#i have genuinely fucking cried my eyes out

[alipeeps]

Episode 34

Ugh. Here we go. This is it.

Hold me. 😭😭

Fuuuuck. Please tell me he's not dead?

Don't do this to Zhou Yichen! (Or me!)

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck

His reaction is so RAW. The way he sees him and immediately looks away because he just CAN'T.

And he died with a smile on his face because he helped Zhuo Yichen.

The plotline for about half the fucking show was about saving Bai Jiu... and then he dies anyway. Sacrificing himself. Like so many before him. I hate this.

I can't with this. This isn't fair. I was expecting Zhao Yuanzhou to die. Maybe even Zhou Yichen, maybe even Wen Xiao. I was bolstering myself to survive that.

But you kill the BABIES. Ying Lei. Bai Jiu. The most innocent and vulnerable of the entire team.

OH SHIT... and the flashback to that scene... he never did get to clear the air with his dad. 😭😭😭

I'm crying my eyes out over a fucking TV show.

You know what? After putting us through this with Ying Lei and Bai Jiu, they need to let Zhao Yuanzhou live. We fucking deserve it. They have hurt us enough. They owe us.

I swear the OST songs have been specifically written to deal maximum emotional damage when used within the show. I hate this.

And all this time Wen Xiao has been having the shit kicked out of her by foster daddy.

Ugh he's fighting for control.

Her tears brought him back?

Oooh is that how they can save all the townspeople?

Ah shit so it can only be stopped if you get to it before the core takes root?

But how's she going to use the baize power when using it hastens her poisoning?

Damn he destroyed his core.

Oh daaaaaaamn....

Well you got father-in-law's blessing I guess, Zhao Yuanzhou...

Aaaaand people are starting to feel the effects of the demon cores...

Oh shit, use the baize power to make it rain? Won't using that much power like... kill you?

Is this drama going to give us the worst possible outcome and have everybody BUT Zhao Yuanzhou die, leaving him again alone and angsty?

OH FUCK. So even if she wasn't poisoned, this is a sacrificial spell?!

PLEEEEASE. Zhao Yuanzhou. Fucking please. Give me a moment of hope in amongst all this devastating despair.

Uhhh this feels very like a farewell...

Ahhh shit....

WHAT THE FUCK?!

So the reason a Great Demon like Zhao Yuanzhou exists, and absorbs malicious qi, is to power the baize divine power?

(But then, surely, if Zhao Yuanzhou's initial plan to have Zhou Yichen kill him in a way that would break the cycle had gone ahead, it would have destroyed the baize divine power along with the vessel of malicious qi?)

Oh FUCK and in that vision he is wearing the exact same outfit that he's wearing now!!!

But if he sacrifices himself to trigger the baize divine power and save the townspeople, how does that fix the problem of Wen Xiao's poisoning? Unless he absorbs the poison from her first?

He's having to steal himself to go through with it.

Jesus Christ, who ever fucking knew Hou Minghao could act like this?

Hey, Xiao Zhuo Daren, sorry about this, but I need you to live through just one more traumatising event today...

Oh fuck, that's why the one word spell worked on him just the once...

OH SHIT, HE SAID IT HOWEVER MANY EPISODES AGO.... HE TOLD WEN XIAO THAT WHEN HE DIES HE WILL TURN INTO RAIN!!!!!

BUT HOW IS ANY OF THIS GOING TO FIX WEN XIAO'S POISONING?!! SHE'S STILL GOING TO DIE ANYWAY!!

Oh fucking hell... Zhao Yuanzhou was going to pull a Ying Long and walk into the sword.... but Zhuo Yichen pulled a reverse uno on his and made it his choice.

😭😭😭

Do you think the healing baize divine power rain will heal Wen Xiao's poisoning?

Oh no, the binding spell has come undone. That means....

Ahhhh you fucker you absorbed the poison from her as you were dying...

FUCK I had to pause playback to go and get tissues because I couldn't see from fucking crying!!!!

Oh god and all the goofy happy scenes playing over the credits as usual, but against the sad emotional music rather than the cheerful stuff.

OH GOD not just the usual ending credit scenes but LOADS more.

I am drained. I am a shell of a human being.

That was honestly THE best fucking cdrama I have ever watched. Quite possibly the best drama/tv show I have ever watched. NOTHING has made me so emotional before.

And the ending was, unfortunately, probably the correct one for the story but god DAMN it hurt. 😭😭

[lylathewise]

Episode 4 first thoughts

I love the songs they play in order to cram as much exposition as possible, it's a really great move storytelling wise

Maddie, seriously?!?

Caitlyn could not look less enthused

Ok, so I am seeing Cait wanting ambessa to take the place of her mother

I love how Jinx looks so delighted with Isha, like I've never seen her look more happy

I kinda see a parallel between the scene with Jinx and Isha's beetles and Vi and Jinx making up monsters, except this time Isha won't ever be scared by this

I think Jinx will be a better parent than Silco was, not a high bat but still

She's being so forthcoming with Isha, it's so sweet

"You kind of remind me of her." What if I cried?

The handshake?!?

I'm on your bridge, Goatman, only thing I could think of when I saw him

Oh, they want hextech so bad it makes them look stupid

"Keep their name out of your mouth."😶

"How could I not secure the scientists?" Oof, not a good look

"She hides while you all suffer." Aww man, really poor choice of words

Waterbear grenades

The mirroring of Jinxs eyes over Caitlyns

"Fearless child, you never shy." I think Ambessa is trying to manipulate Caitlyn into seeing her as a mother figure

"Why is peace always the justification for violence?" Man, I just want to sit with that line

Stoking the embers of a dying fire as she talks about what's been lost

Is it just me or did Salo get a little fuckable? No? Just me?

Salo? Meeting singed? Weird

Not her forgetting she didn't have a middle finger 🤣

Man, mentioning both her father figures that she killed in practically the same breath 😬

I fucking knew it! If Jinx had a single true friend, none of this would have happened

I held my breath the entire time she was in Silco's office

That's... a different look than I'm used to seeing from Sevika

Please tell me they won't kill Sevika

Warwick is summoned by Singe's blood being spilled? That's pretty cool

3rd time Sevika has crawled to her boss with her arm fucked up

Singed is creepy as hell, but he do got grandfather vibes which I appreciate

Man, how must Vander feel seeing his old self?

That guard is bored out of his mind

THE FUCKING JINX READ?!?!

That guard can't even see her face and he wants to get freaky? Loser behaviour

Stillwater prison break? Please?

Sorry, Rictus knew that some random guy had blue hair under his hat, but Ambessa can't tell that the really scrawny Enforcer is weird?

Buncha cops are about to die? Oh nooooo

Cool, Ambessa does realize something is off. Still though..

The fear in her eyes, she's never had someone welcome her

The relief in her as she realizes she doesn't have to fear them

The underlying theme of the song Powder sang in the beginning

The hug 😊

Wait, Singed is planning to die in the prison? Neat

Warwick is genuinely terrifying

Isha is giving off some 'Frodo screaming Gandalf' vibes

Wait, Jinx is Gandalf and Warwick is the Balrog. That's really funny

Aww yeah, Vander remembers her designs

And again, the underlying Powder song

I was not expecting him to talk

[meltedhorror]

I'm not even gonna lie, me returning to this site immediately got soured when I got DMed about shit I've been begging to be left alone about since early November by a person who KNOWS I want nothing to do with it

I'm not gonna entertain anyone anymore, it's an immediate block if you try and guilt me about anything surrounding my ex. I want to move on with my life, what happened happened and I'm so fucking tired of people putting themselves where they do not belong trying to tell me his intentions, as if that would change anything

Intentions doesn't change shit about how he ended up treating me as soon as things weren't perfect and good.

I broke up. I do not regret my decision with all cards in hand. Leave me alone.

[grimandghoulish]

.

[genderfreakxx]

American werewolf in London is Fucking INSANE for ending like that

[rafesangelita]

hii!! congrats on your 5k followers, I'm glad glad. 💖💖

cann I haveeeeee 🍩?? (frat!rafe with daddy kink??) 🙈🙈 i wish you the best!!

warnings: shy!reader, kinda mean!rafe, daddy kink, brief mention of phone sex/sexting, unprotected sex, semi public sex (at a party), slight choking, slight praise, dirty talk, creampie, hint of impregnation kink at the end

a/n: frat!rafe has a special place in my heart i’m afraid.. you guys have been sending me AMAZING req’s for my 5k celebration, i genuinely can’t wait to answer as many as i can <3

“come on, baby, call me what you called me in those text messages.” rafe teased you, his cock prodding at your entrance. if someone told you that sexting with a frat president would land you in his bed with his friends right outside the door, you wouldn’t believe them. “i can’t..” you whimpered, your eyes heavy with tears as he wrapped a hand around your throat. “yes, you can.” rafe studied your face. you looked so pretty underneath him. “what, are you shy now? you weren’t so shy when you sent me pictures of those perfect tits.” he laughed.

your skin flushed at the memory. you had never provocatively pointed a camera at yourself, let alone posed and sent a photo, but rafe’s words and desperation to see you naked had made you crumble. “please! ‘just want you inside me..” you reached up, pressing a hand against his toned chest. “not until you say it.” he shook his head, squeezing the sides of your neck softly. swallowing thickly, you gazed up at him. “who’s your fuckin’ daddy?” your eyebrows knitted together as rafe leaned down, his lips ghosting over your own. “you are- oh!” you gasped when he thrusted into you without warning.

“i’m your what?” he feigned confusion, taking your thigh and wrapping it around his waist. he felt so good, your walls stretching deliciously around his length. “you’re my daddy!” you practically screamed when his thumb found your clit, his lips latching onto the sensitive spot on your neck. rafe couldn’t explain it, but hearing you call him that made something primal awake within him. suddenly he wanted to fuck you dumb, and make you a whining mess. “you’re so fucking perfect, holy shit.” he rolled his hips into yours, your back arching off of his bed at the pleasure.

the lewd sounds of your soaked cunt, paired with the heavy breathing from the man above you, did nothing to conceal the music coming from downstairs where a party was in full swing. you clung onto him the closer you got to your peak, your eyes fluttering shut as he whispered filthy obscenities in your ear. “acting like a shy girl, but really you just want to be fucked like the filthy slut you are, huh?” you cried out, his advances on your sensitive bundle of nerves sending you over the edge, your thighs trembling as you covered your mouth. rafe looked offended as you tried to keep yourself quiet.

“fuck that, let me hear you.” he took the palm you had pressed against your lips and pinned it to your side. rafe leaned down, trailing kisses down your jaw as you let out the pettiest noises he’s ever heard. you shook against him, burying your face in the crook of his neck while he spilled inside of you, his own high hitting him with an unforgivable force. he cursed against your skin, his fingers curling into the flesh of your hips while he eased his movements to a smooth stop. you were still teary eyed and going through the aftershocks of your orgasm when he pulled out, watching gloriously as his seed spilled out of you.

“i should do this to you every night.. ‘make you really give me that ‘daddy’ title.” he smiled wickedly, wrapping both of you in his sheets as he comforted you, stroking your cheek and running his fingers through your hair until you fell asleep in his arms.

[amandabbbbb]

summary: after the scene where ward drops rafe at barry’s and tells him to not come home but barry’s sister pogue!reader tries to comfort him even though rafe is soo mean to her like woah but it’s a happy ending

tw: mention of drugs, idk rafe cries a lot, parental issues, rafe calls reader kid and bitch once

word count: 762

“don’t come home, son,” ward says, his voice cold and final, as he walks away from his only son.

“where do you want me to go?”

“dad! dad!” rafe’s desperate calls echo into the night, but ward doesn’t look back, leaving rafe alone in the darkness in front of barry’s and your house.

“hey, barry, open the fuckin door! i know you got the coke, dude, come on. please just open up!” he’s begging on the verge of tears. “barry, if you don’t open this god damn door, i’ll fucking smash it down myself. i need coke, man!”

you slowly open the door, and before he even sees you, rafe shoves his way inside, causing you to stumble back slightly. he collapses onto the couch, his movements frantic and erratic. “barry, what took you so long? christ, give me your best coke. i need that shit now, dude” he demands, his voice thick with barely-contained emotion. when he finally looks up and sees you instead of barry, he quickly swipes at the tears streaming down his face, trying to hide his vulnerability.

“oh, hi, rafe! sorry, i had my headphones on. wanna listen? oh my god, are you crying?” you ask, your voice laced with genuine concern.

“no, jesus fuck, y/n, where’s your brother?”

“oh, um, i think he’s down by the shipyards doing a deal. sorry, rafey,” you say, offering a gentle smile.

rafe pulls himself up quickly, furiously searching for the drugs he so desperately craves. “where’s his coke? i know you know where he keeps it. go find it. don’t just stand there helplessly. you’re so goddamn stupid! fuck!”

“why are you being mean to me? you’re never mean to me… i don’t know where barry keeps the coke, rafe.”

he yells at the top of his lungs, “it’s like you have no fuckin brain. you’re just a useless dumb blonde.” (sorry i’m blonde)

the harsh words cut through you, and you can’t bear his anger. you turn and flee to your room, tears pricking your waterline, blurring your vision as you go.

your whole teenage years, you knew rafe as your older brother’s richest client, who he secretly would rip off. but as the years went by, he started buying barry’s more hardcore drugs, not just weed. you got to know rafe more as barry’s regular client. he would constantly stick around, always flirting with you and bringing you gifts when barry wasn’t looking.

“y/n, don’t shut me out. don’t be a bitch, come on, open the door. i need the coke. you don’t understand, help me here, okay,” he pleads.

you’re scared. you’ve never seen him like this; he’s always treated you like a princess. you yell as he bangs at your thin bedroom door, pushing the wood so hard it starts to crack. “go home, rafe!” your voice shaky and filled with fear.

the banging stops suddenly, your words echoing in the sudden silence. the quiet stretches on, each second feeling like an eternity. cautiously, you peek out of your bedroom door thinking maybe he finally listened to your advice. “rafe, you there?” you call out.

he’s sitting on your couch, tears running down his face, hyperventilating. “i can’t go home. i’m a liar, an addict, a thief, and i can’t be trusted, so my dad said he can’t have me in his house. i have nowhere to go.”

you slowly approach the couch where rafe sits, his face hidden in his hands. his body is shaking, and the room is filled with the sound of his ragged breaths. “rafe…” you say softly, your voice trembling as you try to offer some comfort. “you, um, can stay here tonight.”

he looks up at you, his eyes red and desperate, filled with a depth of pain you’ve never seen in him before. “i don’t deserve you, kid. fuck, i’m so sorry. i never wanted you to see me like this. i thought i had everything under control, but now you probably hate me or some shit…”

you sit beside him, offering a soft, reassuring smile. you put your hand in his. “it’s okay rafey. i could never hate you. we all have moments when shit falls apart. it doesn’t change how i see you. you’re tired. i’ll set up the couch for you.”

rafe’s eyes search yours, a flicker of regret softening his expression. “i didn’t mean to take it out on you,” he says, his voice low and raw. “i just… i don’t want to be alone. y’know, on the couch. not tonight.” the words hang in the air, heavy with his unspoken need to hold you tonight.

[leona-hawthorne]

mattheo riddle x pregnant reader headcanons !!

suggestive content warning— nothing too much tho, mostly fluff

navigation mattheo riddle masterlist

husband!mattheo who looks at you with wide eyes as if you’d hung the stars in the sky when you tell him you’re pregnant. it’s silence for a few moment before he kisses the shit out of you and holds you for what feels like hours

husband!mattheo who almost screams when your bump starts to become more noticeable, somehow finding you to be even more beautiful than ever before

husband!mattheo who gives up smoking and drinking when you’re pregnant. if you have to quit, he’s doing it with you

husband!mattheo who won’t let you do anything yourself. the tv remote is three inches too far from you? stay right there, he’ll get it. you need to walk to the bathroom? he’s guiding you there as if you can’t walk on your own. need water? don’t you DARE get out of your seat, he’s almost got it for you. oh, and do NOT open that door on your own. that’s what he’s there for!

husband!mattheo who is practically in tears within seconds at your first ultrasound, a petulant frown on his face when you laugh at him

husband!mattheo who is borderline annoyingly overbearing when it comes to your health. “did you take all your prenatal vitamins? did you drink enough water today? what did you eat? do you need help with that?” “matty, i love you but PLEASE shut up.”

husband!mattheo who kisses every inch of you, worshipping your femininity, your beautiful hard-working body. wet hot kisses trail down your arms, linger on your round belly for a while, and eventually find their way between your thighs where he’d stay for hours if you wanted him to. he just wants to make his queen feel good while she’s growing their princess <3

husband!mattheo who snatches you up in his arms and cheers after finding out you’re having a girl. then he takes a victory lap around the backyard as he tries to process the fact that he’s gonna have a daughter

husband!mattheo who lays his head on your belly at night, half asleep and letting out soft murmurs about how beautiful your daughter is gonna be. “gonna look just like mommy, most gorgeous little girl in the world, you’ll have her eyes” “let’s just hope you’re less of a brat than mama is”

husband!mattheo who basically panics more than you when you’re going into labor “HOLY FUCK ARE YOU SERIOUS RIGHT NOW??”

husband!mattheo who almost faints when he catches a glimpse of the baby’s head coming out of you. “ARE YOU OKAY?” “NO, I’M NOT FUCKING OKAY, MATTHEO!”

husband!mattheo who genuinely cries when he sees you hold your baby for the first time, the most beautiful sight in the world even if you’re exhausted and swollen. he’ll lean down to kiss the both of you on the forehead, his heart swelling with a love he didn’t know he was capable of possessing

husband!mattheo whose crying only gets worse when you let him hold the baby, sniffling and cooing at her. next to you, she’s the prettiest thing he’s ever seen, even as a newborn

husband!mattheo who’s terrified of being a dad, afraid to follow in his father’s footsteps. it was scary even with your constant reassurance, but the second your baby utters the word “dada” as she lay in his arms, his fears melt away

husband!mattheo who is the most girl dad of all the girl dads. as she grows, he’ll play dress up with her, let her do his makeup and paint his nails, and learn the name of every disney princess ever. whatever she wants, to be honest

husband!mattheo who can absolutely never get mad at your daughter. she’s perfect and can do no wrong and no one is ever allowed to make his princess feel bad!

husband!mattheo who tells you repeatedly everyday about how much of a good mother you are, about how naturally it all comes to you “you’re amazing, you know that, my love?”

husband!mattheo who would give his life for you and your baby a million times over. you are the loves of his life and he will work his ass off until the day he dies to make sure you’re happy

“we should have a boy next. i mean, i love playing fairy princess tea party, but i think it’s time for something else.”

[stunie]

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁ “MY BOYFRIEND IS GONNA KICK YOUR ASS !”

PT 2: WINDBREAKER BOYS PROTECTING YOU FROM PERVS. ft. yamato endo, chika takiishi, akihiko nirei, taiga tsugeura, & choji tomiyama x f!reader

PART 1: kaji, togame, umemiya, sakura, suo, hiragi, kiryu, & sugishita x f!reader

sfw. wc: 1.7K. ohh i had sm fun w endo’s hehe <3 individual warnings are below, but f!reader: referred to as she / her.

YAMATO ENDO. ‘my girl,’ ‘angel’ & ‘pretty thing’

“Hey,” Endo’s voice cuts through the thick air like a blade, heavy arm coming to rudely rest on one of their shoulders. “What do you think you’re doing scaring her into a corner like that? Tryna get at my girl?”

On a normal day, you’d roll your eyes at the teasing tone he always uses around you— but today, it brings you nothing but relief, fresh tears threatening to spill as you choke out his name.

His presence alone is enough to silence the group of guys who had just been talking over you moments prior, the three men in front stiffening at the sight of him alone. They can hardly believe this.

You really weren’t bluffing when you said Endo would kick their asses— he’s frightening.

They exchange knowing looks when they hear you sniffle, hands coming to wipe at the tears that had begun streaming down your cheeks. They were so fucked.

“N-no! Of course not.” One of them breaks the silence.

“We had no idea she was your girl— ” another one stammers, hands coming up defensively.

“Didn’t know? You serious?”

Endo’s voice comes out sharp, eyes narrowing as he puts more weight onto his arm, grinning at the way the man’s knees start to tremble at the pressure. “My angel here doesn’t usually look at me like that, y’know,” he whispers, jutting a thumb in your direction. “So what’d you do to put that terrified look on her face?”

“Sorry— we’re really sorry.” One of them starts to apologize profusely, but your boyfriend was clearly not in his usual good mood today, and he grabs his face roughly, ignoring the way his cries of pain come out muffled against his palm.

“Asked you a question, didn’t I?”

The veins along his forearm bulge when his grip tightens, and you hear a painful crack, the man’s hands coming to desperately scratch and claw at Endo’s arms. “She likes it when i’m nice, so I’ll give you a second chance to quit spewing some fucking nonsense and answer me, yeah?”

The two men behind him exchange glances before stumbling over their words, desperately coming up with any excuse that came to their minds. One of them accidentally slips out the truth. A “we told her we’d make a mess of that pretty face if she kept turning us down” and the group falls completely silent.

“I-it’s okay!” You stammer, hands come to tug at his the back of your boyfriend’s jacket.

Unfortunately for them, your words fall on deaf ears. He lets go of the one he’s holding by the face, not sparing him a second glance as he drops to the floor with a loud thud.

“Okay, i think i get it now,” Endo says through a genuine laugh, and it sends a shiver down your spine. He’s not facing you, but you think you can picture the expression on his face pretty well. “E-Endo-”

“Fifteen.” He speaks slowly. “I’ll meet you in front of that corner store in fifteen, pretty thing.”

CHIKA TAKIISHI.

Oh— so that’s why you’re late today.

Takiishi watches from a distance as you jut your thumb towards your phone screen, your usual chirpy voice laced with anger now as you repeat yourself with a frustrated huff. “I said have a boyfriend.. see? His contact is right here. Can you leave me alone now?”

“And I said I didn’t give a fuck about your little boyfriend.” The man laughs loudly when your lips wrinkle in disgust. “I prefer the ones with an attitude.”

“What do you think he’s gonna do if he finds out, huh?” He reaches out to get a feel of your hair. “Think he can touch me?”

“Takiishi’s gonna knock your lights out cold,” you spit, slapping his hand away when it comes too close to your face. That seemed to be enough to set him off, his eyebrow twitching in anger as he takes a step towards you, looming over your figure with quick breaths.

“Don’t piss me off— I was nice when I said you’d have a good time if you came with me.”

“I’d rather eat shit-” you seethe, angry expression contorting when he grabs firmly around your wrist— “That hurts!” It makes you wince, your phone hitting the concrete with a thud.

“What do you think you’re doing?” The coldness of his voice sends a shiver down your spine.

“Ah- Takiishi—”

The man jerks his head around at the name, hand still gripping your wrist as he sizes him up. His first thought is that he’s alright. He notices the muscle definition right away, but he doesn’t look particularly heavy. There is, however, a sudden coldness in the air that he can’t quite grasp, and you look awfully relieved now that he’s here.

“So you’re the boyfriend she’s been talking about?” He says with a laugh. “You gonna let her come with me?”

“Move. Don’t waste our time.”

“Huh? Who the fuck do you think you’re talking t—”

“I said move.”

Your mind can hardly comprehend the speed, mind just barely able to register the second Takiishi’s foot connects with the man's chest, sending him crashing to the ground beside you in an instant.

He’s beside you the next second, fingers coming to fix the stray pieces of hair beside your eyes. “Did he hurt you?”

“N-no! I’m okay.”

He’s monotone, as usual, but the hint of concern makes your heart flutter anyways. He lets you latch yourself onto his bicep, lets you tighten your grip around his arm as you fume about the audacity that guy had, and most importantly, he makes sure you call him every time you’re about to leave your home alone.

TAIGA TSUGEURA. someone touches around your lower back

“My bench has blown up since i switched to bulldog grip,” Tsugeura rambles, “and my squat too. The ‘tripod foot’ cue really helps with even foot pressure.”

You nod along, always interested when he tells you about things he loves, but your attention shifts when you feel a hand press against your lower back. It’s not Taiga’s touch. It’s too unfamiliar. Too invasive. Your eyes fill with panic when you feel the hand start to roam downwards, and you can barely stammer out Tsugeura’s name, voice trembling too much for him to hear.

“I should also get new knee sleeves eventually.” He continues, and you curse his obliviousness. “The cue helps, but I would get way more bounce if I had a pair of Inzers instead of the flimsy ones I’m using now.”

“I always get stuck at the bottom of my squat, so they would help. But i know pause squats help with that, so I could also implement those—”

Your grip tightens on Tsugeura’s shirt, knuckles turning white as you try your hardest to convey your situation. He pauses mid-sentence, finally picking up on the expression you’re giving him.

“Whoa— you okay?” His voice is filled with concern when he peers down at you.

His gaze trails down, and that’s when he notices it.

You gasp at the speed of it all. In an instant, the man is slammed into the wall behind you, loud thud echoing throughout the entire train. “No way.” His voice is loud, and you hear the bystanders gasping and whispering, their attention shifting to the scene.

“That’s messed up, man.” Tsugeura’s voice comes out low, a serious glare on his face that you’ve never seen on him. The vice grip he has around the man’s wrist tightens, enough to have him yelping in pain and stammer out an apology.

“Turn yourself in at the next stop, yeah?”

CHOJI TOMIYAMA.

“Tell me— who was that?” Choji asks, latching himself around your middle to wrap you in a tight embrace, and you glance at the unconscious man sprawled on the ground beside you.

“You knocked him out cold without knowing anything?” You ask incredulously, arms coming to return his embrace regardless, and your lips curl into a small smile when he melts into your touch.

“Mhm. He was bothering you, right?” His voice comes out cheerful, but there’s a small trace of worry in his eyes when he meets your gaze.

He hates to admit it, but his body had completely moved on his own. It’s a bad habit he’s developed since meeting you, because he finds himself worrying about you— desperately wanting to put his strength to use and protect you from everything he saw as ‘bad.’ It was only after he had jump kicked the man grabbing at your arm that he had considered the slim possibility that maybe he wasn’t bothering you in the first place.

“He was.”

He lets out an exhale he didn’t know he was holding. “Then….it was okay that I kicked him in the face, right?”

He relaxes a bit more when you nod, his usual smile returning to his lips. “Thank you for saving me, Choji.”your voice comes out soft and soothing, and he feels his heart skip a beat at the praise.

AKIHIKO NIREI.

“Ah— where are we going?!” You yelp as you stumble forward, barely able to keep up as Nirei pulls you by the wrist.

The two of you were at the mall, shopping for new summer clothes when he had suddenly called you to him by name— dragging you and your bags along with him in an instant. Before you could even realize what had happened, you’re in an elevator, watching in disbelief as he fumbles to frantically click the ‘close’ button, the doors finally sliding shut after the tenth click.

“You’re safe.” He sighs. “That’s a relief.”

“You scared the shit outta me.” you fold your arms across your chest and give him a glare. “What was that for?”

“Sorry,” Nirei chuckles lightly. “There was a guy who kept looking at you. He’s bad news.”

“How can you tell?”

You feel more at ease when his fingers come to interlace with yours again, and you feel him squeeze. “I guess um…” his other hand scratches the back of his head. “I have this sort of danger sense whenever it comes to you.”

“Something like that.”

[felixknow]

Bang Chan: Worshipper

sorry, I had to repost this. the last one wasn't showing up in search results.

Smut!!! MDNI, NSFW!!!!! Established relationship w/ plus size c!sfem reader; body image issues and breakdown; d@ddy k!nk, bbygirl said a lot, praise during intimacy, Chris being a soft dom basically <3

Chris opens the door and frowns.

“Babygirl, what’s wrong?”

“How do you know something’s wrong?” you ask quietly, dropping your bag from your shoulder.

“Don’t even get me started. You’re not looking at me for one, and you knocked on my door. Since when do you knock?”

You shrug halfheartedly, kicking your feet a little, nervously shuffling back and forth.

“Can I come in, or…?”

“Well, yeah,” he says, opening the door wider and taking your hand as you step inside. You take off your shoes and sit your purse down, then pass him, letting go of his hand. He stares at you, dumbfounded.

“Y/N.”

You shuffle into the living room and drop down onto the couch, curling into yourself against the arm, resting your cheek against the backrest.

“What happened, baby?” Chris asks, sitting behind you and gently trying to pull you toward him. “Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” you mumble, letting him turn you at least a little so you’re sitting facing forward. “I’m just… pathetic,” you whine, turning your face away from him so he can’t see the heavy tears welling up in your eyes.

“Baby, no you’re not.” He tries to pull you in for a hug, but you panic and thrash, throwing his arms away from you. His mouth falls open in shock, his eyes looking betrayed and hurt, and finally the dam inside of you bursts.

“I’m upset because I saw this beautiful, skinny girl and I saw her beautiful, skinny friends and I just started to feel so disgusting and huge and it didn’t matter how much progress I’ve made loving myself lately because when I saw them I just wanted to cry. I feel so disgusting, Chris. I don’t understand why you’d want to be with someone so huge and blobby. You should be with someone hot and pretty and skinny and beautiful like those girls.”

You can’t meet his eyes.

“I’m disgusting,” you mumble.

You can barely move out of an irrational fear that he’ll suddenly see you as terribly as you suddenly began to see yourself.

“You shouldn’t be with me,” you whimper.

You just want so desperately to shrivel up and disappear.

“Why would you say that?” Chris asks, hurt and empathy dripping from his voice. “Babygirl, you are beautiful. Do you hear me?” He holds your arm and tries yet again to turn you toward him, but you shake your head and keep your head turned away.

“Y/N, I don’t care what other girls look like. ‘Thin’ doesn’t mean ‘beautiful,’ the same way ‘fat’ doesn’t mean ‘ugly.’ It’s okay to have bad days, but you can’t genuinely think that those girls were better or more attractive than you just because something bad happened in your head. This isn’t my baby. Where’s my baby?”

He tries again to turn you toward him, and finally you let him, but you snap.

“This is your baby. Your huge, fat girlfriend who’s twice your size and probably is so fucking ugly when you try to lay her down to make love--”

Your voice cracks.

“How could you even want me? I’m disgusting.”

Finally you break, sobbing and letting him pull you into his open and waiting arms. He holds you tightly, shushing you and rubbing his hands up and down your back.

“No, no, no, don’t ever say that. Don’t do that, Y/N. I love every single bit of you. I think you’re beautiful. I love your body. I love your mind. I love the way you look, in your clothes and out of them. I don’t want a different girl. I want you and all your lovely curves and rolls. Don’t cringe right now, don’t you do that,” he says, scolding you when you flinch at his words. “You say all the time that I looove your curves and your rolls, and you’re right. But for some reason you can’t say it today, so I’m saying it for you. It’s not a bad thing to be big, Y/N. I love you.”

Your cries subside slowly as Chris talks, and finally you settle down to lip wobbles and quiet sniffles.

“I love you,” he says again, kissing the top of your head.

“I love you,” you say quietly.

“Can I see that pretty smile?” He pokes your side, making you turn away from him slightly. You know the barrage of tickles is coming before he even starts.

“Noo,” you whine, trying to scoot away from him, but he locks one arm around you and starts his tickle attack with the other, targeting your sides and your belly. Your laughs come loud and hard. Your lungs are sore almost immediately, and he doesn’t stop despite your desperate gasps of his name amongst your giggles and squeals as you squirm and push against his strong arms.

“You need Daddy to show you how perfect you are, huh?” he asks through gritted teeth despite his smile. His voice is a mix of teasing and stern, ready to slip into his dom role with you at your signal. You can’t respond properly through your laughter despite the slowing of his prodding fingers into your sensitive side.

“I think you need me to worship this beautiful body of yours, yeah?” he asks, urging you to respond. He finally stops tickling you and instead grabs onto one of your thick thighs with one hand while his other hand finds its way around the bottom of your chin, forcing you to look at him. “Answer me, Princess, or Daddy’s gonna answer for ya.”

Words still won’t come out between your panting breaths and still-negative thoughts swirling in your head. So you moan in response, staring into Chris’s eyes with your mouth held shut by his grip.

He raises his eyebrows and smirks.

“That’s how it is, eh?” He lets go of your face and leg at the same time and climbs to his feet. “I know just what you need, then. Come with me.” He takes your hands and pulls you up and along behind him, down the hall and into his bedroom. He makes a point of dramatically locking the door behind the two of you before turning toward you with a serious look on his face.

“You’re gonna take what I give you, understand?” he asks before pulling his shirt over his head and discarding it on the floor, leaving his impeccably sculpted torso on display for you.

“Yes, Daddy,” you say softly, nodding.

“Good girl. Now I want you to take everything off.” Your face falls. “Ah, ah, don’t argue with me. I said everything.”

Tears involuntarily spring to the corner of your eyes.

“But, Chris--”

“--Who?”

“Daddy…”

“Do as I say. Now.”

“But I’d be more comfortable if we went slow…” Your fingers play with the hem of your shirt nervously.

“I said you’re going to take what I give you, Princess,” he says dangerously and slowly. “Did you misunderstand? I’m not asking. Take it all off. Now. I won’t tell you again.”

You have no choice but to comply. With shaking hands you take off your shirt and bra, then your pants, underwear, and socks until you’re standing in your boyfriend’s room wearing nothing but your own embarrassment.

Chris either doesn't notice or doesn’t care. He hisses as he palms himself and groans when your last shred of clothing hits the floor.

“Fuck. You’re so beautiful, you know that?” You shake your head slightly and cross your arms, holding yourself tightly, trying to cover yourself. “Mm, obviously you don’t or we wouldn’t be here right now.”

Chris crosses the empty space between you and grabs your arms, forcing them down to your sides. He shamelessly pets and squeezes your arms, your chest, your belly, your sides, your back, your hips-- everything he can get his hands on despite your wriggling and whining as you try to turn away from him.

“I love this body,” he mumbles against your neck as he holds your body against his with his hands grabbing two handfuls of your ass. “I love your soft arms and your big stomach and your cute little rolls. You’re so warm and sweet, I could just eat you up.” His lips brush up and down your neck, presses kisses between his praise of you, sucks love bites into the column of your throat.

“I’m gonna fuck the sense back into you,” he says, voice dipping lower, growing closer to a growl. His grip tightens almost painfully on your ass before he massages the force of his grip back out. That’s the kind of night it’s going to be. He’s going to make you take it no matter how hard he gives it, but he’ll always be sure to make it better once he’s satisfied.

“There’s no reason my girl should be doubting me, or herself.” He holds your face in place again, making you look him in the eye. His other hand sweetly pulls your hair to one side and brushes it out neatly before grabbing it in a tight grip. “You think I want a skinny girlfriend? You think I want someone who doesn’t look like you?”

You nod slightly, but his stern look and annoyed tilt of his head makes you quickly correct and shake your head.

“No, no,” you say, trying to correct yourself. “You want me.”

“That’s right,” he says, holding your hair tighter. “If I wanted a skinny girl I’d be with a skinny girl, wouldn’t I? As if I even care about someone’s size. You know, it’s not nice to try to put words into my mouth. Who I ‘should’ date, who I’d ‘look better’ with. It’s insulting, Princess. Are you gonna say sorry for insulting me?”

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, trying your best to pout.

“How sorry?” he lets go of your face but not your hair.

“I’m so sorry, Daddy. I shouldn’t have said those stupid things. I didn’t mean to insult you.”

“You gonna be a good girl now and apologize properly?”

You nod frantically.

“Yes. Yes, Daddy. Whatever you want.”

“Lay down on the edge of the bed and let me fuck your throat then.” He finally lets go of your hair and almost shoves you toward the bed by the force of his hand leaving you. Reflexively his other hand catches you and makes sure you’re steady before you get into position.

Rough but sweet.

You climb onto his bed and lay on your back, scooting up until your head and hair hangs off the edge. Chris takes his time removing his pants and underwear, watching you spread yourself out for him despite your deep instinct to cover yourself and hide.

“Good girl,” he praises when you part your lips and hold your mouth open and waiting for him. He sighs and bites back a moan as he strokes himself, slowly shuffling closer and closer to you until he can prod his tip against your lip. You stick your tongue out and try to get a taste of him, but he steps back.

“Ah, ah, ah. I didn’t tell you to do that, did I?”

“No,” you say quietly.

“So behave.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

Chris comes closer again and rubs his tip against your lips, tracing them and circling them until he finally decides to push into your mouth. He moans and greedily keeps pushing and pushing until his cock is buried to the hilt and your throat is full of him.

“That’s my good girl,” he says in a low groan. “Ahh, yeah. Such a good fucking girl, hmm?” He slowly pulls back and starts rocking forward again, and all you can do is hum around him to agree and try your best not to gag.

“Fuck. Yeahh,” he hisses, thrusting faster as he reaches out to grab and squeeze your tits. Tears start to roll down your cheeks just from the pressure and the half-gags you have to keep choking down. 

“Mmm, my pretty girl. So good for me. Yeahh, just for me, baby. Such a good girl. I love the way you look like this. I love seeing your whole body while I fuck that pretty face.”

He babbles on, praising you while leaning forward to touch your body. He plays with your breasts, pinching and rolling your nipples between his fingers. He runs his hands across your stomach, grabbing the rolls at your sides and sweetly rubbing his thumbs against them. His hands wander higher, petting your arms and your chest and finally he caresses your face and notices the tears streaming out of your eyes.

“Oh, babygirl,” he coos, backing up and taking his cock out of your mouth.

“No,” you whine as soon as your mouth is free. “Daddy, noo, come back. Don’t stop, please.”

“Why are you crying, Princess?” he asks, kneeling down and kissing one of the tear trails on the side of your face.

“Just because I was gagging. I’m not crying anymore.”

“You’re not? You promise?”

“I promise.”

“Good girl.” He once again grips your chin and turns your head to him. He kisses you deeply, giving a long pause for this gentle intimacy before he gets back to his ultimate goal: fucking every single shred of self-doubt out of you.

“You know I hate when you cry, babygirl,” he says, kneeling on the bed and sitting in the middle. “Come here.”

You take his hands for support and he helps you sit up. He guides you closer and closer, and finally has you sit straddling his lap. He places your arms around his neck, then his hands wander, slowly caressing your arms, your shoulders, down your back and every inch of your sides and hips. He pets your thighs and brushes the back of his fingers against your stomach and across your breasts before he finally palms them and squeezes gently.

“You’re so beautiful to me. I wish you could see yourself through my eyes,” he says softly. “I’ve never once looked at you and thought you were anything less than stunning. I’ve never thought you were any of the negative things you’ve thought about yourself.”

“Really?” you ask breathily, trying to focus on three things at once-- stopping yourself from crying again, hesitating to put your full weight on his lap, and the way his touching your body and now your chest is making you as flustered as the first time you had sex with him when every touch he gifted you felt feather-light and exciting.

“Really,” he insists, leaning in to brush his lips against your neck where he already left love bites. His hands move again, reaching down to your hips and your thighs once again. “I’ll sit here and tell you over and over and over again until you believe me.” One hand stills on your hip but the other caresses closer to your inner thigh. “I’ll tell you a million times how attractive you are and how addicted I am to your body.” You involuntarily jump, just slightly, when his gentle fingers brush against your cunt. “And if it doesn’t make you feel any better, I’ll tell you a million more.”

“I’d like that,” you say softly, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. He lifts his head again and meets your eyes.

“Look at me,” he whispers as his fingers spread your lips and slip against your skin thanks to the wetness he’s already caused.

“My sweet girl.” He traces your labia lazily for a few seconds, staring deep into your eyes. You squirm in his lap and your hips involuntarily buck down against his hand when his finger swipes across your clit.

“My pretty girl,” he says, circling your clit slowly. “Don’t you agree? You’re my pretty girl.”

“Yes,” you sigh out.

His hand stops.

“Say it.”

“I’m your pretty girl.”

His fingers start moving again, a little faster than before.

“Good girl. My beautiful girl.”

You moan and roll your head back, but Chris immediately stops his hand.

“Baby,” he warns. “Eyes on me.”

Oh.

You tilt your head back up slowly and make eye contact again, no doubt with lust-clouded eyes. Chris’s eyes are dark but shiny and playful as always, and he looks at you in a way that makes your head spin. His gaze is a mix of stern command and lovelorn fawning.

“Repeat what I said,” he says after a moment of silence, flicking a finger across your clit, making you hiss and suck in a breath. 

“I-I,” you stutter, unable to remember what he even said ten seconds ago. “I'm sorry, I don't remember.”

“You don't remember? My fingers make you lose your head that much? I haven't even let you ride them yet.”

You whine and roll your hips as if you were riding them already.

“I want to,” you whine, but he tsks.

“You're so beautiful, babygirl. I want to make you feel good because you're the most beautiful when you're cumming because of me, but I need you to love yourself again before the end of this. My beautiful girl.”

He slides his middle finger into you, lazily curling the end of it so you can feel him press against your walls. Your instinct tells you to close your eyes or look away, but you know by now that if you take your eyes off him he'll stop. 

“Your beautiful girl,” you force out, trying to keep your breathing steady despite the way your heart pounds in your chest. There's something so overwhelming about this intimacy-- not just the sex, not his finger inside you, but the combination of his eyes locked on yours while doing it and making you say his possessive affirmations…

“It's too much,” you whine. “I’m overwhelmed,” you mumble, looking away from him and putting on your best pout so maybe he won’t punish you too harshly.

His finger slides out of you and he tilts his head to try to look at you.

“Too much? You don’t know what too much is. I haven’t given you enough yet.” He puts two of his wet fingers against your clit and starts frantically rubbing, letting your sensitive bud bounce between the cleft of his two slippery fingers. You immediately jump and whine, squirming and moaning, hips rolling and twitching.

“Ahhhh, mmm, Chris, ahhh!”

His fingers stop abruptly.

“Who?”

“Daddyyyy.”

“Look at me while I make you cum,” he demands, moving his two fingers in their frantic rhythm again. Your head doesn’t move, so he grabs you by the throat, squeezing at the outer edges just slightly. You gasp and grab his wrist with both hands, finally looking at him again.

You can’t make out any words, only gradually louder whines and pathetic moans as he works you closer and closer to your climax. No one has ever been able to make you cum so quickly from their fingers alone, but Chris has always had a special way of winding you up so tightly that you feel like you’ll burst before he even gets his hands on you.

Now he’s got you on the brink, one hand on your throat while the other works your clit. He lavishes you with his words.

“Yeah, that’s my good girl. I love your body. I know every inch of this beautiful, big body. Wouldn’t change it for the world, you know that? Wouldn’t change a thing about your body, Princess. I love you.”

“I love you,” you gasp out. The way you’re sitting on his lap won’t let you close your legs, but your thighs tremble and try to work shut anyway. The cocky smile on Chris’s mouth while he waits for you to reach your climax is too good. He knows you too well. He knows.

“I love youuu,” he says again, sickeningly sweet, right as it finally hits you. You throw your head back as much as you’re able with his hand holding your throat in place. You grind down on his hand, groaning and moaning, incoherently trying to call out his name in a desperate attempt to connect to him further.

“My sexy girl,” he chuckles. “God, I love the way you look when you cum.” He releases your neck and tilts your head forward to press your lips against his. While he kisses you, his fingers gradually stop and finally still, then his damp hand rests against your waist. 

He kisses you languidly, swallowing the rest of your whimpers as the overwhelming warmth and pleasure works its way through your system and you slowly calm down.

Finally when you’ve been quiet for a few moments, he pulls away.

“I should have done that in front of a mirror--” he says in a low voice. “--or recorded it. You need to see how pretty you are when you cum.”

“Maybe next time…?”

“That’s a wonderful idea, babygirl. Next time. But for now…” He reaches down and pulls on your calf, making you swing your leg to the side and then wrap it around him. He guides you to do the same on the other side until you’re no longer sitting on your knees straddling his lap. Instead you’re sitting in his lap properly with your legs locked behind him.

“Now I need to fuck that pretty pussy, and we’re gonna do it together, yeah?” Chris takes your hand and wraps it around his cock, guiding you to start stroking him. “You’re gonna-- ahh-- You’re gonna ride me and I’m gonna fuck you, and you have to keep looking at me, got it?”

You nod quickly but don’t verbally respond. You really wanna look down at his cock, especially as he helps you tilt it toward your cunt while pulling you forward until you’re close enough to feel the tip hitting heavily against your clit.

But you can’t look away from his soft eyes.

His persona is slipping. The bite has been falling out of his voice. The intimacy of having you in his lap, reacting so strongly to every little touch he gives you, has filled him with love more than pride; confidence in your relationship, more than smugness for his ego.

And you can see it all betrayed in his eyes.

“Closer,” he mumbles, wrapping one arm tightly around your waist. He holds you impossibly close to his body, your stomach squishing against his toned abs and your soft breasts flattening against his chest. The soft love-struck look in his eyes never falters, not even as you shift to the side a little so you can still help guide his dick into you despite your stomach being in the way.

He moans happily when you finally start sinking down on him, and you moan right back, whining needily as he fills you.

“Oh, fuck,” you whine, briefly tilting your head down as if you’re gonna lay it on his shoulder, but you remember his one rule and sit back up.

“This pussy always takes me so well,” Chris sighs happily. “I love this fucking body. I love it,” he groans, bucking up into you while his second arm joins his first locked around your waist.

“I love you,” you gasp, grinding down against him.

“I love you. I need you to love yourself like I love you.”

“I’ll try,” you stutter, nodding. “I’ll try.”

“Good.”

You move your hips together continuously, Chris bucking upward and you grinding down. You have more freedom of movement being on top, so you take it upon yourself to circle or slide your hips back and forth depending on what feels best.

Chris’s hands grip your squishy hips and love handles tightly when you move in a way that feels really good for him, and when you get him really worked up he can’t help but to reel you in by a gentle hand on the back of your head. He moans into your mouth and kisses you with more tongue than lip, trying to lick every moan and whine out of our mouth before it can fall.

Your moans grow more frantic once one of his hands reaches down to rub his thumb against your clit lazily while you continue to fuck each other. Chris swallows all your sounds down, refusing to let you break the kiss to warn him that you’re so so so close.

He can tell, though. Of course he can. He knows your body and its reactions better than you know it yourself.

He keeps working you from both angles-- his hips bucking up and his thumb brushing your already-oversensitive clit, until you break.

Your body shakes, starting in your legs and working all the way up as a delicious orgasm rolls through your entire body. You chant his name against his mouth, and he smirks and almost chuckles at first, until the fluttering of your walls as you keep riding through your orgasm sends him hurtling past the point of no return as well.

He cums hot, silky shots into your pussy with no concern for the consequences.

“Oh, fuck,” he barks when the sudden orgasm takes him, having turned his head away from you just quick enough to not shout in your face. 

“Daddy,” you sigh blissfully, running your hand through his sweat-dampened hair. “Chris. That was… That was so much.”

He chuckles softly and pecks small kisses across your cheek and jaw.

“I’m at a loss for words as well,” he says quietly. Both of you are still now, no more bucking hips and rolling waves. You’re left with only the heaving of your chests as your breathing steadies in tandem.

“Thank you,” you whisper. 

“I don’t expect this to have made everything better,” he admits, once again meeting your eye. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and traces his finger down the edge of your face. “Sometimes I’m just so baffled that you can’t see how beautiful you are. To me you’re like a goddess-- literally, like those Greek statues. I’m so in love with you and how you look. I wanted you to feel that.”

“I did. I really did, I promise.”

“Good. Though I’m not opposed to showing you again if you need me to,” he says cheekily, and you giggle, shaking your head.

“I’ll keep your offer in mind for the future, but I understand you perfectly tonight.”

[mywritersmind]

MESSY - LN4

pt.2

summary : Lando will not quit in attempts to keep seeing y/n piastri. The Azerbaijan Grand Prix ends triumphantly for the piastri family, followed by a flirty dinner, and paper being thrown at her in the early morning.

OG SUMMARY (After a steamy night together, neither Y/n or Lando expected to see eachother soon. Well, when they find eachother in the paddock and come to the realization that Y/n is a Piastri and Lando is Oscar’s teammate… things get interesting.)

listen up : piastri!reader. nothing major!! mentions of sex.

word count : 1453

⋆｡‧˚⋆

I’m fucking extatic.

My mom and I came to Baku on a whim and now I'm hugging my champagne soaked brother after a pole position with my sisters on facetime.

The race was genuinely insane and my mom cried the whole time. Turns out all the F1 I watched at home is a million times better in person.

Especially when this time I can see everybody’s faces.

An hour later I'm waiting for Oscar to change while my mom is on a call. I look up when someone enters the room, he’s dark haired with huge brown eyes. “Oh- Hi.” His accent hits me and I'm star struck at my third favorite driver, Carlos Sainz.

“Hi.” I smile and look back at my phone, sort of freaking out on the inside.

He doesn’t move though, “Uh… I'm looking for Lando, have you seen him?” At the mention of the McLaren driver's name I feel my stomach twist.

“No sorry.” He nods and looks around the orange room.

“You’re not here with him?”

Here with him?

“No… I’m Oscar’s sister, Y/n.” His face makes an ‘o’ expression before shaking off and smiling.

“Shit! Your brother did well today. I’m Carlos.” I laugh a bit and am about to respond before Lando enters the room in black jeans, a mclaren shirt, and socks only. He looks at Carlos and I back and forth before raising a brow. Carlos turns to see him and says something in a hushed tone.

“Right…” Lando glances at me but rips his eyes away quickly.

“I didn’t know Piastri had a sister.” Carlos crosses his arms as I stand.

“Four, actually.” I laugh a bit, “Norris have you seen Oscar? We’ve got reservations.” I want to talk about his race but it feels wrong. P15 to P4 is pretty wild though. And sort of hot.

He basically laughs in my face, “He’s gonna be a while… No chance you’re making those reservations.”

I give him an annoyed look, “Great.”

“Don’t hate the messenger, love.” He doesn’t even flinch, but Carlos does.

He looks at Lando, horrified like he did something scandalous. As if he feels bad, he looks at me, “Look- your family can join us if you want.” Lando is the one to give him a look this time.

“So your guys’ reservations will work, but mine won’t?” I cross my arms at the men.

“You used your own name to make them?” Lando asks, I nod and as he tries to hide his smile he says, “Yeah you can come with us.”

⋆｡‧˚⋆

Oscar is confused at the invite but goes along with it. My mom decides to stay at the hotel for some work calls which makes me more nervous. I’m now alone with my brother, my hookup, Carlos’ clueless ass, Alex Albon, and Max Verstappen.

I almost cry when Alex’s girlfriend joins us. Lily and I follow eachother and have DM’d a few times but meeting in person is like me being saved.

“So, Y/n! Enjoy the race today?” Alex asks me cheerily, pouring more water into his glass with an arm around Lily.

“No race talk!” Lando and Max say in unison. I don’t really know how they do it. They race each other for two hours, are always pissy after, then just switch to being friendly so quick.

I look at Carlos who’s talking merrily with Alex, surprising considering he was a lap away from a podium before his dreams were crushed by a RedBull and a prayer.

The table we’re at is large and oddly enough, round. The restaurant is beautiful and mostly deserted except for our table. I’m next to Lily and Oscar, Lando across from me.

I’m acutely aware that he’s across from me because he hasn’t taken his eyes off me. I watch his hands move his Monza pole ring around his finger. God his hands. His hands that were all over me-

“Y/n, What are you ordering?” Lily asks which shakes me from my imagination.

After ordering we fall into comfortable conversation which eventually ends in me making fun of Oscar with photos from our childhood. “Right then! That’s enough.” Oscar eyes me when my phone swipes to a photo of Osc dressed up as a car.

“We know Oscar’s kink now.” Max jokes and I cringe, “What? They always stem from childhood!”

“So who you calling daddy then, Verstappen?” Lando doesn’t miss a beat, Max side eyes him. “No need to be ashamed, Osc.”

“Not in front of my baby sister, please.” He looks around the group who are all laughing.

“Come on, you're a year older than me!” I sigh, “You don’t know what I get up to.”

He makes a disgusted face.

“Or who.” I add simply, sipping my drink as Lando chokes on his. His face is red after Max slaps him on the back.

Oscar ends up changing the conversation around to old karting days and how I was dragged along. I eventually excuse myself to the bathroom, checking my hair and washing my hands, as I leave I run into Lando.

“Hi pretty.” He smirks as I roll my eyes.

“Would you stop staring at me? Oscar isn’t blind.”

He shrugs, “No.”

“No?”

“No. It’s kinda difficult when you look like that.” I’m going to pretend that didn't do something to me and move on.

“Nice race today. Sort of impressive.” I match his cool demeanor which he loses after my words.

“A compliment?” He grins, god his smile is ridiculous and when it’s directed at me I want to faint, “Thanks love. Wanna celebrate with me later?”

“Careful with the nickname, Norris. I’ll be celebrating with the man who actually won.”

Speaking of, Oscar joins us in the hall, his face dropping when he sees us, “Please tell me you aren’t friends already.” I stand up straighter, “I can’t have you two combine forces against me.”

This makes me laugh, “Don’t worry, Osci.” I squeeze his shoulder before stepping away.

Lando follows, “Yeah I don’t think we’re the friends type.” I eye him behind me, he just winks.

⋆｡‧˚⋆

I’m pretty sure the world is working against me. Or maybe for me?

We’ve got an extra day in Baku to spend with Oscar. I woke up early, getting hot chocolate and settling on my balcony with my book and pajamas.

I’m happy in the early light, breathing in the fresh air when I hear a whistle. My eyes are drawn down to the man running shirtless, shading his eyes from the sun while looking up at me.

“Good morning!” Lando sings, that smile already planted onto his face. He looks way too tan, sweaty, and fit for five in the morning.

“Morning.” I say back.

“Watcha reading?” I raise a brow, confused because no guy ever cares about that.

“Um. Little women.” I close the book and flash him the cover. He nods.

“I have something for you!” He reaches into his pocket and I wouldn’t be surprised if he pulled out a boom box.

He pulls out a crumpled piece of paper, “Are you sending me a nude by hand?”

He laughs out loud, “No! It’s my number!” He throws it up but the wind pushes it right back down, landing at his feet.

He frowns and tries again, “You’re quite bold for a one night stand.” The paper falls again and I try not to laugh. He grabs it, looking up at me once again. I can see the blueness of his eyes even from stories up.

“Who said it was just a one night stand?” He squeezes the paper tighter. When he throws it once more, it finally lands on my balcony but Lando’s eyes jet to the balcony next to mine.

“The hell are you doing?” My brother's voice makes my eyes go wide. I had forgotten he’s right next door.

“Coming to see you, of course!” Lando opens his arms wide.

I can practically hear Oscar shaking his head, “Go away.” Lando nods and starts to jog backwards, his eyes meet mine once last time, making my breath stop short.

He smiles wider, turning around and following his route.

I shake my head, smiling to myself and opening the crinkled ball of paper. It reads his number and a small note.

Give me a chance, Y/n. You won’t regret it.

[hairmetal666]

Steve has this bar he loves in Chicago. It's a little bit dive-y, a little bit dirty, but it's quiet. A good place for when he needs to clear his head.

Only, tonight, the place is packed. Music pounding from the jukebox, no space at the bar, patrons at the dartboard and pool table. In three years he's never seen it like this.

He has a second to wonder what's going on before he sees exactly who is going on, and for him to catch Steve looking.

"Stevie!" Eddie Munson cries. He leaps from the bar top, the people below scrambling away from the stomp of his big black boots.

He hasn't seen Eddie in years. Can't actually remember the last time. Max and Lucas's wedding? Robin and Nancy's baby shower?

Steve considers booking it out of there, escaping in the crush of the crowd. By the time he has the thought, though, Eddie's already pulling him into a hug.

He's excited to see his friend. He is! Really. He loves Eddie. But that's kind of the problem.

Steve fell in love and Eddie left town.

Well, maybe it wasn't so dramatic as all that. It wasn't until six months after they packed the last box in the back of Eddie's van that Steve could name his feelings for what they were. And by then, Corroded Coffin were building buzz and Eddie had a huge whole life outside of the people he saved the world with.

Over the years, as Eddie's fame grew, he came around less and now they hardly see each other. They still talk from time to time, Steve still buys all the band's records, and Eddie's still close with all the kids, Nancy and Robin too.

Eddie releases him, those big eyes bright, a pure and genuine smile stretching his face. Steve's stomach twists, heart skipping a beat.

"Gotta be honest with you, man. Never expected to see Steve Harrington in a place like this."

Steve snorts. "There's lots of place I go you wouldn't expect."

Eddie's smile wobbles, Steve thinks. It's gone in a blink, though, and Eddie laughs. "I'm sure you do, sweetheart. Have time for a drink with me?"

Eddie navigates to the bar, returns with two beers in hand. He presses his palm to the small of Steve's back, directing him to the single empty table in the corner as far from the jukebox as possible.

"How's life treating you, Stevie?" Eddie asks after a sip. "Nance told me the store is doing really well."

"It's good, yeah. Finally turning a profit. Wasn't sure about Dustin having us add a game section, but he was right. It's really taken off."

"Oh, he told me," Eddie smirks.

Steve rolls his eyes. "I'm sure that he did. He hasn't let me hear the end of it."

"That tone," Eddie says, voice soft.

"What brings you to Chicago?" He asks to hide the way all the fucking love he feels for this man is bleeding out of him.

"Not really supposed to be," he laughs. "Flight got diverted to O'Hare, can't get another one until tomorrow. Have to make it to LA in time to play a show."

They both know Eddie loves it; the rush, the adrenaline, that comes with performing, to making it to shows at the very last minute. It's how they got here in the first place.

"Working on new music?"

Eddie leans back, dimples popping with the pleased lift of his lips. "Oh, Harrington, you don't even know what we have in store." He leans over the table and launches into tales of rehearsals and writing. Steve drinks his beer and can't take his eyes off his friend, Eddie the sun Steve orbits around, helpless to his gravitational pull.

"So, Stevie," Eddie says, once there's no more to tell about music. "You seeing anyone?"

Steve hides his cringe with a chuckle. Picks up his beer to buy time and finds it empty. "Not anyone of note."

"C'mon, how is that possible? You're easily the hottest guy in this place."

He grimaces. "That's a low bar."

"Oooh, still bitchy after all these years." Eddie snickers, takes a swig from his bottle.

"Shut-up."

"Seems like it's been a while since you dated."

"You interrogating my love life now, Munson?"

"No, not at all. Just curious."

"Okay, who are you dating? Still that guy from People?"

"Gossip," Eddie frowns.

"Anyone else you got your eye on?"

"No one new," Eddie says. He stares at Steve hard for a second, like he wants to dig into his brain, like it holds the answer to all life's question.

"There is someone, then." Steve tries to ignore the jealousy licking down his spine. Eddie isn't his and never will be.

Eddie picks at the label on his now empty beer. "Not--not really." He licks his lips, leaning over the table again. "Is there a reason you don't seem to date anymore, man? It's just--you wouldn't hurt for options, right?"

Steve freezes, trying to figure out a way to answer that won't end up breaking his own heart. "Ah, it's--you know, things got busy with opening the store and everything. Stopped being a priority."

"Are you lonely?"

"Are you?" He snaps before he can stop himself. "Sorry, I'm--sorry."

"Yeah, man. I'm lonely as hell." Eddie answers as though Steve didn't give him an out.

"I--you ever have someone where the timing is always wrong?"

"Think it's a hazard of my profession. Who's yours?"

"What?" Steve clunks his bottle too hard against the table.

"The one that got away?"

"It's--it--I--it doesn't matter."

Eddie's smile is all jagged edges. "Nancy?"

"God, no. Nance and I are good with being friends. No lingering feelings there. Who's yours?"

"Ahh," Eddie sits back a little, eyes glittering with an emotion Steve can't place. "The best boy I ever met. Can't get over him, can't forget him. I think they guys are going to start banning my 'pathetic gay yearning songs'. Gareth's words."

Something in Steve's chest crumbles to dust. There's someone. Has always been someone. Of course. Eddie is beautiful and hot and charismatic and fucking famous. And Steve is--just a guy who runs a struggling bookstore with a couple of his best friends.

"That's--I'm sorry it didn't work out." He's trying to stop his voice from breaking, from giving Eddie any hint of what he's feeling, just knows he has to get out. "Listen, man, thanks for the beer. Great to catch up. You should hit up Robin and Nancy the next time you're in town. I gotta get going."

"Wait, Steve--"

"See you around."

He doesn't wait. He pushes through the people, and races out the door, into the crisp Chicago fall air. He squeezes his eyes closed, practices his breathing exercises, tries to relax the clench of his teeth, ease the screaming in his lungs.

Three steps away from the building is as far as he gets before he hears, "Steve, please wait." A hand catches his hip, holding him in place.

"Eddie, I don't--"

"It's you," Eddie says. His face is pale, stricken. "You're the one who got away, Steve."

"What?"

"I've never been able to work up the nerve to confess. I've been trying for years, but. Too afraid of losing you to tell the truth."

"Years?" Steve's brain is trying to wrap around what's happening. That Eddie has feelings for him? That he's the source of the pathetic gay yearning?

"God, since 1986, at least."

Steve doesn't know what to say; what to do. He's been waiting for this moment so long, and his brain goes on pause.

"It's okay if you don't feel the same," Eddie rambles. "Hell, I'd be surprised if you did, but--"

"You're mine too," the words tumble out.

"What?"

"You're the one who got away. For me. You're mine."

"Steve," Eddie breathes. "Is this--are you serious?"

"Pathetic gay yearning and all."

Eddie's laugh is a bright spot in the darkness, relief and happiness mixed with the hope of what's next.

Steve can't help but giggle. "We're so dumb," he says.

Eddie looks at him with a raised eyebrow before bursting into giggles of his own. "So dumb, Steve, oh my god."

"It's been a decade!"

"Fuck," Eddie cackles.

They collapse against each other, chests heaving with their mirth. As they catch their breath, Steve nuzzles against Eddie's neck, relishing the closeness. It's easy for him to change the angle so their lips meet in a kiss frantic with ten years of longing.

"Your place or mine?" Eddie asks once they part.

Steve laughs. "You think I'm that easy, Munson?"

"Oh, Steve," Eddie smirks. "I know it."

"Asshole." Steve presses a kiss to his jaw. "How many songs did you write about me?"

Eddie smiles so hard his dimples pop. "All of them, baby. Every single one."

Steve rests their foreheads together, body fizzing like freshly uncorked champagne, "Take me home, Ed."

[wanders-in-wonderland]

Smile for the Camera

It’s 10pm sharp when I start my stream. I’ve always been on time, always with my makeup on flawlessly, hair styled perfectly, and bedroom set curated just right to show my pretty pink sheets and collection of toys.

I smile and wave at the camera, tossing my hair back to reveal the pink lingerie set I’ve chosen for tonight.

“Good evening everyone! I’m sooo glad to see so many of you tuning in!”

The chat inbox floods with greetings from my audience and there’s an influx of money that comes from my particularly generous viewers. I giggle and flirt with my viewers, many of whom who have become regulars in my viewership population.

Someone in the audience asks for a strip tease and I feel my pussy pulse in response, looking forward to a night of performing for my devoted viewers.

I start slow, running my fingers up and down my body, brushing gently over my lingerie-clad nipples and whimpering loudly for the microphone to pick up. My eyes stare into the camera, all of my thoughts melting away as I fall into my role of entertainer.

Teasingly, I pull along the shoulder straps of my top, letting the fabric fall away from my chest to show off my perky tits and hardened nipples that are always a fan favorite. My hands dance over my chest, pulling gently at my nipples in a way that makes my moans completely genuine. My eyes glance to the screen and I see the excitement building in my chat box, and my account balance steadily rising.

Suddenly, I hear the lock on my door click and my body goes cold. The door to my room is out of the video shot, behind my camera setup and before I can even react, the door slams open.

I let out a startled yelp as my arms instinctively cover my chest. In the corner of my eye, I see the chat go crazy as my audience tries to figure out what it is they’re hearing but not seeing off screen. My attention is wholly focused on the man whose frame fills my doorway.

I scramble off my bed. “What the fuck? Why are you in my house?” My voice is shaking with fear and shrill with panic. I’m far too preoccupied to even think about the livestream anymore.

My fear deepens when I see him leer at me and stalk through my door and towards me without any hesitation.

“A fucking whore like you should be more gracious to me,” he says, his eyes taking on a dangerous glint. He and I are both in the camera’s view now and the viewers on my stream are firing off more messages than before, speculating over who he is and what is going on.

Without saying anything else, he moves to me faster than I can evade and grabs my hair. My mouth opens to scream but before sound can escape, he throws me chest down onto my bed. The air is forced out of my lungs and for a moment, I’m still and stunned. The next moment, he’s on me.

His hand is buried in my hair, keeping my face pressed down against the bed while he forces my ass up into the air. I struggle uselessly against him, unable to push up off the bed or move myself away from his ironclad grip. My cries are muffled against my bed and I want to scream and yell for help but there’s not enough air in my lungs.

His free hand lands a sharp slap against my ass that make me jolt forwards and arch my back further in pain. He doesn’t give me time to adjust as he begins to land blow after blow. My arms begin to flail, fingers scrambling for something to hold onto as I struggle.

“Stop fucking moving, whore,” he growls at me. I feel the spanks subside for a moment and I can feel my ass burning red and throbbing from the pain. My head spins from the abuse and the lack of oxygen. I feel his large hand find my wrist, his fingers locking around me in a bruising hold as he yanks my arm behind my back, straining my shoulder.

The hand on my head finally comes away and I raise my head just enough to gasp in much-needed oxygen. In that split second, he’d grabbed and secured my other arm behind my back as well, his one hand effortless holding my arms crossed behind my back. My body is still bent over, knees on the bed and ass up in the air. My only saving grace is that I can raise my head enough to breathe and glance at my laptop, showing the livestream still ongoing.

My eyes dart across the screen, reading messages as fast as I can. None of them show any concern for me, in fact, a vast majority are discussing how much they wished they were the ones holding my body down in this moment.

“Fuck yes, show that whore her place.”

“God, what would I do to be there to punish her for always teasing us.”

“I bet her cunt is dripping wet right now.”

I whine softly when I see that message because it’s right. “Please, let me go!” I turn my head to look at the menace of a man behind me. He flashes a dark grin at me, “Not until I fuck you out of your whore mind.”

His words echo in my head and panic rises within me. “Please! No! Stop! Someone help me!” I make eye contact with the camera, begging at its cold, dark lens.

He laughs behind me. “There’s no one here to help you, whore. You and I both know that every single person watching behind their computer screen is more than eager to see your whore body get ruined.”

As he speaks, his free hand pulls his belt and pants undone enough for him to pull his massive cock out. I let out a choked gasp when I see it.

“Wait, no, please, you’re too big, it’s not going to fit! Please!” My voice shakes and I start to struggle harder against him. His body dwarfs mine and I watch through the camera as he rips my panties off, the sound of tearing fabric filling the room.

“Shut the fuck up and take it, whore.” I feel the head of his cock brush against my dripping slit and my eyes widen.

“Wait, please-” My begging ends in a wail as he slams himself into me to the hilt. The painful stretch makes tears spring into my eyes but unimaginable pleasure quickly follows as his cock nudges into every sensitive spot inside of me. He doesn’t give me time to adjust as he begins to rut into me mercilessly.

Every thrust makes my body shake with pain-tinged pleasure and pathetic moans are spilling out of my mouth as my eyes roll upwards. My hazy vision catches a glimpse of us on the camera. I look like a rag doll, back arched, ass in the air, and shuddering as he towers over me, his cock sinking into my cunt.

Every thrust is accompanied by the squelch of my wetness and the sound of our bodies slamming into each other. The bed creaks under us as his body moves like a machine, drilling into me. “Fuck, you tight fucking whore, your pussy was made for me huh?”

His voice is guttural. Suddenly, he grips my upper arms and yanks me upwards. His other hand comes around to grip my throat as he traps me against his front. The new angle makes his cock stab even deeper into me, forcing a cry from my lips.

“Look at the fucking camera, whore. Show them what a fucked out little slut you are. Go ahead, smile for the camera.” His thrusts seem to come even faster now.

I have tears falling from my eyes as my face reddens from his constricting grip around my neck.

“Smile or I choke you out on my cock like this,” he snarls, hips never stuttering in their punishing pace. I let out a muffled groan and try my best to focus myself enough to obey.

I stare through half-lidded eyes at the camera, barely coherent. My lips pull up in a small, desperate smile as I feel myself gradually running out of air.

“Good fucking whore. Now tell them how much you like having your whore cunt fucked.” His hand leaves my throat and goes to pinch my clit harshly, making me squeal.

“Ah- I like having, ah-, my whore cunt fucked!” My voice is hoarse, my orgasm fast approaching as he starts to roughly roll my clit between his fingers.

“That’s right, and you’re going to cum like this aren’t you, whore? Come on, cum all over me, show them how much you love this.” His words combined with the brutal assault on my body push me over the edge and with a desperate wail, I fall apart.

I hear him groan lowly behind me as my pussy clenches around him, my orgasm ripping through my senses. He uses my body harder than ever, treating me like a sex toy as he chases his own release. He slams himself into me one final time as he erupts, his grip bruising my arms as he keeps me in place.

I collapse against him, a boneless, overstimulated mess. He lets me down gently onto the bed, pulling out of me. The sound of his cock squelching out of my pussy makes my viewers more than aware of how well-fucked I am. He steps away from the bed and towards my filming setup. He leans into the camera and smirks.

“Let me know how else you want to see this whore fucked. If your idea is good, maybe I’ll let you come and enjoy her too.” With that, he shuts the camera off and closes out of the streaming site.

My body is still limp on the bed. I feel him settle next to me and pull me close before brushing my hair away from my forehead and kissing my nose.

“Do you think they liked me?” His murmurs.

“They loved you,” I say, breathless and drowsy from what we just did.

“I hope so, I wouldn’t want my debut on your stream to make a bad first impression,” he says, frowning down at me a little. It makes me let out a soft laugh.

I tilt my head up to kiss his jawline, “Only you would fuck the life out of me on livestream and then worry that you did a bad job.”

I giggle again and he grumbles back at me, “Shut up and sleep, I’ll clean up.” His kiss on my forehead is the last thing I remember before drifting off to sleep.

[donatellawritings]

would rafe ever actually hurt the reader or does he always say empty promises when he’s upset? would you write that? love your work xx

ugh so basically, this is the first and only time that rafe and sweetheart actually break up :(

there was only one instance where rafe had hurt you — and it was one of, if not, the only regret that will continue to haunt him, whenever you shed even a single tear. it was pretty early on in your relationship, he was still struggling to navigate how to handle someone as pure as you, while you were still finding your footing when it came to having such a volatile lover in rafe cameron. you’d been warned by your cousin, kiara — she was firm in maintaining her stance on being against you and rafe being in a relationship … you were her family, you had a heart of genuine gold, while rafe only displayed the facade of being a blood and money hungry man with incessant skeletons in his closet.

“don’t fuckin’ walk away from me, when i’m talkin’ to you,” rafe shouted, hot on your trail as you tearfully made your way into your shared bedroom. mascara-stained tears painted your once blushed cheeks with dark and watery streaks, your lip poked out in a wobbly pout as you turned to face your angered boyfriend, “of course, the baby is fuckin’ crying — i should be the one that’s fuckin’ crying after the way you walked around like a dumb slut,” he scoffed, completely unfazed by your genuine tears of sorrowful frustration. now focusing your gaze at your kitten-heel clad feet, your shoulders slumped as a choked out sob sipped from between your swollen lips.

rafe was completely coked-out, blaming his over-indulgence on the fact that it had been months since he’d been able to enjoy a night out. his usually cold, yet enticing bright blue glaze was taken over by blown pupils and bloodshot eyes that stared at you with nothing, but disdain, “y’fuckin’ look at me when i’m talking to you,” he spoke lowly, a squeaky yelp coming out of you as he gripped your jaw, forcing your head up to make direct eye contact with him. your hand gently held onto his wrist, fat tears cascading down your waterline as rafe painfully pinched your cheeks together, “i want you to get the fuck out of my house — y’wanna fuckin’ talk to other guys while m’making us money? then fucking leave,” he spat through gritted teeth, pushing your face away as you let out a throaty cry.

that was far from the case — rafe had simply caught you making conversation with some random kook who’d failed to take the hint that not only you were uninterested, but you were rafe’s girl. but, rafe was too far gone to see anything aside from what his intoxicated mind wrongfully conjured up.

with a heaving chest, you let out a cry as you reached to grab rafe’s arm, “no, papi, i don’t want to go — please ju-just listen to me,” the second your hand touched rafe’s flexed arm, your head whipped to the side as rafe’s ring-clad hand slapped you right across your pretty face. your cheek pulsed with an aching sting as you blinked, your swollen lips parted in disbelief.

the sharp sound of rafe’s hand connecting with your face instantly caused your boyfriend to sober up, just enough for his eyes to widen in realization as he immediately approached you, “fuck, baby i didn’t mean to fuckin’—” he began, reaching an arm out to pull you into his chest, his heart sinking to his stomach as you backed away from him, bone-chilling cries leaving your mouth as you made a run for the bedroom door. “no-no, mama, please just fuckin’ listen!” he shouted, his arms successfully wrapping around you from behind as he pulled you flush against his tense chest.

“i fucking hate you, let me go!” you screamed, kicking your heeled feet as rafe tightened his hold on you, your eyes burning with reddening tears as you let out a choked sob. your cheek still pulsed as you began to sink to the floor, rafe lowering himself with his arms secured around you as you weakly clawed at his strained forearms, “please, i just want to go home,” you squeaked out, rafe’s eyes glazing over — this was supposed to be your home. you’d given up on kicking at the floor and scratching rafe’s arms, your heaving cries making you a bit sleepy as rafe wordlessly held you against him, waiting until you were calm, before he’d speak again.

tears silently rolled down rafe’s structured face as he hopelessly clung to you. you had every right to hate him and he accepted that, but the possibility of you leaving him for good was really starting to bite at him. with a shaky sigh, rafe leaned his forehead against your shoulder, “baby, pl-please let’s just, let’s just go to sleep,” he whispered, his voice wobbly as he swallowed down a pathetic cry. you remained quiet as you stared at the hardwood floor that had been scuffed by your heels, your doe eyes puffy and red from all of the crying you’d done, your eyelids heavy. “m’so fuckin’ sorry,” rafe cried, feverishly pressing his lips into the back of your shoulder, over and over again, his wet eyelashes now prominent against your exposed skin.

you were completely numb, once rafe slowly rose to his feet, keeping you in his arms as he carefully removed your clothes, replacing them with one of his t-shirts, tears rolling down his face as you remained limp, your eyes blank of any recognizable emotion as you refused to look directly into his eyes. you didn’t even move when rafe softly cradled the back of your head, pressing a kiss into your forehead as you simply blinked, your wispy lashes clumped together from your warm tears. carefully leading you to your shared bed, rafe remained fully clothed in his button-up and slacks, silently thankful that you were able to fall asleep with your bruised cheek finding comfort against his cheek. he couldn’t find it in himself to sleep, once he was completely sober and of a sound mind, rafe knew that he’d completely fucked up.

this wasn’t supposed to happen, not with you. he was supposed to be different, he was supposed to be a man of dignity, yet here he was slipping into his old ways.

so, rafe was awake when you finally woke up, his heart beating just a bit quicker as you raised your head from his chest, your cheekbone a light reddish-purple shade. it wasn’t until your exhausted and strained eyes met his, that rafe wanted nothing more than to fall to his knees and beg you for your forgiveness. but, he knew he’d be selfish to expect you to forgive him, only mere hours since he’d put his hands on you. biting back tears, rafe stood from the bed, “i want to take you somewhere, baby — y’don’t have to change your clothes, just come with me to the car, yeah?” rafe held out his hand, a slight warmth fluttering in his chest as you lightly held onto his hand with a small nod.

౨ৎ

rafe was thankful that you’d fallen asleep, about five minutes into the drive. he’d been wracking over his mistake over and over again, to the point where he couldn’t even bring himself to turn the car around and drive back home with you. slowly bringing the car to a stop, rafe gently parked the car, running a hand over his shaven face with a low and shaky sigh. his tired eyes looked over your peaceful state, your puffy lips slight parted as you fell into a deep sleep. rafe’s heart ached as he gently laid a hand on your thigh, lightly nudging you out of your sleep, a sad and knowing smile tugging on his lips as you opened your eyes.

“rafe, why are we here?” you asked, your voice raspy and hoarse as your eyes glazed.

rafe had driven you home.

unbuckling his seatbelt, rafe shifted to give you his full attention, his hand bringing yours to his lips as you looked at him with tearful eyes, “i want you to listen to me, a’ight? i need to be a better man for you,” he mumbled, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, before swallowing thickly as you held in a cry, “m’gonna get my shit together, princess—” he continued, watching as you furiously shook your head. you were stubborn, but this was the one time where he needed you to listen to him.

“no, i wanna be with you — i don’t hate you, i—” you panicked, tears streaming down your face as you softly pulled your hand away from rafe’s, using both of your small hands to cover your face.

“m’gonna come and get you when i get better, okay mama? but right now, you need to go home, a’ight?” he sighed, keeping his eyes focused on the steering wheel. if he even looked at you for a second, he knew that he’d be back on the road, with you in the passenger seat, riding off into the sunset.

sniffling back a sob, you glanced at your boyfriend through cloudy eyes, “you’re breaking my heart, papi,” you cried, your puffy lips now dry as you licked over them. you wanted so bad to crawl into his lap and fall asleep, forget this all happened. unfortunately, rafe had already made up his mind.

“baby, please go home, this isn’t easy for me,” rafe spoke sternly, maintaining his gaze on the steering wheel, tears burning at his waterline as you nodded weakly, before stepping out of the car, gently closing the passenger door as you walked towards your house.

neither you nor rafe had the strength to look at each other as you made your way into your house, leaving rafe a tearful mess as he aimlessly made his way back on the road. every few minutes, he’d glance at the passenger seat, hoping that you’d magically appear next to him and be your usually smiley self, but he knew that couldn’t happen, not for a while.

rafe meant it when he said that he’d come get you, once he got better and he looked to make good on that promise. you were his sweet girl and he wouldn’t be able to live with himself, if he managed to lose you for good. he just hoped that you’d still love him, when he returned.

[withahappyrefrain]

Ruin the Friendship- Bob Floyd

Warnings: Best friends to lovers trope, it’s so obvious they love each other they’re stupid, language, filth, some angst (why not?), unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), Bob being pussy drunk.

Summary: The night before Bob leaves for Boot Camp, he's learned no one has gone down on his best friend. He's determined to fix that.

Words: 4.8K

This is for @attapullman's Bob Fucks celebration!

When you've been friends with someone since preschool, you get to know them like the back of your hand. Certain quirks and sayings that no longer surprise you. 

“God, I wish that were me.”

It wasn't the first time Bob heard you say that. Usually there was a cute dog around, or a sushi boat being delivered at a restaurant when you said it. 

But saying it during an oral sex scene in a movie was new. 

It also brought up many questions. 

Questions Bob shouldn't ask, considering he's known you since preschool. Questions Bob couldn't ask right now, because he was too preoccupied looking at you. 

Your eyes were fixated on the screen, focused on the actress withering. Occasionally, they would dart to the other actor who was between the actress’ thighs. Bob noticed the increased rise and fall of your chest, how your front teeth dug into your bottom lip, how when you lean forward, the v-line cut of your shirt showed off the tops of your breasts. The soft glow of the lamps highlighted the beautiful features on your face. 

All things he shouldn’t be noticing about his best friend. But then again, best friends shouldn’t be watching a French film together whose plot line focused on sexual liberation before he went off to Navy boot camp. 

Granted, you and Bob haven’t had a conventional best friend relationship in a while, if at all, considering both sets of parents claimed you two promised to marry each other at the age of four. 

Promises or not, best friends shouldn’t be one another’s first kiss. Or make out practice partners. Or each other’s New Year's kiss when y'all were single. Or spend Valentine's Day together at the local dinner. 

The line between friends and something more was blurry, saved by a comment that ensured the other to think that the feelings that had been brewing weren't reciprocated. 

“You’re a good kisser. Kelsey McCoy is going to think so too.”

“If Tommy Delaine doesn't like you, he's a dumbass.” 

“I’m sure next year you’ll have someone.”

“If I had to spend it with anyone, I want it to be with my best friend.”

“You’re an amazing friend, you know that?”

Why say that if you harbor romantic feelings? Surely, all those kisses and talk of marriage meant nothing to them. 

At least that's what the other thought. 

It's because of this blurry line that Bob doesn't bite his tongue, doesn't throw away the comment to be forgotten. Instead, he speaks up. 

“Been awhile?” 

And because it's Bob, the guy you've known your whole life, the guy you tell everything to, your response rolls off your tongue without a second thought. 

“Try never.” 

It takes Bob a moment to process your words as the way your lips wrap around the beer bottle is far too distracting. But just like processing a car accident, once it registers, your words bring his brain to a screeching halt. 

“Wait, never?” The shrug you give isn’t satisfactory. He grabs the remote to pause the movie, ignoring your cries of protest. 

“Real talk; are you saying that no one has ever gone down on you?” 

You sigh, regretting saying anything in the first place. One would think that after years of friendship, you’d know well enough that once Bob set his mind to something, he wouldn't relent until satisfied. 

You down the remnants of your beer, mentally preparing for this conversation. 

“No Robby. I've never had someone eat me out. Happy now?” Reaching for the remote was all in vain, as he just held it further away from you. 

Darn those long limbs. 

“But you've been with people…..so what did they do?” When you looked at him, there was no malice, just Bob looking genuinely baffled. His gentle blue eyes put you at ease, giving you the comfort to explain. 

“They would touch me,” you motioned to the lower half of your body, “And like finger me. Enough to get me ready, I guess.” 

Bob raised an eyebrow, “You guess?” 

College was supposed to be a time for you to explore, to figure yourself out, to interact with new people. 

And yet, when it came to the relationship aspect, everything had fizzled. You were now going into your junior year having yet to experience a meaningful romantic relationship. 

Did you just have shit luck? Or was it because your mind would wander back to a bespectacled best friend when you were in bed with someone else? 

“So instead of eating you out, which would actually be enjoyable on your end, you're telling me they just stuck their hand down there and hoped they were rubbing your clit? You didn't ever ask them to do something else?” 

Bob didn't have the pristine mouth that parents thought he possessed. You knew, and had known for a while. And yet, hearing him say the phrase your clit in his deep, slightly twangy voice felt different. 

You rubbed your thighs together. 

“Are you shaming the people I've been with or me?” 

Bob closed the difference between you and him on the couch, placing a hand on your bare knee. 

Have his hands always been so big and veiny? 

Fuck, did you have a thing for hands? 

“I'm not shaming you. I’m shaming the people you've been with because well,” he ran a hand up and down the back of his neck, “Well, I enjoy giving….I like doing it. So I guess I'm surprised other people don't?” 

His statement was shocking because everyone else you had been with viewed it as a chore, as something to use every excuse in the book to avoid doing. 

Too tired. Takes too long. Wet enough so what's the point? 

“You…like doing it?” 

The tops of his cheeks reddened, despite a smirk beginning to form, “Yeah. I like giving and I like making them feel good. It's also a confidence booster, being able to make someone fall apart with your mouth.” 

It shouldn't come as a surprise, it was Bob after all. The same Bob who always brought an extra pencil with him to algebra, in case you forgot yours. The same Bob who shared his Dunkaroos because your mom refused to buy them. The same Bob who made his dream of serving his country finally come true after years of hard work. 

He was selfless. But this didn't feel like selflessness. Hearing him talk about giving pleasure, making someone fall apart with his mouth, was different. Even his voice when he said it was different, raspier than usual. 

“Well,” you scooted closer to the edge of the couch, trying to widen the gap so he couldn't feel how hot your body was, “I can't wait ‘til I meet someone who feels the same way.” 

“You don't have to wait.” 

The grip on your beer bottle tightened, the alcohol getting caught in your throat. There's no way he could have just said that, no way he could be implying what you're thinking. 

But when you look at Bob, he was staring back with raised eyebrows and thin lips curled into a little smirk. The same look he’s given you countless times before when he mumbles a smartass comment only your ears were privy to hear. 

You heard me. 

“What-are you…” You stared at him, mouth agape. Bob appeared unphase by it, like he had just offered something totally normal and rational. 

Perhaps it was the three beers he had downed. Perhaps it was the rush of adrenaline kicking in after realizing this was his last chance at making a move before he left. 

“Wouldn't that be like crossing a line?” Your head was racing, alternating between flashbacks of when you kissed Bob and imagining what it would be like to have his mouth on your body. 

“Wouldn't be much different from what we’ve already done.” 

All the air was sucked out of the room by his comment. Because of course he wasn't doing this because he wanted to, because he wanted you. This would be meaningless, just like everything else. If you went through with this, you’d wake up the next day to Bob leaving with nothing changed, still in this seemingly endless limbo. 

Long, nimble fingers hooked themselves under your chin, gently forcing you to look up. 

The look he gave you was unfamiliar. His eyes remained focused on your face, though it seemed like they were searching. 

For what, you couldn't tell. 

After what felt like an eternity, he finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. 

“Do you want it to be different?” 

What good was telling him if he didn’t feel the same way, thus ruining a great friendship?

“Do you want it to be different Robby?” You countered back. 

He leaned in, his breath hot on your face, “I asked you first.”

He thought he had the upper hand. But you were like a lightning bug, faster.  

“I asked you second, Robby.”

Like a rubber band, the tension snapped as Bob was unable to hold back a snort of laughter. The tension left your shoulders, the sight of him laughing familiar and safe. 

“I’m going to really miss your resounding maturity,” Bob deadpanned after gaining the ability to compose himself, though a sweet crooked smile remained. 

It was now your turn to roll your eyes, though it didn’t stop the smile currently forming on your face. Seeing this side of Bob was always fun; most folks thought he was quiet and meek. The truth was that he liked to observe and didn’t find value in speaking when it wasn’t necessary. He didn’t hold back with you, didn’t feel the need to sit and observe. He truly conversed with you and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you feel special. 

He was never that way with the other girls he dated. 

“You love me,” you teased back. It was a comment you've said countless times, always with that sweet, albeit mischievous smile that made Bob's heart flutter. 

But this time instead of shaking his head or rolling his eyes, he leaned forward until your foreheads were touching. 

Seeing him up close took your breath away. You could see how his roots were beginning to darken, the blonde fading as he got older. The little scar on his chin from a BB Gun incident when he was ten. Eyes bluer than the ocean. The ends of his hair were beginning to curl, something you'd greatly miss when he'd get the military mandated buzz cut. 

“Yeah, I do.” There was no teasing in his voice. No mischief in his eyes. Instead of playfully shaking your shoulder, his hand found its way to the back of your neck, fingers cupping your warm skin. He was moving quickly, making you unable to truly process what he had just said. 

Despite it being new territory, he was handling it beautifully. You, on the other hand, were torn between wondering if your increased heart beat was medically concerning and how large Bob’s hands were. 

“You gotta….if you want to stop, tell me,” His breathing had increased, like it did when he had finished his part in the marching band. But this wasn’t marching band practice and y’all weren’t on the high school field. You were in your parents’ basement, with Bob’s lips quickly closing the gap between yours and his. 

It wasn’t your first time kissing Bob, but it might as well have been. Years of experience had given him more confidence. He knew where to put his hands now, one still on your neck to guide you, the other gripping the soft flesh of your hip. He didn’t hesitate to slide his tongue across your bottom lip, successfully driving you wild. 

When the rounded tip of his nose brushed against yours, a soft laugh escaped your lips. Bob didn’t mind, using the chance to let his tongue explore your mouth. Your body leaned towards him, hands gripping the soft fabric of his old Warped Tour T-shirt. 

“I thought you,” your words were slurred, a weak moan interrupting your speech due to his lips moving down to your neck, “Thought you were gonna eat me out.” 

Bob’s moan vibrated against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. His hands traveled to your breasts, gripping them through your T-shirt. It wasn't a hard squeeze, which is what you were used to. 

It was pleasurable. Bob was pleasurable. 

“Did none of the guys you were with do foreplay?” He asked, his hands continuing their ministrations. 

“I-fuck- yes they did, it just never took this long,” you grunted against his lips. 

“God, you have terrible taste in men.”

You wanted to let Bob know that he was now included in that group. But then his fingers hooked themselves around the band of your shorts, pulling them down. Had you known what tonight would entail, you would have opted for underwear that wasn't so worn. The long hairs on his arms tickled your sensitive skin as he moved to kneel on the floor, the cool basement air making you realize just how wet you were. 

How could he do that so quickly? 

He pinned your hips against the soft couch cushions. With anyone else, you would complain with how hard he was gripping your soft skin. But with Bob, you’d love it. It meant hand-shaped bruises that would stay after he left, reminding you of tonight. 

When his sharp nose nudged your clothed slit, a loud gasp erupted from your mouth. 

Thank god your parents were on vacation. 

His tongue was so wide as it stroked the quickly dampening fabric. How was he able to find your clit so quickly? Most struggled to find it even after your panties had been taken off. 

Bob couldn’t help but chuckle upon hearing your strained whimpers. You were practically squirming, hips erratically jerking with every touch. 

“Wha-why did you stop?” You whined, looking down to find him staring up to you. 

“Are you-I just need to know, do you still want this?” God, he was so fucking considerate. In any other moment, you’d find it endearingly sweet. 

But if his tongue felt that good against your covered cunt, you were dying to feel it without the barrier. 

“Robby, I swear to god, if you don’t eat me out, I’m going upstairs and using my vibrator,” Your voice was strained, your knuckles turning white from gripping the couch cushions.  

He laughed.  Bob knew you were bluffing. He had just gotten started and you were already so wet. 

Slowly, he took his glasses off, placing them on the coffee table behind him, making a show of it. 

“Won’t need those. I’m nearsighted after all.”

“You little-” The insult remained unsaid, as Bob pushed your underwear to the side, his mouth instantly latching onto your swollen clit. 

His mouth was warm. The pressure wasn’t too much, just enough to make you wither in pleasure. It felt so good, so fucking good. When Bob looked up, he found your mouth open, despite no sounds coming out. 

Good. 

You deserved to know what it was like, to have someone care about your pleasure, to focus solely on making you feel incredible. 

God, he could feel his cock throbbed. You looked so pretty with your eyes glazed over, mouth agape as you watched him, completely enthralled. 

And he had just gotten started. 

He wanted to do more than make you come, he wanted to blow your mind. Call it selfish, but Bob wanted to ruin you for anyone else. He had always held back his tongue when it came to the people you dated, knowing sooner or later you'd realized they weren't worth your time. 

But now he had his chance and Bob sure as hell wasn't going to let it slip away. 

The loud sound of fabric ripping broke you out of the pleasure filled haze you were in. Before you could make a sound about your now ripped underwear, your knees were pinned to your chest, giving Bob complete access to your soaked core.

“So fucking sweet,” He groaned against your cunt, sending vibrations all through your body, “Sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.” 

“Robby.” 

To say Bob dreamed of hearing you moan his name would be the understatement of the fucking century. 

Your whole body was on fire, unable to do anything else but take everything Bob was giving. 

A resounding moan fell from your lips as Bob thrusted two fingers inside you, your walls struggling to accommodate the unexpected stretch. 

Was he this thick elsewhere?

You wanted to find out. Wanted to feel it inside you, in your mouth. You shamelessly wanted it all. But you couldn’t even voice that because Bob was tracing figure eights on your clit, his fingers brushing against a spot you thought Cosmo had made up. 

Fuck, he was doing a number on you. His soft hair threaded through your fingers as you gripped the strands. Your hips involuntarily jerked upwards, desperate to get as much of Bob as possible. 

You kept expecting him to stop, considering you were wet enough for him to fuck you. That's what everyone else did. 

But Bob Floyd wasn't like everyone else. Far from it. 

He was fucking delighted to hear all the cute, strained noises coming from you as he continued.  Each time you tugged on his hair, a groan would fall from his lips. It was the prettiest sound you had ever heard. 

Why did either of you wait this long? 

You tried to communicate, to let him know you were close, tugging on his hair, trying to move away from his mouth. 

But Bob was deceivingly strong, using his free hand to pin your hip back to the couch, his mouth firmly on your pussy. 

When you looked down, you were in awe of how blissed Bob looked. His eyes were closed as his mouth remained latched to your clit. The sounds of your own wetness were obscene, but barely audible over the moans Bob was letting out. 

He really did enjoy it.

“Come. Wanna taste ya,” His voice was muffled as he added a third finger inside you. 

Worried thoughts of coming on his face left your brain as pleasure coursed through your veins. Without any warning, the band that had been tightening came undone.

Bob used both hands to hold your hips firmly in place, his tongue lapping up your release. 

You don't recall coming this hard or this long before. It wasn't a small wave, it felt like the whole damn ocean was taking you under. 

His fingers continued to stretch you open, prolonging your high. The Navy was the perfect fit for him, considering he could apparently hold his breath for an impressive amount of time. 

The soft fabric of the couch cushions brushed as the back of your head, your eyes half closed. You couldn't even voice an acknowledge when Bob’s mouth and fingers withdrew from your abused cunt. 

“You're so pretty when you come,” Bob murmured, his lips brushing against yours. 

Your hands tugged on the soft fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer. 

“M-my turn,” you whined, hips jerking up towards his. 

Bob shook his head, “Wanna be inside ya.” 

How was this the same guy who feared clowns as a kid? 

Before you could even question it, Bob had sat down on the couch, gripping your hips to help you straddle his lap. When had he taken off his jeans? How was he so quick- 

Jesus Christ, he was huge. 

“Fuck, she was right.” 

Bob looked up from where you two were about to connect, a very confused look on his face, “Excuse me?” 

“Betsey Thomas said you had a huge dick,” you confessed, wishing that you'd think before speaking for once. 

Bob’s brows knitted together in confusion, “Betsey Thomas has never seen my dick, the fuck are you talking about?” 

“Said she could tell you were packing because of the gym shorts you'd wear for PE class.” Bob signed, shaking his head as he muttered something about the required uniform. 

“I….we can unpack this later-” 

You snorted, “Why? Too busy packing here?” 

Your laughter was cut short by Bob rubbing his cock against your soaked cunt. Memories of high school escaped your brain, the only thing you could focus on now was Bob and his huge dick. 

Curious wasn't accurate. Frankly, you were desperate for him. Had been since middle school, if you were being truthful. 

“Woah, hey. Easy baby, easy,” his voice made your thighs clench, made you whine into his shoulder as you tried to line your aching hole with his cock. 

Finally, you felt him at your entrance. Slowly, he filled you up inch by inch. Every time you tried to urge him to go faster, Bob would simply shake his head before pressing a kiss against your cheek. 

“Don't want to hurt ya darlin’.” 

Darlin. You were his darlin. 

He made you feel so full, and you didn't even have it all inside of you yet. All you could do was cling to him as he whispered praises in your ears. 

Once you reached the base, it felt like you and Bob were the only ones in the world. At least, that’s what you pretended. It was better than thinking about how he would be gone for who knows how long after tonight. After boot camp was done, he would be off to train for the Navy. 

Even he didn't know when he would return home. 

It wasn't fair, finally expressing your feelings for one another just to be separated immediately after. You wanted him to stay, to go on dates with him, to visit him on the weekends when school started, just like everyone else in a long distance relationship. 

“Hey, what's wrong? Do you- we can stop if you want, it's okay.” Bob’s voice was soft, full of concern. 

His hand lifted your chin up from his shoulder, revealing your watery eyes. 

“I don't want you to go.” 

“I know,” his voice was barely a whisper, matching your volume. Long fingers gently traced over your face, as if he was trying to memorize them. 

“I know it's horrible timing, but we'll figure it out, okay? I want to figure it out with you, I promise,” He peppered your face with soft kisses, earning a small smile out of you. 

“But for now, can I make ya feel good? Because I'm willing to bet no guy has made you come while fucking ya.” 

Unlike in the past, where Bob’s smartass comments earned him a shove, you pressed your lips against his. 

“I'm gonna start moving now, okay?” Even though he warned you, nothing could have prepared you for how full Bob made you when his hips thrusted upwards. 

“You're-fuck- you feel so good, oh my God.” 

Your fingers tangled into Bob’s hair, trying to commit the feeling to memory. 

Bob was trying to do the same, his hands roaming over your body as he took in your scent. Maybe if he asked nicely, you'd let him take a bottle of your perfume with him. 

He was going to need it for the next few months. 

Your mouth clashed against his, tongue desperate to taste him. Wandering hands desperate to feel everything everywhere. 

“When-fuck- when I come back, wanna take you out. W-we can go to that Italian place by your school. The one where you have to wear a tie.” How Bob was able to talk coherently while fucking you was beyond comprehension. 

The Navy will be lucky to have his great ability to multitask. 

“Gonna bring ya flowers too. Sunflowers ‘cause they're-oh my god- you're favorite.” You didn't think you could recall your full name with the way Bob is thrusting into you, much less favorite things. 

Your walls clench around Bob’s thick cock, eliciting a desperate groan from him, rather than the instant ejaculation you were used to. 

“If you keep doing that, I'm gonna come,” Bob whined into the crook of your neck.

“That’s-shit- the point,” you grunted, your hips picking up speed. 

Bob shook his head, “Need you to come first.” 

Confusion caused you to still your hips, “Bob, I already-” 

“Don't finish that sentence, don't you dare,” Bob ended his command with a strong thrust that made you feel as if he was splitting you open on his cock. 

Your head dropped down to the crook of his neck. His skin was so warm and the smell of sage was nearly overwhelming. You knew exactly what body wash he had used, as it was the same one he wore ever since junior year, when you commented on how nice it was. 

In hindsight, it was painfully obvious. 

His lips found yours, capturing them in a desperate kiss. When you felt his fingers draw circles on your clit, you saw stars. 

You didn't know it could feel this good with someone. This was more than a quick fuck, as you actually felt cared for. It was intense, the sensitivity of your first orgasm still echoing every time the thick head of his cock brushed against your walls. 

It's audible how wet you are for Bob. He can feel it at the base of his cock, which makes him wonder what it would be like to have you on your knees, or better, your back, all spread out for him. 

“C’mon sweet girl,” he’s panting, voice desperate and raspy, “Wanna-fuck! Wanna feel you come s’bad, please, please baby.” 

Each circle drawn on your clit causes the band in your stomach to tighten. Combined with Bob’s words, you knew you wouldn't last much longer. 

“You're incredible, shit, I-fuck. All yours. Wanna be all yours. Fuck fuck fuck, clenching me so hard, fuck, don't stop.” Obscene was not a word many, if any, would use to describe Bob Floyd. 

Up until thirty minutes ago, you would have considered yourself part of that group. 

But now? Now you were falling apart on his cock. The rush of pleasure had hit like a brick, coursing through your veins. It hit harder than anything else, harder than the now banned alcohol caffeine combo drink, or any controlled substance doctors had prescribed to help you focus. 

His finger-fuck, usually you had to use two of your own- didn’t stop rubbing your clit, nor does he stop thrusting in and out of your pulsing cunt. It's almost as if-no, you know Bob’s enjoying making you feel euphoria. 

That's what blows your mind. His laser focus on your pleasure, rather than his own. Truthfully, he could have come already and you wouldn't have thought twice about it. 

But now it was all you could think about. How much he cared, how good he felt. How incredible it was for him to pull your hips flushed against his, filling you to the brim with his cock. 

“Holy shit you're so tight-I, sh-should I pull out?” 

Instead of answering, you used all your strength to rock your hips against him. Considering he made you come twice, the least you could do was help him find his release. 

Your fingers gripped his hair, tugging on the strands as your mouth clashed against his. 

The downright guttural groan he releases against your mouth has you clamping down on his cock. The motion finally leads to Bob’s undoing, causing him to come deep inside you, warmth flooding your body. 

His arms are wrapped around your body, clinging onto you as if he thinks you'll disappear if he lets go. 

You’d be a damn fool to. 

The basement is now quiet, apart from the heavy breathing coming from both you and Bob. 

After several minutes pass by, you gather the courage to break the silence, “Did you mean all that? Taking me out on a date and being mine?” 

Bob’s cheek burned a bright red as he timidly nodded his head, “I….yeah. I didn't mean to say it when we were, you know. I'm sorry.” 

You pressed a reassuring kiss to his warm cheek, “Robby, what do you feel the need to apologize for?” 

He looked up to you, those earnest blue eyes sparkling, “Shit timing?” 

“You're not wrong about that, but like you said earlier, I want to work it out with you.” Your words brought comfort, giving Bob the confidence to place a sweet kiss right on your lips. His smile was burning into yours, causing your stomach to flutter. 

“I know it's not that Italian restaurant, but can I take you out to breakfast tomorrow?” 

The local diner had been a go-to since y'all were thirteen. But this time would be different. This time you wouldn't feel the urge to look away when he caught you staring. This time neither one would correct the waitress when she'd make a comment about y'all being a cute couple. 

The soft call of your name pulled you out of your thoughts. 

“Uh can I….eat you out again? Tomorrow obviously! Like before we go to the diner?” 

Good Lord this man was going to be the death of you.

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

@ohtobeleah @sebsxphia @attapullman @ryebecca @sio-ina-bottle @rhettabbotts @callsignspark @roosterforme @lewmagoo @hangmanapologist @justabovewater20 @theharddeck @cumholland @bobfloydsbabe @sometimesanalice @heartfairy @auroralightsthesky

[diaryofaprettyprincess]

stepdad!ghost x crybaby!girly!reader where he yells at her n it scares her cuz his voice is so deep n booming n she immediately starts crying. it all starts when he’s stressed because of a ton of paperwork he has to get done by that night and he hasn’t been able to because of different things that keep popping up. on top of that, he has to watch over you because your mom is out of town for a few weeks doing god know what.

so it’s safe to say he’s beyond stressed.

it all comes crashing down when you come skipping into his at-home office, a dvd in your hand for a movie he had promised you two would watch that day—before he was emailed a ton of paperwork.

you skip over to him, a small, “what’re you doin?” leaving your lips quietly as you peer over his shoulder.

he knows you just want attention right now, and god, does he want to give it to you.

but he can’t right now, and unfortunately for you, you don’t realize it.

he replies to your question with a gruff, “paperwork.” as he rubs his temple with his index and middle.

“oh.” your reply is short, and you look down at the dvd in hand sadly. “thought we were gonna watch a movie?”

simon tries to ignore the disappointment in your voice, because he knows he would immediately drop everything for you, but he just can’t.

“i know, love, but ‘ve got so much shit to do..what about tomorrow?” he asks, now watching u walk around to the front of his desk as you lean forward on it with your hands planted on the hardwood.

“tha’s what u said yesterday..” you pout, and simon can feel his irritability building in his blood. he doesn’t want to take any of his stress out on you, but if you push further, he’s worried he might.

“i know, princess. ‘m sorry, okay? i promise we will do it tomorrow.” he is now shuffling through his work.

you hate when he isn’t paying attention to you.

your eyes burn as you begin to feel tears sprout to them.

“si..” you squeak, trying to express that you feel lonely—what, with your mom being out all of the time. however, simon seemingly ignores you, too lost in his work. trying to get his attention, you call him what you know will achieve that. “daddy, can u take a break? please?” you beg, fidgeting with the dvd case. ghost’s heart squeezes in his chest at the nickname.

he mentally shakes his head. he has to focus.

“y/n, i already gave you my answer.” he speaks, his voice edging on pure annoyance.

“b-but you promised me! you always have somethin’ more important than me!” you’re fully crying now, and simon genuinely feels bad, but he just has so much to do.

he sighs, standing up to grab a pen from the coffee table. you follow behind him, crying.

“why’re you ignorin me?” you sob, and ghost rolls his eyes. he knows if he doesn’t look at you he won’t give in.

“y/n, stop.” he spits, walking back to his desk and hunching over to sign something.

you continue blubbering nonsense until— “enough! fuckin’ christ!”

his eyes burn into yours until he sees your utter hurt and he’s immediately back-tracking.

“angel..” he says softly right before you run off, and he begins to follow until you slam your bedroom door in his face. “fuck.” he sighs, exhausted.

he knows he scared you. he’s never yelled at you like that before.

he can hear your muffled, hiccuping cries, and he rests his forehead against your door—eyes shut tightly.

he tries your door handle but it’s locked. he knows you need time to decompress right now, so he reluctantly goes back to work for another hour before checking on you.

“princess?” he knocks on your door, and he can hear the movie you two were supposed to watch playing on the tv in your room. “let me in, baby.”

he can hear the sound of you getting off of your bed, then the clicking of the door unlocking. you run immediately back to your pink bed, whimpering like a puppy out of fright.

simon sighs for what seems like the 20th time that day, sitting down on your mattress. his large hand rubbing over the expanse of your back slowly.

“sweet’art, lookat me,” he speaks softly. “didn’t mean ta scare you..’m sorry. jus’ was stressed, baby.”

you turn your head, and he can see the reddening of your puffy eyes from crying so much.

“awh, angel,” he kisses the top of your head, brushing the hair away from your face. “can you forgive me?”

his voice is so soft and gentle you want to cry some more.

you nod, chewing on your lower lip. simon’s jaw ticks as he traces his thumb over the slope of your nose and down to the cupids bow of your soft lips. “sweetest girl ever, y’know that?” he asks, and his heart flutters when you giggle.

he leans forward and gently places a small kiss on your lips.

JANDKD IDK IF I LIKE THIS BUT WHATEVER