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aerialmirrorss · 3 days ago

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𝐰 𝐢 𝐥 𝐝 𝐟 𝐥 𝐨 𝐰 𝐞 𝐫 ⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆ rafe cameron

playing: 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 by billie eilish 𝜗𝜚˚｡˚ ⋆

synopsis! rafe realizes how much he cares about you when he’s willing to put everything on the line for your safety after a leaked video gets to sarah, your best friend..

paring: rafe cameron x pogue!reader

warnings: friends? with benefits , angst , panic attack (pogue!reader) , soft(ish)!rafe (he’s bipolar ik) , sexual content + unprotected sex! , lots of praise + dirty talk , some fluff , the L word , potential stalker? , mature , 18+ (minors dni!)

word count: 7.4k

notes: this is chapter two of my nobody gets me series. click the link below to read chapter one! pls lmk if you’d like to be added to my taglist! ♡

chapter one: 𝐧 𝐨 𝐛 𝐨 𝐝 𝐲 𝐠 𝐞 𝐭 𝐬 𝐦 𝐞 ⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆

⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆

to say rafe was freaking out would be an understatement. it had been days since he’d last seen you, and the silence on your end was driving him to the edge of his sanity. not a single text, call, or word had come from you. it was like you’d vanished, and every minute without hearing from you only made his frustration worse.

he sat on the edge of his bed at tannyhill, replaying the night in his head for the hundredth time. every detail, every sound, every look—it all came flooding back, leaving him questioning everything. maybe he’d been too rough. maybe he’d misread your reactions, thinking you wanted it when in reality, you were trying to get away. the thought sent a chill down his spine.

he couldn’t sleep, couldn’t focus. he paced his room, running his hand through his hair, biting his thumbnail anxiously as he mumbled under his breath. every scenario raced through his mind, each one worse than the last.

should he text you again? call? or maybe just drive to your house and force you to talk to him? the idea of busting down your door crossed his mind more than once, his desperation teetering on obsession. he hated feeling this out of control, hated not knowing where you stood.

but above all, he hated the thought of losing you—of you slipping through his fingers without giving him the chance to make it right.

just then, as if his prayers had been answered, your name lit up his phone. a call.

for a moment, he stared at the screen, his heart hammering in his chest before he cleared his throat and steadied his hand enough to swipe the answer button. “hey,” he said, his voice softer than usual.

the silence on your end made his stomach churn. maybe you’d called by accident? but then, faintly, he heard it—your voice. it was barely a whisper, rough and broken, like you’d been crying for hours.

“i need to talk to you,” you said, the vulnerability in your tone cutting straight through him.

“yeah, okay. i’ll come to you—” he shot up from his bed, already slipping on his shoes, when you interrupted him.

“n-no,” you stammered, your voice shaky. “just meet me at the beach. i’ll send you my pin.”

before he could respond, the line went dead, leaving him in silence once again. he stood frozen for a moment, staring at his phone, his mind racing. then, without hesitation, he grabbed his keys and headed for the door. whatever this was, he wasn’t about to leave it unresolved.

you watched as the waves crashed against the shore, the rhythmic sound doing little to calm the storm inside you. with trembling hands, you adjusted your hat and pulled up the hood of your oversized sweater, trying to shield yourself from the cool night air—and maybe from your own reflection in the water. your puffy eyes told the story you didn’t want to share. if it wasn’t already obvious you’d been crying for days, you wouldn’t have bothered with the oversized sweater as a weak disguise.

you’ve been spamming sarah’s phone nonstop, sending text after text, leaving voicemails that never got a reply. it got to the point where you’re certain she’s blocked you. the silent treatment has been unbearable, eating away at you in a way you didn’t expect.

but even worse, you haven’t set foot in the chateau since it all happened. you couldn’t bring yourself to. if sarah was mad at you—and you knew she was—then the rest of them probably were too. if she told them—and she likely did—you doubted any of them would want to see you.

the thought of facing jj, of looking into his bruised eye and knowing how you betrayed him, kept you away. you didn’t deserve their forgiveness, so you didn’t ask for it. instead, you sat here, waiting for rafe, the one person you weren’t sure you could avoid any longer.

you feel a presence behind you, the weight of it heavy in the air, and you know without looking who it is. the sound of footsteps crunching softly against the sand confirms it before that presence settles beside you.

rafe doesn’t say anything at first, but you can feel his eyes on you, studying you, trying to gauge your mood. you don’t turn to face him, but out of the corner of your eye, you catch a glimpse of his expression—his furrowed brows, the slight downturn of his lips, and the unmistakable concern in his features.

your chest tightens. maybe he already knew about the video. maybe that’s why he looked like this—like he wasn’t sure what to say but felt he needed to be here.

you swallow hard, forcing the lump in your throat down, the tension stretching painfully in the quiet. “sarah knows, rafe,” you mutter finally, your voice barely above a whisper, but it feels deafening in the stillness.

you turn your head slightly to gauge his reaction, but he doesn’t give you one. his expression doesn’t change, his silence heavy and unreadable. of course he doesn’t react—you should’ve expected that.

you sigh softly, the weight of it all pressing harder against you. “there’s, um—” your voice cracks, and you pause, biting down on your trembling lip as the tears threaten to spill. “there’s a video of us. before we got in the truck. and someone sent it to her.”

you roll your lips into your mouth, trying desperately to hold yourself together, but it feels like you’re crumbling piece by piece. a single tear slips down your cheek, warm against your cold, rosy skin. you don’t wipe it away, too consumed by the weight of everything to care.

your chest feels like it’s caving in, the weight of it pressing down so hard it steals the air from your lungs. your breaths come short and shallow, each one more desperate than the last as if no matter how hard you try, you can’t pull in enough oxygen. your hands start to tremble, curling into fists at your sides, and your heart pounds so violently in your chest it feels like it might burst.

your vision starts to tunnel, the edges blurring as the crashing waves in front of you twist into an indistinguishable mess of sound and movement. your head feels light, like you’re floating and sinking at the same time, and a sharp heat spreads through your chest and throat, making it even harder to breathe.

you press your hands against your knees, trying to ground yourself, but it only makes the dizziness worse. the lump in your throat feels unbearable, choking you as tears stream uncontrollably down your face. everything feels too loud and too bright, the sound of the waves and the faint hum of rafe’s presence blending into an overwhelming cacophony.

“hey,” rafe says softly, his voice distant despite being right next to you. you barely register the warmth of his hand against your arm. “hey, look at me. breathe. just breathe.”

but you can’t. your body is out of your control, your mind spiraling into a dark abyss of guilt, fear, and panic. the more you fight it, the tighter the grip becomes, until all you can do is clutch your arms around yourself, trying to hold the pieces of you together as the panic consumes you.

rafe stands abruptly, the tension in his movements evident, before crouching down right in front of you. his hand gently cups your cheek, his thumb brushing slow, soothing strokes over your skin, an anchor in the storm of your panic.

“hey, hey, hey,” he murmurs, his voice low and steady, drawing your unfocused gaze to his. his eyes lock onto yours, grounding and intent. “look at me,” he urges, keeping his tone soft but firm.

he takes a deep inhale, exaggerating the motion so you can follow it, then exhales slowly, motioning for you to mimic him, taking your hand and putting it on his chest. “breathe with me,” he says, his own chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

your attempts are shaky at first, uneven gasps that barely resemble breaths, but you follow him. inhale. exhale. over and over. relief washes over his face as your breathing starts to regulate, the shallow gasps slowly giving way to deeper, steadier pulls of air.

“there we go,” he soothes, his thumb still tracing gentle circles on your cheek. “good job, baby.” the nickname slips out before he can stop it, but he doesn’t correct himself, too focused on calming you.

his other hand comes to rest lightly on your knee, grounding you further, his presence unwavering. “i’ve got you,” he says softly, his voice steady, as if willing you to believe it.

in that moment, as rafe watched you close your eyes, your chest rising and falling steadily again, relief softening your tear-streaked face, something inside him snapped. rage surged through him like a tidal wave, sudden and uncontrollable.

and he blamed sarah.

to him, it was her fault. she had no right to get involved, no reason to make this worse. something that was meant to stay between you and him—just you and him—was now tearing you apart. and all because of her.

his jaw clenched, his teeth grinding together as he thought about her selfishness, her spoiled sense of righteousness. it didn’t matter that she was his sister; all he could see was the way her actions had hurt you. the way she had betrayed him.

the image of you struggling to breathe, broken and panicked because of her interference, made his blood boil. it wasn’t fair. it wasn’t right. and it was enough to make him see red.

and then there was that damn video.

the thought of it made rafe’s fists clench at his sides. it wasn’t just about the invasion of privacy; it was about you—your exposure in such a vulnerable moment. the idea of someone lurking, watching, and recording without your knowledge made his blood run cold with anger.

he didn’t care about his own reputation, not in the slightest. all he cared about was you and the way it could hurt you, the way it already had hurt you.

rafe was determined to figure out who took it. he didn’t care how long it would take or what he’d have to do to get the answers. whoever it was would regret ever crossing that line. and he’d make sure of it.

rafe gently pulls you to your feet, his hands steadying you before he wraps his arms around your shoulders, drawing you into a firm, grounding hug. the warmth radiating from his body seeps into you, calming the residual tremors in your chest. his steady breathing against the top of your head is a silent reassurance that you’re okay, that he’s got you.

“you’re good,” he murmurs softly, almost to himself, as if trying to convince you both.

after a few moments, he pulls back slightly, his hands brushing your arms as he guides you toward the passenger side of his truck. he opens the door and helps you inside, his fingers lingering as he buckles your seatbelt, the light touch against your bare thighs sending goosebumps rippling across your skin. you shiver but don’t say anything, leaning back into the seat as he closes the door.

once the truck is moving, the hum of the engine fills the comfortable silence between you. you haven’t said a word since the breakdown at the beach, but rafe doesn’t push. he seems to understand that the quiet is what you need right now.

he pulls into a nearby gas station, the bright lights spilling across the truck as he puts it in park. “i’ll be quick,” he mumbles, more to himself than you, before slipping out and heading inside.

you sit there, watching him through the window as he grabs a water bottle and lingers near the snack aisle, seemingly deliberating. for a brief moment, you feel a flicker of something you can’t place—gratitude, guilt, or maybe just relief that he’s here.

inside, rafe grabs a pack of gummy worms, deciding it’s the safest option. he figures it’s something easy, something you might actually eat since he’s convinced you haven’t been eating properly these past few days. satisfied, he starts to head to the checkout when he hears it—a laugh he knows all too well, one that instantly sets him on edge.

his head snaps in the direction of the sound, and there they are—sarah and john b, standing in the same aisle he just walked out of. rafe’s jaw tightens, a flare of anger igniting in his chest. it takes everything in him not to start something right then and there.

his fists clench at his sides as he forces himself to stay composed, but the tension in his body is undeniable as he turns on his heel and strides toward her.

“i need to talk to you,” he says sharply, his voice low but firm as he approaches sarah.

sarah visibly jumps at his sudden appearance, her startled expression quickly morphing into a glare. rafe can see the way her jaw ticks, the anger bubbling just beneath the surface, mirroring his own.

she glances at john b, offering him a reassuring smile. “i’ll be right back,” she says calmly, though her tone carries an edge. reluctantly, john b stays put, watching them as sarah follows rafe to the back of the store, where the beverage aisle is quieter and out of sight.

as soon as they’re alone, rafe’s grip tightens on the gummy worms and water bottle in his hands, his knuckles turning white as he struggles for some semblance of control. his glare pierces through sarah, the tension between them thick and heavy, charged with years of unresolved resentment.

“you had no fucking right,” he growls, his voice low and venomous, the anger in his tone bubbling just beneath the surface, threatening to spill over.

sarah’s brows knit together, her own frustration flaring as she lowers her voice to a sharp whisper. “i had no right? rafe, you had no fucking right!” she hisses, her eyes blazing with anger. “my best friend of all people? are you serious? you could’ve literally chosen anyone else, anyone, but no, you always have to come after my happiness!”

her words hang heavy between them, cutting deeper than she intended. rafe’s jaw clenches, his entire body rigid as he stares at her, his anger matched only by the faint flicker of hurt she’s unknowingly struck.

“this isn’t about your happiness,” he snaps back, his voice still low but laced with venom. “this is about you sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong. you had no right to drag her into this.”

sarah crosses her arms, her glare unwavering. “and you had no right to do what you did, rafe. you knew what this would do to her, to me, to all of us. but you didn’t care, did you? because you never do.”

rafe steps closer, the tension between them nearly suffocating as his voice drops even lower, dripping with bitterness. “you think i don’t care? you have no idea what i feel, sarah. none. but you—you took it too far. that video?” his grip tightens around the items in his hands, the plastic crinkling under the pressure. “do you have any idea what that did to her? to me?”

sarah’s arms tighten around herself, but she doesn’t back down. “i didn’t take that video, rafe. don’t pin your shit on me,” she fires back, her voice steadier now, but no less angry. “you’re the one who dragged her into your bullshit. you’re the one who made her a target.”

“a target? i’ve been protecting her!” he snarls, his composure cracking as he takes another step closer. “you think i wanted this? for someone to spy on us, to send you a video like that? you have no idea what i’d do to keep her safe.”

sarah laughs bitterly, shaking her head. “protecting her? from what, rafe? from you?” her words are sharp, designed to cut, and they do. “because that’s what it looks like from where I’m standing.”

rafe’s jaw ticks, his breathing heavy, as he stares her down, trying to bite back the words that threaten to spill. “you don’t get it,” he mutters, his voice thick with frustration. “you never did. this isn’t about you, sarah.”

“no, it’s about her,” she snaps, her voice rising slightly despite her attempt to keep it contained. “my best friend, rafe. she’s not just some girl for you to fuck around with and forget about when it’s convenient. she deserves better than this—better than you.”

the words hit him harder than he expects, but he doesn’t let it show. instead, he leans in closer, his tone sharp as a blade. “and you think she needs you playing savior? she doesn’t, sarah. she’s stronger than you give her credit for.”

sarah’s face softens slightly, her anger flickering into something more conflicted, but she doesn’t back down. “if she’s so strong, then why is she breaking because of you?” she whispers, her voice quieter now but no less cutting.

rafe doesn’t answer immediately, his grip loosening as the weight of her words settles over him. for the first time, he looks away, his jaw tight as he swallows hard.

sarah sighs deeply, her anger giving way to something softer, though the tension in her shoulders remains. she looks down at her shoes for a moment before lifting her gaze to meet rafe’s, her eyes filled with something he doesn’t expect—concern.

“if you really care about her, rafe,” she says, her voice quieter now, less sharp but still firm, “you’ll leave her alone. you’re just going to take her down with you.”

her words cut deeper than he wants to admit, but he doesn’t let it show. his jaw tightens, his eyes narrowing as he shakes his head. “you don’t know what you’re talking about,” he mutters, his voice low but defensive.

“don’t i?” sarah counters, her brows furrowing. “i’ve seen it, rafe. the way you drag people into your chaos. she’s already hurting because of you—look at what’s happened these past few days! she doesn’t need this. she doesn’t need you.”

rafe flinches at the words but quickly masks it with anger. “and what? you think walking away is going to fix everything? you think i can just leave her and pretend like nothing happened?” his voice rises slightly, frustration creeping in.

“yes,” sarah replies simply, her tone steady but sad. “because if you don’t, she’s going to lose herself trying to save you. and you know that, rafe. deep down, you know that.”

rafe’s hands clench into fists, his breathing heavy as her words sink in. for a moment, he’s silent, his eyes darting away as he processes what she’s said. but instead of responding, he turns on his heel, walking away from her and toward the checkout, his mind racing with everything he doesn’t want to admit might be true.

as rafe walks toward the checkout, his thoughts are a storm of anger, guilt, and something deeper he can’t quite name. sarah’s words play over and over in his head, each repetition chipping away at his defenses. if you really care about her, you’ll leave her alone. the weight of it feels unbearable, but he pushes it down, refusing to let it show.

he pays for the water and gummy worms quickly, his mind far from the mundane transaction. the cashier’s bored expression barely registers as he grabs the bag and heads back to the truck. the short walk feels like miles, his chest tight with a mix of emotions he can’t fully unravel.

when he gets back to the truck, he opens the door and climbs in, placing the bag on the center console. you’re still in the passenger seat, curled up slightly, staring out the window at the empty gas station parking lot. the dim light casts shadows across your face, and rafe’s chest aches at the sight of you looking so small, so fragile.

“here,” he says, his voice softer than usual as he pulls out the water and gummy worms, placing them gently in your lap. “figured you should have something.”

you don’t look at him right away, your fingers hesitating before picking up the water bottle. “thanks,” you murmur, your voice barely audible, but it’s the first thing you’ve said to him since the beach. it feels like both a relief and a dagger in his chest.

rafe leans back in his seat, running a hand through his hair as silence falls between you again. he doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to fix this. sarah’s words linger in the back of his mind like a poison, making him question everything.

finally, he glances at you, his voice quieter than you’ve ever heard it. “do you… do you want me to take you home?” the question hangs in the air, heavy and uncertain, as he watches you for any sign of what you want, what you need from him.

“um—my mom and i kinda got into this fight,” you admit, your voice small, barely louder than the hum of the truck’s engine. “i really don’t want to be home right now.” your fingers fumble with the cap of the water bottle before you finally twist it open, the cool liquid soothing the dryness in your throat.

rafe glances at you briefly, nodding as he shifts the truck into gear. “tannyhill it is,” he says simply, his tone steady but softer than you expected.

soon, he’s reversing out of the gas station, the hum of the tires on the road filling the silence between you. you steal a glance at him, his profile illuminated by the dim dashboard lights. his grip on the steering wheel is firm, his jaw tight, but his expression is calm—focused, almost protective.

you sip your water quietly, the tension from earlier slowly starting to ebb away, replaced by a strange sense of relief. for all of rafe’s flaws, he always had a way of making you feel like, in the moment, nothing else could touch you.

as the truck cruises through the dark streets, you lean your head against the window, your eyes fluttering closed for a moment. the familiar scent of leather and cologne fills your senses, grounding you more than you care to admit.

you hadn’t been to tannyhill in a while, the last time being a couple of weeks ago with rafe. stepping inside now, you realize it hasn’t changed—it still holds that same strange sense of comfort, despite everything. the air smells faintly of cedar and something distinctly rafe, a mix of cologne and the warm musk of the house itself.

rafe walks in behind you, the sound of his shoes soft against the hardwood floor. he sets his keys down next to the coat hanger with a quiet clink, his movements uncharacteristically calm. you glance around as you step further into the house, your gaze catching the open laptop and scattered paperwork on the coffee table. clearly, he’d been in the middle of something important when you called.

you move to the outside balcony, sinking onto the couch there, the cool night air brushing against your skin. rafe follows shortly after, standing in the doorway for a moment before stepping onto the balcony.

your eyes flick back to the coffee table through the glass door, taking in the slight disarray of his work. he must’ve dropped everything the moment he heard your voice, and the thought makes your chest tighten, your heart swelling with an unfamiliar warmth.

“you didn’t have to stop what you were doing,” you say softly, glancing up at him.

he shrugs, leaning against the balcony railing, his expression unreadable but his voice steady. “it’s not important. you are.”

his words linger in the air between you, and for once, you don’t overthink them. you just let yourself feel the comfort of being here, the weight of the day slowly lifting.

“rafe—” you begin, your voice soft, almost hesitant.

“yeah?” he cuts in quickly, his response sharp and immediate, like he’d been waiting on edge for you to say something. his eyes search yours, his posture tense, his mind clearly elsewhere. sarah’s words are still plaguing him, the weight of them pulling him into his thoughts.

you take a small breath, steadying yourself. “thank you,” you say, your tone even softer now. “for helping me through that.”

his expression softens slightly, and he takes a step closer before sitting down on the small table in front of you, close enough that his knees brush yours. his focus is completely on you now, and the tension in his shoulders eases just a fraction.

“it’s happened before,” you admit quietly, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your sweater, “but it’s never been that…” your voice trails off, the weight of earlier still heavy in your chest.

rafe nods slowly, understanding without needing you to finish the sentence. “i know,” he says softly, his voice steady but tinged with something that sounds like regret. his gaze holds yours, unwavering. “it’s okay. you’re okay.”

his words settle over you like a blanket, grounding you in the moment. for all his rough edges, rafe had a way of being exactly what you needed when the world felt like too much. and right now, that was more than enough.

the silence stretches between you, heavy and unspoken, until rafe finally sighs, breaking it. “i saw sarah at the store,” he says, his voice low.

your gaze lifts from your fingers, which had been nervously fiddling with the hem of your sweater. sitting up straighter, you meet his eyes, searching for something in his expression. “what did she say?” you ask softly.

he exhales sharply, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “i just want you to know,” he begins, his voice steady but tense, “she’s not mad at you. she’s mad at me.” his hand clenches into a fist, his knuckles whitening as he stares down at the floor.

“sarah…” he trails off, his jaw tightening at the mere thought of her. after a beat, he continues, his voice bitter. “she thinks i’m using you to get to her.”

the words hang in the air, and for a moment, all you can do is watch him, trying to make sense of it all. “are you?” you ask, your voice quiet but firm, your gaze unwavering as you search his face.

rafe’s eyes flicker between yours, the tension in his body palpable. his jaw works for a moment, and then he finally answers, his voice steady. “no.”

the way he says it—calm, without hesitation—makes you believe him. but the weight of everything else still lingers, making the air between you feel thick and unsteady.

“rafe, it’s fine. really, I’m over it,” you say softly, trying to keep your tone light, even though it feels like there’s a weight pressing down on your chest. “if you just want to keep it casual, then we’ll leave it at that. it was the agreement in the first place, right?”

his jaw tightens, his teeth grinding together as he struggles to keep his composure. casual. the word feels like a knife twisting in his gut because it’s the opposite of what he wants.

but admitting that to you? that’s something else entirely. he almost slipped earlier—nearly spilled everything in the middle of the gas station while arguing with sarah. but here, sitting across from you, the words feel too heavy, too risky.

rafe wasn’t lying when he said he wanted to protect you. every instinct in him screamed to keep you away from his world, to shield you from the darkness that followed him everywhere he went.

“it’s not that simple,” he mutters finally, his voice low, as if he’s talking more to himself than to you. his fists clench again, the tension in his body radiating outward. “you think this is about keeping it casual? it’s not. it’s about keeping you safe.”

his eyes flick to yours, and for a moment, the mask slips completely. there’s a raw vulnerability in his expression, something he’s been trying to keep buried. “the way i live my life… it’ll ruin you,” he says, his voice cracking slightly. “and i can’t let that happen.”

your brows knit together, a confused pout forming on your lips that almost makes him cave. “if this is about stacy thornton—”

“it’s not about stacy,” he interrupts quickly, his tone sharp but not unkind. his hands move to his face, rubbing stressfully as he exhales deeply. “the reason you saw me with her that day on the golf course… it wasn’t what you think.”

you stay quiet, your gaze fixed on him as he drops his hands and meets your eyes again. “i was trying to strike a deal with her father. cameron development is his company’s biggest competitor, and if i can get close to stacy, he won’t see me as a threat, and i could blindside him,” he explains, his voice steady but laced with frustration, as though the situation is as exhausting for him as it is for you.

his hand instinctively finds your knee, his thumb tracing gentle patterns across it, grounding himself as much as you. “i don’t want anything to do with stacy, i promise,” he says, his tone softening as he looks at you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of understanding.

the sincerity in his voice, the gentle touch of his hand, and the raw honesty in his confession make it harder for you to hold onto the frustration you felt before. “then why does it feel like you’re always pushing me away?” you whisper, your voice trembling slightly.

his eyes shut softly, as if he’s trying to gather any remaining resolve he can muster. his chest rises and falls with a heavy sigh before he speaks, his voice low and unsteady. “because, baby…” the nickname slips from his lips so naturally, so effortlessly, it sends a flutter through your stomach despite the weight of the moment.

“if i don’t push you away,” he continues, his eyes opening slowly to meet yours, “then i have to let you in. and i can’t do that to you.” his voice cracks just slightly at the end, the vulnerability slipping through despite his attempts to stay composed.

his hand tightens its grip on your knee for a moment, as if anchoring himself to you, his thumb still tracing gentle patterns. “letting you in means exposing you to all of it—everything i’ve done, everything i am. and you don’t deserve that.” his voice wavers, the rawness in his tone making your chest ache.

you stare at him, your heart twisting at his words. “but don’t you see?” you whisper, leaning forward slightly, your own voice trembling. “you’re not protecting me by shutting me out, rafe. you’re just hurting me more.”

his resolve crumbles completely, the weight of holding back proving too much. he sighs softly, his hand sliding from your knee to gently grip your chin, tilting your face toward his. his eyes search yours for a moment, as if asking for permission, before leaning in and pressing his lips to yours in a soft, tentative kiss.

it’s not like the other times. this kiss isn’t rushed or heated—it’s careful, almost fragile, like he’s afraid it might break both of you if he lingers too long. his thumb brushes your jaw as his lips move against yours, and for a moment, the rest of the world fades away.

when he pulls back slightly, his forehead rests against yours, his hand still holding your chin. his voice is barely a whisper when he speaks. “i’m sorry,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your lips. “i just… i don’t know how else to show you.”

“show me what?” you whisper, your voice trembling slightly as you chew on your bottom lip, trying to steady yourself, trying to keep from closing the distance between you again.

rafe’s hand lingers on your chin, his thumb gently brushing your skin as his eyes bore into yours, raw and unguarded. he swallows hard, his voice breaking slightly as he finally says the words that have been clawing at him for what feels like forever.

“that i love you,” he murmurs, the confession hanging heavily in the air between you. his gaze doesn’t falter, watching your every reaction like he’s bracing himself for whatever comes next.

your breath catches in your throat, his words hitting you harder than you ever expected. the vulnerability in his voice, the way his hand shakes ever so slightly against your skin—it’s enough to shatter any walls you had left.

“well, i can piece it together, i’m a big girl,” you mutter, your words barely leaving your lips before you close the space between you, crashing your mouth against his without another thought.

rafe groans softly, his hands immediately finding their way into your hair, tangling in it as he pulls you closer. in one swift motion, he removes the hat from your head, tossing it aside like it’s in his way. his lips move against yours with a mixture of urgency and tenderness, his touch igniting a spark that makes your whole body feel alive.

“what are you doing to me, huh?” he mumbles against your lips, his voice low and gravelly, the words almost a plea.

you smile against his mouth, the smallest laugh escaping you before you pull back just enough to meet his eyes, your hands brushing lightly against his chest. “probably the same thing you’re doing to me,” you reply softly, your gaze flickering between his lips and his eyes.

a smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth before he pulls you back in, kissing you deeply, as if trying to make up for all the moments he held himself back.

rafe’s kisses left you dizzy, every touch, every movement pulling you deeper into him. before you even realized it, you were rolling your hips against his, your body moving instinctively, chasing the heat building between you. breathy moans slipped from your lips against his, and his hands gripped your waist firmly, guiding your movements as you straddled him.

“fuck, baby,” he groans, his head falling back slightly as he leans into the couch, his gaze flicking up to meet yours. “doing so good f’me,” he mumbles, his voice rough with pleasure.

his words send a spark through you, making your hips move more deliberately, the friction sending shivers up your spine. rafe’s eyes never leave you, dark and hooded as he watches you attempt to bounce on him, your movements unsteady as the overwhelming pleasure takes hold of you.

“that’s it,” he murmurs, his hands sliding down to grip your hips tighter, helping you find a rhythm. “so fucking perfect.” his praise only spurs you on, the intensity building with every roll of your hips, every moan that slips from both your lips. the world around you fades away, leaving just the two of you and the heat consuming you both.

the way you were squeezing around him had rafe’s jaw ticking, his self-control hanging by a thread. every movement of your hips sent shockwaves through him, and he was trying—really trying—not to lose himself and thrust into you, wanting to keep you comfortable.

but when he couldn’t hold back any longer, his hands gripped your waist firmly, flipping you so your back was splayed against the couch. before you could even process the shift, he grabbed one of the nearby pillows, sliding it under your lower back to lift your hips, positioning you for a deeper angle.

“trust me,” he murmured, his voice rough but tender, his lips brushing against your temple as he settled between your legs.

then he started moving, his pace firm and deliberate, each thrust pushing into you with an intensity that had you crying out, your moans matching the rhythm of his movements. your hands gripped his neck for support, nails digging in slightly as the new angle sent pleasure coursing through you in waves.

“fuck,” rafe groaned, his voice low and strained as he watched your body arch beneath him. “you feel so good, baby—so fucking perfect.” his words only amplified the heat pooling in your core, your moans turning into desperate gasps as he kept up the relentless pace, the balcony echoing with the sounds of skin meeting skin and your shared breaths.

“rafe, shit—don’t stop,” you beg, your voice trembling as your legs quiver around his waist, struggling to keep hold of him as he pounds into you. every thrust sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, your body arching into his as you cling to him for support.

he groans at your words, his eyes darkening as his hand slides up your body, finding its way to your neck. his fingers curl around your throat, applying just enough pressure under your jaw to make your head spin, the sensation amplifying the overwhelming heat pooling in your core.

“you like that, huh?” he mutters, his voice rough and dripping with control as he watches your face twist in pleasure beneath him. “look at you, baby, taking it so well for me.”

your eyes flutter closed as the overwhelming combination of his relentless pace and the pressure on your neck sends you spiraling closer to the edge. “rafe,” you whimper, your voice trembling, the sound barely audible over the symphony of heavy breaths and skin meeting skin.

his eyes stay locked on you, drinking in the sight of your flushed cheeks, parted lips, and trembling body beneath him. his other hand moves to press firmly on your lower stomach, the added pressure making you cry out, your back arching against the couch as the sensation intensifies everything.

“fuck,” he groans, his voice gravelly as he watches your reactions, completely entranced by the way you respond to him. “you feel that?” he mutters, his hand pressing down just a little more. “feel how deep i am?”

you can only nod weakly, your moans turning into desperate, breathless gasps as your body tightens around him, squeezing with every thrust. rafe’s jaw clenches, his own composure fraying as he drives you both closer and closer to the edge, his pace never faltering.

“come on, pretty girl,” he murmurs through gritted teeth, his tone raw and commanding. “cum for me. i’ve got you.”

his words are the final push, and your body shudders as the release crashes over you. your walls convulse around his cock, pulling a deep, guttural moan from his throat. the intensity has your head spinning, and your moans dissolve into gasps as he keeps thrusting, prolonging your high even as the overstimulation starts to set in.

rafe’s hand slips from your neck, his head dropping to rest beside yours, his breath hot against your skin. his pace falters as he feels his own release building rapidly. when your cunt squeezes him tightly on a particularly deep thrust, it sends him over the edge.

“fuck,” he groans, his hips stuttering as he spills inside of you, filling you completely. his grip on your hips tightens as he rides out the waves of his orgasm, his body trembling slightly against yours.

the room falls into a heavy silence, the only sounds the mingling of your ragged breaths and the faint hum of the crickets outside. rafe stays still for a moment, his forehead pressed against your shoulder, grounding himself before slowly pulling out to look at you, his eyes soft but unreadable.

“i’m sorry,” he murmurs, his voice soft, almost hesitant. “i didn’t mean to be rough.” his eyes scan your face intently, searching for any trace of discomfort or regret.

you let out a soft laugh, reaching up to pull his face down to yours, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. his shoulders relax, and he smiles against your mouth, the tension in his body melting away.

when you pull back, the wet sound of the kiss echoes softly in the quiet night, and a playful smirk tugs at your lips. “you’re so cute,” you tease, your voice light and full of warmth.

for the first time, you see his cheeks flush a faint shade of pink, and the sight makes you erupt into a fit of laughter. rafe huffs softly, shaking his head, but there’s a shy grin tugging at his lips that he can’t hide.

“i love you, rafe,” you say suddenly, the words falling from your lips with ease, no hesitation or doubt.

his eyes widen slightly, his expression softening as he looks at you. for a moment, he’s silent, his hand brushing against your cheek. “i love you,” he whispers, his voice rough but steady, his gaze holding yours as if to make sure you know just how much he means it.

“we’re gonna be okay,” you whisper softly, your hand coming up to caress his cheek. your thumb brushes over his skin in slow, soothing strokes, your eyes locked on his.

“yeah,” rafe murmurs, his voice dark and full of resolve, “after i kill the person who recorded you.”

your hand stills for a moment, his words making your stomach twist. you can see the tension in his jaw, the way his eyes darken at the thought, his anger simmering just beneath the surface.

“rafe,” you say softly, leaning closer to him, your tone a mixture of caution and reassurance. “that’s not how we should handle this. i just… i just want it to go away. i don’t want you to make it worse.”

his eyes flicker back to yours, softening slightly, though the fire in them doesn’t fully fade. “no one gets to do that to you,” he mutters, his hand coming up to cover yours on his cheek. “no one gets to hurt you and get away with it.”

you sigh, leaning your forehead against his. “we’ll figure it out. together. just… don’t do anything stupid, okay?”

he doesn’t answer right away, the weight of your words hanging between you. but after a moment, he nods reluctantly, his hand tightening around yours. “okay,” he finally says, his voice calm, though the tension in his tone betrays him. it’s clear he’s only agreeing to keep you at ease.

later, once you’ve fallen into a deep, peaceful sleep, rafe gently scoops you up, careful not to wake you. he carries you to his bed, tucking you under the soft duvet. his gaze lingers on your face for a moment, his expression softening as he brushes a stray strand of hair from your cheek. with a quiet sigh, he turns and closes the door behind him.

but there’s no rest for him tonight. he stalks to his office, the air around him heavy with purpose. dropping into his chair, he powers up his laptop, his jaw set as he begins sending emails and messages.

personal investigators, tech-savvy acquaintances, and anyone else who might help him track down the person responsible for the video—you’re not just a priority to him; you’re the priority.

each keystroke is filled with a quiet rage, his determination growing with every email sent. rafe won’t rest, won’t stop, until he figures out who did this to you—and makes sure they regret it.

taglist!: @loren8818181 @cherubcameron @shookyungsoo @waywarddiplomatfarmmonger-blog @furiouscopshepherduniversity @chenslucy @superswaggycooch @ggyuslovie @mileyraes @tincanhat @pinklleemonade @stylestarkey @percysley @rrosiitas @ipromiseidk @faephoria

#⋆ ˚𝐚𝐫𝐢𝜗𝜚writes #drew starkey #rafe cameron #drew starkey x y/n #drew starkey x reader #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #drew starkey fanfiction #drew starkey fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #drew starkey smut #drew starkey imagine

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 1 year ago

Note

I am not the asshole, and I think this whole thing is stupid, but I was promised that if I sent my side of things to this blog I could pick the hotel for our honeymoon, and I am marrying a man who once tried to take me BACKPACKING of all things, so this ask has become a necessity. In light of that:

AITA (I'm NOT) for planning the seating for our wedding in a logical way?

I got engaged in June, apparently in part because of my partner writing in to this blog (I don't know how to find or link to his posts, but I'm the man who got the cat to bite him, if that rings any bells?). At any rate, for the past ten weeks, I've been in the beginning stages of planning our wedding with my fiance, whom I have been secretly attempting to remove from the planning process as much as possible. I have ALREADY been given a list of his must-haves, and I AM incorporating as many of them as our budget allows. This has NOTHING to do with the emotional side of the event, and EVERYTHING to do with the fact that this is an idiot with no real planning experience or taste who thinks he knows more than me.

For the most part, this has worked very well. I'm the one who's been collating all the contact information for things, so I just replaced all the emails for the tacky companies with false addresses, responded to his inquiries as the companies to say the date was already booked or the price was outside our budget, and let him filter his way to the ones I DO like on his own. I also made a fuss about being "willing to compromise" on the few things he's picked I'm completely fine with in the hopes I can use it to make him compromise later, and have been humming portions of the songs I want on the playlist in the hopes he'll think he came up with the idea to include them himself.

None of this is the real problem. The PROBLEM is that he is deliberately ruining my seating chart, by moving our horrible friend's seat when I'm not looking.

The man in question dated both of us at one point in our VERY early 20s (both ended BADLY), is generally the messiest person we know, and will almost certainly get sloppy drunk and try to make a speech IF he does make an appearance. I'm banking on the fact that he won't, because he's also ridiculously wealthy, and will almost certainly send us some very lavish gift in lieu of coming.

He is SUPPOSED to be sitting beside my fiances aunt, at the same table as his grandmother, his work friend, and her girlfriend, because all four of these women are stone cold terrors who I believe are more than capable of keeping him in line on the slim chance he does come. My fiance INSISTS they won't be able to have any fun if they're running interference all night, and keeps moving him to sit at the head table instead. You know, where WE are. I finally caught him switching the label magnets on my planning board last night, and confronted him.

I tried leveraging how much I've been compromising already, that he's almost certainly going to RSVP no, and that I shouldn't have to deal with him on our big night. My fiance said he knew about all the fake emailing and such, and told me, and I QUOTE: "Look, the mind game shit was hot when it was just about the colour scheme or whatever, but I actually care about this. So you can suffer with everybody else, or you can do the normal thing and not invite a guy you hate to our wedding, you weirdo."

I said that if I did that, it would take out half his groomsmen, he called me an asshole and said I should go explain this to "literally any rational adult" so they could tell me I was in the wrong, and now here we are.

Would you recommend calling my fiance's bluff, since he doesn't want the man sitting near us either? Or should I focus on ensuring he'll turn down the invitation no matter what, so the matter of where he WON'T be sitting can be a moot point?

What are these acronyms?

Original post

The update

#aita #am i the asshole #the saga of proposal anon

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httpsserene · 1 year ago

Text

ʜᴛᴛᴘꜱꜱᴇʀᴇɴᴇ'ꜱ ꜰ1 ᴋɪɴᴋᴛᴏʙᴇʀ ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪᴀʟ

ᴜᴘʟᴏᴀᴅ 1 : ᴄʜᴀʀʟᴇꜱ ʟᴇᴄʟᴇʀᴄ / ᴍᴀx ᴠᴇʀꜱᴛᴀᴘᴘᴇɴ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ |ᴄᴏʀʀᴜᴘᴛɪᴏɴ ᴋɪɴᴋ

📖ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: innocent and virgin !reader has never touched herself before. she knows how to, in theory, but whenever she tries, she chickens out. her tried and true way of receiving pleasure is failing her. she thinks that maybe it's time to allow her relationship with her two respectful and experienced boyfriends, to reach the next step. and she'll find that they're very willing to teach her a few things. 📖ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: 18+ only. smut. corruption kink. orgasm delay/denial. praise kink. dom/sub undertones. hair-pulling. possessiveness. slight choking (glimpse and you miss it?). brief reference to previous dub-con (very minuscule, not charles or max). no penetrative sex. 📖ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 8k words 📖ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: charles leclerc / max verstappen x fem!black!reader 📖ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: oneshot 📖ꜱᴏᴜɴᴅᴛʀᴀᴄᴋ: all mine • brent faiyaz

ᴘʀᴇꜰᴀᴄᴇ: the strength i had to summon to post this is something crazy. it's my first smut fic if you can believe it or not, but the way i feel exposed to the world is wild. i almost forgot to include the actual kink because i got carried away, but it's there i promise you, don't get disappointed too early in! can confirm that while i was writing this i had to take several breaks and stare at the ceiling. the black!reader is vague i think, it's not noticeable until the end, but i had written it with all shades of my poc girlies in mind < 3. n e ways: hope you guys like it!

want to be added to my f1 kinktober taglist? or my general tag list? send me an ask!

huge thanks to my beta readers @lorarri and @sweetpiccolo-blog ! i appreciate y'all so much :)

cross-posted on my ao3, htpsss

here's the link to the masterlist for my f1 kinktober special, and send me a private message if you would like to be added to the list to become a beta reader in the future!!!

it’s late. you’ve kicked jimmy and sassy out of the bedroom, and locked it shut. you’re standing with your back pressed against the door, staring with unfocused eyes. you moved your stuffed animals inside the closet and had them facing the wall even though you closed the closet door. the window curtains are drawn shut, and the only light in the room is the warmth of one nightstand lamp. one of the plushest towels max owns is spread across the bed. in the center lays a single pillow.

this is the last chance you have to get off before max and charles get home in a few hours. they’ve been gone for a triple-header, and you haven’t been able to orgasm once in the near month they’ve been gone. you’ve become depraved enough to consider buying a vibrator, but all packages delivered to this apartment have to be approved by max or charles to be sent up, and you’re definitely not bold enough to go out and buy one (and risk being seen by one of their fans or have to physically talk to someone to buy one).

the obvious thing to do would be to talk to your boyfriends, and tell them that you’re ready to start exploring the sexual side of your relationship. you’ve been dating them for two years now, and you’re afraid that they’re getting tired of waiting for you to be comfortable enough to have sex with them. but, you’re also afraid that once they learn how inexperienced you really are—they’ll make fun of you, leave you, and find some other woman who knows how to please them. you know that’s outrageous and never going to happen. they’re the sweetest boys you’ve ever dated (way better than that one dude you dated who tried to get you wasted enough to persuade you into having sex with him), and they’ve been very respectful concerning your boundaries. always pulling away when they feel themselves getting hard, and constantly reminding you to tell them to stop if you feel uncomfortable and that there’s nothing wrong with that, and that they’re willing to wait as long as you need, and will continue loving you regardless even if you decide to never have sex with them. so—of course you know that they won’t be assholes about your innocence—it’s just your own self-esteem, insecurity, and overthinking that prevents you from saying you’re ready.

you make a deal with yourself. if you can’t manage to get off grinding against your pillow one last time, you’ll force yourself to sit down with your boyfriends, stare them in the eyes and state that your ready to have sex. who are you kidding—you’re going to get off right now one way or another even if it kills you, because you definitely will wither away and die if you have to have that conversation with your boyfriends.

you walk over to the bed, heart beginning to race as you start playing one of those curated “songs i’d like to be railed to” playlists, before throwing your phone somewhere up the bed. you move to straddle the pillow, and begin to calm your heartbeat. you take a few deep breaths and let your mind wander. the first thought that comes to your head is the goodbye kiss you got from your boyfriends before they left.

they had gotten all their luggage together and were pulling on their shoes at the entryway. charles was pouting at you, wide green eyes and all, “you are sure that you don’t want to come with us? for at least one of the races? we’ll be gone for almost a—“

“yes, cha. i’m sure,” you cut him off with a firm nod, “lemme give you a kiss before you leave, okay?”

charles frowned at max who laughed—like he wasn’t the one begging you to come with them last night before you all went to bed. with a little upset ‘hmph’ charles leaned down and kissed you softly. you had pulled away, only trying to give him a peck, and charles grunted disapprovingly. one of his veiny hands rose and gripped at your waist over your t-shirt, strongly pulling you forward, causing you to tumble into his chest. “oh, i am going to need more than that, mon ange,” charles smirked down at you, “i am leaving for so long, and that’s the goodbye kiss you’re leaving me with? no, i do not think so.”

you glanced away from him, cheeks beginning to become warm as you make to hide your face is his broad chest. charles tutted at you, tightening his grip on your waist, and his other hand gently pushed your head up to look at him, “c’mere and give me a real kiss, pretty girl.”

you made a suppressed little squeal in the back of your throat, a noise max and charles became very familiar with, often present when they start teasing you. you surprisingly leaned up and initiated the kiss, causing charles to let out a shocked gasp into your mouth. his hand on your waist moved lower, falling to the small of your back and pushed your body completely against his. his other hand caressed your jaw, soothing you enough to allow him to control the kiss, as he flicked his tongue at the seam of your lips. you shakily sighed, allowing him entrance and the kiss deepened, a pleased humming noise in the back of your throat escaping.

you impatiently shift side to side on top of the pillow, not yet allowing yourself to get any friction. sliding both of your hands underneath your sweater—well, max’s sweater, and you start playing with your chest. flicking gently at your nipples, just the way you like.

you could feel charles chuckle into the kiss, but you dismiss it, and keep kissing at him eagerly. however, you failed to recognize that he wasn’t laughing at you, he was laughing at max. cockily making eye-contact with him, before he let his eyes flutter shut and devoted his attention to you.

max stared on, his mouth slightly open as he watched his two loves give him a show for free. charles’ hand slipped lower, gliding over your ass, across your criminally well-fitted jeans, and found its home on the back of your thigh. max is well acquainted with how skilled charles’ mouth is, so he knows he must have done something spectacular to cause a choked-off moan to escape you, your hand raised to grab at charles’ polo in a fist, wrinkling the pressed shirt. max huffed, deciding to no longer spectate, and took the few steps to reach you across the foyer.

you let out a shocked gasp, eyes fluttering open in surprise at the feeling of your other boyfriend pressed up against your back. you attempt to break the kiss, but charles doesn’t let you. hand slipping from your cheeks to the nape of your neck, tangling in the hairs there and keeping you exactly where he wants. one of max’s hands came to rest at your hip, while the other rested on your navel. your eyes fell shut again in pleasure at how charles gently nipped at your bottom lip, and max’s presence is pushed to the back of your mind.

you didn’t register max’s hand disappearing from your abdomen, but suddenly, the air was cut with a pained moan from charles and his lips were ripped away from yours.

your eyes flew open, and max’s hand was buried in charles’ hair, tugging his head backward and maneuvering it into what must be an almost uncomfortable angle, but with how pleased charles looked—you wanted to feel it too. his eyes rolled backwards, before he pressed them shut and re-opened them to reveal dilated pupils and half-lidded lashes; panting hard, lips covered with your shared spit, and a fucked-out look in his eyes.

you struggle to pull off your sleeping shorts, eventually managing to tug them off to reveal your white cotton panties. your hand leaves your breast to touch at your heat, and you’re shocked at how wet you’ve gotten already. you use that same hand to adjust your pillow, before you let your hips fall all the way and make contact with the pillow. you sigh in relief.

now, max is the one to laugh with his hand firmly keeping charles in place. “oh, you know better than to tease me charlie…” he started, and you barely heard him. fixated on the way charles’ tongue frequently slips out to lick at his lips, but you could hear the smirk max was wearing.

“and you’re also not the only one leaving our sweet girl for a month. you should be nice and let me have a taste too, hm? isn’t that right, schatje?” he directs at charles. max’s other hand made its way up your abdomen, copping a feel at your chest, before it rested across your throat. he wasn’t squeezing at all, but the weight of his hand, how it spans across your neck, and how you can feel the strength lying underneath his skin, caused you to lose your breath. he guided your head back and dropped his to get his own goodbye kiss.

the kiss felt like it lasted for a lifetime, but realistically it had to be less than a minute of max forcing charles to watch how he ravaged your mouth, before charles started whining loudly. max patted your neck gingerly before pulling away and laughing at charles’ teary eyes. your legs were trembling and you were pretty sure if max wasn’t behind you, you would’ve fallen long ago. in one smooth motion, his hand fell to the monegasque’s throat from his hair and pulled him closer, completely sandwiching you between them, as their lips met in a wild kiss.

your hips start to rock against the pillow, keeping it slow in the beginning, learning your lesson about friction burn the last time you got too erratic with your moves too quickly.

charles—completely desperate—whined deep in his throat and max kept pulling consistently depraved moans and grunts out of your boyfriend. max’s other hand moved off of your hip to smack at charles’, a nonverbal command for him to calm down and let max take care of him. you felt charles practically vibrating against you in need, but he slowly started to calm; his posture slackening and lips slowing, allowing the dutch full control.

the two of them were completely ignoring you. caught in their own world, putting all of their energy into their kisses, and in turn gave you a front row seat to something you're never going to forget about. you felt so small in between the two of them, like the only thing that kept you from floating away is the fact that you were stuck in between their bodies.

eventually, max released his grip on charles and separated from the kiss, giving charles air to breathe. the blonde stepped backwards away from your body, and you stumbled embarrassingly. max’s hands went up to hover around your waist (suddenly so shy to touch you) to make sure you actually didn't fall. charles shook his head, physically trying to clear the haze in his mind before he stumbled away from you as well, pressing his back against the wall.

his chest was heaving with exertion, cheeks flushed a pretty red color, while his hands went to tug at his uncomfortably tight pants, failing to adjust himself to make his erection less obvious. he suddenly turns shy as well—it probably doesn’t help that max was laughing at how easy he is to turn on—, and charles tries to try and tug his shirt down to cover up his problem as best as he can.

your hips start to pick up in speed, movements more sure and less shaky. the friction between the cotton pillowcase and panties is multiplied on your cunt, and when you rock down deep enough, the catch of the panties on your clit is nearly immobilizing.

thinking about the moment before your boys left leads you into fantasizing about their dynamic, and how they are in the bedroom. that morning alone proved who was actually in charge; charles will tease and take whatever he can, as long as max allows him to. you can recall many instances of max guiding a well-fucked charles out of the bedroom and depositing him on your lap, before he went on to clean up and run the monegasque a bath.

the multiple post-sex facetimes you’ve gotten from the two when they’re across the world always starts with max softly speaking, “i’ve worn him out pretty good, but he refuses to fall asleep unless he gets to call you.” and the phone is passed to charles, who’s voice and lips are ruined to hell and you have to decipher what he’s attempting to say.

you’re starting to acclimate to the current tempo, so you pick it up another notch. you lean forward, bracing your hands on the bed for support as you focus on doing deeper and slower grinds against the pillow, allowing your clit to get constant attention.

you find comfort in the fact that charles allows max to take him to such a vulnerable state, and sometimes—you even find yourself getting jealous. you started joining them to see their aftercare for yourself, and found out that you're aching to be taken apart and put back together like max and charles do to each other.

the sound of max’s constant praises of charles being “so good for him,” and charles’s constant stream of “thank you, thank you, maxy” has you losing all train of thought.

you abandon the slow-and-steady technique, you’ve tried it several times this month and it’s failed to get you to come. you bite your lip, letting out a frustrated groan. your hips slow, and you grab the front of the pillow with one hand and pull it upwards, hoping that a tighter space allows better friction. you start moving quicker, doing smaller more shallow motions and it’s tons better. you can’t stop thinking that it would be even better to ride charles’ face.

even though your eyelids are scrunched shut, the thousands of tiktok edits you’ve seen of your boyfriends post-race; balaclava lines, sweaty, messy hair, and all—are playing behind them. you moan out desperately, toes curling in your socks. you hear the phantom noises of monegasque moans along with the imagined whispers of dutch-accented praises.

the knot in your navel tightens, your thighs begin to tremble, and you can feel yourself clenching around nothing. this is it, the feeling that’s escaped you for a month, it’s returning, you can finally come.

you start to rut against the pillow, uncaring of how your wetness has seeped into the pillow cover and sticks against your thighs—if anything, it’s just another pleasant sensation. unfiltered squeals and gasps start slipping out, you’re too blissed out to regulate your volume at this point.

but then, a minute passes and you still haven’t fallen over the precipice. it’s right there; you can see it, you can even hear it, but you can’t fucking feel it.

your moans of pleasure turn into cries of frustration. your legs start to quiver with exhaustion, and the orgasm you almost had fades. tears spill from your eyes, as you frantically rut against the soaked pillow, not caring about rhythm or technique anymore. and your chance is gone, your sobs echoing around the room at another failed attempt.

you climb off the pillow and fall on your side, crying into the towel trying to muffle your anguished noises. you have the fleeting thought to think that you're overreacting, but fuck that. you’ve literally been unwillingly denying yourself for a month.

after you’ve cried yourself out, you get up and start to clean up the mess you made. when you lean down to pick up the shorts you flung across the room, you hear jimmy and sassy start yowling outside of the room. and faintly, you hear the front door open.

fuck.

a giggle slips out of charles as the cries of the cats are heard outside of the apartment door. max shoots a glare at charles for laughing at his children, before he loses the fight and a smile slips out in response to the monegasque’s. finally managing to slip the key into the lock, max speaks, “we’re supposed to surprise her by being early, cha—maybe we should’ve let the cat’s know when we called earlier today?” they step through the threshold, quickly shutting the door behind them so the cats won’t run out. charles makes a questioning hum as they both start slipping out their jackets, “they are cats, mon minou. i do not think they care about anything other than when you come back to feed them.”

max side eyes him heavily as he squats down to untie his sneakers, and looks around slightly confused, “i think we are missing a greeting from one more kitten, wouldn't you say, charles?” the man in question nods in agreement, while finally petting jimmy and sassy to calm them down a little bit. whenever the two of them return home, you usually race to the door along with the cats. you give them warm hugs and sweet kisses, help them take their jackets off, and let them know if you cooked a meal for them, or prepared a bath.

but tonight, they don’t hear the sound of your footsteps coming towards them. it’s rare for them not to be greeted at the door, most of the time you beat them to unlocking it, with the alarm system the cats provide.

charles questions, “maybe she fell asleep? we did not tell her that we moved our flight earlier. and we did tell her to go to bed because we would be arriving late.”

max snorts disbelievingly, “when has she ever gone to bed when we’ve told her to,” he starts, “she’s probably just in the bathroom or something.”

the two spend a few minutes paying some attention to the cats, before they begin to get suspicious at the fact that you still haven’t come to welcome them back. they straighten up and start heading towards the bedroom.

max pushes the door open, and everything looks normal except for the fact that you’re nowhere to be seen. the bed is put together, one nightstand lamp is on, and the bathroom is empty. max and charles stare at each other with matching baffled expressions, before you clear your throat in the doorway.

max jumps, “shit!” and charles flinches, “oh, what the fuck!”

your giggles reverberate through the air, and the two men can only laugh along with you. “oh? so you find scaring us funny, schat?” max teases gently. you pad over to him, throwing your arms around his neck to pull him in for a tight hug, nodding softly into his neck as you breathe him in. charles huffs after he’s deemed that you spent too much time loving on max before he pulls you into his own grasp, one arm braced tightly around your waist while his other hand cradles the back of your head resting in his chest. “she’s absolutely frightening, max, can’t you tell?” he teases back, defending you jokingly.

max hums, “definitely. where were you hiding, baby?”

you freeze for second as you pull away from charles’ grasp, before stuttering your way through an explanation, “u-uh oh, i was-um, i was just in the laundry room! i was just putting a few things i had accidentally spilled uh- spilled juice on-yes juice of course, in the uh-washing machine, yes,” you nod firmly, to fully convince them.

the monegasques raises an eyebrow at you and dragged out an, “…….okay, i guess?” max follows up with a sarcastic, “yeah….we definitely believe you!”

you narrow your eyes at him, “are you calling me a liar, max? because, why would i lie about—“

charles cuts you off, turning your head back towards him as he squints at your face. he runs his thumb underneath one of your eyes, and speaks softly, “were you crying, mon ange? your eyes are red and swollen.”

you shake your head rapidly to attempt to dismiss his worry but it’s already too late. max practically teleports to your side and scans your face and with a gasp he reveals, “yes, you did cry. i can still see the tears stained on your cheeks.”

you shift uncomfortably, “yes, okay! i did cry! but it was nothing serious,” you pause and mumble the last part of your sentence, “i was just overreacting anyways, it doesn’t matter.”

max smacks his teeth at you disapprovingly, “hey, don’t be mean to yourself, schatje. anything that causes you to cry does matter. tell us, and we can try and make it better for you.” the two boys wear you down with earnest eyes; the monegasque brushes his lips against your hand comfortingly and the dutchman tucks your hair behind your ears soothingly. they wait patiently and don’t attempt to push you any further, but there’s an unspoken understanding between the two of them; they won’t let this go until you explicitly ask them two. and suddenly, your resistance falls and words start rushing out of your mouth.

“im so tired, okay? i’ve been trying for ages, ages, and i can’t get there! everytime i try, i-i-it’s like i’m right there–right there! and then it never comes! it’s torture. the harder i try to reach for it, the more it slips away, and then it doesn’t even feel good anymore! i thought this was supposed to feel good–and now what’s the point?! i don’t even wanna try again if i’m just going to be–”

“woah, woah, woah.” max cuts you off, “what are we talking about exactly, schatje? have you not been getting enough sleep or something? because we can try and–" you interrupt, “NO! i haven’t came in a MONTH! are you even listening to me?!”

charles chokes on his own breath and max damn near faints. most importantly, they’re shaken at your bluntness around the topic; every time they try to ask if you’ve been finding…relief–for lack of a better word, you tend to snap shut if they use any ‘explicit’ words with you– you tell them not to worry about it. so, to hear you say it plainly reveals how much distress this has been causing you. secondly, the thought that you’ve been desperately trying to get off for a month on your own, is a paralyzing thought. they nearly convinced themselves that you had no idea about anything sexual due to your refusal to answer any of their questions—which there would be nothing wrong with, they’d be happy to teach you how to please them and them alone. it’s a seductive thought, the fact that you’re untouched, that no man has had the opportunity to taint you and ruin your perspective on how you should receive and give pleasure. they’ve been praying for the day you’d be ready to let them teach you how to be good for them. maybe that makes them monsters, for taking advantage of your naivety and innocence, and molding you into their perfect girl, but they stopped feeling guilty for desiring this long ago.

you seem to have missed the fact that you sent their minds reeling and continue venting, “i don’t know what to do, maxy! i’ve been doing the same thing, and it’s NEVER failed me before. it’s cruel that it stopped working when you guys left me for more than a month! no matter how i did it–if i did the exact same things i’ve always been doing, or tried something new, nothing worked! i was literally just considering buying a fucking vibrator! a vibrator, charles, i’d rather run naked in the street than buy that online and have to put in this delivery address–”

charles gently presses finger against your mouth, shushing you. he pulls you into a deep hug, rubbing a hand up and down the length of your back , the motion pacifying you. he hums, and it vibrates through his chest to yours, “mmm, we’re home now, mon ange. there’s no need to run in the streets naked–” “definitely not,” max jumps in, reacting possessively at the implication of other people seeing you undressed. charles rolls his eyes and continues (like he’s not just as jealous as max), “or buy a vibrator. i know it must be so frustrating, to not cum,” you gasp softly, “especially when you’ve been edging yourself accidentally for so long, hm?”

a questioning sound slips from your lips, “hm? what’s edging? i just haven’t,” your voice drops to a whisper, “cum.” max thinks that he’s seriously fucked-up in the head, because he watches how you bury your face into charles’s chest after your whispered word, refusing to make eye contact with them out of embarrassment; and relishes at the fact that you absolutely have no idea about what exactly you’ve been doing to yourself. he’s going to enjoy ruining teaching you everything he knows.

“edging is repeated instances of sexual stimulation and stopping before your orgasm. it’s called that because you are kept ‘on the edge.’ you can do it to yourself or with others,” max states in an unfazed manner. he sees you start to relax, knowing that you find comfort in his matter-of-fact tone.

a pout lowers your lips, “who would enjoy that? it feels terrible.”

max breaks out in a grin, slipping an arm around charles and squeezing at his tapered waist, “you know somebody who enjoys it very much, liefje,” charles blushes at the sudden call out, and watches the way your eyes widen in shock. max continues, “anyways, you may find that you enjoy it when it’s done properly—with people who are experienced enough to make sure you’re feeling good and keep you feeling good… and show you how to have a proper orgasm, hm?” max segways into the important topic, not allowing you to deflect any longer.

charles stops your attempt at hiding in his broad shoulder this time around, and firmly holds your face to keep you facing max. the dutch give charles a nod of appreciation and watches how he shifts on his feet at the acknowledgement; he might have to take care of him after he’s done with you, too. max allows your eyes to avoid meeting his, letting them roam his face as you battle your own insecurity.

“liefje,” max deepens his tone, knowing how you melt at any pitch similar to his morning voice, “there is no need to be embarrassed about your virginity and innocence. you had your boundaries set, and never bent or broke them to make someone happy at the cost of your comfort. no matter how much pressure someone applied to you, you refused to let them have you in one of the most vulnerable positions you could ever be in because you felt unsure or plainly uncomfortable with them. that is something you should take pride in and no one should make a joke out of your virginity for that instance. tonight, you can still make that decision if you are not completely sure on allowing charles and i the privilege of teaching you how to feel satisfied. we will continue to wait for you; you have the power here, not charles or i. do what is best for you at this moment, and if that changes, tell us so, and we will continue or stop at your will.”

the room is silent as the three of you digest max’s spiel. charles and max seem to be completely nonchalant about the matter, but they are trying to hide how anxious they are about your possible refusal, for your sake. of course they are hoping that you’ll accept their helping hands, or lips, or tongues, or coc—but, that’s not their main intention tonight. the goal is for them to start building a deeper level of understanding and trust with you, to where you allow yourself to be in your most vulnerable state with them. and that will take time; they’re not expecting you to completely reveal your innermost workings to them instantaneously. however, they most definitely want to show you how good they can make you feel and how good you can make them feel. and once you internalize that, then they can start working on showing you the wonders of sex—or plainly put, they can start tainting you.

you nod. charles eyes brighten and his cheeks dimple with the appearance of a wild smile. he leans in to kiss you in thanks, but max halts him with one finger to the forehead and a quick ‘aht aht,’ “that won’t do, liefje, i need verbal confirmation—words, please.”

“y-you can…you can help s-show and teach me how to…how to feel good. i am ready to have…,” your voice thins out, and suddenly you shake your head, eyes meeting max’s straight on in an unusual act of confidence, clearing your throat, “i am ready for us to have—i’m ready for you to fuck me.”

max wasn’t exactly ready for that wording and faltered, a little shook. charles on the other hand has to struggle to refrain from laughter. at the mixed reaction, your bravado slips away, and you add, “please?” charles loses the laugh automatically; your timid but desperate widened brown doe eyes stare up at the two of them, flickering between them anxiously, plump lips parted with your tongue flicking out—he has a few ideas of something he can offer to keep that mouth of yours busy.

max rumbles in satisfaction, “see, that wasn’t so hard, was it pretty girl? we’ll work on that confidence of yours for sure—but, i have a few rules for you first before we get started. charles, why don’t you tell our girl the first two?”

“number one, always answer our questions with words; if you don’t, we’ll stop and wait for you to respond. two, if you feel uncomfortable at any point, tell us, and we’ll stop what we’re doing and make it better for you or stop completely if necessary,” charles answers assuredly.

you nod, and max raises an eyebrow at you, “i mean, yes!”

max praises you, “you’re already doing so good for us,” he watches your breath catch at the sentence and figures he may have another praise kink on his hands, “you wanna be a good girl and tell me what you were really doing before we came home?” your cheeks burn and your previous embarrassment returns full force, but you fight through it, not wanting to break the rules right off the bat.

“well, you remember how i said my usual method wasn’t working anymore? i wasn’t lying about that. i only g-get off when you guys leave, andidoitbygrindingonapillow—and i have to put down a towel before becauseimakeamess. so! i really was doing laundry, i just didn’t spill juice on it…i kinda, spilled on it.”

charles’ hands fall away from you in shock, and max really doesn’t know if he can handle another revelation like this from you without actually passing out. you continue to over-explain, “and i i-i didn’t even get to, y’ know (oh my god, she soaked the pillow without even cumming, max!), and i got that wet anyway…and i can’t really control it, but if you guys don’t like it i can try and—“

“NO!” “PLEASE DON’T!”

you flinch away, and they apologize heavily for their overreaction.

“please, don’t, mon ange. i can tell you that max and i aren’t ever going to hate what’s between your legs, or what comes from there,” charles suggests with a smirk, before his face shifts to a more blank state “wait. did…did you have a chance to change?” you hum a little “mm-mm” glancing down at yourself still clad in max’s sweater and cotton panties, “uhm. no, i was a little more concerned with cleaning up the bed before you guys saw it so—sorry, i’m not a little more presentable—“

“are you wearing the same panties, mon ange?”

you freeze, brain lagging at what the monegasque had noticed. “mhm, yeah,” you whisper softly, playing with the hem of the sweater self-soothingly.

“can i,” charles takes a deep breath, “can i touch you, mon coeur?”

you squeak, “yes please, charlie.”

max watches as charles places his massive hand on one of your thighs, spanning the front with no struggle, and gently caresses his hand up, slowly making his way up your thigh. charles taps two fingers gently against you, and you spread your legs a smidge wider, and the sound of your thighs peeling off one another from the stickiness you leaked, reverberates around the room. max can’t help but let a moan slip out. charles slides his hand in between your legs, both of your own hands fisting at the hem of your borrowed sweatshirt, and you gasp at the lightest touch of charles pointer and middle finger against your soaked panties. max sees charles pupils blow wide and mouth drop open in awe—and he can’t wait anymore.

max presses his front to your back, sandwiching you in between them once again, and impatiently asks, “schatje, can i?” you let out a breathy ‘yeah,’ and max doesn’t hesitate to bully his hand in between your legs as well. he cops a more generous feel of your cunt, and groans at the state of ruin your panties are in.

“liefje,” max starts, “walk with me to the bed, please.” max pulls away, and unfastens one of your hands from the sweater to guide you. you turn around stumbling through your first few steps—charles sets you upright more prepared for your legs becoming jello than you are, and helps you over to the bed, one hand firmly set on the small of your back. max sits on the edge of the bed, man spreading comfortably, and watches how your eyes automatically fall to stare at his thighs with a smirk. he glances at charles behind you, who mouths ‘can’t blame her’ with a smirk of his own. the dutch pats his lap, “c’mere and give me a kiss, pretty girl.”

you rush to sit in his lap, slowing at the last minute, not wanting to sit your full weight on him. he huffs, and grabs at your hips situating you firmly on his lap, before leaning in and kissing you stupid. your gasp of shock transforms into a hum of pleasure, letting max have complete control of the kiss. his hand comes up to rest on the back of your head and moves you exactly where he wants, sucking on your bottom lip before slipping his tongue against yours. max kisses like he’s going to run out of time, he ravishes you completely. you squirm against him, pulling away to pant against his cheek needing air. max chuckles, and you only get to whine at his teasing for half a second before charles, who’s now sitting next to max, pulls you into another kiss. charles, on the other hand, kisses like he has all the time in the world, he draws it out. he keeps the kisses slow and closed in the beginning, pausing to pull away and thumb at your lips, relishing at how they’ve already swelled from max’s abuse, the surrounding skin already beginning to turn raw and sensitive from their friction of their facial hair. he continues kissing you, all tongue and sloppy not caring about about the way your hands come up to grasp at his chest in desperation, before switching to absolutely bruise your lips by nipping and tugging at them.

your hips jump forward against max’s, and he can’t stop the groan that tumbles out. you jolt away from charles’ assault and stare at max with an embarrassed expression, “s-sorry—“ max narrows his eyes and dismisses your apology, “don’t apologize for that. you feel good, you’re allowed to show that unless i tell you differently.”

“yes, max,” you answer, even though he didn’t ask a question.

“oh, you’re such a good girl for us, liefje,” he tests. and his instincts didn’t fail him. your hips twitch against his again, and a near inaudible moan slips from your lips.

he turns towards charles, “yeah, that works doesn’t it, cha?” charles nods, eyes still stuck on your lips. max smirks at charles being completely entranced, before turning back to you and clocks the glaze beginning to form over your eyes, “alright now, liefje, i need you to pay attention to me really quickly, hm?”

you hum, bobbing your head a few times, before you manage to get out a “yes, max.”

he holds your head steady with his thumb and pointer finger gripping your chin, “i’m not going anywhere, baby, take your time and focus.” it only takes you half a minute to truly focus in after your heart stops racing to give him another verbal confirmation before he continues. “tonight, neither one of us is going to make love to you—“ your shoulders drop and a frown is quick to spread across your mouth. you really only prepared for the situation that you’d tell them you were ready, and then you’d get railed into next sunday. you start to panic; maybe you came off too depraved, and he’s letting you down slowly—

“hey, hey, hey. no overthinking yet, let him finish, mon ange,” charles calls out to you worriedly, he’s experienced the same thought process you're going through before and would rather try and prevent the self-doubt from overtaking you.

max pets at your waist over the sweater and continues, “not tonight. we’ve just gotten off a flight, and had three back to back races. it’s late, and i’m sure all three of us are tired. we should initiate something like that with a clearer mind,” you feel a little selfish now, his points very valid, “but, i still want to give you an orgasm, okay? sure, you may not be able to get off by grinding on a pillow anymore. you’ve probably just acclimated to it and need to give it a break. so, to compromise: you’ll get off by riding my thigh.”

charles and max wait for your reaction. your frown lightens into a pout, but you’re disappointment doesn’t completely fade away. “how is that any different from riding the pillow? it’s the same thing.” charles laughs shakily, “oh, mon ange. you have no idea. listen to max and give it a try before you take it off the table completely.”

you shrug, and agree, “fine. how do i….uh how do i do the thigh riding, i guess?”

charles turns to look at max, wordlessly asking for permission, and max grants it with a wave of his hand. charles scoots up closer, and shifts your straddle from max’s whole lap to his right thigh. as soon as your pantie-covered cunt firmly presses on the muscle of max’s jean-clad thigh, a soft ‘oh’ croaks out of you. max flexes and relaxes his thigh once and your hips jump up and away from him. max and charles glance at each other; you’re ridiculously sensitive, they’ll have to see if that’s your natural state or if it’s just the result of your prolonged edging and the fact that you were grinding against a pillow not too long ago. charles squeezes your hips, bringing your attention to him, “i’m going to start guiding you now, you ready, mon coeur?”

“mmm, yeah—that felt really good, i want more,” you speak timidly.

“good,” charles states, and then he pulls your hips forward dragging you against max’s thigh, and a flash of heat zings up your spine. you moan, a small, breathy exhale, and charles keeps it slow at first, not pushing you down to roughly or making the motions too quick—he wants you to learn to love the friction again. barely a minute passes before your hips start fighting charles’ guided rhythm, and a frustrated groan slips out of you, not able to fight your boyfriends grip. max clocks back in from where he was watching the pleasure start to flicker on your face and asks, “what are you supposed to do, baby?”

“more-ah, please, charlie,” you moan shakily. charles smirks, “look at you, still using your manners like a good girl—“ a louder moan echoes, “okay, okay, mon coeur. i’ll get you there, i’ll get you to cum like you need, okay? i’ll make you forget all about your manners too, hmm?”

you stopped listening to anything after charles reassured you that he’s going to get you to cum, you believe him. he adjusts his grip on your hips and starts incrementally increasing the pace and pressure for you. your moans start to become more frequent, and increasing in pitch rapidly, the drivers can tell you’re hurtling towards your long-awaited orgasm, sooner than they thought. charles slowly releases his grip on your waist letting your hips take over once he’s sure you’ve gotten the hang of it. you throw your head back in pleasure, your hips have a steady grind and…and you’re feeling good. a suprised laugh slips out of your lips at that and shifts into a sharp moan when max starts flexing his thigh rhythmically giving you a little more texture to work with. max lets his heavy hands fill in for where charles’ and presses you down into deeper slower strokes.

you cry out, it’s a little too much for you, but it feels so good, that you bear with it, they know what’s best for you, anyways. max grins down at you smugly, and you start to tear up a little; he can still feel your hips twitching away from the pressure sometimes. not wanting to push you too far with that motion alone, he lightens up on the pressure but starts bouncing his thigh. the shriek you release surprises all three of you, but you don’t run from it, if anything you lean into it more. one of your hands fists into charles’ shirt for support, and the other falls to max’s, tugging it off your left hip so you can hold it tight. max’s grin softens into a small smile and he kisses your joined hands, and charles leans into press kisses on your neck, praise slipping out of their lips freely.

“doing so good for us, pretty girl.”

“yeah, baby, that’s it. take what you need.”

“don’t be shy, let those sweet moans out for us.”

“just like that, oh! look at that, you’ve leaked all over his thigh,” charles points out. max looks down and registers that his pant leg is sticking down to his thigh and the denim has darkened with the amount of wetness. “oh, yeah. look at that, baby,” max pats on the side of your face, and you can’t even recall when you screwed your eyes shut, but you look down, and a mortified squeal leaves you. not much longer and you’ll have drowned his thigh. the dutchman sucks his teeth at you, “don’t be embarrassed, liefje. i can’t wait until i can taste it straight from the source,” he moves his other hand underneath the sweatshirt, and slips two fingers between your inner thigh while gathering your wetness. he sucks on one finger moaning explicitly at your taste, before offering both fingers to charles to clean off. the monegasque flicks his tongue out teasingly tasting them first, before he makes a quick motion of sucking them in and fully running his tongue in every crevice to get every last drop of your taste.

you moans start to become pitchy little ah-ah-ah’s, and you frantically start rabbiting your hips. you’re so close. max squeezes you hand, and starts up the praise again.

“i wasn’t joking, schatje. when i finally get my mouth on your pretty little cunt, you won’t be able to pull me off of you until i force at least three orgasms out of you.”

charles pulls off of max’s fingers and adds, “i need to give her three or four from my mouth too. i don’t think she’ll be able to handle that many.”

“yes, she can. she’s such a good girl for us, she’d let us keep going until we tell her when she’s done.”

“mmm, yeah—she’s right there, look at that cute little face she’s making.”

“her pretty little o-mouth, we should fill that up for her too.”

“thinkin i’ll fill that sweet little cunt of hers first with my dick—“

what escapes your mouth is definitely a scream, and max can’t bring himself to muffle it even though it’s the middle of the night. he pays a hefty sum of money for this penthouse, they can deal with hearing how charles and him make you scream with pleasure. your orgasm completely whites-out all of your senses; ears ringing, eyes rolled back, skin feeling raw and thighs shaking. max and charles work your hips back and forth a few more times, helping you with the aftershocks until you squirm out of their hands. you fall forward into max’s chest, body trembling, and tears streaming down your face.

max cradles you close and scratches at your head, calling your name a few times to get a gauge of how out of it you are. with no verbal response, he sends charles to get water and a towel to clean you up. max softly murmurs praises at you constantly, and charles joins in with the affirmations when he returns. the both clean you up when you’re still floating; they put you in an oversized tee, not bothering with undergarments, wiping all wetness and cream away from between your legs trying to avoid looking at your cunt directly, they even manage to get your bonnet on for you, and even have time to change the duvet before you start becoming aware again.

you turn and automatically move to snuggle into the crook of max’s neck, but he gently presses a straw to your mouth so you can hydrate after the amount of fluids you seem to have lost. your eyes open, and you croak out a disapproving hum at not being able to go to sleep, and max shakes his head at you, “drink, schat. non-negotiable, pretty girl.” after slowly draining ¾ of the bottle, you pull away and with a shattered voice, start mumbling, “thank you, thank you, thank you—“

and charles leans over to cut you off with a soft press of lips, “no, thank you for letting us give you that, mon coeur.” you hum, whispering out, “i love you, charlie. i love you, maxy.”

they both respond with resounding ‘i-love-you’s back, and start soft conversation just checking up on you before they let you fall asleep.

“i’ve never felt this good before from an orgasm,” you start, “i wanna—i wanna keep being good for you guys. i wanna learn how to feel good like this again, and i want you both to show me how because i trust you. please?”. charles and max both murmur affirmatives to you, and you continue speaking softly, “you guys can take showers now, i’ll probably be asleep before you come back.” after making sure you’re truly comfortable, max and charles head to the en-suite to take the world’s speediest shower so they can cuddle up with you sooner.

shutting the door, max and charles stare at each other in completely silence. charles starts, “are we sure that we’re the ones corrupting her and she’s not corrupting us? because, i’ve almost came in my pants three times tonight.”

max stares at charles with unseeing eyes, “i will never forgot the way she soaked my fucking leg, charles…i’m pretty sure i did come in my pants.”

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bunny-jpeg · 2 months ago

Note

Hello, I would like to order a blueberry bars, fried dough and a honey cruller with an mocha coffee, mai tai and naked & famous. It's a big order but could you please do it?

(could be the reader innocent, soft and adorable and Carlos would be the opposite, please)

I send good wishes!💓

bakery menu!!

want to submit your own order? then hit up the menu!! there are a ton of items to check out! i love writing these and thank you so much for those who have sent me things! i've grown so soft for carlos lately and been having a ball writing for him!

blueberry bars: “gonna make you a mamma and you're gonna make me a daddy.” + fried dough: "i know virginity is a stupid concept... but i want to take yours." + honey cruller: "i forget how small you are sometimes." + mocha coffee: breeding kink + naked & famous: bimbo/ditzy!reader served by carlos sainz jr (formula one)!!

cw: smut/pwp, virgin!reader, ditzy!reader, breeding kink, size difference & kink, missionary position

"so, how do you know where to go?" you asked as you practically skipped alongside your boyfriend of the last few months. the practice for monza ended a few hours earlier and now you were headed back to the ferrari motor-home, where you'd be staying for the weekend.

"go where?"

you tapped your chin, "on the track. like, how do you know to go one way instead of the other? nothing on the track is really labeled, what if you drove the entire thing backwards!"

carlos knew you were a bit... ditzy. not in a bad way, you were curious and always willing to learn. it was just that you were so painfully sweet and innocent, even down to having your virginity in tact.

he felt the need to protect you.

he wrapped a strong arm around you and kissed you on the cheek, "don't worry, i have a whole team to make sure i get where i need to go as fast as i can." he laughed a little bit before he kissed you, "i forget how small you are sometimes." his voice tinged with a certain affection.

back at the hotel room, you shrugged off carlos' jacket that he kept over your shoulders most of the evening after practice and the interviews. he seemed to be going strong for the upcoming race, which excited you greatly. when he won, you both won! you were carlos' number one fan (he agreed)!

while you were both curled up in the bedroom, you were playing with carlos' hand while he used his phone with the other. occasionally he turned the screen to you to show you a funny post on the internet. you giggled and leaned up to kiss him. it only took a few kisses before the phone was placed on the nightstand and he was crowded in your space on the bed.

he was very blunt when he asked you, "i know virginity is a stupid concept... but i want to take yours." you were transparent about being a virgin, and while carlos would take no as an answer. he wanted to take it, not out of some pride. but because he loved you. he linked his fingers with yours and leaned in to your face, "and tonight, i'm gonna make you a mamma and you're gonna make me a daddy.”

your cheeks went warm, "carlos..." you wanted to hide your face but he grasped your face to look at him. you stared into his dark eyes and you swallowed. you asked him, "you want my virginity?"

carlos replied as he leaned in, "screw that. i want you. i want to enjoy your body and feel close to you. i don't care if you're a virgin. i just want you however i can have you." he got on top of you, "what do you say? a night of good luck before the grand prix." he smiled at you in the low light of the bedroom.

"what about charles next door." you tilted your head to the shared wall of the bedrooms and almost yelped when carlos got closer once more.

"he is out tonight, visiting his friend." he chuckled as he brushed his nose up against the sensitive part of your neck, "as long as you don't yell bloody murder, no one will bother us." his hand grazed between your legs and your pulse jumped.

he smiled once more as he lips trailed your neck. you wrapped your arms around him and tried to pull his t-shirt up by the shoulders. you felt bathed in warm, a blush that was felt in your entire body.

you helped him out of his clothes and he helped you out of yours. he kissed at your heated skin and whispered small words of praise. he wanted to make sure you knew how loved you were by him.

even with your ditzy personality, how innocent you were. like the time you got shocked by how loud the car was, or when he explained to you three different times how the cars worked and each time you said the wheel looked like a wii u controller. a comment that made him laugh each time.

you laid out on the soft bed, most would kill for a bed this comfortable. you looked up at your lover, the soft light highlighted his best features. those dark eyes pulled you in as he took you by the hips and rubbed his achy cock up against your pussy.

"are you going to get me pregnant tonight, carlos?"

he chuckled and leaned forward, "not tonight. but, you like the idea? the idea of having a family with me? me getting you pregnant?" he rubbed his cock up against you. you tensed up and he coaxed, "relax, relax."

you swallowed and held onto the pillow under your head. you were stark naked and felt so vulnerable, "i do like it... the idea of you getting me pregnant." it spoke to a core instinct you had in your head. the need to be with the one you loved. the thought made your core grow hotter.

"want me to make you a mother?" he said as he rubbed up against you some more before he sank his cock into you slowly. something ran through him at the idea that he was the first person you had been with sexually. at least this capacity of sexually.

"carlos. i love you." you said softly as you felt the stretch of his cock inside of you. it made your back arch a little from the feeling, but you tried to keep your noises down. the slight pain was soon replaced with pleasure as carlos started to move his hips.

the pace was steady, not too fast, but also not painfully slow. carlos made you feel protective and cared for, even now while you were under him. the bed shifted a little under your movements and your noises were sweet.

"are you feeling alright?" he asked, he leaned closer to you. he yearned for your warmth as he made you feel good.

you nodded, "of course. i feel great." you scratched your nails across the hair on the back of his neck. he looked at you, those brown eyes held so much love.

carlos wanted to make a family with you. to call it a breeding kink felt so dirty, more dirty than it had to be. he wanted to create a family with you. not built from the product of lust, but from love and kindness. he wanted to show love to you and the child or children you had. he wanted to fill your days with love and nights with passion. he wanted you in every way he could have you. to love and protect you for the rest of his days. you had captured his heart with your genuine kindness.

he wanted you pregnant, living together. you being his beautiful, lovely wife who he adored more than anything. you gave him purpose beyond racing. you kept his heart beating. you were innocent in such a way that carlos felt protective over you. you brought love into his life and he adored every second together. even if he performed at his worst on the track, he would find comfort in your arms. and now in your pussy. he moved against you, he marginally picked up. it was a good steady pace that brought pleasure into your blood. it made your head feel a little fuzzy, but in a great way.

"carlos." you moaned, "honey."

"how does it feel?" carlos asked as he continued to move against his. he was feeling his own pleasure and knew he wasn't going to last much longer. he could feel the throb in his body.

you nodded, "feels really good, almost as good as when i do it on my own." you moaned a little bit when the pleasure zapped through your body once more. you clung to your lover and felt a sea of pleasure in your gut. you held onto him tightly and felt the pleasure hit its peak. your moan caught in your throat when you felt the climax.

"beautiful." he said softly as he continued to rut against you. his pace picked up, but was mindful about hurting you. his hips met yours as he smothered your face in kisses.

the post-orgasmic bliss felt amazing as you clung to your lover. you heard his short noises as he moved against you. he held onto your hips a bit tighter as he felt climax on the tip of his tongue. he was on a knife's edge and he pulled you into a heated kiss when he finished inside of you.

"please,please give me a baby." he panted.

you nodded dumbly, "anything you want." your eyes were half-closed from the pleasure and it only turned carlos on further. he took your virginity, "i love you."

he smiled down at you and held you in his arms. his cock still snug in your pussy. he was still painfully hard. you really have done a number to him and as he started to move for the second round. he felt an immense love for you.

"i love you too, my future wife." <3

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mostlysignssomeportents · 5 days ago

Text

Nurses whose shitty boss is a shitty app

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/12/17/loose-flapping-ends/#luigi-has-a-point

Operating a business is risky: you can't ever be sure how many customers you'll have, or what they'll show up looking for. If you guess wrong, you'll either have too few workers to serve the crowd, or you'll pay workers to stand around and wait for customers. This is true even when your "business" is a "hospital."

Capitalists hate capitalism. Capitalism is defined by risk – like the risk of competitors poaching your customers and workers. Capitalists all secretly dream of a "command economy" in which other people have to arrange their affairs to suit the capitalists' preferences, taking the risk off their shoulders. Capitalists love anti-competitive exclusivity deals with suppliers, and they really love noncompete "agreements" that ban their workers from taking better jobs:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/21/bondage-fees/#doorman-building

One of the sleaziest, most common ways for capitalists to shed risk is by shifting it onto their workers' shoulders, for example, by sending workers home on slow days and refusing to pay them for the rest of their shifts. This is easy for capitalists to do because workers have a collective action problem: for workers to force their bosses not to do this, they all have to agree to go on strike, and other workers have to honor their picket-lines. That's a lot of chivvying and bargaining and group-forming, and it's very hard. Meanwhile, the only person the boss needs to convince to screw you this way is themself.

Libertarians will insist that this is impossible, of course, because workers will just quit and go work for someone else when this happens, and so bosses will be disciplined by the competition to find workers willing to put up with their bullshit. Of course, these same libertarians will tell you that it should be legal for your boss to require you to sign a noncompete "agreement" so you can't quit and get a job elsewhere in your field. They'll also tell you that we don't need antitrust enforcement to prevent your boss from buying up all the businesses you might work for if you do manage to quit.

In practice, the only way workers have successfully resisted being burdened with their bosses' risks is by a) forming a union, and then b) using the union to lobby for strong labor laws. Labor laws aren't a substitute for a union, but they are an important backstop, and of course, if you're not unionized, labor law is all you've got.

Enter the tech-bro, app in hand. The tech-bro's most absurd (and successful) ruse is "it's not a crime, I did it with an app." As in "it's not money-laundering, I did it with an app." Or "it's not a privacy violation, I did it with an app." Or "it's not securities fraud, I did it with an app." Or "it's not price-gouging, I did it with an app," or, importantly, "it's not a labor-law violation, I did it with an app."

The point of the "gig economy" is to use the "did it with an app" trick to avoid labor laws, so that bosses can shift risks onto workers, because capitalists hate capitalism. These apps were first used to immiserate taxi-drivers, and this was so successful that it spawned a whole universe of "Uber for __________" apps that took away labor rights from other kinds of workers, from dog-groomers to carpenters.

One group of workers whose rights are being devoured by gig-work apps is nurses, which is bad news, because without nurses, I would be dead by now.

A new report from the Roosevelt Institute goes deep on the way that nurses' lives are being destroyed by gig work apps that let bosses in America's wildly dysfunctional for-profit health care industry shift risk from bosses to the hardest-working group of health care professionals:

https://rooseveltinstitute.org/publications/uber-for-nursing/

The report's authors interviewed nurses who were employed through three apps: Shiftkey, Shiftmed and Carerev, and reveal a host of risk-shifting, worker-abusing practices that has nurses working for so little that they can't afford medical insurance themselves.

Take Shiftkey: nurses are required to log into Shiftkey and indicate which shifts they are available for, and if they are assigned any of those shifts later but can't take them, their app-based score declines and they risk not being offered shifts in the future. But Shiftkey doesn't guarantee that you'll get work on any of those shifts – in other words, nurses have to pledge not to take any work during the times when Shiftkey might need them, but they only get paid for those hours where Shiftkey calls them out. Nurses assume all the risk that there won't be enough demand for their services.

Each Shiftkey nurse is offered a different pay-scale for each shift. Apps use commercially available financial data – purchased on the cheap from the chaotic, unregulated data broker sector – to predict how desperate each nurse is. The less money you have in your bank accounts and the more you owe on your credit cards, the lower the wage the app will offer you. This is a classic example of what the legal scholar Veena Dubal calls "algorithmic wage discrimination" – a form of wage theft that's supposedly legal because it's done with an app:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/12/algorithmic-wage-discrimination/#fishers-of-men

Shiftkey workers also have to bid against one another for shifts, with the job going to the worker who accepts the lowest wage. Shiftkey pays nominal wages that sound reasonable – one nurse's topline rate is $23/hour. But by payday, Shiftkey has used junk fees to scrape that rate down to the bone. Workers have to pay a daily $3.67 "safety fee" to pay for background checks, drug screening, etc. Nevermind that these tasks are only performed once per nurse, not every day – and nevermind that this is another way to force workers to assume the boss's risks. Nurses also pay daily fees for accident insurance ($2.14) and malpractice insurance ($0.21) – more employer risk being shifted onto workers. Workers also pay $2 per shift if they want to get paid on the same day – a payday lending-style usury levied against workers whose wages are priced based on their desperation. Then there's a $6/shift fee nurses pay as a finders' fee to the app, a fee that's up to $7/shift next year. All told, that $23/hour rate cashes out to $13/hour.

On top of that, gig nurses have to pay for their own uniforms, licenses, equipment and equipment, including different colored scrubs and even shoes for each hospital. And because these nurses are "their own bosses" they have to deduct their own payroll taxes from that final figure. As "self-employed" workers, they aren't entitled to overtime or worker's comp, they get no retirement plan, health insurance, sick days or vacation.

The apps sell themselves to bosses as a way to get vetted, qualified nurses, but the entire vetting process is automated. Nurses upload a laundry list of documents related to their qualifications and undergo a background check, but are never interviewed by a human. They are assessed through automated means – for example, they have to run a location-tracking app en route to callouts and their reliability scores decline if they lose mobile data service while stuck in traffic.

Shiftmed docks nurses who cancel shifts after agreeing to take them, but bosses who cancel on nurses, even at the last minute, get away at most a small penalty (having to pay for the first two hours of a canceled shift), or, more often, nothing at all. For example, bosses who book nurses through the Carerev app can cancel without penalty on a mere two hours' notice. One nurse quoted in the study describes getting up at 5AM for a 7AM shift, only to discover that the shift was canceled while she slept, leaving her without any work or pay for the day, after having made arrangements for her kid to get childcare. The nurse assumes all the risk again: blocking out a day's work, paying for childcare, altering her sleep schedule. If she cancels on Carerev, her score goes down and she will get fewer shifts in the future. But if the boss cancels, he faces no consequences.

Carerev also lets bosses send nurses home early without paying them for the whole day – and they don't pay overtime if a nurse stays after her shift ends in order to ensure that their patients are cared for. The librarian scholar Fobazi Ettarh coined the term "vocational awe" to describe how workers in caring professions will endure abusive conditions and put in unpaid overtime because of their commitment to the patrons, patients, and pupils who depend on them:

https://www.inthelibrarywiththeleadpipe.org/2018/vocational-awe/

Many of the nurses in the study report having shifts canceled on them as they pull into the hospital parking lot. Needless to say, when your shift is canceled just as it was supposed to start, it's unlikely you'll be able to book a shift at another facility.

The American healthcare industry is dominated by monopolies. First came the pharma monopolies, when pharma companies merged and merged and merged, allowing them to screw hospitals with sky-high prices. Then the hospitals gobbled each other up, merging until most regions were dominated by one or two hospital chains, who could use buyer power to get a better deal on pharma prices – but also use seller power to screw the insurers with outrageous prices for care. So the insurers merged, too, until they could fight hospital price-gouging.

Everywhere you turn in the healthcare industry, you find another monopolist: pharmacists and pharmacy benefit managers, group purchasing organizations, medical beds, saline and supplies. Monopoly begets monopoly.

(Unitedhealthcare is extraordinary in that its divisions are among the most powerful players in all of these sectors, making it a monopolist among monopolists – for example, UHC is the nation's largest employer of physicians:)

https://www.thebignewsletter.com/p/its-time-to-break-up-big-medicine

But there two key stakeholders in American health-care who can't monopolize: patients and health-care workers. We are the disorganized, loose, flapping ends at the beginning and end of the healthcare supply-chain. We are easy pickings for the monopolists in the middle, which is why patients pay more for worse care every year, and why healthcare workers get paid less for worse working conditions every year.

This is the one area where the Biden administration indisputably took action, bringing cases, making rules, and freaking out investment bankers and billionaires by repeatedly announcing that crimes were still crimes, even if you used an app to commit them.

The kind of treatment these apps mete out to nurses is illegal, app or no. In an important speech just last month, FTC commissioner Alvaro Bedoya explained how the FTC Act empowered the agency to shut down this kind of bossware because it is an "unfair and deceptive" form of competition:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/11/26/hawtch-hawtch/#you-treasure-what-you-measure

This is the kind of thing the FTC could be doing. Will Trump's FTC actually do it? The Trump campaign called the FTC "politicized" – but Trump's pick for the next FTC chair has vowed to politicize it even more:

https://theintercept.com/2024/12/18/trump-ftc-andrew-ferguson-ticket-fees/

Like Biden's FTC, Trump's FTC will have a target-rich environment if it wants to bring enforcement actions on behalf of workers. But Biden's trustbusters chose their targets by giving priority to the crooked companies that were doing the most harm to Americans, while Trump's trustbusters are more likely to give priority to the crooked companies that Trump personally dislikes:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/11/12/the-enemy-of-your-enemy/#is-your-enemy

So if one of these nursing apps pisses off Trump or one of his cronies, then yeah, maybe those nurses will get justice.

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

#pluralistic #nursing #labor #algorithmic wage discrimination #uber for nurses #wage theft #gig economy #accountability sinks #precaratization #health #health care #usausausa #guillotine watch #monopolies #ai #roosevelt institute #shiftkey #shiftmed #carerev

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lovetei · 1 year ago

Note

AaAaaaHHHHHH I loved your “Things that the citizens of the Devildom witnessed that will prove that this Human have the characters at their beck and call” post lol :P

Could you plssssss do it w the side characters? Especially barbatos I love him. He’s my bbg lol

Sure, I'm actually just waiting for someone to request it :P

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

Things that the citizens of the Devildom witnessed that will prove that this Human have the characters at their beck and call

Versions: Demon Brothers, Side Characters

Warnings: Slight yandere themes (Barbatos, Simeon)

Links: Masterlist

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

DIAVOLO

He doesn't actually like going around

Sure, it's mentioned a lot of times that he want to visit this or that

But only if you or the others are willing to come with him

Otherwise it's as boring as doing paperworks

He won't even come out to meet important personalities

They need to come to the castle themselves because there's no damn way Diavolo will actually use effort to meet people he's actually not too close to.

But when it's you?

Damn, you better bet the moment you told him "Hey, Diavolo... I'm kind of stuck in the plaza and the brothers are surely too busy to pick me up so can you send me a driver..?"

How dare you ask for a driver?

When he's literally right there?

The moment the words "I'm kind of stuck in the plaza-" He's already in his most luxurious car starting it to get his future spouse

Hell, he'll even bought a flower before getting to you

And you two will make a scene

And you two will surely make it to the news tomorrow

He'll arrive to the place in something quite formal yet still casual

With a bouquet of flowers in his hands

Like the perfect future husband he is

And open the door for you to get in

And if you're asking why Barbados didn't do anything against him...

Well, he's got a few mouse friends there for help.

Anyways, enjoy the ride

And sign the marriage papers

Please

BARBATOS

His power holds such an important role for Diavolo

He's such a powerful "demon"

It would actually be quite nice if you were just a little more closer to him

But if you are...

He's willing to use this oh so important power for you like it's just a mere toy

You fell on the stairs and someone saw it? Reversed.

You failed a test? Reversed.

You made the wrong decision? Reversed.

If Diavolo actually saw how much he's rambling the time lines just for you he'll go insane.

Hell, he'll pass out when he knows that Barbatos is letting you use his power like he's some hourglass!

But Barbatos knows you

And he likes you

He knows that someone like you won't actually take advantage of his power like that

And would always choose to do things without it

He knows that he's your last resort

And he loves it

He loves that fact that you treasure his power so much

That you treasure him so much...

His power might seem to be the most important tool for you among the other abilities the brothers and the others gave you

And so that basically puts him above the food chain

And he'll stay there

He'll make sure you will view him as important as right now

For all internity

SIMEON

He treasures himself and the people around him so much

But mostly himself

Because that's what father told them to do

He treat his body like the temple of god

He'll walk around the Devildom with pride in himself

Not too much but not too less

He knows his worth

So when he met you

Such a wonderful human

He will also teach you how to put pride in yourself

And always be proud on what you're doing

And then he'll start to get drawn to you

The body he oh so treasured now treated like a toy for you

He once valued naturality but maybe using this makeup you love so much will make him appear more attractive?

"Oh, Simeon? Did you use some foundation and mascara?! That looks so good on you!"

Yes, MC.

Just look at him

It all started with dressing up more for you

Then it escalated

The body he once didn't let anyone touch is now open for you

Just for you

Hold his hand

Grab his waist

And use his shoulders

Ha...

God won't punish him for a little touch now would he..?

SOLOMON

He's shady and he knows it

It's been so long and he's been around may too many people

He doesn't know who to trust anymore

And who to be honest with

He always have to keep himself alarmed and ready

Because that's what the past taught him to do

And that's what the present is telling him to do

Oh, another human?

How nice...

He just hope you don't end up like him

Overly conscious

You know what... He'll help you

He doesn't want a human to fall to the same hole he is right now

He thought that he'll be the one to guide you

He didn't know that you'll guide him...

And now he's willing to do anything for you

He's willing to follow you anywhere

He's willing to give you anything

He's willing to be your loyal servant

Just like Barbatos, he's willing to use everything he have just keep you by his side

Whether it be human, demon, angel connections, money or power

It can be anything and he'll give it you

To the human who showed him the light once again.

MEPHISTOPHELES

He's a private person

That's why he has a whole ass room reserved just for him in the academy

It can't help but have his blood boiling whenever one of the brothers barging into his room unannounced

The sense of nervousness won't leave him whenever Diavolo came to visit him

And the mixed feelings when the other exchange students decided to drop by

But when you enter his room

The light started to get a little darker

And the atmosphere turned into something heavier yet more comforting feeling

Have you drank anything you're not supposed to drink human?

What's this atmosphere around you human?

Did you... Cast a spell on him human?

To be honest

It'll be better for him to know that you cast a love spell on him

Than for him to consciously know that he's falling for you

Falling for the human others already love

But he can't help but say "Why don't you stay a little longer, MC?" Whenever you drop by.

"You can stay and do your assignments or whatever here. I have a vast collection of books you might need."

It might be selfish but why don't you stay a little longer?

Stay inside this private room with him

And only him.

RAPHAEL

He's known as a hitman

And his job down here is to probably spy on Simeon or Lucifer

But this weird human caught his eyes...

Maybe he should spy on you too?

Hmm... Why are you so different?

Are you the premium version of human?

But either way...

He saw how tired you were after each day ends

It looks like this place have sucked any living hope and energy out of you

So he took this as a problem and decided to come up with a solution

He decided to help you run around errands and even take some of your work loads

Gosh... You're so busy

So tiring

Sometimes you two will just find yourself in the dark and unused alley of the school

Sitting on the floor with each others head on your shoulder

You'd mutter "So tired..." And he will pat your head to help you at least have a few minutes of nap between work.

And before he knows it

It became a habit for the two of you

Instead of going to the dark alley you decided to take some nap in the cafeteria and even on empty classrooms

The Brothers will not found you two scattered all over the academy sleeping on each other

And before he even noticed

Whenever the slightest danger occurs he's already jumping in front of you and pushing you back as he shield your fragile body

THIRTEEN

She's such a trouble maker

And you're an expert in keeping trouble makers in line

And Thirteen will make sure she don't follow that line!

She keeps on pulling pranks

Traps here

Traps there

Gosh will she ever stop

Then one day you got so busy that your usual scolding for her didn't happened

Not even once

She felt empty without your nagging voice I guess?

But that doesn't matter!

At least, now, no one will stop her from doing what she loves!

No one...

Will stop her?

But who will scold her when she's about to do an extremely dangerous prank where she might get hurt?

Who will treat her wounds when she accidentally scratched her with one of her schemes?

It's been just a few days without your nagging voice and she's already at your doorstep in the middle of a night on a weekend asking

"Are you ignoring me?"

"Why aren't you talking to me anymore?"

"Are you tired of me now..?"

It feels like she'll start crying if she says anything more so you just denied everything and said that your schedule have been fully packed

Even saying that you're a new member of the council so you became more busy

She felt so embarrassed after that

But she started to treasure your relationship more

And maybe...

Waiting in the line is not that big of a deal if it's for you...

6K notes · View notes

cyberl6ve · 6 months ago

Text

𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐑! 𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒 ─ 𝐅 𝐄 ! 𝐍

CHECK 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 FOR MORE!! (NSFW!!)

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

── .✦ : Y/N, in need of more weed, recalls her best friend Matt Sturniolo once mentioning that his brother, Chris, could help her restock. With Chris's number saved in her phone but never having met him, Y/N decides to reach out, stepping into an unexpected world linked to her friend’s mysterious brother.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · · 𝟏𝟎𝟎 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 !! · · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

⋆˙⟡ STORY CONTAINS MATURE CONTENT !! ⋆˙⟡

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ : 𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧’𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐈’𝐦 𝐝𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬, but I need more weed. I take out my phone and scroll through my contacts until I find the number for Chris Sturniolo, my best friend Matt's brother. I've never met Chris in person before, but I've heard enough stories from Matt to know he's trouble. Despite this, I send him a text message asking if he could sell me some weed.

“Hey, is this Chris?”

A few minutes later, I get a reply from him.

“Depends. Who's asking?”

I roll my eyes at his response, but I type back anyway.

“I’m one of Matt's friend. Y/N. I need to restock my supply, and I heard you could help me out.”

There’s a bit of a pause before he replies.

“Ah, Matt’s girl. Yeah, I can hook you up. Come by my place in an hour.”

An hour later, I find myself standing outside of Chris’s house, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement. I take a deep breath and ring the doorbell. A few moments later, the door swings open and I find myself face-to-face with Chris.

“Hey there,” he says, leaning against the doorway. “You must be Y/N.”

I nod, eyeing him up and down. He's wearing a plain black hoodie and a pair of jeans, his hair tousled in that carefree way that makes girls swoon. But I'm not about to let him see that I find him attractive.

As I look at him, it's impossible to ignore the similarities between him and Matt. They share the same colored hair, the same sharp features, the same easy smile. Matt had told me once that he was an identical triplet, and seeing Chris for the first time, I could believe it.

But the differences between them are obvious too. While Matt was always friendly and approachable, Chris exudes a confident charisma that's hard to ignore. It's like he knows he can get anything he wants, and he's not afraid to use it to his advantage.

He steps aside to let me in, and I walk past him into the house. “Make yourself at home,” he says, shutting the door behind us. “Can I get you anything to drink?” I shake my head, still trying to play it cool. “I'm good,” I say.

He looks at me for a moment, his eyes roaming over my body in a way that makes me feel both self-conscious and flattered at the same time.

“So, how much do you need?” he asks. “An eighth, a quarter, a whole ounce?” I shrug, trying to act like I don't care. “Whatever you've got,” I say.

He seems amused by my nonchalance. “You don't mess around, do you? I like that.” He grins and moves closer to me, leaning against the wall.

“How about an ounce? Does that sound alright?” he asks, his voice low and silky. Despite myself, I feel a flutter in my stomach at his proximity. “Yeah, an ounce is great,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “How much will that cost me?”

He smirks and crosses his arms across his chest. “Normally it would cost you $50, but since you're a first-time buyer it's on the house.”

I shake my head, trying to keep up the nonchalant act. “No, no, I can't let you give me a free ounce,” I say. “Let me pay you something at least.”

He grins and hands me the ounce, his fingers brushing against mine as he does. “Well, you can pay me in another way, if you're willing,” he says, his voice low and sultry.

I raise an eyebrow at his words, trying not to show how much they're affecting me. “And what way would that be?” I ask, playing along.

Without warning, he takes a step forward, closing the distance between us. His gaze locks with mine as he leans in, his lips hovering just inches from my own. “Maybe I can show you,” he says, his voice a low murmur.

He closes the gap between us, his lips meeting mine in a soft, but firm kiss. I find myself melting into him, my hands moving up to wrap around his neck as we kiss. He pulls me closer to him, his arms wrapping around my waist tightly.

He deepens the kiss, his tongue slipping into my mouth. I moan softly, pressing myself against him, feeling the heat of his body against mine. For a moment, all thoughts of being nonchalant fly out of my head as I lose myself in his embrace.

As the kiss deepens, I can't help but notice how different it is from any other kiss I've had before. His lips are firm and confident, yet tinged with a hint of gentleness that I can't quite place. It's like he knows exactly what he's doing, and he's using it to his advantage. He's a far better kisser than any of the guys I've dated in the past, and I find myself getting lost in the sensation of his mouth on mine.

He breaks the kiss, but only to move his attention to my neck. His lips trail down my jawline, his teeth nipping at my skin as he sucks lightly at my pulse point. I tilt my head back, exposing more of my neck to him, unable to stop myself from letting out a soft moan.

He grins against my skin, his hands moving to my hips as he continues his assault on my neck. He kisses and sucks at the sensitive skin, his tongue darting out every now and then to tease me. His fingers dig into my hips, pressing me against him tightly, and I can feel the heat of his body through our clothes.

He pulls back from my neck for a moment, looking up at me with a sly smile. “Jump,” he says, his voice a low command. Before I can protest, he taps my thighs, signaling me to jump.

Without thinking, I obey, jumping up and wrapping my legs around his waist. He catches me easily, his hands moving to support me under my thighs, holding me tightly against him.

He moves quickly toward the stairs, carrying me with ease. His hands grip my thighs tightly as he ascends the stairs, his strides purposeful and assured. I wrap my arms around his neck, my heart racing with a mix of excitement and nerves.

We reach the top of the stairs and he turns down the hallway, stopping in front of a door at the end. Without breaking stride, he pushes the door open and carries me inside, kicking it shut behind us.

The room is dimly lit, with a king-size bed in the center. He walks over to it, still holding me in his arms, and lowers me down onto the bed. I sink into the soft comforter, my heart racing as he hovers over me, his eyes roaming over my body.

He leans down, his body pressing against mine, his weight pinning me to the bed. He kisses me hungrily, his hands roaming over my body, tracing the curves of my hips and sides. I kiss him back just as eagerly, my fingers tangling in his hair as I arch up against him.

He breaks the kiss, his lips moving down to my neck again. His hands reach up to the hem of my shirt, pulling it up over my head, exposing my bare skin to him. I shiver as his fingers trace patterns on my stomach, his touch sending jolts of electricity racing through me.

He moves down, kissing and nipping at my collarbone, his hands moving to unclasp my bra. I arch into his touch, my breath coming in short gasps as he worships my body with his mouth. He lifts his head, his eyes meeting mine as he pulls the bra off and throws it aside.

His gaze wanders down, taking in the sight of my bare chest, his pupils dilating as he takes in the sight of me. He licks his lips, his hands roaming over me once again. He touches me like he owns me, like he has the right to, and I find myself craving more of his touch.

He kisses his way down my body, his lips moving over my breasts, his tongue swirling over my nipples, making me gasp and arch up against him.

Chris's lips continue to trail downwards, his hands moving to my waistband. With a gentle tug, he slowly pulls my pants down, revealing my underwear. His breath hitches as he takes in the sight, his desire growing stronger.

With my fingers grazing the hem of his black hoodie, I slowly help him take it off, revealing his toned chest beneath. I can't help but run my hands over his bare skin, my touch sending sparks through his body.

As the hoodie comes off, I take a moment to appreciate the sight before me. His muscles tense under my touch, and I can feel his breath hitch as I trace my fingers over his chest.

I get up from the bed, my eyes locked on his. Using all my strength, I pull him up, and we stand there for a moment before I reach for his pants. Slowly, I begin to undo them, the sound of the zipper filling the room.

His pants fall to the floor, leaving him in just his boxers. I push him gently onto the bed, making sure he lands with a soft thud. As he lies there, I kneel in front of him, my hands moving to the waistband of his Calvin Klein boxers.

With a gentle tug, I pull down his boxers, revealing his erection. My eyes widen at the sight, and I can't help but let out a soft moan. His cock is hard and pulsing, begging for attention.

“Mmm, look at you,” I whisper, my hot breath caressing his sensitive skin. “So hard and ready for me. Do you want my mouth on you, baby? Do you need me to suck that big, thick cock?”

“Fuck, yes,” he groans, his hips bucking up towards me involuntarily. “I need your mouth, baby. Suck my dick, make me cum on your tongue.” His words are dripping with lust, and I can feel his desire radiating off him in waves.

I waste no time, leaning in closer and taking his throbbing head into my mouth, swirling my tongue around it as I suck. He moans loudly, his hands moving to tangle in my hair as he thrusts his hips up, trying to get more of his cock into my mouth.

“Oh, shit, yeah...just like that,” he grunts, his breathing heavy and labored. His fingers tighten in my hair, pulling slightly as he rocks his hips against my face. “Oh fuck,” he whimpers, his legs shaking as I continue to suck him off. I can feel him getting closer and closer to the edge.

I pull back just enough to tease him, then sink back down, taking him all the way to the root. He cries out in pleasure, his hips bucking wildly. “Holy fuck, Ma,” he groans, starting to fuck my mouth, unable to control himself any longer.

He starts to thrust into me harder and faster, using my mouth like a personal fuck toy. I gag and choke as he plows into me, the headboard slamming against the wall with each powerful stroke. “Ah, fuck yeah, take it all!” he growls, his eyes blazing with raw animal lust.

With a roar of primal pleasure, he slams into me one final time, his cock erupting deep in my throat as he unleashes a torrent of hot, sticky cum. I feel it pulsing and spilling over my tongue, the salty taste of him filling my mouth.

As he finishes, he slowly pulls out, his softening cock slipping from my lips with a wet pop. Gasping for air, a string of saliva and his cum connecting my mouth to his spent erection. His chest heaves as he looks at me, his eyes still glazed with lust.

He picks me up effortlessly, his strength still present and impressive, and lays me onto the bed. He then kneels between my legs, spreading them open with ease. Without a word, he yanks off the last piece of my clothing, throwing it aside carelessly with a flick of his wrist.

He smirks at me from his dominant position, admiring the view before he leans in and takes a nipple into his mouth, sucking it hard and tugging at it with his teeth. He watches my reaction, gauging how rough or gentle he should be.

Encouraged by my reactions, he moves lower, kissing and nipping his way down my body. He settles between my legs, his hot breath tickling my sensitive flesh. Without further hesitation, he dives in, his tongue lapping at my pussy, eager to taste my arousal.

“Oh no you don't, Ma,” Chris murmurs, shaking his head when he sees me closing my legs instinctively. He gently pushes them open again, keeping them spread apart. “You're going to take it,” he commands, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Like this,” he says, before he dives back in, his tongue delving deep into my core. He laps at my pussy, sucking and flicking my clit with expert precision. I gasp and writhing under his ministrations, the pleasure building inside me with each passing second.

Chris continues to feast on me, his tongue never leaving my pussy. He eats me out with reckless abandon, making sure to hit all my sweet spots. My moans fill the room as I lose myself to the pleasure, my hips bucking against his face.

His tongue continues to work its magic, his fingers joining the fray. He slides one finger inside me, then two, stretching me open as he curls them upwards, finding the rough patch on the front wall of my pussy.

Once he finds that sensitive spot, Chris focuses his attention on it, rubbing and stroking it with his fingers. He sucks my clit between his lips, drawing it into his mouth and flicking the tip of his tongue against it. The pressure builds inside me, my orgasm just out of reach.

He wipes the back of his hand across his mouth, smirking at me. He stands up, pulling my legs up with him until my knees are by my chest.

“Oh my god...” I breathe, my eyes widening as I take in the sight before me. Chris stands tall, his erection jutting out proudly, thick and long. It's clear it's not going to fit, not without some serious effort on his part. “Look at me,” he growls, positioning his cock at the entrance of my pussy. I look down, taking in his length and girth. “It's not going to fit,”

“It'll fit,” Chris grins, seeing the look of apprehension on my face. “Just relax.” He uses his thumb to rub in circles on my clit, trying to distract me as he slowly starts to push in.

“Good girl,” Chris praises, feeling me start to relax around him. He takes it slow, inch by inch. “You're doing so well, baby. Just keep breathing, and when it hurts too much just tell me to stop.”

“That's it,” he says, his voice a low rumble as he sinks deeper inside me. “You're so tight, I can barely move.” He pauses, letting me adjust to his size. “Breathe through it. It'll get easier.”

“Atta girl,” Chris coos, his voice soothing. “Just like that. You're doing so good for me.” He slowly starts to fuck me again, inch by inch, watching my face as he does so. “You feel so fucking good, baby.”

Chris' thrusts start to get deeper and faster as he gets more into it. “You like that, baby? You like the way I feel inside you?” He starts to pound me harder, using one hand to grab at my breast and tweak my nipple.

Chris smirks at the look of pleasure on my face. “You like it when I fuck you like this, don't you, Ma?” He starts really pounding me then, hard and fast. His other hand grabs at my thigh, pulling it up so he can go even deeper.

I moan his name, unable to help myself as I feel pleasure building up inside me. “Chris,” I gasp, my voice breathy. He grins at the sound, loving the way it sounds coming from my lips. “You're so fucking hot when you say my name like that.”

I reach up and grab onto Chris' bicep, holding on for dear life as he continues to fuck me hard and fast. He grunts in approval, loving the way it feels having me hold onto him like that. “That's it, baby,” he growls. “Hold onto me.”

Chris pulls out of me, grabbing onto my hips as he turns me around. He positions me on all fours before thrusting back into me from behind. “Oh fuck,” I moan, feeling him fill me up once again. Chris starts to fuck me harder than before, using my hips for leverage.

Chris grabs my wrists, pushing my hands behind my back as he arches my back. I feel his cock throbbing deep inside me as he starts to pound into me harder. “Look at that ass,” he groans, his voice low and gravelly with lust. “So perfect for me.”

Chris takes advantage of my moan, thrusting harder and deeper into me. He knows he's found a weak spot and decides to milk it. “You like that, baby?” he taunts, smacking my ass hard. The combination of pleasure and a little pain sends me reeling.

Chris chuckles darkly at my breathy moan. “That's it, baby. Take it.” He continues to pound into me relentlessly, the bed creaking beneath us. I can feel his balls slapping against my clit with every thrust, sending jolts of pleasure through my body.

Chris smirks, enjoying the power he has over me. He picks up the pace even more, the bed shaking as he fucks me harder. “You're such a good little slut for me,” he growls, reaching around to rub my clit. “You love getting fucked like this, don't you?”

Chris leans over me, his breath hot against my ear. “Tell me what you want, baby. I'll give it to you.” I gasp, my hips bucking back against him. “You want my cock deeper? You want me to make you cum?”

“Yes, please,” I whimper, my voice strained with pleasure. “I need it... need you deeper.” Chris grunts, his hips snapping forward to oblige. He's so deep now, I can feel him touching my cervix with every thrust.

Chris's thrusts become erratic, the bed shaking beneath us. I can feel his cock swelling inside me, his balls drawing up as he prepares to cum. “Fuck, Ma,” he groans, driving into me one last time and stilling.

Chris pulls out with a wet pop, cum spilling out of me and onto his black sheets. He looks down at the mess with a satisfied smirk before leaning over me again. “Ride me,” he whispers, his voice husky with desire.

I straddle Chris's hips as he lies back, his cock hard and ready beneath me. I lift myself up and sink back down, grinding against him roughly. “Mmm, fuck yes,” he moans, grabbing my hips to meet my movements.

I line myself up with his cock, slowly lowering down onto him with a loud moan. He's so big, filling me up completely and stretching me deliciously. “Oh fuck,” I gasp as he reaches up to squeeze my breasts.

I start riding him, my hips moving in a slow, steady rhythm. Chris's hands are all over me, touching and caressing every inch of my skin. “That's it, baby,” he murmurs, his eyes dark with desire. “Ride my cock like a good girl.”

Chris's hands grip my hips tightly as I bounce on top of him, his cock hitting deep inside me with each thrust. “Oh fuck, you're so tight,” he groans, his eyes locked on mine. “Take it all, Ma, milk my cock dry.”

“Mmmm, yes... so deep,” I moan, my head thrown back as Chris's cock fills me up. He's hitting all the right spots, making me whimper with pleasure. “Harder, Chris, please... I need it harder.”

Chris's hands grip my hips even tighter, pulling me down onto his cock over and over again. I can feel myself getting closer and closer to the edge, my moans growing louder and more desperate. “Fuck, yes... you're gonna make me cum,”

I lean forward, my breasts pressing against Chris's chest as I ride him harder and faster. My nails dig into his skin as I hold on for support, my body trembling with the force of my movements. “Don't stop, please... I'm so close,” I pant, my voice ragged with need.

Chris's hips slam up into me, meeting my own thrusts as we race towards the finish line together. His hands are all over me, touching and caressing every inch of my skin. “Cum for me, baby... cum all over my cock,”

Still buried deep inside me, Chris suddenly flips us over, pinning me beneath him as he continues to thrust into me relentlessly. “C’mon I know you can keep going, baby... don't even think about catching your breath,” he growls, his eyes dark with lust.

Chris reaches down, grabbing hold of my wrists and pinning them firmly above my head as he pounds into me relentlessly. The feeling of being completely at his mercy only adds to the intensity of my pleasure, and I moan loudly, arching my back as he fucks me hard and fast.

“Please, Chris, don't stop... I need this, need you,” I plead, my voice desperate and breathless. I'm completely at his mercy, unable to move my hands or break free from his grip as he continues to take me with a force that's almost brutal. “More, harder...”

The chain around Chris's neck keeps hitting against his chest as he pounds into me, adding an extra layer of stimulation that has me begging and moaning loud enough to wake the dead. “Fuck me, baby, fuck me harder!”

With a primal snarl, Chris redoubles his efforts, slamming into me with a force that makes the bed creak and the headboard hit the wall. The chain around his neck clanks rhythmically against his skin as he takes me with a raw, animal intensity. “You like that, slut?”

The filthy words only spur him on, and Chris fucks me with reckless abandon, the chain hitting a staccato beat against his chest. I'm completely lost in the sensations, my mind fogged with pleasure as I scream his name over and over again.

With a sudden surge of power, Chris releases my wrist and pushes down on my stomach, forcing me to arch my back even more as he continues to thrust into me with wild abandon. The added pressure has me seeing stars, my orgasm building to a crescendo. “Yes, yes, yes... just like that!”

As I feel my climax approaching, I reach up and grab the chain around Chris's neck, pulling him down into a searing kiss. Our tongues dance wildly together as he continues to pound into me, the chain clanking against my breasts with each powerful thrust.

As our kiss deepens, I moan into Chris's mouth, the sheer intensity of our joining overwhelming me. “This is crazy... we just met and now I'm fucking you,” I pant against his lips, the words barely coherent in my lust-fogged brain.

Chris pulls back, his eyes blazing with a feral intensity as he gazes down at me. “You're mine now, Y/N,” he growls, his voice rough with desire. “I'm going to fuck you every way I can, whenever I want.”

“You're going to be my personal plaything, Ma,” Chris continues, his words dripping with dark promise. “I'll use your tight little cunt whenever I please, make you scream my name until your throat is raw. You'll be addicted to my cock, craving it morning, noon, and night.”

I can feel my orgasm building once again as Chris talks dirty to me, his words fueling the fire burning inside of me. “Do you like that, baby?” he asks, his tone taunting and dominant. “Do you like the thought of being my personal fucktoy?”

“Yes, Chris,” I cry out, arching my back as he hits a particularly sensitive spot inside of me. “I'm your fucktoy, your slut, your dirty little secret. Do whatever you want with me, I'm yours.”

“I bet Matt hasn't even gotten to fuck this tight cunt,” Chris taunts, a smirk on his face as he thrusts into me, hitting me deeper and harder. “Tell me, Y/N, have you ever let him fuck you like this?”

I moan loudly, my voice high and needy, “No, just you. Nobody else has been inside me like this.” Chris chuckles darkly, the sound vibrating against my skin. “I guess I'm the luckiest person then, getting to claim this sweet little cunt all to myself.”

“Yes, Chris, yes!” I moan, my voice breathless with pleasure. Chris smirks, thrusting deeper into me. “Look at you letting me fuck the shit out of you for payment for an ounce of weed. You're such a dirty little slut.”

Chris leans down, whispering in my ear as he continues to thrust into me. “You like that, Ma? You like the way I fuck you hard and slow, making you take every inch? Fuck, you're so sexy, so perfect.”

Chris lets out a deep, guttural groan as my nails dig into his back. As if unable to resist, he leans down and starts leaving bite marks along the sensitive skin of my neck. I gasp at the sudden flash of pain, followed by an even more intense wave of pleasure.

Chris' thrusts become erratic, and I can feel him tensing up as he reaches his climax. “Fuck, I'm gonna cum,” he growls in my ear.

I moan out his name, “Chris!”, as the intense pleasure overtakes me, my vision blurring and stars exploding behind my eyelids. Chris' thrusts become frantic, his cock pulsing inside me as he fills me with his hot cum.

Chris collapses on top of me, both of us gasping for air as the aftershocks of our orgasms ripple through our bodies. He nuzzles into my neck, his hot breath sending shivers down my spine. “That was incredible, baby,” he murmurs, his voice husky with satisfaction.

“I bet you do that with every girl who comes here to buy from you,” I say, trying to catch my breath. Chris chuckles, a low, intimate sound. “You're the first, actually,” he admits, his fingers trailing down my side. “Let's keep it that way” I said, looking down at him.

Chris smirks, leaning in to capture my lips in a searing kiss. His tongue dances with mine, the taste of sweat and sex filling my mouth. As we break apart, he whispers, “I'll make sure of it.”

Chris slowly pulls out of me, a satisfied smile on his face as he admires the sight of my naked body, covered in the marks of our passionate encounter. He reaches over to his nightstand, grabbing his phone and angling it to capture the perfect shot. “Damn, you're beautiful like this,”

“Chris!” I protest, cover my chest with my arms as he snaps a photo. He chuckles, setting the phone down and hovering over me, his eyes full of desire. He pulls me into a kiss, his hand sliding down to rest on my thigh possessively.

Chris trails his lips down my neck, pressing kisses to the bite marks he left earlier. I arch my back, a moan escaping my lips as he touches me again. “I won't show anyone, I promise,” he murmurs against my skin. “Just a little reminder of this moment.”

Authors Note: Sorry this took so long, literally fell asleep twice typing this but thank you for 100 followers!! Hope you all are having a good day/night <3 (might turn this into a book who knows🤷)

#chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets #smut #cyberl6ve

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thefirsthogokage · 1 year ago

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Fuck AMPTP and the bullshit going on. I'm tired, might not do this well:

(link to article in above picture) From The Article

Receiving positive feedback from Wall Street since the WGA went on strike May 2, Warner Bros Discovery, Apple, Netflix, Amazon, Disney, Paramount and others have become determined to “break the WGA,” as one studio exec blatantly put it.

To do so, the studios and the AMPTP believe that by October most writers will be running out of money after five months on the picket lines and no work.

“The endgame is to allow things to drag on until union members start losing their apartments and losing their houses,” a studio executive told Deadline. Acknowledging the cold-as-ice approach, several other sources reiterated the statement. One insider called it “a cruel but necessary evil.”

The studios and streamers’ next think financially strapped writers would go to WGA leadership and demand they restart talks before what could be a very cold Christmas. In that context, the studios and streamers feel they would be in a position to dictate most of the terms of any possible deal.

[Image IDs: Twitter thread by David Slack posted July 12th, 2023 that reads in totality:

And right on cue, here’s the inevitable Deadline article claiming that the AMPTP and their CEO bosses are ready to wait us out and let us “go broke.”

They’re not. They can’t. This studio propaganda, and here’s why.

In the increasingly mega-merged and hedgefundified Hollywood, these companies live or die on their quarterly earnings reports. It only takes one bad quarter for their stock price to plunge, putting the company and the CEO’s job in jeopardy.

But their stock prices are holding steady, right? Right. For now. Because our industry is a pipeline that starts with writers. The TV and movies they’re releasing now are shows we started making for them 4-12 quarters ago. But what happens when that pipeline runs dry?

What happens is they run out of product. No new shows in streaming to drive and sustain subscribers. No new shows in broadcast and ad-supported to bring in ad revenue.

No shows, no money.

No money, bad earnings report.

Bad earnings report, bye-bye stock price. Bye-bye CEO.

After 70+ days with no writers to create their product for them, the pipeline is running dry.

Their stock price isn’t tanking yet. But if they don’t make a deal with us, it will.

And they know it.

If they make a deal soon, they might be able to weather it. Stretch out releases. Rush some new stuff through.

But the longer they keep us out, the longer that pipeline runs dry, the more unavoidable a catastrophic dip in new high-quality shows becomes.

And they know it.

So yeah, the studios are planting articles in the trades that make it sound like they’re so determined not to pay us the 0.02% of company revenues we’re asking for that they’re willing to hold out forever.

Bullshit.

I’m sure the AMPTP bosses would love to break our union. But they love their jobs more. They love money more. They can’t make that money without us.

And they know it.

Ignore the trades, walk the line, stand together, and win. #WGAStrong

/End ID]

Bonus: John Rogers' Reaction

[Image ID: A tweet from John Rogers that he posted July 12th, 2023 that reads:

I was trying to be cool and professional about this strike, but this AMPTP “we want to drive them to homelessness” shit means I’m going to be dug in at WB Gate 4 like Hiroo Onada. They’re gonna have to send @ellenstutzman with a bullhorn to order me out of the bushes.

The second image is Ellen Stutzman's Twitter bio that says:

Cheif Negotiator for WGA MBA, Assistant Executive Director, Writers Guild of America, West; Cornell ILR and UCLA Anderson alum. Views are my own.

/End ID]

EDIT: Please see the update on this HERE

#david slack #wga strike #wga strong #john rogers

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goldfades · 8 months ago

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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐅��𝐋 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐊𝐄𝐓𝐁𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐑 ─ PB⁵

౨ৎ ─ summary | request -> "Could you write a Paige bueckers x Fem Reader pls! where they’re enemies but everyone is always teasing them (everything’s regular, like she plays for UConn and the reader can be a cheerleader or something idk). It can lead to smut or just a super cute story. Ofc you don’t have to follow the plot!"

─ word count | 1.8k

─ warnings | teasing obviously, kinda mean paige but not really, cheer coach being mean, mention of coach's weight (i had to im sorry), hurt/comfort (my new fav trope omg)

─ taglist | @xocherishxo @iienstein @yazmunson @eupheteral and here's a link to my taglist if anyone would like to join!!

─ ev's notes | my requests are closed rn but if yall wanna send in some concepts, please do i'm willing to indulge (trust me this more of a gift to me than anyone)

"OH THERE SHE GOES AGAIN, THE DRAMA QUEEN!" PAIGE MOCKS as you feel your cheeks get red in embarrassment.

KK and Azzi exchange glance before looking back at the two of you. You let out an irritated scoff as Paige drank her water, her eyebrows raising as she awaited your response. You knew she was trying to get a reaction out of you, to see you stumble over your words and get embarrassed.

"Oh shut up," you landed on the simplest response as you rolled your eyes. Paige laughed as she shook her head in amusement as KK stifled a laugh.

Paige's mocking tone grated on your nerves, sparking irritation that simmered just beneath the surface. You shot her a pointed glare, your jaw clenched in frustration as you fought to keep your composure.

Paige smirked, clearly relishing the opportunity to ruffle your feathers. "Oh, did I hit a nerve, sweetheart?" she taunted, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she took a sip of her water, her gaze never leaving yours.

"I'm not a drama queen," you scoffed. "And I wasn't even talking to you! I was talking to Azzi!"

"Well you should've spoken quieter." Paige quickly retorted as your nose flared in utter irritation. "Oh nice jersey by the way," she added as she glanced down at the jersey you were wearing.

You rolled your eyes and huffed in frustration. You were a cheerleader and your team had decided to add some extra support for the girl's basketball team, so they made all the girls wear someone's jersey.

Now this wouldn't be a problem if they would've chosen any other girl on the team, but no. Somehow you ended up with Paige's and now you're sure, you'll never live it down.

"I'll speak however I want, thank you very much," you shot back, your tone dripping with sarcasm. "And as for the jersey, it's not like I had much of a choice in the matter."

Paige's smirk widened at your response, clearly reveling in your annoyance. "And here I thought cheerleaders were supposed to be graceful."

You scoffed, resisting the urge to roll your eyes at Paige's jab. "Graceful or not, at least I'm not the one tripping over my own ego," you fired back, your tone sharp with irritation.

Paige let out a melodramatic gasp, placing a hand over her heart in mock offense. "Ouch, that stings," she replied, her smirk never faltering. "At least I can back up my ego."

You arched an eyebrow, unimpressed by Paige's attempt to deflect your jab. "Oh, please," you retorted, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "Last time I checked, being able to shoot hoops doesn't make you a saint."

"Oh, but twirling around in the air with little pom-pom's does?" Paige's laughter echoed as you rolled your eyes. "I'd like to see you try and shoot a 3-pointer."

You couldn't help but chuckle at Paige's retort, her laughter infectious despite the underlying tension between you. "Fair enough," you relented, a playful glint in your eyes. "But I'd like to see you try and nail a perfect pyramid."

Paige raised an eyebrow, a challenge dancing in her gaze. "You wanna bet?" she replied, her smirk widening into a grin.

Azzi finally cut in and the both of you snapped out of it, remembering that it wasn't just the two of you at the table. "No, Paige, you're not going to be doing any tricks until the season is over."

You and Paige exchanged a knowing glance, the teasing atmosphere still lingering in the air between you. "Damn it," Paige teased, shooting Azzi a playful pout.

Azzi simply rolled her eyes, unfazed by Paige's antics. "Someone has to keep you in line," she quipped, a hint of amusement in her voice.

KK chuckled from beside Paige. "I actually wanna see Paige try and do that little trick in the air, uh... what is it called?"

Paige shot KK a playful glare, her competitive spirit reignited by his challenge. "You mean a basket toss?"

Your eyebrows furrowed as your lips curved into a smile at Paige's response. "How did you know that?"

"You always talk about how can't nail a basket toss, what can I say? I catch on." Paige shrugged as if it was nothing as you exchanged a playful smirk. "Can't be that hard."

KK started laughing as she shook her head in amusement. "Dude, it is hard."

"It can't be that hard. Maybe for Y/N..." Paige teased as you shot her a glare. "But not for me."

"Okay, let's bet. How much?" You glared at the blonde as she laughed. "50$."

"Only 50$? Please, let's see... 100$." Paige raised an eyebrow, her competitive spirit igniting at the mention of a bet.

You exchanged a glance with KK and Azzi, a mixture of excitement and annoyance bubbling within you. "Deal, let's shake on it."

"Okay, I'll give you 100$ if I can't land it and if I can, you'll give me it." Paige explained as she accepted your handshake with a smile.

"Yeah, that's how betting works, P." You teased as Paige's grip tightened slightly, a playful glint in her eyes as she shot you a glare.

"Shut up."

"You first."

"I asked you first,"

"Technically, not really-"

KK scoffed in amusement, interrupting your banter with a shake of her head. "You two are like an old married couple," she remarked, unable to hide her amusement. "Just kiss already."

"Oh shut up!" You guys both said union, Paige's blush obvious on her cheeks as she groaned.

──

The basketball game unfolded on the court, while you stood on the sidelines, cheering on your team with all your might. The gymnasium echoed with the applause of the crowd, the energy palpable as you did your usual routine.

But tonight, everything just felt like a haze. Every cheer felt forced, every move seemed to lack the usual grace and precision that defined your performances. Maybe it was the lack of sleep or finals that had finally been getting to you, but you were exhausted.

On top of all that, your coach was watching you like a hawk, his expression disapproving. With every misstep, you could feel his disappointment weighing heavily on your shoulders, adding to the burden of exhaustion that already consumed you.

Each word felt like a blow to your confidence, leaving you feeling hurt. You tried to maintain your focus, to push past the exhaustion and perform at your best, but it felt like an uphill battle.

Your coach's voice rang out above the din of the crowd, his words sharp. "Y/N, what was that? You call that a toe touch? I've seen better from a beginner! Jesus Christ."

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you fought to hold them back, to maintain a facade of composure in the face of your coach's harsh criticism. But inside, you were crumbling, your confidence shaken to its core.

Paige's head turned at that, she was sitting on the bench as she watched the exchange between you and the coach. Sensing your hurt, her expression softened, a flicker of concern crossing her features.

And as the final buzzer sounded and the game drew to a close, you excused yourself from the team and practically ran to the bathroom. You sniffled quietly as you let the tears out freely, feeling the weight of the entire night crashing on your shoulders.

After a few minutes, you cleaned up your running make-up and made your way back to the court to get your stuff. As you made your way towards the exit, you heard a familiar voice call out to you from behind. Turning around, you were surprised to see Paige running tp toward you, her expression softened with concern.

"Hey," she said softly, taking a step closer to you. "Are you okay?"

You nodded, forcing a small smile despite the lingering traces of tears on your cheeks. "Yeah, I'm fine," you replied, your voice wavering slightly.

She gestured for you to keep walking and you did, she walked up next to you. "You don't look fine," she remarked, her tone gentle yet firm. "Tell me what happened."

"Nothing," you replied rather defensively as Paige shot you a glare. You knew she was just trying to help so you sighed, trying to relax yourself. "It's not that big of a deal."

Paige narrowed her eyes slightly, clearly not buying your attempt to brush off the situation. "If it's bothering you enough to run off like that, then it's definitely a big deal."

You sighed, realizing that you couldn't hide your feelings from Paige, nor did you really want to. With a slump of your shoulders, you relented. "Fine, it's just... Coach was being really harsh on me tonight,"

Paige's expression softened, her concern evident as she listened to your explanation. "Yeah, I figured. I'm sorry." She paused, feeling slightly awkward as she shifted her weight from one foot to another. "If it makes you feel a better, I don't think he twirl in the air like you. Or just in general, 'cus you know, he's like 200 pounds."

Your lips curved into a smile before you even knew it, rolling your eyes as a laugh escaped your mouth. Her awkwardness melted away as she joined in your laughter as she watched your expression closely.

"No but seriously." Her smile softened as she gazed back at you. "Don't let him determine your worth. I already know you're gonna go pro." Paige paused as she took in her words, shaking her head as you let out another laugh. "Can you go pro in cheer?"

"I don't think so," you replied with a grin, shaking your head. "But hey, who knows? Maybe I'll be the first."

Paige chuckled, her smile widening as she playfully nudged your shoulder. "Well, if anyone can do it, it's you."

You felt her gaze locked on you as your lips began to hurt from grinning. You felt your cheeks warm up as her blue eyes held yours, a warmth spreading through you at the intensity of her gaze. It was as if time had slowed down, the bustling gymnasium fading into the background as you found yourself captivated by the depth of Paige's eyes.

Unable to tear your gaze away from hers, you felt a flutter of something unfamiliar stir within you—a warmth that spread from the depths of your being and settled comfortably in the space between you and Paige.

With a soft smile, Paige broke the spell, her laughter ringing out once more as she playfully nudged your shoulder. "Come on, let's get out of here."

"Where are we going?" You laughed as Paige's hand naturally fell on the small of your back to lead you to the exit.

"To celebrate with the girls." Paige smiled. You didn't need any more convincing, you were down for whatever. "You still hate my cocky ass, or whatever?"

You let out a breathless laugh as you shook your head, she always had to ruin the moment. She opened the door for you as she led you to her car, her hand lingering on the small of your back.

"Of course. You still think I'm a drama queen?"

Paige nodded as she smirked. "Always."

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