#so he talks her through it and holds her with his eyes instead | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

becertainlust · 3 days ago

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bestfriend!sabo who swears he sees you as nothing more than a good friend. A best friend, joined by hip, and all that falls under that spectrum but others never picked up on the friend part.

You were across the clearing, laughing at something Koala said, and Sabo could feel the corners of his lips tugging upward, unbidden. It wasn’t unusual—he always found himself smiling when you were happy. But this time, it was Koala’s teasing words that pulled him out of his thoughts.

“You’re staring again,” she whispered, elbowing him in the side.

Sabo startled, his usual composure slipping for a fraction of a second. “I’m not staring,” he said quickly, his voice just a little too defensive. “I’m just—keeping an eye out. You know how clumsy she can be.”

Koala raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Sure. That’s why you’ve got that dopey grin on your face.”

Before Sabo could retort, you called out his name, waving him over with that bright, carefree smile that always seemed to disarm him. He stood up quickly—too quickly—and tried to ignore the way his palms had started sweating.

“Yeah? What’s up?” he asked as he approached, slipping into his usual casual tone, though his heart was pounding in his chest.

“I need help tying this bandage,” you said, holding up your arm. It wasn’t a serious wound, just a scrape from earlier training, but the way you looked at him—trusting, unguarded—made his throat go dry.

Sabo nodded, stepping closer. “No problem,” he said, his voice steadier than he felt. He took your arm gently, his fingers brushing against your skin.

For a moment, the world seemed to narrow down to just the two of you. He was hyper-aware of how close you were, the scent of your shampoo, the warmth of your skin. He tied the bandage carefully, slower than necessary, and when he finished, he lingered for a second too long before pulling his hands back.

“Thanks, Sabo,” you said, your smile soft and genuine.

“Anytime,” he replied, his voice quieter than usual. He shoved his hands into his pockets, hoping to hide the way they trembled.

As you turned back to Koala, Sabo caught himself staring again. He shook his head, muttering under his breath, “Just friends. That’s all we are.”

But the flutter in his chest told a different story.

bestfriend!sabo who doesn't realize when he is jealous yet shows clear signs. It started subtly, like the crackle of a spark before a wildfire.

You were laughing with Haruto again, your head tilted back and your whole face lit up. Sabo’s eyes lingered, drawn in as they always were, but his usual quiet admiration was edged with something sharp, something he couldn’t quite name.

“Are you even listening?” Koala’s voice broke through his thoughts, and he blinked, realizing she’d been talking to him this whole time.

“Of course,” he replied automatically, though his tone lacked its usual easy charm.

Koala followed his line of sight, a knowing grin spreading across her face. “Right. So, you’re not currently plotting Haruto’s untimely disappearance?”

Sabo frowned, rolling his eyes as if the idea was absurd. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said, though his hand tightened around the edge of the table he was leaning on. “He’s new. Someone’s gotta make sure he doesn’t screw things up.”

Koala raised an eyebrow. “Uh-huh. And this sudden hypervigilance has nothing to do with the fact that he’s making her laugh?”

“Her laugh has nothing to do with it,” he shot back, but his words were clipped, lacking their usual carefree rhythm. “I just think he should be working harder instead of standing around flirting.”

Koala snorted. “Right. Because you’re the authority on work-life balance. You spent twenty minutes this morning balancing your pen on your nose.”

“That was stress relief,” Sabo retorted, but his gaze flicked back to you, his composure fraying.

Haruto leaned closer to you, and that spark in Sabo’s chest flared. Before he knew what he was doing, he was already walking toward you, his boots crunching against the gravel.

You noticed him immediately, as you always did, your face lighting up with that smile that had a habit of turning his thoughts into static. “Hey, Sabo! What’s up?”

“Haruto,” Sabo said, his tone as smooth as silk but his eyes like flint. “Didn’t you mention needing to go over the roster with Hack? He’s been looking for you.”

Haruto blinked, clearly taken off guard. “Oh, uh… I guess I should—”

“Yeah, you should,” Sabo interrupted, the edge in his voice unmistakable.

Haruto hesitated for a moment before nodding awkwardly and excusing himself, leaving you standing there with an amused tilt to your head.

“Was that really necessary?” you asked, crossing your arms and fixing him with a look that was equal parts curiosity and exasperation.

“Just doing my job,” Sabo said casually, shoving his hands into his pockets and rocking back on his heels. “Can’t have the new guy slacking off.”

“Right,” you said, drawing the word out. “Because you’re always this strict with new recruits.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but the way your eyes sparkled with amusement threw him off balance. He sighed, running a hand through his blond hair. “Okay, fine. Maybe I overreacted. A little.”

“A little?” you echoed, stepping closer. “Sabo, you were practically bristling.”

He laughed lightly, but it lacked his usual confidence. “I just didn’t like the way he was acting so familiar with you. That’s all.”

“And why does that bother you?” you pressed, your tone teasing but gentle, like you already knew the answer.

Sabo faltered, his usual quick wit failing him. He looked at you, the way your brows arched in question, the way your lips curled into a small, knowing smile, and he felt like he was standing on a precipice.

“I don’t know,” he muttered finally, though even he didn’t believe it.

Your smile softened, and you reached out, nudging his shoulder. “You’re a terrible liar, you know that?”

“Am I?” he said, forcing a grin to cover the heat creeping up his neck.

“Yeah,” you replied, your voice quieter now. “But I like that about you.”

The words hit him harder than he expected, and for a moment, Sabo was left speechless, staring at you like he was seeing you for the first time.

Koala’s voice called out from across the camp, snapping him back to reality. He cleared his throat, stepping back and shoving his hands into his pockets again.

“I’ve got work to do,” he said, his tone a little too brisk as he turned on his heel. “Stay out of trouble.”

You watched him go, a small smile playing on your lips. And as Sabo walked away, he realized he couldn’t shake the quiet, nagging thought that maybe—just maybe—he was in deeper than he’d ever intended.

bestfriend!sabo who postpones his confession every time, settling with a fear of ruining your friendships.

Sabo watched from a distance as you moved through the camp, always surrounded by people. You were the one who gave advice when someone needed it, the one who patched up a scraped knee or shared a smile with a tired recruit. Everyone admired you—hell, even Sabo found himself caught up in your warmth sometimes, when you weren’t looking.

But lately, it felt like you were slipping further away from him.

"Hey, Sabo!" You waved as you passed him, your smile as bright as ever. He didn’t miss the way your eyes sparkled as you chatted with the others. You were always so kind, so busy with your endless list of responsibilities. It was like the world had discovered how incredible you were, and now everyone wanted a piece of you.

“Busy?” he asked, his tone light, though there was a slight heaviness to it as he watched you interact with yet another group of people.

You paused, looking guilty for a second. "I wish I could stay and hang out, but you know how it is. There’s always something that needs my attention.”

He nodded, smiling back even though a part of him twisted with the unspoken words he kept swallowing. “I get it. Don’t let me keep you.”

You gave him a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes this time, as though you knew there was something he wasn’t saying. “I’ll catch up with you later, alright?”

“Sure,” he said, his voice a little quieter than usual. As you moved on, Sabo stood there, rooted in place, watching you disappear into another conversation. The lump in his throat felt heavier.

He always told himself the same thing.

Not yet. Not now. Wait for the right moment.

But the right moment never seemed to come.

Days passed like this—long stretches where he could hardly find a moment with you alone. You were everywhere, helping others, being kind and thoughtful, making people laugh, lifting their spirits. You were always giving, always there, and Sabo adored you for it. But now, with every shared smile and every lingering conversation with others, he felt his chance slipping further away.

Sabo didn’t want to admit it, but he feared that if he told you how he felt, it would change everything. What if she doesn’t feel the same? What if she starts pulling away because of it?

And then there was the fear of losing his best friend. What if this was just a temporary feeling? What if, after the confession, things felt awkward and strained? He could never let that happen. Not with you.

Still, it gnawed at him. Every time you laughed with someone else, every time you looked so busy that you didn’t have a moment for him, it felt like something was slipping through his fingers.

One evening, after a long day of training, Sabo found you alone by the campfire, the crackling flames casting a soft glow on your face. You looked peaceful, wrapped up in the warmth of the fire, your eyes half-closed as if you were trying to rest.

Sabo hesitated as he stood at the edge of the firelight, his heart pounding. This was it.

“Hey,” he said quietly, trying to keep his voice steady.

You turned to him, that familiar, welcoming smile spreading across your face. “Hey, Sabo. You doing alright?”

He stepped forward, his hands slipping into his pockets. “Yeah, just… thinking about things.”

“You’ve been doing that a lot lately,” you noted, your tone teasing but there was a softness in it too, like you noticed more than he realized.

He opened his mouth to say something, but the words stuck in his throat. Instead, he simply nodded, taking a seat beside you by the fire.

For a long moment, the two of you sat in comfortable silence, the crackling fire the only sound between you.

“Things have been busy, huh?” Sabo said, finally breaking the quiet.

“Yeah,” you agreed with a sigh, staring into the flames. “I feel like I barely have time for anyone anymore.”

“You don’t even have time for me anymore,” Sabo joked, though there was an edge to his words he couldn’t hide.

You looked at him, your brow furrowing in concern. “Sabo, I—”

He raised a hand quickly, shaking his head. “It’s fine. I get it. I'm happy that your getting the recognition you deserve it.” His smile was faint, almost apologetic, as if he was trying to brush it off.

But you didn’t let him. You leaned closer, your voice soft. “Thank you punk, and I’m never too busy for you. I’ll always make time for you, Sabo. You know that.”

Your words hit him harder than he expected, and for a moment, he simply stared at you, caught off guard.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice quiet. “I know. I just… I guess I miss us, you know? Things were simpler when it was just the two of us. Before everyone else started needing you.”

You tilted your head, studying him with that soft, understanding gaze. “You still have me, Sabo. Nothing’s changed.”

He forced a smile, but his heart felt heavy in his chest. He wanted so badly to believe you—wanted to tell you how much you meant to him, how much more you meant than just a friend—but the fear of ruining it all made his throat close.

“I know,” he muttered. “It’s just… things are different now.”

You reached out, nudging his shoulder with yours. “We’ll figure it out, okay? I’m not going anywhere.”

Sabo nodded, swallowing the words he wanted to say. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe next time. its fine.

bestfriend!sabo who allowed for the crazies to take over his mind. The days had started to blur together for Sabo. The more he tried to ignore it, the more the tension between you two grew. He could feel it every time you were near—how his heart raced a little faster when your fingers brushed just for you to pass, how the sound of your laughter made him ache.

For weeks now, he had been pushing down the words, burying them as deep as he could. He convinced himself that it was nothing—that it was just some passing phase or a product of their shared long hours spent together. But the longer he ignored it, the more it ate away at him, gnawing at his insides until he couldn’t bear to be around you without feeling suffocated by his own emotions.

And so, he started to pull away.

It started small—a little more space between the two of you during conversations, a slight distance when you would sit together by the campfire or share those moments where you were once inseparable. The subtle shifts didn’t go unnoticed by you, but you didn’t say anything right away.

You didn’t have to. You saw it in his eyes—the way they would briefly glance away every time your hand brushed against his, the way his voice held an unnatural edge when he spoke to you, even though his words were still casual.

It hurt, but you couldn’t understand why he was doing this. You’d always been there for each other, the best of friends, so why was he pushing you away now? What had changed?

Sabo sat alone that evening on a secluded hill overlooking the camp. The quiet of the night surrounded him, but it didn’t bring him the usual peace. His thoughts were like a storm—chaotic, tumbling over themselves, and it was hard to find a way out.

Maybe it’s better this way, he told himself, his fingers gripping the edge of his jacket tightly. If I just stay distant, keep my distance… Maybe this feeling will go away. Maybe I can just be the friend she needs, nothing more. She deserves someone who can be more than that, someone who’s not afraid of ruining everything.

But the more he told himself that, the more his chest tightened. He was so used to hiding his emotions behind sarcasm and teasing, but this—this was different.

He heard footsteps behind him before he saw you, and he stiffened, not wanting you to see the way his hands trembled at his sides.

"Sabo," you said softly, your voice cutting through the night air. "We need to talk."

He turned to look at you, but his eyes were guarded, his usual cocky demeanor nowhere to be found. He forced a smile, trying to act like everything was normal. "Talk about what?"

"You’ve been avoiding me," you said, your eyes searching his face for any trace of the old Sabo, the one who had never needed to put up walls. "You’re distancing yourself, and I don’t get it. What’s going on?"

His heart hammered in his chest. This was it. The moment he’d been trying to avoid. He could see the hurt in your eyes, the confusion, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it—not when it could tear everything apart.

"I just… I’ve been busy," Sabo muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, but it was a lie. You both knew it was. "You’ve got enough on your plate without worrying about me."

Your gaze softened, but there was still a trace of disbelief. "Sabo, I know you. And I know something’s been off. Don’t lie to me. I can take it."

He looked away, his hands clenched into fists in his lap. "It’s just that… I can’t keep doing this."

You stepped closer, your concern deepening. "Doing what?"

"This," he said, the words coming out harsh, though he wasn’t sure where the anger was coming from. "This… whatever this is. I can’t just keep pretending like I don’t feel something every time you’re near me, every time you smile, every time you laugh. But it’s not right, alright? You’re too important to me. I can’t risk losing that."

The confession hung between you both, the weight of it settling over him like a suffocating cloud. He wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince you or himself, but his voice cracked, his resolve breaking in the face of his own truth.

You stood frozen, staring at him. The pieces started to come together, and as they did, it felt like everything made sense—the way he’d pulled back, the way he kept putting space between you, the way he had been hiding behind false smiles and forced conversations.

"Why didn’t you tell me sooner?" you asked, your voice a mixture of frustration and hurt.

Sabo opened his mouth, but no words came out. He couldn’t find them. How could he explain this? How could he explain how much he cared for you without ruining the one thing that had always kept him tethered to you? The one thing that had always made him feel safe.

"I didn’t want to ruin everything," he whispered. "I didn’t want to lose you."

And then, before he could stop himself, the flood of emotions he had been holding back for so long spilled out. He stood and faced you, his eyes intense, but there was vulnerability in them that you rarely saw. "I thought if I stayed away, if I made it easier for both of us, maybe I could forget… maybe I could stop caring like I do. But I can’t. I love you."

You blinked in shock, your breath catching.

Sabo’s heart twisted in fear. "I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to ruin us."

For a long, excruciating moment, you said nothing. you really tried. But then you stepped forward, your fingers lightly touching his wrist, grounding him.

"You��re not going to lose me, Sabo," you said quietly, the softness in your voice breaking through his fears. you cup his face to look at you brushing under his eyes "and you were not going to ruin us."

And before he could even process what was happening, you pulled him to you, your lips meeting his in a kiss. Sabo’s breath hitched, his entire body melting into your own touch.

The kiss was everything he had been holding back for so long and more—urgent, fierce, and full of an aching kind of need that Sabo had never allowed himself to feel before. His mind was racing, but the only thing that mattered in that moment was the way your soft lips pressed against his. His chest tightened as he pulled you closer, his hands trembling a bit.

The kiss deepened almost instinctively, his lips moving against yours with a hunger that surprised even him. Every inch of him seemed to burn with the realization that this was real. The days that felt like years of keeping his feelings locked away, of pretending he didn't care in ways deeper than just friends, were gone. There was only you.

Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, and Sabo couldn’t help but let out a small, breathless laugh against your lips. His hands slid down your back, pulling you even closer.

"Thank you" he murmured before dusting your face in kisses leaving you to giggle under his hold.

#one piece #sabo x reader #sabo fanart #sabo x you #sabo fluff #fanfic #becertainlust #one piece x you #straw hat pirates #one piece x reader #one piece headcanons

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claramelooo · 19 hours ago

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CRIMSON REVERIE

Literaries references today, huh? I hope you like it.

MINORS DO NOT MUST INTERACT

Warning: +18, NSFW, Dirty talk, feet fetish

Summary: The witch makes you hers, finally.

Hey! Now I've a masterlist

POETRY

The days after the camp were a mixture of tension and inevitability. You and Wanda seemed to orbit each other, like planets drawn by the gravity of something far greater than either of you was willing to admit.

In the classroom, the glances between you two grew more intense. Sometimes, you could feel her gaze fixed on you, so burning that it was impossible not to shiver. Once, while reading aloud, your voice faltered because Wanda tilted her head subtly, her green eyes evaluating every detail of you as if you were the only thing that mattered in that moment.

The atmosphere felt heavy, as if the air was thick with something no one could explain, but which you felt deeply.

You felt her gaze land on you from time to time. It wasn’t just any look—it was something burning, filled with intensity, as if she were waiting for you to do something, anything, to draw her attention even more.

The classroom was immersed in an almost reverent silence, except for Wanda Maximoff’s soft voice as she read a passage from Crime and Punishment. She moved between the desks with a copy of the book in hand, the afternoon light streaming through the windows and illuminating her red hair like a profane halo.

“‘Man has become so accustomed to reasoning about everything and always on the basis of arguments that he has forgotten it is also possible to argue against his own arguments.’” She closed the book with a gentle motion, but the snap of the cover echoed through the room like a warning.

Her eyes rose to the students but landed on you with surgical precision. A familiar heat climbed your neck, and you looked away, pretending to jot something in your notebook.

"Y/n," she called, and your heart nearly stopped. "What’s your interpretation of this passage?"

You lifted your eyes slowly, feeling the weight of her stare. Wanda tilted her head slightly, her lips curling into a smile that only you could decipher: provocation, curiosity, and something much deeper.

"Well..." you began, trying to keep your voice steady. "Maybe it’s about how people can rationalize even what they know is wrong. Justifying the unjustifiable. A kind of... psychological game, maybe."

She narrowed her eyes, clearly amused. "Interesting. But do you think it’s just a game? That there are no consequences for those who play it?"

The hidden meaning behind her words hit you like a blow. Your defiant gaze met hers, and a tense silence filled the room.

"That depends," you replied, holding her gaze. "Some games are worth the risk. As long as the players are willing to go all the way."

The students exchanged confused glances, feeling the weight in the air but unable to grasp the true reason.

Yelena, sitting two seats over, raised an exaggerated eyebrow, her eyes darting between you and Wanda as if trying to piece together a complicated puzzle. She leaned toward Bucky, who was on the other side, and whispered: “What the hell is she doing?”

Bucky bit the end of his pen, clearly trying not to laugh. “No idea, but... this is weird as hell.”

"Weird?" Yelena rolled her eyes. "This is a show. Don’t you feel it? It’s like watching a Russian soap opera, but without subtitles."

Bucky gave her a light slap on the arm, stifling a laugh. “Shut up; Bishop’s taking notes. She might sell the script later.”

Kate, sitting further back, looked at them with a mock-indignant expression. “I’m here trying to understand Dostoevsky, and you two are commentating like it’s halftime at a game?”

Yelena shrugged, gesturing toward the teacher. “Sorry, but Maximoff’s looking at Y/n like she’s about to eat her. How do you expect us to focus?”

You heard the whispers and felt your face heat even more, but you didn’t dare turn to face them. Instead, you focused on Wanda, who seemed perfectly unaware of the murmurs—or, more likely, ignored them because she was too busy teasing you.

Yelena crossed her arms, a mischievous grin forming on her lips. “This is gonna go south, Buck.”

Bucky snorted. “It’s already gone south. What’s left is how far.”

Wanda couldn’t deny it—you were a daring little brat. Too clever for your own good, confident in a way that made her skin prickle with irritation—and something darker, more visceral. It was like watching someone play a dangerous game without understanding the stakes. And yet, it drew her in, making her fingers itch with need.

"Interesting perspective, Y/n," Wanda said, her voice low, almost lazy, as she approached your desk. Each step seemed calculated, and the sound of her heels on the floor reverberated through the room like the tick of a countdown clock. She stopped beside you, close enough for you to feel her warmth, and tilted her head with an enigmatic smile. "But sometimes, it’s worth remembering that some players might not be as prepared as they think. Wouldn’t you agree?"

You lifted your eyes to her, meeting the gaze that seemed determined to unravel you completely. “Sometimes you just have to play to find out how far you can go,” you murmured, your voice firm, though the heat in your cheeks betrayed your vulnerability.

Wanda felt a wave of desire and frustration mingle. How dare you? Here, in front of everyone, with no fear. She wanted to smile, but the control she needed to exert was like a tight chain around her will. Her instincts screamed to put you in your place, to shatter that confidence that challenged her at every turn.

She stepped back with the same calculated calm, but inside, she felt the tension pulsing through every cell. Her fingers tingled with the desire to trace your jawline, to replace that defiant smile with something softer, more submissive.

The room seemed to hold its breath, every student frozen in the moment, unsure of what exactly was happening. But Wanda knew. And you knew. And, in that instant, she promised herself that the lesson she’d mentioned would be taught—intensely, memorably, and entirely on her terms.

Then, the shrill sound of the bell echoed through the room, and the students began to rise, packing their things as the buzz of conversation grew. You prepared to leave too, but before you could take more than two steps, Wanda passed by you, her intoxicating perfume filling the air.

She leaned in slightly, her lips almost brushing your ear, and murmured low but firm: “My office. Now.”

The commanding tone made your legs tremble, and you barely managed to gather your notebooks, each movement hesitant and clumsy. When you arrived at her office, the atmosphere felt stiflingly charged. The door barely closed behind you before Wanda turned and crossed the space with quick steps.

Without warning, her hands grabbed your arms, pulling you close, your back colliding with the wooden desk. The sound of objects shifting on impact seemed insignificant compared to the weight of the moment.

"How dare you?" Wanda whispered, her voice low yet brimming with authority and something more—something that made every cell in your body vibrate.

Her hands were firm and possessive against your body, exploring without hesitation, marking you with her heavy touch. Her eyes glowed with a hypnotic red, and you felt as though you were being pulled into an abyss.

You should have apologized, should have yielded, but instead, your hand reached up, cupping her face as you pulled her into an urgent and dominating kiss. Your lips collided as if the world were ending, as if time was too fleeting for hesitation.

Wanda responded with a low growl, her fingers gripping your waist tightly enough to leave marks. Her taste was intoxicating—a blend of control and desire that made your head spin. You felt like you were drowning in the red sea that was Wanda Maximoff, and there was nothing in the world you wanted more than to lose yourself completely in that ocean.

The room seemed to vibrate with the energy radiating from Wanda. Objects around you began to tremble, then levitate. Books, chairs, and even the desk started floating in the air, swirling in a chaotic vortex of pure power.

Wanda pushed you further against the desk as she herself seemed consumed by the intensity of her emotions. Her hand moved to encircle your neck, her fingers firm but calculated, as if she measured her strength precisely.

"You're such a naughty girl..." her voice was low, husky, almost a purr. "It drives me crazy to—"

Her sentence broke off, her breath ragged as her eyes burned a vivid red. The scarlet hue spread throughout the room, enveloping everything. You felt a wave of heat and power coursing through the space, making your skin tingle.

Her hands on your neck were firm, possessive, but far from cruel. The control Wanda maintained, even with her powers teetering on the edge of chaos, was overwhelmingly impressive. The pressure was just enough to make you feel small, vulnerable—exactly as she wanted.

"I should punish you for being so defiant," she continued, her voice dripping with desire and authority, her fingers tightening slightly as she tilted her head to watch you with hungry eyes. "You provoke me, and now... you should face the consequences, don't you think, little one?"

The chaos in the room intensified. Books flew open, pages ripping through the magical crimson wind, chairs spinning in the air, and the sound of furniture crashing against walls was muffled by the pounding of your heartbeat. It was mesmerizing—the woman before you truly powerful.

And you knew you should fear her.

But you weren't afraid. The heat rising through your body was more intense than anything else, an intoxicating blend of submission and excitement. You met Wanda's eyes, making it clear you didn't want to stop.

Her smile was predatory, satisfied, as she leaned in to claim your mouth again. The kiss was overwhelming, a reflection of the storm around you, and you lost yourself in it, lost in the red sea that was Wanda Maximoff.

You gasped when Wanda finally loosened her grip on your neck, but the red glow in her eyes still burned. Your mind was a mess, every part of your body pulsing in response to her touch. But you didn't want to surrender completely—not yet.

"Is that all you've got?" The words slipped out before you could think, your tone full of provocation. Your chest heaved, adrenaline mixed with desire coursing through every fiber of your being.

Her smile vanished for a moment, replaced by something far more dangerous. Her eyes narrowed as she pulled you even closer, your bodies practically pressed together. "You really want to play with fire, my little girl?"

"Maybe," you replied, feeling the heat rise to your face. "Or maybe I just think the Scarlet Witch isn't all she's cracked up to be."

Her reaction was instant. The red in the room exploded in intensity, and for a moment, it seemed like the very air vibrated. Her hands released your body, but only because she took a step back, her gaze fixed on you as if deciding what to do.

A whirlwind formed around your bodies, lifting you slightly off the ground.

"You have no idea who you're dealing with," she whispered, but there was something deeper in her voice, a tone that didn’t belong solely to Wanda.

That’s when you saw it. The red in her eyes intensified, her pupils consumed by the scarlet glow. Her posture shifted, her shoulders straighter, her head tilted in a way that exuded pure power.

"Oh, you wanted to play, didn't you?" Her voice was different, deeper, laden with an energy that made your knees tremble. "Now you have my full attention."

Your breath hitched as the Scarlet Witch stepped forward, her power so palpable it weighed down the air.

She raised a hand, and you were pulled closer without her needing to touch you. Her gaze was locked onto yours, both challenging and ravenous. "Now tell me, little rebel," she teased, her smile almost cruel. "Is this what you wanted? The real me?"

You swallowed hard but still found the strength to respond. "Maybe I just wanted to see how far you'd go."

Her laugh echoed through the room, low and dangerous, as the chaos around you intensified. "You have no idea, my dear. But I'll show you. Slowly. Until you can't take it anymore."

She extended a hand, the crimson glow dancing at her fingertips as the world around you seemed to vanish, leaving only you and her in the eye of a scarlet storm.

"I bet you were crazy for this too," Wanda murmured against your neck as she marked it with her teeth. "God— I can smell you from here."

Wanda's kiss was devastating, a collision of desire and possessiveness that left you utterly breathless. Your lips moved against hers with overwhelming intensity, as if the entire world had vanished, leaving only her. When you finally pulled apart, a thread of saliva, glistening and tinged crimson, connected you—a vivid reminder of the fervor you had shared.

You felt like you were in heaven, in a place no one had ever taken you before. Your heart pounded in your chest, your entire body trembling from a mix of excitement and shock. Wanda's hands roamed boldly over your body, leaving a trail of heat wherever they touched.

But then reality hit you like a cold wave. This wasn’t right. It wasn’t right with Vision, with her children, and not even with yourself.

“Wanda, wait," you murmured, your voice trembling as you grasped her wrist, halting her touch that was making your head spin.

It took her a moment to process your words, her red eyes still blazing with raw energy. Her primal instincts were on full display, and for a moment, it seemed as though she couldn’t hear anything beyond the call of her own hunger.

"What now?" she whispered, her voice hoarse, still dripping with desire.

"This... isn’t right," you stammered, your eyes filled with a mix of guilt and confusion. "Vision, the boys... you..."

Wanda blinked, as if your words had finally pierced through her haze. The red glow in her eyes gradually dimmed, the intensity giving way to something more human—something more painful.

"Shit," she muttered under her breath, pulling away from you, her hands still trembling. She ran a hand through her hair, messing it up as she tried to compose herself. "Shit, shit, shit."

The frustration in her voice was palpable, but there was also something else—a guilt buried deep, like a twisted knife in her chest.

"You promised you’d sort things out soon!" you burst out, your voice louder than you intended, but the frustration that had been building for days needed release. "I’m here, Wanda. I’m waiting for you. And in the meantime, I’m stuck in this limbo, not knowing what’s real or what you want from me!"

Her eyes narrowed, and for a moment, the silence between you was heavy as lead. Then Wanda took a step back, her fists clenched, but her gaze still fixed on you.

"You think this is easy for me?" Her voice was low, almost a growl. "You think I don’t think about this every second? That I don’t want to throw everything away and just... take you away? Make you mine?"

You swallowed hard but didn’t back down. "Then why don’t you? Why keep playing with me like I’m just... another piece on your chessboard?"

Wanda laughed, but it was hollow, devoid of humor. "Because it’s not just about you and me, Y/n! Do you understand what’s at stake here? My life. My children. My reputation. Everything I’ve built could fall apart because of this."

"And what about me?!" you shot back, tears stinging your eyes, though you refused to let them fall. "Am I the only one who has to carry this alone? To deal with the guilt, the doubt, the desire? Because it feels like while you can have me and still keep everything intact, I only have you."

Wanda hesitated, and for the first time, you saw something like vulnerability in her eyes. But it was fleeting, replaced quickly by the fire you knew so well.

"You think I don’t feel the same?" she asked, stepping closer to you again, her voice softer but loaded with emotion. "You think I’m not drowning in this as much as you are?"

"Then why does it feel like I’m the only one losing control?" you murmured, your voice now shaky.

Wanda sighed, running a hand through her hair, as though trying to pull herself together but failing miserably. "Because I’m good at hiding it, Y/n. I had to learn. But you..." She stopped, her eyes scanning your face, your body. "You’re so young. So raw. Perfect to mold—" Her hands trembled with a deep excitement. "And that’s what destroys me. Because when I’m with you, I forget everything that’s supposed to matter. Everything that’s supposed to hold me back."

Her words tightened a knot in your chest, because they echoed a truth you couldn’t admit to yourself. "And now?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Wanda stepped even closer, her hands cupping your face with a gentleness that seemed at odds with the intensity you’d just shared. "Now, we drown together," she said, her eyes blazing again, but this time with something deeper, more sincere. "Because I’m not letting you go. And I know you won’t either."

You both remained silent for a long moment after your intense exchange of words. The weight of tension still hung heavily in the air, but now there was something different—an undeniable determination in her green eyes. She began pacing the room, clearly trying to organize her thoughts.

"I can’t keep doing this," she finally said, abruptly stopping and turning to face you.

You frowned, confused. "What do you mean?"

"Wanting you close but having to hold back. Trying to keep up appearances while feeling like I’m going to explode every time I see you."

Your heart pounded in your chest, but you kept your tone cautious. "So, what are you thinking?"

A small smile curled her lips—not the warm smile you sometimes saw, but something more calculated, almost predatory. "I’ve had an idea, my sweet. And maybe it’ll be enough until I can sort things out."

Wanda stepped closer, leaning in as if to share a forbidden secret. "The boys need a private tutor. Someone to help them with the subjects they’re struggling with."

You blink, processing her words. "And you want me to... be that person?"

Her smile widened, as though she was pleased with how quickly you’d caught on. "Of course. This way, I can keep an eye on you without having to come up with excuses. Without needing to hide how much I want to be near you."

The idea made your head spin. "Wanda, that’s... complicated. Wouldn’t it seem strange? What about Vision?"

The smile faded for a moment, and her eyes glinted with something darker. "Vision is gone most of the time, busy with work. And as for complicated..." She moved even closer, her breath warm against your skin. "We’re already complicated, Y/n. This just makes things easier."

You felt your resistance melt under her intense gaze. "And the boys?"

"They’ll love you," she said, as though there was no doubt about it. "Besides, you’re smart, patient, and..." Her fingers slid down your arm, her eyes glowing with a mix of desire and adoration. "I trust no one else near them. Or near me."

It was a dangerous proposition—an invitation to dive even deeper into something that already felt impossible to escape. But the way she looked at you, as if the entire universe revolved around you, made it impossible to say no.

"Alright," you finally murmured, feeling as though you were crossing an invisible but definitive line. "I’ll do it."

The smile Wanda gave you was both triumphant and filled with something you couldn’t entirely identify. She reached up to caress your face, her fingers warm against your skin. "You made the right choice, darling. Trust me. I’ll take care of everything for us."

[...]

The Saturday morning dawned sunny, but inside Wanda's house, the atmosphere was a meticulously orchestrated chaos.

"Billy, Tommy, have you cleaned your rooms? I don't want anything out of place!" Wanda called from the kitchen while arranging a plate of freshly baked cookies on the table.

Billy sighed loudly from upstairs. "I already did, Mom! Why does she even need to see my room, anyway?"

Tommy appeared in the living room with a bored expression. "It's just a tutor, Mom. Chill."

Wanda stopped, looking at him with an intensity that made him take a step back. "She's more than that. I want you to make a good impression—no, a great one. Understood?"

The boys exchanged knowing glances but said nothing more. They knew arguing with their mother in this state was pointless.

But if she wasn’t just a tutor, then what was she?

Wanda adjusted the couch pillows for the tenth time and looked around. The house was spotless, the aroma of cookies filling the air. She took a deep breath, feeling the growing excitement in her chest. "Everything needs to be perfect," she murmured to herself.

And then, the doorbell rang.

When you stepped in, Wanda was at the door with a smile that seemed a little wider than usual, the gleam in her eyes betraying her excitement. Seeing you in her home, with her kids—your kids—made everything feel so right.

"Welcome, Y/n. It’s so good to see you."

You smiled shyly, holding a small backpack. "Thank you, professor. It’s a pleasure to be here."

Wanda gestured for you to come in. "Please, just Wanda here. Come, I want to introduce you to the boys."

Billy and Tommy were in the living room, sitting on the couch, clearly curious but trying to play it cool.

"Boys, this is Y/n, your new tutor. Y/n, these are my sons, Billy and Tommy."

You waved a little nervously. "Hi, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I hope we can have fun while learning."

Billy smiled shyly. "Hi."

Tommy was more straightforward. "My mom says you’re funny. Is that true?"

You chuckled softly, relaxing a bit. "Well, that depends on you. But I can try."

Tommy tilted his head, a glint of challenge already in his eyes. "Then show me what you’ve got."

You tilted your head, thinking for a moment before saying:

"Alright, here goes: Why did the book go to the hospital?"

Tommy frowned, confused. "Why?"

Billy, now curious, asked, "What happened to it?"

You gave a playful smile. "Because it broke its spine!"

Billy burst out laughing while Tommy tried to hold back but ended up laughing too, shaking his head.

"That was terrible!" Tommy said, but the grin on his face gave away that he enjoyed it.

"Terrible? I’d call it genius," you replied, crossing your arms with an air of mock superiority.

"Yeah. She’s kinda cool," Tommy muttered to Billy, who nodded in agreement.

You asked them to sit down and share which subjects they found most challenging. Billy and Tommy glanced at each other, as if sharing a secret no one else could understand. The silent connection between them was so palpable that you felt a pang of affection.

"History," they replied in unison, making you chuckle softly, fascinated by how synchronized they were, even in the smallest details.

The twins were captivating. Their eyes sparkled with intelligence and a lively energy that felt familiar, as if a piece of Wanda was in each of them, yet they were uniquely themselves. You couldn’t help but be charmed, feeling something warm bloom in your chest—a feeling you couldn’t quite name.

"History…" You held the word in the air for a moment, as if it had weight. "Can you be more specific? Art history? Greek history? Norse history? American history?" You offered the options playfully, but they didn’t seem very impressed.

"All of them," they replied without hesitation, their casual tone making you raise your eyebrows.

You narrowed your eyes, leaning slightly forward as if engaging in a silent duel. "Alright, gentlemen… Listen closely," you began, your voice taking on a solemn yet warm tone. "I’m going to make you love history. Or my name isn’t Y/n."

The defiant tone awakened something in the boys. Tommy crossed his arms with a mischievous grin, while Billy tried to maintain a serious expression but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Alright, Miss,” Tommy replied, his tone brimming with competitive enthusiasm. “We accept your challenge.”

Billy nodded, his eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Let’s see if you can do it.”

As you observed them, you realized that in just a few minutes, they had already tugged at your heartstrings. They weren’t just adorable; they were spirited, curious, and full of life. You smiled at them, feeling a connection growing—a quiet and unexpected bond, like their presence filled a space you hadn’t known was empty.

You picked up a book on Greek mythology and stood in front of the boys, holding it as if it were a secret treasure. “Ready to dive into tales of gods, monsters, and heroes?” you asked, your eyes sparkling with excitement.

Billy and Tommy nodded eagerly, their gazes fixed on you.

“It all begins at the dawn of time, when there was nothing but chaos,” you said, spreading your arms dramatically, as if summoning the void. “Then, suddenly, Gaia, the Earth, and Uranus, the Sky, were born. They had children... lots of children. But do you know what Uranus did?”

The boys shook their heads, curiosity piqued.

“He got scared of them! So, he locked them in Tartarus, the deepest, darkest place in the world.” You leaned closer, lowering your voice to build suspense. “But one of them, Cronus, wasn’t having it. He rebelled and became the king of the gods.”

“That’s so cool,” Tommy murmured, his eyes wide.

“Oh, but wait,” you said, raising a finger. “Cronus had a problem. A prophecy said one of his children would overthrow him. So, do you know what he did?”

“What?” Billy asked, completely engrossed.

“He… ate his own children!” you exclaimed, mimicking the gesture with your hands as if devouring something.

“Ew, gross!” Tommy said, wrinkling his nose but laughing at the same time.

“But,” you continued, lifting a finger theatrically, “their mother, Rhea, wasn’t about to let that happen. She hid the youngest, Zeus, and gave Cronus a rock wrapped in cloth instead. Cronus didn’t even notice!”

Billy burst out laughing. “What an idiot!”

“And then Zeus grew up, defeated Cronus, saved his siblings, and became the king of the gods. Which leads to a ton of other crazy stories... but this is just the beginning.”

At that moment, you noticed Wanda standing in the doorway, watching the scene with a nearly imperceptible smile on her lips.

“You’re impressing the boys,” she commented, her voice soft but full of something that made your heart skip a beat.

You shrugged, trying to hide your blush. “Well, with a story like that, it’s hard not to keep their attention, right?”

“It’s more than that,” Wanda replied, her eyes glinting with something you couldn’t quite decipher. “You have a special way with them. And with stories.”

“I like kids. And stories,” you whispered, just for her.

You turned back to the boys, smiling. “Alright, next question: Who thinks they’d have the guts to face a titan like Cronus?”

“Me!” Tommy immediately raised his hand.

“And me!” Billy chimed in excitedly.

You laughed, charmed by their energy. “Well, let’s see how you do in the next challenges!”

As you continued the story, you felt Wanda’s gaze still on you. It wasn’t just pride for the boys or appreciation for your teaching methods. It was something deeper, more complex—something as ancient and powerful as the myths you were recounting.

Wanda stood by the garden door, arms crossed, watching the scene with a mix of curiosity and disbelief. From a shaded spot near the garden, she observed the boys laughing and running around you, completely immersed in the recreation of the mythological battle. Their laughter filled the air, a melody that warmed something deep within her chest.

Her eyes drifted back to you. It wasn’t just the way the boys responded to your presence that fascinated her, but also the energy you exuded. There was a passion in your movements, a genuine joy that seemed to radiate and infect everything around you.

But at the same time, there was something more. The sparkle in your eyes when you spoke to the twins, the way you seemed so at ease, even in a new environment… It all made Wanda feel unsettled, as if she were witnessing something that belonged to her being contested.

Out in the garden, you set up an improvised scene. The hose and sprinkler were strategically positioned, ready to represent the turbulent sea that separated the gods from the Norse giants. In one hand, you held a bucket with diluted red paint—your version of mythological blood.

"Alright, warriors!" you said, placing your hands on your hips and addressing Billy and Tommy as if you were about to lead an army. "Today, we're going to reenact one of the greatest battles in Norse mythology: the fight between Thor and Jörmungandr, the World Serpent!"

Tommy blinked, intrigued. "Who’s Jörmun…gandr?" He struggled with the name, making you smile at his cuteness.

"It’s a giant serpent so big it wraps around the world and bites its own tail," you explained, moving your hands in a large circle. "And guess who fights it in the final battle?"

"Thor!" Billy exclaimed enthusiastically.

"Exactly!" you replied, pointing at him as if he’d just earned points. "And today, one of you will be Thor, and the other will be Jörmungandr!"

The two exchanged glances, already excited.

"I’m Thor!" Tommy shouted, lifting a garden spade like a hammer.

"Then I’m the serpent!" Billy declared, grabbing a hose and swinging it as if it were the tail of a giant reptile.

You began narrating, swirling the red paint as if creating a storm in the bucket. "The sea is raging! The sky fills with thunder as Thor approaches the monster!" You turned on the sprinkler, and the spray of water began soaking everyone, simulating the turbulent sea.

"I attack first!" Billy yelled, spraying water from the hose at Tommy.

"Thor doesn’t back down from danger!" you narrated as Tommy charged forward with his spade. "He raises his hammer and—"

"I hit the serpent’s head!" Tommy shouted, lightly striking the ground near Billy with his spade.

"But Jörmungandr doesn’t surrender easily!" you cried, pouring a bit of red paint on the ground around them to simulate spilled blood. "The serpent coils around the hero, trying to crush him!"

Billy began spinning around Tommy, holding the hose as if it were the serpent’s body.

Wanda appeared at the garden door, crossing her arms and observing the scene with a mix of curiosity and incredulity. She remained in the shade of a tree near the garden, where the boys laughed and ran around you, completely immersed in the mythological battle reenactment. The sound of their laughter filled the air, a melody that warmed something deep in her chest. She rarely saw them so happy, so at ease with anyone other than herself.

Her gaze shifted to you. It wasn’t just how the boys responded to your presence that fascinated her but the energy you radiated. There was passion in your gestures, a genuine joy that seemed to infect everything around you.

And then, she noticed.

The sprinkler’s water had soaked your clothes. Your white blouse clung to your skin, outlining the curves of your breasts. Your hardened nipples were visible through the thin fabric. A drop of water slid from your chin to your neck, tracing a slow path that disappeared beneath the wet cloth. Your hair, plastered to your face and shoulders, dripped and gleamed under the afternoon sun.

Wanda swallowed hard, trying to look away. But it was impossible. Something about the scene left her… unsettled. It wasn’t just the sight of your body; it was the way you laughed so freely, as if nothing else existed but that moment.

Wanda wanted... She wanted...

“Are you okay, Mom?” Billy asked, running over to her, still holding the hose.

Wanda quickly composed herself, putting on a smile. “Yes, sweetheart. I’m just enjoying the show.”

He grinned and ran back to the “battlefield,” where you were now pretending to be a Norse dragon attacking Thor.

Wanda sighed, crossing her arms. She needed to remember she was in control. But in that moment, watching you and the boys, she wasn’t so sure that was still true.

“You’re all soaked,” she commented, raising an eyebrow.

“And that’s half the fun!” you replied, laughing as more water sprayed around. “Besides, we’re recreating history. Isn’t it amazing?”

“If this is history, I want to learn more!” Billy shouted, laughing as he tried to escape Tommy.

“Thor wins the battle,” you announced dramatically, pointing at Tommy. “But the serpent’s venom is powerful. He takes one last step and… collapses!”

Tommy pretended to faint on the ground, laughing the entire time.

Wanda shook her head, but there was a smile on her face. “I never thought teaching mythology could be so... wet.”

You shrugged, still smiling. “That’s how you learn, Wanda—with fun and, apparently, a little chaos.”

“Just don’t forget, chaos is my specialty,” she replied, her smile turning a little more mischievous.

And for a moment, you felt like you were part of that small, unlikely family.

[...]

When you entered the house, the energy felt different. The boys' laughter still echoed in your ears, but something in the air had shifted. Wanda stood near the door, her eyes fixed on you with an intensity that was hard to ignore. She leaned slightly, her posture elegant, her gaze locked on you as if studying your every move.

“Boys,” she said firmly, “bath time.”

They groaned for a moment but quickly ran upstairs. Wanda remained there, watching them go before turning her attention back to you.

“You’re soaked. Do you want to change?” she asked, her voice soft but tinged with something you couldn’t quite identify.

You swallowed hard, feeling your heart race. “Yes, please.”

She gestured vaguely toward the hallway. “The bathroom is in my room. There’s a clean shirt in the drawer if you want to use it.”

A sudden nervousness swept over you. This wasn’t what you expected. Her bathroom? It made everything feel… personal. A palpable tension settled between the two of you.

“Thank you,” you murmured, trying to sound casual but feeling the heat rising to your face. You turned and began walking toward her bedroom, your heart pounding faster with each step.

Once inside the bathroom, you shut the door with a deep sigh. The sound of the shower water starting seemed amplified, as if every drop marked the rhythm of your nerves. Slowly, you undressed, the tension in your body increasing as you imagined Wanda outside, still watching you somehow.

The warm water couldn’t entirely wash away the unease gripping you. As you lathered up, your thoughts wandered to the possibilities. You knew Wanda was intense, but that simple gesture—offering her bathroom, her shirt—felt loaded with a significance you weren’t prepared to handle.

You hurried through your shower, trying to shake off the insecurities and focus on the moment. But when you stepped out, you felt even more anxious than before. Her shirt was far too big, the soft fabric clinging to your body in an uncomfortably intimate way. Every small movement, every breath seemed amplified in the quiet room.

You were alone, yet you didn’t feel truly alone. The sensation of being watched, even without Wanda there, lingered. Her aura seemed imprinted on the space, almost suffocating.

As you looked around the room, you noticed her meticulously made bed, the pristine white sheets that looked expensive. Your heart tightened at the thought that it wasn’t you sleeping beside her every night. On the right side of the bed—Wanda’s side, you assumed—there was a book on the nightstand. Curious, you picked it up. But the sound of the door opening startled you, and the book slipped from your hands.

“What did I say about snooping?” The redhead entered the room, crossing her arms beneath her chest, making them seem slightly fuller. There was a mix of irritation and amusement in her gaze.

You glanced at the book’s cover one last time before handing it to Wanda. “Jane Austen is a great writer. I like historical romance too.”

Wanda raised an eyebrow, taking the book from her hands with an expression that suggested she was evaluating her intentions. “‘I have many flaws, but not in understanding, I hope. As for my temper, I can’t guarantee it’s very good. I believe it’s a little too harsh for the world’s conveniences. I can’t forget the madness and vices of others as quickly as I should. Nor the offenses they make against me. My feelings don’t flare up with the slightest effort or attempt. My temperament could be called resentful. Once the good opinion I have of a person is lost, it’s lost forever.’”

You were impressed as she recited Darcy effortlessly. It was so quirky! She must have read it countless times.

A delighted smile formed on her lips. “‘This is truly a flaw,’” you began theatrically. “‘Relentless resentment is a trait that marks a character. You’ve chosen your flaw well. In fact, I can’t laugh at it. There’s no need to be afraid of me.’”

“‘I believe that in every temperament, there’s a tendency toward a particular form of evil, a natural vice that even the best education can’t extinguish.’” Wanda pressed her lips together, but there was a spark of amusement in her eyes. She suddenly laughed at your expression, which had become grumpy.

"And your flaw is a tendency to threaten to shoot red power balls at everyone, I imagine," you shot back, just as if you were talking about real life.

"Ah, and yours is irritating everyone with that sharp tongue of yours. I believe that applies perfectly here, by the end of the conversation."

You clicked your tongue before moving closer to her. "No... Darcy was a bit detestable at first. You're more like Katherine from The Taming of the Shrew." Your tone was mocking, but your voice had grown lower, almost intimate.

It’s funny how natural it is that your flirtations and jabs turned into shared literary tastes. Classics are always welcome at the worst of times, and just by Wanda’s deadly gaze, she certainly knows who Katherine is.

Wanda raised an eyebrow, her gaze sharp as a blade. "And I suppose you’re the stubborn beast of Petruchio, aren't you?"

You laughed, closing the distance between you. The heat radiating from her skin was intoxicating. "I don't usually cast myself as the male part of any story, but since you made the comparison... Katherine ends up tamed and married to Petruchio." Your insinuation made Wanda lick her lips, a visible attempt to contain her growing irritation.

"Are you implying you can tame me? As if I were some wild creature?" Wanda stepped forward, and you realized you were about to cross an important line.

You studied her face, every detail—the furrow between her brows, her clenched jaw. She was beautiful, furious, and captivating. Your heart raced, and the desire to kiss her became almost unbearable.

"Not a wild creature, but you can certainly be tamed." Your tone was full of provocation, but the intensity in your eyes betrayed something else.

The pressure in the room intensified, and Wanda’s control shattered. Her powers began to manifest; a faint red glow appeared in her eyes, and objects around you started to levitate slowly. The air grew heavier, charged with tension and raw magic.

"I’d kill you right now if I could," Wanda growled, her voice low and threatening, but her eyes gleamed with something deeper—a conflict between anger and desire.

The fuse. The pulse between your legs was about to drive you crazy. You smiled, a wicked grin full of desire.

"Well, lucky for you, you can't." With a swift movement, you pulled her neck, thrusting your tongue into her mouth. Wanda moaned against your lips, a sound that reverberated through you like an electric shock.

At first, she resisted. Her lips were tense, her body rigid. But then, control shattered completely. Wanda surrendered to the kiss with an almost desperate ferocity, her hands grabbing your hair, pulling you closer.

Objects around you continued to float, creating a chaotic spectacle in the room. But neither of you seemed to care. All that existed was the heat, the touch, the taste of each other.

She pulled you by the hair, seeing her from above—so powerful, it couldn’t be more exciting.

"You’re so unbearable..." She murmured, her lower lip trapped between her teeth.

"Oh, come on! You don’t know the reputation you have at the university?" You shot back, giving her a provocative smile. Wanda's eyes shone wild, and she yanked your hair again, pulling your neck along.

"Say it." She demanded, biting the curve of your ear.

"They say you like this." Your voice came out broken by the small bites Wanda was placing on your neck.

"Like what, dekta?" Her veiny hands caressed your body with lust, and it made your head spin.

"You—"

She interrupted you with a hard bite to your shoulder—it was clear she was taking out her anger on you.

"That I like little girls with a clever mouth? Who like to challenge me so I can break every last bit of their confidence?" The woman bit your breast, still covered by fabric. "Oh, darling. They couldn’t be more right."

And then, there, under Wanda’s command — you understood.

She did it all the time. She diminished you, devalued you on purpose. It didn’t matter how flawless your work was; Wanda always found a way to belittle it, to clip your wings before you could fly. Every sharp remark, every gaze that seemed to pierce through your soul, was carefully calculated to chip away at your confidence. She humiliated you, intimidated you…

And in some twisted way, it aroused you more than you cared to admit.

Never before had you been the object of such specific, visceral attention. It was wrong — you knew that. But the intensity in her gaze, the way she deliberately kept you under her control, stirred something deep within you.

It was a power game — cruel, immoral — yet irresistibly magnetic. And you couldn’t look away.

Wanda tugged harder on your hair, forcing your legs to give out from the pain. "Shh... Don’t fight, darling," she whispered against your lips. "Kneel. Know your place."

Your knees hit the floor, and all you could see was the victorious smile on her face.

"Right beneath me," she murmured. "With those doe-like, pleading eyes." She exhaled deeply, as if she’d been holding her breath for too long.

She stepped back, leaving you staring at the floor alone. The only sound was the soft tapping of her footsteps on the wooden floor and the lingering warmth of her power that filled the room.

When you lifted your head, determined to face her, the sight before you was nothing short of glorious — Wanda seated in a green armchair by the window overlooking the neighborhood. She looked majestic, glowing with a scarlet aura, making it impossible not to submit.

This wasn’t just Wanda Maximoff. This was The Scarlet Witch.

Your mouth went dry. Even without experience, you knew what you wanted — what you needed. But Wanda seemed to know more than you did, because her smug smile only made your core pulse with need. The rhythm of her crossed legs swaying ever so slightly seemed to call to you.

“Crawl.”

The witch’s harsh command struck you, and adrenaline surged through your veins, making you tremble. “Crawl to me, pet, and I’ll spare you.”

A witch like Wanda possessed countless abilities, infinite powers. Yet, as she watched you crawl toward her, Wanda understood the true meaning of power.

It was a feeling that transcended magic, surpassing the control she wielded over the world around her. It was deeper, more primal. The witch within her wanted to claim everything — her space, her pain, her vengeance. But most of all, she wanted to claim you.

When you stopped at her feet, Wanda tilted her head as if examining an unfinished masterpiece. Her hand slid to your face, her touch gentler than she had intended. Her fingers traced the curve of your jaw, trembling slightly when they reached your chin.

Her voice was low but commanding. There was no room for doubt. It wasn’t a request; it was a demand. Her eyes glowed intensely, the energy around her flickering like a halo of power.

She uncrossed her legs with an almost feline grace, letting her bare foot rest on the floor as she leaned back comfortably in the green chair. Every movement she made was imbued with natural sensuality, as if she was born to be worshipped.

“Let’s see if your instincts are as sharp as your tongue,” she teased, a slight smirk on her lips, fully aware you were ensnared in her spell.

You hesitated for a moment, your heart pounding in your chest. Wanda seemed untouchable — like a goddess carved in marble. Strong, imposing, unreachable — and yet, all you wanted was to kneel before her.

Shame and desire blended together. You were desperate to please her, to be worthy of being at her feet.

“I’m waiting,” Wanda arched a brow, her tone impatient. “Or are you all talk? Prove you can do more than provoke.”

Your breath grew heavier as your knees touched the floor once more. Her words echoed like a commandment. Prove yourself. Show her you understand. That she is everything.

Your eyes locked on the delicate curve of her ankle, the bones shifting subtly beneath her pale skin. Her foot was perfect, every detail made to be adored.

Your mouth went dry, but the primal desire rising within you overwhelmed everything else.

Slowly, you tilted your head, never breaking eye contact with Wanda. The world seemed to stop. Nothing else mattered except this moment, the connection between the two of you.

“Good girl,” Wanda’s voice came as a rare praise, sending a shiver down your spine.

You didn’t know if she was using magic or if it was simply the power she had over you, but you felt as though you were under a spell. Every movement you made was guided by an ancient instinct — a desire to worship, to surrender completely.

Your lips brushed against the top of her foot, and Wanda let out a satisfied sigh. The tension in the air shifted, replaced by something more intimate. More profound.

“Keep going.”

You obeyed without hesitation, tracing kisses along the arch of her foot. Your trembling fingers barely dared to touch her. Wanda was more than human. She was pure power, and you felt every particle of it.

Wanda’s eyes closed for a brief moment, her lips parting in a silent sigh. When she looked back at you, there was something softer in her gaze. Admiration? Satisfaction? Perhaps even… affection.

“See how easy that is?” Her voice remained firm, but there was a tenderness hidden within her words. “My little pet knows exactly where she belongs, doesn’t she?”

You nodded, never breaking eye contact.

“Say it.”

Your voice trembled, but it carried truth. “At your feet.”

Wanda’s smile widened, not with arrogance, but with contentment.

“Good girl.”

Then she leaned down just enough to capture your mouth in a bruising kiss, drawing a moan of satisfaction from both of you.

“Mommy should give you your reward now, shouldn’t she?”

Then there was that damned M word that made your belly contract. You squirmed at how hard it was for you to hold back, so you sought some relief in the friction of your own thighs.

Wanda opened herself to you like a flower, and at that moment you discovered that the older woman was not wearing panties, making her bittersweet scent rise to you, making your salivate.

“Do you want it, pet?” She asked, lifting her hips a little so you could see better and you felt like you might faint.

“Please, please…” You found yourself in an endless loop of begging, which made Wanda smile as she panted in lust.

“Such a good girl… She learned so quickly to beg for mommy’s pussy.” She stroked your chin, so gently that you rubbed against her hand like a cat seeking affection from its owner.

“Come, pet. Take it all.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. Giving a big lick with the base of your tongue just to taste it, you hear her take a deep breath, relaxing into the upholstery. Her scent suffocating you and making your eyes roll back.

Letting out a ragged sigh as her warm, soft tongue licked your most intimate juncture, flooding Wanda's senses with intense pleasure. Wanda grips your hair between her fingers, forcing you to look at her.

"Eyes on me, baby girl."

She grinds her hips up involuntarily, seeking more of that skillful, soapy attention. You continue with small kitten licks, leaving Wanda a little trembling with anticipation on top of you. When you move your tongue in large, lazy circles, Wanda moans—encouraging you to push your mouth even further against her pussy.

"Ugh, yes… just like that…"

For Wanda, this was just the beginning. The sordid things she would do to you… Your stupid, naughty little girl mind could not even imagine. The excitement isn't just in the act. In fact, it never was. Everything she imagined since she laid eyes on you. Everything. It was already underway.

Your little face between her legs only proves it.

“Fuck, you're good… so good for your mommy.”

Wanda's moans leave you senseless, her praises blur your mind and you feel like you need a lot more of this. Your mouth moves away from the woman's clit to leave small wet kisses on her thigh.

The witch's eyes glow red with a fierce and predatory glow, the hunger burning stronger than ever.

“Don't tease me, stupid little slut…” Wanda says through gritted teeth, making you moan at the insult. “Get back to work and show me what a talented little pussy-sucker you can be…”

A feral growl rumbles in your chest, her teasing… leaving you with a wild desire to be good for her, to please her more than anything.

“Now, suck my clit like the eager little slut I know you are…”

You can only obey the witch’s request. Pushing your mouth even further against her pussy, it’s when you scrape your teeth against the woman’s clit that you hear her howl—pain and pleasure. A raw, guttural scream leaves Wanda’s throat as you tease her sensitive, swollen bud with just the right amount of pressure and force.

“Uuuunghhhh, God…!” She grinds her hips against your insistent mouth, seeking more of the sharp, exquisite sensation.

“Don’t stop, don’t you dare stop, fuck! I’m going to kill you!” Her fingers fist in your hair, tugging mercilessly as she rides your tongue with wild abandon.

The scarlet red all over the room, the incandescent, magical glow boiling on your skin. “You’re going to make me cum, naughty girl, just like that… Mommy’s little young slut is going to make her cum… Right there, yes!” The witch’s back arches off the chair, her entire being centered on the intense, violent pleasure radiating from her core.

You feel everything around you literally spin. Glancing out of the corner of your eye, you see the bed floating across the room, hitting the ceiling—it’s mind-boggling.

“OH FUCK, OH FUCK, FUCK, DO IT, PET!”

The words dissolve into raw, wild sounds as her climax overtakes her, waves of ecstasy crashing over her in a relentless torrent.

You feel the older woman’s legs tremble above you. Your ego soaring, you don’t even notice the woman’s still red eyes above you. As your orgasm subsides, Wanda notices your awestruck gaze, still transfixed by the spectral, crimson display of the displaced objects.

“Yeah, kind of like that…” She smiles teasingly, watching your lips wet with her pleasure.

Wanda pulls you by the back of your neck, clashing your lips in a fight that she would clearly win.

"Mommy isn't done with you yet, honey…" she murmurs like a solemn promise.

"Mommy…" You say softly, still mesmerized by her and still kneeling.

Something about how you say it makes Wanda savor the word. "Say it again." She commands, looking into your eyes.

"Mommy." You repeat, now more confident.

The older woman hums in approval and gets up from the chair, her legs still a little shaky from the recent orgasm.

She throws you on top of her king-size bed and walks over to you with superhuman eyes.

"Mommy is dying to take what is rightfully hers."

She climbs on top of you, taking off the blouse that covers you and making obscene movements on top of your jeans.

"Nobody touched here, did they, honey? You didn't let anyone touch that tight pussy, did you?"

You gasped and denied it vehemently. The words coming out of the woman's mouth were making you dumb.

"No… I'm a virgin."

You say and feel the woman's wicked smile on the curve of your neck.

"Of course you are. You're made for me… such a good girl waiting for me."

The woman's lips traveled the length of your neck, giving you goosebumps. Wanda's hands trembled with restraint as she stared at your soft skin, the delicate folds and tempting curves yet to be savored. With a deft movement, she undoes your shorts, dragging the jeans down your thighs while her gaze remains fixed on the flesh that awaits her.

"Mommy will use all your holes until you become a perfect, dumb whore for her," she said with her nails digging into your waist, leaving half-moon marks. "You're perfect…" in her eyes there was adoration for you and nothing else.

The words left Wanda’s mouth in a reverent whisper, almost as if they were a secret reserved only for you. Her eyes glowed, but not with the power you knew so well—not with that menacing red glow. No. Now, they were a deep, warm sea, filled with adoration.

The way she looked at you, even with you beneath her, made your heart race and your skin tingle. There was nothing but devotion in her gaze, as if you were the most precious thing she had ever touched.

Her fingers, strong and steady, slid over your body with care and possession, as if she were committing every curve of yours to memory. You let out a needy moan, unable to contain the wave of desire her words stirred within you. There was something intoxicating about being so vulnerable, so surrendered, and yet somehow feeling in control.

“Look at me,” Wanda murmured, her voice low but full of command. Your eyes didn’t waver for a second. You obeyed, lifting your gaze to meet hers. And there it was—the intensity was almost overwhelming, a kind of fervor that made her legs tremble. There was something so raw about that moment, as if she were seeing into the most hidden parts of his soul and yet choosing to love each and every one of them.

“You have no idea…” Wanda continued, her lips brushing his skin, her breath hot against his neck. “How you make me feel. Powerful. Invincible.”

Even in her submissive position, something in you blossomed under that gaze. Her power felt like an embrace, firm and unshakable, but never cruel. You were exposed, defenseless, but you had never felt so protected.

“You will learn to crave my touch, my presence, as deeply as I crave you. Your perfect, submissive little body belongs to me now. I will mold you, transform you into the most obedient, desperate slut imaginable… and you will beg for the chance to serve me.”

Wanda’s lips brushed the shell of your ear, her hot breath sending shivers down your spine. Each whispered word carried a weight that made your body tremble, not from fear, but from pure anticipation.

“You will be the best toy a witch like me has ever had…” Her voice was a mix of desire and threat, like poisoned honey that you couldn’t resist. “And I will never let you go.”

Her tone was possessive, each syllable carefully loaded with intent. Wanda’s hands slid down your ribs, her fingers pressing lightly against your skin as if she were marking her territory.

“I’m going to tease you until you beg for release,” she continued, her tongue lightly brushing your earlobe, making an involuntary moan escape your lips. “And even then… maybe I won’t give you what you want. Maybe I’ll just stay here…” She slid her lips to your neck, where she placed a hot, slow kiss. “Watching you writhe, completely at my mercy.”

Your breathing quickened, and you felt the muscles in your body tighten. Her heat was almost overwhelming, and the way she spoke—so confident, so in control—made your mind spin with a mix of anxiety and excitement.

“Then I’m going to tie you up, blindfold you,” she murmured, her teeth scraping lightly against your skin. “And leave you waiting. With no idea what I’m going to do next. Every second a delicious torture… until you learn there’s no escape.” That you are mine, completely.”

Your heart was pounding, your head spinning with the intensity of her words. Her hands slowly moved up his back, firm and possessive, as she planted another kiss on your shoulder. “You like that, don’t you?” Wanda asked, her voice a dark melody. “You like knowing that even when I’m cruel, it’s still for you. That everything I do is so you’ll never forget… who you belong to.”

You bit your lip, instinctively moistening it. Your head fell back slightly, your eyes half-closed as you tried to form words, but nothing coherent came out.

“Answer me, dekta,” Wanda ordered softly, her hand now cupping your chin so you looked her straight in the eye. “Or I might have to teach you what happens when little girls disobey their mommies.”

Wanda’s tone was seductive and cruel, the veiled threat in her voice as intoxicating as the firmness with which she held your face. You felt a deep shiver run down your spine, each word like an electric current that lit up every nerve in your body.

Your body trembled, not from fear, but from an anticipation so overwhelming that you could barely breathe. Your heart pounded, your mind flooded with a mixture of shame and desire. Her power over you was absolute, and in that moment, everything in you screamed for submission.

“Mommy…” you murmured, the word slipping out almost without thinking, your voice shaky and choked by the tension Wanda was creating around you.

Your eyes were glazed over, as if you were in a trance, completely at the mercy of that overwhelming presence.

Wanda smiled, an arrogant, cruel smile, but undeniably beautiful. She tilted her head, her eyes shining with something that seemed like pure satisfaction.

“Look at you,” she said softly, but the firmness in her voice made every muscle in your body tense in response. “You can’t even think, can you, my little whore?”

Your body trembled in anticipation, her every word like an invisible rope tightening around you. You knew Wanda was dangerous, but at that moment, the only thing you could think about was how much you wanted to find out how far she was willing to go.

The throbbing between your legs was mind-blowing, you needed to relieve yourself urgently. But before you could rub yourself against your own thighs, Wanda stopped you.

“You’re already so wet, you filthy girl. Can’t resist the thrill of pleasing Mommy, can you?” she purrs, her free hand sliding down to cup the juncture between your thighs, rubbing in firm, possessive circles. She places her knee against your pussy, causing a delicious, excruciating pressure. “I bet you can come like this. Rubbing yourself against my knee like a bitch in heat, can’t you?”

You respond with a long moan, your tongue lolling out, the intense pressure and tantalizing sensation of her knee against your hypersensitive folds making you whimper and buck in helpless need, your own hips instinctively moving to grind against the unyielding obstruction.

“That’s it, dirty slut… Let Mommy see how much you want to come. Rub yourself against my leg like the desperate little slut you are.”

“Want to come like this?” She asks, making you whimper. Thinking about anything was too difficult. Maybe you should let her take control of everything. "I asked you a question!"

You gasp when you feel the woman slap your left cheek. "Wanda, I want… more!" You manage to finish with difficulty.

"Who?" She asks, forcing her knee deeper into your entrance, making you cry out.

"Mommy!" You correct yourself, humming in approval.

"There's my good girl." She praises you, "What do you want, darling?" Wanda makes circular movements with her tongue on your nipples, hard as rocks. "My mouth. My fingers. My cock." Hearing her, you whimper.

"Oh. Fuck…" You gasp loudly.

"Greedy little girl… You want all of these, don't you?"

As if summoned by Wanda's wicked touch and piercing gaze, your fantasies take on a life of their own, your mind feverish with desire. You need it all—every hungry bite, every deep, devastating thrust, every stroke of a masterful hand across your skin.

The sheer intensity of your need consumes you, leaving nothing but desperation, longing, pleading in its wake. “Yes, Mommy,” you finally confess in a breathless whisper, “I need it all. I need you in every way imaginable.” With a low, triumphant growl, Wanda surges forward, her skilled fingers delving between those slick, panting thighs once more.

She teases and claws at you, building the pressure to a fever pitch even as her lips and tongue continue their relentless assault on your sensitive peaks.

“Such a greedy little sex toy,” the older woman murmurs against the quivering flesh, her voice a husky, wicked caress. “Ready to take it all like the perfect slut you were born to be.”

Upon reaching your pussy, Wanda sucks on your outer lips—extracting the sweet honey. The woman’s expert tongue swirls over your clit, making you gasp. You tense and writhe under Wanda’s relentless assault, the wicked witch’s tongue teasing, tasting, claiming every last drop of your offering.

Your soaked, throbbing folds pulse in rhythm with each skillful, searching stroke, the desperate need building to a fever pitch within your core.

“Oh, shit, oh shit, oh fuck—” Your voice cracks, a harsh, pleading moan that reflects the wild, aching desire coursing through your veins. You grind shamelessly against Wanda’s mouth, lost in the overwhelming tsunami of sensation, the relentless drive for release.

“Please, Wanda. I need you—I want you—” you choke in pleasure, feeling yourself teetering on the edge of the abyss of pleasure.

With a naughty giggle, Wanda replaces her mouth with her fingers, alternating between your clit and your hot entrance. “You’re so close already, aren’t you? All that stimulation Mommy gave you was too much, wasn’t it?” She said, as she rested her chin on top of your mons venus—watching you with burning eyes.

“…So close, please! I feel so good. So good to you, I—” The tears in the corners of your eyes indicate how strong an orgasm you will have.

With a sly smile, Wanda responds, her expert fingers curling and stroking that sensitive, throbbing bundle of nerves in deliberate, unyielding circles.

“Come for me, pet,” she purrs darkly against the quivering flesh, “Give me all that sweet, dripping honey. Show Mommy how well-trained a little sex toy like you can be…” The cruel, relentless pleasure builds and builds until your mind goes blank.

As your orgasm hits, you feel a sharp pain between your legs—and for some reason, the mixture of mild pain and intense pleasure increases the throbbing in your belly even more.

“Fuuuck me!!!” The raw, primal sound of ecstasy as your sensitive, tingling flesh shudders and contracts around the older woman’s hand. Your hips buck violently, lost in the tormenting ecstasy of surrender, of release.

In the stormy haze of your climax, a fleeting agony sparks through the velvety softness of your sex—a burning, stinging sensation that for just a moment eclipses the thunderous ecstasy. Yet in the next heartbeat, the exquisite wave of pleasure returns, even more intense, taking you even higher. You were going to come again, and Wanda knew it.

“Yeahhhhh… So tight, my stupid whore,” Wanda’s voice is a seductive growl, a dark promise in every word. "Like this. Take it all, let me have it all…" Her fingers move faster, hitting the spongy spot inside you.

"Are you going to cum again?" the wicked witch asked, thrusting harder. "Are you going to cum with Mommy's little finger in you? Are you going to make a mess of your Mommy's bed?"

"YESSSSS!!!! OH FUUUUUCKKKKKK Mommy, Mommy! "I'M GONNA-C--" Your screams are abruptly cut off as a new burst of intense, shuddering ecstasy rips through your very being.

In that fleeting instant of total surrender, your senses blur into a sea of sensations - the stinging, relentless pleasure, the dark, possessive hunger in Wanda's eyes, the intimate, slippery thrill of possession. Every nerve ending, every synapse is alight with the desire to be filled, to be used, to be claimed… to surrender completely to the relentless, insatiable desire that has ensnared you.

With your breathing quickened and your body trembling, you couldn't speak or move—all you could do was cry and let out all the emotion pent up in your chest.

Wanda noticed the tears rolling down your face before you did. At first, an expression of concern formed in her eyes, replaced by a deep affection that softened you completely. With surprising care, considering the intensity she had shown minutes before, she leaned over you, her fingers still black with power—shakingly wiping away the salty drops that ran down your cheeks.

"Hey, dekta…" her voice was low, sweet, almost a melody. "Are you okay? Talk to me."

You tried to open your mouth, but no sound came out. Still, Wanda seemed to understand. She lay down next to you, wrapping you in her arms with a warmth that was not only physical, but almost magical. Her fingers traced soft patterns on your skin as she whispered words of comfort.

"Shh… it's okay. I'm here. It was all too much for you, wasn't it, pretty girl?"

She ran her hand through your hair, her eyes fixed on you with a kind of reverence that seemed almost sacred. There was no rush, just a constant care and tenderness that seemed to embrace all the broken pieces you didn't even know you carried.

“You’re so precious to me,” Wanda murmured, more to herself than to you. “I would face armies for you. Ask for anything, and I’ll give it to you, my little one.” The witch kissed the top of your head, feeling her own heart swell with something she couldn’t quite name.

Your chest tightened at her words, and a soft sob escaped your lips as a sense of safety unlike anything you’d ever known washed over you. She leaned down to press a slow, deliberate kiss to your forehead, as though wanting to carve the moment into her memory.

“You don’t need to understand it now, but what I feel for you… it’s greater than anything I’ve ever known.” Her eyes gleamed with something that danced between love and possessiveness, though it didn’t make her any less careful or tender.

She pulled the blanket over both of you, wrapping you tighter against her. “Cry as much as you need, my girl. I’m here. I will always be here.”

That moment was more than comfort; it was a vow. A silent promise that Wanda seemed determined to keep, no matter the cost.

Wanda Maximoff, the Scarlet Witch, was pure, raw power—a storm incarnate, capable of reshaping the very fabric of reality with a simple gesture. In battle, she was wild, relentless, a hurricane of might no one dared to defy. But with you… it was different.

You were the key to a side of her she never believed could exist—a side that longed for more than destruction and control. A side that wanted to feel and be felt, to be seen and understood. You were the doorway to her own humanity, a part of herself she’d almost forgotten was there.

There was something about you that dismantled all her carefully constructed defenses, disarming her in a way no external force ever could. And it infuriated her. It terrified her. But it also made her crave you with a primal, almost desperate intensity.

She was hard, unyielding—always would be. But with you, she’d discovered what it meant to be vulnerable. Your touch, your gaze, your unwavering trust in her were like a key turning in the rusted gears of a hardened heart.

As she held your face between her hands, still trembling from the ecstasy only she could give you, Wanda realized that no matter how brutal or wild she was, you were the only being in the universe capable of turning her into something more than chaos and destruction.

And that made her want to protect you more than anything else. To shield you from pain, from the world, even from herself—but never to let you go. Because, in the end, you weren’t just the key to who Wanda could be.

You were her destiny, as certain as the power burning through her veins. And she would never let another life, another universe, tear you apart again.

Even with your eyes closed, you felt Wanda’s every word like the notes of an ancient melody, echoing inside you. Her moans, rough and filled with intensity—still playing in a loop in your mind—were more than sounds; they were verses of a visceral poem that seemed to envelop and consume you slowly.

Every sigh carried a secret. Every whisper felt like a hidden promise. And every sound that escaped her lips was a spell, binding you deeper into an abyss where pleasure and devotion intertwined.

It was as if Wanda was composing something eternal—a song only the two of you could hear and understand. And you? You were the sheet music, the instrument, the meaning behind every line and verse.

In that instant, lost between her words and the overwhelming intensity of the moment, you realized you had surrendered more than just your body.

Your soul, with all its scars and longings, had been written by Wanda. And her words—sweet, fierce, and insatiable—would be etched into you as the most beautiful, cruel poetry you’d ever know.

~*~

and yes, it was too much for you.

Tag list <3

@vyvvycg @rosekjsses @3liyuh @trindad2k

@indentity0018 @beggingonmykneesforher

@idkwhatever580

@reginassecretlover @trying-to-do-good

@imjustvibingsworld @mbxoxo @jazzyxqzl @eternallyconfuzed @ctrlaltedits @sheriffhaughtearp

@lesbiansweet @i-luv-w1men @htinha157 @syssmin @wandasslut3000 @fuzzygiantlamphorse @imaginaryblogger01

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bestalbertcamuslover · 2 days ago

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Question...?

This is part one, here's part two, part three, and part four

✯ pairing: Jenson Button x pop star!Reader ✯

✯ content warnings: none✯

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶

They met in a very convoluted way, at a Grand Prix she had been invited to. His reputation was to uphold, a playboy, a player, and she could not blame him, not with that unreal face, that dreamy aura he had. She felt almost lucky to talk to him, his sweet words, suave smiles, made her feel so important somehow.

The champagne buzzed in her veins, the music thrummed against her chest, and then Jenson was there, his arm brushing hers, his lips close enough that her breath caught. She did not expect it to happen—she was not supposed to care—but when his hand cupped her face, and he kissed her, the world faded to nothing but him and his soft lips.

The moment shattered when laughter erupted around them. His friends—they were watching, clapping, teasing, making it all feel like a game. For a moment, she flushed with embarrassment. Then, as if on cue, everyone cheered. They were clapping for them.

But Jenson pulled back too quickly, his smile, that almost resembled a smirk, more of a mask than anything else. She told herself it didn’t mean anything, but the look in his eyes lingered.

They saw each other after that, but only in stolen moments, their busy lifestyles not allowing much more. She didn’t know what they were, and Jenson was not one to define anything. He would call when he was in town, and she would pretend she was not waiting, as if he had not been the fuel to her fire, the muse of her works. Sometimes, he was sweet—bringing her flowers, laughing at her terrible jokes—but other times, he felt distant, like a dream she was trying too hard to hold onto.

The next time they met, it was at her apartment. He had come over late, his face tired but still so beautiful it made her chest ache.

When it was over, he held her. It was in instants like that she felt his, she felt the luckiest person, almost as if the self-doubt she had been carrying for years was now a mere feather, and much more important than when fans cheered for her.

But that sweet dream, that idyllic feeling only lasted a few hours, as he left, he just left in the middle of the night. Something she only discovered the very next morning while the early sun rays cast through the big windows. She could not blame him, they were nothing really, and she knew exactly who he was.

One night, at a party in London, she spotted him across the room. He was surrounded by his usual crowd, his golden smile lighting up the space. She wanted to go to him, but why?. And then a man she barely knew, some DJ, sidled up to her. Very popular, very famous, and a very big ego—a dickhead, her friends would later call him—but he was there, and Jenson was not, and more important, he seemed interested in her, Jenson did not.

She let the guy flirt with her, let him buy her a drink, let him place a hand on her waist. All the while, she felt Jenson’s eyes on her, burning across the room. For a fleeting second, she thought, she wished, he might come over, pull her aside, say something—anything—to show her he cared.

But he did not. He just turned away, his expression unreadable.

That night, she went home, not alone yet lonely.

For so long, she just wanted to call him, to demand answers, to ask why he could not just tell her what he wanted. But she didn’t, maybe because she was embarrassed, maybe because she knew the answer would hurt her. Instead, she would find herself, more often than she would like to admit, stare at the ceiling, replaying every glance gosh, his blue eyes, every word, gosh, that English accent, every kiss, gosh, his soft, almost soothing, lips I wished I could call mine.

It was always like this: him holding her at arm’s length, just close enough to keep her hoping, and she did, she always hoped. He was the only one who was able to have her hoping, to make her feel so much, almost as he was a color she had never seen before.

Weeks turned into months. She threw herself into her work, her music, other meaningless relationships, anything to distract from the way he lingered in her mind. But sporadically, she’d catch his name in a headline or hear his voice in an interview, and the ache would come rushing back like her blood would do when he was around.

She wondered if he ever thought about her, she craved it. If he ever regretted not fighting for her. If he wished he’d stayed, not only that damn night, but forever.

One night, at another party, she saw him again. He was with someone new. She tried not to stare, tried not to care, not to instantly curse and hate that innocent woman, but when their eyes met across the room, her heart clenched.

She turned away, pretending to laugh at something her friends said, but all she could think about was him.

Later, alone in her hotel room, she couldn’t stop herself from asking the questions that haunted her.

Did he wish he’d put up more of a fight? Did he miss her the way she missed him? Did he ever think about that kiss in the crowded room, when for just a moment, it felt like the world was theirs? It felt like the world, him, was mine.

It was just a question.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶

✯ authors note: I will do part two ASAP. English is not my first language. I hope you liked it <333

#f1 x reader #f1 smut #f1 x you #f1 imagine #jenson button x reader #jenson button x you #jenson button imagine #f1 dilfs #formula 1 imagine #jenson button #jb22 #jb22 x reader #Spotify

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clarii · 3 hours ago

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Off Limits

Summary: Before Eddie Munson even officially met Dustin’s sister, Dustin warned him to stay far away from her, knowing she was exactly Eddie’s type. But when fate pairs them together as chemistry partners, Eddie can’t help but fall for her — and she starts falling too. One night, when she finally confesses her feelings, Eddie rejects her, torn between his growing feelings and his loyalty to Dustin.

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Reader, Dustin & Eddie friendship, Dustin & Reader sibling relationship

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, rejection, hurt/comfort, protective sibling, pining, happy ending

“Hey, listen—”

Dustin caught Eddie just as he was packing up after Hellfire one night, voice unusually serious.

Eddie raised a brow. “You okay, Henderson? You look like you’re about to give me some sort of intervention.”

Dustin sighed, crossing his arms. “Look, I just… need you to promise me something.”

Eddie smirked. “Sure. Anything. Except giving up metal, or D&D, or my throne as your fearless leader.”

Dustin glared. “I’m serious, dude.” He took a breath. “It’s about my sister.”

That made Eddie straighten slightly, his smirk faltering.

“Yeah?”

“She’s off-limits.”

Eddie blinked. “What?”

Dustin’s face hardened. “I know your type, Munson. She is your type. And I don’t want you messing with her. Like… ever. Got it?”

Eddie scoffed, holding his hands up defensively. “Dude, I haven’t even met her. Chill. I’m not gonna—”

“I mean it.”

There was a rare protective edge to Dustin’s voice that made Eddie nod slowly, the teasing smile dropping.

“Yeah… okay, man. I get it. No funny business. Scouts honor.”

And he meant it.

But then came chemistry class.

It was almost comical how quickly the universe turned on him.

When Mrs. O’Donnell paired him with you for the semester-long chemistry project, Eddie had nearly choked on his gum when you introduced yourself with that soft, shy smile.

“Oh. You’re Henderson’s sister?”

You laughed. “Yeah. Unfortunately.”

And then he was screwed.

You were gorgeous — but that wasn’t the problem. The problem was how easy it was to talk to you. How you rolled your eyes at his bad jokes but laughed anyway. How you didn’t flinch when he rambled about D&D while sketching dragons on his notebook instead of paying attention.

And the flirting? Yeah. That just… happened.

Small touches when passing beakers. Sitting a little too close during study sessions. Him calling you sweetheart and you calling him out for it, but never actually minding.

It was perfect.

Until it wasn’t.

————-

The tipping point was a quiet Wednesday night.

Eddie was sitting cross-legged on your bedroom floor, guitar pick between his teeth as he scribbled down notes for the chemistry report.

You, meanwhile, weren’t even pretending to focus.

You were too busy watching him — the way his curls fell over his face, the way he bit his lip when he concentrated.

It had been building for weeks.

The crush. The stolen glances. The feeling that maybe… just maybe… he felt it too.

And you couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“Eddie?”

He looked up, oblivious as ever, still chewing on his pick. “Yeah?”

You exhaled.

“I… I like you. Like, really like you. And I was wondering if… you’d ever consider, maybe, I don’t know… dating me?”

Silence.

Eddie froze, the pick dropping from his lips.

For a moment, he just stared, like he hadn’t heard you right.

Then —

“Wait, what?”

You flushed. “You heard me, Munson. Do you… feel the same? Or… did I totally misread this?”

His mouth opened. Then shut.

Because, God, he did feel the same. He felt everything.

But he also heard Dustin’s voice in his head, loud and clear.

“She’s off-limits.”

Eddie’s heart shattered.

He forced a strained laugh, running a hand through his curls.

“Y/N… you’re great. You really are. But… I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Your face fell.

“Oh.”

The smile dropped from your lips, embarrassment crashing over you like a tidal wave.

You had been so sure.

“I… I thought—”

Eddie cut you off, voice almost desperate.

“No, it’s not you. I swear. You’re amazing. I just—”

You nodded stiffly, swallowing hard.

“It’s fine. We can just… finish the project another day. I’m not feeling well.”

“Wait, sweetheart—”

But you were already closing the door behind him.

And he felt like the biggest idiot on the planet.

—————

The next day was brutal.

You didn’t speak to him. Didn’t even look at him in chemistry class.

No stolen glances. No quiet jokes.

Just silence.

And it killed him.

—————-

At lunch, Dustin was the first to say something.

“You good, man? You look like you’ve been hit by a bus.”

Eddie blinked up from where he’d been pushing his food around his tray.

“Yeah… I’m fine.”

Dustin snorted. “You’re so not fine.”

A pause. Then Dustin frowned, glancing between Eddie and where you sat, equally miserable, across the cafeteria.

“Okay, what happened? You and my sister look like someone just kicked your puppies.”

Eddie hesitated.

Then he sighed, dropping his head into his hands.

“I messed up, man. She… she told me she liked me. And I said no.”

Dustin blinked. “Wait, what? But… you like her too. It’s so obvious—”

Eddie groaned. “I know! But you told me she was off-limits, dude! You literally made me promise!”

Dustin paled.

“Oh. Oh, crap.”

“Yeah. Crap.” Eddie stared at the table, voice quieter. “She’s the only girl I’ve ever felt like this about. And I just crushed her because I didn’t wanna lose you as a friend.”

Silence.

Dustin opened his mouth. Then closed it.

Then—

“Dude. I was being an idiot. I thought you’d mess around and break her heart or something, but… you care about her. And she clearly cares about you too.”

Eddie blinked. “You’re not mad?”

Dustin shook his head. “I’m mad you didn’t talk to me sooner. Go fix it, Munson.”

——-

That night, Eddie showed up on your doorstep.

You opened it, blinking in surprise.

“Eddie? What are you—”

He cut you off, words tumbling out.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t say no because I don’t care. I said no because I do care. And because I was scared. Your brother told me to stay away before we even met, and I didn’t wanna lose him as a friend. But pushing you away hurt worse. I like you, Y/N. So much.”

You stared, heart pounding.

“Then why didn’t you just tell me?”

Eddie winced. “I’m an idiot?”

You gave a watery laugh.

And when he hesitantly reached for your hand — fingers brushing, warm and gentle — you didn’t pull away.

“I’m still mad at you.”

“I deserve that.”

“But… I like you too.”

His whole face lit up.

And when he kissed you, slow and soft, everything finally felt right.

The End.

#stranger things #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #stranger things x reader #stranger things x y/n #eddie munson #dustin henderson #henderson!reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x henderson!reader

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kathlare · 1 day ago

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don’t wanna break up again

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Amelie wrestles with the weight of her emotions during a vulnerable therapy session, reflecting on the strains of her relationship with Rodrigo and the echoes of heartbreaks past.

Wordcount: 1.4 k

Warnings: none

full masterlist // request over here!

May 12th, 2023 - New York City, NY

The clock on the wall ticked steadily, a quiet reminder of time passing as Amelie sat in the plush chair of her therapist’s office. Her legs were curled up beneath her, her oversized sweater draped loosely over her frame. She toyed with the edge of the sleeve, her mind wandering as she tried to gather her thoughts.

—You’ve been quiet today, Amelie,— Dr. Wilson said gently, her soft accent grounding the room. —What’s on your mind?

Amelie glanced up at her, the older woman’s steady gaze both comforting and disarming.

—I don’t know where to start,— Amelie admitted, her voice low. —Everything feels... heavy lately. The tour, my voice, Rodrigo... it’s like I’m juggling too much, and I’m dropping everything.—

Dr. Wilson nodded, her pen resting idly on the notepad in her lap.

—Let’s focus on one thing at a time. You mentioned Rodrigo. How are things between you two?—

Amelie let out a humorless laugh, leaning back into the chair and rubbing her temples.

—They’re... fine, I guess? No, not fine. That’s not true. It’s... complicated,— she said, her words tumbling out in a rush.

—Complicated how?— Dr. Wilson prompted.

Amelie sighed, her hands dropping into her lap.

—We barely talk anymore. When we do, it’s surface-level stuff. I’m always on the road, and he’s busy with his own things. Half the time, I feel like I’m trying to force something that isn’t even there anymore.—

She paused, her throat tightening as the words she’d been avoiding finally escaped.

—I love him, I do. But it’s like we’re living in two completely different worlds now. And I don’t know if we can keep pretending like that’s not true.—

Dr. Wilson watched her carefully, giving her a moment to sit with her emotions before speaking.

—Do you feel like he’s still a priority in your life? Or are you trying to hold onto something out of habit, or fear of letting go?—

Amelie stared at the ceiling, blinking away tears that threatened to fall.

—I don’t know. Maybe both? I mean, he was there for me when I was filming Wicked. He was my constant when everything else was chaos. And I love him for that. But now...— She trailed off, biting her lip.

Dr. Wilson leaned forward slightly.

—Now what, Amelie?— she asked gently.

Amelie’s chest felt tight, her hands fidgeting in her lap as her emotions began to spill over.

—Now it just feels like I’m holding onto a memory of what we were instead of what we are. And I don’t want to admit it because... because I don’t want to go through it all again,— she said, her voice breaking on the last word.

Dr. Wilson nodded, her expression calm and understanding.

—You don’t want to go through what, exactly?—

—I don’t want to break up again. I don’t want to feel that... that emptiness. That loneliness. I don’t want to start over. It hurts too much,— she whispered, wiping at her face with her sleeve.

Her therapist handed her a tissue, giving her a moment to compose herself before continuing.

Amelie took the tissue and pressed it against her face, her tears falling freely now. She didn’t try to stop them.

—It’s just... when Lando and I split...— Her voice caught, and she closed her eyes, willing herself to get the words out. —It was so fucking hard. I didn’t think I’d ever feel okay again. And even now, sometimes it still feels like I’m carrying pieces of that with me.—

Dr. Wilson gave her a moment before gently prompting, —What was the hardest part for you, Amelie?—

Amelie let out a shaky breath, her hands trembling as she clutched the tissue.

—All of it. Losing him as my best friend, not having him there to talk to about stupid things or big things. The way it ended... how he just gave up on us because I was ��too busy.’ Like I didn’t matter enough to him to try. It made me feel like I wasn’t worth the effort. Like I was disposable.—

Her voice cracked on the last word, and she shook her head, her tears flowing harder now.

Dr. Wilson leaned forward slightly, her tone soft but steady.

—That’s a lot to carry, Amelie. And it’s understandable that you’re afraid of going through something like that again. But let me ask you this: when you look back on your relationship with Lando, do you still feel like it was your fault?—

Amelie shook her head immediately, though the tears didn’t stop.

—No. I know it wasn’t my fault. I’ve done the work, I’ve talked it through. I was busy because I was building something for myself. I had dreams, and he couldn’t handle not being the center of my attention all the time. I know that now. But back then... God, back then it felt like I was broken. Like I wasn’t enough.—

Her voice dropped to a whisper, the vulnerability in her words cutting through the room like a knife.

—He didn’t even try, Dr. Wilson. He just... gave up. And I think that’s what hurt the most. Because I never would have given up on him.—

Dr. Wilson’s expression remained calm, but her eyes held a deep empathy.

—And now, with Rodrigo, do you feel like you’re the one holding on while he’s letting go?—

Amelie’s chest tightened, and she looked down at her lap, the truth of the question hitting her like a punch to the gut.

—Maybe,— she admitted, her voice barely audible. —But it’s different. Rodrigo isn’t giving up; he’s just... not there. It’s not intentional. It’s just life. We’re both so busy, and I don’t know if that’s something we can fix. I don’t even know if he wants to fix it.—

Her tears started falling again, and she clutched the tissue in her hand as though it were the only thing keeping her together.

—I don’t want to feel like this again. I don’t want to break up again, start over, feel like I’m losing a part of myself. I’ve been through it too many times, and I’m so fucking tired of it,— she said, her voice cracking.

Dr. Wilson let the silence settle for a moment, giving Amelie the space to feel what she needed to feel. Then she spoke, her voice gentle but firm.

—Amelie, it’s okay to feel tired. It’s okay to grieve what’s slipping away, even if it hasn’t fully ended yet. But what’s more important is understanding what you deserve. You’ve worked so hard to rebuild yourself after everything you’ve been through; Cameron, Lando, even Shawn before that. You deserve a relationship that supports you, not one that makes you question your worth or your place in someone’s life.—

Amelie nodded slowly, her tears still falling but her breathing beginning to steady.

—I know you’re right. I just... I don’t know if I’m strong enough to let go. Not again. Not now,— she admitted, her voice raw.

Dr. Wilson gave her a small, encouraging smile.

—You’re stronger than you think, Amelie. You’ve proven that time and time again. And letting go doesn’t mean failing. It means choosing yourself, your happiness, your peace.—

Amelie wiped her face, her hands trembling slightly.

—It’s just...— she started, her voice faltering. —When Cam died, I didn’t think I’d ever feel whole again. And then Lando came along, and it was like... like Cam had sent him to me. He was light and laughter when everything felt so dark. And when that ended, it was like losing Cam all over again.—

She pressed her hands to her face, her sobs breaking through.

—I thought Rodrigo would be different. I thought I could finally have something steady, something that didn’t hurt. But maybe I’m just not meant for that.—

Dr. Wilson’s voice was steady and kind, her words cutting through Amelie’s spiraling thoughts.

—You’re meant for love, Amelie. But love doesn’t have to come at the cost of your own peace. Sometimes, the bravest thing you can do is let go of what’s no longer serving you, even if it hurts. It doesn’t mean you’re giving up. It means you’re making space for something better.—

Amelie nodded, though her tears didn’t stop. The weight in her chest felt as heavy as ever, but Dr. Wilson’s words planted a tiny seed of clarity in her heart.

—Do you think... if I let Rodrigo go, I’ll be okay?— she asked, her voice trembling.

Dr. Wilson’s expression softened, her gaze unwavering.

—I know you will be. Because you’ve been through so much, and you’re still here. You’re still standing. And no matter what happens, you’ll keep moving forward.—

Amelie let out a shaky breath, her tears slowing as she processed the words. She wasn’t ready to make a decision—not yet—but for the first time in a long time, she felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, she could survive this too.

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vqmprxz · 14 hours ago

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jeff the killer moodboard + hcs

jeff’s playlist

(faceclaim: rory culkin)

basics (in my au)

🔪age: 23

🔪nationality: canadian-american

🔪height: 5’11

interests, habits, etc.

🔪absolute asshole. it’s a mystery how anyone deals with him.

🔪pays literally anyone to go out and grab a beer for him because he’s too lazy to

🔪most brutal killer out of them all. i don’t think we’re really surprised, he’s batshit crazy so..

🔪after his charred hair grew out and the brown roots came in, he hated how it looked and dyed it black. he’s been dyeing it ever since

🔪really obnoxious metalhead. if you tell him what you listen to, he will 100% make fun of your music and say it’s “not heavy enough” meanwhile he listens to mayhem

🔪plays guitar and bass. (always INSANELY loud in his room, everyone yells at him to turn it down.)

🔪he has depression and sometimes goes a week or so without showering before liu makes him get up and clean himself

🔪insanely strong. he may have poor judgement but liu convinced him into getting his anger out in the gym instead of taking it out on other people, and it worked surprisingly well

relationships with others

🔪the only person who really tolerates him, unsurprisingly, is liu. jeff will never admit it but he loves his big brother and is grateful for all that he’s done for him

🔪thinks nina is annoying as fuck and will go right back up to his crusty lil room if he sees her

🔪toby is unfortunately jeff’s VICTIM. this kid cannot catch a break from the teasing, pushing, shoving, etc.

🔪ben looks up to him for some reason. (i think it’s only because jeff willingly plays video games with him). they have a brotherly relationship.

🔪makes fun of literally everybody, so nobody really likes him.

a relationship with him

sfw

🔪why would you put yourself through that

🔪he can be extremely manipulative so just beware.

🔪dates usually consist of late night car rides with metal music blasting in the background (and some deep talks, if you’re lucky)

🔪not big on physical touch, unless he sees someone else looking at you in a way he doesn’t like. then he’s ALL over you

🔪unfortunately the type of guy to not want to tell anyone you’re together

🔪despite all the arguments you get in, you can’t get rid of him. he’s not leaving you and he’ll always come back to you.

🔪on very rare occasions, there’s nights he’s apologizing, laying on your chest and crying softly while holding you tight, telling you how much he loves you

nsfw

🔪knifeplay. nobody’s shocked about that. loves watching you writhe and moan under him as the handle of his knife rams into your g spot

🔪his favorite position is doggy. loves pounding into you and being able to slap your ass and pull your hair so easily

🔪far from submissive. will not let you take control EVER.

🔪since he’s a guitarist, hes fast with his fingers (literally has you seeing stars and gripping the sheets)

🔪can read you like a book. you’re turned on? he can already tell by the way you’re squirming and breathing a little heavier

🔪before you guys got together, he’d definitely show up at your door in the middle of the night giving you those eyes, wanting a quickie

#creepypasta #jeff the killer #jeffrey woods #creepypasta proxy #marble hornets #proxy #slender proxy #slenderman #slenderverse #ticci toby #nina the killer #2010s

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divinityshackled · 20 hours ago

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As they made their way through the forest Xie Lian only half-heartedly listened to the excited ramblings of the child, he was not required to pay attention anyways as the words and stories were meant for the ears of the guardian, not his. No, instead he was thinking about the things he had learned and experienced the last days, but especially the encounter from last night was on his mind. What was it that had attacked them, or rather, toyed with them? The talisman on the door had stopped and startled it, forcing it to flee, but a part of him was certain that it was stronger than it led them to believe. Xie Lian was not quite sure what kind of creature they were dealing with, but they had to figure things out fast: the forest was already in critical condition and he noticed the way the guardian’s steps wavered from time to time despite her otherwise flawless and elegant appearance.

Still in thought he stepped over the threshold that divided the village from the forest and only after a few strides did he realise that the guardian did not follow. He turned around, slight confusion on his face, but Jing Xiu happily waved the guardian goodbye, so it didn’t seem like anything new to her. Xie Lian wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do now. They had returned the child to the safety of the village, but was he supposed to deliver her to the doorstep of her home or was this enough? And what about Xiao Hua? He had finally found the wayward guardian, but he feared she might disappear the moment he looked away for more than a moment. With a sigh he stepped towards the guardian, looking at her with his warm honey-coloured eyes.

“There are a few things I need to take care of but I understand you are reluctant to leave your forest. Please.. wait for me. I won’t be long.”

Xie Lian offered a reassuring smile, but there was also determination in his eyes. They could defeat this thing together, he firmly believed it, if only Xiao Hua would have it in her heart to trust him.

The cultivator did not want to leave her, but stalling wouldn’t do them any good, so eventually he turned away with a heavy heart, returning to the young child’s side as he had decided to accompany her until he was sure the little troublemaker would not slip away into the forest again. Once Jing Xiu was back at her parents’ home Xie Lian waved her goodbye before walking on, fishing the last remaining coin out of his sleeve and exchanging it for a small bag full of apples. That was it. The laughingstock of the three realms had officially run out of money again. He sighed. Well, it was nothing a little scrap collecting couldn’t fix.

As he strolled through the village he stopped beneath a familiar tree, holding two fingers to his temple as he tried to gain access to the heavenly communication array.

“Mother Nature? Ying Yue, there are a few things I need to ask you about this forest I am supposed to investigate. Hello?”

Complete silence. This wasn’t unexpected, but still frustrating, and for a moment Xie Lian thought maybe Ying Yue was simply too busy to reply at the moment, so he decided to try and ask someone else, but not without clearing his throat and slightly turning away from the people passing by. The last thing he needed was the villagers thinking of him as a lunatic that was talking to himself.

“Ling Wen, are you there?”

But of course Ling Wen wouldn’t reply either. Xie Lian had long run out of spiritual energy. He casually pushed his hair out of his face before he walked on, trying to not look any more suspicious as he hugged the bag of apples to his chest as he returned to the place he had last seen the guardian, but Xiao Hua was gone.

Could he really be so unlucky?

Xie Lian walked a few steps into the forest, bracing himself for the fact that he had indeed been abandoned, but after Xiao Hua had demonstrated her powers this morning he had a slight idea where to look and actually found the guardian sitting on the thick branch of another tall tree. He smiled before he easily jumped up to join her on the branch, sitting down next to her before passing the bag of apples to her.

“Here. Breakfast. I didn’t see you eat anything this morning. Also.. I have a rather embarrassing request. Could you lend me some spiritual energy?”

The child held gently to the fabric of Xiao Hua’s dress, her small fingers curling as though she dared not let go. She and Daoist-gege shared the same quiet worry-- the fleeting presence of the Guardian who walked among them. A subtle shift crossed Xiao Hua’s face at his explanation, though she offered no clearer answer. They were not friends, not even acquaintances. For one, the cultivator seemed to know of her, she knew nothing of him. The most she gleaned thus far was the child’s term of endearment for him: Daoist-gege... a strange name to say the least.

'It is important to gift someone the candies they like, not the ones they don’t like.' Yet it was not candy that had caught her attention. Her gaze fell to a fold in her robe, where she’d tucked the smooth, pearl-like marble, safely kept against her.

If his words had stirred her into moving quickly, she showed nothing of it. Small moments like these seemed to grow fewer and fewer, each one leaving her with a gnawing notion that it might be the last. So why rush through them? Turning to the tree stump, she picked up a small stone, examining it absently before sliding it into her sleeve. The dumplings, however, she cradled carefully in one hand as she turned back to join them.

Jing Xiu had long since grown accustomed to the Guardian’s quiet, and she accepted Daoist-gege’s words without protest. If they were friends, then so be it, she had no reason to doubt or worry as both of them had only shown her a trustworthy kindness thus far. Clearly, the cultivator was ready to return to the village, Xiao Hua was willing to follow.

She walked alongside them, with Jing Xiu keeping close, her small hand curling around Xiao Hua’s index and middle fingers as she began chattering away about her week's adventures.

Yet, unbeknownst to them, a gaze lingered in the shadows behind them, hidden among the trees, masked by the whispering rustle of leaves. Watching intently. ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴᴇ ɪɴ ᴡʜɪᴛᴇ? ɴᴏ… ɴᴏ. ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴀʀᴇꜱᴛ ᴏɴᴇ? ɴᴏᴛ Qᴜɪᴛᴇ ʏᴇᴛ.. ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʜɪʟᴅ… ʏᴇꜱ… ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʜɪʟᴅ, ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʜɪʟᴅ, ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʜɪʟᴅ…

Half an incense later, they reached the edge of the forest. Jing Xiu's stories had drifted into recounting even the smallest events, determined to share everything with her fairy companion. Xiao Hua listened quietly, offering no input, letting the child’s words fill the space between them. As they neared the tree line, the village came into view, but the Guardian made no move to venture further. Her cloven hooves halted where the last roots of the trees surrendered to the open clearing.

The cultivator and Jing Xiu took a few steps beyond, yet Jing Xiu abruptly stopped, noticing the hand she’d held had slipped away. She glanced back, catching sight of Xiao Hua standing at the forest’s edge, watching her.

"Thank you for walking me home, jiejie," the child said, her smile unwavering, showing no disappointment in her friend’s choice to end the journey here. She then turned, continuing alone, pausing to see if Xie Lian would follow.

#rcseadorned #do guardians have spiritual energy? this man sure as hell doesn't know #why can't I write a short thing for once

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nancy-drewdles · 2 years ago

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i just think that the real tragedy was ace missing the birth of his spider stepchild

#just think #he moves to grab her hand and stops #because he isn’t allowed to touch her #so he talks her through it and holds her with his eyes instead #ace x nancy #nancy drew spoilers #nancy drew cw

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aerialmirrorss · 24 days ago

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𝐧 𝐨 𝐛 𝐨 𝐝 𝐲 𝐠 𝐞 𝐭 𝐬 𝐦 𝐞 ⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆ rafe cameron

playing: 𝐧𝐨𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐦𝐞 by sza 𝜗𝜚˚｡˚ ⋆

synopsis! a kickback on the beach involving both kooks and pogues turns ugly after rafe sees jj maybank talking sweetly in your ear..

paring: rafe cameron x pogue!reader

warnings: friends? with benefits , angst , mentions of underage drinking , violence (fist fighting) , toxic!rafe , sexual content + rough unprotected car sex! , choking , fingering , mature , 18+ (minors dni!)

word count: 6.7k

notes: thinking about making this into a series but it just depends on how we all like it so lmk!

chapter two: 𝐰 𝐢 𝐥 𝐝 𝐟 𝐥 𝐨 𝐰 𝐞 𝐫 ⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆

chapter three: 𝐜 𝐚 𝐬 𝐮 𝐚 𝐥 ⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆

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

“you’re a fucking idiot,” kie says through a burst of laughter, watching jj attempt to shotgun two beers at once. instead of drinking, most of the beer spills straight onto the sand, leaving him grinning like it was all part of the plan.

a soft giggle slips past your lips as jj smashes the crushed cans together dramatically, then thumps his chest like he just pulled off something incredible—even though he couldn’t have failed more miserably.

you shake your head, pointing at the two crushed cans lying in the sand. “don’t give him any more if he’s gonna pull shit like that!” you say, half-serious, half-amused.

jj’s grin fades into a mock frown, his brows furrowing as he throws his hands up dramatically. “what? i was just getting started!” he protests, though the beer-soaked sand beneath him says otherwise.

you roll your eyes, ready to fire back at jj, when the vibration of your phone in your hand distracts you. the name on the screen makes your stomach flip, and you bite down on your bottom lip, fighting to keep a smile from slipping out where your friends could see.

kook devil: wya?

you: beach kickback on the cut

kook devil: omw

this time, the smile wins. you glance down at the screen, the corners of your lips tugging upward despite yourself. it wasn’t the first time rafe cameron had texted you late at night, asking where you were. but no one else knew that. and you weren’t about to admit it to anyone—especially not to your friends.

friends who hated kooks with a passion. and everything, and everyone, that came with them.

“what are you smiling at?” sarah asks, her voice light but laced with curiosity, as she and john b stroll over, his arm draped casually over her shoulders. her amused grin only makes you more nervous.

you lock your phone instantly, still smiling but scrambling for an excuse. “my package just got delivered,” you say quickly, trying to sound nonchalant.

sarah hums in response, the suspicion in her tone subtle but enough to make your stomach tighten. you don’t notice, too busy avoiding eye contact and silently thanking the chaos that erupts when jj and pope start arguing about something ridiculous, as usual.

you knew what you were doing was wrong. so wrong, especially to sarah. if she ever found out you and rafe were hooking up behind everyone’s backs, she’d lose it. they all would. and not just because he’s a kook.

it’s because he’s rafe fucking cameron.

it was kind of a blur how it all started with rafe. you remember being at a party—not sure if it was here on the beach or in figure 8—but of course, he was there, lingering in the crowd. all night, his eyes kept finding yours, holding your gaze just a little too long.

a couple of tequila shots later, you found yourself in his truck, attempting to ride him as he fucked you senseless, leaving you a trembling mess of moans and breathless curses.

ever since that night, you’d fallen into a rhythm—friends with benefits, if you could even call it that. except you weren’t friends. not even close.

you and rafe both knew the deal—just sex, no strings attached. it was made clear the second time you hooked up. after somehow getting your number, rafe texted you at 1 a.m. asking to meet. if it had been anyone else, you would’ve said no without a second thought. but rafe cameron always gets what he wants.

afterward, it was rafe who spelled it out: just sex, nothing more. and you agreed, even though the words stung more than you cared to admit. you told yourself you were fine with it, hoping that maybe, just maybe, if you played along long enough, he’d change his mind.

except he hasn’t.

and what really reeled you in was just the other day, you spotted him on the golf course with stacy thornton, topper’s cousin of all people. and of course he knew you’d see him—you work the country club as a bev girl. how could you not?

still, you swallowed the lump in your throat, pretending not to care even as your chest tightened. you quietly asked a coworker to handle his table, murmuring something about being swamped, and then buried yourself in busywork to avoid the sting of watching him laugh with her.

since that day, he hasn’t called or texted. not a word. until tonight.

because surely, stacy was busy.

“yo, y/n! come shotgun a beer with us!” kie and sarah call out, snapping you out of your thoughts. you force a small smile, pushing everything about rafe to the back of your mind as you stand up from the driftwood branch you’d been perched on. joining your girls, you grab a beer and do your best to play along.

as the night rolls on, the beach fills up with more people—kooks, pogues, and everyone in between. the music gets louder, and the air becomes a chaotic mix of laughter, shouting, and waves crashing in the background. drunk teenagers stagger through the sand, passing bottles and shots around, but so far, there haven’t been any issues. yet.

but you know how these nights go. when kooks and pogues show up to the same party, trouble is inevitable. it’s only a matter of time before someone says or does something to spark it. like clockwork.

bright headlights pierce through the darkness, momentarily blinding you as a familiar truck pulls onto the beach. your stomach tightens at the sight, but you force yourself to stay calm, laughing along with your friends as if you hadn’t noticed. even as the kooks around you start murmuring and shouting, announcing rafe’s arrival, you keep your eyes anywhere but on him.

your gaze flicks to sarah, catching the way her jaw tightens when she sees her older brother greeting her old friends with effortless charm. the tension is palpable. it’s no secret that sarah and rafe are far from good terms, and the thought of what she’d do if she ever found out about you and him is enough to make your chest ache. she’d hate you—no question about it.

and you didn’t want that. not now, not ever. so tonight, with enough liquid courage coursing through your veins, you’d finally do it. you’d end whatever this thing was with rafe. it was time. it had to be.

“hey, sweetheart,” jj slurs, suddenly draping an arm over your shoulders, his familiar, lopsided grin plastered across his face. the smell of alcohol lingers on his breath, and you can’t help but laugh. drunk jj was always clingy and affectionate, a far cry from his usual chaotic self.

“how are you? you good?” he asks, his voice softer than usual, his blue eyes lazily scanning your face for any hint of something wrong.

you nod, patting his knee where it rests against yours. “i’m fine, jay. what about you? having fun?”

he grins wider, squeezing your shoulder as if to reassure you. “always. especially now that you’re here.” his words are lighthearted, but his presence, warm and grounding, makes the knot in your stomach ease just a little.

“don’t start something you can’t finish, maybank,” you tease, your tone playful, something that’s always been a part of your dynamic with jj. it was harmless, never anything more than friendly banter. jj was like a brother to you, and you both knew it.

his smirk widens, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “oh, i always finish what i start,” he shoots back, his voice dripping with mock confidence. the comment makes heat rise to your cheeks despite yourself, and you nudge his side with a laugh.

“relax, jj,” you say, still grinning, but he just laughs along with you, clearly enjoying your reaction.

then his tone drops, more conspiratorial now, as he leans in closer. “can i tell you a secret?” he slurs, his voice low and exaggeratedly serious.

you play along, tilting your head toward him as he cups a hand over his mouth like he’s sharing classified information. “i’m so drunk right now,” he whispers dramatically.

a laugh bursts out of you, louder than you intended, as you push him off of you. “no shit, jay,” you say through your giggles, watching him sway slightly before laughing along with you. moments like these made everything feel lighter, even with the weight of everything else hanging in the air.

suddenly, the laughter dies in your throat as a familiar voice cuts through the noise, instantly tightening the tension in your shoulders. “i wanna laugh too,” rafe drawls, his tone sharp and laced with something dangerous.

your head snaps up, and sure enough, there he is, standing a few feet away with his hands casually stuffed into his pockets. but his stare is locked on you, unwavering, intense. your stomach churns as you quickly look away, pretending not to notice.

“what are you doing here, rafe?” sarah asks, her voice cold as ice, glaring at her brother like she wanted him gone before he could stir up trouble.

he shrugs nonchalantly, though the slight clench in his jaw betrays his calm demeanor. “well, last time i checked, you don’t own the beach, sarah,” he retorts, his tone sharp enough to cut. the sunset casts a fiery glow on his face, highlighting the tension in his features. he’s angry—at what, you don’t know, but it’s obvious.

sarah opens her mouth to snap back, but before she can, jj suddenly stands to his feet, his drunken bravado kicking in full force. “what’s your problem, man?” he slurs, his voice rising as he steps forward, shoulders squared like he’s ready to fight.

your heart pounds in your chest as the energy shifts sharply, the tension coiling tighter with every second. it’s like the whole beach can feel it, the calm before the inevitable storm. you glance around nervously, noticing the kooks starting to make their way over, drawn by the brewing conflict like moths to a flame.

what had been your comfortable little corner with your friends now feels suffocating as more and more people gather, the divide between kooks and pogues growing thicker with every step they take. rafe doesn’t move, his stance unbothered but his eyes flickering with something unreadable as they dart between jj and you.

you can hear your friends muttering behind you, tension spreading like wildfire. this wasn’t going to end well—you could feel it in your bones.

john b, ever the peacekeeper, steps in with a steady hand on jj’s shoulder, giving it a calming squeeze. “hey, bro, take a walk,” he says softly, his tone measured, trying to de-escalate before things spiral further.

but jj shakes his head, his expression twisting with frustration. “nah, nah, nah,” he says, shrugging john b’s hand off. his voice is louder now, sharp and angry, fueled by alcohol and pent-up resentment. “i’m so tired of these fuck-ass kooks ruining our fun. everything was fine before they got here.”

he turns to rafe, his eyes blazing with defiance. “so answer the damn question, rafe. what the fuck is your problem?”

the words hang in the air, cutting through the murmur of onlookers as more kooks and pogues close in around you, their postures rigid and ready for whatever’s about to unfold. the tension is suffocating, thick enough to choke on. your stomach twists as you glance between jj, who’s practically vibrating with anger, and rafe, whose jaw is locked, his eyes dark and unreadable.

rafe suddenly lets out a low, humorless laugh, shaking his head like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. he swipes a finger under his nose, his signature tell that trouble is coming. before anyone can react, he steps forward and throws a punch, his fist connecting squarely with jj’s jaw.

the sound of the hit echoes over the beach, silencing the chatter and gasps from the growing crowd. jj stumbles back, catching himself before falling, his hand flying up to his face as he spits blood into the sand.

“you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” john b mutters, stepping between them instinctively, trying to keep jj from lunging forward. but jj’s already shaking with rage, shoving john b aside as the crowd erupts around you.

the once calm beach party turns chaotic, the tension finally snapping into chaos, and you’re frozen in the middle of it all, unsure of what to do as your heart pounds in your chest.

mayhem erupts around you as everyone starts shouting, the noise almost deafening. jj and rafe are swinging at each other, fists flying with raw anger. john b and topper try to break it up, but their own simmering tensions (sarah cameron) boil over, and soon enough, they’re throwing punches at each other too.

“alright! alright!” you, sarah, and kie yell, your voices cutting through the chaos as you rush in, desperately trying to pull the four boys apart. it’s a mess of flailing arms, insults, and drunken fury, but with the help of the other pogues and even a few kooks who seem equally tired of the drama, you finally manage to separate them.

jj stands a few feet away now, chest heaving as he wipes blood from his lip, glaring daggers at rafe. rafe, meanwhile, is being restrained by two kooks, his jaw tight and his eyes locked on jj like he’s ready to go again at any second. john b and topper aren’t much better, breathing heavily and throwing venomous insults back and forth as they’re held apart.

you step back, your heart still racing as the crowd buzzes with murmurs and tension, the air thick and electric. this was far from over, and you could feel it.

“yeah, stay the fuck off our side of the island!” jj yells, his voice sharp and unwavering as the kooks start retreating. rafe lingers, of course, making direct eye contact with you. his gaze burns, but you glare right back, your frustration simmering beneath the surface. whatever you needed to say to him was definitely happening tonight after the shit he just pulled.

“take jj to the chateau. i think there’s a first aid kit in the bathroom,” john b instructs kie and pope, his tone calm but firm. they nod, each grabbing one of jj’s arms to help guide him away. jj, still riled up, mutters under his breath about how much of a pussy rafe is, his words slurring slightly from the drinks and adrenaline.

sarah walks over to you, concern etched across her face. “hey, you okay?” she asks gently. her voice is soft, but the sincerity in her eyes almost undoes you. you nod quickly, blinking back the tears threatening to spill over.

“yeah, i’m fine. just anxious,” you respond, your voice steady enough to sound convincing. it’s not entirely a lie, but it’s far from the whole truth. sarah offers you a small, understanding smile, her hand rubbing your arm soothingly.

“coming?” she asks, gesturing toward john b, who’s waiting for her a few feet away.

“i think i’m just gonna head home,” you say, your voice a little rushed. “my mom texted—she got off work early, so…” you let the excuse hang in the air, hoping it’s enough.

sarah nods slowly, her eyes flickering with a mix of understanding and suspicion. “john b and i can walk you,” she offers.

“no, it’s okay. i kinda need a moment,” you reply quickly, your voice firmer this time. you hold your breath as her gaze lingers on you, studying you for a beat too long. but thankfully, she doesn’t press it.

“okay, babe,” she says finally, her concern softening into a warm smile. “let me know when you get home, yeah?”

you nod, watching as she walks back toward john b, the two of them eventually disappearing into the growing shadows. only when they’re far enough away do you exhale, the weight of the night pressing heavy on your chest.

with one last glance at the party starting to settle back down, you turn and walk in the opposite direction, knowing exactly where you’re going—and who you’re going to face.

you make your way over to the truck, its headlights dim now but still parked exactly where he left it. crossing your arms over your chest, you lean against the back door of the truck, waiting. it’s quiet here, tucked away from the rest of the beach where no one can see you.

the sound of approaching footsteps pulls your attention, and there he is. rafe cameron, calm and collected as ever, despite the chaos he caused. he’s holding a red solo cup against his cheekbone, the faintest shadow of a bruise forming. but even so, you have to admit—he doesn’t look nearly as bad as jj does. of course he doesn’t.

his eyes meet yours, and for a moment, neither of you say anything. the tension between you is thicker than ever, the air heavy with unspoken words. you take a deep breath, preparing yourself for what you came here to do.

“i can’t see you anymore, rafe,” you say, finally breaking the silence. your voice is firm, but you can feel the ache behind the words, threatening to betray you.

rafe doesn’t move. instead, a small, almost smug smile quirks at the corner of his lips. “get in the truck,” he says, his tone low and even, like it’s not up for debate.

your brows knit together, your frustration bubbling up. did he not hear you? or worse, did he just not care? “no, rafe,” you snap, shaking your head. “what you did today—” you pause, letting out a sharp sigh as the memories replay in your mind. your gaze shifts over his shoulder to the road, watching cars pass by, their headlights a welcome distraction. “you hurt my friends,” you continue, your voice quieter now but still steady. “i care a lot about my friends. and that shit you pulled back there?” you point toward the spot on the beach where the chaos unfolded, the tension still lingering in the air. “wasn’t cool.”

rafe follows your gesture with a glance, his expression unreadable. but when his eyes flick back to you, there’s something in them—something dangerous, something unshaken. he doesn’t respond, just waits, like he knows you’re not finished yet.

“why would you do that?” your voice cracks despite your best effort to keep it steady. the words hang heavy in the air, and you curse softly under your breath, furious with yourself for letting your emotions bubble over. you promised you wouldn’t let him see you like this—wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry. but now, the tears are pricking at the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill.

rafe’s face doesn’t change, his jaw tight but his expression otherwise calm, almost detached. it’s like he’s weighing his words, deciding what to say—or if he’ll even bother answering at all. the silence feels suffocating, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on your chest.

“are you fucking him?” rafe finally speaks, his voice low and steady, but the accusation behind the words hits you like a slap. you stare at him, wide-eyed, like he’s just grown three heads.

a laugh of disbelief escapes you as you shake your head, running a hand through your hair to keep yourself from losing it. “are you serious right now?” you ask, your voice teetering between anger and shock.

“are you?” he presses, his tone sharper this time, his eyes locked on yours, unrelenting.

“oh my god,” you mutter, another laugh bubbling out, this one laced with frustration. “is that why you did that? you think i’ve been fucking one of my best friends? are you shitting me, rafe?” you shake your head again, the absurdity of the accusation almost too much to handle.

he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t back down, his gaze still burning into yours like he’s waiting for you to crack. but you don’t—at least, not yet.

“well, since we’re just accusing each other of shit now,” you say, your voice sharp as a knife, “how’s stacy doing?” your eyes flicker between his, and just like you predicted, his confidence falters. there’s a moment—a flicker—where his gaze drops, and you pounce. “i assume she was busy tonight, right? that why you texted me?”

“what the fuck are you talking about?” rafe snaps, his chest rising and falling heavily as he steps closer, his frustration spilling over.

“oh, don’t give me that shit, rafe,” you fire back, crossing your arms tightly over your chest. your eyes dart away from his, landing anywhere but on him. “i saw you at the country club,” you continue, your voice cold, the memory still fresh.

his jaw tightens, but he doesn’t say anything, and the silence only fuels your anger. “and even then,” you add, spinning back to face him, your words cutting like glass, “what if i am fucking jj? what is it to you? you’re the one who said no strings attached, right?”

you see the way his nostrils flare, his jaw clenching so tightly you think it might snap. his eyes darken, and you know exactly what he’s thinking—the thought of jj seeing you the way rafe has, touching you, hearing the sounds you make. it’s killing him. but he won’t say it. not out loud.

“you’re mad, rafe,” you say, your voice quieter now but still firm. “but you don’t get to be. not after the rules you set.”

you push past him, deciding you were done—done with the accusations, the games, all of it. but, of course, you don’t get far. rafe’s hand closes firmly around your wrist, yanking you back toward him with enough force that you stumble. before you can steady yourself, you collide with his chest, the hard press of muscle against you taking your breath away.

his lips crash against yours without warning, rough and demanding, pulling a shocked gasp from your lips. the intensity of it sends a jolt through you, but it’s not enough to freeze you in place. your fists fly up, pushing hard against his chest, trying to shove him off.

“rafe,” you manage, your voice muffled against his lips, but it’s like he doesn’t even hear you. instead, your resistance only seems to fuel him, his free hand sliding up to wrap around your neck, not too tight, but firm enough to hold you there.

his lips move hungrily against yours, his breath hot, his grip unwavering. you can feel the frustration, the anger, and something else tangled in the way he kisses you—something you can’t name, something overwhelming. your heart races, torn between wanting to fight and the way your body reacts instinctively to his touch.

you hated it. hated how easily your body betrayed you, handing itself over to him without a second thought. and the worst part? rafe knew it too. he always did.

he used it to his advantage every time, just like now. the second your resistance began to falter, the tension in your fists loosening as your body instinctively softened against his, that familiar smug smile tugged at the corners of his lips. he could feel it—the way your resolve was slipping, the way the pull between you was overtaking every logical thought in your mind.

the familiarity of him started to seep through, clouding the anger that had burned so brightly just moments ago. rafe’s grip on your neck relaxed slightly, his fingers brushing your skin like he had all the time in the world, as if he wasn’t the reason you’d wanted to end this in the first place.

and god, you hated him for it. but you hated yourself even more. no matter how much you told yourself to walk away, to end it, your body always seemed to betray you the moment his hands were on you.

before you even realized what was happening, you were in the back seat of rafe’s truck, straddling his lap. his hands gripped your hips with bruising force, guiding your movements as you instinctively rolled against him. the friction of his hardened, clothed cock pressing against you sent shivers up your spine, a traitorous whimper slipping past your lips.

his breath was hot against your neck, his lips brushing your skin as he let out a low groan of satisfaction. you hated how easily he got to you, how the anger you felt just moments ago melted into something entirely different. but no matter how much you wanted to stop, your body moved on its own, craving the familiarity of him, the intensity only he could give you.

his hands move from gripping your hips to trailing up your back, his fingers deftly finding the string of your bikini top. with a quick tug, the knot unravels, and the fabric falls between you, exposing your chest to the cool night air. the intimate sound of your breathing mixes with the muffled noise of the distant beach party, but all you can focus on is him.

rafe wastes no time, leaning in to pepper kisses across your chest. each press of his lips ignites a trail of goosebumps on your skin, the sensation making you arch closer to him. his mouth finds one of your hardened nipples, pulling it into his mouth as his hand cups the other, his fingers teasing and rolling with practiced precision.

a moan slips from your lips, filling the still air around you. rafe hums in satisfaction, his hot breath fanning against your sensitive skin. his grip on you tightens as he continues, clearly intent on drawing every reaction out of you that he can.

“fuck, i missed you,” he breathes, his voice low and ragged as he pulls back just enough to let the words slip past his lips. before you can even process them, his mouth is back on you, his lips and tongue working their way across your skin, pulling a broken whimper from your throat.

you shake your head weakly, your fingers gripping his shoulders, trying to ground yourself. “no, you didn’t,” you whisper, your voice trembling, the words more of a desperate plea than an accusation.

rafe pauses, his lips hovering over your collarbone. his hands tighten their hold on your waist, pulling you impossibly closer as he meets your gaze, his blue eyes blown out. “yes, i did,” he mutters, his tone firm, almost defensive, before dipping his head back down to kiss you again, as if he could erase the doubt you so clearly feel.

with one hand, he makes quick work of the button on your shorts, pulling them down just enough to give himself better access. his hand slips past the waistband of your bikini bottoms, his fingers brushing against your heated skin. the low groan that escapes his lips when he feels how soaked you are sends a jolt of heat straight through you.

“not surprising,” he mutters against your lips, his voice thick with smug satisfaction.

you gasp, your head falling back slightly as his fingers glide through your folds, gathering your arousal before starting slow, deliberate circles against your clit. the sensation sparks through you, making your hips instinctively rock against his hand, chasing the friction.

rafe’s smirk deepens as he watches you, his free hand gripping your waist tighter to keep you steady. “that’s it, pretty girl,” he murmurs, his voice low and gravelly, dripping with control. “just like that.”

a moan escapes your lips when his fingers pick up their pace, his breathing becoming heavier against your neck. “think that pogue could get you to cum like i can, huh?” he taunts, his words cutting through the haze of pleasure. before you can respond, his fingers dip into your entrance, filling you to where you feel the cold metal ring wrapped around his finger, while his thumb presses firmly against your clit. the double stimulation sends a shockwave through you, your hands fisting his shirt as you struggle to stifle the moans threatening to spill out.

you bite down hard on your lip, trying not to give him the satisfaction he craves, but it’s so hard—he knows your body too well.

“i know he can,” you finally manage to retort, your voice breathless but defiant. the second the words leave your mouth, you see it—the flicker of rage that darkens his eyes. his movements grow rougher, more deliberate, as if he’s determined to make you eat your words.

you sob out a moan, your body trembling as his pace remains relentless, refusing to give you even a second to catch your breath. “the fuck he can,” he growls, his voice low and feral, watching with a smug satisfaction as you struggle to keep yourself upright. his smirk deepens as he leans in, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss, all teeth and desperation, swallowing your broken cries.

your hands cling to his shoulders as waves of pleasure crash through you, your body arching into his touch. his fingers work you expertly, his movements precise and unyielding as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge, your breaths coming out in ragged gasps.

“c’mon, baby,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice rough and dripping with desperation. “let me hear you.” his words send a shiver down your spine, and you feel yourself teetering on the brink, unable to hold back any longer.

you feel yourself start to convulse around his fingers, your body trembling as a broken cry tears from your lips. the waves of your orgasm crash over you, leaving you breathless and weak. rafe keeps going, his fingers guiding you through every pulse of pleasure, not stopping until your body begins to twitch with hints of overstimulation. but there’s no tenderness in it—not that you deserved any, not after what you said.

your earlier comment still burned in his mind, fueling a fire in his chest, the thought of you with jj maybank making him see red. it wasn’t about trust—it was about possession, and rafe couldn’t stand the idea of someone else touching what he considered his.

without warning, he grabs your waist and flips you around, pressing your head against the leather seat, your ass in the air. your shorts and bikini bottoms are gone in one swift motion, leaving you completely exposed. you barely have time to react before you hear the sound of his zipper, his own clothes hitting the floor of the truck in a mess.

“you wanna talk about jj?” he growls, his voice low and dripping with frustration as he positions himself at your entrance, the heat of him pressing against you. “let’s see if you’re still thinking about him when I’m done with you.”

before you can process his words, he thrusts into you without warning, burying himself to the hilt in one swift, punishing motion. the stretch is overwhelming, a cry slipping from your lips, quickly muffled as you press your face into the seat.

rafe doesn’t give you a moment to adjust, setting a relentless, eye-rolling pace that has your body jolting with every thrust. his hands grip your waist tightly, pulling you back to meet each snap of his hips, his frustration evident in the way he moves.

“you feel that?” he mutters, his voice rough and breathless as he leans over you, his chest grazing your back. “that’s all me. no one else, you hear me?” his words mix with the sound of skin against skin, every syllable driving him deeper, leaving you a trembling mess beneath him.

you nod dumbly, unable to form words as your body reacts to his every movement. a gasp tears from your lips when his arm snakes around your neck, pulling you upright slightly and holding you firmly in place. the pressure makes your head spin, amplifying every sensation coursing through your body.

the truck fills with the obscene sounds of wet slaps and desperate moans, each one louder than the last. your cries mix with rafe’s rough groans, the intensity between you reaching a fever pitch. you briefly thank your lucky stars that his truck has fully blacked-out windows, shielding this mess of tangled limbs and raw need from prying eyes.

rafe moans in your ear, his voice thick with possession, his breath hot against your skin. “all mine. no one else gets to have you like this.” his pace never falters, every thrust pushing you closer to the edge again, leaving you gasping and trembling under his control.

just when you think the pleasure is close to consuming you whole, rafe’s fingers snake down between your thighs, finding your clit with infuriating precision. he rubs quick, tight circles, the added sensation pulling a choked cry from your lips as your body jerks in response.

your arm flings back instinctively, your hand finding the back of his neck, clutching onto him desperately as if he’s the only thing keeping you upright. his breath is hot against your ear, ragged and uneven, matching the force of his thrusts.

“fuck, baby,” he groans softly, his voice laced with satisfaction as he feels you trembling against him. “you’re gonna cum, aren’t you?”

“rafe—“ you moan, your grip on his neck tightening as the overwhelming mix of sensations sends you spiraling, your body teetering on the brink. every snap of his hips, every movement of his fingers, pushes you closer, the pleasure crashing over you in waves as you fight to keep from collapsing back into the seat.

your body trembles uncontrollably as the wave of pleasure crashes over you, your walls tightening around him with a vice-like grip. rafe grunts, his breath ragged and uneven as he feels you squeezing him, the sensation tipping him over the edge.

“shit,” he moans, his voice low and strained, giving one last stuttered thrust before he stills, his release spilling into you. the warmth of him floods your core, the weight of his body pressing against yours as he rides out his high, panting heavily into the crook of your neck.

the air in the truck is thick, the only sounds now the mingling of your heavy breathing and the faint hum of the world outside—so distant it feels like it doesn’t even exist. rafe’s hand loosens its hold on your hip along with the arm around your neck, his thumb lazily brushing your skin as he finally starts to come down.

rafe’s forehead, damp with sweat, rests against your shoulder for a moment as he catches his breath. Slowly, he pulls out of you, leaving you trembling and weak-kneed. Sensing it, he carefully guides you to sit on the seat, his touch surprisingly gentle now, as if trying not to shatter the fragile silence between you.

but it doesn’t last long. the haze starts to lift, post-sex clarity hitting you like a wave. your heart pounds—not from pleasure anymore, but from the weight of everything that just happened. you don’t look at him, don’t say a word. instead, you scramble off the seat, your eyes scanning the floor of the truck as you rush to gather your clothes. the humid air clings to your skin, suffocating you, making it feel like the walls of the truck are closing in.

“y/n,” rafe starts, his voice softer now, but you don’t respond, just shake your head. You tug your shorts on with shaky hands, your bikini top still tangled in your grasp as you turn your back to him, your only thought being how fast you can get out of this damn truck.

as soon as you adjust your bikini top, you’re scrambling for the door handle, slipping out of the truck as quickly as you can. the door slams shut behind you with a loud thud, cutting off the heavy silence inside. rafe’s voice calls after you, his tone somewhere between frustration and confusion, but you don’t look back. you don’t even slow down.

his words echo faintly in the humid night air as you trudge across the sand, but you block them out, your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

you hated yourself in this moment—really hated yourself. how could you be so weak? jj was probably back at the chateau right now, an ice pack pressed to his bruised face, joking it off like he always did. meanwhile, you were here, tangled up with the very person responsible for putting him there.

it made your stomach twist. you felt pathetic.

the guilt gnawed at you, making every step away from that truck feel heavier, like you were sinking further into something you didn’t know how to escape. you wrap your arms around yourself, the night air cold against your skin, and silently vow—never again.

as you step into your home, the soft glow of the television catches your eye. your mom is asleep on the couch, the faint sound of some late-night show playing in the background. you pause, the sight of her peaceful face tugging at something inside you. quietly, you grab the nearest blanket and drape it over her, tucking it gently around her frame before turning off the TV.

you make your way to your room, your body heavy with exhaustion. pulling out your phone, the screen lights up with countless missed calls and texts—all from him. rafe’s name stares back at you, the words call me back and where did you go? flashing among the messages. with a sigh, you open the contact and quickly silence his notifications. blocking him would feel too final, too harsh, and you know it wouldn’t stop him anyway. rafe knew where to find you—where you lived, where you spent your time, even your favorite food spot. blocking him would only provoke him further.

you drop your phone on the bed and head straight for the bathroom, turning the shower dial as cold as it would go. the icy water hits your skin like needles, but you welcome it, hoping it’ll wash away everything—his touch, his words, the feeling of his hands on your body.

but no matter how long you stand there, no matter how hard you scrub, the memories resurface, unrelenting. the way he looked at you. the sound of his voice. the pull he always had on you. you press your forehead against the cool tile, biting back the emotions threatening to overwhelm you.

how did it get this far?

the muffled vibration of your phone stirs you from sleep, the name sarah 🐚 lighting up the screen. groaning, you fumble for the phone and press it to your ear, voice still thick with sleep. “hell—”

“is it true?” sarah’s voice crackles through the static, sharp and tense, jolting you fully awake. your eyes shoot open, the confusion and dread hitting you all at once.

“sarah, what—” you begin, but she doesn’t let you finish.

“got it,” she says curtly, and before you can protest, the line goes dead.

you pull the phone away from your ear, staring at the dark screen as if it could offer you answers. confusion twists in your chest, but then you see it—a new message notification from her.

your hands tremble slightly as you unlock your phone and click the message. the screen shifts to a video file, sent from an anonymous number. you hesitate, the dread creeping up your spine like ice, but you press play.

the blood drains from your face as the video begins. it’s you—you and rafe. the footage is grainy, but it’s unmistakable. you see yourself pressed against the back door of his truck, his hands gripping you as you melt into the heated kiss. the angle shifts slightly, shaky and invasive, capturing the moment he pushes you inside the truck. and then—cut.

the video ends abruptly, leaving you staring at the black screen, your heart racing so hard you can feel it in your throat. you drop the phone onto your bed, your blood running cold as the weight of it crashes over you.

someone had seen. someone knew. and now sarah did too.

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

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leyiorr · 2 months ago

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you and satoru decide pretty quickly that you want your daughter’s ears pierced.

she’s a gorgeous baby; bright blue eyes and soft white hair just like her father. her nose and lips are your genetic touch, and satoru insists that it’s your features that make her look so adorable.

you’d asked your husband what he thought about getting her ears pierced so young, and obviously he thought it was a great idea - his two favourite girls should match earrings.

and so, once she’s old enough, the two of you bring her to a store to get her ears done.

satoru has her sat on his lap, entertaining her as you spoke with the piercer about the placing and colour of the earrings. he talks to her like he can understand her baby babble; no one understands his daughter better than he does.

eventually, the time comes, and the piercer lines up the piercing gun with your daughter’s ear after marking the spot with temporary ink. she’s giggling gleefully, trying to grab hold of the piercer’s hair.

satou’s anxiety is on high, he doesn’t want his daughter to flinch and cause an injury that no one wants. the peircer seems nice enough though, and her friendly smile coupled with your hand on his shoulder and his baby’s laughter settles his nerves marginally.

but he speaks too soon.

the minute the metal pierces her skin, your daughter instantly breaks into tears, twisting her small body toward her daddy as she lets out dramatic screeches of pain. satoru’s heart sinks immediately, large hands gently trying to soothe his daughter - her tiny ones fist his shirt like a lifeline.

she cries and cries like she’s dying, and satoru feels his soul bleed.

“daddy’s sorry, baby,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss to her forehead, “it’ll go away soon. i wish i could help you, sweets.”

but she’s having none of it, crying harder when he tries to put her back into position. he feels his own eyes sting; his heart aches from being unable to take away his precious daughter’s pain.

his eyes snap up to your face, hoping you’ll have some insight on how to help her. you’re smiling fondly, softly pinching her cheeks in effort to distract her from the pain.

“don’t be dramatic,” you scold sweetly, dropping into a crouch to press sloppy kisses to her chubby cheeks.

she hiccups, letting her father’s shirt go in favour of trying to grab your nose instead. her cries turn into wet giggles within a few seconds and satoru feels relief fill his veins.

you look up at him with a raised eyebrow, “i mean you, mister.”

it takes him a full second to realize that there are tears rolling down his face, and he quickly wipes his eyes in embarrassment. he hears the piercer giggle; may the ground open up and swallow him whole.

“you’re such a baby,” you say, but your heart felt so full - your husband just cried at his daughter getting her ears pierced? you were never going to let him live that down.

satoru doesn’t say anything, obediently allowing you to tilt his head back to meet you in a kiss. through the salty taste of his tears and your fingers holding his throat he doesn’t even notice when the piercer approaches again, quietly lining up with the other dot.

she looks to you for consent, and you give a subtle nod as you continue to distract your husband with kisses. he breaks it in surprise when he feels your daughter flinch, though this time there’s no wails.

he looks down. her face is scrunched up in effort not to cry, cheeks puffed up as she looks up at her father proudly as if to say: look, daddy, i didn’t cry that time!

he feels his eyes fill up again. his head drops to rest on his daughter, kissing her all over her face and eliciting a series of giggles.

“that’s my girl,” he boasts proudly, grinning wide while bouncing her on his knee, “i knew you could do it!”

he hears you laugh from the counter, “you cried the most, satoru.”

he scoffs, picking the baby up and nuzzling his face against hers, “i don’t know how you didn’t! her cries broke my heart!”

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agxxb · 2 months ago

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Prettier Than a Star .𖥔 ݁ ˖

rafe cameron x f!reader

summary: when rafe finds you alone, you finally get to know one another.

warnings: smut. unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), oral (f!receiving). use of pet names (baby, sweetheart). praise. underage drinking. best friend’s brother. [5k]

read part two here!

“You’re not supposed to be out here. It’s off-limits to guests.” You turned around in surprise upon hearing a new voice, only relaxing after seeing the familiar face. “Ah, it’s just you.”

Rafe’s head cocked to the side, surprised to see you standing on one of Tanneyhill’s many balconies — but it was a pleasant surprise. He didn’t smile, but his expression softened just a little.

“Sorry, Rafe,” you apologised, a small yet sheepish smile on your face. You hadn’t expected anyone to find you, let alone your friend’s older brother. You just wanted peace and quiet away from the jamboree happening below.

Rafe walked over with a hand in his jeans’ pocket, the other holding a beer. He turned and leaned against the rails beside you. “Didn’t expect to see you at my party.”

“Sarah invited me,” you explained, a short shrug following as you took a deep breath through your nose. “She kinda left me alone as soon as she saw her boyfriend, and I got overwhelmed with the party. This was the only place I knew no one would be.”

Rafe chuckled lightly. “Sounds like Sarah.” He shook his head. He couldn’t lie and say he was surprised Sarah had ditched you. “What? Can’t handle a little party?” he asked, clearly teasing you.

“I can.” You shot him a look, but still grinned. “Just not when people I don’t know are shoving unknown drinks into my face.”

He smirked, taking a quick swig of beer from the bottle. “Hey, those are the best kind of drinks. Free alcohol is good alcohol.” He glanced over at you as he spoke. “You should’ve just come found me when Sarah ditched you.”

“Free drinks are the best, but not when there’s a possibility of them being spiked,” You gave him another small smile before shrugging. “And, in all honesty, I didn’t even think you liked me enough to talk to me. You’ve only ever spoken to me when Sarah’s been there.”

Rafe’s smirk faltered, and his expression softened ever-so-slightly. “Why wouldn’t I like you?” he asked, cocking his head to the side again, looking at you. “You’re one of the few people that Sarah hangs out with that I don’t want to throw into a wall the moment I see them,” he added, giving a scoff of a laugh.

You smiled at Rafe’s words, letting out a short chuckle. He kept his gaze on you for a moment more, something almost thoughtful crossing his face before he looked out to the front grounds of the house.

The night sky was vast, the stars glimmering above. The sea breeze was cool and fresh against your skin, and the sounds from the party down below were just low enough to be a distant rumble. It was nice and peaceful.

“I’ve always adored the island,” you said after a short while of silence, following his eye-line to admire the view: the sea in the far back, the beautiful sunset just above the sea line, and the houses in the close distance.

Rafe looked away from the view, to you, listening to you. He’d never really paid much attention to how beautiful the island really was. The night was nice, though; even he could admit that. He thought about making a snide comment about the view – that it’d be prettier with a joint or drug to enhance it – but didn’t. Instead, he just nodded.

“It is nice,” he agreed, taking another swig of the beer in his hand.

He turned to lean against the railing once more, his side now facing you. He raised the bottle to his lips, tilting his head back as he took a healthy sip, enjoying the taste of it. It went quiet again, and he glanced at you from the corner of his eye. He watched as you kept your gaze on the sky, and you looked almost mesmerised.

It was almost like you were in a trance, the way you just watched the stars above. The sight was honestly rather fascinating to Rafe; He’d never seen anyone just stare into space. He continued to watch you though, and found himself almost studying how captivated you were by the stars, like there was some sort of peace in that moment.

“You like the stars?” Rafe heard himself ask, his voice low and casual as he looked upwards as well.

“Oh, I adore them…” Your eyes twinkled whilst the stars blinked. You smiled, a small one, but it was filled with admiration and fascination.

Rafe listened intently, watching as the soft smile appeared on your face, and he found himself feeling a sense of curiosity. “Why?”

“Because it’s all unknown. It’s scary, but also so cool.”

Rafe hummed lowly, and he found he actually agreed a bit with what you said. The stars and sky were definitely a little scary, but the unknown always was. And yet, it was interesting, too.

He went silent for a few moments, the alcohol in his system making him more relaxed and a bit less guarded. He felt more open, like he could say things he wouldn’t normally say, and that was why he spoke again after a moment of silence. “Want some?”

You looked over at Rafe, seeing him tilting his beer in your direction. You accepted his offer with a smile, taking the glass bottle from his hold and bringing it up to your mouth, wrapping your lips around the top and tilting your head back.

Rafe watched your actions, licking his lips as his thoughts spiralled. He found his eyes trailing over your face, lingering on your eyes, and then your lips, which looked soft and full. The alcohol he had consumed had made his thoughts fuzzy, and he suddenly found himself imagining something else instead of the beer bottle.

The thoughts of how you looked and the soft tone of your voice made his mind wander, imagining what sounds you might make in other situations.

"What’re you doing?" you teased, biting your bottom lip and moving slightly closer to Rafe. You had noticed him staring, scanning your body and – possibly –admiring you.

Rafe knew he had been caught looking at you, and he didn't even know what to say when you moved closer. He tried to keep his composure, though he found his eyes straying once more as he noticed a glimpse of your collarbone.

"I'm enjoying the view.”

"Yeah?" You lightly blushed, cheeks turning a pink champagne, and smiled up at him. "Enjoying it, hm?"

Rafe was captivated as you smiled at him, and his breath hitched as he watched you take another sip of his beer. It was more than a little attractive, and he found his thoughts getting muddled again, his mind wandering to places it had no business going.

"Yeah," he answered simply, his voice coming out deep and rough as he shrugged.

He tried to look away, but he found himself looking at you again, eyes drifting from your collarbone and over the swell of your chest. He knew he was being obvious with his staring, but he couldn't help it. He found himself admiring you, the soft curves and slopes of your body, the shape of your hips. Even though you were still standing a few inches apart, he was suddenly aware of how close you were, and he wanted you to be closer.

“Just admiring?” you wondered aloud, almost hinting at the fact you wanted him to do more.

Rafe briefly wondered what would happen if he reached out and touched you, to feel his hands on your skin. It would probably be so soft, he bet. He could smell the sweet scent of your perfume, and it was like an invitation to him.

His eyes flicked back up to your lips when you bit your bottom one, and he found himself wondering what they would feel like against his own. He took a step forward, his boots thudding against the balcony floor, and reached out, his fingers hovering a few inches away from your skin, the tips of his fingers just barely touching your cheek.

Rafe slowly lowered his hand until it connected, gently resting his palm against the soft skin of your cheek. He gently caressed your skin, feeling the softness underneath his fingers as he stroked your cheek. He felt emboldened, and the alcohol in his system made him a more reckless.

“Your hand's warm," you told him, resting your cheek into his palm. You were aware of Rafe's history and his anger issues, but you weren’t scared of him... especially after the way he'd treated you that night. Rafe hummed in acknowledgement, trying to ignore the way his heart flipped at how you leaned into his touch.

He wanted this, wanted to touch you, and he wanted more than that, too... so much more.

"You're soft," Rafe mumbled, his voice rougher than usual, and he let his thumb gently brush against your jawline.

"I am?" you asked, almost shy after hearing him say you were soft. He hummed in response once again, unable to stop himself from gently rubbing his thumb along your skin, slowly, over and over again.

"Yeah," he murmured, his voice still sounding rough, and his thumb started to travel down the slope of your neck. "Soft everywhere."

“You haven’t even touched me everywhere.”

Rafe’s eyes snapped up to yours, trying to see if there were any hints of intoxication behind your words. He let his fingers press gently against the underside of your chin, just barely lifting it.

"You like when I touch you?" he asked quietly, the words just slipping from his mouth. You hummed a response, agreeing to his question silently, and a rush of heat flowed through him. “Can I kiss you?”

“Please.”

The way you almost begged for a kiss made his lips twitch up. His hand slowly moved to the back of your neck as he gently pulled you forward, tilting your chin up. He looked into your eyes as his face hovered close to yours, wanting to make sure you really wanted this. His breath fanned over your face, and he slowly closed the remaining gap to press his lips against yours.

Rafe let himself just hold his lips against yours for a second, just the briefest moment, before he really kissed you. His lips moved against yours, molding themselves to your mouth in a shockingly gentle action.

You moaned softly as your lips moved together, never wanting to stop kissing now you had tasted him. Your hands lifted, placing the beer bottle on the balcony to your right before you touched him: one hand on his torso and the other on the back of his neck, fingers gently scratching at the nape.

At the sound of your soft moan, something inside Rafe snapped. He felt your hands on his skin, the feeling of your fingers scraping against his neck just made him want more, and so he took more by pressing his lips harder against yours.

Rafe quickly wrapped his other arm around your waist, pulling you flush against his front, and he let his tongue gently slide across your bottom lip. His mind was a chaotic mess of thoughts, filled with just need and want and you. He was vaguely aware of the party going on below, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Rafe groaned and pressed even closer against you, pinning you up against the railing. He let his tongue explore your mouth, tasting you before he raised a hand to your throat once again, tilting your head to the side and away from his. He started gently nibbling and sucking on the skin there, letting his lips travel down over your pulse.

“Fuck,” you moaned quietly, closing your eyes as you basked in the pleasure gained from him kissing your neck. “Rafe…”

He felt a rush of satisfaction at the way you gasped his name, the sound going straight to his already-hardening cock. His lips continued to move along the skin on your neck, sucking and then biting down gently, trying to get more of those sweet sounds out of you.

“You sound so sweet when you say my name like that,” Rafe muttered in a deep grumble against your skin as his free hand started to slowly lift up the edge of your shirt.

He felt another rush of heat flow through him, settling deep in the pit of his stomach, at the breathy sound you made in reply to his praise. He let his fingers slide across the newly-exposed skin of your hip, his warm touch sending shivers through you.

“You gonna let me take you to my room?” he asked huskily, pulling back from your neck to look into your eyes again.

“Is that what you want?” you asked him with a soft grin, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek. You tilted his head to the side, littering kissing up and down the column of his neck.

Rafe groaned as he gave you more access to his neck, pressing lower-half against you, and his fingers dug into your hips. He was already so hard, just from the way you sounded and the feel of your lips. He felt like his brain was completely clouded over now, and he couldn’t think of anything except you.

You hummed, lightly nipping at his neck and smiling softly as you heard Rafe let out a sound, like a moan had been caught in his throat. You pulled the collar of his shirt to the side, sucking at the skin between his neck and shoulder, leaving a mark and soothing over it with your tongue.

“Fuuuuuuck,” Rafe groaned again, the feeling of your tongue making him shiver. He took a shuddering breath as he tried to force himself to think clearly, but all he could really think about was your mouth on his skin.

Feeling how hard he was against your lower stomach, you pulled back to bite your lower lip. “You wanna take me into your room, Rafe? Wanna have your way and do whatever you want to me? Make me feel good?”

The teasing tone of your voice had his lust-filled brain short-circuiting. He felt your hand press against his hard length and he gritted his teeth, your hand moving up to slide over his abs, feeling his muscles tense.

“You keep doing that, and I won’t be able to make it to my room,” his voice was low and gravelly as he spoke.

“Yeah, pretty boy?”

He grunted as he felt an unexpected rush of heat at the nickname, and length twitched against your stomach. “Keep it up, and you won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”

“What if that’s what I want?” you whispered into his ear, leaving another peck against his cheek.

Rafe quickly turned his face to capture your lips with his own, the kiss anything but slow or gentle. He tried to pour all of his need into it, pushing his tongue into your mouth and hungrily tasting you. He nipped at your bottom lip, his teeth scraping against your sensitive skin, and he began to move his mouth down over your jaw.

“Take me inside, Rafe. Please.”

He heard the hint of a moan in your voice, and the way you said his name, begging him to take you inside, was almost his undoing. He needed to get you alone, behind a locked door. Now.

Rafe pulled back, looking at you, his eyes dilated and filled with so much lust that it was like he’d completely lost himself in the need for you. “Come with me,” he said, voice raw, and he stepped away, just enough to grab your hand.

He wasted no time in pulling you along with him, hurrying through the balcony doors into the house, barely giving you a second to shut the door behind you before he was pulling you down a hallway and toward his room at the end. Rafe quickly opened his door and pulled you inside, shutting it behind you and locking it.

He pushed you up against the door, trapping you with his body. “Please fuck me,” you begged with a moan, fisting at the fabric of his button-up shirt.

The sound of your soft, pleading moan and your words made his head spin. At that exact moment, he was done trying to control himself. He felt his brain shut down, any higher thought completely gone, and he suddenly all he cared about was getting his hands on you.

He quickly unbuttoned his shirt, pulling it off and tossing it aside, before his hands almost immediately went to the shirt you were wearing. “Too many clothes,” he whispered thickly, his voice barely more than a rough grumble.

The moment he could see your skin, Rafe’s hands were on you again, touching you, feeling you. He couldn’t help but notice the little shivers you were making when he did. He brought his lips down to your neck once again, leaving more hot, wet kisses. His tongue traced the hollow of your jaw as his hands outlined your body, his touch rougher and greedier with each passing second.

Rafe let his lips move lower, down your neck and over your chest, sucking and kissing, his teeth gently scraping against your skin as he went. He stopped just above the line of your bra, taking it off before looking at you. You looked gorgeous: hair all tousled, marks already forming all over your skin, and breathing heavy.

“You’re so goddamn beautiful,” Rafe muttered almost gruffly, his eyes travelling over your face and down your body.

“Only for you, pretty boy,” you bit your bottom lip, running your fingers over his buzzed head as he knelt down in front of you, his hands on your hips.

He couldn’t help the way his breath hitched at the feeling of your fingers. He felt himself almost entranced by you, your sounds, words, and touch making it so that he didn’t care about anything other than you.

He continued his journey down your body, his lips on your stomach, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses and bites on your skin. His hands started to wander too, touching and exploring, sliding over your legs and moving up the inside of your thighs.

He looked up at you, watching your face as did so, the urge to mark you as his so primal and strong. He continued to kiss the tops of your thighs, leaving another mark behind before slowly making his way up again, closer and closer to the edge of your underwear.

“Fuck… Please.”

“Please what, Sweetheart?” He let his hands slide up your sides to your lower back, hooking his fingers on the edge of your underwear. He started to pull them down, his eyes still looking at you for your reaction. “C’mon… talk to me.”

“Please touch me.” Tears began to form in your’ eyes, but not from upset or pain; you were so turned on and impatient — you needed Rafe to touch you. “I’m so wet for you. Please.”

His own breathing was ragged now, his eyes dilated to the point the blue of them was almost completely gone, only a ring around the edge of his pupils visible. The way you sounded, so desperate and needy, almost had him fucking you against the door.

He brought his head closer to where you needed him, his lips hovering by the skin there for a moment. “How bad do you want me to touch you, baby?”

“So fucking bad, Rafe. Please,” you begged, running a hand over his short hair again. “Please.”

He leaned so that his cheek was resting on your hip, and he let out a low exhale, his breath warm and hot against your skin. “I’m gonna take my time with you,” he murmured, and then his lips were on your skin again, leaving kisses down your hip, towards your center.

It was like he’d suddenly lost all self-control, his need to touch you, to taste you, was so strong that it was pushing him past that edge of self-restraint. He pressed his lips against your core from over your lace panties, his tongue immediately tasting you through the fabric, and he let out a low moan.

“Fuck, you taste good.” He spoke directly against you, his voice gravelly and thick with lust, before slowly hooking his fingers under the lace of your underwear and pulling them down, needing to get them off you so that he could taste you properly.

Rafe’s hands were suddenly firm on your hip as he pushed your legs apart, keeping you open for him to put his mouth on you, his tongue licking and exploring. He was relentless, actions desperate. He felt the way you trembled under his touch, and he knew that he wasn’t going to be able to hold back for very long, not if he kept hearing those little sounds you were making.

You moaned loudly, eyes rolling back in pleasure and head titling back against his bedroom door. “Fuck! Feels so good, oh my god!”

Rafe loved the way you sounded, the way you reacted to him as he continued to suck on and lick at your clit. But he needed more. He pressed his hands against your hips as he continued with his attention, his tongue more demanding now. He was addicted to the taste of you, not wanting to ever touch another woman nor that he’s had you.

He continued his actions on your clit, finding what made you shiver and moan, what made you melt. He didn’t think he’d ever get enough of the sounds you made as he worked you with his mouth, pushing you higher and higher.

Rafe suddenly shifted, his tongue switching to a different angle. He could feel you shaking, getting closer and closer to the edge. He didn’t let up, his hands having moved to your thighs, keeping your legs open as he pressed himself closer, his tongue never slowing down, never stopping.

“Fuck!” you sobbed, the pleasure almost too much but so fucking good. “Please don’t stop, please don’t stop. Feels so fucking good.”

Rafe couldn’t possibly stop now, not when you sounded like that, not when you were so close. He could feel how your body was tightening, almost trembling as you got closer. He was so caught up in your sounds, in your taste. He kept his movements at the same speed, not wanting to change anything, and then you were there, falling over the edge. Your legs shook as you came, crying out his name as he lapped you up greedily, still wanting more after tasting you.

Only when you were starting to come down did he stop. Rafe slowly stood up, his mouth still wet and glistening, and looked at you, at the way you were leaning against the door and trying to get your breath back.

You immediately leaned forward to kiss Rafe, your lips meeting his instantly. He felt you melt against his body, and his arms encircled your waist, kissing you almost desperately, like he was starving and you were the only thing that could possibly satisfy him.

Rafe grabbed the back of your thighs and wrapped them around his waist, picking you up and moving you over to his bed, lightly dropping you onto the mattress before crawling over you. He loomed over you on the bed, his hands on either side of you. He could feel how you were looking at him, your eyes raking over his bare chest and the bulge in his pants, almost like you couldn't decide where to look first. It was driving him crazy. He felt like his skin was on fire, and he needed you to touch him, wanted to feel your hands on him.

“Please fuck me,” you quietly begged, looking up at him through your lashes. He leaned back, hands moving to his belt as he unbuckled it before sliding it through the loops of his jeans, taking them and his underwear off next.

“Yeah?” he asked breathlessly, raising an eyebrow. “You want that?” He looked down at you hungrily, his eyes taking in the way you looked beneath him. He suddenly grabbed your wrists and pinned them to either side of your head, trapping you beneath him. “You gonna be good for me if I give you that?” he whispered, his voice low and gravelly.

You nodded, silently pleading, begging, Rafe. You were soaked, and not just from when he ate you out moments prior. There was something about hearing him say those words, something about the way his voice sounded, so sweet and dominating, that made pleasure burn through you, making you want him even more.

He gently, almost reverently, released your wrists, his hands roaming over your body instead. “Good girl,” he murmured, voice rough. “That’s my good girl.”

Your hands lifted to rest on his bare back as Rafe smirked, reaching down and lining himself up before pushing forward into your sopping wet pussy. Your eyebrows furrowed together in pleasure, having him fill you to the brim.

"Oh, my god…” Rafe was hypnotised, his fingers grabbing at your hips. He could barely think, his mouth hanging open as his eyes glazed over.

The feeling of you beneath him, around him, was so intense he had to pause for a moment to collect himself. He felt like he was on fire, his body tense, his muscles coiled tight as he held himself above you. He couldn’t remember ever feeling this way, this intense, this desperate. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself before he started to move, his hips rocking against yours, eyes locked on your face.

He could feel your hands on his back, your nails clawing at his skin, and it only turned him on more. “That feel good, baby?” Rafe asked, voice strained with how good you felt.

“S-So good,” you nodded, tears building up in your eyes once again from the pleasure. “So deep.”

“Fuck,” Rafe moaned deeply, eyes squeezing shut for a moment. Your lips parted as his hips slapped against the backs of your thighs. It left you feeling dumb, no thoughts left in your head apart from how pretty Rafe looked above you. “Pussy’s so good.

“Please, please, please,” you begged, tilting your head back to look up at him. His own lips parted as he reached his hands up, his thumbs brushing over your nipples as he stared as your tits in awe. “Just like that — keep fucking me like that.”

Rafe could feel every little gasp, every moan, every whimper you made, and it was driving him crazy. You were making him feel things he didn’t know he could feel, and he was lost in you. He could feel himself getting closer and closer to the edge, could feel himself losing control, and he knew he couldn’t hold back for much longer.

He suddenly leaned down, his face just inches away from yours, and pressed his forehead against yours. He was breathing heavy, his breath mingling with yours, his heart racing. He was hanging on by a thread, fighting the urge to let go, but he wanted to see you fall apart for him first.

Rafe suddenly slid his hand down your body, his thumb finding your clit and quickly rubbing it. You moaned loudly, nails scratching down his back and leaving red marks in their wake.

“F-fuck!” you cried, the pleasure consuming you. Rafe sped up, going harder and rougher, his own hand coming up to wrap around your neck, adding a little pressure — just the way you liked it. He loved the sound of your voice, the way it changed as he touched you, the way it got higher and more desperate as you got closer to the edge.

He couldn’t hold back a low moan of his own, keeping his hand on your neck as he sent harsh thrusts up into you, your pussy squelching with each one.

“That’s it,” he rasped. “Let me hear how good you feel.” He suddenly grabbed your hip, using it as leverage as he started to move rougher, his body tensing up. He was so close, so close to losing control, but he wasn’t ready for it to be over yet. He suddenly leaned down again, his mouth right next to your ear, his voice a low, gravelly whisper. “Cum for me, baby.”

“O-Oh, my God!” you moaned loudly, barely able to say anything other than that and his name.

He knew you were close, could feel it in your body, and he felt his own body tense up in response. ”That’s it, Sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice thick and low. “That’s it. Let go for me.”

“Rafe!” you screamed his name as you came, legs shaking around his waist with your head thrown back against his bed. He felt you tighten around him, felt your nails digging into his skin, and he couldn’t hold back anymore.

“Gonna cum so fuckin' deep in you,” Rafe mumbled, letting go of your neck and running purely on primal instincts now. “Gonna take it all like my good girl, yeah?”

“Uh huh," you whined, tits bouncing as he continued to fuck himself deeper into you. “Please cum in me!”

“Prettier than any fucking star.” Rafe grabbed ahold of your hips, grinding his hips deep into yours a few more times, before coming to a stop. He came hard, his body tensing up as he buried his face into your neck, his breath coming out in ragged gasps as he rode out his orgasm.

You felt full as his cum filled you up, letting out a hum of content. Rafe couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything but lay there, his body weighing you down, face pressed into your neck. He was breathing heavily, his body still shaking from the intensity of his release, and he couldn’t remember ever feeling this good, this wrecked, this satisfied.

He suddenly lifted his head up, eyes locking on yours immediately, his face flushed. “You… are amazing.”

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