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classyrbf · 4 months ago

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Heyyy could I request Trueform!sukuna fucking his wife in his throne pleaseee!! If that’s okay

LIKE A QUEEN! — RYOMEN SUKUNA

SYNOPSIS...what better way to get fucked than on your kings throne

INFO...true form!sukuna x wife!reader, reader calls sukuna “my lord”, groping, nipple play, oral (f!receiving), double penetration, anal, rough sex, squirting, love bomb (from reader), sukuna is kind sweet (?), sweet ending, not proofread

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

thanks for the request anon!

The door to the throne room echoed loudly against the stone walls. Your bare feet hit the cold porcelain floors as you stepped into the room, the door shutting behind you. The eerie silence surrounded your cold body, shivers form down your spine as you take notice of your husband, the king, sitting on his throne, wiping blood off one of his hands.

One of the servants had fetched you from the room, said the king ordered you to come to the throne room for a talk. After being married for three years now, you know a talk meant Sukuna was feeling frustrated, looking to take it on you in a sexual manner. “Come.” His deep voice rang in your ears.

Your feet pattered as you walked over, nipples hardening under the silk robe you wore, nothing else underneath. “My lord.” You got down on your hands and knees, bowing to him, showing your respects. Just standing a few feet away from him, you could tell he’s been pushed to his limit. A low audible groan could be heard as he stood from the throne, walking down the steps and standing just inches away from your head.

Your breath hitched, anticipating the moments that would could in just mere minutes. What twisted position would he put you in this time? How many hours until he was done with you? “Look at me.” You followed the simple order, rising your head slowly, still remaining on your knees. You gulped, biting the inside of your cheek, his tall stature casting a shadow over your figure like a mountain. “I’ve had a rough day.” His voice was almost like a growl, yet kept a stoic tone.

“I understand, my lord.” You went to undo his robe, instinctively thinking he wanted you to use your throat first, but he stopped you. His large hand grabbed yours, eyes piercing into yours. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed.” You cast your eyes to the ground, wincing slightly when he squeezed your hand a little tighter. A small yelp fell from your lips as he pulled you to your feet, wide eyes staring into his. Your chest pressed against his, heart beating frantically.

He sighed, scanning your features. You stood there, unable to say or do anything. He was acting different, more quiet, less demanding. You weren’t sure what he was thinking—you never do. “Undress.” He pulled away from you, walking back up to the throne and sitting down, legs spread wide as he watched you carefully untie your gown. He rested his head in his hand, eyes focusing on the skin that started to reveal itself, before your robe dropped to the floor. A smirk lifted the corner of his lips. “Come closer.” He gestured with his finger. You inched towards the throne, afraid to even step foot near it as no one else but Sukuna was allowed to touch it. “Closer.”

You gulped, going as close at you could without wanting to be disrespectful towards your king. He leaned forward, one of his arms effortlessly pulling you onto his lap. You felt vulnerable, embarrassed. Everytime you’ve had sex with Sukuna, it has never gone this way. He was being so patient, leaving you guessing what’s going to come next. His hands cupped your tits, massaging them, squeezing them, playing with your nipples, tweaking them between his fingers. “Mmph!” You covered your mouth in an attempt to hide your moans, looking away from him.

You could feel his bulges press up against your wet cunt and ass, nudging against your clit each time he moved his hips. “Such perfect tits.” His words went straight to your pussy, your hole clenching around nothing as you began to grow needs for some sort of friction. But you knew better than to get yourself off without permission. “I’ve had a rough fucking day…and all I want,” he clenched his jaw, “is to taste you.” His two arms hoisted you up, sitting you on his face, holding you there on his shoulders. A blissful sigh escaped your throat at the feeling of his hot tongue darting between your folds. He growled, pinching your nipples while his tongue circled your clit.

You were caught by surprise, shocked and even more turned on than ever. It’s very rare that he takes his frustration out by eating your cunt and not fucking you till you can’t walk. Maybe it’ll be both. “Hah! Nngh!” Your eyes screw shut when he sucks on your puffy clit. He sucks up every last drop of your juices on his eager tongue, dark red eyes staring right into your soul. Without realizing, your hands reach for the tufts of his pink hair, grabbing onto it and pulling his face in closer, grinding your hips against him.

He lets out a deep chuckle, placing a sloppy kiss to your clit, his tongue fucking your hole while his nose nudges your clit. “Taste so fucking—mmm—good.” He pulls at your sensitive nipples, earning a squeal from you as you gasp for air. “Eager to cum, aren’t you?” He smirks against your pussy.

“Yes! Yes!” You nod, biting down on your bottom lip as you keep riding his face, his lips and chin coated your slick, glistening under the dim candle light of the throne room. “Please make me cum, my lord,” you beg, meekly. Just the thought of cumming on his tongue while being on his throne has your head spinning.

“You’ve been so patient—fuck—such a good wife to me,” he breathes heavily, savoring your taste on his tongue before he goes back in for more. He twists your nipples as his tongue flicks your clit, running up and down your folds.

“Right there! Hah! Ah! Yes! Fuck!” You cry out, legs quivering above him before you’re finally coming undone, tossing your head back in pleasure as laughs at the way you get so sensitive during your orgasm. “Nngh! Shit!” Your gasping, fistful of his hair in your hand while he drinks up every last drop. “Thank you,” you weakly mumble under your breath.

He placed you back down on his lap, watching the way you fall against him as you prepare yourself, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Go slow, please,” you whisper into his ear, anticipating the moment you feel his two cocks nudge against your holes. His large hands get a grip on your hips, sinking you down on his throbbing cocks. You’re already shaking, holding onto him so tightly. His swollen tip nudges through your soaked folds, the other slowly entering your ass, inch by inch.

“Always so fucking tight,” he grunts through gritted teeth. He thrusts up into you, pushing your hips all the way down until your hips meet, a long drawn out cry leaving your lips as you bite down onto his shoulder. “My queen, always treating me right—ah, fuck yes!” He thrusts his hips upward, the tip kissing your cervix as your eyes roll bock from the sensation of being fucked in both of your holes. “Sucking me in, milking my cocks,” he breathily says. His heavy balls slap against your ass, his nails digging into your plush skin as you mewl, moans echoing through the chambers.

He’s going rough, gritting his teeth and baring his fangs, slamming your hips down to meet his thrusts because you’re not allowed to run from it. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” you can barely talk, voice barely above a mumble as your brain turns to complete mush. Nothing else filling that head of yours except him fucking you. His hands pulls your arms back, allowing him to get a good look at you while plows your cunt.

He smiles as he watches the way you get shy, trying to avoid eyes contact with him but he makes it even harder when he has a good grip on your chin. You try and wiggle from his grip, but his sheer strength overpowers yours. Your back arches more as he hits your sweet spot, eyes rolling into the back of your head and your jaw goes slack.

His eyes are fixated on the way your titties bounce, snarling at the sight that was you, making him even more hungry for your pussy. He fucks deeper and harder, a cry leaving your lips as you struggle to take it, so much pleasure coursing through you, you were unsure if you had already came on his cocks or not. That was until you felt a liquid gush between your legs followed by a string of curses. “Oh my god! Yes!” You keep squiring the more he fucks you, Sukuna growing feral at the feeling of your holes clenching around him each time you do.

His thighs and abdomen are soaked, covered in your juices as he continues to hit that sweet spot over and over. You’re trembling in his hands, melting like putty, but he enjoys it so much, getting to fuck you like this on his throne. “You deserve this. Getting fucked on my throne like a queen should—like my queen should,” he snarls. “Fuck!” He pushes in deep, holding you there while you feel his cum fill up your holes, coating you insides before slowly dripping down his shaft. He thrusts up into you once more with a grunt, fucking his cum into you. “My fucking queen,” he breathes.

You fall forward onto his chest, head resting on his shoulder, completely exhausted. You can’t find it within yourself to move. “Thank you, my lord,” you weakly say. He removes himself from you, both of slightly whining at the loss of sensation. Though you’ve never done so, you take it upon yourself to plant a soft kiss on his lips, pulling away to scan his eyes. Without fear, you do so again, holding it for longer until he kisses you back. “I love you, my lord,” you say barely above a whisper. You understand he’d probably never say it back, but you’d like to think he’s shows it through his gestures.

“Stay here for a moment.” He holds you on his lap while you both catch your breath. His nails tracing patterns on your sweaty skin. He closes his eyes and rests the back of his head on the throne. Never once has he fucked any of his past wives on his throne, most of them didn’t even make it as far as you have. He’s starting to wonder if you’re actually something special, different. Your words ‘I love you’ is something he’d never heard from his past wives, nor from anyone before. He thinks they mean nothing, but hearing you say them sounds sweet, caring. He can tell you’re still scared of him at some points, but you still cling to him, find comfort in him. It’s odd.

With you in his arms he walks down the throne stairs, setting you on your feet. You look up at his tall stature as he grabs your robe from the cold floor, placing it around your body and tying it tightly. Without uttering a word, he lifts you back into his arms again, carrying you out of the throne room and back to his quarters, your shared bedroom. “We will clean together,” he says, breaking the silence.

“Yes, my lord,” you simply respond.

#—☆classyrbf #anime #anime smut #jujustu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk smut #sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #ryomen sukuna x reader smut #sukuna x reader smut #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna jjk #sukuna oneshot #ryomen sukuna smut #sukuna x you #jjk x reader smut #jjk oneshot

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chrissturnsfav · 2 months ago

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𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐇 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄

chris sees you walking around in nothing but one of his black fresh love hoodies and black thong. he can't help but stare, thinking about all that he wants to do to you right now.

ᰔᩚ smut, unprotected p in v (wrap it b4 you tap it), use of y/n, use of pet names (mama, baby, ma), dom!chris, bf!chris, teasing, dumbification kink, backshots, LOTS of dirty talk

ᰔᩚ w.c. 1,621

ᰔᩚ inspiration from fresh lovin' w/ chris by @pearlzier

chris is sat on his bed, mindlessly scrolling through tiktok as he waits for you to come back downstairs. you had left a few minutes ago to grab a drink, but chris was wondering why the fuck it was taking you a few minutes to get a drink.

your boyfriend is snapped out of his thoughts when you open his bedroom door again, returning. his eyes widen at the sight of you, the clothes you'd been wearing earlier had been discarded. now you were in just one of his black fresh love hoodies and your black thong you already had on, you're holding just a bottle of water.

chris scoffs, sitting up in his bed and resting his hands on his knees, licking his lips, "the fuck did your clothes go?" he says, watching your every move as you climb back onto his bed next to him.

you smirk, shrugging as you twist off the cap on the water, "i dunno. i got kinda hot, i guess."

chris chuckles dryly, looking you up and down as he takes in your body. your bare thighs, the way the straps of your thong sat highly above your hips, the hoodie baggily laying on your body—obvious that you rolled up the bottom so your ass was out.

he shakes his head, clearing his throat before speaking again, "you know what you're doin', y/n."

you chuckle, confused, pretending like you didn't know what he was talking about—knowing damn well you did. "what are you saying, chris?" you say in a sassy tone, putting the water bottle to your lips and taking a few sips.

chris kisses his teeth, looking at you with lust in his eyes as he shifts his position slightly close to your body. "tryna play stupid now? is this what you're doin'?" he says in a low tone, suddenly running a hand up from your knee to your thigh.

you swallow the water, shuddering slightly at his touch before speaking, trying to hide the way he was making you feel, "i don't know what you're talking about," you say softly, staring into his eyes as his blue ones pooled with desire burned back into yours.

chris smirks, his gaze not leaving yours as he rolls his tongue along the inside of his cheek. "yeah. you do," he insists. his hand that ran up your thigh trails to the waistband of your thong, tracing it along your hips and his smirk grows wider when you gasp. "barely even touched ya and you're already gettin' all worked up."

you shake your head, knowing he was right, but you wanted to remain calm and confident, "i'm not worked up," you lie, watching as chris' hand continues to trace the lace pattern on the waistband of your thong.

chris scoffs, looking at his actions, then back up at you before leaning close to your ear, "bet you're all wet down there. should i check?” he teases.

you swallow hard, shaking your head again, "i'm not, chris," you lie straight through your teeth, feeling yourself getting wetter by the second.

chris tilts his head, swiping his tongue across his lips as he looks at you intently. he chuckles dryly before his hand moves down to run his middle finger across your damp thong. he scoffs when he feels how wet you are, smirking as he hears you gasp at his actions. he leans close to your ear, whispering in it, "liar."

you shudder, gasping again when his hand moves inside your thong, running a finger through your sopping folds and he laughs dryly, watching your eyes flutter closed before he speaks in your ear again, "told ya. soaked."

you whine in response, gasping once again when his two fingers move to rub circles on your clit. your head falls back as chris watches you, his own crotch growing tight at the sight of you.

"p-please..." you whine with your eyes pinched shut, head against his pillows. he chuckles, his actions on your clit only getting faster, "what do ya want, then? tell me," he says, the smirk never leaving his face.

you open your eyes slightly, looking up at him, "i want...i want you to fuck me..." you let out through deep moans.

chris chuckles under his breath, licking his lips, "gotta ask nicely, baby. only good girls get what they want, right?" he growls.

you hum out a moan in response, nodding. "p...please, chris...please i need you now."

chris smirks, nodding his head as he takes his hand out of your thong, "atta girl," he purrs, flipping you over onto your stomach swiftly.

he pulls down his sweatpants just enough to let his now rock-hard length free. he pulls your panties down and off your ankles, throwing them across the bed. your head is pressed against the pillows, anticipating chris' actions as your body overflows with desire.

chris would normally be taking your hoodie off, but you were wearing his brand, and he wanted to fuck you in it. it only made sense. the thought of him fucking you in fresh love only turned him on more.

chris strokes himself a few times, humming quietly before pressing his tip against your core. you groan softly in response and he smirks at your sounds.

without warning, chris pushes into you fully. his lips part as a small moan leaves his mouth, earning a loud one from you.

chris picks up a quick and hard pace, watching as you moan loudly. profanities and his name fall from your mouth and grunts leave his own. he has one hand on your ass, grabbing it roughly and the other on the small of your back, pushing it down to force you to arch.

your eyes are rolling back into your head, brows knit together in pleasure and your lips parted as chris mercilessly pounds into you. "fuck...so fuckin' tight f'me, ma," chris groans and you moan softly in response.

chris' bottom lip was tucked between his teeth, his eyebrows pinched together and he reached a hand around you, pulling your head up by your neck as he leaned his body down so his face was inches apart from yours.

"y'like this shit?" he grunts into your ear, panting against your face. you couldn't respond, only able to focus on the pure ecstasy you're receiving.

chris chuckles out a groan at your expression, watching as you struggle to form words. "'s the matter, ma? 'm that fuckin' good, you can't even talk?"

you force yourself to nod, trying desperately to answer him as his hips only move faster into you. "m...m....y...yeah," you manage to let out in between heavy moans and deep pants.

chris scoffs, watching your face twist in overwhelming pleasure as you practically drool. "look at you. gettin' fucked dumb by my cock," he groans into your ear.

you feel yourself getting closer, knowing you're not going to be able to hold on for long if he asks you to. you whimper out a loud moan, chris' grip on your neck getting tighter. "c...c....chris....s...so close!"

chris chuckles dryly, moving his hand on your ass to your clit, rubbing fast circles on it as he continues to pump in and out of you, "mmm, yeah? already?"

you nod eagerly, moaning as your high gets closer and tears pool at the corners of your eyes at the immense amount of pleasure. "p...p...please...chris...i...can't....can't hold it...." you barely speak.

chris licks his lips, grinning a smirk. "nah, you wanna walk around in that thong wearin' my shit, bein' a tease?" he tuts, "nah, you're gonna hold it f'me."

you cry out a moan, giving everything you have to not cum right on his cock and feeling overstimulated as his thumb on your clit rubs faster. "c...chris! p-pleease...i...i can'ttt!"

chris groans, feeling himself getting close and watching as you struggle to hold back, "ya better not...hold up...almost there—fuck," he grunts.

at this point you're not able to hang on any longer. your eyes are rolled all the way back, mouth fallen open, brows pinched together as you ache for release, "chrisss...fuck! i...i gotta...c...cum! p...please!"

chris feels his orgasm seconds away as his thrusts get more and more sloppy. he moves his thumb on your clit off, placing his hand back on your ass. his grip on your neck becomes slightly tighter and he groans. "shiiit...cum for me, baby."

you waste no time in cumming all over his dick as you yelp out, face grimaced in pleasure. you open your eyes, vision blurred as chris continues to fuck you, helping you ride out your high.

"fuuck, you're gonna make me cum," chris grunts. he hardly thrusts one last time into you before pulling out, releasing his cum on your ass as his eyes roll back and his lips part.

chris breathlessly rolls over next to you, watching your body go limp as you lay on your stomach trying to catch your breath.

"fuck, chris..." you breathe out, closing your eyes in exhaustion as chris pulls his sweatpants and boxers back up.

chris chuckles dryly, looking at you with tired eyes, "wore ya out, huh?"

you nod, moving your body closer to him. he wraps his arms around your waist as you pull the covers over your bodies. you nuzzle your head against his chest, draping an arm lazily across his back.

"want me to get you anything, or you're good?" chris mumbles before resting his chin on top of your head.

you shake your head, eyes fluttering closed. "no...i'm okay...just take a nap with me."

chris chuckles, pulling your body closer to him and intertwining a leg with yours, "yes ma'am," he mumbles.

𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿'𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲: yay first smut woohoo (sorry if it wasn't that good, i'm still learning LMAO)! kinda sappy and i don’t love the theme but guys pls lmk if you liked this and what else you would wanna see bc i love love love feedback and wanna give u guys what u want ofc! this also turned out sm longer than expected lol oops...

thank you for reading!! <3

@chrissturnsfav ™

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #fresh love #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets #writing #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #youtube #sturniolo x you #sturniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #nick sturniolo smut #nicolas sturniolo

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thesweetestofdreams · 28 days ago

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hot chocolate

pairings: poly!marauders x reader (852 words)

warnings: should be none, just a little stress cry/ burnout

a/n: Do I like this? I have no idea. The boys help to comfort you on a late night that has you stressed.

Reaching out to his left, James expects to find your warmth. Instead all he feels are empty sheets. The fuzziness of sleep threatens to pull him back down, but your absence keeps him up.

He pads through your small apartment doing his best not to wake your boyfriends still sleeping behind him. The small spike of panic he felt at not finding you eases as he finally does.

You've got your back to him, typing away at your computer at the kitchen table.

"And I'm the one not allowed to have coffee after six," he says softly once he's closer. You hardly glance at him, still typing. "Love," he says, a hand gently coming to cover yours. "Do you know how late it is?"

Your heart melts as you finally look at him. He's rubbing sleep from his eyes, knocking his glasses off kilter. He looks warm and soft around the edges. It's enticing but your work's not going to do itself. "I'll come to bed in just a minute, Jamie. I should really finish this."

He points at the time on your computer, 3:48 blares at you and you realize how much your eyes sting from staring at the screen. "Come on," he says, his grip now a soft tug at your wrist.

"Just let me finish this paragraph." You're trying to bargain, having the feeling you'll probably lose.

"It can wait, love." He's looking at you with soft eyes and you can feel the warmth radiating off of him. You hear shuffling behind you. Now you're really in for it.

Remus comes into view, his oversized shirt- probably one of James’- askew on his shoulders, followed by a scowling Sirius. “How dare you make us go on a man-hunt at three in the morning.” Sirius crosses his arms trying to look angry, but he still comes up to rest his chin on your shoulder. His nose tickles your cheek, “Let’s go to bed my love.”

Remus walks further into the kitchen of your tiny apartment. You remember the day you moved in, you ate ramen over a cardboard box as a kitchen table. Now as he stands across the table from you Remus reaches over to slowly close your laptop.

You stop him halfway, and he gives you a knowing look. “I’m really not tired, honestly I won't be able to sleep until I finish this,” you say quickly returning to typing.

Remus sighs, looking to James for help, but it’s Sirius who comes to his aid. “Well then I guess we’re all staying up,” Sirius says, his chin digging into your shoulder and sleep muddling his words, “but when I wake up with dark circles that’s on you.”

“No go to bed, I won’t be long.” You try to focus on your work, but Sirius worms his arms under yours, wrapping around you. “Siri, please.” Your head is starting to hurt from forcing your eyes to stay open, and the warmth coming off of him only makes the fight harder.

“What are you doing, Remus?” you ask, hearing the kitchen cabinets open and close.

“I’m making hot chocolate.” He grabs your favorite mug from the cabinet followed by three more.

“You don’t have to do that Rem.” Your eyes are still stinging.

“I already opened the packet.” He says it with a finality that tells you, you’ve hardly any choice in the matter.

“I’ll get the marshmallows,” James adds, sounding far too excited for this time of night.

Before you can stop it your eyes fill with tears, blurring your computer screen. You hide your face in your hands. “Are you okay, love?” Sirius asks, suddenly sounding much more awake. You can’t stop it as much as you want to, your tears flow leaving your boyfriends flustering to help you.

“Dove.” Remus kneels beside you. “Let’s take a break, yeah? It can wait until tomorrow.”

You hear the soft click of your computer shutting as you nod. James holds your hand across the table. “You’re all too nice to me,” you say, it comes out half laugh half sob.

“All that work is scrambling your brain,” Sirius says, squeezing your shoulders.

You let Remus pull you to the couch where he brushes stray tears from your cheeks. You melt into his side. He plants soft kisses into your hair.

James and Sirius come with cups of hot chocolate almost overflowing with marshmallows. The cups are soon abandoned as the rich chocolate threatens to drag you all to sleep right on the spot.

When you eventually make it to bed through fits of yawns and tired shuffling, you realize you’re finally exactly where you want to be. Sirius falls asleep practically on top of James.

Remus pulls the blanket to your chin. “Too nice,” he laughs quietly to himself. You swat at his arm. As you fall asleep, he listens to the rise and fall of your breath. You deserve all the niceness of the world, and he would make hot chocolate in the middle of every night if it meant you felt even a bit of it.

#poly!marauders x reader #poly!marauders #marauders x reader #james potter #james potter x reader #sirius black #sirius black x reader #remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #marauders #x reader #marauders era #the marauders #dead gay wizards from the 70s #marauders fluff #I love Remus so much it's borderline hard to write for him lol

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seulw0nz · 8 days ago

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` ꣑꣒‎ ONE WIN, ONE DATE : 심재윤 ─── 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗃𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺 𝖽𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗂𝖿 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍

ʬʬ. football player!jake x cheerleader!reader 𖥔 ݁ ARCHiVE 7OO wordcount fluff . . . skinship, kisses ꒰˵ˊᯅˋ˵꒱ happy bday to jakey, && for my juni bby

YOU'RE STANDING ON THE SIDELINES, pom-poms in hand, watching jake tear through the field like he owns it. he’s got this intensity in his eyes, the kind that makes your pulse pick up because you know he’s giving it his all—just to win this game. all for one reason: he bet you that if he wins, he gets to ask you out.

it’s been a fun, flirty thing between you two for weeks now, but this? this is new. he made sure the whole team knew about his little bet, which has them teasing him endlessly about finally "making a move on his dream girl." you catch a few of his teammates smirking and nudging him before the game starts, and jake just rolls his eyes with a lopsided grin, eyes glancing at you every now and then. you swear you can feel his gaze even from across the field.

the game is close, way too close for your liking. you’re on edge, practically jumping each time he gets the ball, and maybe you’re clapping a little louder than anyone else (not that you liked him, or maybe you did). in the final minutes, it’s tied, and jake’s team has the ball. you watch as he gets the ball, weaving through the opposing team with an ease.

the crowd holds its breath, and so do you.

with a swift, clean kick, jake scores, sealing the win. the stadium erupts, but jake’s eyes find you instantly, a smug, triumphant smile on his face as he’s mobbed by his teammates. when they finally let him go, he sprints over to you, his eyes lighting up with joy.

“so…” he starts, leaning over, hands on his knees, slightly out of breath but still managing to look cocky. “still gonna pretend you’re not into me?”

you roll your eyes, though your cheeks are definitely giving you away. “who said i was ever into you?”

“i could tell.” jake flashes that heart-melting smile, moving closer. you’re aware of the other cheerleaders watching, and you’re definitely aware of his hand grazing your waist, lingering just long enough to make your heart race.

“oh, yeah? you’re that confident?” you ask, trying to sound unaffected, but your voice betrays you.

“confident enough to win a game for you,” he says with a smirk. “and i did say i’d ask you out if i won.”

“so ask away, sim,” you challenge, folding your arms.

he lets out a chuckle, his fingers brushing yours as if testing the waters. “okay, let me ask properly, then.” jake clears his throat dramatically, taking your hand in his. “y/n, would you do me the honor of going out with me?”

you’re pretty sure the butterflies in your stomach are doing somersaults, but you manage to keep your cool—sort of. “hmm… maybe. depends. what kind of date are we talking about?”

jake grins, squeezing your hand gently. “whatever you want. something fun. something that’ll make you smile like that.” he nods at you, obviously noticing the way your lips are curving, despite your attempt to stay composed.

“fine,” you say, relenting with a playful eye roll. “but only because you tried so hard.”

he leans in, closer than before, his voice just above a whisper. “only the best for you.”

your heart skips, and you glance down, trying to hide the way his words affect you. but jake isn’t done; he tilts your chin up, meeting your gaze. "guess you’re stuck with me now.”

“guess so,” you whisper, feeling heat rise to your cheeks as you realize he’s not moving back. his hand is still at your waist, his thumb gently tracing circles on your hip. the stadium is still loud around you, but it feels like it’s just the two of you here, his face inches from yours.

“think i can get a ‘good game’ kiss?” he asks with a wink, his voice teasing but hopeful. you roll your eyes, but you can’t hide the way you’re smiling now.

“don’t push your luck, sim.” but before he can respond, you lean up, giving him the quickest, softest peck on the lips. it’s barely there, but it’s enough to make his eyes widen in surprise and a smile spread across his face.

“you’re making me want to win every game now,” he says, looking down at you like you’re the only person in the world.

“i guess you’ll just have to keep scoring, then,” you reply with a grin, stepping back slightly, though your hand stays in his, fingers tangled together.

“oh, trust me, y/n,” he murmurs, tightening his hold on you, “i’ll be scoring a lot.”

909 notes · View notes

nadvs · 8 months ago

Text

cam girl (part twelve) (end)

pairing rafe cameron x female reader

rating explicit 18+

content warning alcohol use

summary you work two jobs. by day, you’re a maid for the cameron household, where rafe degrades you any chance he can get. by night, you’re a cam girl, hiding your face so nobody can recognize you. when you discover your new subscriber, the filthy-mouthed man obsessively paying you to do everything he can think of, is rafe, you’re not sure what to do next.

» masterlist

*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

Rafe realizes his hands are shaking as he rereads your text.

His eyes keep going over your words, standing up off his bed and pacing around his room just because the adrenaline won’t let him stay seated.

Why the fuck are you doing this to him?

i’m done. this is over. i’m not even a fucking person to you am i

Hot anger bubbles inside his chest. He immediately texts you back: what the fuck do you mean

Minutes pass. You don’t answer.

Rafe: ?????

Again. No answer.

Rafe: dont ignore me

He can’t take it anymore. He taps on the Call button. It rings and rings and rings. He texts you again.

Rafe: answer me

Finally, you respond: i dont need to listen to you. leave me alone

This has to be a cruel joke. Yet again, you’re cold to him out of fucking nowhere, after he thought you had a good time together.

Rafe recalls this morning, to the worried look on your face when you saw his black eye, making him think that maybe you see something of value past the wall he built around him.

He risked his pride by telling you that he always thinks about you, and now you’re done with him?

He texts you again: why are u acting like this

Thank fuck you respond.

You: i guess the slut got bored of you first

His body goes cold. He knows you’re referring to what one of his friends said. You heard that?

If that’s why you’re so pissed off, he needs to talk to you about it in person. He grabs his car keys and rushes out of the house.

Rafe is pounding on your door for so long that his hand is starting to hurt almost as much as it did when he threw those punches last night.

He feels himself teetering on the edge, getting close to the manic state he knows and hates.

He pulls his phone out to text you: open the door

You: ??? i’m not home

At this point, he sees red. He could break his damn phone if he didn’t need it right now. He calls you again, his jaw clenched so tight that it hurts.

His stomach tightens when the dial tone stops after two rings.

“Am I gonna have to block your number?” you say when you answer. The sound of a crowd and loud music buzzes in the background. He clues in that you’re at a party.

“Where are you?” he asks, head hanging, staring at the hallway floor.

“That’s none of your business.” He can hear a slur in your words.

“Are you drunk?”

“I can drink if I want to. I know you love to think you own me, but you don’t.”

Rafe swallows hard, shaking his head, squeezing his eyes shut. He heard your voice shake. Fuck. You’re crying and it’s his fault.

“Where are you?” Rafe repeats. “Let’s - we need to…” He’s stammering, anxious and unbalanced. “We need to talk… I swear, I’ll fucking wait here until you come home if you don’t tell me where you are.”

Your back is against a wall, the phone pressed to your ear. The room is loud and humid from all the bodies crammed together into one house.

You hate that you’re crying over him and you hate that he can hear it. As if his ego needs the boost.

“Why?” you finally ask, voice strained, hoping he’ll tell you what you want to hear. That there’s a part of him that cares about you.

Rafe is silent for a moment.

“Which one is it?” His chest is tight. He can’t say it now. Not over the phone.

“Neither,” you reply, then hang up. You know he’s just horny and possessive and mad. And definitely bluffing.

You shouldn’t, you know you shouldn’t, but you take another shot. Time melts away from you as you get lost in the music with your friend, determined to get Rafe and his drama off of your mind.

It’s half past one in the morning when you order a cab. The alcohol has almost worn off at this point. Someone spilled a drink on you and you just want to take a shower and sleep. You have to promise yourself that you won’t give into the impulse to wear Rafe’s shirt to bed.

You exit the elevator and your heart stops when you see Rafe sitting on the floor, his back against your door, his knee raised, his head slumped.

He meant it. He waited. For over three fucking hours.

When you get close enough for him to hear your footsteps, Rafe clambers up to stand, towering over you. His eyes sweep over your face, the blue in them even more prominent in contrast to the dark bruise over his right eye.

Even though your heart, the traitor, is thumping with desire, the ache of what he did to you is louder. It was barbaric, what he said about you. What he let his friend say about you.

“Why are you still here?” you say as evenly as you can.

“You can’t…” Rafe shakes his head, frustrated. He immediately notices you’re not wearing the necklace he gave you and his chest aches. “You can’t end this.”

“Watch me,” you say with a scoff, nudging past him. You feel him behind you, hear his shallow breaths. You unlock your door and pull out your keys.

He won’t move. You turn to look at him again, feeling your lips thin in aggravation.

“Rafe,” you state. “Please. I just want to shower and sleep. Go home.”

“No,” he says stubbornly.

“Why can’t you just go find another girl to fuck around with?” you say, raising your tone.

He almost feels nauseous hearing you say that.

“Are you worried you won’t find one who does everything like I do?” you ask. “I just can’t say no, right? That’s what you told your friends.”

Rafe looks down in shame, nostrils flaring. His lips screw up in anger. He has no words to offer.

“Go home,” you repeat. You’re sure he’s just upset about losing his favorite booty call, just so not accustomed to not getting what he wants.

Rafe doesn’t budge. You’re sober enough to know you can’t continue this conversation in the hallway and risk your voices carrying into your neighbors’ homes.

Frustrated and embittered, you turn your doorknob and accept the fact that he’s not leaving without a fight.

You turn on the dim overhead light and stand in your tiny kitchen, facing Rafe with your arms crossed, as the door shuts behind him.

He steps towards you, hands sliding up your arms before he leans down to try to kiss you.

“Stop,” you mutter, shoving him off, pushing him away.

He tries again, putting his palms on your cheeks.

“No,” you snap, driving him away harder.

Rafe feels hollow. Lost. He’s fine with showing anger. It’s second nature to him. But this? This tangled feeling of yearning feels impossible to verbally express to you.

“Why?” is all he can sputter.

“I’m not letting you use me anymore,” you say through gritted teeth.

Rafe had no idea you’d react like this over the moronic shit he and his friend said. He thought you were fine with how things were. That you were detached.

Despite the rage and anxiety consuming him, the fact that you’re this angry over this ridiculous idea that you’re not a person to him, that you maybe want to be more, makes hope bloom in his heart.

“It’s not like that,” Rafe says.

“It is,” you argue. “I’m done acting like I’m okay with it. I could handle it at the beginning, but…”

You sigh. You can’t give him the satisfaction of telling him you have feelings for him. You start to get choked up again, though, your body betraying you. You can’t hide what he does to you from him anymore.

“I’m done,” you say resolutely. This man is nothing but trouble. “My contact picture in your phone is a fucking nude. I’m just body parts to you and I respect myself too much to keep this going. Just leave. You won’t change my mind.”

“I can’t… I can’t not see you anymore,” he grovels.

“You’re just mad you won’t be able to brag to your buddies about what I let you do to me.”

“No.” Rafe brings the heels of his hands up to his eyes, looking so damn flustered. “I’m not mad about that. I… Fuck, it’s…”

“What about when he called me a slut to run through? You laughed. After he said something so fucking horrible about me-”

“Wait,” he snaps, tone rising. “Just wait. Let me talk.”

“Then talk,” you say sharply, shocked by his audacity to be the angry one here.

He takes a deep breath.

“When he called you that, I…” Rafe rakes his hand through his hair. “It’s how we always talk and I - I know that’s a shitty excuse, but I didn’t have the balls to tell him to shut the fuck up. And then last night…”

He vaguely gestures to his black eye. His mind replays the rage he felt when he heard the vulgar words used to describe you. The way his fist met his friend’s jaw. Rafe walked away with a swollen eye, but it was nothing compared to what he had inflicted.

“He said something about you and I beat the shit out of him like I should’ve the first time.”

“What’d he say?” you ask after a beat.

“It doesn’t matter.”

So, that’s what happened to him last night. You’re almost touched to hear he defended your honor, but the memory of the text you saw on his phone darkens your mood instantly, reminding you of how dispensable and cheap it made you feel.

“This the same friend who texted you about all the bitches at that party?” you say bitterly.

Rafe meets your gaze.

“You saw that?”

“Yeah,” you say. Rafe realizes that was the reason for your abrupt coldness. You were jealous. He hates that he hurt you, but admittedly, the feeling of you being envious over him is so fucking gratifying.

He sighs your name. He didn’t even glance at another girl last night. Why would he? “For fuck’s sake, I texted you all night. I told you I’m always thinking about you.”

“Rafe, you texted me about how all you want to do is hook up with me.”

“That’s not… that’s not all I want,” he sighs, defeated. How can he explain that the way he touches you is how he tells you what he’s feeling? He’s so fucking bad at talking about it.

“Then why did you talk about me like that?” you ask.

“I was…” Rafe begins. He swallows hard, his eyes refusing to meet yours now. “I know I shouldn’t have said that shit but-”

“You’re only saying this now ‘cause you got caught.”

“No, it’s - it’s more than that. I-”

“You were just being honest,” you say with a shrug. ��I did everything you told me to and you wanted to brag.”

“Yeah- I mean, no…” he stammers. Your use of the past-tense is so damn hurtful, the implication that you really are through with him, and before he can think to hide it, tears start to gloss his eyes. “Just listen-”

“If I’m just an easy fuck to you, then that’s fine, just own up to it.”

“Let me talk!” he finally shouts. Rafe’s head is spinning. He’s angry and anxious and close to losing his mind.

You don’t even cower, not letting him get to you. But when you realize he’s crying, too, your blood runs cold.

“Goddamn it.” He frantically brings his hands up to his head, fingers on his temples. “I’m trying to tell you that I didn’t know how to- I don’t know how to talk about this fucking feeling you give me.”

“Try,” you say.

Rafe’s breath is shaky, blinking fast as he gazes at you.

“This is more than sex. I’m fucking… I’m falling for you,” he finally admits.

No words come to your mind. The air between you is thick. Your heart is pounding in your ears. Your stomach is numb.

Rafe lowers his gaze, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He’s worked himself up in such a panic.

He doesn’t know how or when you cracked into this side of him that he didn’t even know existed, but you did. And you’re not leaving.

“Are you serious?” you ask quietly through a shallow exhale.

“Do I need to beg you to believe me?” he says.

“Yeah,” you say with a sarcastic huff, pushing him to see where his limit is. To see if he’s being honest.

You can’t believe what you’re seeing when Rafe sinks down onto the floor in front of you, his knees on your cheap linoleum. He takes your hand in his, pulling it to his warm mouth, soft lips kissing your palm.

He realizes he would rather lose all of his pride than lose you.

“Rafe,” you say, the edge to your tone completely gone now.

The shift in your dynamic is harrowing. He’s always the one in control, the one with the upper hand. Now he’s on his fucking knees for you.

“I’m sorry,” he says, eyes locked on yours. “I’m so fucking sorry I said that shit. I’ll never do it again. You’re not just an easy…”

He can’t even say it.

“You’re so much more,” he says. There’s hopelessness in his gaze. You’re rattled with shock, your heart feeling like it’s burning in your chest.

You can’t believe it. You can’t fathom that he likes you more than just from the waist down.

“What if I stopped hooking up with you?” you challenge. “I keep seeing you but it’s nothing physical. What then?“

“That’s okay,” he says, without hesitation.

“I mean no sex,” you say. “At all.”

“Fine.”

You pout at him in endearment as relief pools through you.

Rafe is racked with the deepest form of desperation. He can’t picture a day without you. Without your smile, your humor, your voice, your smell. He fell off the deep end and there’s no fucking saving him.

Your stare is puncturing him. He’s sure he fucked up too massively to earn any sort of chance with you ever again.

But when you finally lean down to press your lips onto his, euphoria rushes through his entire being. He frantically scrambles to stand, feeling his face contort with disbelief and gratefulness and a yearning so hard that it hurts.

Rafe’s kisses are deep but fast, his big hands cradling your head, thumbs rubbing over your cheekbones.

You pull back, looking up at him with a tiny shred of remaining suspicion that he’s not being genuine.

“Let me stay the night,” he says, voice low, lids heavy. You’re unsure that he really means he’d be with you even without the sex.

You only look at him.

“I won’t try anything,” he adds. He knows you needed the reassurance. You stare at him with wide, vulnerable eyes, resting your hands on his firm, heaving chest.

“Shower with me,” you tell him, restless to wash the night off of you. “And prove it.”

Rafe nods, your face still in his hands. Fuck, he feels like you have him wrapped around your finger. He’d do anything to keep you in his life.

“Let me do the work,” he says.

You step back, heart racing, and raise your hands over your head. His fingers quickly find the edge of your top, slowly lifting it and pulling it off of you. Your jeans are next, the denim sliding down your legs.

Rafe presses against you, leading you backwards into your bathroom. His lips press against your forehead as he unhooks your bra and lets it fall to the floor.

He’s on his knees again as he peels your underwear off. You watch his eyes trail up your bare body. He can’t hide the lust in his stare, no matter how hard he tries.

As you turn on the shower, you hear the rustle of him taking his clothes off. When you step into the tub, you feel his body against your back. Big hands skim up your arms as you turn the faucet, prompting hot water to rain down on both of you.

Rafe can’t stop himself from asking.

“Did you talk to any guys at that party?” His voice echoes against the porcelain, loud even over the sound of the shower.

You smile to yourself.

“How am I gonna focus on another guy when you’re texting me so damn much?”

“Princess,” he huffs. You laugh and turn in his arms to rest your hands on his shoulders.

“No,” you tell him. “I didn’t want to.”

Rafe smirks and leans down, but stops an inch away from your lips.

“Am I allowed to kiss you?” he asks.

“Hmm… fine,” you tease. “But that’s the farthest you can go.” He captures your lips in his, his mouth warm. You feel him grow against you and you pull away to look down, his cock already almost fully hard.

“Okay, I can’t control that,” he says. You meet his eyes and share the first laugh that you’ve had together tonight.

You pick up your body wash and hand it to him. It’ll drive him crazy to touch you like this and not be able to do anything about it.

“You get my body,” you say, admittedly excited to tempt him. “And I’ll do my hair.”

Rafe’s forehead crinkles in concentration as he squeezes the body wash into his palm. Your eyes are on him as he lathers the gel over your shoulders first.

“You’re cute when you’re focused,” you giggle, starting to massage your shampoo into your hair.

The sound of your laugh, the aroma in the air is so fucking nice to him. It’s so you.

His palms move up and down your arms in gentle circles. Rafe’s groin is getting tighter by the second and the fact that he won’t get any relief for it is agony. But he needs to prove himself to you.

“You ignoring my tits on purpose?” you ask.

Rafe cocks his head in mild irritation. Touching you there will only make him harder. You exhale in pleasure once his hands rest on your breasts, gently kneading.

“You can’t make those sounds,” he says, voice strained.

“I can do whatever I want,” you reply. His hands dip below the curves of your tits. You purposely moan louder than you normally would just to torment him.

His jaw tightens as he collects more of your body wash to smooth down your stomach. His hands slide over your hips, the water and soap making your skin extra slippery, and he lands on your ass.

“Massage me a bit there,” you tell him. He huffs an aggravated chuckle, then starts to rub into your flesh.

The crook of Rafe’s neck is at your chin as he leans to massage you and you plant a gentle kiss on his wet skin. The gesture makes his stomach twist with adoration.

“Okay, that’s enough,” he mumbles, running his hands up your back. You can feel him against your leg; he’s fully erect and pining for you to touch him.

“My ass is still sore,” you groan, continuing to lather the shampoo onto your hair. “You were so rough on me in front the mirror, remember?”

The memory of fucking you on the floor in his room makes his arousal skyrocket even higher. He exhales and smooths his hands over your ass again.

You tilt your head to the side as you moan. You feel Rafe’s mouth press against your exposed neck, then he grunts against your skin and moves away abruptly.

“Getting frustrated?” you whisper.

“No,” he lies.

The hot water continues to ebb down your body as Rafe squeezes your ass.

“You can get my legs now,” you mumble. He’s half-relieved, half-frustrated to have to move his hands.

Rafe rubs in circles over your thighs, his breath heavy.

“Get on your knees so you can reach everything,” you say as you wash out the shampoo from your hair. You’re testing him, ordering him around like he usually does to you, seeing if he’ll crack.

When he kneels down, you hike your leg up onto the tub, your middle inches away from his face.

“Fuck,” he breathes, wishing he could just taste you. His hands are sliding down your calves as he gawks at the beauty between your legs, knowing you’re purposely tempting him.

His eyes trail up to your face. He looks ravenous for you.

Falling for you. He said he was falling for you.

“What?” you say with a smile. Rafe only shakes his head, continuing to run his hands over your legs.

“I said kissing is allowed,” you say, revelling in this feeling of control over him.

He doesn’t waste a second. His lips are against your pussy immediately, kissing you over and over. If you tried to keep count of how many kisses he was planting on you, you’d fail in seconds.

Arousal twists deep inside you, wanting him so badly, but loving the game you’re playing.

His lips wrap around your clit and he starts to suck, prompting you push your fingers through his hair, damp from the shower, and tug to pull him off of you.

“Kisses only,” you say. “Unless you didn’t mean what you said?”

“I did,” he huffs. He roughly shoves your wrist away to get close to you again, lips puckered. You feel his fingers ghost over your inner thighs, then pull apart your lips.

“Can I spread you open, baby?” he asks.

“No,” you respond.

“Please,” he begs.

“Kisses. Only.”

He groans. You laugh.

“You got me so turned on,” you moan. “I need to just…”

You slip your fingers between his mouth and your clit, denying him any more access.

Rafe thinks this could be thing to that finally makes him lose his fucking mind. But he stays still, knees aching from the hard tub, as you play with yourself right in front of him.

“That feels so nice,” you whisper, your knees weak. You put your other hand against the shower wall, looking down at him.

“Hold me up,” you order. He grips your hips and watches you moan and writhe over him, dipping your head back.

You dip a finger inside of you, tightening and sighing.

“Fuck.” He literally whimpers the word.

“God, there’s so many things I can think about while I touch myself,” you moan. “Like when we fucked in your car? Or when I squirted on you?”

“Which time?” he mutters, trying to have any sort of power right now by reminding you of what he can do to you.

“Aw,” you coo. “Is this like when I’m on camera? You can watch but you can’t touch me?”

“Shit,” Rafe breathes. You moan, the water dripping off of you.

He has to look away at this point. His cock is so hard that it hurts. His eyes go low, seeing a bead of precum on his swollen tip. He tries to comfort himself by thinking about how he can jerk off later.

“Get up,” you say. He brings himself up on his feet, towering over you again.

You turn your back to him again and start to rub your scalp to make sure you washed all the shampoo out.

“You’re probably cold on that side, hmm?” you ask.

Rafe’s temperature is the least of his concerns.

“I’ll keep you warm,” you tell him, looking over your shoulder. You run your hands down your body and pause over your ass, spreading yourself open.

“Put your cock right here,” you tell him.

“I- I can’t,” he moans.

“You can,” you encourage.

He kneels to place himself right where you want him. You let go, your asscheeks hugging him, feeling his length pressed up against you.

“Fuck,” he whispers, twitching against you. “This is… fuck…”

“If you didn’t mean that you can be with me without the sex, just say so.”

“I meant it,” he says. “But this is torture. I need to go. I’ll wait for you in your room, okay?”

“You can’t keep it together for me?” you tease. “I thought you liked me.”

“I fucking love you,” Rafe groans, making your heart flutter.

You’re done playing this game. You need him now.

You turn to face him, pulling him down with your hands cupping his neck to kiss him. He’s biting your bottom lip, kissing you hard.

“We don’t have to do this,” he whispers breathlessly.

“I want to,” you say against his lips, wrapping your hand around his cock. “What do you want?” He bucks up against you, groaning.

“I wanna fuck you,” he pleads.

“Then fuck me.”

Rafe’s rough and fast as he hitches your leg up, pushing you to lean against the shower wall. He lines himself up at your cunt, stretching you so much nicer than your fingers ever could.

He keeps his eyes on you when he thrusts into you, his expression both needy and satisfied.

“Thank you,” he whispers. The feeling of him thanking you for letting him be inside you hits you like a drug.

Rafe is in heaven. You squeeze him so fucking good as he rocks in and out of you. He needs to make you cum before he does. You deserve it. You deserve all the pleasure in the world.

When he starts to rub his thumb over your clit, you’re trembling with bliss. Everything in this moment feels so damn good.

“You’re my girl,” he mumbles, his usual possessive side back now. “Say it.”

“I’m your girl,” you respond. “Fuck… I love you.”

Rafe is sure he has never felt happier in his life. His thrusts get harder and faster, and with the pressure on your clit and the hot water coating your body, you whine through your orgasm.

To him, it’s a gift watching you reach your peak. You clench around him in rhythmic flutters and he can’t hold back anymore, his cum gushing out of him so fucking hard that he sees stars.

This is the best sex he’s ever had. Because now he knows it’s more than just something physical for both of you.

He kisses you hard as his body trembles, pumping into you. His forehead is against yours as you pant together and even though he’s exhausted, he stays inside you as long as he can manage.

When he pulls out, he brings his hands to your cheeks and kisses you again.

“You meant that?” he asks. He needs to know you that really do love him. That it wasn’t a heat of the moment thing. You look up at him, his lips parted, the water dripping down his face.

“Yes,” you say. His dimples are deep in his cheeks as he smiles at you.

As Rafe helps you clean up, he’s pissed at himself that he never did this before. He hates that you had to always do this alone. He won’t ever let that happen again.

Once you’re both lying in your bed, your bedroom dark save for a streetlamp casting a dull light through the window, Rafe holds you tight.

Your cheek is against his shoulder as he surrounds you in his arms. You both remained naked and the feeling of your bare bodies pressed together like this is perfection.

You softly trace your finger over the bruise covering his eye. The one his friend left on him because of something he said about you.

“What’d he say?” you ask.

“I’m not repeating it,” Rafe replies.

“Please?” you ask. “I wanna know what made you go crazy.”

“He said I seem happier lately,” Rafe says. “And before I told him it was because I wanna… be with you for real, he said… he wants to see if he could get…”

“God,” you mutter, rolling your eyes. He doesn’t have to say any more. His buddy wanted a turn with you.

“But hey, I’m not gonna let anyone say anything like that about you, okay?” he promises. “I’ll beat the shit out of anyone who tries to.”

You picture being out in public with Rafe, his arm around you. And you can’t help but ask. You need to know.

“So… are you gonna… want me around your friends and stuff?” you ask.

“Of course,” he tells you, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re my girl, right?”

It’s jarring. You’re not a lower-class maid to him. Not his personal whore. Not his slutty sugar baby. You’re a woman he loves.

Legs tangled, you fall asleep together, and you adore that the worry of falling for him is now gone. Because you’re in love, and so is he, and now you can enjoy him without telling yourself you can’t.

When you wake up the next morning, you shuffle in your position to find him, but you’re alone.

Your heart drops. Could he have been faking…?

You can’t jump to that conclusion. You’re about to check your phone when you hear crinkling coming from the kitchen.

You put on underwear and the shirt you stole from him a while ago before padding into the kitchen. He’s standing over your table, removing containers from bags.

You realize it’s from your favorite nearby bistro. He ordered food for you.

“Breakfast?” you ask. Rafe looks up at you and he doesn’t understand how every time he sees you, you strike him with how adorable you are.

“You hungry?” he says.

You settle across from him at the table. You realize he must have referenced the screenshot you sent him after the first night that he stayed over, when he sent you money to order breakfast and you sent him proof of what you bought.

As you dig into your food, you gaze at him. Blue eyes meet yours. He smirks. It doesn’t feel real. He used to look so out of place in your apartment, but this feels so natural.

“We gonna talk about how much of a cuddler you are?” you tease.

“Shut up,” he laughs. “Eat your food.”

You laugh and continue to chew.

“What do you have to do today?” he asks.

“I should study,” you say. “I was going to last night after work, but you know…”

Rafe looks down and his Adam’s apple bobs with his hard swallow.

“Are you gonna keep working?” he asks. “I don’t want you to. I wanna take care of you.”

As much as he loves seeing you around his house twice a week, he’s been getting more and more uncomfortable with the idea of you having to work so hard, having to clean up after him.

“Yeah,” you finally say. “I think I need to have the independence. To know I’m working for my own money. Does that make sense?”

“With your attitude? Yeah,” he says. You laugh.

You hope the gossip between your coworkers doesn’t get any farther up the chain. For now, you want to keep your job and the steadiness it promises.

“You can’t pull me away from my work to hook up whenever you want, though, okay?” you say.

“Even when I find you in my bed?” he asks.

“That was one time,” you scoff.

Rafe leans over to place his phone in front of you. He has your contact info up. The photo isn’t what it was before, though. It’s a photo of you sleeping, cheek pressed on his chest.

He must have taken it this morning. He wants to prove you’re not just a body to him.

Your eyes study his screen and you smile, oblivious to the fact that he’s staring at you.

But then again, you never really noticed how much he looked at you whenever you came to work at the house.

He can still remember the rush he felt when he randomly found you on that damn website. You were a fucking fantasy to him, a dream that he never thought he’d get to live out.

But here you are and by some crazy stroke of luck, you found something in him worth loving.

Rafe always enjoyed having some sort of ownership over you, claiming you as his. Because deep down, he always kind of knew he belonged to you. Whether you want him or not, he’s yours.

(the end) (continuation blurbs)

author’s note: THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR ALL THE LOVE AND SUPPORT FOR THIS SERIES 💘 it’s so bittersweet ending it. i had so much fun writing this and it’s because of your comments and messages 😭 i’ll be writing more fics! if you want updates, please follow @xorafe-library and turn on notifications since i’ll be reblogging my work there. love you all!!!

#BRACE YOURSELVES THIS POST IS LONGGG #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #rafe x reader #obx smut #rafe x you #rafe fanfic #rafe fanfiction #rafe smut #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron and y/n #rafe cameron and reader

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endless-ineffabilities · 5 months ago

Text

chemical override (2)

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n : aaand I just couldn't let this storyline go. Typical. Best to read part one before this one :)

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

The reader and Ewan have gotten a lot closer since the press tour for season two, but neither one has made a move. The reader is spotted with another costar, giving rise to rumours of romance.

The press tour came and went like a fever dream. From Paris to New York to London, everyone had been highly anticipating your upcoming show.

Albeit you had a minor role, it all seemed like everything you could ever wish for.

A blossoming career. Lifelong friends made from your peers. The overwhelming support from audiences.

Only two episodes have since been released to the public, and already your character has become a fan-favourite.

Sadly, you and Ewan only had that one press day together, after which you were paired with other cast members. That didn't stop the onslaught of comments under your interviews with him, fans stating how good you looked together. Speculating whether there was something going on between you two.

You are good friends, but that's all.

He calls you often, mostly in the evenings after you're both finished with work. He sticks close to you during premiere after-parties. Now and again, you would catch him looking at you from across the room.

But... well... that's all there is to that.

Maybe he's just being nice. Maybe he only sees you as a good friend, and this is just how he is. With his effortless charm and cheeky remarks that can be mistaken as flirting, you think that maybe you're reading too much into it all.

"Ewan likes you, you know," Phia looks at you over her shoulder, as she does her makeup in front of your dresser.

The cast is having a private get-together in Fabien's apartment for a night, and yourself and Phia decide to prep together, her own place only being five minutes away from yours.

"He's just being nice," you shake your head at her observation, as you sift through your closet looking for a top.

"He's not that nice to everyone," Phia laughs. "Trust me, that lad fancies you and it's plain as day. Ask anyone, I mean, Tom even pointed it out the other day."

"And Ewan was there with you guys?"

"Uh-huh," Phia swivels her chair around, all done, nodding at you, "Poor sod just about turned red as a beet."

"What did he say?" you ask, not even bothering to hide your curiosity. Phia's got your back, after all.

"Well..." Phia glanced away, weighing just how much she is at liberty to say. Ewan's her friend just as much as you are, and she doesn't know how deep she can meddle in this.

"How bad is it?"

"Nothing bad, promise," Phia walks over, then takes over the task of sorting through your closet, "He likes you. A lot. But it seems like he's apprehensive about jumping into a relationship right now."

You plop down on your bed in a huff, "I guess that makes sense."

"Chin up, darling," Phia turns around, arms folded behind her, concealing her chosen top for you. "You're both rising stars, with great careers ahead of you. If you're going to commit to each other, you're gonna have to do it right."

You smile, because you can't help it, the high from landing your dream career not yet subsiding.

"And," Phia continues, "even if he's too chicken to make a move, that doesn't mean you can't torture him with this." She grins, presenting a green satin top, the material weightless and shimmering.

"This? Are you sure?" It was definitely revealing, and it would have your back exposed, only tied together by two strings.

"Ewan loves green," she hands it to you, and you hold it up with concern etched in your features.

"I guess I could wear this," you mumble.

"Oh, you will wear it," Phia smirks, pushing you over to your bathroom so you can get changed.

Already wearing your trusty pair of bootcut jeans, you shimmy into the slinky top, calling out to Phia so she can assist with securing the strings at your back.

"You look absolutely gorgeous," she beams at you in your bathroom mirror. "Ewan is going to melt at the sight of you, doll."

"Huh," you say, checking yourself out in the reflection. "Okay then, I think we're ready - "

Your phone rings, cutting you off. Phia beats you to it, and her face is scandalous when she raises your phone up like it's precious evidence.

Ewan's name flashes bright on the screen.

"Oh, look who it is!" Phia practically sings, "Lover boy."

"Give me that," you demand, reaching for your phone, but Phia quickly sidesteps you and presses the screen to answer the call.

You gasp, and the both of you struggle to keep down an incoming fit of giggles. Phia then clicks on the speaker mode, and Ewan can be heard saying your name, his tone a bit confused.

"Are you there?" Ewan asks.

"Yeah, I'm here," you take the phone, waving to Phia so she doesn't make a fuss.

"Hmm," he says. "I hope I'll be seeing you tonight. The party won't be as good without you."

"Well, Phia and I just finished getting ready," you glance at her, and she makes a kissy face at you.

"Hello, Mr. Whipped," she playfully cuts in with this greeting, effectively letting Ewan know he's on speaker.

You hear Ewan snort on the other end, before he says, "Hello to you too, Phi."

"We should be heading out in 15 minutes, and we'll be there on time," you let him know.

"Okay, I suppose I'll see you guys there," he replies.

"Okay." A beat of silence passes, and Phia just shrugs at you.

"I, uh - " he finally speaks up again, but hesitates.

"Yeah?"

He clears his throat, having decided on saying, "Nevermind. See you soon, darling."

The line cuts off. You slowly let your hand fall to the side, sighing at how it abruptly ended. Shaking off your worries, you look at Phia once more, and she already has her line all prepared. "See you soon, darling," she recites in a low voice, imitating Ewan.

"Oh, shush," you shove her playfully, and she shoves you right back.

"I can't wait to see you, darling," she continues teasing you, laughing, and you can't help but blush and smile, finding her endearing.

"Well, let's go," she says, picking up her things, "your darling boy of Derby awaits."

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

Fabien greets you at the door with that perfect smile of his, arms outstretched to pull you and Phia into a hug.

"Welcome, welcome," he greets, leading you into his apartment, where most of the cast is already assembled, including Ewan.

You happily exchange pleasantries with everyone. Chatting with Emma and Olivia. Profusely thanking Matt when he gushes over your outfit. Catching up with Harry and Bethany. All the while sensing that Ewan watches you from somewhere in the room.

You're eventually directed by Tom to the corner table where Ewan and Phia share a loveseat, drinks in hand.

"I'll get you a drink," Tom kindly declares, heading to the kitchen.

"Thanks, Tom," you say. You sit next to Phia, leaving her between yourself and Ewan. You finally say to him, "Hey, you. How are you doing? Got here early?"

Ewan's jaw clenches and loosens, and you catch his eyes quickly drift down to rake over your figure. When he meets your eyes again, his pupils are considerably dilated.

The boy just shamelessly checked you out.

"Ewan," you hear Phia say, elbowing Ewan from beside him. "She just asked you a question, be polite." She wags her eyebrows at you, mouthing the words lover boy.

Ewan hears that, astute as he is, and it snaps him out of whatever haze he seemed to be stuck in.

He shakes his head at himself, offering a smile to you. "I got here just before you guys," he answers. His voice lowers when he adds, "You look really good, darling."

You smile in return. "Thanks. So do you."

Phia beams at the exchange, then makes some excuse of having to catch up with the others. The look she gives you before sliding off the seat reveals that she just wanted to give her two lovebirds some privacy.

"So," Ewan inches closer to you, his arm outstretched on the back of the seat, "how did the script turn out?"

"It was better than expected," you say. He refers to a script you told him about a week ago, for a potential project which will shoot in Atlanta in the fall. "I'm supposed to meet with the director pretty soon to discuss it further, but I think it might be the right fit."

"That's amazing," he expresses sincerely. "Rian Johnson's a brilliant director and they would be lucky to have you as their lead."

"Thanks, Ewan! Yeah, I'm really excited for it, it's a lot different from House of the Dragon, but I'm all in for the challenge, you know."

"Is it a drama film, or thriller, or - "

"Oh, it's a rom-com, actually."

"Oh," he nods, leaning back a little, like that needed a bit of processing. "And you'll have a romantic co-lead..."

"That's right, and - " you confirm.

He smirks, like he just thought of something amusing. "Well, maybe I could - "

But you finish your statement then, " - I think Jacob Elordi has just been selected as my partner in the film."

His face scrunches in apparent distaste, "Has he now?"

"Mhmm." You note the switches in his expression, how his face fell when you mentioned your upcoming co-star. He can't have something against Jacob; they already did a film together and it seemed like it went well on set.

That thing nags at you, that little spring of vanity and desire creating warmth in your stomach. That Ewan might be jealous.

Which is ridiculous, given your shared line of work. Besides, you were not together. What could he possibly be jealous over?

"You've worked with him, right? What's he like?" you continue the topic, keeping watch for the minutiae of his reactions.

"He's... he's a good actor, I guess. Dedicated and all that. Pleasant on set." His answer is curt, not giving away any details, tone flat like he's disinterested.

"Riiight," you nod slowly, smiling impishly at him to get him to lighten up, "I'm sure he'll be just as pleasant on our set then. Good to know."

He catches the look you're giving him, causing the corner of his lips to pull in a soft crooked smile. "Hmm, be that as it may... I think I'll do a much better job as your love interest, don't you?"

"Oh, will you now?" you lean forward, and he does the same.

"Yeah, didn't you hear?" he whispers conspiratorially, like there's a secret to be shared. "According to the internet, we have a lot of chemistry. Practically oozing with it, based on some comments I read."

"You've been lurking on comments? You? The last crusader against all social media?" you joke, fully knowing that he keeps a few shadow accounts just to keep up with how his work is being received by the public.

"Sure," he shrugs his shouders dramatically, " that, and also to stalk your page, of course."

"Oh, of course," you quip, "I wouldn't expect anything less."

You share another laugh, feeling light all over, and even lighter when his fingertips brush against your arm for a few seconds. Goosebumps erupt on your skin, and you sneakily rub your arms to cover the effect he had on you.

Tom reappears from the side, handing you a drink as promised, "What are you kids giggling about over here?"

"Nothing," you share, "just that Ewan is planning to join Instagram."

"A damn miracle, that!" Tom exclaims, lightly punching Ewan in the shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah," Ewan looks at you warmly, playing along, "you can be in charge of keeping my account running."

"Tough job. All those fan messages I'll have to answer."

"Yeah, you'll have to quit your day job," Tom adds jokingly. "It was fun while it lasted. The industry will miss you."

You feel a pressure by your shoulders, and notice that it's Ewan's arm snug behind you on the seat. In the midst of conversation, he must have drawn even closer. You glance down briefly and see his knees touching yours.

You nervously take a huge gulp of your drink. There is no hiding the effect he has on you now.

"Don't you two look cute?" Tom comments, then he stands right in front of the loveseat and puts his phone up. Before you can say anything, a clicking sound makes it clear that he has taken a photo of you and Ewan.

"Awww, I ship it," Tom gushes afterward as he looks at the photo. He then reaches over and passes his phone to you.

The image betrays what the both of you are probably struggling to hide - it's there, clear as day. The attraction, the tension, the chemistry. Ewan practically has his arm around you, looking at you intensely with the inscrutable spark in his eyes. His teeth lightly clamping down on his lip in desire.

There's a subtle scrunch between your eyebrows as you return Ewan's look, a result of trying to maintain composure when he is so close. But your posture is relaxed, almost cozying right up against him, showing just how comfortable you feel around him.

As Tom just said, you ship it.

If only.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

Two weeks after the party at Fabien's, the main cast members of House of the Dragon are engaged in an additional round of promo work. Season two is at its peak, and the media is just clamoring to get more from the cast.

Some are booked for photoshoots, others for interviews.

While a minor character in the show, they also wanted you to take part in engaging with the press, but you are already busy with your upcoming film with Jacob. You're currently out in LA, doing rehearsals in preparation for the actual shoot.

Ewan is yet again lounging in a hotel suite, about to do an interview with Vanity Fair.

He sends you a text, in response to your complaint about a difficult scene.

You had shared, It's a pretty dramatic scene. What if I can't cry on command?

He easily texts back, You can do it, darling. Trust me, you're one of the most talented young actors I know.

- Thanks, Ewan. Good luck with your interview!

- Thank you, good luck with rehearsal. I miss --

Ewan pauses typing. I miss you, he aches to send. He does miss you so much. Why can't he just commit to it?

He ends up sending, I'll see you soon, in its place.

He knows he wants to do everything with you. Take you out on dates. Sweep you off your feet. Travel to wherever you will be filming just to see you. Confess how much he wants you.

Why can't he? It's terrifying to him, being with someone, in danger of falling in love - truly falling in love - with a fellow actor, and that relationship exposed to much public scrutiny.

He's always been a private person, so will he be able to handle all of that? Acting is his first love, and he's devoted to the craft. If he succumbs to his desire for you, will that cause him to go off track?

What if the relationship is not well-received? He is aware of how passionate fans can be. What if they cruelly decide to make you the object of their ire as a result? He can't possibly put you through that.

But... but fuck it.

The Aemond in him turns proud and defiant. Why can't he? Why shouldn't he?

He types another message in a second, then clicks send.

And I miss you.

His publicist walks over to him, giving him a few last-minute instructions. In a few minutes, the room is all composed and the interview is ready to begin.

The line of questioning has almost become routine-like for him, a far cry from when he first started giving shorter interviews for previous projects.

The answers flow from him smoothly, stemming from his care for Aemond and the show.

Near the end of the interview, he is asked about the remaining normalcy of his life. Surely it has all changed ever since he landed the show?

"Well, I try to go back to my hometown as much as possible. Just, you know, spending time where I grew up really helps maintain a sense of normal, for me," he responds. "It keeps my feet planted on the ground, that is, when I'm not on dragonback flying high up in the clouds."

The interviewer promptly laughs at his last remark, then asks, "What's next for you? Your fans are just eagerly awaiting your next project. Maybe a film like your new costar? Everyone is excited for her film with Jacob Elordi."

Ewan can't hide the way he perks up at the mention of you, never mind how Jacob is included too. "Ah, yes, well there are some things down the line for me. More than anything, I want to choose a project that I am passionate about, with a story and a character that is rich and complex. Whichever that is, I guess you'll find out soon!"

"Yes, yes, we will!"

"And about her project, I mean, I'm just so proud of her. We've become really close and I think she's a fantastic actress and person. She's going to smash it in this film, that's for sure."

The interviewer nods enthusiastically, smirking as he adds, "Apparently a bit of romance on the cards for her as well!"

"You mean in the movie?" Ewan replies, half-smiling in confusion. But he spies his publicist gesturing to the interviewer from behind the camera, a signal that private affairs are off-limits.

After a final question, the interview wraps up.

His publicist grumbles to him afterward, as they prepare to leave the room. "It was clear that no private questions are allowed. Sorry about that, Ewan."

"It's alright, that was... well, what was he on about? Did he mean romance between the two of us?"

"I believe he's talking about Jacob and her. They were spotted out in LA today. The interviewer probably just wanted you to spill some dirt on your costar."

Ewan frowns, "What do mean they were spotted?"

His publicist appears surprised at his question, and his obvious interest. "They've been papped walking arm in arm in LA. Seemed pretty close, not that it's any of that interviewer's business."

As they walk out of the hotel, Ewan can't help but do an immediate Google search of your name, and sure enough, the headlines about your walk with Jacob are abound.

He can't pinpoint how he feels as he sees the photos, the statuesque Jacob with his arm around you as you beam up at him. He notices that his grip on his phone has tightened, so he turns it off quickly and shoves it in his pocket.

Whatever this is, and how it makes him feel, he doesn't like it. He doesn't like it one bit.

His phone vibrates from his pocket, but he ignores it.

So he doesn't yet see your reply.

I miss you too.

💌 next chapter

Ewaaaan! Make a move, my guy!

As much as we'd like to see them make declarations of love or get into the passion quick, I wanted to make it as realistic as possible. How would two young actors begin dating? Reader, kudos to you for keeping it cool as a cucumber thus far - it's up to Ewan to make the big move.

Part three may be the last. What'll they be? Just friends? PR relationship? Notorious fling? Or new celebrity power couple?

MASSIVE thanks for all the lovely feedback for part one! 💙

Update: if you wish to be tagged in part three, let me know in the comments 💌

#ewan mitchell x reader #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell imagine #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #hotd #chemical override #aemond targaryen x reader

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n0vazsq · 5 days ago

Text

Underneath the (ice) sheets | MV1 x Reader

pairing . . . max verstappen x figure!skater!reader

summary . . . When Max suddenly starts appearing in Switzerland between races, fans get suspicious and decide to start researching. What they didn't expect to find was that his girlfriend was an olympic medalist figure skater

request . . . idk

word count . . . N/A

warnings . . . none! just one usage of the words 'fuck' and 'bitches'

alexavia yaps . . . FINALLY i started to write this after 829 centuries!! my first tumblr smau so i hope you guys like it <33 for the users its gonna be their names w no space bc im lazy also ignore the name i didnt know what to name it! it's a bit short but i'm on a writing grind so yes we can ignore that

maxverstappen1

liked by schecoperez, redbullracing, charlesleclerc and 709k others

maxverstappen1 taking a much needed break from racing

click to view all comments

username this is so pretty oh my god

victoriaverstappen so kind of you to invite me!!

maxverstappen1 yeah yeah

victoriaverstappen whatever you say, lover boy

username lover boy?? my delusions tell me hes visiting someone

charlesleclerc come visit us soon lover boy

maxverstappen no??

charlesleclerc enjoy your visit to switzerland then

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, yourbff, alextrustova and 210k others

yourusername would much rather skate in the lake but i got fined last time

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username mother is posting again!!

username HOW DO I BECOME Y/N'S FRIEND?? URGENT

yourbff buy her food

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username max in the likes??

username as a f1 and y/n girly thats my dream relationship

username it's not fair why is she so lucky i need her luck

maxverstappen1

liked by yourusername, yourbff, schecoperez and 672k others

maxverstappen1 i tried my best

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username WHO. IS. THAT?!??!??!?!?!??!

schecoperez tell her i said hi 🥰

maxverstappen1 sure

username WHY is y/n here?

username max is in switzerland.....y/n lives in switzerland.....she's an olympic skater......

username wait because y/n has the same jacket and skates as the girl in the pic??

dannyric lover boy is risking it

maxverstappen1 like you didn't give me a 40 minute lecture telling me what to post

dannyric so?? ive got everyone guessing who ms figure skater is

maxverstappen1 DANIEL

dannyric sorry? it's not like i said her full name or something

maxverstappen1 daniel i know you're about to type her full name i swear to god i won't let you live to see tomorrow

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, yourbff, dannyric and 341k others

yourusername when he's fast on and off the rink and his name rhymes with axe>>>>

click to view all comments

username girly literally hard launched

username yall STOP playing with usss

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username the innuendo?? y/n isnt as innocent as we thought

username cleanse yalls minds hes an f1 driver

username why is everyone such a dirty thinker :sob:

username i came here from max's insta and isn't this the same bow the girl he posted was wearing??

username WAIT I SEE IT???

username YALL ITS HER I SAW THEM TOGETHER IN ZURICH

username NO WAY WE JUST CRACKED THE MYSTERY

f1waggossip

liked by f1gossip, motorsportwags, pierregasly and 192k others

f1waggossip fans spot y/n l/n and max verstappen together in a romantical date in zurich! its reported that l/n and verstappen have been dating for over a year, and that max's swiss trips were to visit his lover.

click to view all comments

username MY GOATS ARE TOGETHER OH MY GOD

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username max's type is himself because she's the verstappen of figure skating

username LITERALLY

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maxverstappen1

liked by dannyric, yourusername, schecoperez and 720k others

maxverstappen1 guess the secret's out. i love you, schatje tagged: yourusername

click to view all comments

username IUYEGDFVGBSHJIUEYGDHJIO

yourusername my no.1 skating partner <33

maxverstappen1 and my no.1 supporter ❤

dannyric photo dump coming very soon yeah?

yourusername make sure to put good pics of me

maxverstappen1 it's impossible to put bad pics of you because you don't have any

dannyric DISGUISTING

username my parents

username they're my parasocial relationship

username do they need a third??? a pet?? i can bark, meow, tweet, anything really

username can they adopt me omg

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, yourbff, dannyric and 827k others

yourusername: i'd jump in a lake and get fined if it meant i spend eternity with you tagged: maxverstappen1

click to view all comments

username MY WIFE GONE TO A MAN?!?!?!?

username girl really was mad about that lake fine

maxverstappen1 and i'll say 'fuck' and touch rear wings a million times just to spend a moment with you

yourusername you drive me insane

dannyric you were already insane

username two stubborn bitches in one relationship couldn't be more romantical

username "THAT SHOULD BE ME"

username the way this could be about max or y/n lmao

landonorris does this mean you'll finally let me skate with you and max?

daniel3.jpg

liked by maxverstappen1, yourusername, yourbff and 382k others

daniel3.jpg finally got to post photos ive been waiting months to post. these filters don't do your romance justice. here's to my favourite couple, cheers to many more! tagged: maxverstappen1, yourusername

click to view all comments

username when will it be me

yourbff thank you from saving me from the third wheeling daniel, really appreciate it!

daniel3.jpg no problem! really enjoyed taking those photos (i didn't)

yourusername you're our favourite third wheel daniel <3 we love you!!

maxverstappen1 we love you a lot danny

daniel3.jpg aww, my heart. so when can i stay at y/n's cabin??

yourusername you're not max

maxverstappen1 🥰

yourusername <33

username they're so in love it's disguisting

username i need this

username love, such a lovely thing

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pyrrhiccomedy · 24 days ago

Text

This is my cat.

His name is Eddie Potato.

Eddie Potato came home with us from the animal shelter in January (so about 9 months ago, now). He was around five years old, and had been living on the street before he was picked up by the cops and brought to the state run shelter (my boy was arrested for loitering). When we met him, he was sick, mite-infested, and covered in matted fur, scratches, and bites: but he was also very sweet, and very friendly, and he was already fixed, so we knew he must have once had a home with some loving humans.

[Eddie at his first vet appointment, trying to hide behind a paper towel.]

We'll never know what Eddie's first family was like, of course: but within a couple of weeks of adopting him, we were able to make a few guesses. He was happy to be pet, and calm about being picked up: but the only way he had to let us know that he'd like us to stop petting him was to swat our hands away, claws out. He'd then watch us, very closely, a little tense; like he was either expecting to be scolded for scratching, or expecting us to try to touch him again.

This told us that he had an affectionate family, but maybe not one that respected his boundaries. Maybe it was a family with kids, or maybe just a loving but pushy owner.

He's a medium-to-long haired cat, so he needs a bit of grooming to stay hygienic around his, let's say, pants area. I bought some quality clippers and a pet grooming electric razor. The clippers he was completely calm about: he let me trim the mats out of his fur very calmly, even the ones behind his ears.

The razor terrified him. I mean, he knew what it was on sight. He was sitting next to me on the couch when I took it out of the box, and the moment he saw it, his ears went back; he crouched low and fearful; and then jumped down and ran out of the room.

Okay; so his first family groomed him, or took him to a groomer, that was obvious: and it was probably a 'hold him down and get it over with' kind of experience, given how frightened he was.

He was very sweet, and very gentle - except when he wanted you to stop petting him. This was a cat who expected kindness, who believed that the humans around him were his friends: but he'd learned that his friends wouldn't listen to him when he told them to stop unless he drew a little bit of blood.

We just thought: wow, this cat is a really good communicator. He is being, like, so clear.

Eddie Potato is a very stupid boy - uncommonly stupid, even for a cat - so we prepared ourselves for it to take a while for him to learn that things had changed. We paid very close attention to him while we were petting him for the signs leading up to that swat, and we got better and better at stopping before the swat ever came.

I let him get used to the razor very slowly: for the first week, I just set it next to his food bowl at dinner time, about a foot away, so he could see it while he was at his happiest. For the next week, I'd pick up the razor, and move it around while he ate. The week after that, I turned it on for a few seconds, so he could start to get used to the noise. The week after that, it went on for most of his meal time, and I moved it around his body while I pet him: so he could start to associate the razor sound with nice touching.

Then I groomed him. And he was - fine. A little bit antsy, but fine. Happily munching away at his dinner while I neatened up his pantaloons. I usually only had about a minute before he made it clear that he wanted it to stop, but that was okay: I just groomed him for a minute or so for two or three days in a row, until the job was done.

After four months, Eddie Potato wasn't scared of the razor at all anymore.

And it broke my heart a little bit, because his first family had clearly loved him. And Eddie is a cat who needs to be groomed! And it had obviously always been a scary and stressful experience for him. But it didn't have to be! He just needed patience! Surely, if the people he had lived with before had known that he could learn to not be afraid in just a few months, they would have tried.

Teaching him that he didn't need to swat didn't take much longer. It was so clear that this was not a cat who wanted to hurt us. Once we got the hang of stopping before he got tired or stressed out by petting, the swatting went away completely.

What was so sweet was what he learned to do instead: when he was done with being pet, he started placing his big paws on my hand, and gently but firmly pushing it away.

"Oh, okay!" I'd say. "We're done!" and take my hand away. And he'd watch me, for two or three seconds: and then he'd start to purr like crazy, and push under my hand again.

He wanted to be pet. He just wanted to know that he could make it stop if he wanted to!

It's been months now since the last time Eddie swiped at either of us. Sometimes, he likes to play his little push-away game for ten or twenty minutes at a time! He rolls onto his back for a belly rub, and I do for a few minutes; then he pushes my hand away, and watches to make sure I listened; then he rolls onto his back again for more belly rubs. The whole time purring, purring, purring. Eddie loves his belly rubs, and he loves being listened to just as much.

I'm just so proud of him! He's had such a hard and scary year: losing his family, living on the street, ending up in a kill shelter, going to a strange new home with strange new people. And he still extended his friendship and trust to us, and let us show him that he doesn't need to be scared anymore, of razors or hands or thunderstorms or the sound of traffic. He's so dumb and so small and he's had so much happen to him, and now he gets exactly as much petting as he likes, and he isn't afraid to get his pantaloons trimmed.

Like. That's my little guy. I get to make sure he'll be okay from now on.

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buckyalpine · 1 year ago

Text

Mob Bucky likes his innocent date ft smut

Sigh. I wanted this to be wholesome but it’s horny instead I’m sorry. Might delete tbh. Imagine devilishly gorgeous mob Bucky getting joy out of making his shy date flustered til she’s tripping on her words and unable to speak. He got Steve to find him a date for an event in the evening, uninterested in having to actually find one for himself. He just wants a pretty thing on his arm that he could maybe fuck at the end of the night. Between busy schedules and mob work, Steve doesn’t find anyone so he scrambles to the last person he can think of.

His sisters best friend.

You’re not at all what he was expecting.

He walks down the long staircase in his all black suit, beard trimmed, his cologne intoxicating, coking an eyebrow when he sees the shy thing waiting for him that he’s supposed to go with.

You nearly squeak when he stands before you, too nervous to say anything, your heart running a million miles a minute, knowing exactly who the very James Barnes was. You had no business being here, you were doing this for Steve.

“Hi” you whisper, and Bucky can’t help but smirk at the way you keep tugging at your dress, not meeting his eyes, tipping your chin up to meet his wolfish expression.

“You must be Y/n” he doesn’t let go of your face, noting the goosebumps that now cover your exposed skin from your plunging dress. He doesn’t say much else, letting you squirm, quite enjoying himself.

You want to tell him he looks good, be the confident woman he probably expected to have, exuding grace and poise but you bite your lip instead, nearly whining when he lets go of your chin.

“Y-you um. You look b-beautiful” you finally stutter out, your face burning under his amused gaze.

“Is that so Bambi?” He smirks, cocking his head while you fidget with your fingers. “Hmmm. No one’s called me that before” he chuckles, taking your arm in his and leading you to the limo parked outside.

Your skin is so soft, you smell so sweet and for the first time ever, he doesn’t want to ravage his date to bits. Not when you’re such a soft precious thing.

The night goes well as you grow more and more comfortable with him. He dotes on you the entire time, not letting you lift a finger. He can’t help but take care of you, not letting anyone else near his precious little Bambi.

By the end, he wants to take you home safely like a gentleman but he wants more. And he knows you do too. He can see it in the way you look at him with such longing, nuzzling into his side further and further in the back of the limo.

You’re practically on his lap now, desperately wishing he’d just have his way with you without toy having to say anything but he’d never let that happen.

“What is it Bambi” he whisperers when you squeeze your thighs together, hiding you face in his neck. Your hand trails from his tie to his belt buckle, too embarrassed to go any lower.

“Oh you poor thing” he coos, bringing and pressing your hand on top of his erection, your shaky hands rubbing his bulge like a needy kitten, “do you want my cock baby, s’that it? My Bambi needs her cock?”

“Mhm” you whine, clinging onto him when the limo pulls up to his house, his thick arms wrapping you up and taking you right to his room with no second guesses.

When he gets you into bed, all his animalistic tendencies go out the window, holding back how badly he wants to pounce on you and ravish you like the cute little bunny you are, trapped in the wolfs den. Your gown has been thrown off, lingerie ripped to bits, laying on his bed as he crawls on top of you, his thick, leaky cock bobbing between his legs.

“Are you sure you want this Angel” he checks in with you first, cupping your cheek and swiping his thumb across your pouty lip.

“W-want you” you whisper, shakily reaching down to grasp his cock, swallowing nervously. “I just- I don’t-“

“You don’t have to be scared bunny” he kisses your cheek, placing his hand on top of yours, guiding your strokes. “I’ll teach you how to play with my cock baby”

You tighten your grip, tugging him to where you need him most and he can’t hold back much longer, he’s trying to hard but you makes it impossible.

“Fuck Bambi” he groaned feeling his tip run against your soaked cunt, holding back frok shoving himself in you “keep doing that and I’ll lose control baby”

“Lose control Bucky” you tug at him again and he shakes his head with a strained chuckle.

“I’ll hurt you bunny” he said warns again but you need him to take you apart till you cant walk.

“Please?”

“Bunny…” he warns one last time but you want anymore.

“Daddy” you whine in his ear and something inside him snaps. He doesn’t give you any warning, slamming his cock into you with one stroke, your pleasured cry music to his ears.

“What did you just call me?!” He pulls out to flip you over, spanking your ass while his balls slap your clit, loving the way you go dumb over his cock.

“Such an innocent little baby with a filthy mouth, huh doll, my bunny wants her daddy’s cock”

He grips onto the headboard, delivering powerful snaps with his hips, alternating between pounding you against the pillows and grinding his cock in you without pulling out.

“Such a tight pussy squeezing daddy’s cock, my naughty little bunny, you want daddy’s cream too baby? You want daddy to give you his fresh cum, hm? Breed this needy little pussy?”

“B-breed me daddy!!” You squeal, his words driving you towards your climax, crying into his sheets and arching your back more as his movements grow sloppy.

“Get ready for daddy’s cum baby- gonna breed this pretty pussy till your fuckin’ round n’swollen n’leaking with milk” he gritted out, grabbing your hips with slam back and meet his thrusts. “Together Bambi, cum with daddy, c’mon, be a good girl n’cum with daddy”

The most salacious and primal sounds fill the room as he pumps ropes of his cum into toy, your greedy pussy milking him for all he’s worth. He can’t believe such a quiet little bunny could turn out to be a minx on the inside but he’s never letting you go.

“You’re dangerous Bambi” he whispers, keeping his softening cock in you, having never felt so satisfied afterwards, practically floating in the clouds with you. “M’never pulling my cock out, you feel too good around my dick baby”

You giggle as he kisses your glistening skin, gathering your into his arms, your eyes growing wide when he doesn’t kick you out of his bed.

“You’re mine now Bambi” he says with a soft growl, holding you closer to his chest before pulling the sheets over you both.

Anyway. Wholesome version coming later.

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nereidprinc3ss · 8 months ago

Text

come on home

in which the only person who can comfort you after your breakup with spencer reid, is spencer reid

inspired by the song "summer's end" by the artist currently known as phoebe bridgers

wc 2857

warnings: gn!reader (correct me if im wrong), minor mommy issues, angst, happy ending

a/n: thank you to the person who requested this:) u r an angel and I listened to this song the whole time i wrote (if you haven't heard, listen!!) i sincerely hope you enjoy, i like this one a lot<3

She hung up on you.

Forty-seven minutes of being insulted and berated after you’d called her looking for comfort, and you put up with every single cruel word—just for your mother to hang up on you. And it’s exactly the kind of thing she’d do, so you shouldn’t be surprised. An ache, you’d expect—but it shouldn’t sting like this. You thought you knew better.

Now you’re in a ball on your couch, clutching your phone to your chest and crying. There’s no point hiding it. Your roommate is out with her girlfriend for the evening—which is too bad because even though you feel like being alone, you’re sure that’s the wrong call. Your other friends are out having fun tonight, too. They’d even invited you, but you turned them down. Look where that had gotten you. Obviously, your mother is not the person you’re about to run to for comfort, either.

You try to pretend, while you’re thinking of all these people who have ever cared for you, that Spencer Reid isn’t on your mind at all. You try to pretend like you don’t care that the person who loved you until you believed you actually deserved it is a contact going stale deep in the bowels of your text cache. With bleary eyes you scroll down, looking for your conversation where it gathers dust—the end of your relationship was a mutual decision, and you’re friendly, but you haven’t texted in a few weeks. Probably because every time the conversation starts to feel a little too easy, or the phone call lasts a little too long, that aching void in your chest gets worse and worse. Like pain in a phantom limb, you become acutely aware of what you do not have and how much it hurts.

So blame it on the tears, or the mind-muddling melodrama of your relationship with your mother, blame it on anything but the truth—when your thumb drops on that call button like the plunger on a syringe, you don’t regret it.

What you’re not expecting is for him to answer after the first ring.

“Hi,” you say with a snuffle before Spencer can get a word in. There’s a brief interlude, in which you pick at your nails, comfortable to just sit in silence if that’s what he wants. As long as he’s there.

“Hi.” Hearing his voice instantly melts a bit of the weight you hadn’t realized you were carrying. Another pause, for which you remain silent, because you can feel him formulating a question—and you’d like to hear him speak again. “...am I allowed to ask if you’re okay?”

Your lips purse and twist to the side, pained and comforted by how easily he can tell that you’re distraught. One word across a tinny connection, and he knows.

“No. Yes. I mean... I guess that’s why I called you. But you don’t have to ask me about it.” You sniff again and take a deep breath. “How was your day? What state are you in?”

“I’m in the district,” he answers after a moment, easing into a casualness that he likely doesn’t feel for your sake. Wind crunches through the speaker. He probably just got out of work. “My day was... it was good. I got to talk about my job to a bunch of elementary schoolers, which is always a confidence boost.”

You chuckle, still laying on your side on the couch and watching storm clouds gathering outside.

“Nice, nice. What else?”

“Let’s see... I forgot lunch, so I had three oranges, and they were actually pretty good. I reread Game of Thrones—I don’t know why I did that. I’m never going to like that book.”

“Masochist,” you smile. He laughs, and you hear the sound of a car door opening.

“Oh! I talked to my mom. Believe it or not, she says hi.”

A completely inadvertent snort constitutes your response. It’s not what you meant to do, and out of context it’s sort of mean, but you actually think it’s incredibly endearing that he still talks to his mother about you. He scrambles to explain himself.

“I swear, we barely talked about you this time. Mostly we talked about her new boyfriend Leonard.”

“No, no, that’s not... I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you or your mom. That’s really sweet, actually. Tell her I say hi too.”

When he next speaks, you can hear the smile in his voice.

“I will.” Another long pause. You imagine him sitting in the parking lot at Quantico, keys vertical in the ignition of his old car and feeling the silence just as much as you are. He surprises you by not ending the conversation—instead he asks a question. It is concern, poorly disguised with nervous humor. Or maybe you just know him too well. “Do I get to find out what’s on your mind, or are you leaving me in suspense here?”

You bite the inside of your cheek.

“Um... well, actually, I just got off the phone with my mom, too. It didn’t go so well,” you laugh halfheartedly, “I know it was dumb to try and have an actual conversation with her, but... you know me. Always following blind optimism to the depths of hell.”

“Why’d you call your mom?” he asks, so gently it brings a fresh round of tears to your eyes. Still, you attempt to put a cheerful affect on your strained voice.

“Mm, you know. Just needed someone to talk to.”

Spencer’s knowing sigh does little to make you feel better.

“You know you can always talk to me, right? I know it’s... it’s different now, but... I care about you a lot. And, you know, I receive very few phone calls, so the line is pretty much always open.”

Your laugh quickly devolves into a cry.

“I appreciate that, but I can’t talk to you about everything.”

“Why not?” he pleads immediately, voice thin and desperate like it’s his most burning question. A million lies dance over the tip of your tongue. A million things that feel safer to say than the truth. But in the end, it comes out anyway—choked, and so quiet, but aloud nonetheless.

“Because I’m trying really hard to stop missing you so much.”

Another long beat of silence. The back of your throat feels dry and hollow—a cage for your hummingbird heart.

“If it hurts too much to talk to me, you don’t need to do that to yourself. But I also don’t want you to hurt yourself thinking you’re alone. You are... so important to me. I will always try to take care of you the best I can—whether that means staying away or being at your front door. If you ever need me, or even... vaguely want me, I will be there.”

Each word caves your resolve. Each syllable is a slap in the face to progress you’d been pretending to make. You can be strong—you've proven that over the past ten weeks. You can be stone-faced and slash at your heart until the scar tissue is thick and jagged, and eventually it won’t hurt anymore. But maybe, by letting someone tend to the wounds, they’ll heal a little nicer. A little kinder. Even if you can’t undo the damage, maybe one day you’ll be soft again.

“What if I vaguely want you right now?” you sniffle.

Finally, you hear the silver jingle of keys turning. The sputter and rumble of an old engine coming to life.

“Then I’m on my way.”

Twenty four minutes later, there’s a soft knock at your door.

After the call had ended, you’d wondered if you made it all up. Surely your ex-boyfriend wasn’t actually about to show up at your apartment. Someone you’ve grieved for can’t just come back—there are countless horror novels and movies based upon that very tenet. Does it matter if they ever actually died? How long is ten weeks, really? It feels like a lifetime.

You shuffle across the room, wiping under your eyes with your already damp sleeves, and undoing all the locks Spencer had conditioned you to start using. When the door cracks open, and you see Spencer standing there, windswept and concerned, for the first time in months, it hits you like a tidal wave. You are, beyond a shadow of a doubt, still just as in love with him as you ever were. The relief that floods your veins as he looks down at you with so much care in his eyes is like sinking into warm water. It’s a dead giveaway, and maybe it makes this whole thing a terrible idea, but you can’t seem to care very much. You open the door wider, and he enters, and he stands in your kitchen with his hands in his coat pocket as you shut the door and he’s perfect. It dawns on you that for the first time since the breakup, you feel safe. Like you don’t have to be a stone pillar anymore. This, of course, translates into even more tears, which you try to hide as you face away, re-locking the door.

“Sweetheart...” he sighs, because you can’t hide anything from him. Hearing the resonance of his voice so close to you once more is overwhelming. In an instant you’re rushing into his arms, and he accepts you without hesitation. You bury your teary face in the vetiver safety of his button-up and slip your arms under his coat, as if you could absorb his warmth and forever hide from the world that way. He pulls you even closer. It’s terrible and cruel how much he is exactly what you needed. “What’s wrong? What did she say?”

You shake your head and gasp a small sob.

Truthfully, you’re not really crying about the petty insults from your mother anymore. You’re back to square one, the reason you’d called your mother to begin with—you miss the man whose arms are currently wound around your shoulders.

His hand smooths over the back of your hair.

“Okay. That’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it.”

You stay like that—content even as you cry because being with him feels so much safer than being alone. It feels right—or perhaps it’s just familiar. You don’t know which is worse.

Spencer is rubbing soothing lines up and down your back as you cling to him, soaking him up in all his ephemeral, comforting glory. He surprises you by chuckling—it vibrates through his chest, buzzing against your ear.

“Nice Magritte print. I bet the person who bought that has fantastic taste.”

“Are you gonna ask for it back?” you mumble into the fabric of his suit jacket. He is, of course, referring to the painting you’d more or less stolen from his apartment seven months ago. You really don’t want him to take it home. It’s the most overt Spencer memorabilia you’d allowed yourself to keep in plain sight.

“No, baby. You can keep it.” The words are low, and kind, and they settle you some, but you can’t seem to get him close enough. “What can I do?” he whispers after a moment, helpless as you take a shuddering breath. “Can I make you tea? Have you eaten?”

“Will you just... stay for a little bit? I’ll—I promise I’ll stop crying.”

There is an unexpected lull where you thought you’d receive pretty immediate agreement, but before you can pull back and ask what’s wrong, he murmurs, “yeah. I can stay for a while. But you have to kick me out before it gets too late.”

You wonder if you’re imagining the double-entendre that seems to underline his words in bold red ink. Spencer is too smart to have not noticed a thing like that. You don’t mention it—it all boils down to the same unspoken idea.

Don’t let me stay, because I might not leave.

“I will,” you sniff, finally stepping back and wiping your own tears. It hurts to lose his touch, but at least you know he’s not going anywhere for the next few hours. This, as opposed to everything else lately, can be a beginning instead of an end.

At least, until he goes home.

Three and a half hours later, after tea, an impromptu dinner comprised mostly of cheese and crackers, and several vinyl changes on your record player (which served only as background noise for your long, ambling conversations), things are seeming to wind down to a natural stopping point. Which you hate. The whole time you’d had a dull ache in your chest because talking to him was easier than breathing and you knew it wouldn’t last. There had been one or two false bottoms already—the first when you’d yawned around nine, and the second when you’d gotten up to do your skincare and brush your teeth half an hour later. Even then he’d just leaned against the doorframe, watching your reflection above the sink as you talked for fifteen more minutes. Now you stand across from each other in the kitchen, plates restacked and everything in order. Of course he’d insisted on helping you clean up.

“I should go,” he says, with a soft sort of finality in his voice.

“Is your carriage turning into a pumpkin?” you tease gently, to hide how much you don’t want him to leave. He smiles—a small, weary thing—but genuinely and endlessly charmed by you.

“That among other things.”

“Would you—would you walk me to my room first?”

The hesitance is clear in his eyes and the way his lips part as if to say, ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea’, but you're sure he’s really going to leave in a moment and you’re also sure he won’t deny you this one small thing before he does.

“Okay.”

It’s a short, silent walk through the living room and down the hall to your bedroom door, but you can feel him trailing behind you the whole way. You stop in front of your open door, turning face to face with him.

“Thanks,” you murmur.

His lips pull into a melancholy smile.

“Anytime.”

There’s nothing left to do but wrap your arms around each other once more, tuck yourself into the you-sized space between his head and shoulder and hold on for as long as he’ll let you. The hug lingers for longer than is wise. Spencer adjusts his arms looped around your waist, pulling you closer, and you nuzzle against his neck, grateful that at least he seems as reluctant to let this end as you are.

But eventually, it relaxes. Your hold on each other loosens. His face is just inches from yours, and you get to study every plane and valley and line like you’d thought you never would again. It seems he’s doing the same—losing himself in the luxury of seeing you up close.

“Will you kiss me goodnight?” you whisper, unable to muster any self-consciousness though you know it’s a fool’s errand. Spencer strokes your waist.

“I can’t do that, honey.”

“Why not?”

His voice is just as quiet as yours. It falters slightly as he speaks, so gently, so patiently.

“Because we’re not together anymore.”

“Why not?”

Your feeble, desperate supplication sounds pitiable even to you. You’re not proud, but you can’t find it in yourself to be ashamed, either. All you want is an answer. But it’s like a child asking why the sky is blue, or the earth is round. There is a definitive explanation, but mostly, the adult will shrug, and say, that’s just how it is.

Spencer’s eyes squeeze shut. His head tilts down.

“We can’t do this again, sweetheart. You know why we’re not together.”

In theory—yes. You’d had so many conversations when you’d broken up. It had been a long, painful process, spanning multiple all-nighters at his kitchen table, nursing coffee and trying to convince each other and yourselves that it was the right choice. But it just feels like a horrible, horrible mistake. You feel desperate to explain this to him before he slips away again—the words come out flustered, inelegant as you cling to him.

“But I don’t think I’m getting better without you. I tried, I tried so hard to be good on my own, but everything is worse and harder and—and we weren’t sure about it then, and I don’t think it was the right choice, because I still really need you. Like, all the time. I’m—it’s not getting better without you. Nothing got better.”

He swallows, eyes darting between yours for an infinite second. You’re breathless and your heart is pounding after your confession—you can feel your eyes stinging with the few tears that managed to escape as you spoke.

“Everything is worse,” he agrees shakily. “Everything. I’m—I’m getting disciplinary infractions from Hotch like I’m a child because I can’t focus on anything. Game of Thrones is the most complex literature I can comprehend right now. I had to use a calculator the other day.”

You want to laugh, but nothing is funny until he’s yours again.

“Then come back. Please come back, Spencer.”

Finally, he leans closer, until your heads are pressed together, and his nose bumps yours, feather light. You're dizzy. You exhale. He inhales.

“I don’t think I knew how to leave in the first place.”

When he kisses you, it feels like home.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fic #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds

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