#jokes on me I’ll be asleep forever

[betterthanbatman1]

​He looks like the shell of the man he used to be

Look at his eyes. They’re completely empty. They’re not like how one would describe ‘cold, dead eyes’. No, they’re eyes devoid of life. It’s so much more than just eyes that are ‘empty and emotionless’. Every single detail on his body shows just how much emotion and turmoil this boy has been through.

Those eyes are hollow because everything he’s been through has ripped his soul-the the very essence of himself- away. The eyes aren’t completely blank, so it’s more than just emptiness. The irises were sketched but still lack colour. His eyes have been washed out not erased. It truly captures the pain he’s in and has been through.

They say ‘Eyes are the windows to the soul’. His soul has been through so much for his eyes to reflect that so painfully.

[moonstruckme]

May I pleaseeee request poly!marauders x reader (gn or fem, up to you) where r and siri come home at like, 4 am from a rave (or clubing), and they are in makeup and have glitter all over them, and their exhausted and only slightly tipsy (from alchohol or drugs, up to whatever you think would be more fun to write) so they try to get cleaned up without waking up james or remus but ultimately fail?

I totally understand if you don't wanna write it ����

Thank you for requesting lovely!

cw: mention of alcohol

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

When Remus wakes, he doesn’t at first know why. James is asleep next to him, snuffling softly, his cheek smushed into the pillow and drool leaking from the corner of his mouth. Remus’ fingers are woven loosely in the curls by his forehead. 

Then there’s a muffled thump from down the hall, followed by some hushed cursing, and he remembers. 

“They definitely moved the couch closer to the door to fuck with us.” Then, a moment later: “I am being quiet. Doll, you’re projecting.” 

Get a drop of alcohol in Sirius, and he becomes the worst whisperer in the world. 

Remus can hear your attempts at shushing your boyfriend as he slips out of bed. James is dead to the world, but he stretches out an arm as Remus’ fingers unwind from his hair as though feeling for where he’s gone. Glancing at the clock on his nightstand, Remus is gladder than ever that he and James had begged off this particular excursion. It’s past five in the morning. 

He goes toward the light they left on for you by the door, but you and Sirius have already migrated to the kitchen. Remus props himself up on the doorframe, wrapping his arms around his middle, and allows himself to just watch the two of you for a minute. 

“Water first,” you’re saying, voice hushed far more effectively than Sirius’. You grab two glasses with extreme care from the cabinet, setting them down slowly so as not to make any noise. 

“I think this makeup is going to be crusted onto me forever,” Sirius whines. “I’ll never be able to get it all off.” 

“I don’t know if I have the energy to try,” you admit. 

You do both have an awful lot of glitter on you. What was intentional and precise when you left that evening has now traveled down onto your cheeks, leaving you lustrous and disheveled-looking. When Sirius closes his eyes, tipping his head back as he leans against the countertop, the black makeup around his eyes makes them look like glittering chasms. Remus notes that your shoulder shimmers with a similar color, like he’d laid his head on it at some point in the night. 

You pass Sirius a glass and hoist yourself up onto the counter, the both of you falling quiet while you drink your water. You sigh at the end of it. 

Sirius hums in response, a tired sort of smile lifting his lips. He leans his head against the side of your arm and lets his eyes fall closed again. 

“Did you have fun?” he asks, softer now than he has been since you came inside. 

“Mhm.” You set your empty glass down, using that hand to comb strands of hair away from Sirius’ face. 

Remus' heart nearly turns to mush as he watches the two of you, each clearly exhausted and yet still trying to take care of the other. You, you’ve always been open with your tenderness, but Sirius has taken years to get to where he is now. It still surprises Remus sometimes to see it, his boyfriend’s caring out from under the shroud of insouciance and joking. 

“I have an idea,” you say. Your tone is warm and lulling, not unlike your boyfriend’s. “We could take the spicy crisps into the living room, and lay on the couch to eat them.” 

Eyes still closed, Sirius smiles. “What about bed?”

“Rem won’t let us eat them in the bed.” 

Remus suppresses a chuckle. 

“I know, sweetness. I thought you were tired.” 

You sigh, long and heavy. “I am. I think I’m so tired I almost don’t care if I go to sleep. I might die if I don’t have a spicy crisp, though.” 

Sirius seems to be contemplating this when James comes up behind Remus. His hair is askew and glasses falling down the bridge of his nose, and he has the glazed-over look of someone who themselves is not quite sure if they’re awake or dreaming. 

“How wasted are they?” he asks, voice weighted with drowsiness. 

“Not very, I don't think,” Remus murmurs. 

That’s when Sirius notices them. He picks his head up, nudging your knee with his elbow so you look over. 

“Oh.” You shrink a bit, expression pinching. “Sorry.�� 

You so thoroughly look it that Remus can’t even feign upset at having been woken up. “Come to bed,” he says fondly. 

Neither of you move but Sirius opens his arms, beseeching Remus to come to him instead. Remus, too tired to pretend at being any less in love than he is, goes. 

“I thought you’d be in earlier,” he says into Sirius’ hair. It smells like sweat and a little bit like smoke. 

“The cabs were busier than we expected,” Sirius replies, voice even sleepier now that his face is in Remus’ neck. “We walked a while and then caught a bus once they started running.” 

Remus makes a disgruntled sound, but it’s James who says, “You should’ve called.” His voice sounds muffled, and Remus looks over to find it’s buried in your chest. You’re smiling faintly with your face turned down into his curly mop, your hands on the back of his head and his holding your thighs. “We would’ve come and got you.” 

“I wanted to,” Sirius defends himself, removing his face from Remus’ neck to cut you a teasing look. “She wouldn’t let me.” 

James lifts his head to look up at you. 

“I didn’t want to wake you,” you say, voice soft as though still trying to accommodate the sleep he really should be getting. “You both have work in the morning.” 

James groans at the reminder, hiding his face in your chest again. Remus sets a hand on top of his head, scratching James' scalp consolingly. 

“You should always call,” he tells you, just for the record. But really he’s in no mood to argue. “Let’s go to bed, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you sigh, slipping off the counter. 

James wraps his arms around your shoulders, forcing the both of you to walk with small, plodding footsteps, and Sirius also refuses to be out of Remus’ hold, clinging to his arm as you all start down the hallway. The bed is no sooner in sight that you let out a low whine. 

Sirius echoes it when you say, “We still have to take off our makeup.”

“What if,” James suggests, “you sleep now, and when Remus and I get up in an hour we can take it off for you while you stay in bed?” 

James hardly has time to let you go before Sirius is hanging off him, almost teary with gratitude. “God, I love you. That’s the best idea I ever heard.” 

[sinofwriting]

Private Professor - Max Verstappen

Words: 5,576 Summary: For years and years, Max has claimed that he has a girlfriend, but no one has ever met her and he refuses to talk about her with the media. And it’s far easier to believe that he’s lying when no proof of a girl exists. Note(s)/Warning(s): Small Age Gap (Reader is nearly two years younger), Some Angst, Mostly Fluff, Jos Verstappen. Thank you so much to the anon that requested this! I had a lot of fun writing it!

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At fourteen and sixteen, their relationship is all blood rushing to their cheeks, fluttering hands, kisses that last too long and not long enough, panting breaths, and hickeys below shirt collars. It’s whispers of forever, of I’ll take you here and there. That house will be ours one day. Whatever you want, you’ll have. I’ll be on break, you’ll come home and I’ll be waiting. You’ll follow me everywhere and I’ll do the same.

It’s promises they don’t realize they shouldn’t be making but do. It’s sweet nothings and petty fights that last a day before they’re back in each other's arms. It’s pretending not to notice how his dad watches him amused as he walks calmly out of the door before sprinting over to her house and sneaking into her bedroom. It’s her parents pretending not to hear the thud of him falling into her bedroom and the light giggles their daughter makes.

At fourteen and sixteen, their relationship changes. It’s no longer seeing each other when he doesn’t have a race or training and is home, no Red Bull duties to be done. It’s long phone calls, texts, snapchat streaks, learning how to video call. It’s carrying two power banks with them everywhere and Max buying them both expensive phone cases that charge their phones. It’s falling asleep on the phone while the other is just beginning their day. He attends classes with her, while she listens to him train. He goes to red bull meetings and pretends not to have the light sound of breathing in his ears from her falling asleep while studying or doing her homework.

Fifteen and seventeen, brings them peace. She’s still studying like a mad woman at Harvard of all places, but he’s got an F1 seat of all things. He’s in F1. He suddenly has more things to do but more free time. When he’s not racing or at the factory or doing weird press things that make him want to rip his hair out, Jos is putting him on a plane to America, to her. And he soaks up all the time with her he can, despite it being filled with her studying, attending classes, and forcing actual food down her throat which her parents both thank him for.

It also brings the stupidest thing in the world; the doubt and disbelief that he has a girlfriend.

Carlos is the first to bring it up upon seeing his home screen that’s just all black, not even the default that iphone has.

“No girlfriend?” Max frowns at him, pocketing his phone and sending a glance over to where his father is standing and talking to his race engineer. “What?” “Your home screen, it’s all black. You don’t have a girlfriend?” Carlos is teasing, joking. The whole paddock already knows that Jos Verstappen wouldn’t let his son have a girlfriend, not now when he’s got an F1 seat. Such a thing would be a distraction and Max isn’t allowed those. Max isn’t allowed friends on the grid either. Carlos wonders though how much the last part is just a Jos thing. “I do.” Then he says her name, all soft and sweet in a way Carlos never thought Max could be. It’s nearly enough for him to believe Max, but then he catches a glimpse of Jos and shakes his head, clapping the seventeen year old on the back.

He is the first to not believe Max, but far from the last. It’s Daniel next, Christian, Esteban, Pierre, Sebastian, Lando, every interviewer that asks.

It doesn’t matter because at seventeen and nineteen, she gets her second degree and begins the nightmare of getting her doctorates in education and history. And he picks out a ring before making his father hide it away. And instead of him constantly flying to her, she’s flying to him. Hiding out in his Monaco apartment, turning his living room into a disaster zone as she spreads her things around to study.

The mess drives him crazy, but he doesn’t move anything no matter how much his hands itch to do so, instead just pressing a kiss to the top of her head before pressing himself in between her and the couch. Grinning when she sends him a look, a clear don’t be a distraction, before giving him a kiss.

His days in Monaco when she’s there are spent in the living room after training, playing fifa or watching some documentary for one of her classes with her, and poking at her lightly because he doesn’t know shit about history but he’s still able to remember countries quicker than her.

They turn eighteen and twenty and nearly get married when her family goes on vacation to Vegas, dragging the two along despite them not being able gamble, which is the only reason her parents had chosen Vegas. The only thing that stops them from getting married is him not being a US citizen and her visa just being for school. It’s a fucking wakeup call for him and he can’t help but pester her about places in Monaco to live.

She entertains it for all of five minutes before she’s cupping his face and kissing him. When she pulls back, she’s shaking her head. “As long as it has you and four bedrooms, I don’t care.” “Four?” “We’ll need our own offices and a guest room.”

It’s barely anything for the real estate agent to work with but he doesn’t care. He wants something that’s at least four bedrooms, two baths, a decent kitchen, and a view. She liked the Monaco sunrise and sunset and he planned on letting her be able to see it anytime they stayed in Monaco.

His agent gets back to him in a week and he ignores the look on Daniel’s face when he comes over for the first time. Ignores the jokes about it being too big for one person just like Daniel ignores him saying that he has a girlfriend.

“If you had one, I’d have seen a picture of her mate. The whole world would.”

Max still remembers the way his jaw had twitched at the thing everyone said. That if he had a girlfriend, they’d have seen a picture of her, that he’d be showing her off every second, have her at the races, been seen with her. When Max had made it abundantly clear that the worst part of driving was the media, the fame. So why would he ever subject someone he loves to that when they both weren’t ready for that?

Because they weren’t. He wasn’t ready for another part of his life, one of the most important parts, to be something for everyone to look at and dissect. And she wasn’t ready for it either. Not when she was doing so much studying. She barely felt like she had time for him, which he denied and hated vehemently, she didn’t have time for the online vitriol of being a girlfriend to a high profile athlete. And she didn’t need to be harassed as she attended classes and studies groups and such if someone recognized her and didn’t like that she was with him.

Not showing any pictures or videos of her was also easy for him. It wasn’t because he didn’t have any, he had hundreds. But they were pictures and videos of her, only meant for him. Not because they were dirty in nature, though some were, but because how she was in them was something only she allowed him to see. It was photos of her with a finger pressed to her top lip as she glared at her books, videos of her sitting on something too tall for her feet to touch the ground and letting them swing. It was her smiling at him, all fond, shy and in love.

It was them wrapped up in each other's arms and love. Her in between his legs or the other way around. Her sitting on his lap as Vic stole his phone to video them laughing and exchanging kisses. Her giggles as she tries not to fall asleep as reads her books to him over facetime. It’s her in her purest form and he doesn’t want the people in his life who are so quick and sure to not believe him to get to see that.

Nineteen and twenty-one, she officially co-owns their place in Monaco and he starts scouting out property in Belgium and land in France that’s somewhat close to the principality he lives in. It was too early to start building a house to live in forever, not when they weren’t sure what they wanted to live in forever with their kids, but it wasn’t too early to buy the land for it.

It also leads to their biggest fight in years.

“Max!” Her nails are digging into her arms. “I’m not saying that. I’m saying that I want to help, that I can pay. I have money!” “And you don’t need to!” He’s yelling as well, face red with anger. “I’ve got money too! You don’t need to pay for shit when I can.” She shakes her head. “Really? Is that how it's always going to be? I won’t ever get to pay for anything? Just have a salary and trust fund wasting away.” She scoffs, giving another shake of her head. “Is it about being the breadwinner? Because don’t worry Max, I’m well aware that you’ll always have more money than me. Doesn’t mean I can’t contribute to our life.” “Fuck.” He murmurs seeing the tears brimming in her eyes but not falling, the hurt in her words. “It’s not about that at all. It’s not about being the breadwinner.” “Then what is it about?” Her voice is high pitched. “You won’t let me pay for a single thing! I can’t buy groceries without you slipping money back into my wallet. I can’t help pay the bills and now you won’t let me help buy the land that will have our house on it. What is it about Max?” “You’re mine.” Her eyes widened at his quiet but firm tone. “You’re my girlfriend, the love of my life. One day my wife and the mother of my children.” He runs his tongue over his teeth, feeling words and feelings he’s only ever really let come out during sex or when they're both so drunk they barely remember anything the next day. “I want to pay for everything because it’s providing for you, it’s making sure you’re eating, sleeping somewhere safe, getting the best, most accommodating flights. It’s knowing that I’m providing for my family.”

“Max,” she breathes out, arms falling away from her chest and then she’s moving closer, resting a hand over his racing heart. “You want to provide for me?” He nods. “For our future kids?” “Yes.” “So do I. So, we’re going to work on this. You want to buy the land, you can.” He looks at her distrusting, because this didn’t sound like working on it. “But, I get to pay for groceries when I go out for them, without you paying me back. I get to pay for netflix because I use it more and spotify.” She adds. He frowns at her. “I don’t like it.” “Too bad and I’m not done. In return, you get to pay the bills, put gas in the car for me,” he grins at that. “Pay for my flights and we are going to open a joint account to put an equal amount of money in every month. For things like vacations, anniversary dinners, and the kids. Because it’s important that I get to help provide for them too. And when we build that house together, I want to pay at least half of the contracting fee. I’ll let you pay for the rest.” “I want to pay for any of the kids' interests. Like art, ballet or karting.” “No deal.” She shakes her head and he’s frowning again. “You can pay for all the karting, it will mean more. But I want it out of the shared account for the other things. Unless,” she pauses. “Unless,” he encourages. “If any of them decides to go to university early like me, I want to pay fully for it.” “No.” It’s quick and now she’s frowning as well. “It’s our children and their education. Shared account.” “Their first degree.” He shakes his head. “And if it’s their only degree?” Her brows press together, it was a good point. Just because they decided to go to university early like her didn’t mean they’d go for more than one degree. “First year.” His eyes narrow as he looks at her, but he nods. “First year. But only of the first degree.” “First degree only.” She agrees.

It’s quiet between them before Max lets his face soften, lips twisting slightly into a smile. “Are we done fighting?” She laughs, but nods. “Yeah. We’re done fighting.” “Thank god.” He breathes, pulling her into his arms and burying his face into the crook of her neck. “Let’s not do that again.” “Not anytime soon at least.” “I love you.” He murmurs. “I love you too.”

Twenty and twenty-two has their families asking when exactly they’re getting married, wondering why there isn’t a ring on her finger and their only saving grace is their time spent in Monaco together away from them all. But when it gets to be too much as pressure builds as she tries to finish her doctorate in education while still working on her doctorate for history, it’s Jos that steps in for her and Max.

The three of them shared a complicated relationship. She could never like him for the parent he was to Max growing up. From the near abuse he hurled at him when he failed, the pressure he put on a child, the leaving him in a foreign country for a few hours when he wasn’t even a teenager more than once. But she did love him, because Max loved him and in his own way he loved Max and he showed that with his support of their relationship when everyone expected for him to have a problem with it, label it as a distraction. And now as a few years had passed and Max was comfortable in his F1 seat, he was Max’s fiercest defender, unwilling to back down, but would if Max told him too. And he was her fiercest defender as well. Glaring at jokes about her not needing a degree with the money Max made, not forcing her to join on trips when she was busy with school or questioning her support of Max because she didn’t attend races.

So, neither Max or her are surprised when Jos steps in when her grandparents are trying to back them into a corner as to why she doesn’t have a ring on her finger and how they have a number for a wedding planner and she should really give her a call, when all they want is to get breakfast before retreating to their room so she can resume her studies while Max hovers around her while going over his own work.

She hadn’t been thrilled at first when she learned that Jos would join them on the trip, knowing that Sophie wouldn’t be there, but now she was grateful and she made sure to squeeze his shoulder before leaving the kitchen and scheduled a nice quiet dinner for herself, Max and Jos as thanks.

The media becomes relentless when they’re twenty-two and twenty-four and Max wins his first championship. Because there is no girlfriend in sight despite the now champions thanks for her support and love. They tear Max apart for creating a fake girlfriend that has no name or face, call him unloveable with his fake championship. Some tear her apart as well, calling her gold digger, selfish, undeserving, fans of Max and the sport do as well.

It was supposed to be a happy moment for him, one of if not the best in his life, but it’s tainted, ruined, and as soon as he’s home with her in Monaco, all she can do is hold him and pretend that the texts from his friends begging him to go out and get laid don’t make her cry later in the shower.

Despite the texts and a bold one from Daniel about hiring him a prostitute, she forces Max to go out, to celebrate with the drivers in Monaco, to get drunk and have fun, and forget what the media is saying about him.

“I’m coming back if one of them even hints at a prostitute.” He tells her and she laughs, but she knows that he’s serious. He’s never even once considered cheating on her and one of their first serious fights had been about her trying to convince him and herself that she’d be okay if he got lonely while he was traveling and needed someone. He hadn’t believed it for a second and it had been one of the few times he had been so pissed at her that he couldn’t even stomach to look at her.

“Am I making a mistake, mom?” She asks, barely five minutes later, not even bothering saying hi when her mom greets her over the phone. “No.” Her mom’s voice is firm and has her blinking away tears. “But,” “No.” Her mom cuts her off. “Sweetheart, I can’t even begin to try and understand Max and yours relationship. But this, this privacy that you two have, that’s not a mistake. It’s rough right now and it will be. And it will come back later when you two do decide to be public, but it’s not a mistake. You two both made the difficult, heartbreaking, mature decision to keep it private for both of yours sake.” “I know.” She whispers, wiping away tears. “You both still need privacy and there is no shame in that. Max isn’t ready and neither are you. As far as I’m concerned the only mistake you two have made is still not being married with a baby on the way.” “Mom.” She groans and her mom laughs. “I know, I know. Just remember that despite the seven or so years you’ve been together, that you two are still young, still doing so much growing.” “Thank you.” “Of course.”

When Max arrives home hours later, drunkenly stumbling around and into bed, she’s not surprised by the smell of liquor clinging to him or the drunken murmurings he’s pressing to her skin. She is surprised by the deep inhale he takes and the splutter that makes her turn to face him.

Eyes a little blurry from sleep and wine, she makes out squinted eyes, flushed face, and a frown.

“You’re drunk.” “You’re drunk.” She replies, curling closer to him. “You’ve been crying.” “Yeah.” He slips an arm around her, pulling her closer. “We’re going to feel like shit when we wake up.” “Yeah.” He chuckles, brushing lips over her forehead. “That bad?” “That bad.” She nods.

At twenty-three and twenty-four, the itch that Max has had since he was nineteen, one that’s grown worse and worse as the years have gone by, is too persistent and he takes a quick trip to his fathers house the day after she turns twenty-three and returns with a ring and the promises they made at fourteen and sixteen, promising them all over again, as she stares at him with a smile and teary eyes.

“I’d be stupid to not want to marry you Max.” She tells him when he slips the ring on her finger, breathing a sigh of relief when it goes on, fitting perfectly. “You’re going to marry me.” She nods, giggling at his blown pupils and silly grin. “Yes, I am.”

It seems stupid to be so giggly and flustered about it, so love sick, when they’ve talked about it so much. About getting married, about houses, kids, life after racing and teaching. But it’s different with the ring on her finger. Not more real or tangible. Just more.

“I know I proposed early.” She shakes her head, wrapping her arms around his neck and his arms eagerly wrap around her waist. “It’s perfect. I know we talked and had plans, but this is perfect. Besides, I’ve got news of my own that’s early.” “Oh?” Max’s eyebrow raises and he knows it’s not possible, not really with her religious use of the birth control shot and the way they mainly use condoms, more for convenience than anything else, but his eyes drift down to her abdomen that’s exposed. There’s no difference, but he can imagine what it would look like, he can also imagine what it will look like in a few hours. “Not that.” Her bottom lip is pulled between her teeth. “I got an email about my viva exam.” “Your viva? But you haven’t submitted your thesis yet.” “Actually,” “Stop.” He lifts a hand to press it against her mouth. “You submitted your thesis already? You completed it?” She nods, her laughter muffled by his hand and he drops it. “Well, what did it say? The email.” “Once I get to the ceremony, I will officially hold a doctorate in education and history.” He kisses her before she can say anything else.

“Unbelievable my love, unbelievable. Two doctorates by twenty-three.” He shakes his head, smiling wide. “You know what that means right?” He shakes his head again, unable to think of anything. Too overcome with his proudness and love for her. “I’ll have my position at Harvard right after the ceremony.” Blue eyes widen. “And they agreed to let me teach a mix schedule for all of 2022, but when the official school year starts for 2023, I’ll just be teaching digital.”

Twenty-three and twenty-five has them weathering the media storm once again as Max wins his second world championship. It’s worse this time. Not because he says more than he did last time about her or says her name or slips up and calls her his fiancee and not girlfriend like they agreed to. But because this championship no one can deny is his and she’s still not there. Too busy in a different continent with the start of the school year as she teaches by herself for the first time since earning both her doctorates.

It’s also not as bad this time, because some of his friends do think that he’s seeing someone, not the girlfriend of years, or even really a girlfriend, but just some random girl that understands he’s too busy for an actual relationship and willing to put up with him spouting to the media and everyone else that he’s in a committed relationship. She doesn’t have time to focus on the media and fans that believe she exists, she barely did last year, but this year she really doesn’t.

“You know,” she says five days after he’s won his championship and they are in the house they have stayed in for the past two years when she has to be at Harvard and he wants to join her. “Around this time next year, we’ll be public.” His face does a weird contortion at the thought. There was a giddiness to the idea, to the thought, but also dread. “That means,” she continues when Max doesn’t say anything. “That you have ample time to figure out how you want to tell people.” “How I want to?” “Yeah. This is your world, your friends, colleagues, nightmares,” she adds and they both laugh. “You can decide how exactly you want to get back at them for not believing you.” “I’m not going to be cruel.” “No.” She lifts her hand and lets her pointer finger trace over his lips. “You’ve never been a cruel person, Max. But you can be a menace.” His eyes light up at that. “Oh. And you don’t care?” She shakes her head, “This is all you and I’m more than happy to be along for the ride.”

She is twenty-four and he has just turned twenty-six when he decides to enact his plan that he came up with so many months ago.

He had made a reservation for a private hall in Monaco months ago, hired a party planner to take care of the finer details, but sorted himself out the place and the food and drinks that would be served. And the day after he turns twenty-six, he picks up the large stack of enveloped invitations he had made and carefully packs them in his suitcase for Qatar. He was winning the championship there and he’d be damned if he didn’t make an already memorable weekend even better.

It’s the first time in a decade she has traveled with him to a race to actually watch the race and not just be there at the hotel to support him as she studies and he can’t help the smugness and happiness that radiates off him when he shows up to the track for the first day.

He’s got his backpack over his shoulder, but the invitations are already in his hands, ready to be passed out.

“Max!” Charles greets when he arrives in the driver's debrief room. All twenty of them, plus reserves, team principals, and Daniel sitting and standing around as they wait for the FIA representative to get here. He looks down at his watch, noting that it will at least another ten minutes, before his eyes flicker to a member of the Red Bull staff that’s standing against a wall, but just like he asked, they’ve got a camera in their hands and there’s another one standing leaning against the opposite wall, also with a camera. “Charles. Safe flight?” “Always. What do you have there?” “Ooh,” Daniel chimes in, moving closer and looking at the envelopes in his hands. “What do you have there?” He smirks and he can see Daniel’s grin flatter at the sight for a brief second. “Invitations.” He says, before tossing or passing them around to the different drivers and Christian. He nearly avoids giving Lando one just to be a shit but Toto isn’t there to give it too and it wouldn’t be the same to give it to a different team principal jokingly.

“What is it for?” Carlos asks, eyeing the dark envelope like a lot of the other drivers are, suspiciously. He shrugs, eyebrows raising when he sees the way Lando is feeling the envelope. “Mate, I’m not giving you money.” Lando frowns, before ripping it open. “You’ve got more than enough to spare.” Seeing Lando open his, has the rest of them following suit.

“Dear friends of Max Verstappen,” George reads out and the wording earns a few snorts but he continues. “You are invited to celebrate at the” he pauses squinting at the french on the page. “The Salle des Étoiles” Charles says. “Cheers, mate. You’re invited to celebrate on the 8th of November at 4pm.” His eyebrows furrow. “Celebrate what?” Max watches from the corner of his eye as Christian flips the invitation over and nearly chokes.

“Your engagement?” “Your what?” “Engaged?” “Impossible.” “Lies.”

The whole room is filled with denial and panic and Max just smiles, nearly laughing when Logan thrusts his invitation into James’ hands and asks the team principal if it’s true.

“Max, you aren’t engaged, right? Like that was a fuck up with the print place?” Daniel is nearly pleading, begging, and Max would feel sorry, but for the past ten years he’s been telling people he isn’t single, and sure he’s never shared many details, but they all refused to believe or even consider it. He ignores him, instead looking at the room in large. “You’ll meet her tomorrow. She’s very excited about it.” And as if he planned it, the FIA official walks into the room and no one can question him.

When the meeting is over he manages to avoid all of them except for Christian, who nearly drags him into a private room.

“Is this real?” Max raises an eyebrow at the way he’s waving around the invitation but nods. “Yes.” “You’re really engaged.” “Yes, Christian. I am.” The older man stares at him, not blinking before sighing and running a hand over his face. “Is she pregnant?” “What?” “The girl you’ve been sleeping with recently. Is she pregnant, is that what this is about? Because you don’t have to marry her.” “No one is pregnant.” He reassures, not even able to find any anger for Christian and his assumption. The older man sighs again before sitting down and slumping in the chair.

“You’ve had a girlfriend since you were sixteen.” There’s regret, guilt, and sorrow in his voice. “Yes.” “And I never believed you.” He shrugs, it had hurt yes, but he had always understood Christian’s disbelief in it over anyone else's. “No.” Christian nods. “And I owe you both an apology for that. I should have believed you Max.” “Thank you.” “But really, ten years and you’ve just put a ring on it?” Max groans, rolling his eyes. “You sound like our families.”

They are twenty-four and twenty-six when Max wins his third championship, with the sprint race of all things, and the whole world watches as he’s enveloped by his team before he’s tugging off his helmet and kissing the unfamiliar girl that’s between Christian and Jos, shielded from the rough crowd of Red Bull mechanics, crew, and such. They are twenty-four and twenty-six when everyone finds out that Max had been telling the truth the whole time.

Just about a month later, she eases into the spot between Max and the arm of the couch, eagerly tucking herself closer to him when he drapes an arm over her shoulders.

“You alright?” She nods, “Yeah, Vic and Tom finally left.” Max snorts, “It only took them thirty minutes.” “A record for them.” She grins, before looking at the other people surrounding them, or rather Max. She wasn’t surprised that Max had taken to quickly grabbing a few people and secluding themselves in a corner. She was a bit surprised by the people however.

Charles and Daniel which isn’t too surprising, but there’s the three rookies of the season, Liam, Oscar, and Logan, as well, a little surprising, but nothing compared to the two Mercedes drivers also in front of her.

“You aren’t trying to get Lewis to play paddle are you?” Lewis laughs, shaking his head. “I get enough of competing with him on the track. There’s no convincing me there.” “It’s fun, Lewis.” Charles says. “You should join. George you too. Make it Mercedes versus,” he pauses, eyebrows scrunching together as he tries to think of something to call himself and Max. “Lestappen.” She offers, inching away a bit when Max pinches her side. Charles doesn’t notice the pinch, just smiles at her, before looking at the two British drivers. “Yes! Mercedes versus Lestappen.” His eyebrows then furrow. “What is Lestappen?” “Mate, you don’t want to know.” Liam tells him. Logan chuckles, “I don’t know. Either he finds out now or he finds out when he googles it later.” “Googles it.” George murmurs, mocking the American accent that Logan has. “Bloody Americans.” “Yeah, yeah, tea and crumpets.” Logan waves off Georges mocking with a grin as he looks at Charles. “It’s what people call you and Max, a nickname you could say for when you two are together.” She tells him before Logan can say anything. “Oh,” he frowns, considering. “That doesn’t sound so bad.” “It’s not.” She assures.

Before anyone can say anything else, someone joins their group, eyes focusing on her.

“Dr. Y/L/N, congratulations on your engagement.” She looks at the older man in surprise before quickly standing to shake his hand. “Toto, a pleasure to see you again. And please you don’t need to call me doctor.” Toto smiles, tilting his head forwards, conceding as she sits back down. “Doctor?” Daniel questions, eyes flitting between her and the Mercedes team principal, not sure of what to make of the interaction, though Max seems perfectly fine with it. She presses her lips together and she can feel Max move a bit closer as Toto’s eyes narrow at Max. “Yes.” She tells Daniel and the rest. “I managed to get both of my doctorates last year.” A few jaws drop and Lewis whistles. “And I thought you were just a teacher.” Toto’s looking at her now, with narrowed eyes and she sighs.

It would be just her luck that despite having just met the man once, that one time had resulted in a long conversation after he gave his guest lecture at Harvard.

“You told them you're a teacher.” “I told them I teach.” She corrects. “Let's not make a big deal out of it.” “I want to make a big deal out of it.” Max mumbles and she sends him a pleading look. But Max doesn’t give in, instead he turns to the rest of them. “She’s a professor at Harvard. She got both her doctorates at twenty-three and quickly was signed on as professor.” “So, what you’re saying,” Oscar starts, breaking the silence that has fallen over the group. “Is that she is way too smart for you?” Max laughs, eyes crinkling and body bending forward from the force of it. “Without a doubt, mate. Without a doubt.”

@cixrosie @darleneslane @teti-menchon0604 @eugene-emt-roe @fanboyluvr @gemofthenight @peachiicherries @lpab @benstormy @iloveyou3000morgan @copper-boom @boiohboii @topguncultleader

[nadvs]

cam girl (part six)

pairing rafe cameron x female reader

rating explicit 18+

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

» masterlist

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You don’t remember falling asleep. That’s how exhausted you were from your time with Rafe.

As you slowly slip into consciousness, your body feels loose and buzzing. Your core is trembling and you slowly catch on that you were having an erotic dream about him.

Your eyes flutter open, realizing your sex dream isn’t a dream at all. Rafe’s head is moving under your white comforter between your legs, his warm tongue flattening against your clit.

Your fatigued mind puts it together. He spent the night. He held you as you slept. And now he’s eating you out.

“Oh, fuck,” you chuckle breathily, writhing. “Oh, my God.”

“Finally,” he mutters beneath the cover, taking his mouth off of you to speak. His warm breath spreads over your pussy. “I can’t feel my fucking jaw anymore.”

You’re still in your big t-shirt, but you realize he took your panties off.

“Rafe,” you whine, feeling dizzy. Is he seriously waking you up with head? Holy shit.

“You always such a deep sleeper?” he grumbles. He dips to use his tongue on you again, circles swirling over you. His arms are hooked around your legs, large hands splayed on your inner thighs.

“Hmm?” you mumble, lost in the way he’s tonguing you. His mouth closes around your clit, then he pulls back to talk again.

“Do you always sleep so fucking deeply?” he repeats, his tone stern. His morning voice is raspy and deep and so hot that it’s painful.

“Only when I get really good dick the night before,” you say. You can’t help but take the opportunity to mess with him. “So, it’s weird I didn’t wake up right away.”

Rafe stiffens, his fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs as he pulls his mouth off of you.

“I’m joking,” you laugh. You pull the cover up to see his face between your legs. God, he looks so fucking cute, his expression completely unimpressed. “Please keep going, baby.”

“Listen, if you wanna fuck with me-“

“Rafe,” you giggle. “I promise, you’re the best I’ve had. Please keep going.”

“The best?” he echoes, eager for you to stroke his ego.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had a better orgasm than the one you gave me last night,” you say, totally honest.

“Huh. Maybe that should be the last one I give you if you’re gonna be such a brat.”

You know he’s just messing with you, but the thought of ending whatever this is with Rafe makes your heart pinch with sadness.

“What then?” Rafe challenges.

“Then I’ll swear off dick forever,” you reply.

You’re pleased when you see his eyes crinkle as he laughs, the sound so sweet. It’s different than the lust-filled, teasing chuckle you hear when you’re fucking. This one is innocent. Genuine.

“Say sorry for joking like that,” he orders you.

“Sorry, baby,” you smile.

“That’s what I thought,” he scoffs, amused. You keep the cover lifted to watch him put his mouth on you again.

You spread your legs further apart, arching your back as he tongues you, reaching every dip between your folds.

You put a hand in Rafe’s hair, feeling the softness of his locks between your fingers as his head moves slowly.

He’s absolutely devouring you. It’s unlike his usual speed and roughness. He’s savoring this.

You keep your gaze on him, euphoria filling every curve of your body. He tilts slightly to meet your gaze, blue eyes locked on you as he laps at you, long and slow.

His nose presses against your groin, the sound of him sucking you filling your bedroom. You run the heel of your palm over his head, caressing him, realizing this is the gentlest, most affectionate thing you’ve done to him.

You dart your gaze to the ceiling. You’re taken aback at your own tender gesture. Why you touching him like this? Like he’s someone you’re dating instead of casually fucking?

Because he cuddled you to sleep last night. That must be it. His big, warm, bare chest was pressed against your back, arms encircling you, legs tangled together as you dozed off. He acted like a boyfriend and not the fuck buddy he is. Your body is just confused, you tell yourself.

You shut your eyes and focus on the way his mouth is suckling and working you, sending waves of easy, soft satisfaction through you.

“You’re really good at that,” you breathe, almost wishing you wouldn’t cum so he’d do this for hours.

“I know, baby,” Rafe murmurs.

You know he’s being his usual cocky self, but the fact that he’s so skilled should serve as a reminder. He’s experienced. He fucks around. He wants to own you, but he never said anything about you owning him.

This is just fun, you tell yourself. Just fun with a nice monetary reward.

His lips lock on your clit, sucking harder. As his finger slowly sinks into you, tingles go up your legs.

“Rafe,” you breathe, bucking your hips.

“You like that?” he encourages. “My good fucking girl.”

The hand on your thigh grips you tighter as he adds a finger, curling into your pussy and pushing in and out of you.

The next time his mouth circles your clit, you know you’re close.

“Like that, like that,” you whimper.

“You gonna cum for me?” he teases. “You’re clenching around my fingers.”

He sucks your clit hard again and the climax rips through you. You feel yourself twitching as you cum on his mouth.

Rafe groans against you, licking and sucking until you’re so overstimulated that you have to squeeze your thighs and wiggle free.

“Can’t take how good it feels?” he asks, provoking.

“Fuck,” you laugh. You press your palms against your forehead, throwing your head back and breathing deeply. What a way to wake up.

“Get on your stomach,” he instructs. He sits up, the blanket falling off of him. He’s wearing what he fell asleep in: nothing but his briefs, his bulge jutting out beneath the fabric.

You find the strength to turn onto your front, the movement making you realize how sore your ass is from the way he pounded into it last night.

Your cheek is pressed against your pillow and his cock slides in through the valley where the backs of your thighs meet, pushing into your cunt. You inhale in unison at the sensation.

“Fuck, it’s like you…” Rafe rasps. “Like you were fucking made for me. So fucking perfect.”

You arch your back so that he can get inside as deep as possible.

His movements are slow and deep at first, but build into rough, sloppy thrusts, making your bed squeak.

The way Rafe fills you feels so damn good. If he wanted to spend all day in your bed, fucking you over and over again, you’d happily agree to it.

Rafe’s breaths get faster, his groans get deeper, and he empties himself inside of you with a shudder, his hand squeezing your hip so hard that it hurts.

You’re bruised there from last night, you realize.

You never like the feeling of him leaving your body, and thankfully, he doesn’t do it just yet. Rafe simply lays on top of you, shifting a bit to the side so he’s not putting all of his weight on you.

His cheek is pressed against your shoulder blade. His hand on top of yours is directly at your eye-line as you rest on your pillow. You love those hands.

It’s Monday. You have class. You have to be a functioning person today. You don’t remember setting your alarm last night and you have no idea what time it is.

But you just started your morning by getting eaten out and fucked and Rafe’s warm, large body is shielding yours, so the idea of getting out of bed isn’t appealing in the slightest.

He’s still inside you.

You think back to last night, the way he fucked you from behind, how big his fingers around your neck and inside you were and how hard he slapped your ass.

“What’d I do to deserve you spanking me last night?” you ask.

“Poor baby,” he mocks. “Is your ass hurting? Need me to rub it?”

You feel him shift behind you, his hand sliding off of yours, palm going down your back and over the curve of your ass.

In the movement, his softening cock starts to slide out of you. You involuntarily let out a small, unhappy cry.

“What?” Rafe asks.

“Nothing,” you lie.

“Why are you whining?”

“Just… don’t like the feeling of you pulling out,” you admit.

“Oh, my God, so needy,” he jeers. “Wish you could have my dick in you all day, huh?”

You don’t deny it.

To your pleasure, Rafe lies back down, pushing the rest of himself into you again.

“You deserved getting spanked because you drive me fucking crazy,” he drawls. His hand rubs big circles on your naked ass.

“It’s not my fault you want me so bad.”

“Yeah, it is,” he mutters.

You finally find the will to pick your phone up from the nightstand.

You see that you’ll need to leave your place soon if you want to make it to your first class. But you’ll make it as long as your shower is quick.

You open your text conversation with Rafe, holding your phone low so he can’t see what you’re doing.

“Might wanna check your phone,” you say quietly.

You don’t want him to pull out of you, but it’s inevitable. He gets up with a grunt, making you feel incomplete without him inside you. You look over your shoulder when he’s lying down again, phone held out.

The phone looks so small in his hand. God, when did a man’s hands have such an effect on you?

Rafe smirks at his screen, turning it towards you.

“Watch this,” he says. You see the $50 request you just sent him, your text “for spanking me” right below it. He taps his thumb on ‘Reject.’

“You asshole,” you laugh. Then the top of the screen catches your eye. He has you saved as ‘princess’ and the contact photo is the booty pic you sent him yesterday.

“Rafe, that is unhinged,” you say, pointing to the photo. “You have to be joking. What if someone sees that picture?”

“Lucky them.”

You can’t help but laugh. At least this reminds you of what you are to him: a piece of ass. You officially push away the hope that you’re anything more. And a part of you even wishes he doesn’t do something sweet like staying overnight to keep you warm again. If he continues playing his horny sugar daddy role, and does no boyfriend shit like that again, the hope can never come back.

It’s better to be realistic.

“I have to go,” you complain, pushing yourself up. You turn to sit, your feet touching your floor, stretching your arms above your head, with your back to Rafe.

“Don’t do too much today,” he says. You turn, watching him pull his underwear on.

“What are you planning to do to me this time?”

He turns his lean frame to look down at you, his tongue jutting under his cheek in a way you can only describe as utterly mischievous.

“I’m gonna try to make you squirt.”

Your cheeks flood with warmth. This man is going to destroy you.

“’I’ve never done that before,” you say.

“Doesn’t mean you can’t.” Rafe hikes up his jeans and collects his shirt off the floor. “And if any guy can do it for you, it’s the one with the best cock you’ve ever had.”

“I regret telling you that,” you tease.

He bends over your small bed, pressing his palm to your cheek. His eyes travel over your face, smirking, looking like he’s imagining all the things he’s going to do tonight.

“See you tonight, princess.”

He leaves, and you’re still trying to catch your breath.

Your day of classes is tiring, your body still sore and reeling from Rafe having his way with you. You barely make it home for the maintenance guys to fix your radiator.

You sit in your kitchen, trying to study as they clang their tools and talk to each other in your bedroom.

It takes them two hours, finishing up in the evening. After they leave, you savor in the feeling of a warm room, Rafe’s money having solved one of your most expensive problems. It’s so simple, but so nice.

You lie in your bed just to rest your eyes.

You’re suddenly startled awake. Your room is pitch black and a slamming on your front door makes your heart pound in your chest.

You sit up, trying to gauge your surroundings. You check your phone to see it’s half past ten and you have three missed calls and a string of texts from Rafe.

Another sequence of pounds on the front door erupts. It must be him.

You rush to your front door and look through the peephole to confirm it’s Rafe, his jaw clenched in anger. You missed your nightly appointment. He seems pissed. Excitement bubbles inside you.

You crack open the door, meeting his eyes. He shakes his head at you, nostrils flared, and he pushes his way into your dark apartment.

Rafe slams the door behind him, hand roughly grabbing your face, squeezing your cheeks together, your lips jutting out.

“Where the hell were you?” he demands, looking down at you.

“Fell asleep?” you say weakly. He’s fuming - he likes to feel like he owns you and today, his personal pornstar didn’t obey him.

“I pay you to get in front of that camera on time.”

“You’re mad,” you tease, a smile uncontrollably growing on your lips. “Are you gonna punish me?”

Rafe tightens his grip on your face and you rest your hands on his firm forearms, feeling him pull up, beckoning you onto the tips of your toes. You’re already soaked.

“I’m going to fuck you in every hole,” he mutters, “and you’re fucking dreaming if you think you’re cumming tonight.”

“What?” you plead. “You said tonight, we’d try-“

“You think you deserve that?” he interrupts. He releases you, pushing you back. “Get in your fucking room. Go.”

You obey, feeling Rafe’s hand between your shoulder blades, pushing you into the space. He turns the light on behind you, surely wanting to see every inch of you while he makes you pay for flaking on him.

You hear his belt unbuckling behind you and he presses up against you, his cock hard between your asscheeks.

“Get naked,” he instructs. You bend to pull down your pants, take off your top, and strip entirely bare.

Rafe sits at the edge of your bed, palming himself over his briefs, his eyes locked on yours.

“Crawl to me,” he says. You drop to your knees, obeying him, stopping once your head is between his legs. He pulls his briefs down, his cock swollen.

You don’t need him to tell you the next instruction. You eagerly put your hand at his base and your mouth over his tip, spitting on the head.

“Yeah, get it really fucking wet,” he mutters. “You’re gonna choke on it.”

He groans when you close your lips around him, cheeks hollowing. You imagine him sitting on his bed tonight, waiting for you to log in, his dick hard and getting no attention, growing angry when you weren’t showing up.

You’ve never felt so craved by somebody before.

Rafe puts his hand on the back of your head and pushes you down to take all of him, hitting the back of your throat, triggering your gag reflex.

“That’s what you fucking get,” he tells you. You look up at him, eyes trailing up his toned stomach and up to his face. He looks so pissed off and so horny all at the same time. You squeeze your thighs together.

“Do I have to do it myself?” he scoffs, tugging at your roots and pulling you back.

“No, I can do it,” you say, muffled against his cock. You push back down, taking him all in, back curling as you gag on his slick length.

You grip him and start bobbing, moving your fingers off every time you reach his base, lips flanged around him.

“Faster,” he orders. You pick up your pace, spit dribbling out of your mouth, prompting you to slurp up the mix of saliva and precum.

“Fuck…” he groans. He pulls you off his dick, your lips popping off him. “Suck on my balls.”

You hungrily push his cock up, digging your head between his legs to put your mouth on his soft flesh, slurping.

“Shit,” he breathes out of pleasure. You feel proud of yourself for making him forget how angry he was so quickly.

Until you realize it wasn’t that easy.

His hand frames your face again, pads of his fingers digging into your cheeks, stopping you.

“On your back,” he says. “Right there, on the floor.”

You’re trembling as you shift back, laying on the hard floor, spreading your legs for him. He gets down to hover over you, his cock in his hand.

Rafe taunts you, bouncing the tip against your clit. Your body jolts at the feeling.

“You’re not gonna cum,” he warns you. “I know how this pussy feels when you’re close and I’ll stop.”

“Rafe,” you beg. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I swear, I-”

He plunges into you, cutting you off, his hips immediately hitting yours as he bottoms out. You throw your head back as he tears into you, his girth forcing you apart.

He thrusts hard and fast, fully rage-fucking you, taking his anger out with every move, and it’s the hottest thing he’s ever done to you.

“You want me to call you a good girl, don’t you?” he asks.

“I am a good girl,” you shudder, knowing it’s not true, saying it only so he’ll fuck you harder.

“No, you’re fucking not,” he laughs. You look down to see the way his cock is disappearing into you over and over again.

The tension in your gut is coiling tighter. You try not to make it obvious that you’re close to cumming, keeping your eyes low. But your body betrays you. The second your walls start to flutter around him, he pulls out.

“You’re not cumming,” he says. “I already fucking told you.”

This is not the Rafe who cuddled you to sleep last night. This side of him, the insatiable, animalistic side, is simple and only wants one thing. It’s so intoxicating being used by him.

“Ass up,” he says. You know he’s about to fulfill his promise of fucking you three different ways and you can’t wait.

You’re shaking as you spread your knees as much as you can, waiting on all fours, feeling his thumb pad rub up and down over your asshole.

“Can you take it without the lube?” Rafe asks.

This is the bullshit that makes you worry you’ll start liking him. Why can’t he just fuck you how he wants without worrying that he’ll hurt you? It’d be so much easier to not like him if he was cruel and selfish all the time.

“Do it,” you whisper depravedly, frustrated that your thoughts are getting carried away.

He pushes into your asshole, making you cry out in discomfort. The pressure stings as he fills you and you instinctually dart forward, your body trying to prevent any more pain.

“It’s hurting you,” he realizes, quickly pulling out.

“Rafe, just keep going,” you say, looking down at the floor. “Please.”

He buries into you again and you bite your lip hard. He starts to pound into you, balls hitting your pussy, hands gripping your hips.

You let out guttural moans with every pump, praying it’ll end, yet at the time, wishing he won’t cum for another hour. It’s such a good hurt.

Your elbows weaken and you collapse, pressing your forearms onto the hard floor. Your knees are burning in pain, your asshole strained, and tears start to leak out of your eyes as he thrashes mercilessly.

Rafe’s cock starts to spasm inside you, and after one last powerful thrust, you feel his hot, sticky cum flood you. His groan is the deepest, sexiest noise you’ve ever heard from him.

He trembles through some aftershocks, like he wants to give you every drop, then pulls out of you. You go limp, eyes shut, lids against your forearm.

You’re panting hard, sweat sheening your skin, and drop to your side, completely fucked out.

You feel his cum drip down the curve of your ass.

“Get up,” he says. You can’t.

Suddenly, his hands cup your waist, pulling you up.

“Come on,” Rafe says quietly. “Get up.”

You find your footing and he guides you to your bed. You’re a trembling mess as you lie down, curling onto your side, eyes closed, tears hot.

You can’t control the sniffle that shakes through you.

“Whoa, you’re…” he whispers.

You open your eyes to see him sitting over you, his face flushed. You find the strength to pull the comforter up to your eyes, hiding them as you nuzzle into your pillow.

“Hey,” he half-whispers. “You’re crying.”

“I’m just tired,” you say with a defeated laugh.

The room is quiet until you feel the mattress shift, its springs squeaking. Rafe settles behind you and you’re cold for a moment as he lifts the sheet off you. But then it’s on you again, his body curving around you, the comforter covering both of you.

You feel his hand come down your waist, your stomach, your thighs. He starts to gently rub between your legs.

He already told you that he wouldn’t let you orgasm, so you know he’s doing this to continue the torment.

Still, you shift onto your back, spreading your legs open for him, eyes closed as you breathe through the sensation of the pads of his fingers spreading your lips apart to fondle your clit.

You feel Rafe move over you, holding one of your breasts to close his mouth around your nipple. You shudder at the bliss he’s offering you, even though you’re painfully aware that he won’t let you reach your peak.

His fingers move expertly while his tongue flicks up and down and side to side, covering your nipple with his spit.

The stimulation of both his hand and his mouth makes the tightening in your stomach come quickly, and as you arch your back and start to breathe shallower, you’re surprised that his hand moves faster and his mouth sucks harder.

You moan as the orgasm hits you and he rubs you throughout the entire climax. Once you let out a final sigh, you open your eyes.

Rafe’s head rests on the pillow when he comes back up. He’s looking at you with half-closed lids, lying beside you.

“I thought…” you say, a smile pulling on your lips. He knows what you mean. You thought he wasn’t going to let you cum.

“Changed my mind.”

You know you’re not in the right headspace when you wonder if he did that out of guilt for fucking you so hard that he made you cry. That that was his special way of apologizing. But this is Rafe. It can’t be that. He’s simply enjoying keeping you in his control.

“I might miss our sessions more often if this is what happens,” you say breathily.

“Don’t,” he warns.

“I’ve never seen someone so angry,” you tease.

Rafe turns his head, looking up at the ceiling. You see his jaw tighten, clearly recalling how pissed off he was at you.

“I didn’t know where you were,” he said.

“I was right here in my freaking bed, Rafe,” you laugh. “Dead asleep.”

“No, it’s…” His brows furrow. “Some guys came to fix the heat today, right? And you were here all alone and…”

Realization hits you all at once.

“You were… worried they did something to me?” you ask. “And that’s why I didn’t show up?”

Rafe just shakes his head in disbelief again, mouth firming. You watch him in awe. Was that what got him so worked up?

You picture him at home, getting angrier with every minute you were late, and then the possibility of something like that happening to you suddenly popping in his mind, making him go batshit.

“Rafe,” you say with a small smile, genuinely endeared he was concerned about you.

He sits up, looking at you with an angry grimace.

“Why the fuck are you acting like it’s funny?” he snaps.

“I’m not,” you say softly. “I’m-”

“Next time you say you’re gonna be somewhere, be there,” he states coldly.

You feel like you have whiplash. You were just having fun with him. Now that you brought up why he came over in such a frenzy, he’s pissed off again?

Rafe stands, giving you a view of his naked body as he rounds your bed and picks up his briefs. He doesn’t make eye contact with you when he pulls his jeans on or puts on his shirt.

He doesn’t say a word as he storms out of your room. You simply hear your front door open and shut.

You’re left lying in bed, jarred over what just happened.

Working at the Cameron household, you caught little glimpses of the family’s home life and have heard your fair share of Rafe’s yelling. You knew he had a temper to him. But the way he just left, mood shifting so suddenly, is still shocking.

You don’t hear from Rafe the rest of the night. Or the next morning. Or afternoon. You’re not sure if he’s giving you the silent treatment or simply doesn’t feel the need to talk to you unless you’re fucking or you have a camera facing your half-naked body.

You sit on your bed at 10 pm, laptop open, unsure if he’ll even show up tonight. And if he doesn’t, what’s it going to be like when you go to your shift at the estate tomorrow?

But then you hear the familiar chime.

figure8 has joined the session.

“Hi,” you say, breaking the silence in your bedroom. “You still mad at me, baby?”

He doesn’t respond.

“I’m sorry,” you purr, pouting. You sit up, pulling your panties up tight, making sure he sees the outline of your lips under the silk. “Are we gonna try to make me squirt or no? I’m gonna need your help.”

figure8 tipped you $1000.

figure8: stay just like that. im coming over

{ read part seven here }

[togrowoldinv]

Say That You’ll Hold Me Forever

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Natasha holds you close after a rough day

Note: Very soft Nat. Needed this today, so I hope you enjoy it if you needed it too.

Natasha Masterlist 1, Natasha Masterlist 2, Natasha Masterlist 3, Main Masterlist

Natasha comes home to a quiet house. You usually have music playing or at least the tv on. She frowns as she treks through the house looking for you.

She finally finds you lying in the bed with your eyes closed. Nat can tell you’re not asleep, so she walks to you. She sits on the edge of the bed.

“Hey, detka,” she says softly.

You open your eyes to be met with green ones full of love and understanding.

“Are you feeling okay?” She asks, placing the back of her hand on your forehead. She notes that you don’t feel warm.

“Just had a bad day, that’s all,” you tell her.

Natasha nods. She understands. She slips off her shoes and lays in the bed next to you. Really, she’s on top of you.

Her strong arms wrap around you and hold you close. You melt into her embrace. No matter what happens, you know as long as you have her that you will be okay. You can feel that in the way she holds you.

After a while, Natasha shifts you in her arms and speaks again. “Can I do anything to make it better or do we just need to wait this one out?”

“This helps,” you say, referring to her holding you.

“I’m glad, sweetheart,” she says, kissing your head. “Would dinner from your favorite place help too?”

“Hm, maybe. And dessert?”

“Obviously,” Nat jokes. She makes a move to get up and order the food, but you stop her. “Yes?”

“Just please hold me a little longer first?”

"Of course, y/n. I’ll hold you forever.”

Natasha doesn’t let go of you for the rest of the night. You feel better with each second that passes.

Nothing can truly ever get you down when you have her. It will always be like this.

[papayadays]

🎻 74 + alex or oscar (whoever you think fits best!)

a/n: oh i loved writing this ☺️ soft domestic oscar my beloved (i was torn between alex and oscar, but ultimately choose oscar. can you tell i have a mclaren bias? 😵‍💫)

74 - this is what forever feels like by jvke & nick jonas

“love?” you glanced up upon hearing oscar’s voice, seeing him walk towards you, rubbing his eyes. it was darker than usual since you hadn’t bothered turning the lights on, opting to light some candles instead. “what are you doing?” it was one in the morning, and you had decided to head to the kitchen after you woke up, not wanting to bother oscar and not tired enough to go back to sleep.

“sorry to wake you up,” you apologized. “i just couldn’t fall back asleep. don’t worry about me, you can go back to sleep.” you turned your attention back to the hot chocolate you were making, but oscar didn’t budge. “osc?”

“i’ll just wait here with you,” he said groggily. “can’t really sleep without you.” you chuckled, a fond smile on your face.

“well, it’s a good thing i made extra,” you said quietly. as you added marshmallows, you could feel oscar’s gaze on you from here he was leaning against the island.

you handed oscar a mug, who gave you a soft, “thank you.” instinctively, you two lifted up your mugs for a silent toast.

“your hot chocolate is always so good,” oscar murmured, taking a long sip.

“it’s just normal hot chocolate,” you laughed, leaning against his shoulder. oscar’s arm reached out, wrapping around your waist and pulling you to his side.

when you two finished and set your mugs down, you took oscar’s hands. “dance with me,” you suggested, though oscar wasn’t convinced.

“why? it’s one in the morning, sweetheart,” he protested, though you both knew he would cave eventually. “and there’s no music.” you grabbed your phone, the light casting a soft glow on your face.

“that can be easily solved,” you said, opening your spotify playlist and hitting shuffle. a slow, relaxed song came on - you were pretty sure it was by jvke and a jonas brother - and again, you reached for oscar’s hands.

until we’re seventy, dancing with me

this time, however, he let you lead him to an open area in the entryway between the kitchen and dining room. the lyrics of the song wove into the moment, as the flickering candlelight made oscar look perfect. you wrapped your arms around his neck, feel his told tighten around your waist as you two swayed to the song.

just passing the time, with you right by my side

you felt oscar rest his chin on your shoulder as he pulled you impossibly closer. “this is a pretty good way to waste our time,” he mumbled, the vibrations from his chest reaching you.

just stay with me, promise you’ll never leave

“is it a waste of time?” you countered with a sleepy smile. “because i rather like this, us dancing for no reason.”

oscar nodded into your hair, pressing a gentle kiss. “you’re right, it’s totally productive work,” he deadpanned, making you snort.

“exactly,” you agreed, running with his joke as oscar twirled you around. despite the odd hour, you were happy to just be here with oscar, even if it meant less sleep.

i wanna love you for the rest of my life, until we’re seventy

joyce's birthday bash! 😽

[igotanidea]

five more minutes: Dick Grayson x fem!reader

I'm (not) sorry, but that smug face fits right into this fanfiction!!

request/summary: Dick getting clingy when the reader needs to go somewhere

A/N: so, I think I'm back? Two weeks break and I'm getting into the swing of things again, so please go easy on me with this story......

***

When she wakes up in the morning something seems off almost instantly.

It only takes a second to realise that said thing took the form of Dick Grayson, her beloved boyfriend, the man by day and the fearless vigilante by night. The protector of Gotham and its people.

Well, if only the people could see him now.

Sleeping in a weird position with the imprint of the pillow on his cheek, messy hair and some dried saliva in the corner of his mouth.

He so cute and adorable like that. Y/N does the quick scan of his face and body in the search for any injuries he might have obtained during the patrol but her heart rests easy when she noticed him being all in one piece with no blood or stiches. Either it was a quiet and peaceful night or he already took care of himself. Her bets are the latter, but since it’s work day she doesn’t really have any time to wait until he wakes up to blame him for not being careful.

As quiet and swift as she can, Y/N tries to move out of bed, but since Dick’s senses are heightened she doesn’t really get far, when his arms wraps around her, keeping her in place.

“Dick……” she mutters

“Mhmmmm……” he mumbles into the pillow

“Come on, I have get  up!”

“no you don’t.”

“I gotta get to work!”

“I’m the only work you need……” he grins, still half-asleep, but so full of himself and she almost rolls her eyes at the joke

“God, please stop…. I need to earn money you know? Not all of us have a billionaire daddy!”

“You’re dating the billionaire oldest son, isn’t that enough?”

She wonders for a moment. On a second thought maybe it is. Dick seems to use that heartbeat of hesitation, shifting his body weight on her, pinning her to bed, his eyes still closed, but this little shit knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Dick!” she gasps feeling all those muscles crush her “shit!

“I like it when you call my name in such a desperate words. Do it just one more time and the neighbours will hate you forever.” He chuckles and his makes her skin tingle.

You’re heavy…..” she squirms trying to break free, but it’s no use. “You brought it on yourself….” The girl mutters poking on his ribs in the place where he’s extremely sensitive because of an old injury.

“Hey!” he yells, trying to defend himself and letting go off her in the process.

Y/N is quick to jump out of bed and rush towards her wardrobe, grabbing her jeans and t-shirt and struggling to put them on.

“Not so fast!” Dick tears her clothes from her hands and holds them high out of reach.

“Not fair Grayson!”

“You called me fat.”

“I called you heavy!’

“Same thing!”

“It’s not….. You know what, fine. I’ll just wear something else….” She shrugs and runs towards the drawer, but before she could reach it Dick grabs her from behind and holds her tight to him

“Dick…….” She whines stretching out just to grab something to wear. Anything.

“I know. I’m irresistible.”

“A pain in the ass is what you are!”

“I can make you breakfast….” He tempts

“You’re not Jason, Dick. Making me breakfast means putting cereals In the bowl and poring some milk over it in your dictionary. Cold milk. And that is only if I bought both cereals and milk.”

“did you?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“Can’t you see how hard I’m trying? Just for you. Come on, you are like an employee  of the month. Or even a year. Stay…..” he kisses her neck playfully “you can call in sick.”

“I used all my sick days because of you.”

“How about casual leave?”

“and what may be the emergency?” she sighs in defeat, her body going limp as she drops the fighting knowing well enough she won’t win it. “Clingy boyfriend?”

“You called me boyfriend!” he grins again and she facepalms herself.

“We’ve been together for a year Dick. Why do you seem surprised?”

“I could never get bored with hearing that word from you. Makes me proud that you’re mine.”

“trying to sweet talk me? Won’t work. By the way, you are soooooo cheesy Grayson.”

“And?” he asks

“ And? What and?”  at this point Y/N is confused, her eyebrows furrowing as she turns to meet his gaze

“And you love me?” he insist, spinning her around in his arms so that he can get easy access to her kissable face.

“Yeah…..” she smiles dreamily “yeah, I do love you, you idiot” she trails with a love sick puppy expression. But it doesn’t mean I’m gonna stay and be you babysi…..ah! Put me down!” she yells suddenly feeling her body lift of the ground without her knowledge or will. “Put me down Grayson! What are you……?! Damn it…!”

Dick does not listen or does not get impressed by her poor attempts to break free. He’s Nightwing. He’s got so many ways to immobilise the opponent. Or, in this case, lover.

“Dick I swear I am going to kick your ass if you don’t….!” the threat dies on her lips as he throws her onto the mattress and kisses her softly shutting her up in the process.

“Stay?” he pouts looking at her with those pretty doe eyes “Pretty please?”

“You act like a five year old!”

“A five year old that wants you. A five year old that misses you…”

“I’ll be back, you know……” she brush the strand of hair from his face. She’s already gone but still tries to keep the appearances.

“Yeah, at 6 p.m. or later. It’s almost the time when I get ready for my night shift…… Please…..”he whines nuzzling his nose over her neck “stay…..”

“please…..” she mimics his whining, caressing his cheek “let me go……”

“But I need you…….” He hide his face in her belly and his hair tickle

“Why do you always need me when I am supposed to go to work?’

“It’s a terrible and uncontrollable disease…..” he laughs

“Is there a cure?” she laughs back

“I can think of something….” He closes the gap between them, nibbling on her bottom lip. “and it may be working…. But I;m not sure. Need some more testing” he repeats his action. “Mhm, yes, it’s definitely working… You don’t want me to be sick, do you?”

“Not really. You are whiny and attention seeker when you are sick.”

“I am not!” he shouts in denial “ok, maybe I am. A little. But come on, you can stay some more time with me……”

“How long, dickie?” she smiles at him, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“five more minutes?”

“ok. Five more minutes. She sighs deeply, letting go of any of her objections, letting Dick lay beside her and act like a big spoon, while holding her tight to his chest and caressing her sides and belly.

“You’re not letting me go, are you?” she whispers closing her eyes and getting lost in his touch.

“Never.”

And she’s pretty sure she can live with that.  

[vixstarria]

Are you mine?

So I was initially going to do maybe 500 words worth of them being cute and cuddly, but then this happened. I have no control at this point, I am just the messenger. 

Astarion x F!Reader, Astarion x Tav, Astarion x Bard Tav, soft Astarion, Astarion POV 

Mostly fluff and comfort with a bit of hurt (Astarion’s past recollections), basically just pillow talk, cuddling, banter, non-explicit, no spoilers 

Very late Act 1 / early Act 2 (pre-confession). I’ve already written past this point earlier, but I think it’s such a fun time to return to for anything flirty, with Astarion being in love but being pissed off and / or in denial about it.  

Approximately 2,000 words 

AO3

Being able to get by with little sleep was both a blessing and a curse. In no time at all you were ready to take on whatever the day would throw at you. You were rested, alert, ready for battle. The downside? The amount of time you had to spend alone with your thoughts.   

You weren’t fully alone, not exactly. You laid on your side with your nose buried in her neck, one of your arms underneath the pillow, the other wrapped around her, your leg following the bend of hers like you were chasing her warmth, bare skin on bare skin, your bodies filling each other’s nooks so perfectly.  

You could have been up and doing something useful, you supposed, but you didn’t want to waste a precious second of being able to just hold her. 

You winced and sighed, having caught yourself on that thought.  

Pathetic idiot... 

The truth was, you knew you were living on borrowed time.  

Oh you toyed with the idea of amassing more tadpoles for more powers and seeing how long and how far you could take this, but in your heart of hearts you knew this was a lunatic idea. The absolute best-case scenario was that one way or another, the tadpole would be removed from your brain, removing all its benefits alongside it. 

Then, you would spend the rest of your eternal life in the shadows, forever looking over your shoulder in fear of being dragged back to Cazador.  

You would never see the sun again.  

You would probably never see her again.  

Suddenly feeling choked up, despite not really even needing to breathe, you pressed your lips against the small of her neck, pausing then landing a few more small, soft kisses along her shoulder. 

She stirred and rolled over onto her stomach, looking at you with a knowing smile through her mess of hair. 

Shit. 

“Oh... I thought you were asleep,” you said. 

“I know...” she replied, stretching lazily. “You only kiss me like that when you think I’m sleeping.” 

So many implications in that statement. Your mind immediately churned out a dozen ways to respond, deflecting, denying, joking or otherwise brushing it off. But you wanted to see where leaning into it might take you.  

“Do I..? Here, I’ll fix that.” 

You leaned toward her, placing a soft kiss on her lips. Just your lips brushing against hers, petal-soft. She closed her eyes and hummed in pleasure as you trailed your lips further along her skin, leaving featherlight kisses from the corner of her mouth further up the side of her face.  

You were careful to keep the kisses tender rather than sensual. Not something you were accustomed to, at all. She smiled and squirmed a little as your lips dipped below her jawline near her earlobe. 

“That tickles...” she murmured, making you chuckle.  

“My sweet girl,” you whispered, nuzzling her ear. 

Ugh, where in the hells did that come from..? you thought, startled. 

She noticed. Of course she noticed. 

She shifted onto her side, propping herself up with an elbow and resting her head on her hand.  

“Am I? Yours?” There it was again, that knowing, quizzical look.  

“Are you not?” you asked.  

“Hmm... How can I tell?” 

“Isn’t it obvious?” you flashed her a roguish grin, which she ignored. 

“Should it be? Is there something you’ve done to claim me as yours?” 

Her words might have stung, had her tone not been so playful rather than mocking. She was encouraging, not denying you.  

I don’t suppose she’s going to count all the unspeakable things we’ve done to each other. I guess I wouldn’t either. 

“Is that what you want me to do?” you asked, slowly tracing a finger down her arm.  

“That depends... Do you want me to be yours?” 

This conversation was idiotic. Why was it making you increasingly giddy? 

“Come now, we have been doing this for how long? Are we really going to be coy about whether or not we like each other?” you asked, trying to sound assured rather than flustered.  

She leaned forward, as if to reveal a secret for your ears only. 

“That’s not quite what we’re being coy about, now is it?” she whispered, before placing a lingering kiss on your lips.  

You were completely out of your depth in this kind of flirting, if one could call it that. Concentrating on the physical and sexual, dropping innuendos, hinting at promises you had no intention of keeping, teasing, arousing, adding in just the right amount of vulgarity to otherwise honeyed words to make them blush and stammer in trepidation... That you could do all day as an afterthought, all while mulling over something you had read earlier, or otherwise being a thousand leagues away with your thoughts.  

But this... It was like she was playing with and delicately caressing your innermost, rawest feelings, all whilst inviting you to do the same with hers. Sex was barely even a consideration. This was an entirely different dance. And it was exhilarating. 

Before you could think of what to say, she moved on. 

“You know, Lae’zel propositioned me earlier,” she said, briefly burying her face in her hands and shaking her head with a quiet, incredulous laugh.  

“She did what? ...And how did that go?” 

“It was very... Lae’zel. I wasn’t sure whether she was offering to kill me or fuck me at first. I had to politely decline.” 

“And you didn’t tell me?” you frowned. 

“Should I have?” She studied you with a curious look, resting her chin on her hands. “How would it make you feel? If I accepted her offer?”  

Like the whole world was pulled out from beneath my feet. Again. 

“You and Lae’zel? Hmm. Sounds like something I’d pay to watch.” 

“That’s not what I asked.” Her eyes seemed to be piercing straight into your soul. You had to quickly do a double-take on whether your tadpole might have been betraying anything to hers, before rebuking yourself. She wouldn’t pry like that.  

Your eyes roamed around the tent as you tried to assemble some words that weren’t too far from or too close to the truth. 

“Lae’zel is... exotic. Far be it for me to stand between anyone and such an... ‘outlandish’ experience. But I would prefer to have you all to myself, if it’s all the same to you. I don’t devote all that time to making sure that pretty head of yours stays on your shoulders just to have Lae’zel decapitate you in her throes of passion.” 

“That’s still not what I asked, but I’ll let it slide,” she rolled her eyes. “Getting a straight answer from you is like trying to seduce a blushing maiden.” 

“A riveting challenge?” 

“A tiresome one. That’s most likely not worth the effort.” 

How many blushing maidens have you seduced?   

“Alright, fine, I admit I might be a bit jealous. ...On top of being concerned for your wellbeing, darling.” 

“Just a bit jealous?” she teased. 

“Matters of honour would demand that I challenge her to a duel,” you sighed. 

“You have no honour. And she would crush you.” 

“I know. But I would die a hero’s death. Songs about me would live through the ages. ...You might need to write them for me.” 

“Sure, right after I wrote songs about how I conquered a githyanki,” she snorted. “Or perhaps songs about being conquered by one myself? I could spin it either way. Which do you think would stir more loins?” 

“I don’t know and my own loins are taking no part of this. Now are you going to keep talking nonsense, or will you go back to sleep already?” 

“Why, so you can sneak more tender little kisses on me?” she laughed. 

You didn't really want her to fall back asleep. Talking with her kept your darker thoughts at bay. What you did want, was to feel her wrapped around you again. 

“You know what? If you’re not going to sleep, you may as well carry on with your business, and I’ll meditate sitting up for a change.”  

You snatched the blanket from her, making her exclaim a sharp “Hey!” as the cold mountain air touched her bare skin, and wrapped it around yourself, settling in a cross-legged position. Moments later, she was on your lap, facing you with her legs wrapped around your hips. Just as you anticipated. You smirked and accepted her in your blanket cocoon, wrapping an arm around her waist and holding her close as you kissed her. 

“So, my blushing maiden,” she said as she leaned away from you, slightly, stretching her arms around your neck and resting her forearms on your shoulders. “It seems I have you backed up against a wall. I won’t force you – do what you will with your virtue. But you must decide. Will you give in willingly? Or deny me, and spend the rest of your life wondering: what if?” She leaned in to whisper the last two words dramatically. “I will ask you again: do you want me to be yours?” 

You wondered if she had any idea how apt that comparison really was to how you felt. 

Or how eerily similar it was to some of the tactics you yourself employed when luring in your victims. Hells, even the words were almost identical to some of the ones you’ve used. To make them surrender with reckless abandon, throwing all caution to the wind, blinded by your promises. Cattle rushing happily to the slaughter. 

You knew all this. You’d seen it countless times. But just then, you also saw there was no malice in her eyes. Only something like hope that she was trying to mask with mischief.  

Wherever she was leading you, you wanted to follow.  

“Fine,” you said softly, looking into her eyes. “I do want you to be mine. And no, I don’t want to share you with anyone.” You felt oddly elated as the words left your mouth. “I’d feel compelled to dismember any hand that touched you, so to give me a fair chance at survival, could you stay away from Lae’zel? Please?” 

She grinned and grasped your face in her hands, pressing her lips against yours. 

“Good girl,” she purred, still grinning, earning herself a sharp pinch on her bottom, making her jolt before she continued. “This leads me to my next question: do you want to be mine?” 

There it was. The trap beyond the lure. You saw it clear as day. And still, you wanted to follow her. 

“Darling, after the past 200 years, I’m really not disposed to letting anyone else claim ownership of me”. You watched her smile falter, and you hurriedly continued before it turned to sadness or disappointment, or worse, pity, and spread to her eyes. “But I just might make an exception for you… If the offer is mutual.” You took one of her hands in yours. “So, are you? Mine?” you asked, placing a kiss on her knuckles.  

Who’s backed against a wall now? 

"Of course I am. As if you even needed to ask.” She touched her forehead against yours before placing another kiss on your lips. Did she have to sound so triumphant saying that? “I am yours and no one else’s. Now you say it.”  

Ah, still me. 

Still, you fought hard not to laugh as a feeling of relief spread warmly throughout your body. You hadn’t even noticed how tense you were. 

“Alright, alright...” You cleared your throat and held a dramatic pause before continuing. “You are mine and no one else’s.” 

She let out an exasperated growl and grabbed and twisted one of your nipples. You chortled even as you yelped, grabbing the offending hand and holding it behind her back. She immediately made another attempt with her other hand, which you also successfully intercepted, now holding both her arms behind her. Refusing to give up, she went for your shoulder with her teeth, with a maniacal giggle, as you laughed and tried to fend her off with your chin.  

“Yes, I’m yours, I’m yours, you feral wildcat! I’m yours... Only yours.” you declared hastily into her hair somewhere near her ear, as she calmed down. “I mean it. Now behave! I always ask before I bite, don’t I?” you said, releasing her arms. 

She attempted to glare at you, her eyes narrowed, but couldn’t keep her face straight and broke into a grin again.  

“Well... Look at us...” she drawled, placing her arms back onto your shoulders. “Snatched up onto the nautiloid with nothing but the clothes on our backs, and now we’ve each got a whole other person.” 

She looked so pleased and happy... Why..? This couldn’t last. No matter how much you wanted it to. …Could it..?  

You were falling, deeper and deeper. 

My love... My sweet, sweet love... Where are you taking me? 

~~~~~ 

Next in series - Gentle warding bond

Want more of these two? There’s more. Series master list. 

AO3

[hugs2doie]

hi sorry to bother you. Could you possibly do an nct dream scenario where they ask their s/o to scratch their back and their s/o is really sweet about it?

𖦹 nct dream + back scratches .

genre ! fluff. just fluff. :3

warnings ! none. it’s literally just fluff :3

mark ✮

overworked boy #1. def loves back scratches. hm i feel like he would be shy a bit about asking you for them, or he would just lay on top of you, with his head on your chest, knowing that, that’ll give you the clue to give him his back scratches <3 he absolutely melts. would probably hum and leave a few kisses/pecks on your collarbone as you do so, (not the dirty one you horny dogs !) just to let you know that he’s enjoying it. mark would also like if you talked about your day, he feels so relaxed when you scratch his back so his attention would be on you 100% (unless he feels a bit sleepy, then he’ll be falling asleep on you mid-talking 😭).

renjun ✮

blunt with it. “could you scratch my back?”. honestly i don’t think he’d be shy with it, like at all. he always wants you to know what he’s feeling: like doing, making, etc and he wants you to do the same, ‘cause if you gave him hints, he’ll ignore them ‘till you actually ask/do what you wanted, he wouldn’t act on something he isn’t sure about 🤷‍♀️ but back to the topic. back scratches help renjun fall asleep, so when he’s back from practice and all that, he’d be asking you to give him back scratches <3 like mark (and everyone else ngl) he’ll melt, but he would also love if you played with his hair. :3

jeno ✮

another shy boy !! but honestly sometimes he’d just ask you instead of beating around the bush 😭 however he doesn’t want to bother you so he’ll ask you when he sees that you’re completely free, even if you’re not even that busy. you’re on your phone, scrolling through insta cause you’re bored? jeno’s gonna wait! you’re watching TV but you’re spacing out? jeno’s gonna wait! i can go on forever but you get the idea. so when you’re finally free he’s gonna be like “back scratches…? i’ll also do that for you don’t worry!” poor boy doesn’t only want his needs to be prioritized :( when you agree (you better.) he’ll have a big smile on his face and rush to lay. he’d also would ramble about his day while you scratch his back.

haechan ✮

overworked boy #2. blunt #2. dude would cling to you like a koala and be like “back scratches, i need back scratches”. unlike jeno, haechan would not care even if you are in the middle of something important, you’re with him so you should prioritize him and him only! when you’d agree he’d either throw you over his shoulder or give you a piggy back ride to yall’s bedroom or sofa. he’d put you down first then lay tummy flat. would let out exaggerated moans (as a JOKE you horny dogs), but honestly those would mean that he’s enjoying it. would start talking about his day or random shows he’s been watching but he’d fall asleep. <3

jaemin ✮

so sweet goodbye. would come up behind you as you’re cooking, washing the dishes, idk anything, as long as you’re on your feet – would hug you from behind and while planting a few kisses on your neck/shoulder would ask you if you could give him back scratches, of course after you were finished with what you were doing. he would enjoy back scratches the most if he was sitting between your legs, his back facing you (obviously) and you giving him scratches. jaemin would absolutely melt if you would kiss his shoulders too. but he’s satisfied with anything you do <3 (p.s: he’d probably wake you up while scratching your back later that day.)

chenle ✮

either mr. zhong ‘my-ego-is-too-high’ chenle, or just mr. zhong ‘i-need-back-scratches-now’ chenle, it just depends on the day. hot take but he MIGHTTT get shy, but like not the shy shy, just hear me out omg. “could you like, like um y’know, scratch my back or smth?” LIKE SOMETHING LIKE THAT ... but anyways ! when you give him what he wants he’d love it, especially when the movie you two are watching is boring as hell, so he gets to fall asleep on top of you, with his arms and legs wrapped around you, head on the crook of your neck, and you scratching his back and playing with his hair <3

jisung ✮

i’ll eat him (lovingly). i feel like everything this man does, is done in tiny (even though he’s like 6 feet tall). anyways :3 ! he’d be shy but he’d still ask you (with his cutesy shy smile i’m done) ! i like to think that he lies besides you on his tummy and likes to watch something with you while you scratch his back. jisung doesn’t like when there’s silence, he feels awkward, so he also likes talking to you. but when he’s tired he doesn’t really have the energy to talk so 1) he’d listen to you talk and hum here and then, or 2) he’d listen to some music (obv some chill songs) in hopes to fall asleep. he’s just so cute i wanna bite his cheeks.

[sxxythingz]

Heat

Lo’ak Sully (22) x Human shifting reader (22)

Warnings: smut, p in v, oral (m receiving), cream pie, use of daddy (not much), aged up characters, cursing

Summary: you are in your shifted reality with Lo’ak, as normal, but this time is a little different as you get your first experience with him going through heat.

WC: 2.2K

🛑MDNI🛑

You follow Lo’ak around the forest while he easily moves from tree limb to tree limp as you attempt to keep up, but your legs can only take you so far. “Come on Y/n, can’t keep up?” He looks back at you while you struggle to catch your breath from running while he simply walks. “Oh shut it Lo’ak! My legs are only so long, thank you very much.” He shakes his head with a smile on his face as he walks back towards you, who is bent over with your hands on your knees panting.

“Just admit it. You want me to pick you up and carry you, don’t you?” He smirks as he looks down at you and you roll your eyes before laughing. “Just admit it. You want to pick me up and carry me, don’t you?” You respond back to him, retorting his question. He answers by wrapping his long arm around your waist and lifting you off of the ground, your legs wrapping around his torso automatically. “Better?” He asks you as he stares into your eyes. “Much better.” You respond as you lay your head on his shoulder and he chuckles before continuing to walk to his hut with you in his arms.

Once you get to his hut, he gently lays you down on his cot before he comes and lays next to you so that you two are face to face. His face looks a bit sweaty as he’s panting with a slight smile on his lips as he takes in every feature of your face. “Are you feeling ok? You're sweating and your face feels so hot my love.” You pick up on how different he looks as you feel his face. “I’m fine. You’re just so hot that you make me sweat.” You roll your eyes at his lame joke as a smile spreads on your lips.

“So if you were to go to sleep right now, would you wake up in your real life or here?” He asks you as his large hand grips your waist to pull you closer to him. “I don’t know Lo’ak. I’m more than sure that I would probably wake up in my real life but I wish I could stay here forever honestly. It’s way better than my reality.” You say back to him as he plays with your fingers, intertwining them with his own.

“It’s simple. Just stay asleep forever and there you go, problem solved.” He suggests making you laugh. “Well I definitely can’t do that baby. But I’ll always be here every single night to make sure that I see you.” You lean in giving him a kiss on his lips before drawing back and placing your forehead to his hot one. “Well maybe I can fuck you so good that you wake up with your legs sore.” He smirks at you, making you moan at his words as you go in for another kiss. Your lips touch his again as you feel his hand slither down your waist and grab the back of your thigh, pulling your legs onto him.

He bites your lip soft enough to not leave a mark, tugging at it as you push him to lay on his back before quickly hopping on top of him and grinding your hips down onto his. He grips your hips as he throws his head back groaning, which gives you the opportunity to bite and suck at his neck, leaving marks in every spot that you bite. He brings his face back down to yours and your lips connect like magnets as you move your hand to his loincloth, attempting to take it off but before you can he throws you off of him and onto the cot as he sits up.

“Shit.” He mumbles through his pants, looking straight ahead as you try to get his attention. “Lo’ak? What just happened?” You ask, making him finally look over to you, his eyes are a dark green color and he looks spaced out. “Y-you have to go. You have to wake up. I just realized what’s happening, I’m going into heat and I-I don’t want to hurt you, we can’t do this right now.” He tries to get up, but you push him back down, sitting on him once again as he grunts at the feeling of you sitting directly on his hard dick.

“Let me help you Lo. I can make it go away.” You protest as you pull at the string of his loincloth kissing all over his face, him inhaling sharp at the feeling of your lips on him as he places his hand over yours. “I-I can’t Y/n. I can’t control myself when I’m in heat and I can barely contain myself right now. I smell how wet you are and I’m about to fucking lose it.” He growls as he plops his head back onto his cot. You don’t say anything back, instead standing up to peel your shorts and shirt off leaving you in your bra and panties as he watches you intensely.

You get on the cot in between his legs this time as you slowly crawl up to him making sure to keep eye contact with him as you begin leaving a trail of kisses starting at his chest, down to his toned stomach, until you reach the top of his loincloth. You give a soft kiss to the print sticking out through the loincloth, earning a loud moan from him, as you pull at the string completely untying the knot and tossing the cloth on the ground. His hard length flopping onto his stomach as precum drips from the tip down to his stomach as he hisses at the feeling of freedom.

“Let me taste your cum, my love.” You grip his pulsating dick into your hand as you lift it and lick the precum from his stomach first, then from the tip as he bucks his hips. “Fuck! Don’t tease, baby. I need to feel that pretty little mouth on my dick.” You chuckle at his impatience before you leave small pecks all over his dick. “Be patient baby. I’m going to take care of you, I promise.” Without warning, you slip half of his huge dick into your mouth, moaning at the taste as his mouth gapes open.

You bob your head up and down, attempting to take his entire length in each time that you come back down but you never make it to the bottom. “You suck my dick so good baby. You’re doing such a good job.” He praises you as he grabs your hair, helping you go down further onto him, pushing your head all the way making you cough on his dick as he curses under his breath. He lets go of your head and you quickly come up for air as you pant, a string of your spit dangling from your lip to his dick.

“Get on your fucking knees right now.” He demands and you get off of the cot, sinking down on your knees as he stands in front of you, teasing your lips with the tip of his dick. “Open your mouth baby. I want to fuck that pretty face of yours.” You open your mouth wide as he slips his dick back in, grabbing the back of your head as he pulls you to him until he touches the back of your throat, making you gag. “Just like that. Look at you taking my dick so well like the good girl that you are.” He throws his head back as he fucks your face, tears forming in your eyes but you’re enjoying every minute of it.

“Fuck! I’m gonna c-cum yawne.” He tells you as he pulls out of your mouth, stroking himself. “Mouth open, tongue out now.” You follow his orders as you open your mouth and stick your tongue all the way out, closing your eyes. You feel his cum landing on your tongue and the sides of your mouth as he groans loudly. Once he finishes, he squats down to see you eye to eye and he grabs your chin with your tongue still out. “Swallow.” You put your tongue back in your mouth, letting the taste of his cum consume your throat as it goes down. He takes his thumb, collecting the rest from the corners of your mouth and bringing it into your mouth to swallow before you stick your tongue back out to show him.

“Good girl. Now, get back on the cot on all fours baby.” His voice creates a pool in your panties as you stand back up and sway over to the cot, immediately getting on your knees and hands as he comes behind you to rip your panties off of you, leaving your bottom half bare. “Who made you this wet, hm? Is this all for me?” He asks you as he collects the slick onto his fingers, dragging them down your wet slit until he reaches your clit, rubbing circles around it as you moan. “Yes m-my love. It’s all f-for you.” You manage to get out through your moans as you hear him chuckle.

“Fuck, you smell so good. I can’t wait to fuck this little pussy of yours.” You feel him take his fingers away from you before he wastes no more time, plunging himself deep into you, making you let out a loud scream. “Shh, yawne. People will hear you. I know it’s good, but you’re gonna have to be a little bit more quiet.” He jokes, making you roll your eyes and open your mouth to stay something back, but he pounds into you hard making you lose your train of thought as you lay your head into the cot to prevent screaming.

He places both of his hands around your waist, helping him to bounce you back and forth on his dick as you both pant loudly. “Lo’ak… you feel s-so good.” You moan out as you reach down in between your legs to rub your clit, making him growl and snatch your hand away from you before grabbing your other arm and placing them both behind your back as you lay face down on his cot. “Did I tell you to play with yourself baby? You don’t get to touch yourself, only I do.” He gives a hard smack to your ass as he ruts into you, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as your mouth opens with interrupted moans slipping from your throat. “Lo’ak it’s too much! I can’t take it..” You finally manage to get out as you try your best to move away from him, but his grip on you gets tighter. “You’re gonna have to fucking take it baby. No running, just take it ok?” He growls out as he continuously hits the right spot with the perfect amount of force.

“Fuck Lo’ak, I’m gonna cum!” You squeal out as you meet his strokes halfways, grinding yourself against him. “Mhm, that’s right. Cum all over daddy’s dick baby. Let it all out on me.” Your legs begin to shake beneath you as you cum on him, while he grips your ass as he watches you. “Shit! You’re gripping onto me baby, I’m about to fucking cum!” He thrusts into you so hard that the force pushes you flat onto the cot as you feel his cum filling you up while he moans loudly in your ear.

You feel his dick pulsate inside of you before he takes a deep breath and pulls out of you, plopping down beside you on the cot and looking over to you. He notices how worn out you look as you notice that his yellow eye color returns, meaning his heat is over for now, the guilt crowding his face as he realizes what he did. “I’m so sorry Y/n. I couldn’t help myself, I shouldn’t have-“ You interrupt his sentence by grabbing his face and kissing him. “That was worth it. The next time you’re in heat, I want to be right here with you to endure it.” You smile hard as he wipes the sweat from your forehead.

“Do you happen to have 3 days to spare? That’s how long my heat is.” He asks, wishing you could be here permanently with him. “How about I come back here every single day to take care of your needs? But for now, I’ll be here as long as you need me to be.” You reassure him as you peck his lips once again. “Well you might be here for a while, yawne. And you won’t be needing this.” He smirks as he pulls you back on top of him, reaching behind you to unlatch your bra as it falls off of your shoulders and he tosses it to the ground with your clothes and panties, leaving you completely naked in front of him. He stares at your bare chest, his eyes slowly shifting back to a dark green color as his hands reach up to grope you.

“Ready for round 2?” He asks you as you moan before leaning down until your lips are inches away from his. You smirk as he brings his face closer to yours, desperate to feel your lips on his again but you quickly snatch back to tease him as he groans.

“Bring it on skxawng.”

A/N: I couldn’t sleep and I have been writing this for a few days, so I decided to just go ahead and post it. Also, this picture is literally everything to me and do you guys prefer when Lo’ak’s hair is in a ponytail or down? I prefer it down because I love the way that it hangs and the one in the front is just AHHH… but anywho, I hope you guys enjoy this one because I definitely enjoyed writing it!! 💖

[jexnkookie]

BTS: In the Secret (Idol! Jungkook x Reader) [Chapter 4]

Summary: Big Hit announces a new season of In the Soop with a twist; one lucky Army is going to join the members for an entire summer of filming, picked by a random poll. You were selected, and ready to have an amazing summer. But what happens when you win something else that's a bit more complicated; the heart of the group's maknae?

Rating: M (18+)

Chapter Warnings: None.

Tag List: @cassies-cookies @hoeinthehouse @jjeonjjk7 @kaitieskidmore97 @laylasbunbunny @leetha43 @rrosiitas @whoa-jo @1-in-abillion 

The rain tapped gently on the glass of the windows while Jungkook helped you position the large, chunky throw blanket you had brought so that you both could be under it. The room was dim, only lit up by the glow of the television and a lamp in the corner of the room. Your pale pink blanket was draped over Jungkook and yourself while you sat on the couch together, staring at the image of Robert Downey Jr. on the screen. 

There were so many things Jungkook wanted to do in this moment. He wanted to talk to you, to ask you if you had really slept in his sweatshirt all night just like he hoped. He wanted to touch your hand, which increasingly felt as though it had a magnetic pull, enticing his fingers to come closer and intertwine with yours underneath the cover of the blanket. He wanted to pull you in close to him every time he saw your eyelids start to become heavy, and encourage you to lay your head on him and rest. He wanted to know why you were so tired, and if, just maybe, you had stayed up all night thinking about him, too. Just the way he had thought about you. 

Forever an idealist romantic, but too nervous to do anything he fantasized about in his head, he settled for the peacefulness he felt. The rain outside. The blasts of the action movie on the screen. And your presence right next to him, that seemed to drown out all of it. 

“Hey, Jungkook?” You whispered. 

“Hm?” 

“I don’t want to fall asleep, because I really want to hang out with you.” You confessed, looking up at him. “But for some reason, I couldn’t sleep last night… So if I do fall asleep accidentally, I’m really sorry.” 

The smile he wore was warm and gentle, showcasing his dimples and beautiful eyes.

“It’s ok.” He whispered back. “I won’t be mad.” 

“Ok.” You smiled back. Jungkook could get lost in that smile, and he hoped to see it as often as he could. 

“Hey, Y/N?” He whispered, playfully mimicking you. 

“Hm?”  

“Who’s your favorite Marvel superhero?” He asked quietly, and you couldn’t help but grin bigger at his boyish charms. 

“Maybe… Iron Man?” You thought out loud. “He always makes me laugh. What about you?” 

“Black Widow, because she’s hot.” He teased, earning an exasperated eye roll. 

“Shut up, you’re such a guy.” You laughed, playfully ‘slapping’ his toned arm. “But, fine. If we’re going off of that, then my pick is Captain America.” 

“Really? He’s your pick?” Jungkook tsked, overtones of a pout lacing his voice. 

“He has America’s ass, Kookie. C’mon.” You joked. “Be serious.” 

You noticed a change in Jungkook’s features, as though they were somehow able to soften even more than usual. His eyes became even more light, gazing at you gently. His pink lips were still upturned in a smile, and his dimples ever present. 

“I like it when you call me that.” He admitted. 

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.” You lightly flirted, just barely testing the waters, earning a grin in return. You both gazed into each other’s eyes, and you wondered if he could hear the loud way your heart was beating. He was beautiful, in every way. Obviously attractive, but beautiful in his silliness. Beautiful in the gentle way he spoke and looked at you. You wanted to lean in, to touch his lips to yours. The way his eyes flicked down to your lips, as well, hinted that maybe, possibly, he wanted the same...

...But suddenly, his phone buzzed, breaking the moment and bringing you both down to Earth. He sighed and mumbled a quick apology, glancing at the text on his phone. 

“It’s one of the staff members. They sent a warning about flooding.” 

“Flooding? Are we in a flood zone?” You asked.

“Not sure.” Jungkook played with his lip ring. “They said there’s a lake nearby and sometimes when it rains, it’s overflows. They just wanted to give us a heads up.” 

“Oh, ok.” You said before letting out a yawn. Jungkook looked up from his phone and saw your tired state as you went back to watching the movie in a desperate attempt to stay awake. 

This attempt failed, and rather quickly. Jungkook noticed you had fallen asleep, just like you didn’t want to do. But he just didn’t have the heart to wake you, especially when you moved in your sleep to rest your head on his shoulder, as though instinctively seeking him out. He refused to move, unable to stop the silly, schoolboy grin on his face while you rested on him. His heart was beating so loud, he was almost surprised it didn’t wake you. 

“Oh, Jungkookie.” A whispered, teasing voice giggled, cutting through the quiet room. Jungkook turned his head to see Hobi, smiling widely at the sight. “Is she asleep?” 

“Yeah.” He whispered back, blushing at being caught. “She just… kinda landed on me? I…I don’t mind though, y’know? Just don’t wanna wake her. s’all” 

Hoseok nodded, looking at the maknae knowingly but choosing not to put him on the spot. Jungkook will be honest the members in his own time, pushing him too much might cause him to run away from them and distance himself from you. He needed to let Jungkook get to know you first, and then encourage him to get closer. But, as it seems, the youngest member is doing quite well at getting closer to you all on his own. 

He then left the room, giving the two of you privacy, which Jungkook internally thanked him for. Fixing himself food in the kitchen, he was briefly interrupted by Taehyung and Jimin who came in for their own lunch. Hobi held a finger to his lips, alerting them to stay quiet, before motioning them into the kitchen. 

“Don’t go into the living room.” He whispered to them, knowing Jungkook can’t hear their conversation over the loud action movie. “Jungkook is in there with Y/N, and I’m giving them privacy.” 

“Privacy?” Jimin smiled suggestively, earning a look from Hoseok. “What’s happening in there?” 

“He’s not ready to admit it yet, because he still hasn’t said anything to her but… Jungkookie has feelings for Y/N.” Hoseok explained, leaning in to make sure Jungkook couldn’t hear him. “Don’t say anything to him, let’s just let him work things out, ok?” 

“Ok.” Jimin giggled. “Aish, he’s so cute. Even after all this time, a girl can get him worked up like this.” 

Taehyung stood silent while the other two cooed over Jungkook’s behavior. He thought back to Jungkook sitting there, watching as you leaned over to kiss him, and he felt awful. Taehyung wouldn’t do anything to purposefully hurt Jungkook, who was like a little brother to him. He had never even really felt anything for you, he only was carried away in the moment when you had kissed him. He knew you felt the same about him, when you rejected him at the door of your bedroom. Taehyung hated to think that maybe Jungkook heard any of that conversation that night, and he wondered how he would apologize to him for it once Jungkook was ready to talk about you to the other members. 

Just then, a pair of heavy footsteps came into the kitchen, silencing all of the members. Jungkook, unaware that they were in the room, had a still sleeping you in his arms, covered by your soft, pink blanket. His eyes widened, resembling a deer caught in headlights at being discovered, yet again, in a soft moment with you. 

“She, uh…” He stuttered, looking at the older members. “Her neck would hurt, sleeping on the couch like that too long. So I.. I thought… I’d just bring her back to her room…” 

“Good idea.” Hobi smiled warmly, not wanting to put too much attention on him. Jungkook scurried out of the house and held you close, going as quickly as he could to limit your time in the rain. 

“Oh my God, he’s in deep already.” Jimin giggled teasingly. Hoseok only responded with a grin while he shook his head. 

Next Chapter: x

[harlowsbby]

Snooze 💘

Requested, Jack admits he has a crush on the readers but wonders if she feels the same way.

“What if she doesn’t feel the same way? What if I ruin our friendship by telling her how I really feel.” Jack worriedly asked Ace.

“I’m telling you nothing will be ruined because I know she feels the same way.” Ace reassured Jack but he was still on edge.

Jack and You have been best friends since first grade and he’s had the biggest and fattest crush on you ever since. It’s been hard for him watching you go through life with other men that weren’t him.

But this time around he was going to make sure that you knew he loved you and not just as friends he wanted to love you outside of being friends, he wanted to make you his.

“How about tonight when everyone is asleep you take her out somewhere maybe to the movies or to the park to look at the stars? Didn’t you say your friend Jade has a ranch near by?” Ace suggested.

“She does! I’ll message her right now and see if she can set up a little picnic type thing under the stars.” Ace smiled. “I hope tonight ends well for the two of you.”

Jack nodded his head. “I hope so too Ace.” He sighed.

There was a lot weighing on Jack tonight it was either he’d gain you as his girlfriend or he’d lose you as his one of his best friends. He wasn’t sure how tonight was going to end up but he could on wish for the best.

“Imagine she turns you down?” Druski joked. “Gosh he’ll be crying about it forever and forever.” Urban said.

“He’ll be rapping about Y/N next.” 2fo added on.

“He’ll be like true love? What is a true love all I know is heartbreak man fuck out of here with all this love shit.” Druski attempted rap.

“You’re all idiots.” Jack mumbled and stepped outside to get some air as the guys laughed. “Please let tonight end well.” He talked to himself.

————————————————————————

“Where are we going Jack?” You questioned him as the two of you pulled him to Jade’s ranch. “Do you trust me?” He asked when the car was finally put into park.

You looked up and tried your best to inspect the area it looked like a farm but there wasn’t any animals around at all, just a few lights and lots of apple trees.

You looked at him with your eyebrows raised wondering what he had up his sleeve. “I do?” You stated but you were a bit unsure. “So just follow my lead.” He said.

Jack got out the car first and made his way over to your side of the car and opened your door for you. “Thank you.” You stated. “You’re welcome, now come on grab my hand.”

Your stomach started doing flips when you grabbed his hands. Your feelings for Jack have always been there you’ve just been way too scared to admit them to him, you didn’t want to ruin a good friendship by telling him that you wanted to be more than friends.

Even though you had lots of boyfriends growing up you mainly only had them to try and hide your feelings for Jack. You were in denial at first because there was no way you could ever fall for your best friend right? Well you were wrong.

Jack walked the two of you to the back of the ranch and you gasped upon seeing the picnic table with a few candles spread out, a red and white checkered table cloth and a picnic basket that had a few of your favorite snacks inside.

“What’s all this for?” You turned to Jack who was already looking at you. “We’re going to be watching the stars tonight so I figured we’d have a little like picnic while we did.” He smiled softly.

“This is so cute!” You squealed and gave him a side hug. “You’re cuter.” He mumbled under his breath.

“What was that?” You innocently asked him. “Oh I said let’s go sit yeah? I heard there was going to be a few shooting stars tonight.”

The two of you went ahead and sat down at the table and you looked up at the sky looking at all of the different stars. “I love watching the stars I wish I could be one.” Jack chuckled.

“Why?” He asked and looked at you and watched the way you admired all of the different stars in the sky. “Because not every star is the same every star is different and original in its own way kinda like you.”

“I’m original?” He asked. “Yeah you’re one of a kind Jack.” You smiled softly. “Ooo look a shooting star!” You pointed to the sky.

But while you were looking at the shooting stars Jack was too busy admiring you his heart started to race a bit with the thought of having to confess his feelings to you.

You knew he needed to do it sooner or later or else you’d become someone else’s. “Y/N.” He said and your head whipped over to him.

“Yes Jack?” You asked him nervously. “Uh.” He scattered the back of his neck nervously he didn’t know how to start the conversation.

“Well you see the thing is.” He gulped. “What’s wrong? You’re making me scared.” You nervously laughed.

You weren’t sure why you were so nervous but you just had this gut feeling in your stomach that something was going to go down tonight you just weren’t sure what.

“Fuck shit.” He chocked and you giggled. “Fuck shit?” He sighed heavily and stood up and rubbed his hands against his face. “I can’t do this.” He said.

“Jack?” Your lips turned into a small frown when you noticed just how frustrated he was getting.

“What’s the matter? You know you can tell me anything right?” He removed his hands from his face and sighed.

The two of you were now face to face. “I like you like I really like you, like you Y/N. I wanna be more than friends with you I really wanna be your man and I want you to be my babe, baby, honey pie, baby girl.” He kept rambling and you giggled.

“How about this for your answer.” You grabbed his face and connected your lips to his he was shocked at first not expecting for you to react like that but he nonetheless melted into the kiss.

You both pulled away for air eventually and both laughed softly. “I’ve always liked you for the longest Jack I was just scared on what it would do to our friendship.” You expressed to him.

“Me too but I promise I’ll never do anything to break your heart, will you be my girlfriend?” You smiled and nodded. “Of course I will.”

After some time the two of you decided to head back home to get some much needed sleep but one your way back to the car you had gotten a call from the guys.

“It’s one in the morning what are you guys doing up?” You put the phone on speaker so Jack was able to hear.

“Sooo are you finally Jack’s little boo thing?” Urban teased. “Yeah I bet they were kissing and making out all night.” Clay said and made kissing noises.

“You guys are annoying.” You giggled. “Mhm you say that now but you know we’re right just remember keep it wrapped up Jack.” Jack’s jaw dropped as you bent over in laughter.

“Alright we’re gonna go now we’ll see you guys later.” The guys chuckled. “Don’t do anything we wouldn’t do.” They teased before hanging up.

(Sorry this is out so late a bitch been working 😭)

[hamsterclaw]

A Love story, read the rest here.

Your fuckboi boyfriend proposes to you, and he's just about as unserious as you expect him to be, until you realise he isn't.

Pairing: Namjoon x f! reader

Word count: 1.1k

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Sex, swearing

When Namjoon proposed you’d thought it was a joke, at first.

‘Sure,’ you’d answered, nonchalant. ‘When do we tell our parents?’

‘We could just elope,’ Namjoon had said. He’d rolled over, bare back gleaming with sweat from pounding you into the bed.

‘Perfect. What should I wear?’

‘I’ll get you a dress,’ Namjoon had said. ‘A ring, too.’

‘Great.’

You’d got up to get washed up, and when you’d come back, wondering if it was all really a joke, you’d found Namjoon fast asleep, stretched out over the entire bed.

You’d climbed on top of him, buried your face in his chest, and gone to sleep too.

You’d been at the mall a few days later, helping Namjoon choose a new jacket, when he’d disappeared and come back with an ivory slip dress. 

He’d held it up in front of you. ‘What do you think?’

‘It’s nice,’ you’d agreed.

‘Perfect. I’ll get a shirt to match.’

You’d raised an eyebrow. ‘Is this for our ‘wedding’?’

Namjoon had said, ‘Yeah.’ 

‘I should try it on,’ you’d said, thoughtfully.

Namjoon had given you all of three minutes in the changing room before he’d pushed his way in the door.

‘Shit, you look pretty,’ he’d said, looking you up and down with a flattering intensity.

‘Pretty enough to marry?’

‘Forever isn’t long enough,’ Namjoon had replied, waggling his brows at you, and you’d burst out laughing.

‘Shut up, idiot,’ you’d scoffed but there’d been an oddly sweet fluttering in your chest.

Namjoon had already been distracted by your thighs, big hand running up the smoothness of your left thigh, bunching the silky material up to your hip, plucking at the strap of your tiny underwear, twanging it against your skin.

‘Get out, we can do this at home,’ you’d said firmly, hand on his chest, pushing him out of the changing room.

Namjoon had said, ‘Give me a sec,’ and had readjusted what looked like a raging boner. 

‘Shit, Namjoon,’ you’d teased, flattered and impressed that he’d got that hard that quickly.

‘It’s not just you in that dress,’ Namjoon had said, in all seriousness. ‘It’s the idea of calling you Mrs Kim.’

You’d dropped to your knees and pressed a kiss to the head of his cock over his jeans, and he’d whined then, a sound so rare for him you’d wet your panties just from hearing it.

‘Come on,’ you’d said, sultry, going up on tiptoe to nibble his earlobe. ‘Buy me this and let’s go home.’

That afternoon Namjoon had fucked you against the door as soon as you’d closed it behind you, tugging your panties down to your ankles, lifting your leg and sliding into you with a groan so relieved you’d suspected he’d been hard since the changing room at the mall.

You’d been no better, worked up by the heated looks he’d kept throwing you on the way home, by the way he’d felt you up under your top in the lift to his apartment, whispering filth in your ear about how pretty your tits were, how he could see your nipples through the material, how he wanted his cum all over them.

It’d been hours before you made it to the bed, mainly because you’d fallen asleep in his arms on the floor after he’d fucked your third orgasm from you, sticky and satisfied.

Namjoon in his mid twenties had fucked you so many times he’d probably been inside you more often than not.

You wouldn’t have changed a damn thing.

***

You’d ended up planning a wedding dinner because your and his parents insisted, an affair you’d left to your mother and his which ended up being in a swanky hotel downtown. 

You remember scrolling through a wedding menu one Saturday morning, half dressed, barely awake, because of a barrage of messages from your mother. 

Namjoon had been doing pushups in a corner of his bedroom, grunting with effort, and you’d walked over and climbed on top of the expanse of his bare back. 

‘Get off,’ he’d complained, but he’d made no move to push you off. 

You’d enjoyed the feel of his back muscles flexing under your ass and thighs as he’d done another pushup, arms twitching from the effort of holding you up. 

Finally, he’d rolled over, sending you into a crumpled pile on the floor, and just as quickly had got on top of you, caging you in between his arms. 

‘Do you want soup as a starter?’ you’d asked, feigning seriousness. 

He’d raised a brow at you. ‘Yeah of course.’ 

‘Can you text my mum back?’ you’d asked. 

Namjoon had grabbed your phone from your hand. ‘Yeah. I’ll just tell her I’ll call her after I finish fucking you.’ 

You’d grabbed for the phone, and he’d pinned your arms above your head. 

‘Fuck the soup. Let’s get married today,’ he’d said. 

‘Sure. Give me an hour to get dressed.’ 

Namjoon and you had eyed each other. There’d been nothing in his expression that made you doubt his seriousness, but you’d wondered anyway. 

As you’d showered, and he’d stepped in to shower after you were done.

As you’d put your makeup on, styled your hair. 

As you’d gone to lay your slip dress on the bed, only to find his crisp ivory shirt laid out already, with his good suit. 

As you’d slipped your shoes on, and he’d helped you with your coat. 

As you’d pulled up outside city hall. 

You’d slipped your hand in his as you walked up the steps, and he’d stopped then, looking down at you, so handsome your heart could burst. 

‘I want to marry you today. Will you marry me?’ he’d asked. 

You don’t know how he could ever ask you that and expect any answer but yes. 

You’d slid your thumb over his wrist, felt his pulse thumping under your skin, strong, steady. 

Even now, after all these years and after all you’ve been through, you’d say the same thing you said that day. 

‘I’d love to,’ you’d said. 

He’d smiled, almost shy, and leaned down to kiss you full on the lips. 

After the ceremony you’d gone to the lake outside city hall to feed the ducks. 

The sky had been overcast that day, and neither of you had taken any pictures, but you can still see him in your mind’s eye, still remember it like it was yesterday. 

‘Should I call your mom back now?’ he’d asked, leaning over the railing, turning to you. 

‘I told her I trusted her judgement,’ you’d replied. ‘And that you definitely wanted soup.’ 

Namjoon had laughed, and you’d pressed a kiss to his chest. 

‘I love you,’ you’d told him. 

He’d waited until you’d looked up at him. ‘I love you,’ he’d said. 

You’d waited for the punchline, the fuckboi comment, but he’d knitted his fingers through yours and said, ‘Forever isn’t long enough.’ 

You’d held hands by the lake until it got too cold, and then, you’d made your way home. 

©hamsterclaw 2024

[fawnbaits]

it’s so weird how if you’re groomed once, you chase it for the rest of your life. i thought i’d be twelve and desirable forever, and here i am now, and here i am and i dont matter to the men that killed me and made me reborn because there’s always younger, always more of a thrill.

the red gingham, thigh highs, milkshakes, and motels turned into oversized hoodies and therapy offices. turned into boyfriends saying they were sorry about what happened to me, but i need to grow up. turned into grief.

the one thing that never fell apart was my tween heart, still beating for anyone to eternally care for me. still fantasizing of roadtrips and saddleshoes and bubblegum, with a part of my soul tainted with jealousy that i am now too old. i gained 50 pounds, i hit the wall. they ask if im in my 20s. i still say im 14.

i can chat up a man on kik but it’s not the same, not the same as being told i was a secret, not the same as when they were filthy for touching me, not me for touching them.

in the dead of night in my room, sometimes– when everyone is asleep, when there is no one to hear me cry– i lay on the floor, and watch Lolita. i’m in eighth grade again. i do stupid things and don’t think about how it’ll hurt me forever, because i never planned to live that long anyway. & he’s still there, stroking my hair, and i crack a joke about how i’ll tell the police if he ever leaves me. he pinky swears.

sometimes, in the dead of night in my room, im twelve years old again. i dont tell anyone this secret, where i fall asleep to Pretty Baby and fade into a dream where i am still wanted. i dont tell anyone this secret, where i beat and buried myself inside my own soul, used as a canvas and now trapped as a collage of abuse. it’s so weird how if you’re groomed once, you chase it for the rest of your life.

[pascalsbby]

CARNAL / 5: All Is Fair In Love & War

Chapter 4 / Masterlist

Summary: 5.5K/ f!reader, dark!joel, bfd!joel, brat tamer!joel

“You were infiltrating his space, now. You stayed still, and she mumbled something. You pressed, “keep watching” on the screen and let the TV voices drown out your reality- the one in which Joel is awake, unknowing that you’re in his house and in his daughters bed.”

Warnings: 18+ mdni, SMUT, age gap, knife play, lil bit of blood play, breath play, choking, he takes what he wants, dominate & aggressive joel, pet names, praise kink, p in v sex, face fucking, dirty talk <3, he talks you through it, tells you what to do- the usual pure filth + a little more this time.

A/N: SHIT’S HAPPENING! I got a little carried away. Lemme know what you think, please? 🤍

“How do you love?”

“Like a fist. Like a knife.”

- Ada Limón

°:. *₊ ° . ° .• ♡ °:. *₊ ° *₊.• ♡ °:. *₊ ° . ° .• ♡ °:. *₊ ° *

You had surrendered the recollection of what it felt like to be touched, held, a long time ago. For the person touching you to feel you for themselves, too.

A delicate pass, the very essence of tenderness has materialized into his calloused fingertips. Small hairs from his beard kissing your skin, just as his lips brush up and down your neck. He’s breathing into you, the condensation is warm, making your own sweat drip. Lips whispering, gliding along the delicate curve of your neck, his movement like a goddamn poem.

His fingers dipping into your depth, wet from prodding in your mouth.

Pleasure and pain, almost annoyance at how good it feels. It tickles. It feels wrong, even. Joel dips down and licks your sweat pooling in a tucked-in spot between your collar bones.

It feels heavy with guilt. It feels safe. His thick arms are holding you against his body, he’s making promises in your ear.

It’s not real, though- it’s a dream. A dream you’ve been having for days, over and over. But it never really leaves when you wake, either.

It’s what Joel felt like- will feel like when you meet again. The familiar gnawing in your chest aches. Where does the feeling of him end, and I begin? Am I finally lost within? I’d stay here forever. Maybe that’s what I was meant for… to be lost in the chest of a man in my own brain.

9:45pm, sat on either side of Sarah’s bed in her still-pink room that she’d outgrown years ago.

“Dad says he’ll repaint it once I promise I’ll stay here until I graduate, during the summers at least,” she had said. “I guess that gives me more time to see you since you’ll be here now too.” You corrected her, “Until I can move out of my parent’s house again. Maybe I’ll just live here, it’s better than going back there.” Sarah frowned at the joke, knowing what you had shared about your family to her.

What were you doing? Joking about staying here. This was Joel’s house. He was asleep two doors down. Now wasn’t the best time to be making jokes, but it felt easier than trying to face what was truly happening.

Sarah had promised he was sleeping whenever you snuck through the back door, putting her finger to her lips to quiet you when you were suddenly falling over the molding on the way in the door. You’d never been one for graceful movements.

She held in her giggles all the way until her door was closed, though.

“Were you trying to wake the sleeping bear?”

“Maybe,” you giggled.

And that was the truth. You were terrified, but you wanted him to know you were here.

You were angry at him, but you wanted him. You wanted to see his room, not through a computer screen on a cam website- but in person. You wanted to be near him.

You were infiltrating his space, now.

°:. *₊ ° . ° .• ♡

It had been 6 days since Joel had shown his face. It had also been 6 days and few minutes less whenever he had left the bathroom you two shared. He decided not to share his plan with you, once again. You were a puppet in his game.

‘Break with him? For him?’ You had, momentarily on the bathroom floor. The sobs were clawing their way out unmercifully, but you also didn’t want to stop them. You had believed what he told you. He held you like a little girl, arms wrapped around you in safety. And you had listened and believed. Why? When has a man ever followed through in their promises to you?

He had left you in the bathroom, fending for yourself on how to clean up the mess he made. He had cleaned up the visible mess of your cum, his, sure, but not what he awoke inside of you.

You looked into the mirror and formed a half smile, looking at the faint shadow of where your mascara had been running.

Your neck was red where he’d wrapped his hand around you.

You took a few more deep breaths and then patted down your dress. There, on the inside of your thigh was his fingertips, branded into your body from force.

You wanted to tattoo him on your body, make him permanent. But you also wanted to scream and throw a fit against his chest. You felt like a child.

When you got tired of looking into your own eyes, you went to go face the truth.

Sarah had found you first, immediately boring into you. Her face was disappointed, frowning. You knew in that moment that she was gone, months of friendship thrown away.

She knew, she knew that there was something going on between you and Joel. She knew you fucked him in that bathroom. She knew he’d been paying you to ruin yourself for him.

You waited for a sharp pain, a crying voice, something.

She quickened her pace and ran to you after she could see that physically, you were fine. But she didn’t hit you. She wrapped you in her arms and the breath you had been unknowingly holding, released. She whispered to you, still holding you tight.

Suddenly the world was spinning, for probably the fifth time that night. But when was the last time you felt like you were standing on solid ground, anyways?

“Dad told me, I’m so sorry, I had no idea or I would have beat his ass myself, I swear to God.” She released from the hug and held you at arms length, looking you over.

You’ve never been a good liar, praying that your eyes wouldn’t give it away. ‘I’m fucking your dad.’

She looked like Joel in that moment, sounded like him. Concerned, brow set downward.

Joel was standing a few feet away, facing you while Sarah’s back was to him. He was smiling ever-so-lightly here and there as your family talked at him, his eyes lifted from his dad’s face to you. You imagined your eyes were wide, still red from tears, from being handled by him… fucked into the concrete wall.

Your eyes returned to Sarah as she started again.

“I didn’t know you were seeing anyone! How could you not tell me! I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I know this isn’t the time. I just thought you would have told me that he wasn’t treating you right, that he was supposed to be here on your big day. I’m sorry.” She said again, softer, realizing she was getting worked up about the ‘wrong’ part of the story, and you probably couldn’t handle that energy at the moment.

You dared look at Joel again, the indention between his brows was visible for a few moments, he nodded his head towards you, looking at you through his eyelashes after looking down at his feet. Play along. Stop choking. Stop starin’.

You returned to her gaze, as she waited for your response.

God damnit, answer her…. C’mon Birdie.

You could still feel his fingers in the back of your throat.

“Sarah, I’m so sorry. I just thought it would turn out differently. He seemed so sweet and interested in me and that usually doesn’t happen so I ju-“

She cut you off, shhhh’ing you.

“We don’t have to talk about it right now. This mystery man has spent too much of your time tonight.”

He had told your parents the same story, and they believed him. So much so they didn’t even care to ask you anything, all you got was a “sorry” nod from your mom. Your dad was too busy talking to other family members, probably telling them how hard he worked to get you here.

And yet again, here you were, the victim in a string of lies that weren’t even your own.

The story was simple: you had been seeing some guy for a few months and invited him here to meet your parents on your big night. He didn’t show- and when Sarah came in all excited talking about Chase, it made you upset. Joel followed you because he thought you were upset that he was there without notice, and he didn’t want to worry anyone else in the gallery by bringing your parents into it.

It was good. Why are you surprised? You knew he was a good liar. All your fucking encounters had been premeditated- even today. Maybe even this one, in where he sticks his fingers inside of you and fucks you to tears, then blames it on some other guy.

But it didn’t surprise you how quickly they fell under his spell. You did the same, and all it took was whispered filth in his deep, vibrating voice. All it took was his fist wetly wrapped around his throbbing cock.

Your emotions were never really taken into consideration, and this was another one of those moments- but this time you were grateful. No one asked questions about the mystery asshole again. Except for Sarah.

That’s how you ended up in his house, in her bedroom. You felt like you owed her the ‘truth’ of what happened between you and mystery boy.

You wish the real mystery boy wasn’t her dad. Why couldn’t he have been the neighbor, or some professor from school? You’d never really looked at older men in this manner, before Joel.

Shame was growing deeper amidst the entanglement of lies you felt like you’d eventually get stuck in.

And they were sticking to you, the lies. Thick, heavy. They played themselves over and over in your dreams, dancing in circles and spinning webs.

He whispered to you, “Mine. Mine. Mine, Birdie.” But just in your dreams. You had wings and he washed them gently, petting and taking care of you.

She had texted you at least a hundred times since that night, asking about this guy, wanting to know every detail. So you decided it was best to see her in person, tell her whatever story you could come up with on the spot and then hopefully hear nothing about it again.

“Maybe… maybe I scared him away? I don’t do well with things needing me, or being close to me. Maybe it’s externalized resentment towards the world for having been born as the ‘older sister’ in a broken home, or for having to be the parent of my parents, the house, myself. I don’t like dogs jumping on me and licking me, I don’t like the grabby hands of children, I hate when my mother asks me a question that she could easily figure out herself,” you finish, out of breath from quickly trying to get your thoughts out before they left. Or maybe before you realized who you were telling your secrets to.

And that was the truth. You knew you’d been a shit friend to Sarah. You couldn’t see it getting any better from here, but you also somehow knew what would be worse: losing him even though he wasn’t even yours. He felt lodged in your chest like he was an integral part of your body and its ability to work.

“I think that makes sense,” she nods. “You were in survival mode, you didn’t have enough energy for extra anything- including relationships or extra overstimulation. That’s how dad is, too. I’ve begged him for years to acknowledge the pain, but then put it down for a while. Or let someone hold it with him, at least. He grew up similarly to you, I think.” She pondered on. “I think he would do well with someone caring for him. You too.”

“Uh…” you stuttered, “yeah. He seems like he’s had a rough go at it. From what you’ve told me at least. I remember him being sad that summer he worked on the shed, too, but I guess I just assumed it was cause you weren’t there n’ he missed you. I don’t remember a lot of it though, to be honest.”

“‘Don’t know,” she trails, “he’s always been like that. Even before the divorce. He’s been a hell of a lot happier this six months though. He says he doesn’t know why, just ‘feels lighter.’ I assume he’s seein’ someone, just won’t tell me who. Probably Ms. Tammi down the street… he always eyes her when she’s workin’ in the garden. She’s too young for him though, she’s like 35,” She scoffs.

Damn.

35 is a helluva lot better than 24. But this isn’t the time or place to have that conversation.

Sarah continues on, quickly changing the subject and falling into other conversations as you listen intently, happy to not be at the receiving end of questions at the moment.

You can’t help but wonder what Ms. Tammi looks like. It fades quickly, though.

That’s how the majority of the night went, and you were happily exhausted by it all. The nodding, “yes!”’s and “I agree. I agree”’s, the giggling, the comfort in the face of it all.

Around 3am you both settled down and she gave you a blanket that smelled like their home. It was soft, warm. Sarah put New Girl on and she was out in 5 and a half minutes. You always fell asleep last at sleepovers, unsurprisingly. You didn’t sleep well as it is.

Her room was comfy. Boxes were still littered around from what she brought home for the summer. Her pink walls radiated the soft glow and heat of the lamps. Her TV was dancing across the walls, casting shadows. Her windows were open, welcoming in the cooler, muggy night. Cicadas were still singing their lullabies.

Her walls were adorned with proof that she had been taken care of, loved. Pictures of Joel throughout their life, littered under string lights.

She’d always been a photographer, ever since Joel put her first camera in her hand when she was 5. Sarah had lit up talking about it a few hours earlier. She took the family pictures on their vacations- meaning, she attempted to squeeze her and Joel into the frame, considering how much shorter her arms were than his. He let her, not too worried that half of his face was cut out.

“Always knew you were gonna be somethin’ special, kid.” He had told her.

There were the ones of just him, too. Black and white speckled film. He was turned to the side in one, his profile taking up the whole shot, looking forward. He was younger then, more clean shaven and… just smaller. He looked lighter in a different regard. Happier, maybe.

He looked beautiful, but not the way he does now. The years are present in the fine lines of his face- they are there to tell his story. One you didn’t even know yet but wanted to drown in.

The testament to how much Sarah loved Joel was right here. The proof of how much he loves her, staring back. She had a safe childhood, you think.

And you’re jealous because you can see it; the difference in the two of you. No, you don’t want to be like Joel’s daughter in that way… you just… hate having to admit to yourself that the time for that has passed. Your dad never showed up in that way, and he never would.

He wasn’t the one who covers your cuts and carries you to your bed when you fell asleep watching one of his cowboy shows on Saturday night. He was the type of dad that screamed your weaknesses back at you, stabbing through you- except this time through your back and into your chest; not even looking you in the eyes while hurting the little girl within you, again. And again. And again-

Back to Joel, please. You begged your mind. Your hands were shaking, too. The soft hum of Sarah sleeping next to you brought you back. You hate that it makes your heart swell that much more, the fact he took such good care of her. Such good care that she doesn’t have any inkling of what’s going on between her two favorite people.

She’s sleeping peacefully in a place that’s never been a war zone, and yet here you were. Who would be the first causality?

You drift off eventually, uncomfortable at first because you don’t want to move her bed too much, waking her. Eventually you sleep, and you sleep peacefully despite the elephant on your chest. Despite the war on the horizon.

Perhaps this was the best sleep you’d had in years, even. You felt safe in her safety, in Joel’s.

You dreamt about him again, this time he was bleeding.

And then a crashing in the kitchen followed by a muffled “fuck” caused you to gasp out of your nightmare, and Sarah stirred to your entire body stiffening.

You stayed still, and she mumbled something. You pressed, “keep watching” on the screen and let the TV voices drown out your reality- the one in which Joel is awake, unknowing that you’re in his house and in his daughters bed.

But God, you have to pee. He scared the shit out of you. You raised off the bed slowly, making sure not to wake her. It had been five or so minutes since the sound, and nothing else had happened. He’s probably getting ready for work, you convinced yourself.

On a Saturday?

You check your phone to see if he had texted you. 5:46am. A new habit you’d formed in the past week since your last encounter. Nothing. Still.

So you tiptoed to the door and cracked it, letting the light from the TV guide you. Her bathroom was three doors down, she had told you earlier in the night. There was a nightlight on, too. You could see it pouring out from under the door.

No other lights in the house, or at least upstairs, seemed to be on. Joel had either left for work or went back to bed, whatever he was doing seemed done.

You cursed at yourself for not bringing your phone with you to use as a light, but it was one long hallway… you could do it. Deep breaths.

You made it halfway when you heard something downstairs and practically peed yourself right then, hurrying your footsteps to the nearest door. You opened it and backed in, looking at the stairs and down the hallway for any sign that he might have seen you.

Nothing. And then a breath that wasn’t yours.

“Oh, now you’re breakin’ and enterin’ into my house? Couldn’t stay away, huh? Coulda just called, Birdie.”

There’s no fucking way.

“Came to see Sarah and didn’t even say hi to your daddy? Mmm, what a shame.” You imagined he was shaking his head, but you couldn’t see too much from the fucking wrong night light in the corner of the wrong fucking room.

“Thought you were gonna be a good girl ‘n lay low for a while?”

You turned around, slowly, and there he was. He was in boxers, laying in the bed you’d seen him fuck himself into. It smelled like him in here, too. The sheets were slept in, the same color as the ones he would shoot his spend into, grunting and calling you pretty names.

He was grinning, not even startled by the fact you were somehow standing in his room at 6am.

Lay low? That plan was never shared with you.

Heat washed over you, embarrassment maybe. You wanted to be needed by him, wanted to be grabbed, licked, kissed, handled. You’ve been waiting for him, but he hasn’t reached out. You wanted him to hold you like he held you in that bathroom, except this time you wanted him to push your face into his sheets while he did.

“Answer me,” he growled. He couldn’t have been up for long, his voice still heavy with sleep. It was lower in tone, deeper.

“I’m trying to be a good girl Joel, I-I was just looking for the ba-“

“No. A good girl wouldn’t fuck her best friends dad, n’ call him daddy while doin’ it. She wouldn’t come over and sleep in her bed, just to sneak into her dad’s room, doin’ and lookin’ for god knows what.”

He was enjoying this. He was just as much to blame- no, he was THE person to fucking blame for this.

“That’s fucking unfair, Joel. I came over here to try and put a patch over loose ends that you left whenever you left me in the floor of that bathroom,” you huffed, teary-eyed and still stunned, still sleepy. “I didn’t- I don’t, wanna hurt her.”

He stopped grinning then, sitting up. He didn’t lift his feet off the ground, but you were scared he might.

You felt like that same, scared little girl who was being punished and yelled at for letting a tear slip. But he was fucked just as much as you if this went public, and it emboldened you. You knew he didn’t want to hurt her either.

“You know what’s unfair?” You pointed at him, continuing in his silence.

“You. That I finally made a friend who is so good- so good- and you stalk me? You find me and you use me for some perverted pleasure that your wife didn’t give you, n now I have to pick up the pieces and lie to my best friend?”

He was face-to-face with you, staring down at you, waiting for you to dare open your mouth again. And then, his hand was around your neck and he was forcing you to look into his eyes.

“You don’t know ‘nothin’ ‘bout my ex-wife, don’t ever bring her up again. ‘Specially when you’re standing in my house, in my god damn bedroom. Got it?”

“No.” You gasped out.

His grip tightened.

“No?” He spat in disbelief.

“‘Musta forgot who you answer to. Didn’t know your pussy would forget so fast who she belongs to. Don’t make me put you back in your place, sweetheart.”

His nose meets yours, the hug of your face, faster than his lips. He nudges, wanting more. Sucking, teeth hitting teeth in a want to be as close to each other as possible. He goes for the bottom lip, always, tucking the side of his nose under yours. Gently. Then he returns to your lips and bites down, searching for blood. He get its, and he chuckles.

You gasped into his mouth.

“You need me to ruin you, huh?” He whispered into your hair as he pulled your head to the side, making it easier to suck on your neck. He was nipping at your jaw, licking lines like he had in your dreams. His hands were engulfing you and all you could do was stand there and take it, sucking the pain away from your own lips. Rough palms feeling at you.

You let out a plea for more.

“That’s why you came lookin’ for me? Sweet girl,” he purred, “couldn’t stay away? Want me to take care of you, stretch that tight hole around daddy’s cock, hmm?”

That hit a nerve, deep. You wanted to surrender yourself and hide in his arms. From the world, Sarah, yourself. You wanted to believe what he had whispered to you in the bathroom, you wanted to break against him and rest your bones.

But first, you wanted him to sink his teeth into you. To ruin you. And then maybe he would stick around this time and pick up the pieces.

He was solid, sturdy, safe. You reached up and put your hand on top of his, letting him know this is what you want, giving him the ‘okay’.

He didn’t even need to ask you, you walked closer to his bed and laid yourself over it, ass up, giving yourself to him. He sighed in lust, watching you sink into his sheets, spreading your smell onto them. You turned your head and laid your cheek against the soft, looking up at him.

You spread your legs and struggled out of your shorts, he stepped towards you and ripped them off. You were taking too long. The room was silent, save for both of your breathing.

“This what you needed?” The bed squeaked under you as he pulled you towards the end of and ordered you on your knees. He lined himself up with your core and spit after kissing your cunt with his tip.

The spit hit your pussy, tickling its way down as it dripped. He took his fingers to it, pushing it around and then into your hole. He used it to wet the head of his cock, too.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he coos at you, grabbing for the nape of your neck, pulling your hair and hence your head back towards him. It hurt so good, and your neck was at an angle that made it harder for your chest to rise and fall.

He slid into you at the same instance, and the breath you were halfway through caught in your throat, your whole body reacting to his length. Your eyes were watering from the intrusion, from the pain and simultaneous pleasure. He put his palm against your mouth, muting whatever scream had just come out.

And he fucks you while you grunt out sounds each time he hits that spot inside of you. Your eyes roll back, then focus again. His hand blocking not only your mouth but your nose. Your stomach is tighter, trying to fit his size. He’s breathing heavy above you, sweat dripping and falling onto your back, not realizing that he’s cutting off your air supply.

He’s doing what he said he would all of those times, fulfilling the promises he had made. It’s different now than in the bathroom. He was angry then, but he wasn’t in the comfort of his own home. He could do whatever he pleased, now. Sarah under the cover of the whispering TV in her room.

He throws his hips to yours, each one tearing moans from your throat. “There you go.” And suddenly you were seeing faint white lights in the corner of your vision. But you don’t care, you were just tired, blissed out. You felt comfortable under the weight of him, fucking into you. You relaxed and took what he was giving you. Over and over an-

His voice was muffled. He repeated himself.

“Hey, breathe for me, pretty thing.” And you do, forgetting it for a moment. He reached his wrist in front of you, taking your neck between his thumb and pointer finger. “Lemme feel you breathe baby. Gotta listen t’ me.” You sucked in what you could, and he ‘uh huh’ed you, feeling your neck contract and take in the air. “That’s right, just like that. Can’t have you passin’ out on me baby girl. Not there yet.”

He went slower for a moment, aware that he almost suffocated you. But he didn’t stop, and you were glad. He pulled out and decided he’d choke you with his cock, instead. You whimpered at the loss of him from inside of you, but you knew what he wanted and you wanted to give it to him.

You slipped from the bed to the ground, finding it harder to move and get on your knees than you thought. He’d fucked you silly, shaking, raw.

“Can I feel it? Let me feel it.” Ordering, more than allowing, the tip of his cock passed your lips and went straight for the back of your throat. You coughed him out, just for him to return again, dripping your saliva.

“Shhh, shhh, shhhh,” he whispered, grabbing fistfuls of hair on both sides of your head as he fucked his hips into your mouth, relentlessly. You felt something warm, wet drip from you and hit the ground next to your splayed legs beneath you.

“Cumming with my cock in your mouth? Knew you were a’ bad girl.” He was breathless, shocked at how you were letting him play with you, limp, almost. Fucked out. On the verge of passing out.

You didn’t know how many times your stomach had tightened and then released. How many times you came for him. You stopped counting after two, unable to do much of anything. Not wanting to be anything, then the person under his touch. Full of him.

And then you were wearing him again, bent over the edge of his bed, hips hurting from hitting the edge of the mattress.

“Joel,” you managed, “pl- please.”

“Now you’re talkin’? Couldn’t get any words out before. Poor baby. What do you need from me?”

“Hurts, Joel.”

He liked that.

“Want me to stop, then?”

“No,” your voice was hoarse.

“Then what do you need? Can’t give it to ya if you ain’t able to say it.”

“Inside. Cu- oh fuck- cum inside me. Please. Please, please.”

He liked the sound of you begging for him to fill you up.

“N’ whose cunt is this, baby? Who do you want to cum inside you?” And those filthy words pulled another orgasm from your hips.

“Your-“ you mumbled.

“Louder. Use those pretty words you know from goin’ ta school.”

“Yours Joel. This pussy is yours, s’all yours.”

“What a good girl.”

He halted as deep as he could inside of you with a groan, growl-like, and he filled you with his warmth.

He stayed inside, afterwards. Not wanting any of his spend to go to waste outside of your womb.

You didn’t say anything, fighting the urge to just fall asleep where you were, in the comfort of his bed. But you didn’t cry, either. And that was a first. He completely defiled you, yet you weren’t breaking under his touch. You felt like, even if it was fleeting, he broke you and then put you back together right. The correct way.

He pulled out and grunted, and suddenly you felt a soft cloth wiping at your core. He placed soft kisses up and down your shoulders and back as he cleaned you up, your goosebumps the only reaction you gave as you closed your eyes.

A few minutes passed.

“Do you trust me?” He whispered, running his hands up and down your bare skin.

“Mhmm,” you let out.

“Look at me, Birdie. Need to hear it.”

You rolled over, more awake from the serious tone in his voice.

“Yes, Joel, I trust you.” But he didn’t looked like he believed you.

“Want you to do somethin’ for me.”

“Whatever you want.” Your patience was wearing thin, you just wanted to curl up and sleep, surrounded by him, surrounded by the smell of him, the safety.

You felt heavy.

He lifted himself off of the bed but you didn’t follow where he went, you caught yourself falling asleep again, so you slightly shook your head in an effort not to.

He returned and a hissing sound sprung through the air. Then immediately, something hard, cold, wet maybe? Slid across your skin. His weight was weighing down the bed as he sat back down next to you.

He moved your hair out of your face, rested your cheek against his palm and spoke clearly.

“Want my initials here, baby.” He was holding a switchblade against the inside of your thigh. “Remind you who you belong to while we figure s’all out.”

You were awake now.

He kept the blade there, but his eyes found yours, searching for an answer, praying you wouldn’t get up and run from him.

Instead, you took his wrist and moved it even closer to your core, on the inside of your thigh.

“How ‘bout… here?”

“S’perfect.”

He got off the bed then, sinking to his knees as he settled you comfortably on your back.

The birds were chirping through the window, the orange sun slipping past the blinds and onto his bed, streaking over his face. You welcomed the pain, if it felt anything like his pleasure. You trusted him. And you know you shouldn’t, but who is going to stop you?

He kissed up your legs, starting by leaving wet marks on the back of your knees. He made it to your nude mound and kissed it, too. Gently, soft.

“You sure?” He asked, for once, giving you an out if you wanted it.

“M’ sure, Joel.” He sighed at the sound of his name leaving your lips, sleepily. He reached your thigh and settled the blade comfortably in his hands.

He kissed you one more time in the spot he had chosen, and then he carved his initials into your body, slowly. Painfully. You hissed.

“Want me t’ stop?” He asked.

“No. It feels good.”

It felt like your own version of love, one both of you shared together, secretly.

The warmth spreed as his tongue followed the blood down your thigh, catching it before it fell to his sheets.

-

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[togrowoldinv]

Welcome Home

Natasha Romanofff x Reader

Natasha comes home from a mission to be with her family again

Note: This is soft mama Nat. Enjoy it!

Natasha Romanoff Masterlist 1, Natasha Romanoff Masterlist 2, Main Masterlist

It’s never been easy when Natasha goes on a mission without you, but this time has been particularly hard. One month without talking to or seeing Natasha has been torture.

But it’s been even more difficult for your nine-month-old daughter. She got used to Nat’s presence in the home. Even though she can’t speak, you know sometimes her cries are for Natasha specifically.

Nat didn’t want to go on a mission so soon after she was born, but Fury asked for her help. She rarely turned him down.

Tonight, you’re missing Nat even more because little Ali won’t stop crying. You hold her in your arms now, trying to soothe her with the movement of a rocking chair. It isn’t working well.

“It’s okay, baby,” you say. She cries louder. “I know. I miss Mama too.”

It’s another hour before Ali stops crying and falls asleep. You lay her down in her crib before retreating to your room. You hadn’t realized it was so late, but it’s nearing 2am now. So, you slip on one of Natasha’s sweatshirts and slide into bed.

You expect to be awakened from your slumber within a few hours, but you sleep until morning. Afraid you missed your daughter’s cries, you get out of bed quickly and rush to her room. When she’s not in her crib, you panic.

Just when you’re about to call the Avengers that are in town, you hear the sound of her giggles coming from the kitchen. You turn the corner of your house to see Natasha standing beside your daughter as she feeds her breakfast.

“Natasha?” You call her name to make sure she’s real.

She turns around with a perfect smile. She’s real. And she’s home.

“Hey detka,” Natasha says sweetly.

She opens her arms, and you hug her tight. She grunts at the force of your hug, but when you try to pull back away, she pulls you close again.

“I missed you so much,” you say.

“I missed you more,” Nat replies.

When you pull away, you look over her face. She looks tired but happy. You lean in for a kiss. A whole month without kissing her is something you never want to happen again. You could kiss her forever, but your daughter fusses at the lack of food being fed to her.

Natasha chuckles and pulls away, softly kissing your lips one more time.

“She missed you too, you know,” you say, kissing Ali on the head.

“I can tell,” Natasha says. “I made pancakes if you want some.”

“You’re the best.”

You make a plate and drench them in syrup. Natasha laughs at your love for the sugary syrup that she doesn’t care for. You sit next to Natasha, and she kisses your cheek.

“Never leave me again,” you say.

“I’ll do my best,” Nat replies. You know she has to go on missions, but the comment satisfies you for now. “When she naps, do you want to-”

“Yes please,” you interrupt her.

“I was just going to suggest we talk, but deal,” Natasha jokes.

“It’s been a month, Nat.”

“I know,” she says. “I’ll make it worth it.”

Natasha smirks and goes back to feeding Ali. You somehow find that the most attractive thing in the world.

You’re so glad she’s home again and your family is happy once again.