#it hammered home the realization that the me in my head

[moondustbaby]

If Anything Happened To You

bsf!Rafe x bsf!Reader

a/n: based on this request! 💌

cw: car accident (minor injuries), blood mention (nothing graphic)

summary: After a terrifying car accident, Rafe throws himself into protecting you—panicked, shaken, and completely undone by the thought of losing you. In the aftermath, he finally admits the truth he’s been trying to ignore: this isn’t just a crush. He’s completely in love with you.

⸻

The whole night had felt weird.

Something off in the air. Something sitting too heavy in your stomach.

You and Rafe were just supposed to drive home from Topper’s place. Simple. Easy. Barely a ten-minute trip. Rafe even offered to drive your car, insisting, “You’ve been drinking. Barely, but still. I’ve got you.”

And you always let him take care of you. That was just how it worked.

You didn’t expect the truck to run the stop sign.

Didn’t expect the screech, the metal, the impact.

Didn’t expect your body to jolt sideways, head slamming into the window, Rafe’s arm flying out across your chest like it could hold you in place.

It was fast. Loud. Terrifying.

And then everything was quiet.

⸻

You’re the one who speaks first.

“…Rafe?”

He jerks toward you so fast his neck cracks. “I’m fine. Are you—” His eyes sweep over you. “You’re bleeding.”

Your hand trembles as you reach for your temple. Your fingers come back red.

“I think I hit my head,” you whisper.

Rafe’s already halfway out the driver’s side, yanking open your door, hands on you immediately.

“You’re okay,” he says, voice shaking. “You’re okay. Just breathe.”

You’re dizzy. The world tilts. But he’s holding you—hands on your face, arm around your back, forehead nearly touching yours.

“I’ve got you,” he says. “I’ve always got you.”

And then, to himself, almost too quiet to hear:

“Fuck. I could’ve lost you.”

⸻

The police come. An ambulance. People talking too loud, flashing lights painting the trees. You sit on the back bumper of the ambulance with a blanket around your shoulders while a paramedic checks your head.

Rafe’s never more than a foot away.

He keeps pacing, scrubbing a hand down his face, hair wild from tugging at it. He’s got a tiny cut on his cheek, but you don’t think he’s even noticed.

“You need to let them look at you,” you say softly.

He shakes his head. “Not until I know you’re okay.”

“I am.”

“You’re not.” His voice cracks. “You could’ve died.”

You blink.

He’s never said it like that before. Never even come close to sounding like this.

“Rafe—”

He finally stops pacing and just looks at you. And it’s awful. His eyes are wide and red-rimmed and so full of something you can’t name that it physically hurts to look at him.

“I can’t—” He swallows hard. “I can’t do this again.”

You frown. “Do what?”

“Watch someone I love get hurt and not be able to stop it.”

Your heart stutters.

“I was two seconds away from losing you,” he says. “And all I could think was—shit, this is it. I’ll never get to tell her. She’ll never know.”

You stare at him, frozen.

“Know what?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper.

He closes the distance in one step.

“That I love you,” he says. “Not like a friend. Not like a crush. I love you.”

The words hit you like a second collision.

You just blink at him, wide-eyed, mouth open but no sound coming out.

Rafe scrubs his hands over his face, pacing again.

“I didn’t mean to say it like that. Not like—shit. I wasn’t gonna tell you like this. I just…” He trails off, breathing hard. “You were bleeding. I couldn’t—God, I couldn’t breathe.”

Your throat tightens.

“I’ve felt this way for a long time,” he says, voice softer now. “I was just scared to mess it up.”

“Rafe—”

“I didn’t want to lose you,” he continues. “But tonight made me realize—I’d rather ruin it all than spend one more second pretending it’s not real.”

You stand slowly. Dizzy, aching, but steady enough.

You walk over to him, heart hammering. He’s standing in the glow of the ambulance lights, looking like he’s waiting to be punched.

Instead, you take his face in your hands.

“You should’ve told me,” you whisper.

“I know.”

“I’ve been in love with you since Christmas… God probably even before that.. but that’s when I realized it…”

His breath catches.

You laugh, watery and broken. “You were wearing that stupid red beanie and grinning like a dumbass and I just… knew.”

He doesn’t say anything. Just looks at you. Like you’re the most important thing on the planet.

And then he leans in.

And you meet him halfway.

The kiss is slow. Careful. A little shaky.

But it’s also the most real thing that’s ever happened to you.

⸻

Later, after the medics check him out and you get cleared to go home, he drives you back to your house in silence.

You’re curled into the passenger seat, wearing his hoodie now. Still a little dazed. Still a little in shock.

He reaches over and grabs your hand, threading your fingers together.

“I didn’t know what to do when I saw the blood,” he says quietly. “I thought I was gonna throw up.”

You squeeze his hand. “But you didn’t.”

He glances at you. “I love you,” he says again, like he’s reminding himself it wasn’t just a panic-fueled blur.

You squeeze his hand tighter. “I know. I love you too.”

His thumb brushes your knuckles. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“Right back at you.”

You both laugh—quiet, breathy, full of relief.

And just like that, the fear starts to fade.

Not all at once.

But enough.

Because he’s here.

And you’re his.

And you both know it now.

a/n: ahh idk how i feel about this one 😭 i feel like i’m a little rusty when it comes to writing situational angst instead of my usual emotional spiral type lmao but i really wanted to do this request justice!! thank you sm for sending it in, and i hope you enjoy this protective, panicked, in-love bsf!rafe 🫶🏻

♥️ lani

Send Me Requests! 💌

Masterlist

𝒯𝒶𝑔𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉:

@psychicnatural @superlegend216 @rafesbabygirlx @raineshua @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @angelofcigs @tiaajosephin

[maskedbyghost]

Hear me out, possessive reader plays a prank, or maybe to see how it would work out and starts acting wayyy less possessive, to the point of being a normal partner..

I NEED SI REACTION

Anon, I love your fucking mind. I had the best time writing this, literally giggling and kicking my feet while imagining Simon spiraling because his crazy girl went "normal mode" on him and he couldn’t handle it for even a second. BASED ON THIS IDEA

You barely looked at him when the waitress called him handsome.

You just smiled to yourself and kept sipping your drink, didn’t glare at her, didn’t grab his hand and lace your fingers through his, didn’t scoot closer in your seat or wrap your arms around him like you used to, and Simon sat there blinking at you like he’d just been slapped across the face.

And then when you walked past a group of girls at the grocery store and one of them giggled and said something about his arms, you didn’t even flinch, didn’t even frown, didn’t even murmur something low and territorial under your breath the way you always did, and Simon actually almost tripped over the cart trying to get a reaction out of you, heart hammering so hard.

You used to get pissed if he so much as looked at another woman too long, used to give him that smug little smirk when you caught someone staring at him, used to lean into him and press your mouth to his ear and mutter "mine" so dark and low that it left him shivering for hours, and now? Now you were just... chill.

Way too chill.

He caught himself thinking insane things like maybe you were losing interest, maybe you were getting ready to leave, maybe you finally realized he wasn’t enough for you, maybe you were pulling away slow and silent to make it easier when you walked out for good, and by the time you got home, Simon’s brain was working overtime, replaying every interaction, every glance, every smile you had given that wasn’t just for him, every time you hadn't touched him when you should have.

You didn’t steal his hoodie when he tossed it on the couch.

You didn’t scroll through his phone and make snarky comments about the girls who liked his photos.

You didn’t pull into his lap when he sat down to watch TV.

You didn’t tell him to shower because he "smelled like other people," which he always secretly loved, even though he rolled his eyes and grumbled about it every time.

You just... existed next to him.

Detached.

Simon sat there on the couch while you scrolled on your phone, completely casual, legs tucked under you, not touching him at all, and he was spiraling so badly he almost convinced himself he could physically see the relationship disintegrating in real time, piece by miserable piece.

He thought about asking if you still loved him.

He thought about proposing on the spot just to lock you down before you could change your mind.

He thought about texting Johnny and asking him if it was normal to feel like your entire world was slipping out from under you because your girlfriend wasn’t being a possessive lunatic for five seconds.

Finally, when you stood up and stretched and said, "I'm gonna head to bed" without even glancing at him, without even saying goodnight or trying to drag him with you, Simon couldn’t take it anymore.

He launched off the couch and followed you, heart pounding like he was about to get left behind at the airport or something, stomach twisted into a knot.

You climbed into bed and flipped onto your side, facing away from him like it was nothing, like you hadn’t spent months curling around him like a vine the second he lay down.

He just stood there at the foot of the bed, breathing way too hard for a normal human being, feeling an honest-to-God panic attack brewing in his chest.

"Love," he said, his voice way shakier than he wanted it to be.

You didn’t even roll over. "Hmm?"

He swallowed hard, hands fisting at his sides. "You don’t want me anymore."

You snorted. Actually snorted. "What are you talking about?"

Simon clenched his jaw so hard it hurt. "You—you’re not even—you didn’t get mad when that girl flirted with me. You didn’t steal my hoodie. You didn’t call me yours even once. You’re acting like we’re—" his voice cracked and he cursed under his breath, "—like we’re normal."

You turned slowly, propping yourself up on your elbow, and the look you gave him was so infuriatingly calm he almost burst into tears on the spot.

"You mean," you said, so evenly it made his eye twitch, "like a normal girlfriend who trusts her boyfriend?"

He stared at you, chest heaving, entire body screaming at him that something was wrong.

"You’re gonna leave me," he said, absolutely sure of it, absolutely certain this was the beginning of the end.

You blinked at him for a second, like you were trying very hard not to laugh in his stupid, panicking face, and then you moved so fast he barely had time to react—you were grabbing him by the front of his shirt, hauling him down onto the bed, straddling his hips, and pinning him there with your thighs as your hands locked around his neck, firm but not tight, just enough to make him shut up and listen.

"Listen to me, you stupid, beautiful man," you said, voice low and furious in that way that made every nerve in his body light up, "you need me just as much as I need you. You belong to me. You hear me? You are fucking mine. I’m not going anywhere; I’m never fucking leaving you. I don't want normal; I want you wrapped around my fucking finger where you belong. Don’t ever doubt that again."

You leaned in closer, your nose brushing his, your hands still gripping his neck just enough to keep him pinned under you, and you added, your voice dropping even lower, smug and wicked, "And maybe I wanted you to lose your fucking mind for a bit. Wanted you to see how much you love it when I’m unhinged about you."

Simon just exhaled like he’d been punched in the stomach and kissed at the same time, his whole body sagging against the bed.

He groaned, almost whining, burying his face against your chest with a muffled, desperate, "Fuckin’ hell, don’t ever do that to me again, you psycho."

But his arms were wrapping around you like steel, holding you so tight, and when you laughed and tugged his hair gently, he actually sighed in relief, like his whole world had finally clicked back into place.

"You’re crazy," he muttered again, not even trying to sound annoyed, his voice almost grateful.

"You love it," you said against his hair, grinning wide enough your cheeks hurt.

"Yeah," he breathed, voice raw and low and real, "yeah, I fuckin’ do. I need you crazy. Need you to ruin me a little. Keep me yours."

You kissed the side of his head, smug and sweet and savage all at once, and Simon just kept breathing you in, letting that awful gnawing terror bleed out of him one slow second at a time until there was nothing left but you, your hands, your voice, your body wrapped around him like armor, pulling him deeper, anchoring him exactly where he belonged.

And he was fine, better than fine actually, and exactly where he needed to be.

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

i can't even explain how much i love this idea...

@daydreamerwoah @kylies-love-letter @ghostslollipop @kittygonap @alfiestreacle @identity2212 @farylfordaryl @rafaelacallinybbay @akkahelenaa @lovelovelovelovelove987654321 @wraith-bravo6

[nadvs]

the power play (part one)

pairing hockeyplayer! rafe cameron x tutor! reader

rating mature 18+

summary rafe is your complete opposite. the only thing you have in common with the hockey player you tutor is that he’s also recently had his heart broken. in a last-ditch effort to make the people who hurt you regret it, you agree to pretend to date.

tags college au. fake dating. grumpy athlete/sunshine tutor. reader is bubbly, talkative, and passionate about literature. very slowburn. he falls first. alcohol use. suggestive moments, but no smut.

power play (noun)

an offensive tactic in a team sport; a deliberate attempt to manipulate someone.

════════

You hoped it wouldn’t feel the way it used to, but as you sit in the stands behind the home bench next to Lyla, it’s all the same.

You’re watching Beck zip across the ice with a painfully familiar sense of longing hammering into your chest. Falling for him always felt inevitable; you just didn’t expect that he wouldn’t be there to catch you.

When you and Lyla became friends in the ninth grade, you quickly grew close to her family, spending more time at their house than your own, tagging along to watch her twin brother’s hockey games.

The more you got to know Beck, the more you fell under his spell, charmed by his warmth, by every part of him that made him the most captivating person you’d ever met.

He stole your heart. Considering the way he treated you, you were sure you’d stolen his, too.

You spent most of last semester helping him with a class, even though you were in the same overwhelming throws of being a college freshman. Every study session in his dorm room drifted by with an undercurrent of certainty that he felt something, too.

It crushed you to realize that it’d all been in your head. A few weeks ago, you’d met him after his final exam, which he said he knew he nailed thanks to you.

You thought he was finally going to make the move that felt like it’d been hanging over you for years. But all he did was pull you into a side-hug and say, “You’re more of a friend to me than my own sister.”

Thinking about it still makes you cringe. You hate how weak you feel ruminating over this, trying to get over someone you were never even with.

It’s a Wednesday night two weeks into the spring semester, and you’re at the first home game you’ve been to in a while. Although you’ve always loved the loud, buzzing atmosphere of a hockey game, you’ve been staying far away from the campus arena and the man who hurt you.

You haven’t spoken to Beck. And he hasn’t reached out. What he did was an indirect rejection, his way of saying, It’s obvious that you like me and I need you to know once and for all that I don’t like you back.

Since then, every time your best friend has asked you to come to games or parties, you’ve told her you’ve been too busy, using your new position in a tutoring program as your excuse.

You prefer a distraction from Beck, and helping other students with a subject you’re passionate about has done the job.

But you can’t blow Lyla off forever, so now, you’re sitting with her in the stands among a small crowd of spectators.

The championship season begins in a month. Every seat will be full then. But you wish more people were around now. You welcome any noise to drown out your thoughts.

Everyone else cheers when Beck smashes the puck against the back of the net, securing the team’s first goal. You find it hard to join the celebration. Even though you’ve always thought of him as kind, you wonder if he could tell how much you liked him. If he consciously led you on.

For years, you’d watched him date other girls, hoping he’d finally realize you were the right one for him all along. You daydreamed far too much about him, imagining that he’d become your first boyfriend and take you on your first date and give you your first kiss.

The alarm blares to signal the end of the second period, pulling you out the haze you’ve fallen into a thousand times since that day in front of his exam room.

“You want to get some snacks?” Lyla asks.

“Sure,” you reply, doing your best impression of a girl with nothing weighing on her.

Once you walk up to the end of one of the arena’s concession stand lines, Lyla recognizes the people standing in front of you, greeting both girls with smiles and hugs.

Through introductions, you learn that Emma and Gabby are friends Lyla made at a party last semester. After some small talk as the line shuffles forward, Lyla points back to the rink.

“The seats next to us are empty if you want to sit with us,” she offers.

Emma and Gabby happily join you as you settle back in your seats soon after. You gaze ahead at the empty rink as they chat, the 3-1 score glaring above the ice in red neon numbers.

“No way the coach isn’t chewing them out right now,” Lyla says with a shake of her head.

“Why do you know on the team again?” Emma asks.

“My brother, Beck,” Lyla says. “You?”

Emma’s mouth twists into a tense smile.

“My ex,” she says, her voice lowering. “I wish he didn’t play, because I actually really love coming to these games.”

“Bad breakup?” you surmise.

“Brutal,” Gabby chimes in. You can tell by her expression that she’d supported her friend through the fallout.

“I just don’t want him to see me here and think it means something,” Emma sighs. “If he thinks that I want to get back together, it’ll be a disaster. We broke up a month ago and he’s still bothering me.”

You hardly know this girl, and you know her ex even less, but your reflex is to feel bad for him. You’re well acquainted with the pain that comes with caring about somebody who doesn’t want you.

“Oh, yeah,” Lyla remembers. “Rafe, right?”

Emma nods.

“Yikes.”

“Yeah,” Emma laughs.

The three girls share a knowing look, something unsaid passing through them.

You don’t know much about Rafe. On the rink, he’s a strong, aggressive defenseman, a sophomore who spends more time in the penalty box than any other player. You’ve seen him at a couple of parties, too, but never exchanged any words.

You don't understand the girls’ tense reactions to the mention of his name.

“What am I missing?” you half-whisper.

“You’d be missing nothing if you actually came to the parties I invite you to,” Lyla teases.

You can count on one hand how many parties you’ve been to since you started college. But it works for you. A party every few weeks is enough.

“I come when I can,” you reply, nudging her playfully. “Fill me in.”

“He’s a trainwreck,” Emma explains to you. “He has a million red flags that I ignored because I thought he was hot. Literally all we ever did was fight.”

“Yeah,” Lyla huffs, raising her brows. She looks at you. “Maybe it’s actually a good thing you don’t come to every party.”

You consider their words. They must have had a penchant for making a scene, shamelessly arguing in front of a crowd.

“I couldn’t take how mean and moody he was anymore. I dumped him and he won’t let it go.” Emma breathes a laugh. “It’s pathetic. He even called me crying the other night.”

Again, a confusing pang of sympathy for him hits you. It has to be your own heartbreak influencing you. You can’t imagine you’d normally feel bad for a guy described as having a million red flags.

“I’m sorry,” you say.

“I’m over it,” Emma says carelessly.

“He’s not,” Gabby murmurs.

The players storm out on the rink again moments later, blades slicing the ice. They’re all so fast and powerful, and knowing that Rafe, the most forceful one of the group, is going through a version of the pain you are is oddly comforting.

A couple of minutes in, he gets thrown into the penalty box for charging an opponent. He skates to the opposite side of the rink, Cameron stitched across the black polyester of his jersey.

He stares at the floor as he waits out his penalty, tense, still. You think that if someone who looks so big and strong can hurt just like you, maybe you’re not as weak as you think.

════════

Rafe swings open the library entrance door with a scowl, irritated as hell that he has to be here. It’s annoying that the athletic department gives this much of a shit about players’ grades. Rafe knows he’s one of the best on the hockey team. He wishes that were enough.

Freshman year was fine, but he barely made it through last semester. He just failed his first assignment in a half-term literature course that was supposed to be an easy A.

Coach wasn’t pleased, saying it could screw up his GPA and deem him ineligible to play. Rafe tried to convince him that he’d do better on the next one, but Coach set him up with a tutor, unwilling to hear him out.

He’s already hardwired into a constant state of anger. Life has always been a storm, and now more than ever, there's no refuge in sight.

He's dealing with a coach who has no hope in him, on top of a painful breakup, on top of a shitty loss last night, on top of the fact that now he’s being forced to talk to a stranger about some boring book.

He can’t catch a break.

He looks at the email on his phone again. Study Room 205. He eventually finds the open door and taps his knuckles on it to get your attention.

You lock eyes with the person you’ve been waiting on for the last ten minutes. You had no idea who was coming up to meet you – just that the athletic department set it up.

But you know him. Or of him, at least.

A second ago, you were thinking about how you’ll have to ask whoever you’re meeting to be on time for future sessions. Now, your mind is consumed by the harsh words you heard about him last night.

“Hi,” you say politely. “Are you here for Lit Arts?”

He nods tersely in confirmation, stepping in. He drops his bag onto one of the empty chairs surrounding the square desk in the middle of the small room. You introduce yourself and when he sits down diagonally opposite to you, he murmurs, “Rafe.”

Discomfort swirls in your stomach. You’d heard something so personal about him at the rink, gazed at him in the penalty box from a distance, feeling like he’s a kindred spirit, and now you have to pretend like none of it happened.

“You’re on the hockey team, right?” you ask.

He realizes he’s seen you before. He can’t figure out where.

“Yeah.”

“I was at the game last night. Tough loss.”

Rafe doesn’t say anything. The clock ticks rhythmically. You clear your throat, figuring it’s best to skip the small talk.

“I took this class last semester. I know exactly how the prof grades, so you’re lucky to have me in your corner.”

Rafe is many things right now. Lucky isn’t one of them.

“Do you have your laptop?” you ask.

He unzips his bag and pulls out his computer.

“You can go to the course portal,” you tell him. He lets out an exhale as he navigates to the webpage. You lean closer to make sure that the class is currently on the book you brought with you.

You pull out your copy of A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, page edges littered with different colored sticky tabs.

“Did you get a chance to start the book?” you ask.

He shakes his head. He’s not hiding that he really doesn’t want to be here. Nonetheless, you’re determined to crack him.

“Do you have a copy of it?”

“No.”

You nod slowly, picking up that he planned to coast through the class, not even bothering to buy and read any of the books.

“Do you like reading?” you ask.

“Nah,” he says with a grimace, as if he’s offended you’d assume that.

“You might like some of the books on the syllabus. This class is a lot of fun.”

“Fun,” he echoes with a stare that makes him look like he wants to bolt out of the door he just came through.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you reply with a smile. “Your idea of fun is skating around and getting slammed into walls. I should be the one judging you.”

He gazes at you like you’re from another planet, blue eyes hard on you. It’s nothing short of amusing.

You pull his laptop closer, hovering the cursor over the ‘My Grades’ tab, and ask, “Do you mind if I check how you did on your last assignment?”

“I bombed it,” he says.

As you gaze at the screen, Rafe clues in on where he’s seen you before. With one of the team’s freshmen.

Varsity athletes who live on campus are lumped together in the same dormitory block, and he’s seen you hanging around with Beck, going in and out of his room.

He wouldn’t consider Beck a friend. He’s a teammate and at best, an acquaintance. The guy’s a kiss-ass to Coach, and does everything by the book, skipping most parties and never drinking.

It makes complete sense that a rule-follower like Beck would date a good girl like you. Who the fuck calls a class fun?

You click to see his failing grade percentage for the first assignment of the semester in bolded red.

“Did you get any feedback on where you went wrong?” you ask. You know he’s going to shake his head before he does it. He doesn’t seem to care at all. “You have a whole semester to get your grade up. Don’t worry.”

“I’m not,” he replies stiffly.

“Well… maybe you should worry a little bit,” you say lightheartedly. “I know your coach is serious about grades.”

Rafe figures you must have heard that from your boyfriend. Maybe Beck took this class, too. It’s popular among busy student athletes because it’s supposed to be an easy way to fulfill a humanities credit.

He could just convince Beck to give him copies of his assignments. He’d have to change stuff around, but at least he’d get out of tutoring.

“Did you help Beck with this class?” he asks.

You’re taken aback by the sudden reminder of him, brows knitting together, a shift in your breezy demeanor.

“You’re his girl, right?” he says, as if it’s obvious.

“No. We’re– we’re friends.” You chew on your bottom lip. Tutoring is supposed to be a distraction from Beck, not the topic of conversation. But your curiosity burns in you and there’s no chance of putting it out. “Did he talk about me or something?”

“No,” he says, a bit too harshly for your liking. “I just figured ‘cause you’re with him all the time.”

“Right,” you say. All the time. Like a lost puppy, no doubt. Embarrassment pricks at your skin. “I helped him with another class. We’re friends.”

Rafe cracks his first smirk since he walked into this stuffy little room. You said friends twice, both times with uncertainty.

“You sure?” he chides.

“What?” you say stiffly. “Yes. I am.”

You crack open the book.

“So, A Portrait is about a man named Stephen who navigates the idea of identity,” you say quickly, trying to shake off your nerves. “We should look at the discussion question.”

You shut the book abruptly, then turn your attention to the laptop.

“You need to write a 1,500-word reflection for each book,” you ramble. “You’ll do better if you find a personal connection to the text. Maybe we start there.”

Rafe watches the nervous way your eyes dart around the screen as you scroll. His joke threw you into a tense, awkward panic that he has no interest in being around.

“You can relax,” he says. “I don’t care if you like him.”

You don’t look at him. You thought you were relaxed.

“Well, I don’t.”

You scroll to the question, one word in particular striking you.

What role does Emma play in Stephen’s growth and how he defines himself?

Of course. As if you needed another reason for this to be even more awkward.

Seeing Rafe’s ex’s name makes what she’d told you about him echo through your head again. Despite his teasing, the sympathy you felt for him comes back tenfold.

You know things about him that you shouldn’t. You feel a responsibility to balance the scales, but the air is too tense, the unfamiliarity too uncomfortable.

“Did you take a look at the question?” you ask.

He shakes his head, still slouched back. At this point, his apathy is starting to get to you.

“Listen, I can tell you don’t want to be here, but could you please try to meet me in the middle?” you say.

Rafe’s lips pull into a firm line, but he relents and leans closer to look at the screen. His body goes cold when he sees her name. He’d rather not be reminded of the girl who broke his heart right now.

“Emma is Stephen’s love interest,” you begin, trying to act like you don’t know a thing about his past relationship. “He sees her as something she’s not.”

You leaf through the book, finding a note you’d written in the margin.

“She represents idealization,” you read. You look up at him again. “Stephen sees by the end that she’s just a normal person, not this perfect girl he thought she was for so many years.”

You open a blank document on his laptop.

“We can write up some notes to start us off,” you say. “This prof grades high when you relate to the text. He likes the sentimental stuff, so until you read the book, that’s what we’ll have to work on.”

You chew on your lip again, unsure if you should bring up what you heard in the stands. It feels unethical either way.

“It doesn’t have to be a person,” you say. “It could be a place or an experience. Have you ever thought something was great and then realized it wasn’t?”

Rafe’s stomach is in a knot. The thought of being tutored and having his hand held through a class was bad enough. Now he has to get into his feelings with you?

“I don’t know,” he says.

You look at the blinking cursor, your head cocked in thought.

“Maybe relating it to a person would be easier, then?” you ask.

Nothing can make this easier. Rafe rakes his hair back, gazing down at your hands stalled over his keyboard.

“I get that this is awkward,” you say. “But it doesn’t have to be anything super personal. You could even make something up if you want.”

He only purses his lips, eyes fixed on your hands, as if he hopes you’ll give in and just do his work for him.

You take a deep breath and interlace your fingers on the desk. You figure that if you’re a little vulnerable, he might be, too.

He’s unknowingly feeling the same pain you are and saying the truth out loud to someone who gets it might even be a relief. There’s a risk of it getting back to Beck, but something tells you Rafe’s not much of a gossiper anyway.

“To be honest, yes, I like Beck. I thought he felt the same, but he doesn’t. Between you and me, sometimes I think he took me for granted and led me on. I idealized a friendship and it ended up hurting me. If this were my assignment, I’d relate to the book with that.”

Rafe is thrown off by your sudden honesty. It’s actually refreshing, considering all the bullshit he’s been dealing with lately.

He looks at you wordlessly.

“It’s just an example,” you say with a soft chuckle. “I did well in this class because I found pieces of myself in every book. All you need to do is read the material, find something you can relate to, write a decent report, and you’ll get a good grade. Well, that and prepare for the midterm and the final.”

“This class was supposed to be easy,” he finally says under his breath.

“Can you let me know when you’re going to be done complaining?” you ask playfully, looking up at the clock. “It’s been five minutes and you’re still going.”

Rafe huffs an almost-laugh. He adjusts his posture again, pulling at the collar of his hoodie.

“You really don’t have to be specific,” you reassure him. You tap your fingers over the keyboard again, just light enough to not press any buttons. “If you can relate the character of Emma to someone, you don’t have to say their name.”

Your eyes stay glued to the screen, your shoulders stiff as you wait. You’re acting weird again. The way you said Emma’s name looked like it pained you.

And it dawns on him.

“Should’ve known she’d talk shit,” he realizes. “What’d she tell you?”

“What?” you say, meeting his gaze.

“What did Emma say about me?” Rafe drawls, his deep voice reverberating through you.

Your lips part, but words refuse to form. For a guy that doesn’t like to read, he’s very good at doing it to you.

Rafe leans forward and rests his elbows on the desk. You can now see what makes him so intimidating on the ice. Every edge of his face is sharp now, apathy replaced with intensity.

“Nothing,” you reply. “It’s not my business.”

How did he not clue in before? If you run in the hockey team’s social circle, of course you heard about their breakup.

Emma never cared to keep things private. And you’re so willing to share your own personal stuff because you know more about him than you’re letting on. Because you pity him.

“Come on,” he scoffs, frustrated.

“I met her at the rink last night. She just mentioned you used to date.”

He shrugs impatiently, a silent request that you keep talking. You sigh.

“She said she likes coming to games, but it’s hard to because her ex is on the team.” You grimace. There’s no way you’d actually tell him all of it, all of the insults she muttered. “It’s not worth repeating, but… basically, she told me she broke things off and you won’t move on.”

Rafe nods, lips twisting. The way she’s been ignoring his texts and his calls to try to fix things stung enough. Talking to strangers to embarrass him hurts on an entirely different level.

He didn’t know Emma could be this cruel. This is mortifying. He’s done trying to make things work with her. No matter how hard the loneliness is hitting him.

You slide the book across the desk towards him, desperate to move past the tension.

“You can start reading,” you say. “And you don’t have to buy any of the books. I’ll just lend you mine. I’ll get some notes down for you to work from and you can do the personal connection part on your own.”

You start to type and immediately wonder if he’ll drop the class. You’ve never had that happen with someone you tutored before, but you wouldn’t blame him.

It must feel crappy to hear from a girl you don’t even know that your ex is saying bad things about you. A girl that you have to see every Thursday afternoon for the next three months.

Rafe cracks open the book in the middle to fan through the pages, a weight sitting on his chest. The pages are worn, words underlined, notes scribbled in the margins.

“You put this through the washing machine or something?” he murmurs.

“I’ve read it a few times,” you say simply. You keep typing.

Emma said he’d called her crying. It’s hard to imagine the man sitting next to you crying. It’s weird knowing something about someone that they wouldn't want you to know.

Rafe’s already bored with the first sentence. It’s long and confusing and completely uninteresting. His eyes drift up, absorbing the way your face softly creases in concentration as you type.

Now that you’re not talking at a thousand words a second, he can actually take you in.

You’re the type of girl he’d approach at a party. There’s no doubt about that. But once you’d start yapping about reading like you just did, about finding pieces of yourself in a book, he’d find a way out of the conversation.

Playing hockey at the college level is demanding; he likes the other things in his life to be fun and easy. Keeping up with a girl like you and pretending he’s interested in whatever you’re rambling about would be neither.

As he studies you, he doesn’t get why Beck friendzoned you. You’re pretty. And you’re the same type of person as Beck: straight-edge and so cheerful it’s annoying.

Rafe is typically one to outright say what he’s thinking, but he has the restraint to keep the idea he just had to himself. He needs to sleep on it. He’s done some crazy shit since Emma broke his heart and he’d rather not add to the tally.

You notice him looking at you in your peripheral vision.

“You’re not thinking of dropping the class, are you?” you ask.

“No,” he says. His eyes stay on you for another beat, then find the words on the page again.

════════

You thought Rafe came to your first session in a bad mood. Compared to how you feel right now, he was peachy.

Lyla called you on your way to the library and mentioned in passing that her brother asked about you last night. She said Beck seemed like he missed you, all sympathetic when he asked, is she doing okay?

She’s oblivious to the real reason he brought it up. And it’s irritating. Because he doesn’t even ask you himself. Because he’s right. He knows that his passive rejection left a wound.

“You’re on time,” you say in surprise when Rafe saunters into the study room.

“You talk a lot,” he mumbles. “I’m not interested in a lecture after you told me not to be late.”

Despite your bad mood, you crack an amused smile. You’d ended last week’s session telling him that tardiness was not only disrespectful to you, but to his own academic success. He rolled his eyes, but he clearly listened.

Rafe settles in the same chair as last time, holding your copy of the book he was supposed to read.

“Did you read it?”

“Mostly.”

“What’d you think?” you say with hope.

“Boring.”

“Fair,” you say. You gesture for his laptop. “Let’s see how far you got on the report.”

Your brows drop in disappointment when you see how much he added to the file. It’s a bunch of pasted summaries and disorganized thoughts, taking up only half the page.

You eventually reach the end of your hour-long session and have him read over the assignment one last time before submitting it. You check the syllabus to confirm what the next book is, then shut his computer.

“Try to have more for us to work with next time,” you tell him. “And you should have the next book totally read by then, too, okay?”

You hand him your copy of Pride and Prejudice and push your seat back, ignoring his frustrated sigh.

“You talk to Beck lately?” he asks after a beat.

“What?” you say, face screwing up. You’re reminded all over again of what Lyla said. “No. Why?”

“You’re still pissed at him,” he says. He’s confident, coming to the conclusion himself instead of waiting for you to admit it.

“Why are you talking about this? We had a perfectly nice hour together,” you try to joke.

Rafe finally gives a voice to what’s been swirling in his mind since last week. He’s used to being mad, to feeling spiteful, but the way his ex broke his heart has never made him want revenge more. He wants to hurt her as badly as she hurt him. He wants to make her regret leaving him.

“We should get back at them,” he says.

“I’m sorry?” you say, your chin dipping as you stare at him.

“Hear me out,” he tells you. “We’re going to keep seeing Beck and Emma around, right? We could make it look like we’re better off without them. Make them jealous.”

You squint, waiting for the details. Rafe draws in a sharp inhale.

“She said I’m not over her, right? And you said he took you for granted. If they think we moved on, I bet at least one of ‘em will realize they fucked up.”

You consider it. Admittedly, making Beck think you’re perfectly fine – no, thriving – after his rejection is enticing.

“Okay, how do we get back at them exactly?” you ask.

Rafe scratches the back of his neck. It’s the first time he seems kind of nervous to you.

“We pretend we’re together,” he says.

“You and…” You look over your shoulder, because he must be talking to somebody else who snuck into the room at some point. “You and me? Together together?”

“I know. It wouldn’t ever happen.”

You can’t even be offended. He’s right. He’s a skilled hockey player and undeniably good-looking, but that’s where the compliments end.

Two afternoons of working together and making small talk have shown you that you have nothing in common. And frankly, while you do laugh off his bad attitude, it gets on your nerves.

A relationship would never work, let alone even begin.

“But they don’t know that,” he continues. “All they’ll see is that someone they lost is happy without them.”

Your mind starts racing. The years of pining over Beck, the pain of his rejection, the frustration over him asking his sister how you’re holding up. They’ve all left cracks in your heart.

The more Rafe thinks about rubbing his happiness into Emma’s face, even if it’s bullshit, the more he hopes you’ll be on board. But you’re not saying a word.

“If you’re not in, fine,” he sighs, pushing his chair back to start to leave. He should have figured you’d be too uptight to do it. “I’m just saying I bet you wouldn’t hate making Beck sweat.”

He stands up, but you hear yourself say, “Wait.”

Then you hold out your hand.

Rafe breathes an amused chuckle, flashing the first sincere smile you’ve seen on his face, when he realizes what you’re doing.

Your hand slips into his, touching for the first time to seal the deal and shake on it.

“This is insane,” you say. “Count me in.”

next >

if you want notifications on when i post my fics, follow @xorafe-library and turn on notifications 💘 divider credit.

[hoonstqr]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ۫ 𓈒 PUNISH ME, OFFICER ♩

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ────𝗐𝖾 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗒 𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗌𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌

警告 : smut, sensory deprivation, porn, bondage, p in v, unprotected sex, dildo fucking, edging, over stimulation, blowjob, organism denial, degradation 2893 for my pretty waifu @kikidoul. actually wrote this for jeno a while back but never posted so now its revamped + edited ><

ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ( ៸៸ ´ `) 𝑜 ──── REBLOG FOR A KiSS !

"babe, i'm home," sunghoon called out as he kicked off his boots, the heavy thud echoing through the quiet apartment. he hung his keys by the door, the metal jingling against the wooden board, and tossed his uniform jacket onto the nearby chair. he had come home earlier than expected, hoping to surprise you with a romantic dinner before his shift started again.

no response? weird, you must be in the bathroom.

as sunghoon approached the bedroom, the faint sound of running water grew louder. he could hear the steady rhythm of the shower echoing through the hallway. he sat on the bed as his gaze fell upon your laptop, lying open on the bed. the screen was alight with a video that made his eyes widen in shock and his heart quicken in a mix of arousal and disbelief. a girl, handcuffed to the bed, was being thoroughly ravished by a man dressed in police gear.

his mind raced as he watched the scene unfold. this was your dirty little secret? seems like his pretty bimbo wife is not so innocent after all.

suddenly, the sound of the shower turning off snapped him out of his trance. your bare feet pattered against the cold tiles, water dripping onto the floor. you emerged from the steamy bathroom, your skin glowing and your hair plastered to your body under a thin white towel. your eyes widened when you saw sunghoon sitting on the bed, his gaze glued to the laptop screen. "oh, sunghoon, you're home already?" you squeaked.

mortification crawled up your spine as you realized what he must be watching. your cheeks flushed a deep crimson, and your breath hitched in your throat. the video was still playing, the woman's moans filling the room like an awkward soundtrack to your humiliation. you fumbled with the towel, trying to cover yourself more, as sunghoon's eyes flickered from the screen to your flustered face and back.

"i, uh, i can explain," you began, your voice trembling slightly. but the words got caught in your mouth like a mouthful of cotton. the sight of his strong, authoritative figure sitting there, his eyes dark with a mix of emotions, made your knees wobble.

sunghoon's gaze didn't waver from the screen, the man's handcuffs glinting under the artificial light. "you've been watching some… interesting content." he replied dryly as if you hadn't been caught watching porn about his damned profession.

you stumbled over your words, trying to come up with a coherent explanation, but your mind was a jumble of thoughts and emotions. the air in the room grew thick with tension as the video played on, the woman's cries growing louder with each passing second. "i never knew you had a thing for… this," he said, gesturing towards the laptop, his voice a cocktail of surprise and accusation.

sunghoon's eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched. you could see the gears turning in his head as he processed the scene before him. your heart hammered in your chest as he closed the laptop with a firm snap, the sound reverberating through the room like a gunshot. the sudden silence was deafening, only the dull throb of your pulse and the faint sound of your breath filled the space between you.

he stood up, inching closer to you, his movements deliberate and controlled. you took a shaky step backward, the coldness of the wall against your wet skin sending a shiver down your spine. your eyes remained glued to his, searching for any hint of what was coming next.

sunghoon leaned in, his warm breath ghosting against your neck. "who could've guessed my sweet innocent wife had such wild fantasies," he murmured, a hint of a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. your body responded with a shiver of anticipation. was he mad? was he… intrigued?

before you could say another word, his strong arms wrapped around your waist, lifting you easily and pushing you back onto the bed. the mattress dipped under your weight, the towel slipping away to reveal your naked form. you felt exposed and vulnerable, but also… excited?

his hand reached for the nightstand drawer, and you watched with bated breath as he pulled out a set of handcuffs, the metal cold and unyielding. your eyes went wide as he held them up, the glint of them catching the light from the bedside lamp. "i guess it's time to play," he says huskily, sending a thrill through your core.

before you could even process his intentions, sunghoon had grabbed your wrist and secured the first handcuff around it, the cold metal biting into your skin. your pulse raced as he leaned over you, his gaze never leaving yours as he reached for the other wrist, cuffing it to the opposite side of the bedframe.

his eyes searched yours for any sign of protest, but all he found was a blend of surprise and desire. "you're okay with this?" he asked, his voice thick with lust. you nodded frantically, unable to form words. he smirked, knowing full well you'd never be able to hide your desires from him again.

sunghoon then stood up, the mattress springing back to life with his release. his footsteps were heavy as he approached the closet, the wood of the floor creaking under his weight. the door swung open with a low groan, revealing your most intimate secrets. his eyes scanned the contents, resting on the monster dildo you had hidden at the back. a smug smile spread across his face as he reached for the shelf, his hand wrapping around the thick base.

how did he even know about it?!

his eyes gleamed with a newfound hunger as he approached the bed. your heart thumped against your ribcage, the anticipation building to an almost unbearable crescendo. you watched as he unbuckled his belt, the leather whispering against the fabric of his pants. his zipper was the next to give way, revealing the bulge that had formed in his boxers.

sunghoon grabbed the dildo, stroking it almost lovingly as he climbed onto the bed. he positioned himself between your legs, his eyes never leaving yours. you felt the mattress shift and sink beneath his weight as he leaned over you, the dildo's tip brushing against your sensitive folds. you gasped, the sensation sending a bolt of electricity through your body.

his hand moved the toy in slow, teasing circles around your clit. "h-hoonie, please," you whimpered, your body arching off the bed, begging for more. the handcuffs dug into your skin as you struggled to get closer to the sweet torment he was inflicting upon you.

sunghoon chuckled low in his throat, a dark, sexy sound that sent shivers down your spine. "patience, baby," he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. "i want to hear you beg."

his grip on the dildo tightened, and he began to apply more pressure. you could feel yourself getting wetter, your body responding to his touch despite the handcuffs that kept you helpless. he dragged the toy along the length of your slit, teasing you mercilessly. your hips bucked, trying to get more friction, but the cold metal of the handcuffs kept you in place, taunting you with their unforgiving embrace.

sunghoon watched your reactions with a smirk, his eyes gleaming with the power he now held over you. "nngh, please," you whimpered, the word barely audible. he leaned down and whispered, "i want to hear you scream." with that, he pushed the dildo inside you, the intrusion making you gasp.

you felt yourself stretch around the thickness, your body clenching and unclenching, trying to adjust to the unyielding object. sunghoon's movements were deliberate and slow, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in, letting you feel every inch of the toy. your eyes squeezed shut, your teeth gritted, as he edged you closer to the precipice of pleasure. the handcuffs bit into your wrists as you tried to grab onto the bed, seeking any purchase to control the sensations overwhelming you.

his hand moved in a steady rhythm, the sound of the dildo's base slapping against your skin echoing in the room. you could feel your orgasm building, a coil of tension tightening in your belly. your breaths grew shorter, your chest rising and falling rapidly. "h-hoon," you begged, your voice a desperate whine. "i'm so close."

with each thrust, the dildo hit that sweet spot inside you, the pressure mounting until you thought you might shatter. your eyes watered, not from pain, but from the intensity of the pleasure that was building, threatening to consume you whole. "please, hoon, i'm gonna…" your voice trailed off into a high-pitched whine as he continued to drive the toy into you.

then, just as you felt the beginnings of your climax, he abruptly pulled the dildo out, leaving you gasping and quivering. your eyes snapped open to meet his, the betrayal and need reflected in them. "please," you choked out, your voice thick with desperation. "please, let me cum."

his smirk grew wicked as he reached for his own zipper, pulling it down slowly. his erection sprang free, thick and heavy, making your mouth water and your pussy ache for his touch. "not yet," he whispered, his eyes never leaving yours. "not until i say so."

he grabbed the handcuffs attached to the bedframe and rattled them playfully. the sound sent a jolt of excitement through your body, mixing with the frustration of being so close to release and yet so far.

sunghoon climbed off the bed and removed his clothes, revealing his toned chest and abs, the muscles rippling as he moved. his cock stood erect, a testament to his arousal from watching you squirm under his control. you bit your bottom lip, unable to take your eyes off him as he sits infront of you, his eyes never leaving yours.

he flicks the dildo back on and the gentle hum of the vibration fills the room. you feel the heat rising in your cheeks as he takes a moment to admire the toy glistening with your arousal. "so wet for me, aren't you?" he says, his voice gruff with need. "so desperate to get fucked like a slut."

sunghoon strokes his cock, his eyes never leaving yours as he watches you squirm. the sight of his strong hand wrapped around his shaft, moving in rhythm with the dildo inside you, sends waves of heat through your body. you bite your lip to stifle a moan, the frustration of being so close to climax yet denied it by his teasing driving you wild.

his grip tightens, his strokes becoming more erratic as he watches the dildo move in and out of you, your juices coating it with every thrust. you can see the veins in his neck bulging, his pupils dilated with lust. the handcuffs dig into your skin as you try to hold onto the bed, your body begging for release.

his eyes never leave yours as he jerks his cock, the precum glistening at the tip. "you like being my little fuck toy, don't you?" he asks, his voice a gravelly whisper. you nod, unable to form words as the pleasure builds within you.

just as you feel the first spasm of your orgasm, the telltale sign of release, sunghoon reaches over and flicks off the dildo. the sudden absence of the vibration leaves you panting, your body strung tight like a bow ready to snap. "n-no, hoon, please," you whine, your voice desperate.

his eyes dance with mischief as he watches your frustration, his hand still stroking his own cock, now slick with pre-cum. "not yet," he repeats, his voice a dark promise. your hips buck involuntarily, trying to find any semblance of the pleasure that was just snatched away from you. the handcuffs rattle against the bedframe, a taunting reminder of your helplessness.

sunghoon then leans in, placing the tip of his cock against your parted lips. the heat of him, the smell of him, sends a thrill through you. your eyes widen, but you don't dare move. his hand reaches behind your head, threading through your damp hair, and he pulls you closer, guiding his length into your mouth. you gag slightly as he pushes deeper, filling your mouth with his hardness.

his grip tightens, the handcuffs biting into your wrists as you struggle to accommodate his size. your eyes water and your jaw aches, but you don't dare pull away. you know he's watching you, watching the way your mouth stretches around his cock, watching the way you fight to take him all in. the taste of him is intoxicating, the salty tang of his precum coating your tongue as he starts to fuck your mouth with slow, deliberate strokes.

his hips rock back and forth, his cock sliding in and out of your lips. you can feel the head hit the back of your throat with each thrust, the sensation making your eyes water even more. your hands are bound and useless, leaving you completely at his mercy. you moan around his shaft, the vibrations sending a new wave of sensation through your already overwhelmed body.

sunghoon groans, his eyes rolling back in his head as he fucks your mouth with increasing urgency. you can feel his cock swelling, the muscles in his thighs tensing. his grip on your hair tightens as he starts to thrust harder, faster, his hips snapping against your face.

he pulls out, his cum spurting across your face and chest. it's hot and sticky, painting your skin in ropes of white. you watch, wide-eyed and panting, as he continues to come, his cock pulsing with each spurt. your tits were coated in sticky white ropes.

sunghoon then sits back, panting heavily, his cock still twitching. his eyes never leave yours as he reaches out, wiping the remaining cum from your face with his thumb, and pushes it into your mouth. "suck it clean, slut."

you obey, your tongue swirling around his digit, tasting the salty bitterness of his release. the humiliation only serving to heighten your arousal.

sunghoon's eyes flare with desire as he watches you clean him up. he reaches down to remove the handcuffs, releasing you from your restraints. your arms fall limply to the side, the skin around your wrists red and slightly bruised. you look up at him, your eyes glazed with need.

his cock is still semi-hard, and he uses the cum that's on his hand to lubricate himself, spreading it down his shaft. sunghoon grabs your ankles and pulls your legs apart, your pussy glistening and begging for his attention. you're trembling with need, your body aching for his touch. he climbs between your legs, his eyes dark with desire.

without another word, he plunges into you, his cock filling you up in one swift motion. you scream, the mix of pain and pleasure making your toes curl. your pussy stretches around his girth, your walls tightening around him like a vice.

sunghoon's eyes never leave yours as he starts to move, his hips pistoning into you. every stroke hits that perfect spot, the one the dildo had been teasing all along. your breath comes in ragged gasps as he fucks you.

his hands are everywhere, grabbing at your hips, your breasts, your throat. his teeth bite into the flesh of your shoulder, sending sparks of pleasure through your body. you arch up to meet him, your nails digging into his back, leaving trails of red against his pale skin.

his strokes are deep and punishing, his cock claiming you in a way that you never knew was possible. you're so wet that you can hear the wet smack of his skin against yours, the sound echoing in your ears like a dirty mantra. your orgasm is a tight coil in your belly, winding tighter and tighter with every thrust.

sunghoon's movements become more erratic, his breaths coming in harsh pants. you can feel his muscles tense, his body poised on the edge of his own release. you're so close, so close…

and then, it happens.

you squirt, your body letting go of the pent-up pleasure that had been building since the moment he first touched you with the dildo.your pussy spasms around his cock, the muscles clenching and releasing as wave after wave of ecstasy rolls over you.

the sensation is so intense that you scream his name, your voice hoarse from the restrained moans and pleas of the past few minutes. sunghoon's eyes widen in surprise and delight, his pace never faltering as he continues to pound into you. the warmth of your release coats his cock, making the sensation of him moving inside you even more exquisite.

his own climax follows shortly after, a growl ripping from his throat as he empties himself into you. the feeling of his hot seed filling you sends another shockwave through your body, making you come again.

sunghoon collapses onto the bed, his weight pressing you into the mattress. your legs are still wrapped around his waist, his cock still buried deep inside you.

you have never been more glad to have left your laptop open before going to shower…

── : @rikkesttz @nics-fxy @woniesbae

[applecaviar]

The first time he heard you 🫲🏻 yourself...part 2

Finally done with this one!!

TW: SMUT

and also Caleb calls us meimei a couple of times

Enjoy!!!

"Did you call for me pipsqueak? Did you moan my name because you needed me?"

Your heart races as you tug your hands away from your sensitive flesh, a rush of embarrassment and shock coursing through you.

You can't help but let your gaze rake over Caleb's form, tall and imposing. His eyes are dark, almost black in the dim light of the room, and you feel pinned in place by his intense stare. Your heart hammers wildly in your chest as you sit up, the sheets rustling loudly in the sudden silence.

"Caleb," you breathe out, voice trembling slightly as you try to gather your thoughts. "I... I didn't know you were awake. I thought..." You swallow hard, realizing there's no way to explain what he just saw. What you were doing.

Embarrassment colors your cheeks a deep, telling red as you quickly tug his shirt down, trying to cover more of your bare legs. Your hair is messy around your face, a clear indication of your recent activities. You feel the lingering heat between your thighs, the dampness that coats them, and pray that Caleb can't somehow sense it, that he can't guess at the filthy thoughts that were running through your head just moments before.

You feel your heart leap into your throat as he approaches you, dominating the space around the bed. His eyes, dark and intense, never leave yours as he closes the distance between you. You can't look away, trapped by the force of his gaze.

His large hand reaches out, fingers brushing against the fabric of the shirt you're wearing. The shirt that was once his. The one you "borrowed" without asking, loving the way it smells like him. Like home.

"Pipsqueak," he murmurs, his voice is low and rough, sending shivers down your spine. "You moaned my name." It's not a question, but a statement. A realization. His fingers curl into the fabric of the shirt, fisting it slightly.

"And I heard you," he continues,he is so close you can feel the heat radiating off his body. His other hand comes up, cupping your chin, tilting your face up to look at him. "I heard you moan my name, princess."

His thumb brushes over your lower lip, a gesture that's almost tender. Almost loving. But there's something else beneath it. Tension. Hunger.

"No wonder I couldn't find this shirt," he says, giving the fabric a slight tug. "It was here all along. With you." His eyes bore into yours, searching. Seeing. Knowing. "Were you thinking of me, pipsqueak? Is that why you were touching yourself? Imagining it was my hands on you instead of your own?" His voice drops to a whisper. "Making you come undone?"

You try to speak, to form words, but your throat feels tight, your mouth dry. Caleb's proximity, his eyes looking at you, has rendered you speechless. Your heart pounds wildly in your chest, echoing loudly in your ears as you stare up at him, eyes wide. He's so close now. Too close. Close enough that you can feel his breath on your face, smell the faint scent of his cologne mixed with something uniquely him. It's intoxicating. Overwhelming. Your head spins slightly as you try to process his words, the implication behind them.

His hand on your chin, his fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt that you're wearing, it's all too much. Too intense. Too...everything. Your body feels hot, your skin tingling where he touches you, where he's not touching you. You're aware of every inch of you.

You swallow hard, trying to find your voice. Trying to deny his accusation. But the words won't come out. Because deep down, he's right. In your mind, it was him. His hands, his touch, his body. You were imagining it was him bringing you to the brink of ecstasy, his name on your lips.

Your tongue darts out, wetting your dry lips, and you see his eyes follow the movement. Your breath hitches, chest rising and falling rapidly as you struggle to maintain some control. But it's a losing battle. You're losing yourself in his dark eyes, drowning in the intensity of the moment. All you can manage is a breathless whisper, a single word that hangs heavy in the air between you. "Caleb..." It's a plea. A question. A prayer. You don't know what you're asking for. But you know you need it. Need him.

Caleb leans in even closer, his nose brushing against your hair, inhaling deeply. He breathes in your scent, his lips curling into a smile against your temple. "You smell like my shirt. Like you've been wearing it all day, maybe hoping I wouldn't notice." His hand slides from your chin, fingers trailing down the side of your neck. Your pulse jumps beneath his touch and he feels it, of course he does. Nothing escapes Caleb's notice.

"What were you thinking about?" he murmurs, his voice low against your ear "When you had your fingers buried deep inside your little cunt." His other hand moves from the shirt, his palm pressing flat against your stomach, fingers splaying possessively over your belly. "Tell me what had you so worked up, princess. What dirty thoughts were running through this pretty little head of yours?"

His lips press against your neck, just below your ear, and he nips lightly at the sensitive skin. Not hard enough to break the skin, but enough to make your body jolt with pleasure and pain. You can't hold back the moan that escapes your lips as his teeth graze your neck, your body arching into his touch involuntarily. "Caleb," you whimper, his name falling from your lips like a prayer. But before the sound can fully register, he's hushing you, his finger pressing against your lips.

"Shh, keep your voice down," he warns, his own voice a low rasp. "Grandma's sleeping right next door. Wouldn't want to wake her." Despite his words, there's a glint of dark amusement in his eyes, as if the idea of being caught together like this appeals to some primal part of him. His hand on your belly moves to your inner thigh. He can feel the heat radiating off your skin, growing more intense with each inch he covers. As his fingers reach the apex of your thighs, he pauses, brows furrowing as he encounters an unusual texture. He glances down, noticing the damp spot that has formed on the sheets and shirt beneath you, a clear indication of your arousal. His eyes widen slightly, understanding dawning on face. He looks back up at you. "Pipsqueak," he murmurs "You're not wearing anything under my shirt, are you?" His fingers press lightly against the drenched fabric of the shirt.

"You're fucking drenched," he says, "Were you this wet just from thinking about me? From touching yourself to the thought of being with me? Fuck," he groans, his own arousal growing, straining against the confines of his pajamas. "If this is what you're like from just touching yourself, I can only imagine how soaked you'd be if it was really my cock buried inside of you"

You squirm beneath his touch, feeling the heat of his hand so close to your aching pussy. Deep down, you know this is wrong. Dangerous. "Caleb, we... we shouldn't be doing this," you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper. "It's not right, not with Grandma right next door..." Your words trail off, lacking conviction even to your own ears. You want to push his hand away, to put an end to his sinful, tempting touch. But your body remains still, frozen in place, trapped between the need for him and the knowledge that this is a line that can never be crossed.

Caleb ignores your protest, too consumed by your body's response, the damp patch on the shirt growing with each passing second. His thumb finds your nipple, touching the stiff peak through the thin fabric of his shirt. He circles it slowly, teasingly, feeling it harden even more under his touch.

"Shouldn't be doing this?" he whispers, a smirk playing on his lips as he watches your face, taking in every expression, every hitch in your breath. "But your body's telling a different story, pipsqueak."

His hand leaves the heat between your legs, trailing up, slipping underneath the shirt to cup the soft weight of your other breast. He squeezes gently, kneading the supple flesh.

"Look at how hard they are for me," he whispers, his voice a low rumble against your ear. "Look at how much your body wants to be touched by me. Tell me to stop then," he challenges, his eyes dark and intense. "Tell me you don't want this. That you don't want me."

As Caleb pinches the nipple, he is touching under your shirt, between his thumb and forefinger, a jolt of pleasure shoots straight through your core. Your legs part instinctively, knees falling open to expose your dripping sex to the cool air of the room. At the same time, your back arches, pressing your chest further into his touch, silently begging for more. He takes advantage of your body's display, bending his head to capture the stiff peak of your nipple between his teeth. Even through the thin, damp fabric of his shirt, you can feel the heat of his mouth, the way his tongue swirls around the sensitive bud. He suckles hard, the wet patch on the shirt growing as your nipple hardens even further from the intense stimulation. "Fuck, the way you respond to me," Caleb groans around your nipple, his words muffled but still clear. "Like your body was made for my touch. Made to be claimed by me." Your fingers tangle in Caleb's hair, tugging him closer as he lazes his tongue over the sensitive peak of your nipple. A needy whimper escapes your lips, your chest heaving with each ragged breath. Your thighs tremble, legs falling open even wider, inviting, offering yourself up to him.

Caleb's hand touching you under your shirt moves down and hovers, once again, dangerously close to your dripping sex. He teases you, not quite touching, his touch maddeningly close but not close enough.

"Tell me what you need, pipsqueak," he murmurs, his breath hot against your nipple, his words vibrating through your core. "Tell me to touch this pretty little pussy. Beg me to make you come all over my fingers."

"Caleb...please"

He bites your nipple softly, your fingers tighten in his hair, your body trembling with need beneath him. "Please what?" he murmurs, his voice a low, teasing rumble. "I need you to say it. To tell me exactly what you want." Your hips twitch, trying to close the minimal distance, to grind your aching cunt against his hand, but Caleb pulls back slightly, denying you the contact you crave.

"Tell me to touch this desperate, dripping cunt," he demands, his tone leaving no room for misunderstanding. "Tell me how badly you need my fingers inside you, filling you, fucking you until you scream my name."

His thumb brushes maddeningly close to your clit, making your body jerk and your breath hitch.

."Please, Caleb, please touch me," you whimper, your voice breaking with desperation "Please I need you inside me" Your hips buck upwards, trying again to close the remaining distance between his teasing fingers and your soaked, aching sex. "Please, I can't take the teasing anymore. I'm so fucking wet for you, Caleb. I'm dripping all over your shirt. I need you to touch me." You look up at him with hooded, lust filled eyes, your cheeks flushed a deep, needy red. "Please, Caleb," you breathe out.

Before Caleb can act on your desperate pleas, you suddenly yank the shirt over your head in a desperate motion. Your naked breasts bounce free, the cool air of the room pebbling your hardened nipples. Caleb takes in the sight of your bare flesh, his gaze raking over every inch of exposed skin.

"Fuck, look at you," he growls "Desperate to be touched, to be claimed. Desperate to have my hands all over your body."

He leans down, taking one nipple into his mouth once more, but this time, there's nothing between his lips and your skin. He suckles hard, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud and at the same time, his hand moves, finally closing the distance between his fingers and your dripping sex. He cups your pussy, feeling the heat radiating from your folds. A low groan rumbles in his chest as he feels how wet you are, your arousal coating his fingers, making them glisten in the low light.

"God, you're fucking soaked," he murmurs against your breast, his fingers teasing along your slit, not penetrating, but close enough that you can feel the promise of what's to come. "Is this all for me? Are you this desperate for my cock every time you touch yourself, imagining it's me fucking this tight little cunt?"

"Yes, it's for you, it's always for you" you moan, spreading your legs wider.

Without warning, he plunges two fingers deep into you. Your walls flutter and squeeze around the sudden intrusion, trying to draw him in deeper. Caleb groans against your breast, the vibrations rumbling through your chest as he starts to pump his fingers in and out of your needy sex.

"Fuck, you're so goddamn tight," Caleb grunts, feeling your walls clench and ripple around his plunging fingers. "I can barely get two fingers inside your pretty cunt."

He starts to thrust faster, his fingers curling to rub against that sensitive spot deep inside you with each pass, his mouth moves from your breast, trailing open mouthed kisses across your collarbone. His tongue, hot and slick, drags up the column of your throat until he reaches the sensitive skin behind your ear. And then Caleb's thumb finds your clit, circling the swollen nub with ruthless precision. The combination of sensations, his fingers pumping into your dripping pussy, his tongue laving your neck, his thumb teasing your clit, has your hips bucking up to meet his touch.

"Caleb," you whimper, your fingers tangling in his hair, holding him close as you grind yourself against his hand. "Oh god, Caleb..." He leans in close, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "Keep your voice down, beautiful."

He pulls his fingers out from your dripping sex, leaving you whimpering at the sudden emptiness. Before you can protest at the loss, he's settling his broad shoulders between your thighs, his mouth mere inches from your core.

Your body tenses, anticipation and nerves coursing through you as you feel his hot breath ghosting over your sensitive flesh. You bite your lip hard, trying to stifle the needy whine building in your throat. He looks up at you, his dark eyes glinting with mischief and a dark promise. "I'm going to make you scream my name, I'm going to make this pretty little pussy come so hard, you'll forget your own name. The only name you'll remember is mine."

With that, he leans in, his tongue parting your folds in one long, slow lick. A moan tears from his throat at the first taste of your arousal, the sound vibrating against your flesh. Your back arches off the bed, your hands fisting in the sheets as pleasure crashes over you.

"Oh fuck, Caleb," you whimper, your voice barely above a whisper. Your thighs tremble, the muscles quivering with the effort of staying still, of not closing around his head and grinding your sex against his face. Caleb plunges his fingers deep inside you once more. He curls them just right, rubbing against that sensitive spot that makes your toes curl and your eyes roll back in ecstasy. His tongue, hot and slick, laps at your clit, circling and flicking over the swollen nub in a rhythm that has your hips bucking uncontrollably.

Your moans grow louder, more wanton, despite your best efforts to stay quiet. The combination of his fingers pumping in and out of you and his skilled mouth devouring your pussy is unlike anything you've ever experienced. You've touched yourself, imagined this scenario countless times, but the reality of Caleb's touch surpasses even your most vivid fantasies.

Caleb feels your body tensing, your walls fluttering around his fingers as your climax approaches. He doubles his efforts, fingers thrusting deeper, tongue flicking faster, determined to send you hurtling over the edge into blissful oblivion. Your hands fly to your mouth, trying to stifle the scream of rapture that threatens to escape your lips as your orgasm crashes over you.

He doesn't let up, continuing to thrust and lick, drawing out your pleasure until you think you might pass out from sheer ecstasy. The feeling is indescribable, a mind-blowing explosion of sensation that eclipses anything you've ever experienced alone.

Caleb slowly withdraws his fingers, bringing them up to his mouth to lick them clean "Fuck, you taste even better than I imagined" He crawls up your body, his eyes dark and hungry as he takes in your flushed skin and heaving chest.

As his face comes into view, you find yourself acting on pure instinct. Leaning up, you capture his lips with your own, pouring all the pent up desire and longing from years of secret admiration into the kiss. Your lips move against his with a fervor that surprises even yourself. He kisses you back, his lips moving against yours with a familiar hunger that sends a jolt of memory through you. The memory of a stolen kiss, years ago, in the dim light of the garage. A kiss that tasted of forbidden fruit, a kiss that you swore never to speak of again. But as your lips move against his, the memory comes rushing back, as vivid and intense as the day it happened. The feel of his lips, the scent of his skin, the way his hands gripped your waist and pulled you closer. It was a moment of teenage passion, a moment that you both knew was wrong but felt so right.

Now, as adults, that kiss takes on a new meaning. It's a promise, a vow, a declaration of intent. Caleb's hands slide up your sides, cupping your breasts, kneading the soft flesh as he deepens the kiss. His tongue pushes past your lips, claiming your mouth, exploring every inch of you.

You can feel his arousal pressing against your thigh, hard and insistent. The knowledge that you've reduced him to this state sends a thrill of power and desire coursing through you. You know you should put a stop to this, but you can't. You don't want to. The need to be one with him is overwhelming.

Caleb breaks the kiss, his breath hot against your lips. "Tell me you want this," he demands "Tell me you need me as much as I need you."

"I need you," you breathe out, your voice heavy with desire. Your hands fumble with the hem of his shirt, trying to tug it up and over his muscular chest. Caleb helps you, pulling the shirt off in one swift motion and tossing it aside. Your eyes widen as you take in the sight of his bare torso, the muscles and lean lines. Caleb smirks at your appreciative look "You like what you see, pipsqueak?" he teases, flexing subtly under your touch. "This body is all yours, for the taking. All you have to do is say the word."

He leans down, capturing your lips in another kiss as his hands roam your naked body, caressing every curve. You can feel the heat of his skin, the power in his muscles, and it makes your core clench. He breaks the kiss to trail his lips down your neck, his teeth grazing your pulse point.

Caleb grins against your skin at your eager movements, he feels you struggle to remove his pajama pants. "So impatient," he teases, but he helps you anyway, lifting his hips to allow the fabric to slide down his muscular thighs and calves. His cock springs free, long, hard and throbbing, the thick shaft pulsing with his racing heartbeat.

His smile fades as your small hand wraps around his thick cock. He inhales sharply at the contact, his hips jerking slightly. "Fuck, your hand feels so good," he grunts, his voice strained. But then he pushes you back down onto the bed, his large hands gripping your shoulders.

"No, not right now, princess," he says, shaking his head. "Right now, I need to be inside you. I need to feel your tight little pussy wrapped around my cock. I need to make you mine." He settles himself between your thighs. The thick head of his cock nudges against your folds, slipping through the wetness and leaving a trail of your arousal in its wake. Caleb's eyes lock with yours, his gaze intense and full of unspoken promises.

"Tell me you're ready, meimei," he demands, his voice low and rough with desire. "Tell me you need me inside you, stretching you, filling you up. Tell me you want me to fuck you" He doesn't push inside, not yet. He waits for your permission, for your confirmation that this is what you truly want.

"Please, Caleb," you whisper, your voice trembling with need. You reach down, gripping his ass, your nails digging into the firm flesh and you guide him to your entrance, the head of his cock catching on your hole for a moment before you push him forward, urging him inside.

Caleb flips your positions in a swift, smooth motion, leaving you straddling his lap. He grips your hips, his large hands spanning your waist, and lines himself up with your entrance.

"Set the pace, princess," he murmurs, his voice a low, rough rumble. "Take what you need, what you want. Fuck yourself on my cock until you're satisfied."

His eyes are dark and intense as they lock with yours, filled with a mix of desire, love, and something more, something that says he wants to watch you claim him, to take your pleasure from him without holding back.

"Fuck me, meimei," he growls, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips. "Show me how much you need it. Show me that this is what you've been dreaming of, what you've been craving. Show me that you're mine, now and forever." He doesn't push up into you, doesn't force you down onto his thick cock. He leaves that power in your hands, trusting you to take what you need, to set the rhythm and the pace. His heart pounds beneath your touch, his chest heaving with each breath.

Caleb inhales sharply as you sink down onto his thick shaft, his eyes fluttering closed at the exquisite sensation of your tight cunt engulfing him. He grips your hips tighter, his fingers digging into your soft flesh as he fights the urge to thrust up into you, to bury himself to the hilt in one powerful thrust.

Halfway down, you pause, a soft gasp escaping your lips. "It's too much," you whimper, your voice tight "I feel so full, Caleb. So incredibly full."

Caleb's eyes snap open, his gaze intense and concerned as he takes in your expression. He can feel your walls fluttering around him, clenching and unclenching as they struggle to adjust to his size. He knows he's stretching you more than you've ever been stretched before, knows that the feeling of fullness is almost overwhelming.

"Shh, it's okay, princess," he murmurs, his voice low and soothing. "You're doing so well, taking me so deeply. Just breathe, meimei. Breathe through the sensation and let your body adjust."

His hands slide up your sides, cupping your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples. "You feel incredible," he breathes out "Like you were made just for me, like your body was made to take my cock."

He sits up, pulling you flush against his muscular chest. His arm wraps tightly around your waist, holding you close as he starts to guide your movements. He doesn't force you to take him any deeper, respecting your need for adjustment. "Like this, princess," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. "Nice and easy, just like that. You're doing so well, taking me so beautifully."

He rocks your hips with his, helping you establish a gentle rhythm. The new angle allows you to slide up and down without feeling overwhelmed, the drag of his cock against your sensitive walls sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your body. Caleb's hand slides up your back, his fingers threading into your hair. He tilts your head to the side, his tongue traces the line of your jugular, feeling the way your pulse jumps and flutters at his touch. "Your body is incredible," he breathes out against your skin, his voice rough with desire. "The way you move on my cock, the way you take me in..." His other hand slides down your stomach, his fingers finding your clit. He starts to rub the sensitive nub in slow, deliberate circles, matching the pace of your hips. The added stimulation makes your walls clench and ripple around him, drawing a low moan from deep in his chest. As you continue to move on his lap, finding your rhythm, you start to take him deeper with each downward thrust. Caleb's breath grows ragged, his quiet moans filling the room as your walls grip him tighter and tighter. The feeling of you enveloping him inch by inch, your pussy engulfing his throbbing cock, is almost more than he can bear.

"Fuck, princess," he grunts, his fingers digging into the flesh of your ass. "You feel so fucking good. So tight, so perfect around my cock." He starts to meet your thrusts, rolling his hips up to drive himself deeper into your core. The new angle allows him to hit that special spot inside you with each surge of his hips. "Am I hurting you?" he asks, his voice strained with concern and desire. "Tell me if it's too much, tell me if you need me to stop."

But he doesn't stop, can't stop, driven wild by the way your body is consuming him. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his teeth finding your pulse point. He bites down, marking you, claiming you, as his hips thrust up into yours, driving himself deeper and harder with each passing second.

"Fuck, I can't..." he pants out, his voice wrecked and raw. "I can't hold back much longer, meimei. You feel too good, too fucking perfect. I need... I need..."

Caleb's eyes flutter open as you still your movements, meeting his gaze. Before he can speak, you capture his lips in a searing kiss, your mouth moving against his with desperate hunger. He kisses you back just as fiercely, his teeth nipping and tugging at your bottom lip.

"I love you," he breathes out against your mouth, the words tumbling from his lips like a sacred vow. "Fuck, y/n, I love you so much. You're mine, all mine." Hearing those three words, feeling the raw emotion make a new wave of emotion crash over you, and you start to move again, taking him to the hilt this time. You sink down onto his cock, your walls clenching and fluttering as you envelop him completely. You roll your hips, rising and falling, as you ride him with wild abandon. Each downward thrust drives him deeper, each upward roll of your hips bringing you back to the brink of ecstasy.

Caleb's hand slides from your hip to your stomach, feeling the way it bulges and stretches around his thick cock. He presses down on it, feeling the shape of himself inside you, the hard length of him pulsing and throbbing against your womb.

The sensation is too much for him. With a quiet moan of your name, he surges up into you, burying himself to the hilt. His cock jerks and twitches as he starts to come, his hot seed spurting deep inside your core.

"Fuck, y/n! Fuck, I'm coming! I'm coming inside you" His fingers dig into your hips, gripping you hard enough to bruise as he holds you down, forcing you to take every last drop of his release. His eyes squeeze shut, his head thrown back, lost in his climax.

The feeling of his hot cum painting your insides, claiming you from the inside out, pushes you over the edge. Your walls clamp down around him as your own orgasm crashes through you.

"Caleb!" you silently cry, not able to hold back anymore" Fuck...Yes, yes, yes!"

Your bodies shake and tremble together. The pleasure is so intense that it borders on pain. You cling to each other, riding out the waves of your releases, lost in the heat and the haze of your passion

Caleb hugs your waist tightly, his strong arms wrapped securely around you. He buries his face between your breasts, his panting breaths hot against your sensitive skin. His face is flushed, a deep rosy hue painting his cheekbones, proof of the intense pleasure and release you've just shared.

"Don't move, princess," he whispers against your skin "Let's stay like this for now. I want to feel you, all of you, wrapped around me."

"Do you feel that meimei?" he asks softly, "The way our hearts are beating together? The way our bodies fit, like two puzzle pieces made to interlock? Don't ever forget this moment," his gaze intense as he stares up at you. "Don't ever forget the way I feel inside you, claiming you, loving you. You're mine now, princess. Truly and completely mine."

Part 1 here

[achilles-rage]

Is She Mine?

summary: when buck left pennsylvania, he unknowingly left you there, pregnant with his child. four years later he runs into you and your daughter at the grocery store.

word count: 2.8k

a/n: another buck with a kid fic, another baby name from my baby name list used<3 if you don't like the name argue with the wall. someone gave me this idea months ago, but i can't find the ask, and i know birthmarks like that aren't hereditary or anything, but just pretend lol. anyway, enjoy<3

warnings: barely edited (sorry), reader has a daughter (obviously lol), no use of y/n, fem!reader, plus size!reader, race inclusive!reader

“Delia, come back here right now!” you whisper-yell down the grocery aisle, looking up right as you see your daughter disappear around the corner.

You’ve always been against kids on leashes, but lately, your three-year-old daughter has been single-handedly changing your opinion on them. You can’t take your eyes off of her for more than a couple of seconds before she’s gone; chasing after nothing in particular and probably talking to a random stranger or two along the way, if you know her at all.

You see flickers of her father in her; not merely in her appearance, but in who she is on the inside as well, and she’s never even met him. She’s extremely outgoing and talkative, and stubborn, and has a heart of gold. As much as you hate to see the painful glimmer of her father within her, it also makes you happy to think of your time with him.

You haven’t seen him since shortly after you realized you were pregnant. You were both in college in your home state, and when you took the pregnancy test, you couldn’t figure out how to tell him. You had ended up waiting too long, and when he told you that he was leaving to travel the world, you couldn’t stop him, as much as you wanted to.

You knew how miserable he was with his parents, and you couldn’t bring yourself to ruin his dreams. You knew all he wanted to do was get out of Pennsylvania, and you didn’t want to force him to stay with you just because you had done something stupid. 

You abandon your cart in the middle of the aisle and race after her, haphazardly pulling your purse up your arm as your eyes frantically look around you for a glimpse of her hair, or her light blue shirt. Or was it purple? God, you really need to start taking pictures of her before you go out with her, you think to yourself as your heart hammers in your chest.

Finally, you hear her loud giggle, and you let out a relieved sigh, following the noise and finally setting your sight on her curly hair and her blue shirt. Good to know you were right about that, at least.

“De, what are you doing? You can’t run away from m-” your words catch in your throat as you see that she’s talking to a man who’s bent down to her level and smiling fondly at her. 

When he turns and locks eyes with you, the smile drops from his face, and he stands up straight as his eyes travel down your body. His breath has been ripped from his lungs as he watches you pick up the little girl and set her on your hip, but before either of you can speak, your daughter squeals excitedly in your ear.

“Mommy, he’s got dots, too!” Her tiny hand shoots out toward his eyebrow, pointing at the birthmark above his eye, and you nod slowly, eyes still focused on Buck. Your sweet girl is completely oblivious to the tension between you and Buck; all she can focus on is that this random man at the grocery store has the exact same birthmark as her.

“Buck,” you breathe in disbelief, watching as the realization dawns on him. He knows exactly what he just heard. Mommy. And unless he’s suddenly extremely bad at math, he knows exactly what this means.

His eyes dart between you and your daughter, now seeing the mix of your features on her face. She has your eyes, and her hair is the exact same, but she also has his bright smile, and his nose, and of course, the same birthmark above her eye.

“Is she-” he begins, trailing off as he shakes his head. He’s trying hard to wrap his head around this situation, and the only thought running through his mind is why the hell didn’t she tell me?

“She’s three,” you reply softly, unable to bring yourself to say the real truth. He’s not stupid; you know you shouldn’t need to, and you don’t want to say a thing around Delia, anyway. 

“Why didn’t you-?” he begins again, but you cut him off, keeping a firm grip on your daughter as she wiggles around in your arms.

“You were miserable in Pennsylvania, I couldn’t make you stay,” you explain, your throat feeling tight as you feel all the emotions you’ve been shoving deep down for the past four years fighting their way to the surface again.

“You wouldn’t be making me stay, if I knew, I would’ve wanted to stay. You know that,” he tells you, brows furrowed. 

He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about you since he left. Leaving you in Pennsylvania was the hardest thing he’s ever had to do, but he knew how important it was for you to graduate, and he couldn’t ask you to leave with him and throw away your own dreams for his. 

Now, looking at you, and the little girl in your arms, his heart feels heavy. He feels guilty for not being there for you for four years. He wishes that he never left.

“And I wasn’t miserable. I had you,” he continues, his fists clenching at his sides as he watches his daughter wrap her arms around your neck and rest her little head on your shoulder. He wants more than anything to hold her, but she has no idea who he is, and that causes a pain in his chest.

“I’m sorry. We were young, and I didn’t know what to do,” you explain, guilt filling your belly. In hindsight, you know you should’ve told Buck; he had a right to know, but you didn’t know what to say.

“Well, I can’t just forget about this now. I can’t just go back to not seeing you, not seeing her,” he says, his tone pleading as he looks down at your daughter again, his eyes soft as he takes in her drowsy eyes.

“Delia,” you tell him with a small smile, tilting your head to the side and resting your cheek against the top of her head.

He smiles too, and you think you see tears forming in his eyes as he nods, then clears his throat.

“Delia,” he whispers. “She looks just like you,” he continues, louder this time. 

You laugh softly, shrugging as you squeeze Delia tighter to you. You’re thankful that she’s been quiet while you talk, clearly tired after a long day at the park, and then running errands.

“I think she looks like you,” you reply, and he chuckles softly, feeling a sense of pride fill his chest. He can’t believe he hasn’t been there to see his little girl grow up, and that you’ve had to do this all alone.

“Please let me see you again. Please.” You smile at his words; you knew Buck would want to help out as much as he could if he ever found out. You feel guilt eating at you as you see the longing in his expression, but this feels like a second chance, and you don’t want to cut him off again.

“Okay. But, can I call you later? I should get her home and ready for daycare tomorrow. We shouldn’t really talk about this here, anyway,” you say quietly, gesturing down to Delia. She may only be three, but she understands a lot, even in her sleepy state, and you don’t want to confuse her before you know what this is.

He nods quickly, then gives you his phone to get your number, and when he has it, you say goodbye before you go your separate ways. 

Your daughter waves haphazardly at Buck as you walk away, and you can’t help the grin that makes its way onto your face. She’s asked about her father before, and you never quite knew what to say. Maybe now she’ll actually be able to have the father she’s always asked about. The one that you’ve longed for for the last four years.

Later that night, when Delia’s in bed, you call Buck and set up a day for him to come over to spend the day with you two. You both agree not to tell Delia who he really is, at least not right away. First, you’ll just get her used to him, and then you’ll cross the next bridge when you get to it.

You weren’t at all surprised when the first time Buck showed up on your doorstep, Delia welcomed him in with a bright smile, grabbing his hand and bringing him into the living room where all her toys were scattered around. You weren’t surprised when Buck sat right down with her and played with her all day, either, only stopping for snack breaks.

Anything she would ask for, he would do, whether it was playing hide and seek, or painting with her, or throwing her up in the air as many times as she wanted while playing what she calls “rocket ship.”

Eventually, his afternoon visits ended up ending later and later, and you’d sit on the couch and talk long after Delia went to bed. You missed hanging out with him, and seeing him being so good with Delia had you falling for him all over again. 

It wasn’t hard to see that he felt the same; you could see the way his eyes wandered down your body, or down to your lips when you were speaking, but you never did anything about it. Your number one priority is Delia, and you don’t want to do anything too early and confuse her. 

One day, a few months after you had run into Buck, he’s sitting on the carpet with your daughter, holding two of her Barbie’s in his hands with furrowed brows as she explains to him who they are. You’re sitting with them, watching with a fond smile, when Delia stops, looking up at Buck quizzically.

“Are you my daddy?” she asks softly, her brows knit together in confusion as she eyes him.

Both you and Buck’s eyes widen, and your lips part as you try to figure out what to say. You knew this was coming, but you couldn’t figure out how to go about it.

“Why do you ask, sweetheart?” Buck finally says, tilting his head to the side as you watch them.

“Everyone at school has daddies. And, you love my mommy,” she explains, looking between the two of you. You tilt your head to the side and steal a glance at Buck, seeing the smile growing on his face. He meets your gaze for a second, raising a brow, and you nod once. You don’t know how this is going to go, but you want to try.

“Of course, I love your mommy. And I love you, too,” he assures her with a smile, bringing a hand up and tracing her chubby cheek with his fingers.

She smiles bashfully, tilting her head to the side, then stops for a moment, thinking. You can practically see the wheels turning in her head as she looks at the space between the two of you, spaced out, and then she looks back up at Buck.

“Will you be my daddy?” she asks, and your heart shatters when you see the nervousness in her eyes. Buck can feel tears forming in his eyes as he looks back into her eyes, and his heart somehow feels both full and empty at her words. He’s been hoping to eventually become Delia’s father for real, but hearing the uncertainty in her voice makes him want to hold her close and never leave her again.

“Yeah, baby, I’ll be your daddy,” he says after a moment, not wanting her to wait a second longer. He lets out a huff as Delia suddenly shoots up and launches herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and settling into his lap with an elated giggle.

“I love you, daddy,” she says breathlessly, nuzzling into his neck and squeezing him hard. You watch with a smile, tears forming in your own eyes as you see a tear slip down Buck’s cheek.

“I love you, too, sweetheart,” he whispers, his voice shaky as he hugs her close to his chest.

He’s always wanted a family, and now that he has this one, he never wants to let it go. He just can’t believe he missed out on the first three years. He’ll have to make it up to his girls, he thinks to himself.

“I’m gonna go talk to your mommy for a second. We’ll be right back, okay?” he tells your daughter when she finally gets off his lap and goes back to playing with her Barbie’s.

When you’re both in the kitchen, and sure Delia’s distracted, Buck closes the space between you two, cupping your cheeks and bringing your lips to his in a passionate kiss. You hold his wrists as you kiss him back, caught slightly off guard but quickly regaining your composure as you move your lips in time with his.

When you finally pull back, you’re both out of breath, and he looks down at you with sparkling eyes, studying your face for a moment before bringing your foreheads together. 

“I want to be a real family. I don’t just want her, I want you, too.” he whispers, letting his thumb trace along your skin as he holds your face in his hands. You laugh in slight disbelief, then nod, letting a tear finally fall down your cheek. The last four years without him have been exhausting, and all you wanted was this, but you never thought you could have it. Except now Buck is standing right in front of you, telling you that he wants exactly what you want.

“I want that, too.” you tell him softly, then bring your lips up to his again, kissing him with newfound fervour. 

Your hands go to his chest, bunching up the fabric of his shirt and pulling him closer as you part your lips and let his tongue slip into your mouth, searching. He keeps one hand on your face as the other goes down to your hip, holding you flush against him as he tilts your head further up into the kiss, and a low groan escapes his throat as he feels your plush middle pressed against him. 

You finally have to pull away when you hear your daughter’s squeal from the other room; yelling a high pitched “daddy!” 

You both race to the living room, letting out sighs of relief when you see her sitting in the same spot on the carpet that you’d left her, with a cheeky smile on her face.

“Can we have ice cream for dinner?” You scoff, laughing softly as you shake your head. You’ve seen that sweet little expression before; she knows exactly how to ask for what she wants, but unlike Buck, you’re more used to having to say no.

“Yeah, we can have ice cream for dinner, baby,” Buck replies before you can, and your head snaps in his direction, your eyes narrowed. He hasn’t noticed your reaction, however, as he’s smiling fondly at Delia as she squeals excitedly and makes her way to him.

When Buck picks your daughter up in his arms and finally turns to face you, you can feel the sliver of anger slip away, seeing how Delia is looking up at Buck with a dazed smile; clearly happy about finally having her daddy. 

“You’re already wrapped around her finger.” you tease, and all he does is shrug, a smile plastered to his face.

“Happily.” he replies, then leans down and gives you a gentle kiss. You both laugh when you hear Delia’s fake sounds of disgust, and when you pull back, Buck throws her up in the air, then catches her.

“Hey, if I’m gonna be your daddy, you’re gonna have to let me kiss your mommy, that’s part of the deal.” he teases as he throws her up in the air, eliciting a high-pitched giggle from her lips. 

“Okay, okay, okay!” she gets out through breathless gasps, and when Buck hums in victory and lowers her back into his arms, he gives her a big, sloppy kiss on the cheek.

You watch with a grin, and you can’t believe that you lived for four years without Buck. But now that he’s back, you never want to leave him again.

notes: likes/comments/reblogs would be much appreciated if you liked this<33

click here for my masterlist!

click here to be added to my taglist!

click here to read my request rules!

taglist: @officiallyalbino @wanniiieeee @dreams-encapsulated-in-glamour @buckandeddiesverison @catkight @tatyhend @emilysuperswag @kulteule @korosevren @nyx3028 @sporadicmakerwerewolf @sherlocksbaby2323 @essienoe @p14th0mps0n @celestixldarling @brooke0297 @zelfanswhenshecan @avengersgirllorianna @bingbongsupremacy @nishinoyahhh @alyssanicole01 @outof-spite @supernatural-bangtanboys @x0xchristine @pear-1206 @swanshells @tpwkstiles @lulubelle14 @cannibalhellhound @odetolocksmiths @rafecameronsloverrrrr @charlie-winchester94 @hollandxxmix @evysian @starbyun92939798 @maxinish @uhmidkmuch @theking-mustdie @daeswash @911varietyposts @superlock-in-the-tardis @lilsquatch7898 @hufflepuff-spidey @starboygf @wnbweasley @damndirtylitch @eva-tts5 @alexxavicry @sammiejane22 @boybandbaby (if you interacted with my taglist post and are not on this list, make sure your blog is visible in searches or i can’t tag you!)

[twilightofthesandwiches]

Okay, so one thought I had rattling in my head for a bit now is that the Dark Sanctuary of Deltarune Chapter 4 really reminds me of Undertale’s Waterfall.

I mean, the Dark Sanctuary doesn’t really have the water theming but… they are both the darkest parts of the game, both in a literal visual sense. With a mostly darker color-scheme and puzzles themed around darkness

and also in the narrative sense, being the most serious, solemn and grim part of the game. While Waterfall has its moments of levity and, y’know, Temmie Village, there’s a lot more focus of scenes of melancholy or fear compared to other parts of the game. While Undyne can be a very silly character, she only shows that side of herself to the Human during her Boss Fight right at the end and she’s otherwise a quiet and no-nonsense antagonist.

Deltarune Chapter 4 is the darkest chapter of Deltarune so far. It also has it's funnier moments but… The Church Dark World concept leads itself to much more serious theming and designs for the backgrounds and the enemies, it has some of the most serious exploration of our main characters' personalities and arcs, and has a lot of emphasize on the fact the stakes have been raised and Shit Just Got Real.

Plus, both Chapters deal heavily in the lore written on the walls of that area

Including a Prophecy

(well, in Deltarune it's exclusively a Prophecy, in Undertale it focuses on History and also includes a Prophecy)

And on a larger scale, both of these writings introduce the idea that the information we/the characters had before on the Lore is not the full picture.

And y'know, Gerson, who is present in both areas but also…

As the Hammer of Justice he also serves as a very heavy parallel to the Boss Fight(s) against Undyne in Undertale, both in visual design and gameplay (the Green Soul Mode).

Also, y'know, Piano Puzzles...

The thing is just… I didn't quite know what to do with this comparison. I mean, speculating on the idea the next Chapter would somehow be a Hotland Counterpart feels incredibly silly considering we already had two Dark Worlds that are very Hotland-like…

Which is when I realized, what if Deltarune Chapters correspond to Undertale areas but in reverse?

The Dark Sanctuary is like Waterfall and before it, TV World is a lot like Hotland, focused on TV-themed minigames controlled by an attention-hungry rectangular Game Show Host.

Cyber World would be the CORE, as the most high-tech themed areas in their respective games

And Queen and Spamton both including elements of Mettaton EX/NEO

Including Spamton NEO having the Yellow Soul Mode.

And Card Castle is the counterpart to New Home. Since these areas are both meant to be, well, a castle and it's surrounding area.

And King obviously being kind of a dark thematic reflection of Asgore.

…That would make Chapter 5 a Snowdin parallel to some degree, then Chapter 6 as a Ruins parallel, leaving Chapter 7 to do something totally off-the-rails and unique and unpredictable… Question is just what would that mean for Chapter 5 to be a "Snowdin Parallel"?

Since the Dark Sanctuary didn't really have water and TV World didn't really have magma-stuff, I don't think that would mean Chapter 5 would necessarily be an ice world, and indeed the only real hint we have to Chapter 5 right now is about a garden.

… It could be a somewhat more light-hearted Chapter after the huge drama-bombs we just had, since Snowdin is probably the most light-hearted and friendly part of Undertale… but there's also plenty of ways for it to be just as lore-heavy and serious and filled with revelations. Since the two things Snowdin was known for is the introduction of the Skeleton Brothers and it's Holiday Theming.

[linoxpudding]

Mixed Signals (Pt 2) - Lee Know

summary: he shows up at your door—on his knees, begging you to stay, finally saying everything you needed to hear, but you don’t know if your heart is ready to believe him yet

pairing: lee know x gn!reader

genre: angst, comfort

fic type: written + text

a/n: sorry for the delay! work got a little hectic ahh, also I just wanted to say a huge thank you for all the comments on PART 1, I read and appreciated every single one of them <3

Masterlist

~°~

You were pacing the living room barefoot, the quiet of the night pressing in around you, heart hammering in your chest, fingers running through your hair over and over. Your phone sat abandoned on the coffee table, his messages still glowing on the screen like little landmines.

Why was he coming now?

Why, after everything, was Minho suddenly begging you to stay?

Where was this version of him when you were lying awake night after night wondering what you meant to him? Where was this when you were staring at your phone for hours, waiting for a response that never came?

You could feel yourself cracking in two — one half still reeling from the pain, the other betraying you with hope. Stupid, shaking hope.

It was just past eleven when the banging began.

Not just a knock.

A loud, persistent pounding on your front door, it was panicked and relentless. You froze mid-step. Your stomach sank like a stone.

“Y/N,” he called out. His voice was rough. “Please. Open the door.”

You blinked fast, breathing quick and uneven. You didn’t want to see him. You couldn’t. But the sound of him on the other side of the door made it so, so hard to stay still.

You rushed toward the door, your voice a furious whisper. “Minho, are you crazy? It’s past eleven!”

“I had to come,” he said. “You weren’t listening. And I needed to make sure—needed you to see how serious I am.”

You stared at the handle, as if it was holding you back from everything you were trying not to feel.

“You're being so loud,” you hissed as you pressed your forehead to the door, eyes shut, torn apart inside. “Do you want to be seen? What if someone recognizes you?”

You hated that he was out there where anyone could spot him — your neighbors, strangers, fans. You hated even more how deeply you still cared about protecting his idol image.

Even after everything.

Even after the mixed signals, the hot and cold, the way he pulled you in just to push you away again.

“I don’t care!” His voice cracked. “I don’t care about any of that. I care about you.”

You gritted your teeth. “Go home, Minho. I told you I need space.”

He knocked again, louder, more desperate.

“I can’t,” he said. “I can’t go anywhere if you’re not in my life. Please, Y/N. Just this once. Let me explain. Let me try.”

You groaned under your breath and yanked the door open, grabbing his arm and pulling him inside before anyone saw him.

Once the door shut, you turned on him. He stood there, breathing hard, hoodie up and cap low, eyes rimmed red like he’d been crying. Or maybe he was crying.

“Why are you so stubborn?” you demanded, your voice low and furious, barely hiding the tremble.

But before you could say another word, he dropped to his knees.

Just collapsed.

He wrapped his arms tightly around your waist, pressing his face into your stomach like he was afraid you’d vanish if he let go. And Minho looked utterly undone.

“Please don’t walk away from me,” he whispered, his voice shaking, his body trembling against yours.

Your hands hovered in the air for a moment before one of them gently found the back of his head.

“I know I was distant,” he choked, “I know I confused you, and I hate myself for it. I thought if I didn’t lean in too much, if I stayed in control, then maybe… I wouldn’t fall so hard.”

He looked up at you then, still on his knees, eyes glassy and red-rimmed.

“But I did fall. Harder than I ever have. And by the time I realized it, I’d already pushed you too far away.”

Your chest tightened, tears stinging your eyes as his arms held you tighter.

“I love you,” he said, with no hesitation this time. “I love you so much that it terrified me. But not loving you? Losing you? That’s worse. That’s unbearable.”

He pressed his forehead to your stomach again, almost like he was trying to breathe you in.

“I’m begging you, Y/N… please. Don’t break up with me.”

You stood frozen, your hands trembling as they hovered above his shoulders. Part of you still wanted to push him away—punish him for every unanswered message, every night you cried yourself to sleep wondering why love felt like guessing.

But the other part of you ached to believe him.

You slid down slowly to your knees, your eyes never leaving his. His arms loosened around you just enough for your hands to cradle his face—his cheeks damp with silent tears.

“Why now?” you whispered, voice cracking. “Why did it take losing me for you to finally show up like this?”

He shook his head miserably. “Because I’m a coward. And I’ve never had something this real before. I didn’t know how to hold it without breaking it.”

You swallowed hard, brushing your thumb under his eye. “You didn’t break it, Minho. You just… made me feel like I didn’t matter.”

The guilt in his expression was unbearable.

“I was wrong,” he said. “You matter more than anything. And I’ll spend every day showing you that....if you’ll let me.”

The silence hung between you for a beat too long, the air heavy with all the almosts. Then you leaned forward.

Your forehead pressed to his, and he let out the softest, most relieved breath, like his heart had been held underwater until that moment.

“I don’t know how to trust you again overnight,” you whispered, “but I still love you.”

His arms were around you in an instant, pulling you into him like he was afraid he’d wake up and you’d be gone again.

“That’s enough,” he murmured, lips brushing your temple. “That’s more than I deserve.”

You let yourself fold into him, your fingers fisting the back of his hoodie, the two of you kneeling on the floor in the middle of your apartment, wrapped in silence and each other.

You didn’t know what would come next. There were still wounds to be healed, conversations to be had.

But in that moment— just past eleven, on your living room floor— you let love win.

--------

Permanent Taglist:

@kaiyaba @lov3rachan @pixie-felix @ellemir2404 @willowhanji @skzimagines @wavetohannie @jamroses @vietjeb @kayleefriedchicken @kokinu09 @nightmarenyxx @my-neurodivergent-world @shuuporanglinos @silly250 @notmedina127 @thecutiepieme @stay-tiny-things @inlovewithstraykids @skz-ot8-stay @emilyywhyy @havenwithleeknow @hungryhobbit815 @seungminnieinthebuilding @beabidoobee @geni-627 @ye0lkkot @yaorzu-blog @butterflybananabread @nightshadeblooming @rockstarkkami @finannn @poody1608 @scarlet789 @mbioooo0000 @icannotbelieveit @casperlynn23 @rtyuy1346 @maddy24207 @ari-hwanggg @jisuperboard @nougatjade @skzlover24

[chrissssssmut]

Hi love the yandere fics here’s mine with a yandere karina noona with a subby malereader with some smut please

Noona's Favorite (SMUT)

dom!Noona Karina x sub!Male Reader

AN: Surprise Smut Y'all! Hope y'all like this one!♥️ I'll be back by the weekend again!😭🫶🏻

It started subtly at first. Karina had always been a doting older sister, a little overprotective, a little too touchy, but nothing alarming. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

You were used to her treating you like her baby, pampering you even when you insisted you could handle yourself. But lately, it had become more than just affectionate teasing. She decided what you ate, what you wore, and even who you could talk to. She didn’t outright forbid you from having friends, but whenever you made plans, she conveniently needed you at home. If you resisted, she’d pout, guilt-tripping you into staying. And if guilt didn’t work? Her tone would turn sharp, a quiet authority in her voice that made you shudder.

It was easy to dismiss as just Karina being Karina—until you realized you hadn’t hung out with anyone outside of her in weeks.

One evening, as you sat on the couch, Karina sat beside you, pressing close like she always did. Her fingers lazily played with the hem of your oversized sweater—one that she had bought for you. “You’ve been so good for noona lately,” she murmured, her voice a mix of amusement and something deeper, something possessive. “I like it when you listen.”

You swallowed hard, staring at the television, pretending not to notice the way her fingers trailed up your arm. “I’m not a kid anymore, noona,” you muttered, shifting uncomfortably. “You don’t have to—”

Her nails scraped lightly against your wrist before she gripped it, cutting off your words. “But you are mine,” she whispered, leaning in, her lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “Aren’t you?”

Your breath hitched. The air between you felt too thick, too charged. You tried to pull away, but her grip tightened. Not enough to hurt—just enough to remind you of the power she had over you. “Noona…”

She hummed, tilting her head, a knowing smile playing at her lips. “That’s not a no.”

You looked away, your heart hammering against your ribs. She had always been overwhelming, but lately, it felt like she was actively trying to break you down.

And maybe the scariest part was that it was working.

You weren’t sure when exactly you stopped fighting. When did it start feeling natural to wait for her approval before making decisions? When did you start looking forward to her praise, her touches, her attention?

One night, after she had dressed you in the clothes she picked out—something soft, something that made you look smaller than you were—she sat you on her lap, her arms wrapped around your waist. “Such a good boy,” she whispered against your hair, her fingers tracing patterns on your thigh. “Noona’s so proud of you.”

Your cheeks burned, but you didn’t move away. You should have. You knew this wasn’t normal. But when she held you like this, when she spoke to you like you were something precious, it was so hard to think of anything else.

She had won.

It wasn’t until she started locking the doors that you realized how deep you had fallen.

“Noona,” you said one night, watching as she casually turned the key in the front door. “Why are you locking it?”

She smiled, pocketing the key. “Because I don’t want my baby running off.”

A chill ran down your spine. “I—I wasn’t going to—”

She stepped closer, her fingers tilting your chin up so you had no choice but to meet her gaze. “You don’t need to, do you?” she cooed. “Everything you need is right here. With me.”

Your breath came unevenly. She was too close, her scent intoxicating, her touch warm yet suffocating. “Noona, this isn’t…”

“Shhh.” She pressed a finger to your lips, her expression soft but firm. “I know what’s best for you.”

And the worst part was… you believed her.

You stood up, stretching. “I think I’ll take a bath.”

Karina tilted her head. “A bath?”

You nodded. “Yeah… I just want to relax for a bit.”

She pursed her lips, then closed the gap on you gracefully. “I’ll help.”

You blinked. “Noona, I can—”

She was already firm with her decision, fingers grazing your collarbone. “You’re always so shy,” she murmured. “Let noona take care of you.”

Her hands found the hem of your shirt, and before you could protest, she was pulling it up, her eyes gleaming with something dark, something possessive. “Let me make sure you’re all clean,” she whispered.

Your breath hitched as she guided you toward the bathroom, her grip on your wrist firm, unyielding. She gazed at you, her fingers reaching for your waistband.

“You don’t have to do this, noona,” you tried, but your voice came out weaker than you intended.

She only smiled, her fingers ghosting over your skin. “Shhh, just let noona take care of you. Isn’t that what you always want?”

Your heart pounded as she stepped closer, her gaze never leaving yours. Her fingers traced over your exposed skin, slow and deliberate, her touch sending shivers down your spine.

She leaned in, her breath warm against your ear. “I love how obedient you are for me,” she whispered. “You were made to be taken care of.”

She hung up the towel with a practiced ease, setting out the usual hygiene essentials before turning back to you.

You kept your head down, heat creeping up your neck, your bare skin prickling under her gaze. It was humiliating—being this exposed, this vulnerable in front of her—but Karina only smiled, tilting her head like she was enjoying the sight.

Without hesitation, she reached for the shower, twisting the knob until warm water cascaded down. “Let’s begin,” she murmured, her voice smooth, unbothered, as if this was just another normal routine between you.

At first, it was. She rinsed you carefully, fingers moving with practiced ease, lathering soap over your skin like she had done this a hundred times before. But then, her hands wandered lower—slow, teasing, tracing a path down your stomach.

Your breath hitched.

Her touch was different now, her fingers gliding over you with a pace too slow, too sensual to be anything but intentional. A quiet moan escaped your lips before you could stop it.

Karina leaned in, her lips brushing against the shell of your ear, her voice nothing more than a whisper. “See? Noona knows exactly what you need,” she purred. “So stop fighting it, baby. Just let me take care of you.”

Her fingers wrapped around your cock, warm and firm, moving with an agonizing slowness that sent a shiver down your spine. Her strokes were teasing, deliberate—just enough to keep you tense, to keep you hard, but never enough to satisfy.

Karina stayed close, her breath hot against your ear as she whispered sweet, possessive words, her voice dripping with amusement. “You’re so sensitive,” she cooed, giving you a slow, purposeful squeeze. “So obedient for noona.”

Her pace gradually quickened, the slick glide of her hand becoming more intense, more intoxicating. Every stroke, every whispered word sent waves of pleasure through your body, making it harder to think—harder to resist.

As Karina maintained her steady, intoxicating pace on you, her free hand moved to the hem of her shirt. With a slow, deliberate motion, she lifted it over her head, revealing the curves of her body—her bra struggling to contain the weight of her full, perfect breasts. The sight alone had you swallowing hard, your cock twitching in her grip.

She noticed. Of course, she did.

“Does noona look that good, baby?” she cooed, a teasing smile playing on her lips. She let the fabric drop carelessly to the floor, tilting her head as if she was waiting for your answer.

You couldn’t speak, couldn’t even breathe properly. The way her fingers moved along your length had already stolen most of your composure, but now? Now, with her bare skin right in front of you, your mouth was dry, your throat tight.

Karina giggled at your silence. “You’re so cute when you’re shy,” she murmured. Then, without breaking her rhythm, she hooked her fingers into the waistband of her shorts, sliding them down inch by inch, revealing the delicate black lace of her panties—so sheer, so sinful, that it left little to the imagination.

Her eyes darkened as she leaned in closer, her breath warm against your ear. “You don’t have to hold back anymore,” she whispered. “Noona knows exactly what you need.”

Your moans grew louder with each passing second, your body trembling under Karina’s touch. She stood in front of you, barely clothed—her toned stomach, her soft, supple curves all on display—while her hand worked you at a pace that kept you teetering on the edge, never quite letting you fall. She knew exactly what she was doing, knew how to toy with you, how to drag out every second of pleasure until you were completely at her mercy.

She caught the way your gaze kept flickering down, unable to resist staring at her chest—the way her breasts strained against the flimsy lace of her bra, the way they moved with every small motion.

A sly smirk spread across her lips. “You keep staring, baby,” she mused, her voice dripping with amusement. “Do you like noona’s tits that much?”

Your breath hitched, heat burning through your body, but before you could stammer out a response, she leaned in closer, her tone turning even more seductive.

“Tell me… how would it feel if I let you between them?”

Your lips parted, but no words came out—just shaky breaths and the sound of your heartbeat pounding in your ears. Karina knew exactly what she was doing to you, how easily she could turn you into a trembling mess beneath her touch.

Before you could even process it, she pressed closer, her soft, warm skin enveloping you as she nestled your cock between the plush valley of her breasts. A teasing smile played on her lips as she gave an experimental squeeze, trapping you between them before slowly beginning to move.

A low, broken moan slipped past your lips, your hands instinctively gripping her shoulders for support. The heat, the softness—it was overwhelming, and Karina reveled in your reaction, keeping her gaze locked on yours as she continued.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” she murmured, her tone laced with amusement. “Don’t hold back, baby… I want to hear you.”

You struggled to keep yourself together, but Karina had no intention of letting you. She wanted to remind you exactly what you were—nothing more than her submissive boy.

She toyed with your length, slowly pressing her soft mounds around it, trapping you in warmth. Every time the tip peeked out between her breasts, her tongue was there, flicking against it with deliberate, teasing strokes.

"Aww, look at you," she cooed, her voice dripping with amusement. "So desperate, so easy to control."

You let out a shaky breath as she continued, the slick heat of her tongue making it impossible to hold back your reactions. Then, with a mischievous glint in her eyes, she slid you free from her cleavage and tapped your length against her hardened nipples. Each slap sent a jolt of sensation through you, and she smirked at your helpless whimpers.

"You like that, don’t you?" she teased, pressing your tip against her stiff peak, making sure you could feel every inch of her. "Come on, baby, don’t hold back. Tell me how good it feels."

You whimpered out an answer, your voice shaky, needy—"Noona… you feel so good… so warm…"

Karina's lips curled into a smirk, clearly pleased with your response. "Mmm, I know, baby," she purred, her pace on you growing faster, more relentless. The slick heat of her touch, the way she worked you so effortlessly—it was too much.

Your body tensed, breath hitching as that familiar, dizzying pressure coiled tighter in your core. She could feel it, sense it. "Getting close, aren’t you?" she teased, her tone dripping with satisfaction. "Go on, baby… let noona feel all of it."

Within minutes, the tension in your body snapped, a strangled moan escaping your lips as your release spilled over Karina’s chest, streaking across her soft skin and soaking into the delicate black lace of her bra. Your vision blurred for a moment, waves of pleasure crashing over you so intensely that your legs nearly gave out.

Karina let out a low, satisfied hum, her fingers gliding over the mess you left on her. "Such a needy boy," she teased, scooping up the warmth with her fingers before bringing them to her lips. Her tongue darted out, tasting you, savoring it.

She locked eyes with you, a smirk playing at her lips as she licked her fingers clean. "Mmm… so sweet," she mused, tilting her head as she watched you struggle to stay upright. "See? Noona always takes care of you."

You could barely think, chest rising and falling rapidly as the aftershocks of pleasure left you weak. "K-Karina… I…" You swallowed hard, still dizzy, still trying to find your footing.

But she only chuckled, reaching out to steady you with a firm yet gentle grip. "Aww, poor baby," she cooed, running a hand up your shaky thigh. "Was it too good? Did noona wear you out?"

You lay in her arms, completely spent, your body too weak to move. She stroked your hair, pressing a kiss to your temple. “See?” she murmured, satisfied. “Noona will always take care of you.”

You should have been afraid. But all you felt was the warmth of her embrace, the possessive weight of her touch, and the undeniable truth:

You were hers.

Days passed, and you barely noticed how much time you spent inside the house. Karina barely let you leave her side, and when you did, she made sure to bring you back quickly. She cooked for you, dressed you, held you—she controlled every part of your life now.

One afternoon, she came up behind you, wrapping her arms around your waist as you stood by the window, staring at the outside world. “Thinking of leaving me, baby?” she murmured, lips brushing against your nape.

You shivered. “No, noona… I was just—”

“Just what?” Her tone darkened. “You don’t need anything out there. I give you everything you could possibly want.”

“I know, noona,” you whispered. “I just… I miss fresh air.”

She turned you around, cupping your face in her hands. “Noona can give you fresh air,” she murmured. “On one condition.”

You swallowed hard. “W-what condition?”

Her smile was soft, deceptively sweet. “Kneel.”

Your legs felt weak as you sank down before her, your body responding before your mind could catch up. She chuckled, brushing your hair back lovingly. “Good boy.”

You swallowed hard and obeyed, lowering yourself before her as she slowly slid her hands down to the waistband of her shorts. Instead of starting from the top this time, she smirked and pushed them down first, revealing a pair of delicate pink lace underwear that left little to the imagination.

Your body reacted instantly—your length twitching at the sight of her teasing curves wrapped in soft fabric. She noticed, of course. Karina always noticed.

"Aww," she cooed, stepping closer, her fingers brushing through your hair. "You're so easy to read, baby."

With one slow, deliberate motion, she pushed her shorts down her legs, letting them pool around her ankles. Then, her fingers tilted your chin up, making sure you were looking at her as she gave her next order.

"Take it off," she murmured. "But with your mouth."

Your breath hitched, hesitation flickering across your face. She could see it, the slight falter in your movement, the uncertainty in your eyes. But Karina wasn’t the type to tolerate hesitation—not from you.

Her grip in your hair tightened, a silent reminder of your place. "Don’t make me ask twice," she warned, her voice dripping with authority. "Or do I need to remind you who’s in charge?"

That was all it took. With shaky breaths, you leaned in, lips parting as you carefully caught the waistband of her lace underwear between your teeth. Karina let out a pleased hum, her fingers running through your hair as you slowly pulled them down, fully submitting to her.

"Good boy," she whispered, a wicked smile tugging at her lips. "I knew you'd listen."

As her underwear slid down her legs and hit the floor, you were met with the sight of her bare, glistening pussy—pristine, well taken care of, and utterly mesmerizing. The warmth of her skin, the way she stood before you with unwavering confidence, sent a shiver down your spine.

Karina ran her fingers through your hair, tugging lightly as she looked down at you with a smirk. "What are you waiting for?" she murmured, voice thick with need. "Put that pretty mouth to use and make noona feel good."

You swallowed hard before leaning in, your breath hot against her. With careful precision, you pressed your lips to her cunt, starting off slow—exploring, getting a feel for her. The way her body tensed slightly, the soft little gasps she let out, it was intoxicating.

"Don’t be shy now," she teased, but her voice hitched when your tongue flicked just right. You took that as your cue, growing bolder, pressing deeper, letting your tongue work its wonders.

A sharp moan escaped Karina’s lips, her grip tightening in your hair as her thighs threatened to close around your head. "Oh—fuck," she breathed, surprised. Her head tilted back slightly, eyes fluttering shut as pleasure washed over her. "You—ahh… you already know exactly where to touch me…?"

Her reaction fueled you, pushing you to focus on those exact spots, determined to keep pulling those sweet, unrestrained moans from her lips.

Karina's moans filled the room, each desperate sound growing louder as your tongue moved against her, working her just right. Every flick, every slow drag of your tongue had her gasping, her fingers tightening in your hair as if she never wanted you to stop.

She looked down at you, her eyes dark, hazy—filled with pure lust. The way she stared at you, lips parted, chest rising and falling rapidly, sent a deep ache straight to your core.

"Mmm… such a good boy for noona," she purred, her voice breathy yet commanding. "You love tasting me, don’t you?"

You let out a low hum against her, the vibration making her shudder. A smirk tugged at her lips before she tilted your chin up slightly with two fingers, just enough to see the hunger in your eyes.

"Look at you," she cooed, a teasing lilt to her voice. "So eager�� so needy. You love noona’s pussy, don’t you?"

The way she said it—the way she owned you in that moment—made your length twitch, growing impossibly harder. She noticed, of course. She always noticed.

"Aww," she teased, dragging a thumb along your cheek. "You're so hard just from eating me out? That’s adorable."

Karina let out a breathy chuckle, her fingers still tangled in your hair as she looked down at you with a wicked glint in her eyes. Then, in that same sultry tone that made your body burn, she murmured, "Do you want to feel noona from the inside?"

The words sent a shiver down your spine. At first, you froze, caught off guard by how direct she was. But in the state you were in now—desperate, aching, completely under her control—you didn’t even have to think about it.

"Y-Yeah… I do," you admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

Karina smirked, but instead of giving in to your desire right away, she leaned down, her lips ghosting over your ear. "Then make me cum first," she purred, voice laced with command. "If you want to feel me, you better work for it, baby."

You didn’t need to be told twice. Without hesitation, you buried yourself back between her thighs, this time with renewed determination. Your tongue moved faster, more precise, eager to pull every last moan from her lips. You even slid two fingers inside, curling them just right, feeling the way she clenched around you.

Karina let out a sharp gasp, her body tensing as her grip on your hair tightened. "Ahh—fuck, that’s it," she moaned, her hips rolling against your face. "Just like that… don’t stop, baby… make noona cum."

You kept your pace, relentless and steady, feeling her body tremble beneath your touch. Within minutes, her release became inevitable, and a sudden gush coated your face as she cried out in pleasure. Her moans grew louder, desperate, each breathy whimper fueling your own arousal.

“A-Ah! Oh my god—! I’m cumming, I’m cumming!” she wailed, her back arching off the table.

As the intense waves of pleasure overtook her, she thrashed against you, hands gripping your hair tightly. More of her release splashed against your skin, dripping down your chin, but she didn’t care—she was too far gone.

Through ragged breaths, she gasped, voice laced with raw desperation.

“Put it in—now! Fuck, put your cock inside me while I’m cumming!”

Your body moved on instinct, obeying without hesitation. After all, you were a good little brother, and you would always follow her every command.

With your cock already buried deep inside Karina, you started moving—slow and deliberate, savoring every inch as her tight walls clenched around you. The way she gasped, her breath hitching with every measured thrust, sent a thrill down your spine. She was so warm, so wet, every part of her pulling you in deeper, making it impossible to hold back.

But she wasn’t having any of your teasing.

“F-Fuck,” she whimpered, her legs wrapping tightly around your waist. “Why the hell are you moving so slow?”

You gritted your teeth, trying to control yourself, but the way her nails raked down your back made it impossible to ignore her desperation.

“Stop holding back and fuck me properly,” she demanded, voice dripping with frustration. “Harder—faster! I don’t wanna feel you playing around, I wanna feel you ruin me.”

The sheer need in her tone sent a jolt of heat through you, and you finally gave in, gripping her hips tightly as you slammed into her. The shift in pace had her moaning uncontrollably, her body trembling beneath you as you drove into her with everything you had.

You kept your pace fast, each thrust drawing a moan from Karina—breathy, desperate, laced with curse words as she struggled to handle just how good your cock felt inside her.

“F-Fuck… shit—ahh… how the hell do you feel this good?” she gasped, her nails digging into your shoulders.

She was still the dominant one, still in control, but even she couldn’t hide how overwhelmed she was. No matter how much she tried to keep her composure, her body betrayed her—hips instinctively rolling to meet your thrusts, walls tightening around you like she never wanted to let you go.

“Shit… you’re supposed to be the submissive one,” she growled, panting heavily, her voice trembling with pleasure. “But your cock—f-fuck, I can’t believe how good it feels inside me…”

Her pride told her to stay in control, but the way her body reacted to you told a completely different story.

You continued thrusting into her for what felt like an eternity, completely lost in the heat of her body. Every moan, every desperate gasp she let out only pushed you closer to the edge. And then, suddenly, that familiar pressure coiled tightly in your core—your release was coming fast.

“N-Noona… I-I’m close,” you panted, voice strained as you tried to hold on. “I should pull out—”

Before you could even think of stopping, Karina’s hands shot up, gripping your back hard, nails digging in deep enough to leave marks. Her legs locked around your waist, trapping you in place as she tightened around you.

“The fuck you are,” she growled, her voice low and commanding. “You’re gonna cum inside me. Every. Last. Drop.”

Her breath was hot against your ear, her body trembling beneath you, yet her dominance remained unshaken.

“If you even think about pulling out, I swear I’ll punish you so badly you won’t be able to walk tomorrow,” she warned, her hips grinding against yours, pushing you deeper inside her. “Now be a good boy and fill me up.”

The way she clenched around you, her words dripping with authority, sent you over the edge. There was no resisting her—there never was.

Within seconds, your release hit you like a tidal wave. With one final thrust, you buried yourself deep inside Karina, your cock pulsing as you spilled everything inside her, painting her walls white. She gasped, her body shuddering beneath you as she felt the warmth of your climax filling her completely.

“F-Fuck…” she moaned, her nails still gripping your back. “That’s it… just like that… mmh, such a good boy for noona.”

Your body trembled as you finally pulled out, and the sight beneath you made your breath hitch—thick, creamy release spilling out of her, dripping down her thighs, evidence of just how much you had given her. Karina bit her lip, fingers trailing down to her core, gathering some of the mess before holding it up for you to see.

“Look at this,” she smirked, voice dripping with satisfaction. “You filled me up so well, baby.”

She leaned in, pressing a soft but teasing kiss to your lips. “You really are such a good boy for me.”

Karina let out a satisfied sigh, her fingers lazily tracing circles on your chest as she admired the mess you left inside her. A smirk tugged at her lips as she glanced up at you, eyes dark with lingering desire.

“You did so well for me,” she purred, her voice soft yet commanding. “Good boys always get rewarded.”

Before you could even respond, her hand reached down, wrapping around your still-sensitive cock, her touch sending a jolt of pleasure through your exhausted body. She stroked you slowly, teasingly, her grip firm yet gentle.

“You want to keep being a good boy for noona, don’t you?” she cooed, tilting her head as her thumb grazed over your tip, smearing the remnants of your release. “You’ll always make noona happy, won’t you?”

Her grip tightened slightly, making your breath hitch. She leaned in, lips ghosting over your ear.

“Because good boys don’t stop until noona says so.”

You never went out for that fresh air anymore. The thought barely even crossed your mind. All that mattered was making your noona happy. Pleasing her. Obeying her.

Not that she would ever let you out.

Ever.

[ink-n-shadow]

youve inspired me to write a fic for ghost.....its gonna be about finger suckin..... i just think hed have some handsome hands

ghost with oral fixation!reader…🤤

i also cannot wait for your fic (you should totally tag me anon)

NICE HANDS

𝜗𝜚 pairing: simon "ghost" riley x afab!reader 𝜗𝜚 cw: smut (minors—DNI), finger sucking, dumbification, oral fixation

because he like wouldn’t really get it at first. he didn’t realize his hands were even considered attractive until you come around, heated cheeks and doe eyes unable to pull away from the way tattoo ink and veins branch up from the bottom of his wrist.

ghost still didn’t really get it until he got you folded up with your knees to your chest one night, one of his hands moving from its bruising place on your thigh to push your cheeks into a lewd pout.

“the lights even on in there?” he chuckled hoarsely under his breath as he shakes your head back and forth a bit, watching your glossy eyes struggling to focus on his with his uncut tip hammering a home against your cervix. “don’t tell me yer that cockdrunk right now, pet.”

you could only offer ghost up the most pathetic sounding mewl, your head tipping to the side just right for your mouth to seek out his thick thumb and immediately wrap your lips around it.

and it was then, with your tongue lapping stupidly at his thumb and your cunt fluttering around his thick cock as you came for the third time, that ghost understood your oral fixation. he doesn’t think he’s ever cum that hard from sex ever.

after that night, ghost puts his fingers in your mouth whenever he wants to. he’s hooking his fingers into both cheeks as he fucks you from behind. he’s gagging you with the ringed fingers on his left hand while his other scissors your gummy walls open. he’s using his fingers to shut you up as he fucks you in the bar bathroom, making sure you reach the second knuckle in order to silence the pathetic noises leaving your mouth.

but ghost is also gingerly swiping away the stray lip gloss that is swiped beneath your bottom lip. he’s wiping off the coffee foam that collects on your top lip before holding out his thumb for you, letting you kitten lick it off as you giggle warmly. he’s letting you keep sucking on his fingers after a particularly draining scene, knowing the action soothes you out of subspace.

ghost didn’t think about it before, but he really has you caged between his fingers—quite literally.

©️ ink-n-shadow 2024

do not copy, plagiarize, steal, borrow, or repost any of my work without my expressed permission

[valentina-writes]

The Distance He Keeps - Part 1

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel and you have been best friends for centuries. But all of a sudden he won't talk to you anymore.

words: 1.5k | masterlist | part 2 | part 3

This is a 3 part series. The other parts will be released in the next days. I hope you enjoy xx

A/N: I honestly don't know if any of y'all are still here, but I'm kinda back! This was not requested, it's kind of a try at starting to write again. I can't promise that I'm going to be really active again and for now I'm not taking requests. We'll see how it goes :)

I was late for dinner, I realized as I hurried through the front door and foyer of Rhys's townhouse and into the dining room. The inner circle, my friends, my family, were gathered around the long wooden table. All of them were already here, eating, laughing and talking. Their words didn't quite reach me. The only empty seat was my usual one, next to Azriel, who had his wings neatly folded behind his back and was engaged in conversation with Rhys. I squared up my shoulders and excused my late arrival: "Hi everyone. Sorry I'm late, work was terrible". The latter was directed mainly at Rhys. I'd have to have a talk with him later. The rest of my friends greeted me, smiling. Only Azriel didn't. In fact, he did not even look my way. My heart froze in my chest. He had been ignoring me for weeks. My breath hitched as I waited for any sort of reaction, but he resumed his conversation as if I weren't there. My eyes started burning at his disregard and I fought to regain compusure. For a split second I contemplated winnowing away on the spot. But this was our first dinner like this in weeks and I could make this uncomfortable for him too.

With long strides I walked over to Cassian, who was seated next to Nesta. I stopped next to him and he happily said "Hi Y/N". Well, this was going to be awkward. My only response was "Move". The conversations around me came to a halt as Cassian's expression turned to amused confusion. "I… what?". My heart hammered in my chest and heat rose to my cheeks. I did not dare look up to see if Azriel was finally acknowledging me. "I said move", I repeated. And then, quieter, so only he could hear it "Please". He stood up without conplaining and from the look I saw in Nesta's eyes, I gathered she must have said something through the bond to make him comply. I slid into Cass's seat and started to fill my plate as conversation around the table resumed as if nothing had happened. But something had happened. For 300 years I'd had my spot at this table. I had never sat elsewhere. Until today. I mumbled a thanks to Nesta and started eating, when I felt Rhys at the edges of my consciousness, stroking softly against my mental shields to be let in. In response, I slammed a second wall down and shook my head at him slightly. He didn't try again.

Dinner was tense. I tried talking to Nesta, but I was so busy not to look the way of the tall shadowsinger that several times she had to ask her questions twice before I realized she was still talking to me. Nobody addressed my entrance. Inside me, my blood was boiling, my heart a pile of glass shards. I had tried to excuse Azriel's behavior during the past weeks. Most of the time I convinced myself that he was simply too busy with work to spend as much time with me as he used to. But this was different, we were at home for Cauldron's sake. He was supposed to be different here, he was supposed to welcome me with a warm hug and hand me seconds at dessert. How could he all of a sudden not care anymore at all?

I was so lost in thought that I barely registered Rhys standing up and proclaiming: "Excuse us, Y/N and I have to talk about her work". For a second, I merely stared at him, then I dropped my fork and knife on the table and stood up. It was comically obvious that this was not about my work. When we had just crossed the threshold into the foyer, I heard somebody whispering: "Azriel, what the fuck is going on?". His only response: "I need to go".

Rhys brought me into his study and shut the door. I sunk down into one of the armchairs and waited for him to take a seat. Instead, Rhys leaned against his ornate desk and rubbed his forehead as if in pain. "Y/N", he started after a while, "please, what is going on between him and you?". Pain flared through me at his mention. "Nothing".

Rhys's lips twitched into a smile and then he was laughing. "You have been part of my inner circle for more than 300 years. Azriel, I know even longer. He is like my brother. Don't think I wouldn't notice that there is something terribly wrong". Tears burned in my eyes again. I knew I wouldn't be able to keep this from Rhys. Maybe it was a good thing, being able to confide in someone, I beckoned myself. Things were horrible already. This would merely be the last nail in my already finished coffin the Mother had built me.

"The day after starfall I came into work", I said, a tear sliding down my cheek. Rhys came closer and knealt down in front of me. "And he just… wouldn't talk to me". A sob escaped my lips. Rhys took my hand in his and his face turned into a frown.

"At first - I - he…. I thought he was just busy, but it didn't get any better. It only… only got worse". Tears were now streaming down my face. I could barely see Rhys out of my teary swollen eyes. "We haven't talked in weeks. Months even. At work, he doesn't let me go on any missions and instead makes me do paperwork. We don't train together anymore. We don't spend time anymore. Worst of all, he won't even look at me and I just don't understand what I did wrong". The last sentences were almost inaudible over my sobs. Rhys gently pulled me up by my hands and drew me into a tight hug. My hands clasped around his back and I cried and cried until his shirt was wet and my eyes dry.

"Do you want me to talk to him about this?", he asked softly. But I shook my head no against him. "This is bad enough as is. I don't want Azriel to withdraw even more. I thought we were best friends. But I'm so… alone", I croaked. Best friends. We had been inseperable for so long, I almost didn't remember a time before Azriel. His bedroom was next to mine. We worked together, trained together, ate together, spent our free time together. And now that he was gone, the better part of my life was missing. Tears threatened to well up again, but I surpressed them.

Rhys hummed softly. "What do you think could have caused this?".

I rummaged through my memories, trying to take ahold of the root of all evil. And was catapulted back in time to starfall.

Azriel looked radiant in his dark blue suit, the same color as his siphons. Slow music was playing and we were entwined, dancing to it, as the first souls began their journey across the night sky. My cheeks were flushed from being so close to him and was grateful for the darkness surrounding us. Instances like this one were rare. He almost never let anyone touch him, not like this, at least. "It's so beautiful, isn't it?", I asked him, "But isn't it sad how all souls have to make this journey alone?".

He stopped our movements and looked away from me at the sky, as if for the first time that day. "It is. But I don't know if they are truly alone. Wherever they go, I think they will meet again". Thousands of comets rained from the sky. I smiled at his thought and hugged him a little tighter. I hoped he was right. No matter what came after this life, whatever existence the Cauldron had in store for us, without Azriel it would be meaningless.

"Do you think we will see us again?" Our eyes met. The golden specks in his were glowing in the starlight and my breath hitched at the softness of his gaze. There were a million questions in this simple one. Words that had been stuck in my throat for hundreds of years, that always went unsaid, that I had been choking on for eternity.

"I will find you, no matter where. I promise". My heart skipped a beat.

"I love you, I always have", I wanted to say, but it only came out:"And I will find you". His wings cocooned me in, blocking out the noise and light. When he unfoldet them again slightly, we were standing on a deserted terrace under the stars. "Azriel, I…" His face came closer, our lips almost touching - but there was somebody watching.

"Get. The fuck. Out. Of. My. Head. RHYSAND", I nearly screamed as I wound myself out of his embrace. "We are very good friends and I know you know almost every thought in my head. But this. This is fucking private". Now, I was seething. How could he? My innermost thoughts, my most guarded memories. I wanted to curse the Mother for putting me through this misery.

"I don't know if you noticed, but all of your walls were down. You were practically inviting me in", he reasoned, eyes glinting.

"Again, you can see anything you want. But not this", I repeated. My hands balled into fists at my sides. Thick iron walls fell down around my brain, shutting him out.

"Interesting", he mused, chuckling to himself. "I think you should talk to him. I don't think you need to worry at all".

I was already striding out, planning on fetching Cassian to channel my anger into sparring. "I love you, Rhys, you're like a brother to me. Please keep that in mind when I say go fuck yourself".

A hearty laugh sounded from behind me and a whisper in my mind said: "Soon you will understand"

[bernardsbendystraws]

You Don’t Own Me

P1 P2 P3 P4 P5 P6 P7 P8 P9 P10 P11 P12 P13 P14 P15 P16

Chris Sturniolo lives by his own rules, refusing to be controlled. Some see him as a rebel, a troublemaker—but is that the full truth? Meanwhile, Y/N is focused on making the most of her last year of high school, determined to have a normal teenage experience. But when their worlds collide, they realize they may have more in common than they ever expected.

WARNINGS: sexual tension, teasing

A/N: KARMAS A BITCH I SHOULDA KNOWN BETTER

With love and big tits, Rose

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

P10: Karma

Guilt floods my stomach as I listen to Matt ramble about Mia. They’d gone on another date—alone this time. I still hadn’t talked to Shawn since that day, but I don’t know if I really want to. What is there to even say? 

“-are you even listening?”

My eyes widen from Matt’s question. I nod quickly, pinching my thigh as I try to concentrate. He starts to yap again, his elbows propped on the table as he sits across from me. 

“-and then we went to her place and I got to meet her dog! And her dog even likes me so…” His words ring through my ears, passing through my brain without an actual thought of comprehending what he’s saying. 

It’s hard to focus. Especially when my stomach feels like it’s doing flips. I know Chris will be home any second. It’s been about a couple days since he held me—-when he held me consciously for once. 

And I know some things have changed, I just don’t know if I’m ready for it. 

“Okay—are you good?” Matt asks, crossing his hands together as he leans over the table. He stares up into my eyes. 

I feel my pulse hammer under his analytic gaze, my chest sinking as I swallow the lump in my throat. “Yeah, yeah—I’m…I’m good, sorry.” I mutter, wincing as I hear my toes crack from how hard I’ve been clenching them. 

His eyes narrow, his lips pursing as he tilts his head slightly. “Alright…” he whispers, directing his eyes back towards his computer screen. 

“Are you, uh—do you wanna partner for the final project too?” I ask, biting my tongue as I wait for his response. Matt gives a slight nod, humming in approval. 

We still have a while before it’s due, but partners were supposed to be chosen by Wednesday—-tomorrow. The only other option I really have for a partner is Shawn, and I don't wanna deal with that. This project was a lot of work—which meant that I’d be spending a lot of time with whoever my partner would end up being. 

“Wait—Mia’s calling me!” Matt exclaims. His chair screeches on the floor as he stands up quickly, staring at his phone in his hand with widened eyes. “I’m gonna go take this—-well, is that okay?” he asks. I nod, smiling while I watch him jog towards his room. 

“Hi, Mia! How’re you—” His voice is muffled as I hear his door shut. I tap my fingers on the table, staring around the home. There’s barely any pictures anywhere. Even the frames propped up on the living room coffee table were covered in dust. 

My muscles tense as I hear the front door open and shut. I don’t have to turn around to know who it is, the slight clink of Trevor’s leash paired with familiar steps lets me know it’s him—Chris. 

We haven’t spoken since that day—the day he held me like he really cared—the day he finally said sorry. 

I reach my hand down as I feel paws brush against my leg. Trevor nuzzles into my touch, happily snorting before trotting off to the couch. Looking up, I see Chris staring at me with his hands stuffed into the pocket of his hoodie, his eyes wandering around the area before darting back to me.

“Where’s Matt?” he asks. 

I point down the hall. “His room. Mia called.” I explain. 

Chris nods slowly, his feet starting to walk closer to me. He leans down, pulling Matt’s chair and pulling it directly by me, sitting down and placing his hand on my thigh. The skin beneath his touch erupts with goosebumps, my heart pulsing through my ears as I tense under his warm palm. 

“Relax.” Chris directs. I let out a shaky breath, the heat of his touch callusing around my bare thigh, just above my knee. “I really like this. It’s…pretty.” he mutters, his hand fiddling with the hem of my short skirt. 

Honestly, I didn’t wear skirts often. But I like this one. It has built-in shorts and a bunch of pockets like cargo pants. I didn’t have to worry about the wind making me flash anyone. And—it was really flattering. 

“Thanks.” I mumble, gnawing on my lower lip as I watch his eyes trace up and down my thighs hungrily. 

Chris clears his throat, pulling his hands back into his own lap as he looks up at me. “I…sorry. Got carried away.” 

I shrug, reaching my hand out and pulling his hand back onto my thigh. My fingers squeeze around his, making him grasp onto the skin a little more. It feels…good. Really good. A grin grows on my face as I watch him swallow thickly, licking over his lips as he hesitantly gives my leg another squeeze. 

Oh fuck. 

His hand is in the middle of my thigh, his touch sending waves of warmth up through my body—especially in the pit of my gut. His eyes gleam into mine with intention. I find my hand squeezing harder onto his, my legs tensing as he hesitantly shifts his fingers to dip further inward. 

“You’re…” he trails off, his eyes flickering between our hands before shooting back up to mine. “You’re so soft.” 

My heart is hammering in my chest, my breath hitching in my throat as I inhale shakily. His eyes seem to get hazier, his thumb swiveling against my inner thigh as my back arches slightly off the chair. 

“Chris—”

“Is this okay?” he asks, gently pulling on my thigh. 

Oh. 

Reading into his actions, I nod slowly. My mouth draws open as he grabs my leg, throwing it over his lap. My hands clutch onto the sides of my chair for balance. If the skirt didn’t have built-in shorts, he’d be seeing a lot. But the thought of that didn’t exactly bother me—it made something burn inside of me. 

I want more. His hands on me just feel right—like they belonged there. 

“-I’ll talk to you later, bye.” 

Fuck. My eyes go wide. I quickly pull myself back to sit normally, my actions halted as Chris holds my thigh a little tighter. His touch is possessive, his finger wrapped around my skin like he owns me. 

“Chris—”

“I know, I know.” he huffs, reluctantly letting go before standing up, dragging Matt’s chair back and storming down the hall. I wince as he bumps his shoulder against Matt’s. He disappears down the corridor, Matt looking towards me with confusion as he rubs his shoulder. 

“The fuck is his issue?” he mutters. 

“I don’t know.” I hum, shrugging as Matt sits across from me again. My skin is burning, pulsing as if I’ve been caressed by a static feather. 

Matt bites on his lower lip staring at his phone. He shuts off the device, planting it on the table before staring up at me. “Did he bother you again?” he questions. I shake my head, my stomach churning in knots as Matt squints his eyes at me. 

I feel like he’s staring right through me. Every subtle twitch in his face makes my chest thump with anxiety. 

Can he tell I’m keeping something from him? 

“Okay…let’s just finish this next part…” Matt says, staring back down at his computer as his keyboard clacks repetitively. 

How the fuck am I supposed to focus?

___

Matt and I had finished up a while ago. Once Jimmy came home, I found myself yapping with him on the couch. Well—until he fell asleep. 

My eyes are wide open. I can’t find an ounce of sleep—-not when he’s on my mind. 

Chris. 

His hands on me still lingered with some sort of fluttering sensation in my stomach. It’s something I’ve never felt before. 

The sound of footsteps makes my ears perk. I see his messy hair in front of me as he leans down, grabbing my phone out of my lap. He spares me a quick smile, his eyes gleaming into mine before stalking back down the hallway. 

What the fuck?

Hesitantly, I shift up from the couch. I look over to Jimmy seeing soft snores falling through his lips, Trevor curled up by his feet with his paws propped on the side of the couch. Taking small, quiet steps, I slowly walk down the hallway, seeing Chris leaning against his doorframe. 

With his arms crossed over his chest and a proud smirk, he licks over his lips. My eyes narrow as I look down to his hands, seeing my phone nowhere in sight. “Chris, where’s my—”

“Your phone?” he asks. I nod, watching as he pretends to think, his eyes going squinting as he smirks. “I’m not sure…”

“Is this your way of getting me to come to your room?” I interrogate, watching as he shrugs nonchalantly. 

“I mean, yeah. Pretty much.” he answers, walking into his room without sparing a second look towards me. 

Well. I couldn’t really be mad. It worked. Plus—I kinda wanted him to come and get me. Not because I wanted him, I just liked the way he touched me. Or maybe I was just touched deprived. Or—

“Are you coming in?” he asks. 

Pursing my lips into a straight line, I give a slight nod, walking in and sitting on the edge of his bed. I look around, seeing my phone hooked onto his charger on his nightstand. His room is a little less messy than usual. 

Did he clean for me? 

My heart thumps from the thought, my eyes tracing back to the open door. Matt. This is wrong—something he told me not to do as my friend. He doesn’t want me to get hurt. But I’m just getting my phone. What was so wrong about that? 

Chris sighs, laying on the bed with his back resting on the headboard. “It was almost dead. You’re welcome.” he remarks. I lick over my lips. “Thanks.” I mutter. 

What is he doing?

What’s going on?

Shifting in my spot, I hear him pat the side of the bed next to him. My eyes shift from his hand to his face. Chris nudges his head, clicking his tongue in his mouth. “C’mere.” 

Hesitantly, I crawl up beside him. As I go to lay down, I feel his arm swarm around my waist, pulling me into his lap. Sitting on the top of his thighs, I hover. My heartbeat is pounding in my chest, my fingers clasping onto his shoulders as I try to steady myself. 

His eyes are gleaming into mine, his lips slightly parted as he gives my waist a light squeeze. “You know, Matt really pissed me off earlier. I was havin’ fun…” He leans forward, his breath tickling over my neck as I feel the tip of his nose run along my hammering pulse. “You looked like you were havin’ fun too…”

I feel one of his hands slide up, cradling the back of my neck and tilting my head to the side—creating more space for his hovering lips on the side of my neck just below my ear. My hands grasp tighter onto him, my legs stiffening as I feel my stomach swarm with heat. 

Chris laughs, his hand on my waist drifting down to the top of my thigh. “Already havin’ fun again, huh? You’re so easy to tease—”

“Shut up.” I mutter. 

I try to lift myself off his lap. The familiar possessive hold of his hands stops me, clasping around my hips as he drags me further down on the tops of his thighs. 

“-’m kidding. Geez.” he puffs, leaning back as he crosses an arm behind his head, his other hand lazily resting on the top of my thigh. 

His bottom lip turns white as his teeth clench into the muscle. I watch his eyes glaze over my body sitting on top of him, his lips curling with a proud smile. “You look good like this. In my room, on my lap, all flustered—”

“What the fuck?” 

Shit. 

My body freezes. The sound of Matt’s voice has me bolting off Chris’s lap. This time, Chris doesn’t stop me. I stand up, readjusting my skirt as I look towards the open door, my eyes watering from how wide they’re opened. 

“Matt, I—” 

He huffs, turning on his heel and stomping down the hallway. I wince as I hear a door slam, my skin itching as I feel the guilt crash over me. 

My feet are frozen in place, my face scrunching together as my skin tingles with shame. I can still feel his eyes on me. “I should—I should go.” I mumble, turning around to grab my phone. 

I refuse to look away from my hands as I unplug the device, the thought of his eyes staring back at me making my body cringe. His hand stops mine, his fingers wrapping around the back of my hand as I keep my eyes trained in front of me. “Hey, it’s okay. He’ll get over—”

“You don’t know that.” I spit, yanking my hand back and clutching my phone to my chest. Taking a deep breath, I try to distract myself from the heat rushing to my face, my eyes burning with tears. 

It’s humiliating. I had no self control. The one friend I’ve had in ages is pissed at me and it’s my fault. I hate people being mad at me. It’s so tiring, so draining. 

Not being able to do anything right was something I struggled with. I couldn’t please anyone. Not my mom, not my brother, not even a friend—who was only trying to look out for me. 

“At least let me walk you home, it’s late.” Chris offers, starting to stand up. 

I don’t waste a second before turning around. “No. Just—just no.” I say, rushing out his room before there’s any room for defiance. 

Who cared if something bad happened anyhow? 

I couldn’t do anything right. It was a safer neighborhood too. If a vicious raccoon attacked me, it would probably be karma at this point. 

___

“Partners can pair up now. Choose wisely, you’ll be working together for the rest of the class.” 

My eyes drift to find Matt, but he’s already talking to some other guy.

Fuck. 

“Need a partner?” Shawn asks, his voice echoing from behind me as I scrunch my eyes shut. I feel his hand twist in my hair. Whipping around, I glare at him, sighing as he holds up his hands in defense. 

Is there no one else? 

My eyes drift across the room, my chest feeling heavier and heavier as I see everyone paired up. Matt meets my gaze for a second. I plead with my eyes, biting into my cheek as I see him shake his head, turning his attention back to the guy sitting next to him. 

God fucking dammit. 

“So…” Shawn trails off, tapping his fingers on the desk impatiently. I roll my eyes as I take a deep breath. 

This was definitely karma. 

“Fine. But—I better not be doing all the work.” I say. 

He nods his head, holding his thumb up as he looks towards the digital clock on the wall. “Do you wanna work at my place or yours?” he asks. 

Ugh. I’ve worked at his place before—I hate his house. He had a dad who’s eyes wandered too much for my liking and—I just felt trapped. Just the thought made my anxiety start to make my throat feel tighter. 

“We can…we can work at mine, I guess.” 

My words process through my mind slowly. The thought of him in my room makes me sick, but I also hated the thought of my mom pestering me about him like she has before. 

And Baylen is still home. Although, part of me wondered what break was this long from college. Even though it’s community college and he always brags about it being ‘laid back,’ how could it be this laid back? Maybe he had more online courses. Either way, I’m sick of him. 

Shawn nods, staring at his phone as the class starts to echo with bags being zipped and folders being shoved away. The bell is gonna ring any second. 

“I’ll drive us to yours now? We can get a head start or at least plan shit?” he offers. 

My eyes squint. He’s being productive—helpful, even. Shawn nods knowingly seeing my expression. “I know I’ve been lacking with other projects and I’m sorry. Just…god, being partners with you is a lot easier than that other girl.” He nudges his head towards his last partner, the one he was forced to pair up with after I said no the last time. 

I think her name was Jessica, but honestly? I didn’t know—-or care. She was a bitch. The girl had no awareness of anything around her. She filmed doing her makeup in class like it was cool, flirting with the teachers or brushing them off whenever they called her out. She wasn’t confident, she was just cocky. She knew she was rich enough to never face any real consequences. 

“Alr—”

My words are cut off by the bell. I flinch as I feel bodies rush past me, a shove from behind me pushing me into Shawn. 

“C’mon, let’s go.” he says, holding onto my wrist tightly as he drags me through the chaos. 

The amount of bodies bumping against me makes me feel like bricks are piling on top of my chest, strands of my hair being yanked through the condensed crowd. 

As soon as we make it out of the building, I try to yank my wrist back, hissing as his grip gets tighter. Shawn laughs, dropping my hand as he takes long strides through the parking lot. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to. Just makin’ sure I didn’t lose ya.” he jokes. 

My lips stay pursed together in a tight line. His tone only makes my eyes twitch, my hand rubbing over my sore wrist as I try to keep up with him. 

Karma’s a bitch. 

[eccentricwritingbaby]

please please please

lando norris x famous!reader

summary - with lando’s past track record of women, you get nervous entering this new relationship. it leads you to do the only thing you know how - write a song. based on please please please by sabrina carpenter. 

masterlist

-

I know I have good judgment, I know I have good taste

It's funny and it's ironic that only I feel that way

I promise 'em that you're different and everyone makes mistakes

But just don't

-

“hey baby,” lando greets you as he enters the hotel room, striding in with a kiss to your forehead while giving you a slight hug as he moves towards the bathroom. 

“hi, love,” you response from your place on the bed, “how was media day?”

“eh, boring,” lando shrugs as he begins to gather his things for the shower, “but some of the guys and i are going to go out later, you’re coming right?”

“yeah, i’ll come,” you nod with your response, “are you going to be so drunk i have to carry you home again?” laughing through your question, lando just shakes his head at you as he readies the shower. 

“no no,” he keeps chuckling, “paparazzi will probably be there and my pr team will freak if they get that story again,”

“yeah, well now you have my pr team to worry about too,” you giggle towards him, “and if you’re surrounded by girls and getting hammered-”

“i know, love,” lando heads over to your place on the bed in order to give you a reassuring kiss, “i won’t embarrass you, i love you too much,”

you chase his lips again to receive another kiss before patting his cheek lightly, “please don’t, i know your history,” you warn him with a little laugh. 

“yeah, yeah,” he hops off the bed with an eye roll and a playful shove to you, “you know i wouldn’t do that to you,”

“i know, lan, i know,”

-

All I'm asking, baby

Please, please, please

Don't prove I'm right

-

“i just get nervous i guess,” you speak into the phone to your friend, emma, “i mean last night we went out and he was hammered and a bunch of girls were on him after he promised-”

“y/n, y/n, slow down,” she attempts to calm you, “he’s a twenty-four year old millionaire, he’s gonna party you have to get that,” you sigh in realization that she’s right as she continues, “he didn’t and wouldn’t cheat on you, he loves you,”

“i know,” you sigh again.

“where is he now? you should probably talk about this with him,”

“he’s at the track, it’s race day,”

“well then do what you do best,”

“leave him?” you ask with a laugh, thinking about your own track record of ditching relationships when you get scared.

“no,” emma giggles through the phone, “write a song, y/n,”

“oh right,” the giggles escalate between you and your friend right as lando walks through the hotel door, “i gotta go, em, lando just got here,”

“alright, don’t leave him, y/n. he’s good for you, you’ve just got trust issues, and remember that you’re also a twenty-four year old millionaire, you can have fun too,”

“shut up,” you laugh again, hanging up the phone and heading towards your boyfriend, “what are you doing here?” 

“are you not happy to see me, baby?” lando asks as he waltzes towards you, hands landing on your waist to pull you into a kiss.

“mm,” you hum in approval, “always happy to see you, lan,”

“good,” he giggles, separating from you and jogging a bit towards his suitcase, “i forgot this team gear thing i have to wear today, so i had to run back really quick,”

“ah okay,” you nod in understanding.

“are you coming soon?” he asks as he grabs the shirt he was looking for, moving to the door to leave. 

“yes, baby, i’m going to head down in about an hour,”

“okay, i’ll see you there,” he reaches out for a kiss before he leaves as you blush behind him once the door shuts. you can’t help but notice the way he makes you feel, understanding that your nervousness had no real reason to be there. you both were young and successful, and reaping the benefits of that shouldn’t be so bad in the public eye. 

so you take emma’s advice and get out your notepad in order to hopefully release your stress. 

-

Heartbreak is one thing, my ego's another

I beg you, don't embarrass me, motherfucker, oh

Please, please, please 

-

it was three weeks later when you arrived home to your apartment after another studio session. your song had taken about two weeks to write, quickly written due to the words being on a constant replay in your head. all you could think was ‘please please please’ therefore the song almost wrote itself. now with a week of recording under your belt, the song was taking off with your production team. they loved it. and so did you. it was determined to be the main single on your album release which was approaching fast. 

“hey, lan, i didn’t think you’d get here until later,” you say to your boyfriend as you lock up the door behind you. 

“i flew with some of the guys on a private flight, so we landed early,” he explains while getting up and walking to meet you at the door for a kiss, “how was the studio?”

“it was good,” you breathe out, beginning to take off your shoes and toss your bag onto the couch, then going to the kitchen to try and find some food, “i have a few more sessions before the single is ready, and then the album should be finished,”

“that’s nice,” lando replies, stealing a few grapes from the bowl of fruit you grabbed, “can i come with tomorrow?”

“what?” you choke out, not prepared for his question. lando had accompanied you a few times to recording sessions, he seemed to really enjoy them. however, he had never watched you record a song about him, especially one that may be taken the wrong way.

“can i come with you tomorrow?” he asks you a bit slower, attempting to read your facial expression, “to your recording session?”

“oh, um,” you stumble out, “i thought you had to be in the sim?”

“no, that’s in two days, tomorrow i’m free,” he looks you up and down with confusion before continuing, “what’s going on?”

“i’m sorry, lan,” you sigh, pushing the fruit in your bowl around a bit as a distraction, “the song i’ve been recording, well, it’s…” you slow your speech in an attempt to find the right words.

“what?” he pushes, confused on what could be so bad.

“it’s about you, okay?” you finally get out, “and it’s not really a love song,”

“then what is it?” lando asks and you finally take a look at him, but you aren’t able to read his face. 

“you’ll hear it tomorrow,”

“no, y/n, what is it?” he demands, pushing forward on the counter in order to get closer to you. 

“it’s just-”

“a breakup song?”

“no! no,” you exclaim, still trying to read his face, “it’s kind of a ‘please don’t make me break up with you’ song,” you let out the last part quietly, now looking back down at your fruit again.

“is this about the other night? at the club? or the weekend before?”

“i mean kind of all of it,” you shrug off honestly, “you’ll hear it tomorrow,”

“fine,” he answers, quiet and solemn, “i’m sorry, y/n,”

“why are you sorry?” you ask, finally looking up at him again.

“you clearly don’t trust me, and i know i have a history, i get it, i really do, but-”

“but what?” you cut him off, relieved that he finally may be understanding your point of view, “lando i know we’re young and rich and we can go out and have fun-”

“y/n-” lando attempts to butt in, however you keep going.

“no, lando, let me finish. i know that we are young and stupid but that is us as individuals. i don’t want to have to keep going on fucking podcasts or talk shows where i have to explain why my boyfriend is acting single! it’s one thing to have fun, it’s another to embarrass the shit out of me,” you huff out your feelings, and finally the weight on your chest seemingly disappears. 

“i’m sorry, y/n," he sighs out, running a hand down his face, "i guess i’m just used to not dating other famous people and forgot that it can impact your career too, i’m used to it only affecting mine,” lando begins to move towards you, his hands finding their home on your waist. 

“it’s fine, like i said, i understand,” you breathe into his chest as you hug him, “i just needed to relieve that stress, and writing does that for me,”

“i get it,” he replies, his left hand coming to rub your back, soothing you further into his arms, “i love you, y/n,”

“i love you too, lando,”

-

If you wanna go and be stupid

Don't do it in front of me

If you don't wanna cry to my music

Don't make me hate you prolifically

-

it was finally your album release party a few months later. lando, along with his family and friends were there as well as your whole team and your friends and family. your fresh single had broken records and skyrocketed with presales for your album which would be fully released at midnight. to say you were on a high was an understatement. as you sat next to lando in your finest dress, he squeezed your hand a few times, bringing you back down to earth. 

“are you alright?” he nudges you quietly, distracting you from your upcoming speech. 

“i sing in front of stadiums, lan,” you chuckle, “i think a speech won’t kill me,” you whisper back to him.

“i know,” he laughs, “just making sure,”

“thank you, love,” you kiss his cheek just as your manager pulls you away from him and near the stage. your producer was giving a speech before you, and he was just about to introduce you for yours. 

“and now, the lady you’ve been waiting for all evening, y/n y/l/n!” he cries out, the venue erupting in cheers of encouragement as you waltz across the stage to the mic. giving your producer a light hug and a kiss on each cheek, you stop in front of the microphone and clear your throat to begin. 

“i just want to say, first off, thank you to everyone who came tonight. i’m absolutely sure it wasn’t because of the free alcohol and food provided,” you chuckle with the rest of the crowd at your brief joke before continuing.

“as always, being able to even make an album and live out my dream is a blessing, so thank you to everyone who always makes that possible. that would easily be my manager, my production team, and my fans, you guys are the best and i wouldn’t be here without you,”

you pause again briefly for the crowd to cheer in acknowledgment and proceed, “my family and friends, you all never stopped believing in me and there is no way i would be on this stage right now if it weren’t for your support,” one more pause and a deep breath before you begin again. 

“and finally, lando,” your teary eyes meet his as you spot max fewtrell giving him a few playful jabs to the shoulder.

“you are and will forever be my muse, my light, my inspiration, and my heart. thank you, for your patience, for your love, and for trusting me with your heart,” you begin to choke up, leading you to swallow your tears as the crowd begins to ‘awe’, “i love you, lan. this album wouldn’t be possible without you, and i wouldn’t be the woman i am today without you by my side. thank you,” you finish off, blowing a kiss in his direction as he quickly wipes a tear from his eye. he wouldn’t embarrass you, he wouldn’t even think about risking the joy you bring him everyday. 

-

Please, please, please (Please)

Please, please, please (Please)

Please (Please), please (Please), please

[elryuse]

Miss Me Pt.2

Yandere Wonyoung X Male Reader

Tags : Yandere, Obsession, Posessive, Kissing, Edging, Creampies, Biting, Seduction, Marking, Non Consensual Sex (Reverse Rape) Words : 5,428 Words

A Continuation of Miss Me. A Commision By My Friend @Pizza_anon From Ko-fi. I Hoped You Liked it, Enjoy.

For a while, you thought you had finally escaped her.

Wonyoung was nothing more than a ghost in your past, a name you refused to utter, a memory you buried so deep it almost felt like she had never existed.

After that ill-fated date—after seeing her again across that dimly lit restaurant—you ran. Not just from her, but from everything. From the lingering pain, the suffocating paranoia, the scars she left on your body and mind.

You changed everything. Your name, your address, your entire life.

A quiet town far removed from everything you once knew became your sanctuary. Here, no one whispered rumors about her, no one looked at you with pity, no one asked about the girl who used to own you.

At last, you had peace.

Or so you thought.

The Devil Returns It had been a simple errand—just a quick trip to the store.

You carried the grocery bags up the steps of your home, the late afternoon sun casting golden hues against the walls. You exhaled slowly, reveling in the quiet, the stillness that you had fought so hard to find.

But the moment you stepped inside, something felt off.

The air was wrong.

Cold. Unsettling.

And then, you saw it.

Your window—open. The curtains swayed gently, the breeze chilling your skin.

Your heart hammered against your ribcage, and a sinking feeling settled in your gut. You set the groceries down, every nerve in your body screaming at you to turn around and run.

But then, you heard it.

The soft clink of a wine glass being placed on the table.

You turned your head slowly—

And there she was.

Wonyoung.

Sitting at your dinner table, legs elegantly crossed, a glass of red wine in her delicate fingers.

She looked the same, yet somehow different.

Her long dark hair cascaded over her shoulder in effortless waves. The dim lighting of your home cast shadows across her perfect face, making her look almost ethereal.

She swirled the wine in her glass, her crimson lips curving into a wicked smile.

Then, she spoke.

"Miss me?"

Your blood turned to ice.

A year.

A whole fucking year of running, of rebuilding your life, and yet, here she was.

As if she had never left.

As if she had always known where you were.

And at that moment, as the weight of her presence suffocated you, something inside of you snapped.

If Wonyoung could never leave you alone in this world—

Then maybe it was time to fight back.

Your footsteps echoed against the dimly lit pavement, your breath coming out in ragged gasps as you moved through the empty streets.

Run. Just keep running.

The cold night air bit at your skin, but it was nothing compared to the chill that clawed at your spine—the phantom touch of a past that refused to die.

Wonyoung.

Her voice still clung to your ears, Miss me? slithering into your mind like a poison you couldn’t purge.

That date…

That fucking date.

It had never left you.

Not even for a second.

You thought you had been healing. Thought you had finally clawed your way out of the abyss she had thrown you into. But the second you saw her again—

The second you heard her voice—

It all came flooding back.

The pain. The betrayal. The torment she put you through.

It wasn’t just the physical scars she left behind. No, those were the least of your worries.

It was what she did to your mind.

How she twisted every thought, every emotion, until you doubted your own sanity.

How she made you feel like you were the problem.

How she smiled at you in one moment and tore you apart in the next.

It hurt.

It fucking hurt.

And as you ran through the dark, your heart pounding in your ears, you realized something.

You weren’t running from her.

You were running from yourself.

Because deep down, in the darkest part of your soul—

You were terrified that you would never escape her.

That no matter how far you went, no matter how hard you tried—

She would always find you.

And worse than that…

Some twisted part of you feared that when she did—

You wouldn’t have the strength to push her away.

The door clicked shut behind you as you stepped into your apartment, locking it instinctively. The dim glow of the streetlights filtered through the curtains, casting long shadows across the room. Everything was silent—too silent.

You exhaled slowly, running a hand through your hair as exhaustion weighed down on you.

Tired.

You were so fucking tired.

Tired of running.

Tired of looking over your shoulder.

Tired of feeling like no matter how far you went, she would always be there.

You leaned against the door, your fingers gripping the doorknob as you tried to steady yourself. But your mind wouldn't let you rest.

The memories clawed their way to the surface.

That night.

The way she had looked at you from across the table, her lips curling into that knowing smirk.

The way her voice dripped with honeyed venom as she whispered your name, making you feel like you were still hers.

And the way she—

Your breath hitched, and you squeezed your eyes shut, forcing the images away.

No.

You had to move forward. You had to get away from her.

But how could you escape something that had already sunk its claws so deep into your soul?

You forced yourself to move, stepping further into the apartment.

Everything was as you left it. The couch, slightly disheveled from where you had sat the night before. The coffee table, still littered with an unfinished book and a cold cup of tea. The faint hum of the refrigerator in the background.

It was supposed to be your space.

Your safe haven.

And yet, it never felt like it.

Not when the ghosts of your past lingered in every shadow, in every breath you took.

You dragged yourself to the kitchen, pouring yourself a glass of water with shaky hands. The cool liquid did nothing to settle the unease churning in your stomach.

As you set the glass down, you caught your reflection in the dark window.

The tired eyes. The weight of years of torment etched into your expression.

You wanted to fight back.

You really did.

But how could you fight against something that had already consumed you?

Because even now, even after everything she had done to you—

Some sick, twisted part of you still felt like you belonged to her.

And that terrified you more than anything.

The water in the pot bubbled furiously, steam rising in thick clouds as you dropped the instant ramen noodles into the boiling liquid. The scent of artificial broth filled the small apartment, a pathetic attempt at comfort after a night like this.

You sighed, rubbing your temples as you leaned against the counter. The exhaustion clung to you like a second skin. The weight of it bore down on your shoulders, suffocating and relentless.

How long do I have to keep living like this?

The sound of chopsticks clinking against the bowl filled the silence, but it did little to drown out the whirlwind of thoughts in your mind.

Wonyoung.

No matter how much you ran, no matter how many times you told yourself you were free—

She always found a way back in.

Your grip on the countertop tightened.

You needed to be stronger.

You needed to fight back.

But just as that thought formed, a sound pierced the silence.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Your body froze.

It was late. Too late for anyone to be visiting.

And yet, the knocking came again. Slow, deliberate, taunting.

Your breath hitched. A cold shiver ran down your spine as you forced yourself to move toward the door, each step heavier than the last.

You already knew.

Somewhere deep inside, you already fucking knew.

But the moment you twisted the doorknob and pulled the door open—

Your entire body shattered.

Because there she was.

The door creaked softly as Wonyoung stepped inside, her presence filling the small space like a storm cloud ready to burst. Her eyes locked onto yours, unrelenting, as if daring you to look away. You couldn’t. Your body was rooted to the spot, your mind screaming at you to do something—anything—but your limbs refused to obey.

She closed the door behind her with a soft click, the sound echoing in the silence like a death knell. Her perfume—that same floral, intoxicating scent that still haunted your dreams—washed over you, sickeningly sweet and suffocating.

“You didn’t answer,” she said, her voice low and velvety, yet laced with a dangerous edge. She stepped closer, her heels clicking against the floor in a rhythm that felt like a countdown to something inevitable. “Do you miss me?”

You opened your mouth to speak, to tell her to leave, to scream, to do anything but the words caught in your throat. All that came out was a strangled sound, barely audible. Her smirk widened, and she took another step forward, closing the distance between you until you could feel the heat radiating from her body.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” she purred, her voice dripping with amusement. Her hand reached up, fingers brushing lightly against your cheek. The touch was soft, almost tender, but it sent a shiver down your spine. “You look tired. Have you been thinking about me?”

You wanted to pull away, to slap her hand aside, to tell her to stop. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. Her touch was like a drug, and despite everything, some part of you craved it. The realization made you sick to your stomach.

She leaned in closer, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispered, “I’ve missed you. More than you know.” Her breath was warm against your skin, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. “You belong to me. You always have.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, but before you could react, her hands were on you, gripping your shoulders tightly as she pushed you back. You stumbled, your legs giving out as she forced you down onto the bed. She climbed on top of you in one fluid motion, her dress riding up her thighs as she straddled your hips.

“Wonyoung—” you started, but she cut you off with a harsh groan at the back of her throat.

“Don’t,” she hissed, her eyes blazing with a fire that made your blood run cold. “Don’t pretend you don’t want this. Don’t pretend you don’t want me.”

Her hands moved quickly, undoing your pants with practiced ease. You tried to protest, to push her away, but she caught your wrists in one hand, pinning them above your head with a strength that left you breathless.

“You’re mine,” she growled, her voice low and filled with a possessiveness that sent a shudder through you. “You’ve always been mine. And you always will be.”

Her other hand dipped between your legs, fingers brushing against the fabric of your boxers, and you couldn’t suppress the involuntary gasp that escaped your lips. She smirked, her eyes boring into yours as she leaned down, her lips brushing against your neck.

“That’s it,” she whispered, her voice soft but commanding. “Just let go. Let me take care of you.”

Her lips moved lower, teeth grazing against the sensitive skin of your neck as she bit down lightly, drawing a sharp gasp from you. Her hand slipped inside your boxers, fingers wrapping around your length, already hard despite the chaos raging in your mind.

“Wonyoung—” you tried again, but she cut you off with a harsh moan.

“Shut up,” she hissed, her grip tightening as she began to stroke you slowly, her fingers moving with a practiced precision that left you trembling. “You don’t get to talk. You don’t get to think. You just get to feel.”

She leaned back slightly, her eyes never leaving yours as she positioned herself over you. Her free hand lifted the hem of her dress, revealing the lace of her panties. She pulled them to the side, her breath hitching as she lowered herself onto you, taking you in one smooth motion.

You groaned, your head falling back against the pillow as she began to move, her hips rolling against yours in a rhythm that was both familiar and devastating. Her hands found your chest, nails digging into your skin as she leaned forward, her breath hot against your ear.

“That’s it,” she whispered, her voice trembling slightly with exertion. “Just like that. Just like old times.”

Her pace quickened, her movements becoming more urgent as she rode you with a ferocity that left you breathless. Her nails dragged across your chest, leaving red marks in their wake, and she bit down on your neck again, harder this time, drawing a sharp cry from you.

“Say it,” she demanded, her voice harsh and commanding. “Say you’re mine.”

You shook your head, your body betraying you as you arched into her, your hips meeting hers with a force that made her gasp.

“Say it!” she snarled, her nails digging into your skin as she leaned back, her eyes blazing with a wild, almost feral intensity.

You couldn’t fight it anymore. The words spilled from your lips, unbidden, trembling with a mixture of shame and need.

“I’m yours,” you choked out, your voice barely audible over the sound of your ragged breathing.

She smiled, a cruel, victorious smile that sent a chill down your spine. “That’s right,” she purred, her voice thick with satisfaction. “You’re mine. And you always will be.”

Her pace slowed, but her movements became more deliberate, more intense. She leaned down, her lips brushing against yours as she whispered, “Now come for me.”

The command was all it took. Your body tensed, a wave of pleasure crashing over you as you gave in, completely and utterly. She followed soon after, her body shuddering against yours as she buried her face in your neck, her breathing ragged and uneven.

For a moment, there was silence, save for the sound of your labored breathing. Then, she lifted her head, her eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made your stomach churn.

“Don’t forget,” she whispered, her voice low and dangerous. “You’re mine. And I’m not letting you go. Not ever again.”

The silk scarves slid around your wrists with a soft, almost imperceptible hiss, their texture cool against your skin. Wonyoung’s hands worked with practiced ease, tying intricate knots that were tight enough to hold you in place but not so tight that they hurt. Her movements were deliberate, her fingers brushing against your skin in a way that sent shivers down your spine. You wanted to pull away, to resist, but the look in her eyes—sharp, predatory, and utterly in control—made it impossible to move.

“There,” she murmured, her voice low and sultry as she finished the last knot. “Now you can’t run away. Not that you ever could, really.”

Her lips curved into a smile, one that was both alluring and dangerous. She leaned in, her breath warm against your ear as she whispered, “But I think you like it when I take control, don’t you? Admit it.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but before you could say a word, her lips were on yours, silencing you with a kiss that was both demanding and sweet. Her tongue teased the seam of your lips, and when you finally relented, letting her in, she deepened the kiss with a moan that sent heat straight to your core. Her hands roamed over your chest, her nails scraping lightly against your skin as she explored every inch of you.

When she finally pulled away, her eyes were dark with desire, her lips swollen from the intensity of the kiss. She didn’t say a word as she slowly, deliberately, began to trace your body with her tongue. Her lips pressed against your neck, trailing soft, open-mouthed kisses down to your collarbone. Her tongue flicked out, tasting your skin, and you couldn’t suppress the involuntary shiver that ran through you.

“You taste so good,” she murmured against your skin, her voice low and husky. “I’ve missed this. Missed you.”

She continued her slow descent, her tongue laving over your chest, her lips brushing against your nipples in a way that made you shudder. Her hands were everywhere, touching, teasing, exploring every inch of you as she worked her way down your body. When she finally reached your hips, she paused, her fingers curling around the waistband of your pants.

“Do you want me to stop?” she asked, her voice a whisper as she looked up at you, her eyes dark with desire.

You should have said yes. You knew you should have said yes. But the way she looked at you, the way her lips curved into that familiar, predatory smile, made it impossible to say anything but, “No.”

Her smile widened, and without another word, she pulled your pants down, freeing your already hard cock. Her eyes darkened with desire as she took you in her hand, her fingers wrapping around you in a firm grip. Her thumb brushed over the tip, spreading the precum that had already gathered there, and you couldn’t suppress the moan that escaped your lips.

“You’re so ready for me,” she murmured, her voice low and sultry as she stroked you slowly, her eyes never leaving yours. “And I’m going to make you feel so good.”

Before you could respond, she was on top of you, her body pressing against yours as she positioned herself over you. Her hips moved slowly, deliberately, as she lowered herself onto you, taking you in inch by inch. The feeling of her warmth enveloping you was almost too much to bear, and you couldn’t suppress the groan that escaped your lips.

“That’s it,” she murmured, her voice low and husky as she began to move, her hips rocking against yours in a slow, deliberate rhythm. “Let go. Just feel me.”

Her movements were slow at first, almost teasing, as she adjusted to the feel of you inside her. But as her pace quickened, her hips began to move in a way that drove you wild. She moaned your name, her voice low and sultry, as her hips rocked against yours, each movement sending waves of pleasure crashing over you.

“You feel so good inside me,” she murmured, her voice low and husky as she leaned down, her lips brushing against yours. “I’ve missed this. Missed you.”

Her words sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn’t suppress the moan that escaped your lips. You wanted to resist, to push her away, but the pleasure she was giving you was too much to ignore. Her hips moved in a way that drove you wild, each movement sending waves of pleasure crashing over you.

“Come for me,” she whispered, her voice low and sultry as her hips moved against yours in a way that drove you wild. “I want to feel you come inside me.”

Her words sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn’t suppress the moan that escaped your lips. You wanted to resist, to push her away, but the pleasure she was giving you was too much to ignore. Her hips moved in a way that drove you wild, each movement sending waves of pleasure crashing over you.

“Do it,” she commanded, her voice low and dangerous as her hips moved against yours in a way that drove you wild. “Come for me.”

The command was all it took. Your body tensed, a wave of pleasure crashing over you as you gave in completely and utterly. She followed soon after, her body shuddering against yours as she buried her face in your neck, her breathing ragged and uneven.

For a moment, there was silence, save for the sound of your labored breathing. Then, she lifted her head, her eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made your stomach churn.

“Don’t forget,” she whispered, her voice low and dangerous. “You’re mine. And I’m not letting you go. Not ever again.”

Her words sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn’t suppress the moan that escaped your lips. You wanted to resist, to push her away, but the pleasure she was giving you was too much to ignore. Her hips moved in a way that drove you wild, each movement sending waves of pleasure crashing over you.

“Do it,” she commanded, her voice low and dangerous as her hips moved against yours in a way that drove you wild. “Come for me.”

The room felt suffocating, her perfume still clinging to the air like a ghost of the past. Wonyoung’s eyes bore into you, her lips curling into that same predatory smile that once sent shivers down your spine. But this time, the shivers felt different—less of fear, more of disgust.

”I’ve thought about it,” she began, her voice smooth and deliberate, like honey laced with poison. ”And I’ve decided. I’m ready. Ready to make you my husband.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and absurd. You blinked, your mind struggling to process what she had just said. Her husband? After everything she had done? After the lies, the manipulation, the infidelity? Your chest tightened, a wave of anger rising inside you like a tempest.

”You’re out of your damn mind,” you said, your voice low but firm.

Her smile faltered for a moment, but she quickly recovered, tilting her head as if she were amused by your defiance. ”Oh, come on. You know this is what we’ve both wanted. We’re meant to be together.”

”No,” you snapped, your voice rising. ”We’re not. You destroyed whatever we had. You cheated on me, manipulated me, hurt me. And now you think you can just waltz back into my life and decide to marry me? Who the hell do you think you are?”

She stepped closer, her heels clicking against the floor with that same confidence that had always made her seem untouchable. But this time, you weren’t falling for it. You stood your ground, your fists clenched at your sides.

”I’m the one who knows you better than anyone,” she said, her voice soft but laced with a dangerous edge. ”The one who can give you everything you’ve ever wanted. You’ll never find anyone else who understands you like I do.”

”You don’t understand me,” you shot back. ”You never did. You just wanted to control me, to own me. And I’m done with that. I’m done with you.”

Her smile faded completely now, replaced by a look of genuine confusion. She stepped closer, her hand reaching out to touch your arm, but you jerked away. Her touch felt like fire, but not the kind you wanted.

”What are you saying?” she asked, her voice wavering for the first time. ”You can’t just leave me. Not after everything we’ve been through.”

”I’m not leaving you,” you said, your voice cold. ”I already left you. Three years ago. And I’m not going back.”

Her eyes widened, and for a moment, she looked almost… vulnerable. But it was fleeting, quickly replaced by that familiar intensity. She dropped to her knees, her hands clutching at your pants as she looked up at you with pleading eyes.

”Please,” she begged, her voice cracking. ”Just forgive me. I can change. I’ll be better. I’ll do anything. But I can’t lose you. You’re the only one who’s ever really mattered to me.”

Her words should have softened you, but they didn’t. Instead, they made you angrier. How dare she? How dare she act like she cared, like she loved you, when all she ever did was hurt you?

”You don’t love me,” you said, your voice steady despite the storm raging inside you. ”You just love the idea of owning me. But I’m not yours anymore. I’ll never be yours again.”

Her grip tightened on your pants, her nails digging into the fabric. Tears welled up in her eyes, but they didn’t make her any less dangerous. ”You don’t mean that,” she whispered. ”You’ll come back to me. You’ll see. There’s no one else out there who would want you. No one who would love you like I do.”

Her words cut deep, but they didn’t break you. Not this time. You looked down at her, your jaw clenched, and shook your head.

”You’re wrong,” you said, your voice quiet but filled with resolve. ”I deserve better than you. And I’m going to find it. But first, you need to get out of my life. For good.”

She stared up at you, her eyes wide with disbelief. For a moment, she looked like she might argue, might try to manipulate you again. But then, slowly, she let go of your pants and stood up. She took a step back, her shoulders slumping as if the weight of your words had finally crushed her.

”You’ll regret this,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. ”You’ll see. You’ll come crawling back to me.”

”I won’t,” you said, your voice firm. ”Now get out.”

She hesitated for a moment, her eyes searching yours for any sign of weakness. But there was none. You stood tall, unyielding, and for the first time, you were in control.

Finally, she turned and walked away, her heels clicking against the floor with a rhythm that felt oddly final. You watched her go, your heart pounding in your chest, but you didn’t stop her. Not this time.

As the door closed behind her, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. The room felt lighter, the air easier to breathe. You sank into a chair, your hands trembling, but your mind was clear.

You had made the right choice. You were free.

But as you sat there, a part of you couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t over. That Wonyoung wasn’t the type to just walk away. She would be back.

And when she did, you’d be ready.

The air outside felt different now. Lighter. As if the weight you had carried for so long had finally begun to lift. It had been weeks since Wonyoung walked out of your apartment that night, and though the scars of the past still lingered, you were finally taking control of your life again.

You started working again, finding solace in the routine. The office buzzed with life, a world filled with people who didn’t know your past, who didn’t see you as the shattered person Wonyoung had left behind. It was refreshing. For the first time in years, you weren’t looking over your shoulder.

More than that, you were getting out more often—grabbing drinks with coworkers, going to the gym, even walking through the city without the constant paranoia that she was lurking in the shadows.

And, for once, you were enjoying life again.

But the past had a cruel way of finding you, even when you least expected it.

It started small.

An odd feeling. A fleeting sensation of being watched.

The first time it happened, you were leaving work late at night. The office building cast long shadows under the flickering streetlights as you stepped out onto the pavement. You had been scrolling through your phone, replying to a message from a friend who had invited you out for drinks.

And then—

That prickle at the back of your neck.

That familiar, sinking weight in your gut.

You turned, scanning the sidewalk, the alley across the street.

Nothing.

You shook your head, forcing a chuckle. Don’t be ridiculous. She’s gone.

But the feeling didn’t go away.

Days passed, and the unease only grew. You would notice the same car parked across from your apartment complex too many nights in a row. Or a familiar scent—her scent—lingering in the air when you entered your favorite café.

Still, you brushed it off. It had to be paranoia. After all, she had left.

Hadn’t she?

A Message From the Past Then, one evening, after a long day at work, your phone vibrated with a notification.

You barely glanced at it as you tossed your bag onto the couch, but something about it made you pause.

An unknown number.

"Thinking about you."

Your breath caught in your throat.

It couldn’t be.

You hesitated before opening the message fully, hoping—praying—it was some mistake. A wrong number. A coincidence.

But as soon as you opened the text, a second message came through.

"Did you miss me?"

A chill ran down your spine.

You swallowed hard, your fingers tightening around your phone.

No.

No, no, no—

Your heartbeat pounded in your ears as you stared at the screen, the words burning into your mind like a scar reopening.

It had to be her.

It was always her.

You exhaled sharply, forcing yourself to stay calm. You wouldn’t let her shake you again.

You deleted the message without responding.

You blocked the number.

And then, gripping your phone like it was the last lifeline to reality, you told yourself—

It’s over. She can’t hurt me anymore.

But deep down, you knew—

Wonyoung wasn’t done with you yet.

The next time you saw her, something inside you snapped.

It was late—too late for visitors—when the knock came at your door. At first, you ignored it, pretending not to hear, pretending you weren’t home. But the knocking persisted, slow and deliberate, like a predator toying with its prey.

Then, that voice.

"Miss me?"

The words sent a wave of exhaustion through you, but this time, there was no fear. No hesitation.

Just rage.

You swung the door open, and there she stood—Jang Wonyoung, draped in another black gown, her lips curled into that sickeningly sweet smile. Her beauty, once mesmerizing, now felt suffocating. Poisonous.

"You," you muttered, your voice low, heavy with something even you didn’t recognize.

She took a step forward, her hand reaching for you, but you didn’t let her.

For the first time, you didn’t freeze. You didn’t cower. You didn’t let her dictate how this night would go.

Your hand moved before you could think.

SMACK!

The sound echoed through the hallway, ringing in your ears.

Wonyoung staggered back, her head snapping to the side as her cheek turned a deep, angry red.

She didn’t speak.

For the first time, she was speechless.

Your chest heaved with heavy breaths as you clenched your fists, watching her carefully. If she expected you to regret it, she was dead wrong.

"I’ve had enough," you said, your voice raw, unshaken.

She blinked, slow and disbelieving, before her lips twitched into something that wasn’t quite a smile.

"You hit me," she murmured, as if testing out the words.

"Yeah. I did."

A quiet chuckle escaped her lips, but there was no amusement in it. She straightened, her fingers brushing the stinging mark on her cheek.

"Finally growing a spine?" she asked, tilting her head. "Took you long enough."

Your jaw tightened. "What the hell do you want, Wonyoung?"

She stared at you, eyes dark and unreadable. "You know what I want."

"No. I really don’t." You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. "I don’t want you. I don’t want whatever this is. I just want to be free."

Her expression flickered, just for a second, and for the first time, you saw something you weren’t sure you’d ever seen before.

Hurt.

But you didn’t care.

Not anymore.

"You don’t mean that," she whispered, but there was no confidence in her voice this time.

"I do." You stepped back, gripping the edge of the door. "I don’t care what you do anymore. Go ruin someone else’s life. I’m done being your plaything."

She didn’t move.

For a moment, she just stood there, staring at you, searching for something in your face.

Then, slowly, she straightened her posture, regaining that cold, unreadable mask.

"Fine," she said at last, voice detached, distant. "If that’s what you really want."

You nodded. "It is."

A pause.

Then, she turned on her heel, walking away without another word.

You stood frozen, listening to the click of her heels against the floor until the sound faded into silence.

And just like that—

She was gone.

You shut the door and locked it, leaning against the wood as a shaky breath escaped your lips.

For the first time in what felt like forever—

You were free.

[sunflowerwinds]

take care | s.a

summary: you get absolutely hammered at a party with your bestfriend, caitlyn, and you call your girlfriend to the rescue when your exhaustion hits you out of nowhere. sevika takes care of your intoxicated state and the groggy morning after.

pairing: fem!reader x sevika arcane

contains: slight modern!au (they use cell phones), established relationship, alcohol consumption, cait & mel being BAD BITCHES, fluff, mentions of suggestive content, sevika being so attentive and patient <3

word count: 2.9K

a/n: absolutely self-indulgent, i wrote this the day after recovering from a hangover LMAO <3 i hope you all enjoy!!

You truthfully couldn’t remember the last time you had gotten as drunk as you were at this very moment. A friend of your best friend's had invited you two out to this warehouse party-club situation. You were hesitant at first, not knowing if you had that in you but the second you arrived at the apartment of the friend, who you found out was named Mel, and they were pregaming with Fireball and Malibu shots, you knew you were incredibly fucked.

You had a great time, granted.

Your best friend, Caitlyn, Mel, and you made new friends amid the crowd. The girls were so lovely, throwing compliments on hair, makeup, and outfits back and forth.

Before you knew it you had made your way onto the stage with the DJ, telling him to play a certain selection of songs. He even lets you queue them up on his laptop. You huff as you realize that you want to go home but Mel was talking to some tall man who was quite handsome off stage in a corner and Caitlyn was with you on stage but she was busy talking to a red-haired butch that was covered in tattoos on the other side of the large stage.

You reach lazily into your back pocket, pulling out your phone to call your girlfriend. You blink rapidly to try and focus your eyes on your screen, leaning a bit to one side as if that would help your slightly blurry vision due to both your intoxication and the number of strobe lights.

You successfully press the call button and hold the speaker up to your ear as you take slow steps over to Caitlyn, tapping her bare shoulder as she is wearing a rosewood red lace tank and a short black skirt. You mutter an apology to someone you bumped into as you tap on her shoulder again.

She turns her head around to see you holding up your phone to your ear, furrowing her brows.

“Wait, darling, who are you calling?” Caitlyn shouts over the music, one hand on the girl’s shoulder that she was talking to and the other brushing her long blue hair over her ear.

“Sevik– Hi, baby!” You beam as the line clicks, cutting yourself off before nodding to Caitlyn and mouthing, ‘Sevika’.

You think you hear a little bit of shuffling on the other line before you shake your head with a frown, looking up at your best friend. The line clicked off so you assumed you needed to go somewhere quiet to be able to talk to the woman you loved.

“Cait, wait a minute. I’m gonna,” you take a deep breath to stabilize yourself, holding a hand out to make sure you don’t face plant onto the ground. “‘M gonna go just a little bit outside so that Sev can pick us up. I’ll be righ’ back, okay?”

“No, no, you’re not going alone. Wait right here. Do not move.”

The taller woman turns to the butch she was talking to, sending her a quick flirty smile before leaning down to say something in her ear. You wait patiently for her, looking down at your screen again to see a few message notifications from Sevika.

from sevi ❤︎ | Babe, is everything okay?

from sevi ❤︎ | You did mean to call me, right?

from sevi ❤︎ | Please text me, my love. I’m getting a bit worried.

Your heart aches at the bright reminders that you have a girlfriend: who cares about your well-being. You look up to see Caitlyn placing a kiss to the woman's cheek before handing her back her phone. You swore even being as drunk as you were, you could tell how flustered that woman was. You understood though.

Caitlyn is fucking stunning.

“We grab Mel and we head outside, okay? I see her right there.” Caitlyn’s long arm hooks on yours, a big of a smug grin on her face.

“She was hot! You gave her your number right?” You squeal as you carefully step down with Caitlyn to the ground level once again.

A wave of nausea washed over you as you attempted to balance yourself out. You believe Caitlyn confirmed the fact that she had gotten the butch’s number but the next thing you remember is being face-to-face with Mel and the man she had been talking to.

She tells you his name, leaning in to shout it in your ear.

“Jay? Hi Jay! You are very handsome,” you shout in his face, a stupid smile on your face.

The man’s face twists in amusement at your state and looks at Mel with a softer expression. “H-Hi! It’s Jayce but thank you.”

Your mouth forms into an ‘o’ at how you misheard the name, stuttering out apologies. He waves it off, telling you it's okay.

“I think someone’s calling you,” the man, Jayce, points to your phone that was buzzing in your hand.

You look down at it, muttering a curse as it was Sevika calling you once again and you are still inside the loud crowded warehouse.

“Meli, we’ve got to go outside for a moment. Sevika’s calling her,” Caitlyn placed a hand on Mel’s forearm.

Mel looked between you and Jayce, excusing herself to the man and reassuring him that she’d be right back. He told her it was fine and to not worry about it. You couldn’t hold back your awe and wave ‘bye’ at Jayce as Caitlyn and Mel now had one arm hooked on either one of yours as the three of you made your way outside.

“I’ll call her back,” Caitlyn reaches for your phone that was gripped tightly in your hand.

You easily allow her to take it from you, resting your head on Mel’s shoulder as the fresh air hits you the second you step outside. You hum a random tune as Mel rests her head on your head too, rubbing her free palm on your hand.

Caitlyn took a step away from you two to dial Sevika on your phone again to let her know that you were fine and just wanted to go home. Within minutes after ringing her back, Sevika was in her beaten town truck just across the street. You gasped at the sight of it, even in your drunken state, you were able to recognize the familiar vehicle.

Sevika walks over to you three, greeting Mel and Caitlyn first before allowing you to wrap your arms around her torso to lean into her touch. You held yourself up weakly, stumbling over the curb.

“Sevika,” you sigh with a slight groan.

“Yeah, baby, I’m here. We’re gonna go home,” the taller of you two leaned down to press a kiss to your damp temple from your sweat.

“We’ll see you on Monday. I’ll call you tomorrow to make sure you’re okay.” Caitlyn assures you with a sweet grin, leaning back into Mel now that you are clinging to your girlfriend.

“Wait, who’s taking you home? I don’ want you guys to be here alone,” you look up at Sevika and point your finger over her shoulder to her truck. “Let’s take ‘em home, baby.”

Mel and Caitlyn are quick to assure you and your girlfriend that the man that they were previously talking to would take them home as he was the DD for his best friend that he was with that night. You stare unable to remember for a moment who they were talking about.

“Ohhh, Jaycey boy! He seems really nice, Meli. I’m so happy for you,” you nod in approval with a thumbs up as you lean into Sevika’s chest.

“She has our locations, Sevika,” Caitlyn tells your girlfriend, hinting to her to check it every once in a while to make sure the man wouldn’t take them anywhere they weren’t supposed to.

Sevika nods in understanding, sternly telling the two to please be safe. Mel showed a photo of Jayce to Sevika to make sure she knew who this man was. Your mind only had bits and pieces of that night that you were able to remember.

For instance, after Sevika had picked you up, you couldn’t remember the drive home whatsoever. What you do remember is begging Sevika to get some Nacho Fries and a frozen Baja Blast.

You reached over her lap from the passenger's seat to tell the worker your order, Sevika placing a hand on your lower stomach to keep you steady so you wouldn’t fall forward and hit your face on the car door.

“Wait, Sevi, do you wan’ anything?” You turn your back into the car to look at your girlfriend.

“No, I’m okay. Thank you, baby.” she leans forward to kiss your side before patting your hip to motion for you to sit back down.

“Mm okay,” you hum before telling the worker that should be everything and snuggle back down into your seat.

After paying for the food and handing it to you in the passenger's seat, Sevika told you that you were almost home and you could eat it then. You didn’t listen and ate all of the fries in her car and hounded down the Baja Blast with ease.

Thankfully, your shared apartment was only a few minutes away from Taco Bell.

Sevika had opened your passenger's side door when you arrived, holding back an amused at the giddy expression on your face. She held her arm out for you to grasp onto as you stepped down onto the concrete of the road. You hum to yourself as you look up at Sevika, raising your free hand to pat her broad shoulder.

“Baby, would it be so bad if we…?” You trail off as you giggle to yourself at the thought.

“If we what?” Sevika hums back as her arm slithers around your waist to hold you up as the two of you make your way to your apartment.

Sevika internally cursed as she knew you wouldn’t want to go up all of the stairs. You two lived on the fourth floor.

“Well, I don’t know. What we woul’ usually be doing on a Friday– Oh!”

You yelp as Sevika wraps her arms around your waist to hoist you up and over her shoulder, cutting off your words. Your hands rest on her lower back, grinning mischievously to yourself at the sight of her skin.

“You don’t feel like throwing up?” Sevika questions as she holds your thighs down with one of her forearms.

“Nuh-uh. ‘M lovin’ this view though,” you chuckle to yourself as you stare at her ass, blinking a bit to focus your vision.

Sevika shakes her head knowingly, smiling at your giggles the whole way up the stairs. She even felt your hands caressing her strip of skin that was exposed from her slightly cut-off t-shirt.

“You’re having fun down there?” She questions as she approaches your front door, reaching into her front pocket to pull out her keys.

You merely smack her ass to confirm her suspicions to which she lightly smacks your own with a: “Keep your hands to yourself.”

You twiddle with a loose string coming from the shirt as she carries you into your cool apartment, tossing her keys into the bowl near the front door. She kicks the door shut with her foot with a soft grunt, scaring you for a moment at the sudden movement.

“Baby, lock the door for me, please?” She asked you, scooting backward a few steps.

You lift your head, steadying yourself with one weak hand on her lower back as you reach for the three knobs. You twist each of them to the right with a soft click. Sevika kisses the side of your hip that is next to her face and thanks you before making her way down the hall to your shared bedroom.

“Sevi, I think I’m gonna throw up a little,” you warn her, hiccuping a bit.

Sevika’s eyes widen at your words as she carefully sets you down on your feet, holding your hips to lead you to the bathroom. You cover your mouth as you stumble to kneel next to the toilet, hunching over as you wait for the vomit to hit the water. Sevika quickly took her place next to you as she pushed back your falling strands of hair, gathering it in a ponytail in her fist.

“Let it out if you need to. It’s okay if you can’t,” she rubs your back with the other hand, wincing at your gagging.

You groan as you shake your head, eyes watering at the fact that it wasn’t coming up.

“It’s not– I can’t. I though’ I could, Sevi,” you frown up at her as you slump against the wall in front of the seat.

Sevika shushes you as she releases your hair and takes your hands into her larger ones, urging you to stand up.

“It’s okay. Let’s just get you to bed,” she instructs you gently.

You nod slowly, sniffling as you let her lead you back into the bedroom. You remember her carefully removing your ‘party clothes’ and putting one of her sleeping tees on you. She knew how much you adored them so at least you would have that to wake up to. She grabbed some of your micellar water and a rag to remove what was left of your makeup, holding your jaw in your hand as you kept trying to lay down once the comfier clothing was on.

After doing the usual night routine, you plopped down onto the mattress with a satisfied sigh as she snuggled your cheek into the pillowcase.

“Night, baby,” you hum as you smack your lips.

“Good night, my love,” she teases as she places a kiss on your cheek before rounding the bed to lie down on her side.

You pretty much passed out as soon as Sevika had lifted the covers over you two, mouth ajar and limbs awry.

You were never drinking again.

You thought as you carefully sat upright in your bed, squinting your eyes hard as the light from the morning sun was blinding you through your thin curtains. The headache and nausea hit you all at once as you covered your mouth, afraid of the bile that might escape. You wait a few seconds to make sure you aren’t actually going to throw up. Your eyes follow to your bedside table as you reach over to grab your phone, your movements slow as ever.

As you squint your eyes to focus on the screen, you see a few messages from Caitlyn and Mel; telling you they made it home and they were in fact not kidnapped. You then shift your eyes to the numbers at the top.

It was 9 o’clock in the morning; way too fucking early for the night you had.

You grunt as you gradually lay back down, wanting to stay still for the next three hours to not trigger the pounding headache to worsen. You peer over your bedroom door to see that it was left halfway open, the sound of footsteps coming down the hallway. Not to your surprise, it was Sevika with a small tray of food for you. You could hear her whisper a curse as she tried her hardest to not spill the coffee on it.

“Sevika?” You call out to her, your groggy and strained voice making your head hurt.

“You’re awake. Good morning,” Sevika tells you with a knowing and sympathetic smile.

You groan in response to her words, wanting to grab the pillow you were laying your head on and shield your face.

“I want to sleep,” you say right off the bat, frowning at her as you try to recollect the events of the previous night.

“I know, my love but can you eat this for me? You’ll feel better once you have food in you.”

Your girlfriend slowly sits herself down on the empty space next to you; her side of the bed. You knew she was right but you felt like you had to use so much energy just to sit upright, let alone eat.

And chew.

And drink.

It all sounded so… bothersome. But then you feel Sevika leaning over to press a few kisses onto your cheek and jaw, a hand rubbing up and down your arm that was out from under the comforter. You shut your eyes as you sigh at the feeling, wishing the kisses could push away your hangover.

“15 minutes,” she places one kiss on your jaw, “and then,” another to your nose, “you can sleep all day.”

You pretend as if you weren’t already set on eating as she continues to kiss as gently as possible every square inch of your face. Your smile grows as you force out a grumbled ‘fine’ as you steadily sit upright so that your back is resting on the headboard.

“You’re too good to me, Sev,” you tell her as you rub your tired eyes, yawning as she places the tray in your lap.

Sevika hums in agreement, playfully tapping underneath your chin with a hooked finger.

“Just eat. Then I’ll leave you alone, I promise.”

“No,” you reach for her hand, intertwining your fingers. “Never leave me alone.”

Sevika can’t help the smitten flush that covers her face as she takes your intertwined hands to kiss the back of yours.

“Never.”

You weakly smile at that before digging into your eggs, toast, fruit, and Tylenol with a long and collected sigh, enjoying the flavors of it all. You look down at your sleeping attire, feeling warm at the fact that it was Sevika’s.

Whether it was drunk, sober, or mind-numbingly hungover, she always took care of you.

TAGLIST: @eilishxo @nevergonna-give-u-up @archangeldyke-all @violynsb @lesbianpuppygirl @cutestdarkskin @moodient @starytree @capedyke @sameshoeally @lovinglynny @rurides @iluvwomensm

[chimerafeathers]

reading the end talks knowing how everyone feels about staying with each other feels like being beaten over the head with a hammer. the subtext that Siffrin is taking away from each conversation confirming his own expectations of the others' expectations, versus the subtext that each of them are desperately trying to convey back to him without coming across as weird and clingy because of their OWN perceptions of everyone's expectations.

Bonnie (regular): "Wait, that's such a long journey though!!! I'm not gonna go find you just so I can punch you if you're wrong!!! That's dumb!!! [...] Okay, then I'll believe you!!! Hopefully I won't have to walk forever to punch you!!!"

Bonnie (friendquest): "...I'll miss you, Frin. ... I know you'll leave soon, but, um... Y-You should come by Bambouche one day! So you can meet my sister!!! So I can say... "That's Frin! They helped me a bunch! They're really cool!!!" So come and see me sometime, yeah? Promise? [...] I'll be waiting for you, Frin!!!"

"i know you'll leave soon" "that's such a long journey" assuming that Siffrin would never want to stay close by, that wherever he goes would be arduous for them to reach. ...and, maybe in Siffrin's interpretation, not worth the annoyance and exertion it would take to reach them.

Isabeau (regular): "I can't wait to go back to my old job, you know? Make sure to say hi when you're near Jouvente, 'kay?"

Isabeau (friendquest): "...I hope...I hope you'll at least visit sometime, Sif. Our journey is over, but don't be a stranger, okay?"

Isabeau, short and restrained after his aborted confessions. maybe keeping it brief and simple to not overcomplicate the triumph of the moment, hoping he'll have the chance to express himself properly later (they're all having dinner together tonight, after all! they'll have time for feelings talks then! why wouldn't they?). not wanting to overwhelm or assume. how can he ask for anything more substantial than a visit before Siffrin knows how he feels, what he might want, what Siffrin might want?

Odile (regular): "But now I can finally get back to traveling. [...] It'll be weird to travel alone now, but I'll get used to it again. Or I could just go home to Ka Bue... Hm... [...] Ha...I'll miss you, Siffrin. You're a little strange, but you're a good kid. Maybe try letting down your walls every once in a while, huh? And come to Ka Bue anytime. Maybe we'll meet again during your travels."

Odile (friendquest): "It was fun. Traveling with everyone. I will miss it. [...] I... I suppose everyone will go back to their homes, now... Mirabelle will probably stay here, Isabeau will probably go back to Jouvente, and we'll ask someone to accompany Bonnie back to Bambouche... And what about you, Siffrin? Will you be going back home? [...] Oh... Why no-- ... No. Sorry, this isn't any of my business. But... No home at all... I never knew. I'm sorry. [...] ...I'll probably be going back to Ka Bue soon. Our paths will diverge soon... But if you ever come towards Ka Bue... Please come by, and say hello, won't you? ...Don't be a stranger, Siffrin."

Odile, reinforcing everyone's assumptions, backing away from the opening Siffrin gave her out of respect for their privacy, and sharing more of her own hand than Siffrin may even realize—resigning herself back to the quiet of her own company after the warmth and noise of being with everyone else. but even as a fellow traveler, both ~obviously intending~ to continue their journeys, there's no suggestion that their paths may intertwine deliberately, only inevitably diverge and briefly cross by happenstance or on a whim.

Mirabelle (regular): "...You can be so nice, Siffrin. [...] You know, um, um... Um!!! I know we haven't known each other for that long... B-But I hope you know I really treasure your company! I do! I really really do!!! And so... Thank you! Thank you for accompanying me on this journey! [...] ...I'm sure you're excited to go back to traveling on your own... But don't forget me, okay? Come see me at Dormont anytime! I'd love to hang out! Promise!!!"

Mirabelle (friendquest): "I have a lot ahead of me, still. But I never would have realized this without you, Siffrin! S-So, whenever you're done traveling, or you'd like to stay someplace for a little bit... Maybe think about coming to visit Dormont? Just to say hi? B-But you don't have to!!! It's just an idea!!! [...] I'm glad we're friends, Siffrin. ... D-Don't forget about me on your journey, okay!"

Mirabelle got so goddamn close to an actual, straightforward invitation for them to stay with her. "whenever you're done traveling or you'd like to stay someplace for a bit" could be a long-term thing of indefinite duration! but then she anxiously backtracks to "visit," "just say hi," "you don't have to! it was just an idea!" out of fear of coming on too strong, imposing too much. she's the one afraid of being forgotten, here, worrying that she'll fade as easily from their mind as anything else, unmissed. trying to balance emphasizing that his company is something that she genuinely wants, but leaving room for them to back out without feeling awkward if it's not something that they genuinely want.

in every case, Siffrin's plans "to keep/go back to traveling" are assumed, the distance is assumed, the separation is inevitable. it's all Siffrin can hear, couched in polite, socially mandated overtures to keep in touch. everyone will be gone and they will be alone again, outside of brief, occasional reunions (and always reunions that he would have to impose to initiate—how can they choose to visit Siffrin if they have no home to visit?—how can Siffrin know if they truly meant it when they asked, if they'll still mean it as time goes on?).

it's all the rest of the party can imagine, too—of course their mysterious rogue will quietly disappear back into the forests and crowds, impossible to find or contact after it's all over. they're left asking, begging, through the clenched teeth of social restraints, not to be left behind or forgotten, either. please visit, they say. don't you get it? don't you know how important to me you've become, how much i want to keep you in my life? they don't say.

and now all i can hear when i read back these lines is

i can't ask you to stay/come with me, but please, please don't let this be the last time i see you.