the tiny details that made it all feel real. Neither of you dared to admit how much harder it seemed now, with your paths so far apart.

On the weekends, you'd try to watch a movie together over a shared screen. The plans rarely worked as smoothly as you'd hoped—buffering internet, lagging voices, or one of you falling asleep halfway through—but you didn't care. You'd laugh about it every time, finding comfort in the fact that you were still trying.

You were doing everything right, just as you'd planned. It wasn't perfect, but it was enough.

The weeks slipped by faster than you'd expected, and somehow, the distance didn't feel as unbearable as you'd feared. It wasn't ideal, but it was manageable.

You'd fallen into routines that made it easier—daily calls, texts whenever you had a spare moment, and a constant reassurance that this was only temporary.

You told yourself this was how it had to be, that the sacrifices were worth it.

Vada seemed happy. She talked about her classes with more confidence now, even cracking jokes about how her professor probably hated her because she was always five minutes late.

She teased you about how many new friends you'd made, calling you "Miss Popular" every time you mentioned another study session or late-night hangout.

And yet, there was always a moment in those calls when the laughter would fade, and the silence would creep in. It wasn't awkward, just heavy, like the unspoken truth neither of you dared to acknowledge. You ignored it, convincing yourself it didn't matter.

You felt like everything was as perfect as it could be—like you were both doing your best, holding onto each other as tightly as the distance would allow.

That night felt no different.

You'd sent Vada a quick text earlier in the day, asking if she'd have time for your daily call, and she'd replied with a short;

yh, same time as usual

So, when the clock struck nine, you dialed her number like you always did.

The call started like all the others had. Vada answered on the third ring.

"Hi, baby," you greeted softly, your voice carrying that familiar warmth, the kind you hoped would make her smile.

There was a moment of shuffling on the other end, the faint sound of fabric brushing against fabric, before she answered. "Hi," she said, quieter than usual. "How are you?"

"I'm good," you replied easily, a small smile tugging at your lips. "Tired, though. I miss you."

"I miss you too," she said, and you heard it in the way her voice softened, how she lingered on the words just a little longer.

"I was thinking about you earlier," you continued, leaning back in your chair as you held the phone closer to your ear. "You know that girl I told you about? The one in my ethics class who's always asking the weirdest questions?" You paused, letting out a small laugh.

"She completely hijacked today's lecture by asking if it's ethical to steal a gluten-free loaf of bread. Like, not just any loaf—specifically gluten-free."

There was a beat of silence before Vada gave a faint, almost reluctant laugh. "That's... creative."

"Right? The professor didn't know what to do with her. The whole class turned into a debate about dietary restrictions and morality," you said, chuckling. "It was so ridiculous I actually thought about texting you in the middle of it."

Her response was quiet, almost absent, just a soft "Hm."

It made you pause, your smile fading slightly. Something felt... off.

"How are you, though?" you asked, your tone shifting to something more careful. "You doing okay?"

For a moment, the line was filled with nothing but the faint sound of her breathing. Then you heard her take a shaky breath, the kind you'd heard before when she was trying to hold something back.

Your heart started to race. "Vada?"

"I, um..." she started, and her voice broke on the words. She stopped just as quickly, exhaling sharply like she was frustrated with herself.

You didn't say anything, giving her space to gather her thoughts, but your mind was already spinning.

Was she okay? Had something happened at school? Was someone being mean to her?

A dozen worst-case scenarios flashed through your head, each one making your chest tighten a little more.

"I just wanted to..." she tried again, her voice trembling slightly.

Still, you said nothing, waiting. You didn't want to rush her, didn't want to make it harder, but it was getting harder to breathe as each second passed.

"I was thinking..." she tried once more, trailing off again.

Your grip on the phone tightened, a sinking feeling settling in your stomach. The way she kept stopping and starting—it wasn't like her. And the shaky, uneven way she spoke made it clear that whatever she was about to say wasn't something you were going to want to hear.

But you stayed silent, holding on to the small hope that maybe it wasn't as bad as it seemed.

And then it started.

"I just..." Vada hesitated, her voice already breaking. "I don't know how to say this. I've been thinking about it for a while, and..."

Her words trailed off, and you could hear her take a shaky breath. Your grip on the phone tightened as the silence stretched, your chest knotting with unease.

"I've been trying so hard to picture the future we talked about," she began again, her voice trembling. "You know, the house, the dog, the wedding, all of it. But... I just can't see it anymore."

Her words were rushed and unsteady, tumbling out in a way that made it clear she hadn't planned this. "It's like, we've talked about it so much, right? All these plans we made, and I—I don't even know if that's what I want anymore. What if it's not? What if we've just been telling ourselves that's what we want, but it's not actually what's going to happen?"

Your stomach churned as you listened, her words leaving you more confused than anything. "It's not that I don't love you," she added quickly, almost desperately. "I do. I love you so much, but... I don't know if love is enough. Not with how different things feel right now."

Different? You wanted to ask what she meant, but you couldn't bring yourself to interrupt.

"I mean, look at us," she rambled on, sniffling between her words. "You're doing so well there, making all these friends, figuring things out, and I'm... I don't even know what I'm doing. It's like we're moving in completely different directions, and I keep telling myself it's fine, that we'll meet in the middle, but what if we don't? What if we can't?"

Her voice cracked, and she let out a shaky breath. "I feel like I'm letting you down. Like I'm holding you back from... from something, I don't even know what. And you deserve better than that."

The lump in your throat grew heavier with each word, but you stayed silent, your mind racing. None of this made sense. You weren't moving in different directions. You were both just... adjusting. Weren't you?

"And I know this sounds stupid," she said, her voice quieter now. "But I don't even know if I'm the same person I was when we made all those plans. I don't know if I want the same things anymore, and it's not fair to keep pretending like I do. Like we're both still on the same page.”

Her words were spiraling now, losing focus. "It's just—this is so hard, and I hate how hard it is. I hate feeling like this all the time. Like I'm failing you, or us, or whatever this is supposed to be."

You felt your heart drop as she sniffled again, her breath hitching on the other end.

"I've been thinking..." she said finally, her voice barely audible. "Maybe we'd be better off as friends."

And there it was.

The words hit you like a physical blow, knocking the air from your lungs. You sat frozen, her voice echoing in your mind, even though she'd stopped talking. Better off as friends.

Friends.

She wanted to be friends.

Your chest felt hollow, like the air had been sucked out of you. You clutched the phone tighter, your knuckles white, but your voice still wouldn't come. On the other end, Vada let out another soft, broken sob, and it shattered whatever was left of you.

The moment the words left her mouth, you felt like the floor had fallen out from under you. You sat frozen for a beat, her quiet sniffles filling the silence on the other end of the line. The weight of her words pressed down on your chest, making it hard to breathe.

But then the panic set in, bubbling up and spilling out of you in a frantic rush.

"Vada, no," you started, your voice trembling but insistent. "That's not true. None of what you're saying is true. We can fix this. We can figure it out together, okay? We always do."

She let out a soft, shaky "I—" but you didn't let her finish.

"You're just overwhelmed. That's all it is. Long-distance is hard, but it's not impossible. It's not something we can't handle. You're just—maybe you're overthinking, you know? Maybe you're just tired or stressed or something, but you don't mean this. I know you don't."

Your voice cracked, and you realized tears were already forming in your eyes. You swallowed hard, trying to steady yourself as the words kept spilling out.

"If it's about the distance, we can fix that. I'll come home every single break, every weekend—hell, every free day I get. I'll figure it out. I'll make it work. I'll come to you, okay? It doesn't have to be this hard. It doesn't have to feel like this."

"Wait, just let me—" Vada tried again, but you steamrolled over her, desperate to keep her from saying the one thing you couldn't bear to hear.

"And if that's not enough, I'll transfer," you said, your voice breaking now as tears started to fall. "I'll drop out here and come to your school. I don't care if my parents get mad or if they never forgive me. I'll do it for you—for us. You'd do that for us too, right? You'd do it if it meant we could stay together?"

Her sharp inhale cut through your words, and for a moment, you thought she might agree. But then you heard her sniffle, followed by a soft, broken, "It's not—”

"No, don't say it," you cut her off again, your tone more frantic now. "Don't say it's over. Don't say you can't see a future for us, because I can. I see it every day. I wake up thinking about it. I go to bed dreaming about it. I know it's there, Vada. We just have to hold on a little longer, that's all. We just have to try a little harder."

You were full-on crying now, tears streaming down your face as you pleaded with her. Your voice wavered with every word, but you couldn't stop. You wouldn't stop.

"Tell me what to do. Just tell me what you need, and I'll do it. If you're feeling like this because of something I did, I'll fix it. I swear I'll fix it. Just... don't give up on us, Vada. Please."

Her quiet sobs on the other end of the line twisted something deep in your chest. You could hear her trying to speak, her voice breaking every time she tried to get a word in.

"Y/N, I—"

"No, stop," you begged, your voice cracking as you ran your hand through your hair in frustration. "Don't say it. Don't say this is what you want, because it's not. I know you, Vada. You don't want this. You love me, and I love you, and that has to mean something. That has to be enough."

You took a shaky breath, your chest heaving as you tried to pull yourself together. "Please, Vada. Just... please. Don't do this. We can figure it out. Together. We can fix it. I'll do whatever it takes."

You waited, your heart pounding in your ears as the silence stretched between you. For the first time since she started talking, you let the quiet settle, hoping—praying—that she'd take it all back. That she'd tell you she was wrong, that you were right, and that you could make it work.

But instead, all you heard was her broken sobs on the other end of the line.

Vada's breathing on the other end was uneven, shaky, like she was trying to pull herself together. "I just..." she started, her voice so quiet it was almost lost in the static of the line. "I don't know if we can, Y/N."

Her words left a hollow ache in your chest, like the ground had been pulled out from beneath you. Your mind scrambled for something—anything—that could refute what she was saying. Before you could respond, though, there was a faint, muffled voice on her end.

It was brief, barely audible, but it was enough to send your thoughts spiraling. There was someone with her. You didn't know who, and you didn't care. All you could think was that of course this would happen.

Of course, she'd meet someone else. She was beautiful, charismatic, and too good for her own good. How could you ever have thought you could keep her?

Your stomach churned as the realization settled in, bitter and sharp. The question slipped out before you could stop it, a panicked whisper. "Did you meet someone else?"

"What?" Vada's voice shot up in surprise, defensive and almost offended. "No! Why would you even think that?"

"I don't know!" you blurted, your words tumbling out in a rush. "I don't know, okay? I just—I thought maybe... I mean, it would make sense, wouldn't it? You're there, and you're meeting new people all the time. And if you did meet someone else, I wouldn't..." You swallowed hard, your voice trembling. "I wouldn't even care. Not really. I'd be fine with it. If that's what this is about, if you met someone, then it's fine. Because that would mean you'd still want me, right? Even if it's not the same. Even if it's just... until you came back."

Your voice cracked, and you hated yourself for how desperate you sounded. You hated that you were putting this out there, offering pieces of yourself you weren't sure you could get back.

"Y/N, stop," Vada interrupted, her tone sharp but laced with something softer, like guilt or regret. "It's not like that. There's no one else. I swear, I wouldn't do that to you. I wouldn't do that to us."

Her voice wavered, and you could hear her swallow thickly on the other end. "This isn't about someone else. It's about us. It's about me. Please don't—don't do this. Don't make this harder than it already is."

But how could you not? How could you not fight for this, for her, for the life you'd both imagined together? You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came. Just the weight of her confession, heavy and suffocating, hanging in the silence between you.

This was what she wanted. Maybe not what she'd planned, maybe not what either of you had, but it was what she needed. Forcing her to stay, clinging to dreams you thought you both shared but she clearly didn't, would only be selfish.

The realization hit you like a slow, creeping wave, rising higher with every second until it consumed you.

And maybe there was someone else. Maybe she hadn't been lying earlier, but the thought lingered anyway. If there was someone else, it wasn't like she'd tell you.

Who would admit, "I met someone else and that's why I'm breaking up with you," to their sobbing girlfriend over the phone? It wouldn't make sense to expect her to say it outright, not when you were already shattered.

Your throat tightened as the pieces came together, the edges jagged and sharp. You got quiet, the silence stretching between you like a canyon, vast and unbridgeable.

Your palm pressed against your phone, slick with sweat, trembling as your grip faltered. Every instinct screamed at you to argue, to fight for her, but a deeper, quieter voice told you this was the end.

You forced a shaky, fragile smile onto your face, as if she could see it. As if she were sitting across from you, not hundreds of miles away. It was for her. Everything you did was always for her. You couldn't let yourself make this harder than it already was.

"Whatever makes you happy, Vada," you whispered. Your voice wavered, so unsteady it betrayed the effort you were putting into sounding soft, even light. You wanted her to hear you smile through the phone, the way she always teased you about. "I can hear you smiling," she'd say, laughing when you tried to deny it.

But this time, you weren't sure it worked. Your smile was too small, too forced, too broken. You thought you heard her gulp on the other end of the line, a soft sound like she was holding back tears of her own.

"Please don't..." Vada started, her voice cracking. She trailed off, and the silence stretched again before she finally spoke, quieter this time. "I don't want you to hate me."

Your chest tightened painfully as she repeated herself, softer, more desperate. "Please don't hate me."

You couldn't respond. The tears were falling freely now, hot and stinging, blurring your vision. You pressed your lips together tightly, trying to hold back the sob building in your throat.

How could she say that? How could she think you wouldn't hate her? She'd just taken the future you'd built together and shattered it like it was nothing. Of course, you hated her.

But then... how could you? How could you hate her when this was what she needed, what she wanted? If she didn't want you anymore, what choice did you have but to let her go? The hate wasn't real. It was a fleeting thought, something to make the pain feel less unbearable. But you didn't hate her. You couldn't.

The silence stretched again, thick and suffocating, and you could imagine Vada sitting wherever she was, clutching her phone, picturing your face the same way you were picturing hers. She sniffled, the sound shaking slightly through the line. "Please," she said softly, her voice raw and pleading. "Please say something."

You opened your mouth, but no words came. Just the tears, the ache, and the overwhelming weight of her absence that hadn't even fully settled in yet. But you had to say something. You had to give her something. For her. Always for her.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to try again. The first attempt had crumbled under the weight of your emotions, but you had to do better. For her. Always for her.

You pressed your palm against your knee, grounding yourself as you curved your lips into a sharper smile. This time, you were determined she'd hear it. "It's fine, Vada," you said softly, pushing every ounce of fake cheerfulness you could muster into your tone.

It almost sounded convincing. Almost. The words came out soft and measured, like you'd rehearsed them. For a fleeting second, you thought it had worked. Maybe you could trick her into believing you were okay. Maybe that would make it easier for both of you.

But then Vada sniffled again, the sound ragged and broken through the line. It made your heart ache all over again, even as you resented how much it still cared.

"I was hoping..." Vada hesitated, the words trembling. "I was hoping we could still be friends."

Your chest tightened, the ache deepening, but she didn't stop there. "Can we still be friends?" she repeated, her voice smaller, like she knew she was asking too much.

The question hit you like a slap, blunt and rude in its audacity. Friends? How could she ask that? How could she even think it was possible? Just minutes ago, you'd been begging her to stay, willing to rearrange your entire life for her. And now, she wanted to slot herself into a new, smaller role in your world, as if that would be enough.

Your throat burned as you tried to think of something to say. Anything. But all you could feel was the overwhelming sting of her question, of how casually she was trying to rewrite the rules of what you were to each other.

The silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating. Vada's question echoed in your head, mocking you, tearing through the fragile hope you'd clung to for so long. Friends. Friends. The word felt like it was twisting a knife in your chest, each syllable a reminder of how far you'd fallen from what you used to be.

How could she ask for that? How could she pretend like this wasn't destroying you?

Your hands trembled as you wiped at your face, trying to keep the tears from falling faster. It didn't work. Nothing did. Your entire body felt like it was collapsing inward, suffocated by the weight of everything you had just lost.

"Sure, Vada..." you finally muttered, your voice hoarse and hollow. You didn't even sound like yourself anymore.

You swallowed hard, pushing the words past the tightness in your throat. "Friends." The word was venom on your tongue, and it slipped out like a curse. Spat, almost, as if saying it was enough to kill you.

Vada's breath hitched on the other end of the line. "I really—"

"No." You didn't let her finish. You couldn't. Not after everything she'd just done, after the way she'd torn apart everything you'd ever dreamed of together. "I'll see you some other time, Vada."

The words came out cold, detached, as if you were already shutting the door on her. As if that would make this any easier.

You didn't wait for her response. You couldn't bear to. Your heart pounded in your chest, your thumb hovering over the end call button. This was it. No "I love you," like there was after every call. No "I'll talk to you tomorrow," because you knew there wouldn't be a tomorrow—not the kind you'd always counted on.

Just as your thumb moved to end the call, you heard Vada's voice again, small and desperate, breaking through your resolve.

"We can still call every—"

You ended the call.

Because you wanted to. Because you had to. Because hearing her voice again, hearing her try to piece together a friendship out of the ruins of what you once had, was too much.

The silence after the call was deafening. It settled in your chest, heavy and hollow, pressing against your ribs like it was trying to break you from the inside out. You stared at your phone, the screen still bright, Vada's name burned into your eyes like a cruel reminder. It was over. Just like that.

Your hands trembled as you placed the phone on your desk, your vision blurred by tears that wouldn't stop. Everything felt too loud and too quiet all at once. The distant hum of voices outside your dorm window, the faint buzz of the lamp beside you—it all blended into a cacophony that drowned out the ache in your chest.

How could she do this? How could she decide so easily that it wasn't worth fighting for? The future you'd both whispered about late at night, the dreams you'd built together—it was all gone. And for what?

You tried to breathe, to steady yourself, but every inhale felt like a knife twisting deeper. You'd spent so long believing in her, in the two of you. You'd built your world around her, every decision, every hope tied to the thought of her being there. And now, she wasn't.

The thought made you feel sick.

You pulled your knees to your chest, wrapping your arms around yourself like it would somehow keep the pieces of you together. But it didn't. You were crumbling, your chest aching with the weight of everything unsaid, everything you couldn't fix.

She was gone.

You wanted to hate her. You wanted to scream, to curse her name, to tear apart the memories that still clung to you like ghosts. But you couldn't. You couldn't hate her, not really. Because you loved her. Even now, even after this, you loved her with every broken piece of your heart.

And that was the cruelest part.

Because love wasn't enough to keep her. It wasn't enough to hold onto the future you thought you'd have. It wasn't enough to stop her from leaving.

You closed your eyes, tears slipping down your cheeks as the ache in your chest settled into something deeper, something emptier. All you had now were the memories, the fragments of what you once were.

Or at least what was left.

[drowning-in-paragraphs]

PUSH AND PULL

a/n: Hey! Sorry it's been a long time, but rn I have a lot of exams… While I finish them, here's something I've written before.

jude bellingham x gf!reader

warnings: they fight but happy ending! long af

summary: In love, mess is inevitable—especially when you're as stubborn as Jude and you. A fight breaks out, and with it, comes chaos. But instead of facing it like adults, you both become kids again, unable to stop poking at each other and pushing each other's buttons. Whether it's a teasing remark, a too-close-for-comfort touch, or a pointed silence, you both dance around your feelings, caught in the tension of unspoken frustration. However, when the stubborness between you becomes unbearable, one kiss shatters the walls you’ve both carefully built.

The flat was a battlefield of silence. Not the peaceful kind, but the sharp-edged, suffocating kind, where every creak of the floorboards sounded like an accusation. Jude sat sprawled on the couch, legs wide, one hand gripping the remote. The TV played highlights from some old match, but you could tell from the way his eyes lingered on the screen without focus that he wasn’t watching.

You also sat on the couch, cross-legged, your laptop balanced on your thighs. With the television humming faintly in the background, you pretended to be engrossed in your laptop, fingers brushing aimlessly over the keys. Your hair fell over one shoulder, hiding the way you glanced at him every so often, wondering if he would break the silence. He did not. What he did, was catching you once, his dark eyes locking with yours for a brief moment, before you both looked away as if burned.

The tension in the room was suffocating, as if the air itself refused to move. Neither of you dared to take the first step to break the silence, which stretched between you like an invisible wall. The funniest part was that, in a house so vast, the two of you had ended up in the same room, sharing the same couch, barely a few inches apart. It was almost ridiculous. Tho, you didn’t react. Not outwardly, at least. Internally, you rolled your eyes so hard it hurt.

The fight from last night sat heavily between you. It was the kind of argument that left no room for winners, only wounds. You weren’t even sure how it started. He neither. A jab here, a poorly timed comment there, and before you knew it, the words turned sharp, biting into places neither of you wanted exposed. And now, all that was left was this: icy silence and the simmering frustration of two people who loved each other too much to let go but were too proud to make the first move.

Jude turned up the volume on the TV—just a notch higher than necessary. A small, petty move, but you caught it. You gritted your teeth and opened another tab on your laptop, pretending to type while your jaw clenched.

He leaned back, draping an arm casually across the back of the couch, his shirt hitching up just enough to reveal a sliver of skin. A silver of his abs. You noticed—of course, you noticed—but you stubbornly refused to let your gaze linger. He was doing it on purpose, you were sure of it. The smug bastard.

To be fair, you weren’t entirely innocent either. You’d been wandering around the house all day without a bra, and you were well aware of how his eyes occasionally darted toward you before he quickly looked away. It wasn’t overt, nothing you could call him out on, but you could feel his awareness of you, just as you were hyper-aware of him.

In retaliation, you slammed your laptop shut, regardless of the tabs you had open. The noise echoed through the room, over the loud volume of the TV, and for a moment, Jude’s eyes met yours. There was a challenge in his gaze, a slight arch of his eyebrow, but he didn’t say anything. Then, as if nothing, you opened the device again.

After a while, your boyfriend, decided that now the couch was not as comfortable as it was minutes before and went to the kitchen. In there, Jude’s movements were deliberate, exaggerated in a way that felt almost taunting. He opened the fridge with more force than necessary, the door creaking loudly, and lingered there for what felt like forever before finally pulling out a bottle of water. He unscrewed the cap with unnecessary force, the crack of the seal piercing the silence.

“You could’ve done that quieter,” you muttered, not looking up from your screen.

He snorted, the sound low and derisive. “You’ve been so sensitive later.”

Your jaw tightened, but you didn’t respond. Instead, you tapped harder on your keyboard, the clatter of the keys a pointed counter to his earlier disruption. It was petty, childish even, but you couldn’t help yourself. If he was going to be difficult, you could be too. You knew he hated that, and when you turned back, you caught the briefest twitch of his lips, as if he was holding back a smirk.

The audacity of him almost made you snap again.

The minutes dragged on, and the uneasy rhythm of your coexistence continued. Jude eventually moved to the living room, sprawling across the other end of the couch. His long legs stretched out, nudging your thigh as he adjusted his position. It wasn’t accidental—you could tell by the faint smirk that tugged at his lips when you glared at him.

“Can you not?” you snapped, shifting slightly away from him. Honestly, even when you were angry, you still liked the warmth of his contact, but you knew that pulling away would bother him.

“What? I’m just sitting,” he said, his tone infuriatingly casual. But then he moved his leg again, deliberately pressing it against yours, skin against warm skin. This time, you didn’t move, choosing instead to act as if you didn’t notice at all.

“Sitting doesn’t involve invading someone else’s space.”

He didn’t respond, but the smirk on his face only deepened, as if he found your irritation amusing. Leaning further back into the couch, he made himself completely comfortable, clearly unbothered.

You turned your focus back to your laptop, though you weren’t sure why you bothered. It wasn’t like you were getting any actual work done.

When he grabbed the remote and started flipping through channels, the sound of the TV growing louder with each change, you shot him another glare. He didn’t acknowledge it, his gaze fixed on the screen as if he couldn’t feel the weight of your annoyance.

“Are you trying to be obnoxious, or does it just come naturally?” you asked, your voice sharp.

He finally turned to look at you, annoyed, raising an eyebrow. “You’re one to talk.”

The air between you crackled with unspoken tension, but neither of you said anything more. Instead, you both retreated into the silence, your mutual frustration simmering just below the surface.

By early afternoon, the passive-aggressive dance had reached new heights. You were in the kitchen, making yourself a coffee when he got up moments later, brushing past you as he headed to the sink. You could have moved, made it easier for him, but you didn’t. Neither did he. Your shoulders bumped, and you felt a spark of irritation—at him, at yourself, at the situation.

“Excuse me,” he said finally, his tone clipped but low, his breath brushing your temple as he reached over you for a glass. You stepped aside, not because you wanted to but because your pride wouldn’t let you linger there like some lovesick fool.

He filled the glass with water, the sound of it cascading against the sink somehow louder than necessary. His presence so close to you was suffocating, but you refused to move too far. He stood there for a moment with heavy eye contact after taking a sip, leaning against the counter like he was waiting for you to react.

You didn’t.

Instead, you grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl and bit into it, appearing uninterested. You saw him glance at you from the corner of his eye, and for a fleeting second, you thought you saw amusement flicker across his face. It vanished as quickly as it appeared.

The rest of the afternoon passed in much the same way—sharp glances, clipped words, and small actions that seemed designed to provoke the other. When Jude left his empty glass on the coffee table instead of taking it to the sink, you picked it up with exaggerated care, your movements pointedly loud as you placed it in the dishwasher. When you adjusted the thermostat without asking, he changed it back moments later, the beep of the controls echoing like a challenge.

This repeated a few times.

Neither of you said what you really wanted to say. The words hovered in the air, unspoken but undeniable, like a ghost haunting the space between you.

As the night deepened, the tension between you became almost unbearable, thick and suffocating in the dimly lit room. You lay curled up on the bed, your fingers mindlessly scrolling through your phone, the glow of the screen illuminating your face. At the other end of the mattress, Jude sat hunched over his own device, the faint light from his screen carving sharp shadows across his features. His face was drawn tight, his brows furrowed in a way that made the lines of worry and frustration painfully obvious. You couldn’t help but wonder if you looked the same—tired, distant, and weighed down by the silence hanging between you.

You despised this chasm that had grown between you, the quiet hostility that lingered unspoken in the air. The silence wasn’t a comfortable one—it was filled with an unrelenting tension, an undercurrent of anger and hurt that felt alien and wrong. This wasn’t what you had envisioned. It wasn’t what you wanted. You loved him, even now, even through the haze of pain and frustration that churned within you. That love was still there, steady and unwavering, but it felt harder to reach, buried beneath the heavy layers of everything left unsaid.

Jude shifted slightly, his movement breaking the stillness. His fingers brushed against your arm, light as a whisper, a touch so brief it was almost nothing—but it wasn’t nothing. The contact jolted through you, surprising in its warmth and its ability to remind you of what once felt so natural. For a moment, you both froze. The touch lingered, suspended in time, carrying more weight than such a small gesture should. Then, just as suddenly as it had come, he pulled his hand away, retreating back to his side of the bed.

The silence returned, heavier than before.

The bed had grown colder as the hours ticked on, the tension between you and Jude acting like an invisible barrier, keeping you both firmly planted on opposite ends of the mattress. Sleep came to you first, though not peacefully—it was the restless kind, with the occasional shuffle and murmured sigh as your body sought the warmth that your pride kept you from asking for.

Jude stayed awake longer, his phone abandoned on the nightstand. His gaze flickered toward your sleeping form, the soft rise and fall of your shoulders pulling at something deep inside him. Even in sleep, there was a tightness to the set of your jaw, a lingering sign of the frustration that had consumed the day. He wanted to reach out, to smooth the lines away with his thumb, to press a kiss to the crown of your head like he always did when you argued. But the memory of your sharp words, and his own stubbornness, kept him still.

Eventually, exhaustion claimed him, and he drifted off into a restless slumber.

Next morning, the dim light of morning crept through the cracks in the blinds, casting soft stripes across the room. Jude stirred first, his body stiff and warm under the tangled sheets. He blinked, disoriented for a moment, until he became acutely aware of two things: the faint scent of your shampoo and the fact that his arm was draped securely around your waist.

His heart thudded once, heavy and slow, as the realization hit. Sometime during the night, you two had moved closer, the invisible wall of your argument forgotten in sleep. Your back was pressed against his chest, your legs loosely intertwined, his nose buried in the crown of your hair. It felt impossibly natural, like the way you used to fit before the fight. His hold on you was firm but careful, as if even his sleeping self knew you were something precious, something not to let go of.

Jude’s lips twitched into the faintest of smiles before his pride crept in, whispering to him that this was just a fluke. He wasn’t supposed to be happy about this, was he? You were still angry—still caught in the push and pull of your unresolved tension. But damn it, holding you like this felt good. Really good. It felt right. He allowed himself one more selfish second to savor the moment before you stirred.

Your soft murmur pulled him from his thoughts. You shifted slightly, pressing closer to his chest, your body melting into his as if seeking his warmth even in sleep. His heart ached, and a wave of affection so fierce it startled him coursed through his chest. He wanted to kiss you, to tell you he was sorry for the things he said, the things he didn’t say. But pride anchored him in place, so instead, he lay there, pretending he didn’t feel anything at all.

You woke to the steady rhythm of his breathing and the unmistakable weight of his arm around you. For a moment, still caught in the haze of sleep, you sighed contentedly, nestling closer to the warmth behind you. It felt safe, familiar, and so achingly right that it made your chest tighten.

But then, reality crashed in like a bucket of cold water. You froze, eyes flying open, as you realized exactly where you were—and who you were with. The fight, the tension, the stubborn refusal to bridge the gap between you—it all came rushing back, drowning out the soft thrum of happiness that lingered from waking in his arms.

Still, you didn’t move immediately. Instead, you let yourself linger for just a moment longer, feeling the solidness of him behind you, the warmth of his breath against your neck. Your heart ached with love, raw and unrelenting, a stark contrast to the frustration still simmering beneath the surface. How could you feel both so intensely at once?

You wanted to turn around, to meet his gaze and let the love you felt show on your face. But the pride that had fueled your argument held you still. You couldn’t be the first to crack—not after last night. So, you did what you always did: you pushed the feelings down, buried them under a layer of indifference, and carefully shifted away.

You swung your legs out of bed, avoiding Jude’s gaze as you reached for your robe. He remained lounging on his side, his dark eyes tracking your movements.

“Morning,” he mumbled, his voice rough with sleep. It wasn’t quite warm, but it lacked the sharp edge from yesterday.

“Morning,” you replied, fastening the belt of your robe with deliberate nonchalance.

As you padded to the kitchen to start the coffee, Jude followed, his footsteps soft but noticeable. He leaned casually against the counter as you worked, his arms crossed over his chest. The silence between you hung heavy but was no longer suffocating—just thick with the remnants of stubborn pride.

“You’re not going to make me a cup too?” he asked, arching a brow when you filled a single mug. A smirk tugged at his lips.

Yep, that early in the morning.

You turned, lips also twitching. “Last I checked, you have two hands and know where the mugs are.”

That smirk persisted, and for the first time in what felt like forever, it wasn’t mocking—it was teasing. “Wow. So generous this morning.”

You shrugged, raising your mug to your lips. “What can I say? I’m full of surprises.”

Jude shook his head, stepping forward to grab his own cup. You moved to lean against the counter opposite him, your mug cradled in both hands. He stood closer than necessary, the distance between you shrinking inch by inch as the minutes passed.

“You were hogging the blanket last night,” he stated suddenly, breaking the quiet.

You blinked, caught off guard. “Excuse me? I was hogging the blanket? You’re the human furnace who takes up three-quarters of the bed.”

He scoffed, setting his mug down. “Three-quarters? Dramatic much? You sleep like a starfish.”

A laugh escaped before you could stop it—a real, unguarded laugh that felt like a balm to the tension still clinging to the edges of the morning. Jude’s lips quirked into a grin, the kind that softened the sharp lines of his face and made your heart skip despite yourself. You rolled your eyes, trying to maintain some semblance of composure.

The teasing was lighthearted, a refreshing shift from the icy tension of the previous day. But underneath it, the stubbornness remained—a silent promise that neither of you would be the first to openly admit you wanted peace.

Jude leaned against the counter, his coffee in hand, watching you with that maddening smirk. It wasn’t just his expression; it was the way he stood, as if the entire kitchen belonged to him, as if he were perfectly at ease and you were the one who had to figure out how to navigate the unspoken rules of this little game.

“You’re staring,” you pointed out, raising an eyebrow as you sipped your coffee calmly.

He shrugged, utterly unbothered. “Can you blame me? You’re kind of hard to miss.”

“Oh, please,” you retorted, setting your mug down and crossing your arms. “I’m not in the mood for your cheesy one-liners. They are not working.”

“It wasn’t a one-liner. It was an observation,” he replied smoothly, taking a step closer. His dark eyes sparkled with mischief as he added, “And besides, it’s not my fault you look cute when you’re grumpy.”

Your jaw tightened, but the corners of your lips betrayed you, twitching upward for just a moment before you caught yourself. “I know you miss me, but this is not the way of fixing things.”

“Miss you?” he shot back, leaning closer, his proximity making your heart stutter. “I woke up with you cuddling against me so…”

You rolled your eyes and turned away, feigning nonchalance as you began to tidy the already clean counter. “That’s not how... forget it,”

The morning passed in a steady rhythm of petty jabs and fleeting touches that neither of you could resist. When you walked past him to grab something from the pantry, his hand brushed lightly against your lower back—just enough to make your skin tingle. You shot him a look over your shoulder, but he was already looking elsewhere, as if the contact had been incidental. You knew better.

Later, as you stood by the sink rinsing your mug, Jude joined you, crowding your space under the guise of washing his hands. The sink was large enough for both of you, but he leaned in anyway, his arm brushing against yours, his warmth seeping into your skin.

“Do you mind?” you asked, tilting your head to glare at him.

“Not at all,” he replied with a grin, his voice laced with mock innocence.

You huffed, turning to move away, but his hand darted out to catch yours. The suddenness of it made you freeze, and for a moment, you just stared at each other, the air thickening between you. Jude’s thumb brushed against the back of your hand, a simple, unassuming touch that sent shivers racing up your arm.

But just as quickly, he released you, his smirk returning as if to mask the moment of vulnerability. “Don’t trip over your own stubbornness,” he said, stepping back.

You bristled, turning sharply to face him. “Me? Stubborn? That’s rich coming from you.”

The tension that had been simmering all morning suddenly flared, sharp and electric. That was what you both needed. “You’ve been impossible since yesterday,” he shot back, his voice rising just enough to match yours. “I’m not the one slamming laptops shut and stomping around like a child.”

Your eyes narrowed, and you took a step closer, your chest brushing against his as you jabbed a finger at his chest. “And I’m not the one deliberately trying to piss the other off!”

Jude tilted his head, his smirk fading into something darker, more serious. “Oh, you think I’m the one pushing buttons here? Newsflash, love—you’ve been just as bad.”

“Love?” you repeated, your voice dripping with incredulity. “Don’t you dare—”

Before you could finish your sentence, Jude’s hands moved, quick and decisive. One slid to the small of your back, the other cupped your ass firmly, and in one smooth motion, he pulled you against him and lifted you off the ground. A startled gasp escaped your lips, but it was swallowed almost immediately as his mouth crashed against yours.

Finally, you thought to yourself, something you would never say out-loud.

The kiss was hot and demanding, a clash of teeth and tongues that mirrored the intensity of your earlier fight. Jude’s lips moved against yours with a ferocity that left no room for argument, his grip on you possessive and unyielding. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, your hands finding purchase in his neck as you pulled him closer.

For a moment, you forgot everything—the fight, the pride, the stubbornness. All that existed was the heat of his mouth on yours, the solidness of his body pressed against you, and the way his hands gripped you like he never wanted to let go. It was messy and desperate and so painfully raw that it left you breathless.

When he finally pulled back, his lips were red and swollen, his breathing uneven as he stared at you with a mix of frustration and something deeper, something softer. “You argue too much,” he said, his voice rough and low.

You blinked at him, your chest heaving as you tried to process what had just happened. “And you—”

“No no, shhh,” he interrupted, his mouth crashing against yours again. This time, the kiss was slower, more deliberate, but no less intense. It was an apology, a truce, and a declaration all rolled into one.

When he pulled back this time, his hands lingered, one sliding up to cup your cheek while the other stayed firmly at your waist. His thumb brushed lightly across your skin, and the intensity in his gaze made your breath catch. His chest was heaving, just like yours, as if the kiss had stolen the air from both of you.

You stared at him, the heat of his touch grounding you even as your heart raced. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence thick with everything that had just been said without words.

Finally, you broke it, your voice soft but steady. “I’m sorry,” you murmured, meeting his gaze. “For… being difficult. For letting it drag on like this.”

Jude raised a brow, his expression caught somewhere between surprise and amusement. “Oh, so you can apologize,” he teased, though the smirk on his face softened at the edges.

You rolled your eyes, but your lips twitched despite yourself. “Juuude, don’t ruin the moment,” you warned, your tone light.

“I’m not,” he said, his voice gentler now. “Keep going, come on, I want to hear you say how wrong you were.”

Your laugh slipped out before you could stop it, and you swatted lightly at his chest. “Don’t push it.” But then your smile faded, replaced by something softer, more vulnerable. “I really am sorry, baby.”

His teasing faded as he looked at you, the sincerity in your voice settling over him like a balm. “Yeah, well,” he began, his hand sliding from your cheek to the back of your neck, pulling you just a little closer. “I’m sorry too. For being a stubborn ass. And for… picking fights when I should’ve just talked to you.”

You tilted your head slightly, your hands sliding up to rest on his shoulders. “We’re a real pair, aren’t we?”

His thumb traced circles against your hip, his touch impossibly warm. “We’re kind of great, though,” he whispered, his voice almost teasing. “When we’re not driving each other crazy.”

You let out another soft laugh, his breath warm against your lips. “You’re not wrong.”

The air between you shifted, the playfulness giving way to something deeper. Your lips hovered over his, your breaths mingling as the tension built again, electric and magnetic. You kissed him this time, slow but deliberate, pouring every ounce of affection and apology into it. His grip on your waist and ass tightened, pulling you flush against him, and you could feel the way his heartbeat echoed yours, fast and unsteady.

When you finally broke apart, his lips were slightly swollen, his eyes dark and half-lidded as he gazed down at you. “You’re a tease, you know that?” he muttered, his voice husky.

You smirked, the heat still thrumming through your veins. “Only for you.”

“Lucky me,” he murmured, his tone both teasing and sincere. Then, without warning, he bent slightly, sliding his hands down to your thighs and hoisting you up effortlessly. A surprised laugh escaped you, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he carried you out of the kitchen.

“Jude—what are you doing?” you asked, though your tone betrayed more excitement than protest.

“Making up properly,” he replied, his voice low and rough in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. “No more interruptions.”

You didn’t argue. Instead, you leaned into him, your hands threading through his hair as he kissed you again, his lips stealing every thought from your mind. Whatever tension had lingered between you melted away completely, leaving only warmth, laughter, and the undeniable pull of each other.

[revolutionsingingintherainnn]

Jamaai Ghar Aaye ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆

Summary: Lando and you go back home from your honeymoon. You hadn't realised how much your parents had changed in that short period of time.

⤑ ln x desi!reader 𔓘

⤑ fluff 𔓘

masterlist ☾☼

marrying lando had been a dream come true. it was something you hadn't expected, but god, you were glad it happened.

now, after not only getting married, but being back to india, to your city after your honeymoon really made you realise just how real the relationship was. the two of you had planned to stay in india for a week with your family, before going to monaco. lando had to begin with his training soon, and you had to get back to work. it worked out well for you.

standing just outside the airport, you quickly spotted your cousin's car, and the two of you dragged your bags over. your cousins stepped out, hugging the both of you, and put the bags in the trunk.

lando and you climbed into the back seat, where you rearranged the bags to sit in the middle, closer to where lando was against the window.

he immediately wrapped an arm across your shoulder and you leaned into him, holding his hand, enjoying the way your red bangles clinked against each other. he pressed a distracted kiss against your temple, his attention on the people outside as your cousin made his way out of the airport pick up and drop.

"so, how was the honeymoon?" your cousin in the passenger seat asked, turning from his seat.

you brightened up, and leaned forward to tell him all kinds of stories. your hands moved animatedly, and every now and then, lando chimed in with a part that you missed.

"are you pregnant yet?" your cousin asked.

your cousin in the driver's seat coughed loudly as he tried to hide his laugh, and you glared at him. smacking your cousin's arm, you said, "what kind of question is that?"

"what? the only reason you can have sex is if you're trying to get pregnant!"

lando laughed, "mate, how many kids do you have?"

"shut up! i don't have sex that often!"

"sure you don't," your husband responded, still chuckling.

"hey, stay out of my sex life!"

"you stay out of ours then! no no, better yet, stay out of your baby sister's sex life, unless you want me to tell you all about how i made her c-"

"no, no, no, no shut up! i don't want to know! i don't care! stop talking!"

everyone in the car burst out laughing. serves your cousin right.

all four of your phones buzzed at the same time, and you checked the notification. your mom was asking in the family group if you and lando were on your way yet. quickly clicking on the camera icon on whatsapp, and setting it on selfie mode, you snapped a picture of you and lando making goofy faces.

sending the picture, you let your family know that you were about five minutes away. all you got was a thumbs up in response.

tuning back into the conversation happening in the car, you realised that your cousin from the driver's seat was talking.

"there's a full daawat at home,"

"what's a daawat?" lando asked you softly.

"it's like a full meal. multiple types of starters and main dishes and desserts. that kind of thing," you responded, just as softly.

"why is there a daawat?" lando asked, his question directed towards your cousins. the confusion was obvious in his voice, and despite him slightly butchering up the pronunciation of the word, you still appreciated it.

your cousin looked at lando from the rear view mirror and smirked, "jamaai ghar aaye hai,"

before lando could ask, your cousin parked the car in the allotted parking space, and the four of you got out of the car.

lando fussed around with the bags, insisting on taking out all the local sweets that he had handpicked from your honeymoon.

"baby, we can give it to them once we go inside,"

lando shook his head, already holding the pile of boxes, "no. we gotta give them now. what's that thing you say when you buy chocolates or a bottle of wine or something when we go to someone's house?"

you bit your lip, trying to hide your smile as you said, "khaali haath kisi ke ghar nahi jaate?"

"bang on," lando said, and walked towards the front door.

your cousins followed behind him with the suitcases, grumbling about their weight.

before you could even reach the door, your parents stepped out, arms wide and smiling. seeing them instantly filled you with joy, and you opened your arms as well to hug them. your parents sidestepped you, and hugged your husband, taking the boxes from his hands and dumping them in your open arms, as they quietly chatted for a bit.

you frowned, and watched as your husband leaned down and pressed his hand to your parents' feet before touching that hand to his chest.

well, at least sanskaar acche sikhaaye hai tumne.

your cousins laughed behind you, but you ignored them.

settling the boxes, you greeted all your aunts and uncles, and you joked a little bit with your cousins as well. you kept a watch on lando from the corner of your eye. he hugged and laughed with the entire family, and you couldn't help but notice how much attention he was receiving.

it made you happy. of course it did.

when your aunt called for dinner, you insisted that lando begin with his meal while you freshen up a bit to get rid of the flight feel.

picking your bag and walking to your room, you began winding down. changing into fresh clothes, you tied your hair, removed all your excess jewellery, washed your face and did your short skincare routine.

once you were done, you walked back to the dining room, and slowed down at the scene in front of you. lando sat at the head of the table, his plate filled with different delicacies. your entire family were surrounding him, offering him more food, and feeding him if required.

with a frown, you sat on the other end of the table, where your cousins sat, talking amongst themselves.

you began serving your plate, and every time you asked an aunt or uncle for a particular dish, they gave it to you without even glancing at you, and it only made you frown more.

as you ate, you watched the special treatment your husband was receiving from your family.

"what the fuck is happening?" you asked lowly to your cousins.

they looked at the scene that you had been watching. your mother was forcing gulab jamuns in his mouth, and you could tell lando was loving the attention.

your cousin sister snorted, "isn't it obvious? jamaai ghar aaye hai,"

you scrunched up your face as you watched all the gulab jamuns vanishing, and silently wished you had taken two beforehand.

sighing you said, "i miss when i used to be the favourite child,"

your cousins laugh, "it always ends up being the jamaai,"

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

@partiallyderived this is for you! i got this idea a long time ago when we were talking about your dad basically seeing lando as his son-in-law. baba maan gaye ismein bhi ;)

lemme know what you think of it! this is my prompt list, so y'all can select a number, give me a driver and i will write it as soon as possible! i also have a google form for a taglist if anyone's interested! you can sent in your requests here :)

taglist: @imlonelydontsendhelp ; @greantii ; @anamiad00msday ; @maketheshadowsfearyou ; @nocturnalherb16 ; @justaf1girl ; @peterholland04 ; @phobiccneel ; @winkev1 ; @alexxavicry

[buecketsnbueckets]

face to face | P.B

summary: you and paige have been nonstop texting since that day she messaged you. a friendship is forming so what better thing for friendship than to invite her to stay with you for a weekend in LA?

pairing: actress!reader x paige bueckers

contains: tooth rotting fluff, a little bit of tension, THEYRE MEETING!!!

a/n: here’s part 2 of actress reader and paige. things are getting serious!! my inbox is open for more oneshot ideas <3 we’re gonna ignore how long this took me to write!

Interviews had died down now that you weren’t in any projects coming up. Yeah, you had a few more red carpets but there was nothing else for you to promote so you were pretty bored.

Your and Paige’s relationship was feverishly growing within the past two weeks. You were texting one another almost everyday and now that college was out for the summer, you brought up an idea to Rachel while you were relaxing as a little girls night with face masks and drinks.

“Do you think I should invite Paige to stay here for a few days?” You brought up as you took a sip of your homemade mixture of vodka and apple juice.

Rachel sat upright from your oh-so-soft comforter, her sheet mask nearly falling off of her face from the sudden rush.

“Like stay here at your apartment?” She questions, smoothing down the sheet back onto her face as she speaks.

“Well, yeah. I don’t want her to stay at some dingy hotel.”

Rachel hums in thought as she tries to think of a few reasons why it could be a bad idea but her mind blanked.

“You know what? Yeah. I say go for it. I want to meet this girl.” Rachel encourages as she motions to your phone that was charging on the bedside table.

As you scramble to text her, you pause your movements before turning to Rachel with a worried expression.

“Wait, what if she says no? What if she thinks I’m a weirdo because I’m inviting her to stay at my place after knowing her for almost 3 weeks?”

Rachel let out an exasperated sigh at your doubting thoughts.

“Don’t piss me off. Text that girl right now so you can plan it out.”

Before you knew it, you were driving home from the airport with Paige in your passenger's seat. You made small talk throughout the drive, warming up to each other’s personalities and presence.

“Here is my place. You can just set your stuff in my room.” You explain to Paige as you open the front door, allowing her to step in.

Her ponytail swung to the side as she looked around the space, whistling lowly at how large it was. You flush at her reaction and shake your head as you shut the door, locking it behind you.

“You got a nice place. Hollywood treats you nice,” the blonde teases your slight luxury apartment.

You motion to your bedroom with an eye roll. “Go and put your stuff down so we can get started on those pizza’s, Bueckets.”

She chuckled at your words as her tongue prods at her inner cheek and walks over to your bedroom, setting them by the closet door. You and Paige decided to make these flower margherita pizza for her first night. It was just three days you were getting her here in LA and you were saving sightseeing for tomorrow. Plus, you wanted to get to know her in person, not over the internet.

You don’t really know what you’re expecting from this weekend but you were more than excited. Once you have given Paige a mini tour of your apartment, you turn to her with a beaming grin, practically bouncing on the balls on your feet. It was evening now, a soft orange hue flowing through your tall windows as you played Spotify on the TV in your living room. Reluctantly, you allowed Paige to be in charge of that for the night.

She was the guest after all.

“So, I heard you like Shirley Temples so,” you motion for her to follow you to your kitchen, grabbing onto the cool handle of the refrigerator and tugging it open to peek into it. “I made you a pitcher of it.”

Paige’s jaw drops at the sight of the large glass of her favorite drink, running a hand over her mouth as she glances at you in shock.

“Nah, no way you did this,” she shakes her head in amusement as she reaches for it.

“I did, I did,” you nod with a proud grin, shrugging your shoulders. “I thought it would go well with our pizza’s.”

Paige thanks you with an absolutely giddy smile as she just drinks it straight out of the pitcher. You honestly didn't mind as you weren’t the biggest Shirley Temple fan. You giggle as you whip out your phone from your back pocket to take photos of her.

You had to pry it from her fingers as your hunger was taking over. To your surprise, the dynamic between the two of you was if you were childhood friends reconnecting after not seeing each other for ages. After you set down the pitcher, you pull out the dough from the freezer and the rest of the necessary ingredients needed; the sauce, cheese and basil leaves.

As you place the round pieces of mozzarella in the flower shape, you glance at Paige’s focused expression as she does the same. You purse your lips to hide how overwhelmingly ecstatic you were to have her here.

“So, how are you dealing with this,” you motion with a piece in your hand as you spoke, trying to find the right words, “attention you’re getting?”

Paige hums in thought as she looks to you as if it would help her explain it better.

“I mean, I don’t know. At first, it was so weird like people just know who I am and what I do. Most people are nice though. Respectful and considerate. I appreciate that,” she tells you slowly, her smile growing. “I mean, I definitely don’t think I would’ve met you without it so that’s a big plus.”

“Corny,” you tease as you shake your head. “But no, I get it. It can be overwhelming sometimes. I know how it feels. If you ever, you know, need someone to talk to about it, you have my number for a reason.”

Paige’s eyes round at your offer, nodding to herself as she takes your words in with consideration.

“Thank you,” she licks her lips before dusting off her hands as she finishes her side of the pizza. “I think we’re done, yeah?”

You nod in agreement, feeling a bit accomplished with the pizza. It looked almost exactly like the photo reference you had gotten from Pinterest.

“Wait, hold on,” you take a quick photo of the pizza and then motion for Paige to stand next to it.

She does so with glee, grinning and staring at you from behind your phone. You make it her profile picture with a shit-eating grin on your face and jerk your head to the preheated oven.

“Alright now we’re good. It says to leave it in for 10-15 so we’ll check on it then.” You instruct the blonde to place it in the middle.

“Yes ma’am,” Paige mutters to herself as she does as she’s told.

You stare at her bent down figure and shake your head as if it would be rid of the heat flooding your cheeks. She’s just being respectful and you were flustered like a schoolgirl with a crush.

You thought with your years of hiding these feelings you would succeed at some point.

Thankfully, Paige was too focused on not burning her arms to see your expression.

“So what do you have planned for me this weekend?” Paige questioned as she folded her arms and stood back up to face you.

“Well, I think we could visit all of the Walk of Fame, go to In and Out, maybe go to Santa Monica beach at sunset, very L.A things, you know?” You explain to the blonde with a giddy grin.

Paige nods along with your brief explanation of what you had mentally prepped with your new… friend? Yeah, she was a friend.

What else would she be?

“Damn, I was hoping to get a BBL or something,” she sighs in faux disappointment.

“Oh, next time, for sure,” you pat your shoulder to console her, chuckling at her words.

Paige whistles as she slightly leans closer to you. “Are you sugar-mommying me with your Hollywood money?”

You roll your eyes at her words but can’t help the smile itching at your lips as you point to her pitcher of Shirley temple and then to her pink lips.

“I’m going, I’m going,” Paige raises her hands up before taking the pitcher into her larger palms once again.

The two of you continue to talk all night as you feast on the rather delicious pizza. You wouldn’t dare utter the words yet but your crush was swelling on the blonde. Sure, yes, you had the two of you get along, which you did, but you were hoping that she would expose that she had a secret girlfriend or something.

Nope: free as a bird.

You pushed the creeping feelings back into the depths of your brain throughout the weekend as you didn’t want to center your feelings but her time here in L.A. With her, you weren’t really focused on whether or not you had to be insanely picture perfect every time you took a step outside or avoiding certain places due to paparazzi; you could enjoy every moment with her without second-guessing.

It was… peaceful. A breath of fresh air.

She even met Rachel when the girl had ‘coincidentally’ showed up at a coffee shop you two were at on Sunday. You knew she had your location so you weirdly weren’t shocked at all by this. The two thankfully got along. Rachel didn’t miss an opportunity to raise her brows at you, nodding in approval of the basketball player when she excused herself to the bathroom at some point.

“She’s hotter in person, dude. Good for you,” she whispers with a bubbly grin.

“I hate you,” you sigh but internally agree.

She was just irritatingly perfect in every way.

Fuck.

yourusername my weekend! 😝

tagged: @paigebueckers

view all comments

paigebueckers | I had fun I guess 🤣

↳ yourusername | never come back 💜

comment liked by paigebueckers

rachelzegler | i think i’m still blinded by the red lights 😵‍💫

↳ yourusername | shine some blue light to even it out 😇

randomuser | Not Paige hounding a whole pitcher of Shirley Temple😭😭

comment liked by author

↳ yourusername | JUST GREEDY🙄

↳ paigebueckers | You made it for me 💔

randomuser | this feels like a hard launch goodbye.

randomuser | NOBDOY MOVE?!&!-!&!1&2!

kamoreaarnold | Okay LA girl!!!😝😝

↳ yourusername | i fear she’s changed

↳ paigebuckers | Nah I’m still me 😎

↳ yourusername | alr cornball

comment liked by paigebueckers

randomuser | why is no one talking about how they literally had never interacted until almost a month ago and now they’re HANGING OUT??

randomuser | WE DID THIS GUYS!!!!

comment liked by rachelzegler

randomuser | RACHEL…..

williamskayla_ | Now i’m jealous! That pizza looks good 😔

↳ yourusername | i told paige to bring everyone next time 😩

TAG-LIST: @jnkbueckers @ch-3-rry @sayurireidotcom @numberonepartyanth3m @ddeonmixx @simp4women08