#the more I’m processing it and it’s kinda sinking in

[thesewordsareallihavetogive]

Yell at Me - Dr. Jack Abbot x resident!reader

Summary: 2.7k words. You never expected your attending to suddenly end your years-long secret fling without warning. Now you’re both dealing with the fallout.

Warnings: 18+ content. No explicit smut, but mdni anyway please. Age gap. Lots of colorful language lmao. Angst, angst, and more angst. Miscommunication (I hate it). Yearning. Trust the process and stick around to the end pls

a/n: I was listening to “undressed” by sombr in the shower last night and the lyrics “I don't want the children of another man / To have the eyes of the girl I won't forget” are now imprinted in my brain. I wrote this during the commercial breaks of last night’s episode of Love Island USA and this morning. Enjoy!

Master list | Divider credit!

The Pitt feels sterile and cold at this time of night. It’s slow. Quiet, even. But no one dares to utter the words. Not even Doctor Shen—not after the absolute reaming Doctor Ellis dealt him once the Pitt Fest dust settled. There’s enough action to keep you from falling asleep, but there’s enough lulls to allow you time to talk with your coworkers while you wait for imaging and lab results to come back for your patients.

Even on nights like tonight, Doctor Abbot doesn’t join in on the drama. But, he hears bits and pieces of the hospital’s gossip in passing. He’s not intentionally eavesdropping in the clean utility room, but he could pick your voice out in the loudest crowd and spot your face in any room. The L-shape of the closet prevents you from noticing him quietly gathering supplies while you gossip at a low volume with another resident at the other end, hidden from view.

“We’ve gone on a couple dates,” you admit to your fellow R4. Abbot can hear the smile in your voice and it makes him pause. After working in trauma medicine for years, he has a stomach of steel. But the insinuation of your admission makes him queasy.

He didn’t have any right to feel any type of way—he knew that.  You were never exclusive, it’s been months since you fooled around together, and he was the one who ended things. But it still hurt.

Abbot recognizes the other R4’s voice as Doctor Ellis. Your next words hit him like a sucker punch in the gut. He swallows heavily around the lump in his throat. He knows he should stop listening, should leave, but he can't move from where his feet are planted.

“I don’t know!” you say giddily when Ellis asks you if it’s anything serious. “I’m honestly not sure if I like him that much. Maybe he’ll grow on me. A slow-burn, if you will.” Ellis deadpans at that. You’ve been seeing this guy for a month and haven’t progressed beyond I think he’s kinda cute ish.

It didn’t compare even slightly to the feverish passion you felt for Abbot. Not that Ellis knew that. Nobody knew about your… situation. Whatever odd iteration of a relationship you shared with Jack existed beyond the bounds of a definition or term besides “it’s complicated.” Moreover, not that your feelings for your attending mattered. He’d never want you like that, he’d made that very clear the same night you were about to open up about your true feelings for him.

It was like Abbot could sense a shift in the air that night. Like he could feel your heart beating just for him.

“I don’t think we should do this anymore.” The words left his mouth simply and short. It sounded smooth, a sharp contrast from the grating feeling clawing up his throat. Abbot couldn’t meet your eyes when he said it.

You pulled his bed sheet to cover your exposed chest. He spent that night—and countless other nights—leaving his mark on hidden parts of you, worshipping your breasts like they were the only altar he believed in.

“What?” you asked, lips parted in shock. Your post orgasmic haze was abruptly broken as a sinking feeling settled in your chest. Certainly you must’ve heard him wrong, you thought. You hoped.

But he doubled down. He repeated his words. This time, he willed himself to meet your eyes. His face was stoney, like he’d already detached and distanced himself. Jack was a horrible liar, but he was putting on an Oscar-worthy performance.

You didn’t argue. You didn’t fight or press for any more details. You just nodded around the lump in your throat.

You got out of his bed, taking the sheet with you, wrapped around your vulnerable frame. You couldn’t bear for him to see you naked, bare just for him, ever again.

The clothes you wore over to his apartment with the sole intention of him peeling them off your body were scattered across his bedroom floor. Your leggings, his t-shirt, his hoodie. You pulled the leggings on slowly and didn’t rush. You had to move slowly to prevent the tears weighing on your lower lashes from pouring down your face. Maybe it was pride, or spite, or hurt, or maybe all three, but you refused to let him see you cry.

You let your eyes drift around Jack’s room. You’d spent dozens of nights there in his arms, in his shower, on his counters and couch and lap, but you knew then it was the last time you’d ever see his bedroom. You’re not sure why you did it, one last thorough scan of the room, committing it as a masochistic memory.

Abbot watched you silently. He had since pulled on his own sweatpants, remaining shirtless. Even then, you couldn’t resist him. The attending had just rejected you in the cruelest way possible, and you still couldn’t steal your eyes from his defined chest.

You left his clothes on the floor and padded over to his dresser, the one he’d cleaned out a drawer for you in. You pulled on a dark shirt, thinking that maybe the fabric would hide the heavy tears you knew you’d shed on the drive home, and grabbed the rest of your belongings from the drawer. Whatever you couldn’t carry in your arms, you cut as a loss.

“Goodbye, Doctor Abbot,” you said in his hallway outside the door, bordering on apathetic. You didn’t have the energy to say it through gritted teeth.

‘Doctor Abbot’ was reserved for the Pitt. You never called him by his professional title outside of work, and you hadn’t for a while. You were respectful and professional at the hospital, but at home? In his bed? He was Jack to you.

Now, you looked at him like he was about to be no one to you.

You stood just beyond the threshold, another one you knew you’d never cross again. Jack had the decency to walk you to the door, even though it killed him to do so. When his eyes finally met your face, he saw the tears you couldn’t hold back, heavy in your eyes but not yet spilled. He saw how you bit your lip to keep it from trembling.

You left without ceremony. Jack stood in his open doorway for a while, watching your form retreat until you turned the corner and were gone from his view. He could hear blood rushing in his ears and he became acutely aware of his involuntary, erratic inhales and shaky exhales. The sobs wracked your body the second your car door was shut. It probably wasn’t safe for you to drive home with tears blurring your vision and your rib cage on the verge of cracking open, but you had little regard for anything in that moment.

Hours later, you laid in your bed staring at the ceiling. A world apart, Abbot was doing the same in his apartment that felt cold without you in it.

The next shift, you put anything Jack had left at your apartment over the past couple of years; hoodies, sweatpants, socks and underwear that you wore more often than he did in his locker. Part of him wanted you to keep it all. He liked knowing that your soft skin was wrapped up in his clothes. But you couldn’t bear to look at them, much less wear any of it, knowing how he tossed you aside after years together, albeit in secret.

None of it mattered now.

Doctor Abbot is roughly pulled back to the present when your next words stop him cold.

“But he seems like good Dad material,” you shrug and Ellis raises her eyebrows. You’re a woman of science, so you know your eggs aren’t drying up anytime soon, but that doesn’t mean you don’t still feel the pressure to think about the future, to family plan. Jack hears ringing in his ears, like he’s back overseas again and he’s narrowly escaped an explosion.

You had talked about what you wanted in the future in between pillow talk with Jack. A white picket fence, two or three kids, and an SUV, but definitely not a minivan. But it was always hypothetical, or so he thought. Jack didn’t know about the locked list in your notes app; he didn’t know that “Jack” was listed as one of the names under the “baby names for boys” heading. The goals you shared with him softly in bed were always maybes, none of which specifically included Jack.

But now? The mere thought of another man’s children with your eyes? The ones that haunted him for months—every time he closed his eyes or met your gaze from across the room in a trauma bay—that he was sure he’d never forget? It made him sick in a way he hadn’t felt since that night months ago.

Abbot didn’t realize how tight his white knuckle grip was until the saline flush’s wrapper popped in his hand from the pressure.

He doesn’t pause for any time to think, he just acts, as if on instinct.

He rounds the corner with purpose, making you blush as you realize he’d probably heard at least part of your conversation.

“Would you excuse us please, I need to show Doctor YLN something.” He grabs your hand and pulls you away from the conversation, not waiting for Doctor Ellis’s response. He’s tugging you in the opposite direction of patient rooms, moving so swiftly through the hallways that you struggle to get your bearings.

“Jack, what- Doctor Abbot, I mean, where are we going?” you ask flustered, startled by his interruption and sudden behavior.

Your question is answered when he tests the door handle of an on-call room, just beyond any areas of regular foot traffic, before ushering you both inside. The resolute click of the door’s lock sounds like a bullet echoing in the empty room.

“What the hell are you doing?” You’re beyond confused. It dawns on you that this is the first time you and Abbot have been alone since he kicked you out in the middle of the night with no remorse.

“Don’t go out with him.” Jack’s jaw is set tight and his chest moves unsteady as he looks, no, stares into your soul.

“What?”

“Don’t go out on a date with him.” The command sounds like a plea. Jack spits the word him with vitriol, though it’s not directed at you.

“Jack-” you start, but Abbot interrupts you by saying your name. Any edge in his tone is gone. He realizes it’s the first time he’s been able to call you by your first name in months.

“Please.” He’s begging. The motherfucker actually has the audacity to beg you to do anything, as if he wasn’t the one that threw you out like trash.

“No.” Your face set seriously, hardening and bordering on cold, only held back by the white hot rage you felt. You had slowly started to patch up your broken heart in past few months and Jack was dangerously close to undoing all that work.

“You made it incredibly clear that you don’t want any future with me, so you don’t get to be upset, or feel anything when I move on. When I try to have a life outside of this hospital.” You poke his firm chest and quickly recoil at the spark you feel when you come in contact with him for the first time in too long.

It’s fair. Jack knows that.

You’re upset and it’s manifesting in anger. Anger that Abbot deserves to have unleashed upon him. It’s long overdue. You never really got to hash it out—you just went straight to clocking in for your shifts, ignoring the energy drinks he left in your locker as a pathetic peace offering and promptly throwing them in the garbage until Doctor Abbot had spent well over a hundred dollars on your preferred caffeine, and only speaking to him when absolutely necessary.

Doctor Abbot’s face twists like he’s in pain. His jaw moves like he’s fighting the words falling from his lips.

“I still care about you,” he admits lowly. You scoff.

“That’s fucking rich.” Laughter bubbles past your lips, but there’s no humor in it. Behind the locked on-call room door, any semblance of professionalism is gone. Abbot doesn’t dare reprimand you for your colorful language.

But he’s only human, and your reaction gets a rise out of him.

“You think I wanted to end… this?” Abbot is exasperated and waves a head between your tense bodies, tight with frustration. He comes up short for a term to describe the relationship that evaded labels.

Another scoff.

“Well, you explicitly told me you didn’t want me anymore while I was naked in your fucking bed, so yeah, I’d say you absolutely wanted to end our… situation,” you spit, also struggling to define your years-long arrangement with your attending.

The heels of Jack’s palms are pressed against his tightly shut eyes, like he’s trying to will away a migraine or Myrna. He mumbles something you can’t hear. You’ve long since run out of patience and grace, not that you had much in the first place.

“Spit it out, Jack. I’ve got patients to see. I don’t have time for your fucking mumbling.” A rage burns in you that Abbot has never witnessed, much less been on the receiving end of.

Maybe you’re just being mean now, but maybe you just don’t care. The love you had for Jack never really left. It just… atrophied. Then turned bitter and black and blue, like a bruise that never goes away.

Abbot punched the damn bruise.

“I did it to protect you!” Abbot shouts, no longer caring whether or not the four walls are soundproof. His graying curls are tousled and he’s got a wild look in his eyes. His heart is damn near beating out of his chest. Jack feels like a powder keg and you’re standing over him with a tank of gasoline and a lighter.

Your eyes narrow. Now he’s really pissing you off.

“Protect me?” you seethe. “When the hell did I ever ask you to do that?” Your hands are flying wildly as you talk. You’re glad the on-call rooms don’t have windows.

Abbot presses his lips into a thin line. You didn’t ask. You never asked for anything, always giving to others until you didn’t have anything left for yourself. But Jack wanted to give you the world.

He admires how hardworking you are. You outpace everyone in your cohort by far, but Doctor Abbot knew if anyone found out about your relationship they’d just assumed you slept your way through residency. But that couldn’t be further from the truth. Abbot is harder on you than any of the other students because he knows how much potential you hold. Hell, there were some days he thought you were a better doctor than him. Nobody gets to be the top candidate for the newest junior attending position without working their ass off.

He made the decision to break things off—to save your career—so you wouldn’t have to.

He cut it off, and broke both of your hearts in the process, so that you could focus on your career and secure your well-earned spot as a junior attending. Without distractions. Without Jack.

Abbot’s mind is going a million miles an hour. He doesn’t realize all his racing thoughts had spilled out loud until he looks at you.

Silent. Dumbfounded. Still.

Your hands rest by your side, tense. Like they don’t know what to do if they’re not waving through the air, your anger and passion directed at your current mentor, former lover, and eternal pain in your ass.

The silence breaks when both of your pagers beep simultaneously. An incoming trauma alert is announced over the hospital’s PA system.

There was still a sharpness to you, but some of it had softened around the edges. The fire in your eyes when Jack held your stare with his was less of a glare now.

“We are not done talking. You are going to buy me breakfast and we’re going to talk this out like fucking adults, Jack,” you point at him with squinted eyes before turning on your heel. You don’t hold the door open for the attending, but you let it swing wide enough so that it won’t hit him on his way out.

“Yes, Doctor.” Abbot agrees, following your lead back into the belly of the Pitt. He places his palm on the small of your back on instinct. When you don’t pull away, Jack feels hopeful for the first time in months.

a/n: blah blah blah then they have nasty explosive amazing makeup sex. The end.

edit: here's part 2! Call Out My Name

REBLOGS AND COMMENTS ARE APPRECIATED!

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[rafecameronssl4t]

IM BEGGING FOR MORE FRATBOY!RAFE CAMERON PLEASEEEE💔

Trap Queen || Frat boy!Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

A/n: hehehe missed writing frat boy!rafe also had no idea what to title this so I thought this song kinda matched idk

Warnings: mentions of sex, idk if there’s anything else

Word count: 2,042

MASTERLIST (frat boy!rafe x reader au masterlist)

“I have no idea what her problem is with me,” you mutter under your breath, your eyes flicking toward Jada, who’s glaring at you like she’d love nothing more than to see you vanish. Her gaze lingers, intense and filled with something close to hatred.

You turn back to Rafe, irritation bubbling up as you try to make sense of the tension hanging in the air. Rafe glances over lazily, his eyes briefly scanning Jada before he scoffs, almost amused by the situation. He leans back casually, grabbing a handful of popcorn from the bowl between you and tossing it into his mouth without a second thought.

“Probably ‘cause she was trying to get into my pants before we started dating,” he mumbles through a mouthful, barely caring to mask the indifference in his voice. Your body stiffens, eyes widening as you process what he just said. “Are you serious?” you snap, crossing your arms and staring at him, bewildered.

“And you didn’t think I should know this?” Rafe slows his chewing, his brow arching slightly as he swallows. His reaction is calm, almost too calm.“Didn’t think it was worth mentioning. She’s irrelevant babe,” he shrugs, his voice annoyingly nonchalant. “I don’t give a fuck about her.”

You turn to look at Jada again, and this time she isn’t even pretending to hide the jealousy etched across her face. She’s whispering furiously to her best friend, the sorority president, her eyes flicking between you and Rafe with an almost desperate need for attention. The way her eyes follow Rafe, hungry and spiteful, makes the knot in your stomach tighten.

She’s clearly still bitter, and her gaze shifts between you and Rafe like she’s daring you to flaunt what she can’t have. It’s more than just resentment—it’s envy, glaringly obvious, and you can feel her simmering frustration from across the room. Frustration swells inside you, and without thinking, you reach for Rafe’s hand, gripping it firmly.

“Let’s get out of here,” you murmur, not wanting to feed into Jada’s petty game, but unable to shake the discomfort gnawing at you. Before Rafe can say anything, you grab his hand, pulling him up from the couch. His surprise shows for a second, but he follows your lead, letting you drag him away.

~

“Fuck off,” Rafe growls at the sound of a knock on his door, still half-asleep and annoyed as he shifts under the blankets. His arm gently moves you off him, and you let out a soft whine, instantly missing the warmth and security of his body pressed against yours. He sighs as the knocking persists, louder this time, more insistent.

“I’m coming!” he yells, frustration evident in his tone as he clumsily pulls his boxers up his legs, running a hand through his disheveled hair. He’s barely awake, his movements sluggish, but the incessant knocking has him on edge. Just as Rafe reaches for the door, he pauses, his hand hovering over the knob.

A frown crosses his face. It wouldn’t be any of his frat brothers—they’d all gone home for the long weekend. Suspicion sharpens his senses, and he leans toward the peephole, squinting as he peers through it. His gut twists the moment he sees who’s on the other side, Alice, your sorority president, and Jada.

“Shit,” he mutters, backing away from the door. He hurries back to the bed, his hand reaching for your shoulder as he shakes you gently. “Babe, hey. Wake up,” he whispers urgently, trying to keep calm as you groan, still half-lost in sleep. “Jada and Alice are outside,” he says, his voice low but urgent.

The words barely sink in before you’re wide awake, panic flooding your system. “What?” you whisper, your voice strained with disbelief as you sit up, your heart racing. In an instant, you’re scrambling to grab your clothes, your mind spinning. “What are they doing here?” you hiss, pulling your jeans up your legs in a rush.

Your fingers fumble as you try to fasten them, your breath quickening with every second. Rafe’s hands are already on your back, tying up the straps of your top with quick, precise movements. “Fucked if I know,” he mutters, glancing toward the door. The knocking continues, sharper and more demanding this time, as Jada’s voice echoes through the room.“Rafe, open up! We know you’re in there!”

Jada calls out, her tone laced with impatience, as if she’s holding some kind of authority over him.“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath, cursing the situation. The last thing you need is Jada and Alice catching you here—especially like this. Your mind races with the possibilities of why they’ve shown up now, of all times. Rafe turns to you, his hands resting on your arms as he tries to steady you.

His eyes are calm but serious. “Just hide in the bathroom. I’ll deal with them,” he says firmly, his voice low and reassuring despite the situation. You nod, heart pounding in your chest, and quickly dart toward the bathroom, quietly closing the door behind you. Locking it, you press your ear to the wood, your breath held as you strain to hear what’s happening.

You hear Rafe sigh heavily before he opens the door, his voice low and tense as he greets Jada and Alice. The muffled sound of their conversation seeps through the door, but it’s hard to make out the words clearly. Your stomach twists as you wait, hoping that whatever they want, Rafe can get rid of them without making things worse.

Rafe opens the door just enough to stand in the doorway, leaning against the frame with a bored, unimpressed look on his face. He eyes Jada and Alice, his expression indifferent as he sizes them up. “Can I help you?” he asks dryly, making it clear from the start that he has no interest in whatever they’re about to say.

Jada and Alice exchange a quick glance, their irritation barely hidden beneath thin smiles. Alice, with her usual fake sweetness, steps forward, her voice dripping with insincerity. “Is Y/n here by any chance?” she asks, flashing Rafe the overly saccharine smile she gives to everyone. He sees right through it—he knows exactly how two-faced she really is.

Rafe lets out a short, amused snort, crossing his arms. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” he replies with a smirk, clearly enjoying himself. Jada opens her mouth to say something, but he cuts her off before she can get a word in. “No, she’s not here. Why do you even care?” He raises an eyebrow, his voice sharp with challenge.

Alice, not backing down, continues with the same fake concern. “She wasn’t in her room while we were doing our rounds last night, and her roommate said she never came back,” she explains, though her tone lacks genuine worry. Rafe can barely stop himself from rolling his eyes. It’s clear they’re just fishing for information, and their excuse is weak at best.

“What, you have curfews on a Friday night?” Rafe deadpans, his tone dripping with sarcasm. He watches as the annoyance flickers across their faces, and he takes pleasure in knowing he’s getting under their skin. Alice forces a tight-lipped smile, her patience clearly wearing thin.

“Yeah, to make sure everyone is home safe and sound,” she says, her voice still maintaining that fake sweetness, though Rafe can hear the underlying frustration. “Right, sure,” Rafe mutters, clearly not buying it. He shifts his weight and straightens up, his disinterest obvious. “Well, like I said, she’s not here,” he says flatly.

The two girls stand in tense silence for a moment. Rafe can see a flicker of something—perhaps jealousy or frustration—behind Jada’s eyes, and it intrigues him. He watches as Alice turns, clearly ready to leave this awkward encounter behind, but Jada’s sudden outburst catches her off guard.

“What do you even see in her, anyway?” Her sudden outburst catches Alice by surprise, and she glances back at Jada with wide eyes. Rafe raises an eyebrow, genuinely surprised by her boldness. “Jada, let’s just go. She’s not here,” Alice mutters, her hand gently squeezing Jada’s arm, as if trying to ground her. Rafe can’t resist interjecting. “Yeah, Jada. She’s not here,” he mocks, a smirk playing on his lips as he leans casually against the doorframe.

Rafe’s disdain for Jada is palpable, and he relishes the chance to get under her skin. The flush of anger spreads quickly across her cheeks, her fists clenching at her sides as if holding back an explosion of frustration. The heat radiates off her in waves, her glare sharp and unyielding, her eyes narrowing with contempt.

“You think you’re so clever, don’t you?” she snaps, her voice bitter, teetering on the edge of desperation. Her gaze burns into him, full of resentment. “You think you can just parade around with her like she’s some prize to be won. What makes her so special?”

Rafe meets her gaze head-on, completely unfazed. He tilts his head slightly, the corner of his mouth lifting into a smirk. “Why are you so obsessed with my fucking girlfriend, Jada?” His voice cuts through the tension like a blade, catching her off guard for just a second. She falters, her posture stiffening at the unexpected challenge.

“This is clearly between you and me, so leave Y/n out of it,” Rafe continues, his tone sharp and unwavering. He steps closer, his expression darkening with warning. “You got a problem with me? Fine. But don’t drag her into whatever this is.”Jada’s eyes flash with frustration, her lips tightening as she struggles to maintain her composure.

She clearly wasn’t expecting Rafe to call her out so directly, and the protectiveness in his voice stings more than she wants to admit. “You think you can just blow me off like I’m nothing?” she hisses, her voice trembling slightly. “I see how you look at her, how you act like she’s so perfect, like she’s better than everyone else.” There’s a bitterness in her words, a jealousy she’s no longer able to hide.

Rafe raises an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “If you think this is about anything more than your own jealousy, you’re delusional,” he says bluntly. His tone is calm, almost amused, as if he’s thoroughly enjoying watching her squirm. “If you’ve got some fantasy that I ever wanted anything to do with you, that’s on you, not me.”

“Get over yourself. I don’t want you, and I never fucking did,” Jada opens her mouth, clearly intending to argue, but no words come out. For a moment, she’s frozen, her face a mixture of shock and hurt, as if she never expected him to be so blunt. The silence stretches, heavy and uncomfortable. Rafe leans back against the doorframe, crossing his arms with a lazy air of indifference. He knows he’s won.

“Why don’t you take your little jealousy trip somewhere else?” he says with a bored tone, as if she were nothing more than a minor inconvenience. His words only fuel her fury, but he doesn’t care—he’s already dismissed her in his mind. Jada’s fists tremble at her sides, her frustration bubbling just beneath the surface.

She glares at him one last time before spinning on her heel and storming off, her heels clicking angrily against the floor. Alice glances at Rafe for a moment, but she’s smart enough not to say anything. She shoots Rafe a scowl that could cut through steel, her frustration evident. “Leave Y/n alone. Don’t test me,” Rafe warns, his tone lowering to a menacing growl.

There’s no way he’ll allow them to interfere in your life, not when they’re so clearly motivated by envy. Alice opens her mouth, a retort on the tip of her tongue, but she hesitates, measuring the threat in his eyes. After a moment, she seems to reconsider, her expression darkening with resignation. With a heavy sigh, she shakes her head and turns on her heel, hastily following Jada down the hallway. Rafe watches them go, a sense of satisfaction washing over him.

[kerosenee-kisses]

Summer Loving | Caleb LADS

summary: Summer has just begun and Caleb is finally home on break from the Aerospace Academy! Too bad you can't stay in the same room as him for fear of jumping his bones. cw: 18+, MDNI, fem!reader, Oral Sex (giving/receiving), Vaginal Sex, Fingering, Spitting, Nipple Play, kinda rough sex (idk? adding it just in case. Caleb is just eager imo), Overstimulation, Caleb puts reader through the ringer (and the mattress) tbh a/n: I tried soooooo hard to finish this in time for Caleb's birthday but it kept getting longer and longer. He is just too sexy omg, the ideas kept coming (kinda like reader in this fic lmao). Better late than never, though. Anyway, thank you for reading!! Blowing you a kiss, hope you enjoy :) Banners by the one and only @cafekitsune wc: 6.7k (jesus fucking christ)

Summer, the season most beloved by you. With it comes beach days, sun tans, ice cream, and apparently... 

“Caleb! Get out of there already! Are you kidding me?” 

A heat-induced demon of rage. 

You kick at the bathroom door as you growl for him to make his long-awaited exit. Caleb turns up the volume on his speaker in response. 

Ever since Caleb came home on break from the Aerospace Academy, he has been breakdancing on your last nerve. Sure, he still dotes on you like always. But the time spent apart while he was away in Skyhaven has made him even more unyielding in his quest to tick you off. 

Maybe it’s a Caleb-induced demon after all. 

“You know what? I won’t break the door down. I’m a lady,” you shout over the music. “But just know when I get in there, I’m gonna kick. Your. Ass. Count your days!” 

You stomp off to your room and rummage through your desk drawer until you find a pair of scissors. You practically sprint back to the bathroom so you can jam one blade between the door and its frame until the lock clicks softly.               

Steam envelopes you once you push the door open. You can hardly see ahead of you, let alone make your way to the only working toilet in the house. The thought alone is enough to seduce your heat-demon into coming out to play. You manage to appease her by powering off Caleb’s speaker, perched on the jack and jill sink. 

“Hey Pipsqueak. I’m totally done in the bathroom unless my still being in the shower made that less than obvious. Feel free to come right in,” he says from the confines of the fog-covered glass shower. 

“Oh, you better be done in here, Selfish. You have no reason to shower this long.” 

You thank every higher power when you make it to the toilet in time. The relief you feel makes you all the more furious with Caleb. He’s not allowed to hog the bathroom when you clearly need it more than he does. Seriously, what could he have been doing for the past forty-five minutes? 

You’ve only just finished when the water from the shower cuts off. Dread plummets into your stomach when the door pops open and Caleb reaches for his towel. He steps out a moment later, the same white, fluffy towel wrapped around his trim waist. His skin, flushed from the heat of the shower, is freckled with droplets of water. 

You and Caleb are close. You’ve been through so much together that it would be impossible not to be. Normally sharing the bathroom with him wouldn’t be such a huge deal. But something about having him back after so long... You’re seeing everything about him with the focus of a space observatory locked onto a new galaxy.

For starters, he’s buff now. 

He was in good enough shape before enrolling in the academy but now his muscles are honed to a degree that is both absurd and unfair. You can barely look at his bare arms without your face erupting with heat. Which is why seeing him now, nearly naked save for that damned towel, is just enough to ruin your cognitive processing. 

“You break into the bathroom while I’m still in it and you’re the one who looks scared?” Caleb leans into your space, head cocked slightly. “How does that work?” 

You feel faint; clearly, you didn’t think things through. Caleb seems to have come to a similar conclusion. He laughs as he retreats to the dual sinks at the opposite end of the bathroom. 

“Don’t worry, I won’t peek,” he says. Your heart nearly tumbles off your tongue. 

You hurriedly gather a handful of toilet paper, which only makes him laugh louder. Once you’ve pulled your sleep shorts back into place, you make your way to the sink beside Caleb. You adjust the faucet until the water runs warm and wash your hands. 

“Me and Gideon are gonna play some basketball in the park if you want to tag along,” Caleb says as he squeezes toothpaste onto his toothbrush. 

“Pass. I’m meeting up with the girls at the mall.” 

“I knew you’d come up with a reason not to go.” 

“It’s not an excuse; we’ve had this planned for days. Besides, I don’t want–” 

You make the mistake of glancing at him mid-sentence. It’s impossible to save face when he crosses one arm across his chest while he brushes his teeth. All the muscles in his biceps, his pecs, bunch and shift so enticingly that you clench your jaw hard. 

Caleb spits some toothpaste out, and you unfortunately pay too much attention to the foam clinging to his mouth. Even the sound of him spitting is doing strange things to you. 

“My eyes are up here, you know.” 

Your gaze snaps back to his and your heart stutters in its rhythm. His eyes twinkle with amusement to your absolute horror.

“You were saying, ‘I don’t want...” 

I don’t want to keep lusting after you like this. “I-I don’t want to spend the day melting at the park. The mall is air-conditioned at least.” 

“Aww, too cool to hang with your gege now?” 

“Shut up.” You roll your eyes and load up your own toothbrush with toothpaste. 

“I would but...I don’t know, I think you should make me.” 

“What?” 

“You did threaten to beat my ass when you got in here.” Caleb smiles at you playfully. “So go on, shut me up for good.” 

You groan long and low. “I’m brushing my teeth in the kitchen.” If you stay in here a second longer you might lick the rest of the foam off his mouth.

“Hey, don’t back down now. Come on, Pips!” 

“No, I’m leaving. I shouldn’t have barged in at all. But if I catch you in here ten minutes from now Caleb, I’ll make the Chronorift Catastrophe the second worst incident you’ve ever lived through.” 

His face sobers at once. At least he knows that you mean business. 

You pop your toothbrush into your mouth as you make your way down the hallway. 

“Hurry up!” you warn, words muffled by too much toothpaste. 

 The afternoon finds you, Tara, and Simone chilling at the food court, after some window shopping. Though it was a little less window and a lot more shopping, thanks to Caleb. He gave you some spending money (after clearing out of the bathroom in five minutes!) that you gladly spent on some cute outfits to survive the rest of the summer. Carrying such heavy bags around really is exhausting. You’re all enjoying cherry icees while you relax and catch up. Well, Simone and Tara are still enjoying their icees. Your extra-large cup was empty in five minutes. 

“So, is this emergency meeting about Caleb or...?” Tara asks.

“Yeah, what’s the deal with you two?” Simone adds. 

“He’s driving me insane,” you groan. “Everything he does is just, ugh! I can’t exist in the same space as him anymore.” 

Your friends have been on the receiving end of many a text complaining about the most innocuous things Caleb has been doing for the past week and a half. Making you braised chicken wings, touching up his models in the living room, changing your phone background to a picture of him, catching his breath after a morning run, brushing his teeth beside you. Being at home at all. Everything has been setting you off lately. It’s to the point that you don’t trust yourself to be alone with him. What if you do something embarrassing in front of him? He will never let you forget.  

You shudder at the thought. He has a lifetime of humiliating ammunition to wield against you, no need to give him anything more.

“Here’s an idea: why don’t you move into my room and I move into yours so I can deal with your Caleb issue for you,” Tara says. She and Simone burst out laughing, and they only get louder when they look at you again. 

“Don’t make that face! We’re just messing with you,” Simone giggles. 

“I’m not making a face,” you grumble. 

“You look like you just got sprayed by a Lemonette,” Tara deadpans. “Besides, I doubt I could even handle Caleb. One glance my way and I’d disintegrate!” 

“Same here. I really don’t know how you do it,” Simone adds. 

“I don’t! That’s why I’ve been avoiding him so much.” 

It’s hard to believe that only two weeks ago you could hardly wait for Caleb to come home. Now he plagues your every waking thought. And sleep offers no respite as he frequents your dreams as well. You’re ashamed to admit the number of mornings you woke up soaked with sweat and arousal from whatever sweet torture Dream Caleb subjected you to. 

"How about, instead of ignoring his very existence, you model some of the cute clothes you bought earlier,” Simone says. 

“I love that. You can do a little fashion show for him. I’m sure he’ll appreciate it,” Tara chimes in. 

“I am not doing that.” 

You want to make a very important distinction that trying on one (1) outfit for Caleb to see on you is NOT the same as a one-woman runway show. And this hardly counts as an outfit. You’re in a pair of pale green, terrycloth shorts that are a size too small. Sneaky Simone must have put back the actual size you wanted when you were trying things on earlier. You’re also wearing a cropped, white tank top with a fucking paper airplane on it, purchased at both Simone and Tara’s cheeky behest. 

You stand before the floor length mirror in your room, inspecting your reflection. Your butt looks great, even if it is peeking out just a little. And you’d probably buy the top anyway, even if Caleb wasn’t around to see you in it. 

Honestly, your outfit isn’t so different from what you’d normally wear in the summer, but something about them being purchased with Caleb in mind makes you nervous. You hate this feeling. You're about to change all together, but the front door opens and slams shut, announcing Caleb’s arrival. 

“Yo, Pipsqueak! You home yet?” His footfalls grow louder as he makes his way through the house. 

“I thought you could track my every move with that insane app you installed on both our phones.” 

You watch Caleb lean against your door frame and cross his arms through the mirror. A sheen of sweat covers his sun-tanned skin. And his hair sticks up in such a cute way. You want to reach up and push it back for him. 

No, stop thinking about his hair. You can’t afford to entertain such dangerous thoughts. Considering how you’ve been lately, you might yank him by those silky strands and kiss him instead.

“Yeah, I can. Buuuut it’s still nice to hear from the source.” 

“I’m safe at home as you can see. You don't have to keep treating me like a kid, you know?” 

“I’m not treating you like a kid.  Doesn’t matter when, how, or why. I’ll always want to make sure you’re safe and taken care of.” 

His tone is so serious that you turn to face him directly. The stress marring his features disappears almost instantly when your eyes meet. But his eyes dip, tracing you from head to toe. Your breath falters. Does he like what he sees? Or is he about to piss you off and force you to change? Last week when you wore a crop top and shorts to meet up with some friends he’d nearly locked you in your room.

Caleb clears his throat. “Anyway, Gran called. She’s working late tonight so we’ll have dinner without her.” 

“What are you thinking of making me?” 

“Mushroom stir fry.” 

You blink at him. Is he serious? “What can I do to convince you to make braised pork instead.” 

“Braised chicken wings. Braised pork. Something tells me you won’t let me leave before I’ve braised everything under the sun,” he says. “What’s next, braised luminivore? Braised spurtail?” 

“Don’t be stupid.” 

“You’re right. With your appetite, you’re gonna need to take down a whole wyrmlord.” 

You shoulder past him, hard. And your irritation mounts when his laughter all but chases you down the hallway. 

“Don’t be mad, I was only kidding,” he calls after you. 

You make yourself comfortable in the living area, taking your usual place at the center of the couch. You hope at the very least Caleb will hang out in his room for a second, maybe hit the shower after playing basketball well into the afternoon.  But it’s only natural that he would come join you here, especially considering how little you’ve seen each other these past few days. 

Caleb plops down to the left of you, arms stretched across the back of the couch. He leans his head back and observes you keenly. Your stomach ties itself in knots of irritation and intrigue. 

“What is it?” You ask. 

“Your muscles look more toned.” He rubs a hand down your bicep for emphasis, and your eyes nearly pop out of your head. “You definitely could have helped me out on the court today.” 

“Sorry my plans interfered with you reclaiming the title of ‘King of the Playground’.” 

“To make up for it, why not watch a movie with me.” 

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” 

“Come onnn, you already ditched me once today. And we’re sitting here anyway.” Caleb’s face falls a little when he asks. “Is it really so bad? Hanging out with me?” 

Guilt squeezes at your heart. You’ve been so busy trying to steer clear of him for your own sanity, you didn’t even consider his feelings in all this. 

“No, I love hanging out with you. You’re my favorite person in the world. I’m sorry if I’ve made you doubt that. I’m just...going through a lot right now.” 

“Is something wrong?” he asks, immediately concerned. 

“It’s nothing to worry about!” you say too quickly to be convincing. “Let’s see if there’s any good sci-fi movies on TV.” 

“It’s ok to rely on me sometimes, you know.” 

“I know,” you say as you sidle closer to him. “But I promise it’s nothing.” 

Caleb sighs and pulls you even closer. Your breath hitches; you’re practically glued to his side now. He’s so warm, so solid beside you. And the musky blend of sweat and oaky deodorant is difficult to ignore this close. You actively have to resist the urge to bury your face in his underarm to inhale his scent. 

You try to move away, but Caleb doesn’t let you budge, not while he inspects you carefully. It’s hard to breathe with his soft gaze flitting all over your face. After a few excruciating moments he raises his hands in defeat. 

“Alright, alright. If you say so,” he sighs. “Now hand me the remote.” 

You go to pass it to him, but you pull it completely from his grasp at the last second.

“No way!” You wag the remote in his face. “You chose the movie last time.” 

“That was months ago, and–” he snatches the remote from you with ease, “it doesn’t matter if it was my idea to watch a movie in the first place. Plus, I’m practically a guest here. You should be a lot nicer to me.” 

“What kind of guest cooks and cleans for their host?” 

“And does all the laundry. Don’t forget laundry.” He pauses as if in deep thought. “As it turns out, I do basically everything for you, huh?” 

No use arguing there. If you do, he’ll ‘threaten’ to stop doing all these chores for you. 

“You win, go ahead and pick something good please.” 

Leave it to Caleb to pick the most boring movie on the planet. While the space scenes are visually stunning, it’s a rare break from the overall monotony of the film. And you’ve barely made it through the first hour; you don’t know if you have another two in you. 

In fact, it’s so boring that you can’t even watch it to distract yourself from Caleb, who still has your rigid form pressed snug against his side. You feel like you’re about to explode from the frustration of being in his grasp, unable to reciprocate his affection without jumping on him. 

You need to relax. You’re sure he can feel your fragile heart galloping in your chest but has been kind enough not to mention it. 

With a sigh of defeat, you settle against him finally, rest your head on his shoulder. Focus on his breaths, in and out, in and out. The rhythm, slow and relaxed, is soothing to you. Exactly what you need. 

Your eyes flutter shut as your breath syncs with Caleb’s. He can’t distract you if you’re asleep. 

...But then again, he could reappear in your dreams. That would be more of a nightmare at this moment. 

“You tired pipsqueak?” Caleb asks against your temple. “You’re nice and cuddly like this. You remind me of a little shrimp.” 

“All these years I thought this movie would be more entertaining. You were always watching it.”  

“Sorry you’re not feeling it. What can I do to cure your boredom then?” He asks, humor in his tone.  

Your lips spread with a smile, but it falls away when you open your eyes again. His face is so close to yours, and you’re confronted with how beautiful he is. How much he’s changed since going off to the academy. Before you know it, your lips brush his in a slow, charged kiss. So soft that it makes the sudden flick between your eyebrows hurt that much more. 

“–Earth to Pipsqueak,” Caleb says, hand still poised at your forehead. “Ah, there she is! Where’d ya go just then?” 

You jump to the edge of the couch, your skin scalding. You’re horrified by how vivid your imagination is.

Caleb pauses the movie. He scrutinizes you, brows pinched and eyes brimming with pain. They pin you in place when you would much rather run and hide. 

“Remember how we promised not to keep any secrets from each other?” he asks quietly. 

“…Yeah, but why are you bringing it up now?” 

“Since we agreed not to have any secrets…be honest. Am I bothering you?” 

All the blood drains from your face. “Huh? No, of course not.” 

“Now that I think about it, you’ve been acting very strange lately. Jumpy and jittery anytime I’m around. What gives?” 

“Caleb, I really don’t want to talk about this.” 

“Look, you’ve gotta know by now that you can talk to me about anything. No matter how embarrassing or difficult. We don’t have to tiptoe around each other like we’re following an instruction manual. And I hate worrying about you. So please, just…rip the bandaid off.” 

“I have a crush on you!” You blurt out miserably. “That’s why I’ve been… like this. And it might be weird to you, but that’s how I feel.” 

“Seriously?” Caleb asks. He looks… delighted? You weren’t expecting that. 

“Seriously,” you say, a little more confidence in your voice. “But we can’t cross that line.” 

“You sure about that?” There’s a flirtatious lilt to his words that you can’t ignore to save your life. 

“Maybe the line was crossed the moment you thought about this.” Caleb moves back into your space, splays his hands on your rib cage. He pushes you gently onto the couch cushion until you lay flat before his kneeling figure. 

“Since the line has already been crossed… why not go all the way?” 

Caleb tugs the waistband of your shorts down slightly and presses a wet kiss to the skin right above the scalloped hem of your underwear. You gasp sharply, and you shiver when you feel him smile against the line of your hips in response. 

He surges upward to bring his face in between your breasts; grabs and kisses them through the thin material of your tank top. 

“This shirt is new, right? It doesn’t have your scent yet,” he says between kisses. “Let me guess, you bought this just for me.” 

You can only nod. But it’s enough for Caleb to groan against your right breast and finally bring it into his mouth. He sucks on your clothed nipple hard, and you hiss from the pain. 

“E-easy. They’re sensitive.” 

“Sorry.” He kisses the center of your chest in apology, then hikes up your top over your breasts. He massages them in both his hands before he licks your other nipple to a stiff peak. The shock of his mouth on your skin again has you writhing against him. 

He kisses a trail along your left breast and up towards the juncture between your neck and shoulder, where he bites down hard. You cry out as Caleb sucks and laves his tongue on the bite. The sting of it makes your cunt tighten in anticipation.

“It’s already bruising. Sorry about that,” he whispers directly in your ear. His warm breath on your heated skin leaves you lightheaded.

“Stop teasing me,” you whine. 

“The girl of my dreams just told me she has feelings for me. Excuse me for trying to savor the moment.” 

“The girl of your–”  

Caleb cuts you off with a kiss, finally. Plush lips lock with yours as he slowly grinds his hips into you. His tongue dips into your mouth eagerly, and you bury a hand in his hair to pull him closer. It feels so good being under him like this, touching and kissing him like this. You don’t know if you’ll ever get enough Caleb. 

As soon as you press your hips to meet his, he breaks away from the kiss. Caleb kneels before you once again and yanks down your shorts, leaving you only in panties made shear from your arousal. He lifts your bottom half upward until your knees rest on your shoulders, and your pussy is presented to him. 

Caleb presses his face into you and inhales deeply. His eyes roll back into his head, and he gives a pained groan. Goosebumps decorate your quivering body as he runs his thumb over the soaked fabric. When he presses the digit on your clit, more of your slick gushes out of you. He impatiently pushes your panties halfway down your thighs; you can now see the tufts of hair on your mound glistening with arousal. A wave of embarrassment threatens to drown you at the sight, but it pales in comparison to the absolute mortification you feel when Caleb spreads you open with his thumbs and spits onto your already drenched center. You can hardly breathe as he rubs his spit into your folds and dips one of his thumbs into your tight entrance, shallowly fucking you with it but not for long enough. He leaves you clenching around nothing. 

There’s an unfocused haze clouding his vibrant eyes when he spits on your cunt again. He seems to be putting all his focus into finding out what makes you gasp and moan. 

Which turns out to be anything he does to you. Shocking. 

“You’re so wet,” he says as he eases you back onto the couch. “Let me try…” 

You whimper when he first licks your pussy, a broad stroke of his tongue over soaked flesh.  

“Mmm, I like it. You’re so sweet.” 

You watch him suck on your clit and lick your folds in pure astonishment. He’s really getting into it, kissing your pussy like he did your mouth. You massage one of your breasts, pinching and tugging on your nipple, and grab a fistful of his hair. He pushes his tongue into you and your thighs clench around his head. 

Caleb moans into you, takes hold of your thighs, and pushes them apart again. As if in retaliation, he begins his wicked assault on your clit. He flicks his tongue against it and hollows his cheeks when he slurps it back into his mouth. Your body shakes in his hold; all of your nerves feel raw. You cum when he catches your swollen nub between his teeth. Tears streak your cheeks and your essence stains his face. But he doesn’t stop, he keeps on working you up until the overstimulation gets to be too much for you. You use the hand in his hair to tug him away. 

Caleb sits up and smirks at you, all too satisfied with the mess he’s reduced you to. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand then helps you sit up also. He situates you on his lap, hands on your ass, mouth around one of your tits as you both grind on each other. 

Although you feel so good, you don’t like giving him the upper hand. You set your teeth into his kiss-swollen bottom lip and tug it gently as you pull away from him completely. He chases after your lips, but you move off his waist in favor of kneeling on the cushion beside him. A smirk of your own plays on your face when you reach for the waistband of his basketball shorts. His wide eyes are dark with desire. 

“Shit,” he sighs when his cock springs up against his abs. “Lick the sides of it, all of it.” 

The lust you feel overrides the irritation of having him tell you what to do. You suck one of his balls into your mouth so as not to heed his command right away. His cock jumps and his abdomen spasms at the sensation. Pre spurts out of him in a thick rivulet. 

“Let me clean that up.” You lick along the length of him, moaning at the salty taste of pre-cum and sweat. His entire body shudders when you trace the tip of your tongue under the glans of his cock before taking it in your mouth. 

“Show me how much you want it,” Caleb groans. “Spit on it.” 

You do as he says, a frothy trail of saliva dripping from your lips onto the flushed tip. You jerk his cock a few times; your hand just barely wraps around it. You wonder briefly if you’ll be able to even take all of him. But the look of complete bliss on his face, from just a few pumps of your hand makes you eager to try. You open your mouth wide to take him, bobbing your head about halfway. 

“You can go lower,” Caleb encourages. He caresses your bare back and kneads your ass, gentle touches that make you arch into them. You relax your throat to swallow more of him. He swears harshly under his breath again, and then you feel two fingers push into your pussy. 

You pull away from his cock with a gasp and jerk him off as you try to catch your breath. But Caleb fucking his fingers into you certainly doesn’t help. 

“Knock it off.” You spit on his cock again, squeeze it a bit tighter when you reach the tip. “It’s my turn.” 

“I can't make you feel good, too? Hmm?” Caleb asks as you glare at him. He curls his fingers into your sweet spot and you cum again. Eyes clenched and legs going weak. You collapse onto your side, and Caleb guides your head so your cheek rests on his stomach. 

“You have such a cute face,” he groans. “I just wanna fuck it.” 

He keeps one hand on the top of your head and guides his cock back into your mouth with the other. He thrusts his hips upward, and you gag at the sudden intrusion. 

You massage his balls as he fucks your mouth. The hinge of your jaw is starting to get sore with the effort of sucking him off, but hearing him gasp and moan above you, feeling his thighs twitch beneath you... It’s worth it, knowing that you’re able to make him feel this good. 

You want to be the only one making him feel this good. 

“I can’t believe you’re letting me do all this to you,” Caleb moans. He thrusts into you more sloppily, your only sign before he buries himself down your throat and cums, your name a pleasured gasp on his lips. You’ve never heard a more beautiful sound. 

Caleb pulls himself out of your mouth once he’s finished. You’re shocked to see his cock has barely softened, still erect and shiny. He must know you’re ogling it, because he asks, “Wanna try riding it?” 

You straighten up and nod. 

“Good. Get up here.” 

Caleb positions your knees on either side of his waist again and kisses you. His tongue strokes yours in a slow seduction. He seems content to take his time working you up. But you’re aching for him. You reach for the base of his cock so you can guide it into your swollen pussy. Already you feel sated just from sitting on it. 

Caleb lays beneath you, and you brace yourself with one hand on the back of the couch, the other on a cushion so you can rock your hips against him. You’re so full, you want to keep him buried inside you forever.  

He lifts you by your waist and pushes you down onto his length as he presses deep into you. Your walls clench around him, and he hisses sharply. Caleb pulls you down until you lay chest to chest. He takes hold of your ass and bounces you in time with his thrusts. 

“It’s so good,” you whine. 

“You like it when I fuck you this deep?” 

“I do.” 

 “Hmm? I can’t hear you.” He plants his feet and pistons his hips into you faster. 

“Caleb! I love it, I love it,” you cry out. 

He grabs your face and pulls you in for a messy kiss as you cum and cry for him. Your pussy tightens around him as your essence coats your thighs and his. 

He lifts you off him and repositions you so you sit on his face like you would on the couch. He wraps his lips around yours and sucks. Everything he does makes you crazy with desire, and you’re desperate to return the favor. You lean onto your side and take his cock back into your mouth, using your hand to pump the rest of him. You hollow your cheeks like he did to your poor clit earlier, trace your tongue along his frenulum.  

The room is filled with the wet sounds of you two bringing each other to orgasm. It’s as if you’re competing to see who can push who to climax first.  

You sob when Caleb lifts you off his face, but he swiftly repositions you so your back drapes over his chest and he pushes back inside you with a rumbling groan. He maneuvers your bunched up tank top off and fucks up into you at a fast pace. He alternates between playing with your bouncing breasts and toying with your swollen clit. Drool leaks out of your mouth with every second of unbelievable pleasure he puts you through. 

 Caleb hooks his elbows under your knees and folds you in half again. He braces his hands on the either side of your neck and pounds into your softened pussy. The angle makes you feel faint; he’s so deep, you’re wound up so tight. 

He shifts you both onto your sides, dropping your left leg so he can swipe at your clit; your right leg propped up even higher by his elbow. He continues to drive himself into you hard. Your vision blurs from the intensity of this moment. You can’t believe he’s fucking you in the living room. 

You can’t believe he’s fucking you in the living room. 

“Caleb, wait,” you pant. “What if Grandma comes back?” 

“Relax, I told you–ungh–she won’t be back until late.” 

You know he’s probably right, but the thought of her coming home, catching you both like this, terrifies you. But the fear is somehow electrifying and before you know it you reach an orgasm like no other. You can’t stop cumming on his cock as he languidly fucks you through it. 

“Caleb!” You wail.  

“My name isn’t a safe word.” He kisses you roughly then sucks on your nipple. “Saying my name won’t make me stop.” 

“Please, let’s just go to your, ahh! Your room!” 

“Alright, alright,” he laughs. “You are so hard to please.” 

He pulls out of you and stands up from the couch. You reach out for him, and he picks you up with ease before slamming you back on his cock. He uses your body like he would a fleshlight, bouncing you on his length so effortlessly even as he walks you both to his room. 

Caleb kicks his door closed behind him. He lays you down among his pillows, still plowing into you. The necklace you gave him sways in your face; the sight of it heats your blood to boiling.

“Fuck,” he drawls. He pulls his cock out with a lewd squelch and fucks his hand at a furious pace, concentrating on its head so that milky droplets of cum adorn your body. 

Caleb tears his shirt off so he can lay flush on your chest to kiss you, slow and hungry. He weighs you down so deliciously, and yet you wrap your legs around his waist, arms on his back, wanting him closer still. 

“Mmm,” he groans before another kiss. “You wanna keep going at it?” 

“Yes, I want all of you.” 

“Alright,” he flips you onto your knees, lifts your hips up into the air. He leans over your back to whisper right in your ear. 

“But now I’ll be rougher. This time… you can’t tell me to stop.” 

Caleb grabs your waist to the point of bruising and impales you on his dick. He pulls you back onto him as he pistons his hips against your ass. His balls slap against your clit with every heavy press of his dick in your sopping wet cunt, striking you with a jolt of lightning each time your bodies meet. 

You feel a hand card through your hair before it’s pulled hard. You cry out at the white-hot pain, the lick of lightning that zings down your back as it’s forced into a deep arch. 

“You’re so sexy like this. Letting me fuck you however I want.” 

“Ca-Caleb…Fuck! You’re gonna make me cum again.” 

“Yeah? You like my cock that much? But you thought it was a good idea to ignore me?” 

Caleb’s palm comes down on your ass hard. The shock and sting of it makes your walls spasm around him. His words melt your brain. You cum so hard that your body shivers with prickly pleasure. 

He presses your face into the pillows and fucks you harder. You groan, feeling too much. His skin sticking to yours, cum running down your thighs. Your throat is sore when you rasp his name. 

His hands wrap around your elbows, and he yanks you back onto him. He fucks into you messily. The sounds of your fervent coupling arouse you to no end despite the overstimulation that takes hold of you. 

“Gonna cum again like a good girl, hmm?” He growls. 

You moan in response. Caleb hooks one arm under both of yours and pulls you closer to him. His pace hardly falters. 

“I asked you a question.” He lands a quick slap to your clit and you yelp. “Or are you so fucked out for me that you can’t even speak? I’m fucking you that good, huh?” 

Caleb releases your arms to wrap his own around your torso. He grabs your breasts and throat, and your breaths leave you shallowly. Your wanton moans fill the air as Caleb pounds his cock into your softened walls. 

“So... Fucking...Good,” you groan. “Fuck don’t stop. Don’t stop!” 

Caleb presses into your sweet spot more forcefully. That coupled with his fingers on your twitching clit leaves you no other choice but to plummet into the throes of yet another earth-shattering orgasm. You fall limp against Caleb’s chest; your mouth stretches around a whisper-soft shriek.  

He holds you tight in his overwhelming embrace. His hips grind into you at a slower, sloppier pace as he shoots his cum deep inside your cunt. You feel his cock finally soften as you try to breathe.  

“Your eyes are fluttering again. Rest. I’ll hold you.”  

Caleb settles you both into the bed, his spent cock still snug within your cunt. He wraps himself around you, legs tangled with yours, his cheek on your temple. The soft vibrations of his words are enough to coax you into a sleepy state.  

“So, this is what it feels like to have you in my arms,” he whispers. “Should I hold you even tighter?” 

“Please,” you mumble. He wraps his arms around your center again and hugs you close.

“I thought you wouldn’t like this. You dislike the feeling of being ensnared, right? Am I the exception?” 

“Mhmm.” 

Your entire body is sore when you wake up. Muscles ache as you push yourself to sit up in bed. You take stock of your surroundings as you wake up. You’re dressed in one of Caleb’s oversized t-shirts, and you’ve been cleaned up. The scent of sex is a heavy, heady cloud in the air. And the summer sun outside the window casts the room in a burnt orange glow. There’s a beauty to this quiet moment that you want to cherish. 

...Did Caleb really fuck you that good? You’re in here waxing poetic about everything you see. You’ve never felt this blissed out before. 

The door to his bedroom eases open and Caleb appears with a glass of water in hand. A swarm of butterflies takes flight in your stomach when he smiles at you affectionately. You’re not sure what to say to him. Even after...everything, you feel so shy before him.  

You forget all about that when a succulent scent wafts into the room. 

“Do I smell braised pork? So, I was able to convince you after all.” 

“You know when it comes to food, there’s really no underestimating what you can do. You sure you don’t want me to cook you a nice, juicy wyrmlord?” 

“You have enough energy to tease me?” You ask. 

“And then some. I could make you cum all day, every day for a week and still find the time to toy with you.” 

You fling a pillow at his head that he catches with a boyish laugh.  

“Careful, you’ll spill the water I so thoughtfully brought you. Drink up.” Caleb holds the glass to your lips, and the heated look he gives you prompts you to open your mouth and take a few sips. Some water trickles out from the corner of your mouth as you do, so Caleb puts the glass on his nightstand and wipes it from your chin and bottom lip with his thumb. 

“You didn’t need to do that,” you say, a smile on your face despite your burning cheeks. 

“Well, you did call me selfish earlier.” 

“Because you were hogging the bathroom. What did you expect?” 

“It just reminded me of one time when we were younger. When you first called me selfish. It left a deep impression on me.” 

“Really?” 

“Of course.” Caleb sits down beside you in bed. He presses a kiss to your forehead. His lips linger there as he speaks. “You know I’ve always wanted to grow up as a generous…you know.”   

Your face heats up at the implication.    

“And you weren’t far off. I can be downright selfish sometimes. I want you to let me occupy every part of your life. That’s why it hurt so much when you were avoiding me.” 

“I’m sorry Caleb. I just...wanted you to belong only to me. And I didn’t think that was possible, so I lost my head a little bit.” 

"If you want all of Caleb...Well, I’m yours. And I’ll be right here, too.” He places a hand over your heart. “I always have been, I always will be.” 

[bambieyedoll]

⋆·˚ ༘ * JACOB BLACK HEADCANONS 𐚁̸.ᐟ

𐙚 jacob and you are having a baby

jacob knows something’s up— he notices right away that you’ve been acting different.

you’re more tired than usual, feeling queasy in the mornings, and turning your nose up at foods you normally love.

one night, while you’re curled up on the couch, he nudges you gently. “you feeling okay, baby? you’ve been acting kinda off lately.”

the pack teases him because he starts getting paranoid. embry snickers, “dude, maybe she’s pregnant.” jacob rolls his eyes at first, but then the thought sticks.

he starts watching you even more closely. the next time you run to the bathroom after breakfast, his stomach drops.

you weren’t sure how to bring it up, especially since this wasn’t exactly planned. but after taking multiple tests (because one wasn’t enough for you to believe it), you know you have to tell him.

you sit him down, fidgeting with your fingers, heart pounding. “jake… i have to tell you something.”

his protective instincts kick in immediately. “what? what’s wrong?” you take a deep breath and whisper, “i’m— i’m pregnant.”

jacob just… freezes. his eyes widen, his mouth opens slightly, but no words come out. it’s the first time you’ve ever seen him completely speechless.

“wait… seriously?” he blinks rapidly, like he’s trying to process it. “you’re serious? we’re—?” you nod, watching his reaction carefully.

there’s the softest, most overwhelmed look on his face— his expression shifts from shock to awe.

his gaze drops to your stomach, then back up to your eyes, as if he’s trying to fully comprehend that his baby is growing inside you.

jacob isn’t the type to cry easily, but his throat tightens. he lets out a soft, breathless laugh, running a hand through his hair.

“we’re having a baby?” he repeats it like he’s trying to make it real. when you nod again, his face breaks into the biggest smile.

he drops to his knees in front of you, placing his hands on your stomach—even though there’s no bump yet. his voice is a whisper, full of love and disbelief. “our baby’s in there?”

he surges up, cupping your face and kissing you deeply, murmuring “i love you” between every kiss. then he presses a soft kiss to your stomach, resting his forehead against it for a moment, completely overwhelmed.

after the initial shock, jacob won’t stop smiling. he pulls you into his arms, practically lifting you off the ground. “we’re gonna be parents, babe! holy sht—i’m gonna be a dad!”

the pack hears him freak out.

a few minutes later, you hear a commotion outside as jacob literally sprints out of the house, yelling, “I’M GONNA BE A DAD!” the pack stares at him like he’s lost it, while embry and quil crack up. “well, there goes our eardrums.”

at first, he’s just running on pure adrenaline and excitement, but once things settle down, it really starts sinking in.

he refuses to let you do anything— “baby, sit down. i’ll get it.” “no, no, don’t carry that—i’ll do it.” the protectiveness starts immediately, and you know he’s going to be insufferable for the next nine months.

at some point, the shock turns into smug pride. he’ll walk around with his chest puffed out, looking ridiculously pleased.

if anyone so much as looks at you, he grins and announces, “yeah, that’s my girl. and she’s having my kid.” the pack just groans.

even though there’s no bump yet, he always falls asleep with his hand over your stomach, like he’s already protecting the baby.

sometimes, he murmurs in his sleep, things like “my family” and lots of “love you” and you just melt right there and then.

he immediately insists on turning the spare room into a nursery. even though you’re barely pregnant, he’s already talking about color schemes and crib options.

you joke, “honey, the baby is the size of a bean.” he just shrugs. “yeah, but bean’s gonna need a room.”

jacob never thought he’d be looking up pregnancy books, but now he’s watching videos on baby development and googling “what foods are safe for pregnancy.” he wants to know everything so he can take care of you properly.

he starts making a list of names that same week. he takes it very seriously. “what about—wait, no, too weird. oh! what about this one?” you roll your eyes. “jake, we have months to decide.” he grins. “yeah, but i wanna get a head start.”

no matter what he’s doing, if you need something, he’s on it. patrol? he’ll wrap it up fast. mid-conversation? he’s already halfway out the door if you call his name.

if you get a craving in the middle of the night? say less. jacob is already grabbing his keys. “pickles and ice cream? you’re sure about this?” he pauses, eyeing you. “…never mind, dumb question. i’ll be back in ten minutes.”

one time, you casually mentioned wanting ice cream, and fifteen minutes later, he burst into the room, breathless, holding two tubs. “chocolate and vanilla. just in case. and sprinkles. thought i’d cover all the bases.”

the pack is used to jacob being a bit reckless, but now? he’s the one lecturing them. “watch where you’re running! y/n is right there.” if you so much as wince, he’s on high alert. “what? what’s wrong? does something hurt?”

quil teases him relentlessly. “dude, she’s pregnant, not made of glass.” jacob glares. “yeah, well, i’m not taking any chances.”

he texts you from patrol with a simple “miss you. you and baby doing okay?” even if he’s exhausted, he always makes sure you feel loved.

he tries to act all tough, but the second he thinks about how you’re having his baby, his heart melts. he’ll randomly wrap his arms around you from behind, resting his hands on your stomach. “you really have no idea how much i love you.”

he acts like it’s no big deal, but then you catch him getting way too excited over tiny onesies.

“babe. look at this. it has little wolves on it. we have to get it.” he also insists on getting one with a motorcycle on it, claiming it’s never too early to start teaching them about bikes.

jacob gets weirdly sentimental. one night, you find him sitting on the couch, holding an old baby picture of himself and other of you.

when you ask what he’s doing, he sighs. “just thinking about how our kid will look like. the perfect mix of us.” he shakes his head with a grin. “god, i really hope they get your nose.”

the first time the baby kicks, he’s obsessed. but when they only seem to kick when he’s not around? he pouts. “oh, so you’ll kick for mommy but not for me? that’s cool. real nice.” you laugh because the second he starts talking to your belly again, the baby kicks immediately.

jacob knows pregnancy is rough on you, so he’s always giving you massages. feet, shoulders, back—whatever you need.

he’ll rub soothing circles over your lower back when you wince, murmuring, “i got you, babe. just relax.” and if you’re extra sore? he’ll have you sit between his legs while he massages your hips, placing gentle kisses along your shoulder.

one of the best perks? jacob is basically a furnace, and when you get those pregnancy chills or aching muscles, he’s got you.

he’ll wrap himself around you, rubbing soothing circles on your back. “feeling better, sweetheart?”

jacob loves your baby bump. the moment your baby bump shows undeniably, he’s obsessed with it. he kisses it, rests his head on it, and just marvels at it.

he talks to your belly all the time. “hey, little one. hope you’re being nice to your mommy in there.” sometimes, you wake up to him murmuring sleepy promises against your skin. “can’t wait to meet you.”

he brings you flowers just because. he surprises you with your favorite snacks. takes you on little dates totally personalized for your comfort and the baby’s.

pregnancy makes you exhausted, moody, and uncomfortable at times, but jacob never makes you feel anything but adored. he’s constantly kissing your forehead, running his hands over your back, and telling you how amazing you are. “you’re incredible, you know that?”

when he sees the baby on the screen for the first time, he just stares. he squeezes your hand, his eyes a little wide. “that’s… that’s our baby.”

he’s so overwhelmed he doesn’t even notice the tear slipping down his cheek until you brush it away with a soft laugh.

during the final pregnancy stages, you start nesting and jacob is both amused and stressed. you want to rearrange the nursery at 2 AM? he groans but still helps you move the crib.

“babe, you realize we already moved this, like, three times, right?” but he does it anyway, because you’re glowing and happy, and he’s weak for you.

he thought he’d be cool and collected, but the second you gasp and say, “honey… i think it’s happening,” he freezes. “oh—oh sht. okay. okay, we got this. no big deal. just—deep breaths, baby. i mean, i should— you’re—oh my god, okay, i’ll get the bag.”

labor is hell, and jacob can’t stand seeing you hurt.

he holds your hand the entire time, his voice low and reassuring. “you’re doing amazing, sweetheart. just a little longer, okay?” he presses shaky kisses to your forehead between contractions, murmuring how much he loves you.

the second your baby is placed in his arms and he’s completely sure you’re okay, jacob is a goner. his voice is barely above a whisper. “hi, baby… it’s your dad.” his eyes shine with emotion, and he looks between you and the baby like you just handed him the whole world. “oh, you’re perfect.”

he was always in love with you, but seeing you as a mom? it ruins him.

one night, as he watches you rocking the baby to sleep, he just shakes his head in awe. “god, you’re gorgeous,” he murmurs, reaching for your hand.

you look up at him with a smile and hold his hand as he carefully steps closer to hug you and the baby safe in his arms.

[goldfades]

pregnancy scares with luke hughes🤞🤞🤞 he would def be freaking out but it ends up being nothing!!!

you’re pretty sure luke hasn’t sat down for more than five seconds in the last hour. he’s pacing the length of the living room, one hand in his hair, the other holding his phone like he’s waiting for some kind of emergency alert to come through. it would almost be funny if you weren’t equally as on edge.

the unopened pregnancy test sits on the counter where you left it, staring at you like it knows you’re avoiding it. you don’t even have the energy to glare back at it—your nerves are too frayed. instead, you watch luke from your spot on the couch, clutching a throw pillow to your chest like it’s some kind of lifeline.

“what if it’s positive?” he blurts out suddenly, stopping in his tracks to look at you, his blue eyes wide with panic. “like… what do we even do? do we call someone? your mom? my mom? oh god, my mom.”

“luke,” you say, trying to keep your voice calm even though your heart is pounding like a drum. “we don’t even know yet. let’s not jump to conclusions.”

he stares at you for a moment, then runs a hand down his face. “right. yeah. no conclusions. totally chill over here.”

you raise an eyebrow at him, and he lets out a nervous laugh, sinking down onto the arm of the couch. it doesn’t last long—he’s back on his feet within seconds, muttering something about how his brain feels like it’s short-circuiting.

“okay, but seriously,” he says, turning back to you, his hands flailing slightly in that way they do when he’s overwhelmed. “what if it’s real? like, what if we’re—what if you’re—”

“pregnant?” you finish for him, your voice quieter this time. the word hangs in the air between you, heavy and uncertain.

he nods, his expression softening as he looks at you. “yeah. that.”

you take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “then we figure it out. together.”

“together,” he repeats, like he’s testing the word out. he nods again, a little firmer this time, and for a second, it almost looks like he’s calming down.

and then he notices the test on the counter. “okay, no, i can’t do this anymore,” he says, running a hand through his hair again. “you have to take it. right now. i’m dying over here.”

“you’re dying?” you ask, a hint of exasperation creeping into your tone. “i’m the one who might be pregnant, luke.”

“exactly!” he says, throwing his arms out dramatically. “which is why we need to know, like, immediately.”

you roll your eyes but head toward the bathroom anyway, grabbing the test as you go. “you’re not allowed to say a word until i’m done,” you warn, and luke holds his hands up in mock surrender.

“not a word,” he promises, but the second the door closes behind you, you hear him mutter to himself, “a baby, though… that’d be kinda wild.”

you groan, trying to block him out as you do what the test requires, but by the time you’re done and waiting for the results, you can hear him outside the door, talking to himself at full speed.

“like, obviously, i’d teach them how to skate,” he says, his voice muffled but clear enough to make you laugh quietly to yourself. “they’d have to start early—i mean, that’s the key, right? i was skating at, what, three? two? can kids even walk at two?”

you open the door and lean against the frame, test still in your hand, watching as he paces the living room like he’s coaching his imaginary future kid through a big game. he doesn’t notice you right away, too caught up in his rambling.

“and names,” he continues, gesturing animatedly. “if it’s a boy, we could name him something strong, like—i don’t know, jack junior or something. no, wait, that’s awful. maybe something cool like—like hunter! or brody! oh my god, i’d totally have a brody.”

you clear your throat, and luke freezes mid-gesture, spinning to look at you like a kid caught stealing cookies. “uh, hi,” he says, sheepishly scratching the back of his neck. “how’d it go?”

“it’s still processing,” you say, holding up the test. “but, uh, sounds like you’ve been busy.”

his cheeks flush a deep red, but he grins, unabashed. “okay, but hear me out—if it’s a girl, we name her something badass. like, she could totally pull off a name like harper. or sutton. sutton hughes. tell me that doesn’t sound like a star.”

you can’t help but laugh, shaking your head at him. “you’re already planning their whole life, and we don’t even know if there’s a them yet.”

“well, yeah,” he says, plopping down on the couch with a dramatic sigh. “i mean, it’s kinda fun to think about, you know? like, little hockey practices, bringing them to the rink, teaching them how to chirp jack in the most creative way possible…”

you sit beside him, the test now lying face down on the coffee table, its results still unknown. “you’d be a good dad,” you say softly, watching as his grin softens into something a little more genuine.

“you think so?” he asks, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.

“yeah,” you reply. “a chaotic one, maybe. but a good one.”

before he can respond, the timer on your phone goes off, signaling the test is ready. both of you freeze, the moment suddenly much heavier than the lighthearted banter that preceded it.

“you wanna look, or should i?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

luke swallows hard, then gestures toward you. “you. i’ll just—” he flops back dramatically against the couch cushions. “—be over here, dying inside.”

with a nervous laugh, you reach for the test, flipping it over. your eyes scan the result, and your shoulders sag with relief. “negative,” you say, holding it up for him to see.

luke lets out the loudest, most exaggerated exhale you’ve ever heard, his head falling back against the couch. “oh, thank god,” he says, a hand over his heart like he just avoided a near-death experience.

you laugh, watching as he sits up, still a little wide-eyed. “i thought you were ready to start a hockey dynasty,” you tease, nudging him with your shoulder.

“oh, don’t get me wrong,” he says with a grin. ���i’m glad it’s not happening now, but, like… someday? sutton hughes is definitely gonna rule the world.”

you roll your eyes, laughing as he throws an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. “you’re impossible,” you mutter, but there’s no real bite to it.

“and you love me for it,” he quips, pressing a kiss to your temple.

you don’t reply, but the smile on your face says enough.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[michanvalentine]

Let’s talk about the bite scene. I’m sure it’s already been discussed to death, but through an unexpected detour (I’ve discovered I enjoy making videos about my BG3 adventures), I found myself analyzing frame by frame of Astarion baring his fangs.

First of all, the scene is pure tragicomedy. Tav/Durge wakes up abruptly to find this guy hovering over them with a furrowed brow, eyes squeezed shut, and mouth wide open, ready to sink his teeth into their jugular. Or close enough. Because Astarion in that moment isn’t scary, he isn’t even infuriating—he’s just plain ridiculous. And honestly? Kinda ugly to look at! xD

And it’s tragic because this incredibly agile guy, with such a delicate touch and extreme dexterity, has no idea what the hell he’s actually doing. He’s a vampire, for gods’ sake—this should be the easiest thing in the world for him.

Instead, he’s there, hesitating, gauging how and where to bite, with his EYES CLOSED, for crying out loud. He’s not even looking at what he’s doing, as if he’s the one who’s afraid.

And that’s exactly it—Astarion is disobeying Cazador’s direct orders, and the consequences could be terrible. If, after granting him a taste, you choose the dialogue option to use force to push him away, Astarion’s expression once again speaks volumes.

Just for a moment, as he’s pushed aside, it’s a sea of emotions. There’s deep fear—fear of having disobeyed, fear of being struck by Tav/Durge for it—and overwhelming astonishment at having tasted, for the first time in his unlife, the blood of a sentient creature. And in that, he discovers a fleeting moment of peace, of happiness.

And all of this is overwhelming for him—more than he can process. For many, this scene is infuriating, and rightly so—the game even gives you the option to drive a stake through his heart right then and there. But for me, in that moment, Astarion just evokes so much, so much tenderness.

[doiliedaze]

Breathe in, Breathe out

Domestic! Sevika x reader

Warnings: suffocation training ☺️↕️ size kink kinda, pussy slapping, think that’s it!!

Genre: smut

A/N: when I tell y’all I got myself a little flustered cause I need her so bad🙏🏿 reader is a bored bimbo housewife 🫶🏿

───────┈ · ·

You love trying new things, so when you’re cooped up in the house and Vika isn’t there you do everything! You cooked, re-organize, touch up your nails, have a fashion show for the cat, imagine Sevika fucking the shit outta you.

You being you, you love pushing your limits. You try to handle everything she gives you but damn near tap out everytime she choked you so tonight you’re gonna practice till it’s perfect.

When Sev arrives home, you do your usual greetings, kissing by the door, showing off that you’re wearing just her shirt and talking her head off as you follow her around the cozy apartment.

Watching her shower was enough to get you wet but it wasn’t about that tonight. She knows your stares and she can always read what’s going on in that little brain of yours, “what’s my girl thinkin’ about mhm?” She says softly as she steps out the shower.

“Nothing Vika” you whisper as you play with your ring.

Her naked form walks over and places you on the sink counter. Her buff arms on either side of you. “You okay baby?” Sevika’s eyes flicker with concern. You rub her face, “I’m fine I just…Sev can you build my tolerance?”

Embarrassed and not wanting to explain yourself you play with the plush of your thighs. Heat seeping into your face and you’re glad she can’t see it.

Her hand tilts your chin and her eyes tell you to continue talking.

“Y’know how whenever you choke me I can never handle it? Well I want to so I thought maybe if you like trained me I could handle it!”

She snorts at your explanation causing a whine to come from your lips.

“You’re so dramatic, how long did it take you to muster up the courage to ask?”

“Longer than I’d like to admit…”

To reassure you, Sevika kisses you softly. Y’all lips moving in sync, and she pries your legs open. Instinctively you take off your shirt and press yourself against her.

She tries to pull away from your lips, eager to keep her tongue down your throat you bite her lip hard causing a shaky groan to spill out the taller woman’s throat.

Your clit throbs in want so you move your hand off her bicep to touch yourself when she grabs your hand. “Not tonight.” You pout at this but you listen.

Sevika let’s go of your hand trusting her wife to obey her command. Her metal hand wrapping around your throat and her eyes asking if this is okay and you nod.

The cool metal starts to add pressure around your neck causing you to sit up some. You close your eyes and steady your mind as you’re already getting overstimulated. To ease you Sevika leans back in and kisses you.

You spread your legs further for her, in the process knocking things over. Your wet cunt presented for your beautiful wife. She slaps it hard causing a jolt in your hips and a moan to escape.

Her grip on your neck has tightened ten fold and you’re feeling pressure that’s slightly uncomfortable but beyond pleasurable. She’s splitting you open in a way. She plunges two thick fingers into your eager pussy, and tongues you till drool trickles down your chin seeping into the valley of your breast.

Her eyes evaluate if you can handle more and before she can pull away and ask you nod as much as you can.

With that she applies more pressure in her grip around your neck, you scratch at her bicep, digging in deep to drawl a little blood. A weak moan came from you, motivating you to continue. Your free hand travels down her body and you strain yourself to play with her neglected clit. It is protruding and pretty, always wet for you.

You scoot closer causing her fingers to go deeper into you just so you can slip your fingers into her fat cunt. Her grip and movements stagger as she shakes, she’s a quick to cum when you touch her.

You try to build another orgasm in her as you feel her pussy pulsate around you but her fingers pump faster as you shake and arch off the sink and into her. Your orgasm crashes over you and you choke as you try to moan.

Sevika let’s you go and pulls away from your grasp as you both catch your breath.

There’s cum down the both of your legs, chests heaving and saliva everywhere. You look up at her and brokenly say, “round two?”

───────┈ · ·

A/N: this is actually my favorite outta everything I wrote!! Got myself a little hot and bothered lol!! Enjoy lovelies🫶🏿

Taglist: @manfuckthisimout

(Dividers- @dollywons)

[princesevsnape]

Twist of Fate (James Potter x Reader)

Requested by anon

Summary: Your Potions Partner for a project, James Potter asks you to help him ask out Lily Evans. During the process he ends up falling for you.

Word count: 1.6k

A/N; Not gonna lie I quite enjoyed writing this one. I know in your request you mentioned writing headcanons for this but with how much detail you gave a one shot seemed more fitting. Please continue to send in requests. And I’m happy to continue writing for James Potter despite how much I hate what he did to Severus (and you all know how I feel about Severus).

Potions was your favourite class. It was one of the few classes that you were good at and actually enjoyed.

You had never had any problems in Potions class. That was until you had been partnered up with none other than James Potter for a project. Arrogant, immature, bully James Potter. The same James Potter that you had a stupid crush on even though you knew you shouldn’t. And you knew you’d probably end up having to do all the work. Or at least most of it.

You had arranged to meet in the library after classes that afternoon to start work on your Potions project.

“Hello little Miss Hufflepuff.” James said smirking as he sat down opposite you.

“Potter.” You said rolling your eyes at him.

“Ok what do we need to do?” He asked.

“You weren’t paying attention were you?” You teased.

“No. I’ve been kinda distracted.” He said and then you noticed how his gaze shifted to a certain red head.

Lily Evans. A very beautiful girl. You could see why James was distracted by her. But it made your heart sink. Of course you knew he’d never be interested in you. But it still sucked due to you having a crush on him.

“Potter pay attention.” You said snapping him back to reality.

“Sorry. So what do we have to do?” He asked again.

“We need to write about five different potions, list their ingredients, how to make them, and their uses. And then we have to make one of the potions at the end. Do you think you’re capable of doing this work?”

“Yes of course. You take the lead but I’ll help. You’re friends with Lily right?”

“I wouldn’t say friends, more like acquaintances. Why?”

“Could you help me ask her out? I really like her and I’ve tried asking her out before but she always turns me down. I want to sweep her off her feet but I need someone to help me, someone who knows the kind of things she likes.”

“And why should I help you? She’s turned you down for a reason surely you should take that as a sign that she’s not interested.”

“Oh she’s interested she just doesnt know it yet.” James said winking at you.

“You’re gross.” You said.

“Please Y/N. You’re a Hufflepuff. You’re caring. Please surely you care enough to help a friend in need.” He begged.

“We aren’t friends Potter.”

“Fine then your potions partner. Please I’m begging you.”

“Ok I’ll do it. Only if it gets you to actually help me do the work.”

“I promise I will help you.”

“Ok good. We work on this project for the next week. And then and only then will I help you get the girl.”

“Thank you. Thank you so much Y/N.” He smiled at you.

Over the next week you worked on your project with James. He actually surprisingly stuck to his word of helping you the entire time. You were glad you didn’t have to do all the work yourself. But then the day that you were dreading came. The day you had to start helping James to get Lily to agree to go out with him.

It was going to be a difficult time for you. But you promised you’d help him and you’re always true to your word. Even if it was going to hurt knowing he was so enamoured with Lily and not with you.

You spent the next two weeks helping him get ready to ask her out again. You did your research on Lily. Finding out what kind of things she liked and didn’t like, so you could give him the right advice.

You told James everything she liked. Gave him advice on not to come across as too pushy. That if he wants to kiss her on a date, that he shouldn’t force it on her, he should ask her if it’s ok for him to kiss her. You gave him every single piece of advice that you could think of.

“Thank you Y/N. Your advice is great. Tomorrow I’m going to ask her out and put your advice to good use.” He said hugging you.

The next day came. You watched from the sidelines as James approached Lily to ask her out. He wanted you close by for moral support in case it all went wrong. He had actually grown to like you since you were spending more time together. He considered you a friend.

He was stood face to face with Lily, in the courtyard. He saw you stood behind her leaning against a wall a few feet away, giving him the thumbs up. And then he saw an expression on your face that he couldn’t read. You had a slight smile on your face, but there was hurt in your eyes.

“James what do you want?” Lily asked causing him to turn his attention to her.

“I um. I was wondering if.” He started to say but then he turned his gaze back to you.

He saw you, now looking down at the floor a sad look on your face. It made his heart sink.

“Spit it out James.” Lily snapped clearly getting agitated with him.

“Actually forget it.” He said.

He walked over to you. You looked at him and put a fake smile on your face.

“How did it go?” You asked.

“Come with me.” He said grabbing your hand and leading you somewhere quiet so the two of you could talk.

“What’s wrong James?” You asked confused.

“I didn’t ask her out. Also that’s the first time you’ve ever called me James.” He said.

“Why didn’t you? And well you’re starting to grow on me a bit. You used to annoy the hell out of me hence why I always called you Potter.”

“I just it didn’t feel right to ask her. And does that mean we are friends now?” He asked.

“Yes we are friends now James. But why didn’t it feel right to ask her?” You asked confused.

“I realised I don’t like her anymore.” He admitted.

“What why? All that work we did was for nothing.” You said getting annoyed with him.

“Go over there and ask her out.” You added.

“I told you I don’t like her anymore.”

“You seemed to like her up until the point that you were stood right in front of her.” You snapped getting angry with him for wasting your time helping him out.

“Don’t get mad at me sweetheart.” He said causing you to roll your eyes.

“If you carry on I’ll start calling you Potter again.”

“I’m sorry if you think I wasted your time, but I don’t think you did.”

“So why do you suddenly not like Lily?” You asked.

“Because I saw your face.”

“What?” You asked him extremely confused.

“You looked sad when I was talking to Lily.”

“What? No I wasn’t.” You lied.

“Don’t lie to me. I saw it. In your eyes. And then you looked down at the ground with a frown on your face.”

“So what my face put you off asking the girl you like out. Thanks for that. My face puts people off. Noted.” You said before trying to walk away.

James grabbed you by the wrist before you could leave.

“I don’t mean it like that. You really aren’t understanding what I’m trying to say are you?” He asked.

“Well that’s because you aren’t exactly saying much James.”

“Hey you didn’t call me Potter even though you’re getting annoyed by me. That’s progress.”

“James just spit out what you’re trying to say. Otherwise just let me go.”

“Ok. Ok. Look I’m sorry. I’m usually good at this kind of thing but apparently for some reason I’m not right now. When I saw your face. When I saw how sad you looked it made my heart sink. I realised that I no longer like Lily because I’ve started liking you.” He admitted.

“What?” You asked even more confused.

“I like you. I’ve developed some sort of crush on you.”

“What? How?” You asked.

“Because you’ve been spending time with me. Paying attention to me. Helping me. You’ve done everything that Lily has never done. You actually care. She just gets annoyed with me all the time.”

“You annoy me too.” You said.

“Yeah but not as much as I used to. Otherwise you’d still call me Potter all the time.”

“Ok but I just don’t understand why you suddenly like me.”

“I told you the reasons why. You pay attention to me. You helped me so much. You even cared enough to try and help me get another girl to go out with me, despite the fact that you liked me yourself. “

“What how do you know that?” You asked.

“You’re not as subtle as you think you are. I have seen the way you look at me. I can’t blame you by the way.” He winked.

“And there’s that cocky side that makes everyone hate you James.” You said rolling your eyes.

“It’s true though. And when I saw how sad you were it confirmed everything. And it made me realise that yeah I’ve developed feelings for you. I wish I had seen it sooner and I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologise to me.”

“Of course I do. Can I kiss you yet?” He asked.

“What?” You asked. Not quite believing your ears.

He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and then caressed your cheek.

“I said can I kiss you yet?” He asked looking into your eyes and smiling.

You couldn’t get any words out so you just nodded your head.

Slowly James leant in and placed a soft kiss on your lips. He went to pull away until you pulled him back in by holding the back of his neck and deepening the kiss.

This wasn’t the way you expected things to go, but you definitely weren’t complaining.

[syluslnd]

hii i have a few requests i hope you dont mind 🥺🫶 feel free to pick to do any if they have not been done yet, they are kinda mostly prompts though 😭

sylus with a streamer/gamer s/o. like those fics where the fans go crazy when sylus shows up in the camera out of nowhere or hearing his voice. and sylus just being supportive about their hobby 😞❤️

sylus reaction when they have a cosplayer s/o, especially when they come home every day and they meet a new character daily or every other day 😭🤣

sylus reaction when s/o gets period stains during their date

sylus with s/o who cant cook but not the those exaggerated types where they burn the whole kitchen, they just didnt learn how to cook, but can do the bare minimum of helping like slicing and stuff and very easy recipes (projecting because i can't cook but am helpful 😭)

when you get your period mid date

The evening had started off perfectly. You and Sylus were sitting across from each other in one of the fanciest restaurants in town, your skin-tight dress fitting you like a glove. The low lights, soft music and clinking of glasses around you added to the elegance of the night. Sylus looked especially handsome tonight, his gaze on you steady and smoldering and his signature teasing smile made your heart flutter.

Everything was going smoothly—that is, until you felt that familiar pang low in your abdomen. You froze, hoping it was just nerves. But then, you felt a sinking dread as the sensation intensified. Trying not to panic, you excused yourself, offering Sylus a nervous smile. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

“Take your time, sweetie” he replied with a slight smirk. “Don’t go missing me too much.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, giving him a quick wave before heading to the bathroom. But once you were inside, your worst fear was confirmed: a noticeable stain had appeared on the back of your dress. Panic bubbled up in your chest as you stared at your reflection in the mirror, mortified. This wasn’t just any dress, either; it was a pale color, practically a magnet for accidents.

Not knowing what else to do, you took a shaky breath and pulled out your phone, dialing Sylus’s number with trembling fingers. He picked up on the first ring.

“Miss me already?” His voice was laced with humor, but you could practically hear the smile on his face.

“Sylus” you whispered, cringing at how shaky you sounded. “Can you… um… can you come to the bathroom? I need your help. It’s an emergency.”

There was a beat of silence. “Are you hurt, kitten?”

“No! No, not hurt” you stammered, feeling your cheeks heat up. “Just…my period..I’m stained!”

“Got it. Stay right there, I’m coming.” He hung up and you leaned against the counter, waiting anxiously. But as the seconds ticked by, you began to feel more and more self-conscious. What was taking him so long?

After what felt like an eternity, the bathroom door finally opened and there stood Sylus—with a designer shopping bag in his hand. You blinked, trying to process the sight.

“Sylus, what…?” You trailed off, completely baffled.

He smirked, holding up the bag. “What? Did you think I was going to leave my sweetie hanging?” He stepped forward, setting the bag down on the counter. “Got you a new dress. I figured you wouldn’t want to be seen with… you know.” He gestured vaguely, clearly trying to spare you any embarrassment.

Your jaw dropped, both at his thoughtfulness and at the brand-name logo on the bag. “Wait, you actually bought me a new dress? From there?” you asked, pointing out the door, toward the designer store just across the street.

He shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Seemed like the right call. Plus, I got to take my time picking something pretty for you.” His smirk widened. “Had to make sure it’d look perfect on my kitten.”

You let out a small laugh, overwhelmed with relief and gratitude, though your cheeks burned at the thought of him going out of his way for this. “Sylus, I… I don’t know what to say.”

“How about you say you’ll wear it and let me get back to showing you off to the rest of the place?” he teased, handing the bag to you.

You reached for it, heart racing as you peeked inside. The dress was stunning, a rich, deep color that would look amazing on you, with a soft fabric that looked comfortable enough to help you feel more at ease.

“Sylus” you murmured, looking up at him with wide eyes. “Thank you.”

He leaned down, brushing a soft kiss over your forehead. “Anything for you, sweetie” he replied, his voice softer, his teasing tone gone for just a moment.

You felt your chest warm and you tried to look away, but he gently turned your face back toward him. “Hey, don’t get all shy on me now” he said, his smirk returning. “It’s cute, though. Didn’t know I could get my girl so flustered.”

You laughed, half-embarrassed and half-touched and stepped back toward the stall to change. “I’ll be right back” you promised, disappearing inside and slipping on the new dress. When you stepped out, you felt a little self-conscious, smoothing the fabric over your hips.

Sylus’s gaze met yours, his eyes lighting up with admiration. “Beautiful” he said simply, letting his gaze linger as if he were committing the sight to memory.

You felt your cheeks warm under his gaze but a smile crept onto your face as you looked at him. “Think we can go back and pretend like none of this happened?”

He chuckled, offering his arm with a grin. “Of course, kitten. I’ll even let you hold onto the bag—it’s yours, after all.”

You laughed, taking his arm, feeling a surge of confidence as he led you back to your table. Sylus didn’t just make you feel taken care of; he made you feel cherished, like every little detail about you was worth his time.

And as you settled back into your seat, he gave you a wink. “Next time, just call me sooner. Anything to keep my kitten comfortable, you know?”

You smiled, knowing he meant every word. The rest of the night passed in a blur of laughter, stolen glances, and soft whispers and for the first time, you didn’t feel an ounce of insecurity—you were just glad to have Sylus by your side

[imagine-it-was-us]

ease || Lando Norris

Inspiration: Troye Sivan "Ease"

Author's note: First off – just like DTS, the F1 season of 2019 was dramatized to fit the narrative better. I tried to tie it to the events that actually happened as best as I could, but when you actually look at the season, Lando wasn't bad – the car was. Hope you like it.

Pairing: Lando Norris x Reader

Warnings: Anxiety, declining mental health.

Summary: Amid the highs and lows of a debut Formula 1 season, Lando navigates the pressures of the sport, self-doubt, and the weight of expectations. Through late-night phone calls and quiet moments of vulnerability, he finds solace in the one person who sees beyond the headlines.

Word count: 2k+

[Phone ringing…]

"Lando?? Hii!"

"Hey, you answered!" He grinned, leaning back against the couch.

"Of course I did! It’s your first Grand Prix of the year! I’m literally getting ready to go to Oliver’s and watch it." A pause. "Also, you called me, so you expected me to be up, didn’t you?"

"Yeah… but I kinda thought you’d still be asleep."

"I couldn’t. The nerves barely let me." A small pause. "Speaking of which—how are you feeling?"

"Oh, the nerves are definitely there. Jon’s been on my case about it. I barely slept and just forced down breakfast. Outqualifying Carlos was bold, and now I’m wedged between Kimi and Kevin… Those guys have years of experience. It’s gonna be tough to hold my own. I know no one expects me to land a podium, but, you know… a point would be nice."

"Oh, come on, Lando. It’s your first career race as a holder of an F1 seat! You’re not a reserve anymore, but you can’t hold yourself to such a high standard already. I know you hate losing, and I know being here is your dream, but please—keep it realistic."

"I know, I know." He exhaled. "But that’s the thing – I love this. The nerves are there, sure, but the excitement? It’s bigger. I’ve been dreaming about this since I was a kid, and now it’s happening. It’s surreal. Like… I was just a fan, and now I’m in it."

"And that’s exactly why you need to enjoy it, Lando. Whether you finish in the points or not, everyone will be proud of you just for crossing that line. I’m already proud."

Lando chuckled softly. "Look at you, being my best cheerleader."

"I am! And you don’t give yourself enough credit for what you’ve done. You created this life for yourself. Now live it. To the fullest. Don’t let expectations steal the joy from you."

There was a quiet beat between them. Lando let the words sink in before murmuring, "Thanks."

"Anytime."

He glanced at the clock. "I should probably get going."

"Yeah. But Lando?"

"Hm?"

"Enjoy it. Every second of it."

A slow, growing smile spread across his face. "I will."

The call ended, but the words lingered.

_____________

[Phone ringing…]

"Hola, chica."

"Thank God, Lando." She exhaled sharply. "You’re alright?"

"Yeah, of course. Not a bruise on me. Just... gutted."

"I figured. It looked like quite the crash." A pause. "Obviously, I’m relieved you’re okay. Lance is as well, I guess?"

"Oh yeah, not a scratch."

"Lando–"

"I’m just really upset, you know?" He let out a breath, frustration laced in his voice. "I was already gutted after what happened in China, but at least then, I knew I didn’t do anything wrong. And today? Today, I did exactly what Kvyat did. I took someone out of the race. It wasn’t intentional, but… it doesn’t matter. I still feel like shit."

"Lando, accidents happen."

"I know." His voice dropped. "But that doesn’t help. What if McLaren thinks they made a mistake signing me? Maybe I should’ve stayed a reserve driver for another season, learned more before jumping in."

A silence stretched between them before he muttered, "All this driving is driving me crazy, actually."

Her heart clenched. "Oh, my sweet Lando… You’re doing it again, aren’t you? Beating yourself up over things that are part of the learning process?"

He didn’t answer right away. She could hear him shifting around, the rustle of fabric as he lay back against something.

"You’ve had, what? Five races?" she continued. "So what if half of them didn’t go as planned? Two of them did! You scored points, even outscored Carlos once. Do you really think McLaren doesn’t see that? That they’re not excited about what you’re bringing to the team? You’re learning. Even if today feels like a disaster, it’s just a part of the curve—"

"A really fucking steep curve."

"Maybe. But it’s still just a curve."

A heavy sigh left his lips.

"I appreciate your pep talks more than you know." He hesitated before adding, "I’m just… tired. And alone." His voice softened. "Maybe you’ll join me for the French GP? It’s not that far from home…"

She sighed. "Lando, I’m stuck at uni. Even Silverstone might be a struggle. But… I’ll try my best."

"Yeah." He let out a quiet chuckle. "Figured that was a long shot."

"But you’re coming home tomorrow, right?"

"I am, but I heard we have to go straight to MTC. They want us to go over everything, break it all down so we can learn from these mistakes. Might not have much time at home."

"We’ll figure something out, okay?"

"Yeah. Okay."

A beat of silence, then she sighed. "Look, I have to go. I have a shift at the café. But, Lando?"

"Yeah, baby?"

"Please take care of yourself."

A pause. Then, softer than before– "I’ll try."

_____________

[Phone ringing…]

"Hi, Lan, sorry—I was just on the phone with Cisca."

"Oh, so that’s how we’re catching up now, huh? Interrogating my mother?"

"Actually," she paused briefly, "it was the other way around."

A beat of silence.

"What do you mean?" His confusion was audible.

"She’s worried about you. Especially after today. And…" she hesitated, unsure of how he’d take it, "she thinks you’re not being honest about how hard this lifestyle really is on you."

A sigh. A shift of fabric.

"And what did you say to her?" His voice was careful, guarded.

"I didn’t throw you under the bus, if that’s what you’re thinking." She let out a small breath. "But Lan… she knows. She’s your mother. Of course, she knows. And honestly? I think she’s right."

"Right about what?"

"That it’s taking a toll on you, even if you won’t admit it." A pause. "And that you’re not talking to anyone about it. Not even me."

"Listen–"

"It’s okay, Lando, I get it." Her tone softened. "You’ve always been the one to brush things off, to keep things light, to act like none of this weighs you down. But I know you too well for that. I see it, even if you don’t say it."

A silence stretched between them. For a moment, she thought he had hung up.

Then–

"When the paparazzi swarmed me today, when they kept pushing and shouting questions about the car, my career, if I thought I was failing—" he exhaled sharply, his voice falling quieter, as if he was telling a secret. "I thought, ‘I’m afraid of the life that I’ve made.’"

Her heart clenched.

"I knew what I was stepping into. I dreamt about this. But I never imagined people could be so cruel, so invasive. And then there’s all the articles, all the headlines about McLaren’s downfall, and guess whose face they always put next to them? Not Carlos. Me."

"That’s bullshit, what they are doing."

"It is." His voice was raw. "I get that Carlos is performing better, but blaming everything on me? Acting like I’m the reason the team is struggling? It’s just… unfair."

"You’re right. It is unfair." She wanted to reach through the phone, to shake him, to remind him of how much he’d already accomplished. "But tell me, Lando – what can we do? How can I help? How can your family, your friends… what do you need?"

Another pause. Then, softer–

"I don’t know."

But at least for the first time, he didn’t brush her off.

She held onto that small win and carried on. "Well, your parents are coming to France and Austria." A beat. "And I’m doing everything in my power to join you in Silverstone."

He let out a breath, but she wasn’t done.

"Lando, what people say online? It’s bullshit. They don’t know you. They see what they want to see, and they make judgments from the outside. Don’t give them the power to decide how you feel about yourself."

Silence hummed between them for a moment before he muttered, almost to himself, "I just realized that on top of everything, I’m a shit boyfriend. I didn’t even ask you how uni is going."

She huffed, exasperated. "Bullshit talking again, Lan."

A small, tired chuckle from his end.

"Call me an idiot, or just in love, but you are the best thing that has ever happened to me." Her voice softened. "And my struggles? They’re practically nonexistent compared to yours. I don’t have the whole world judging my every step."

A deep breath, a sigh.

"That doesn’t mean they don’t matter."

"Chill, we catch on to my boring life plenty. Same old, not failing and exams are coming at the end of June. I will be fine. As long as you are."

____________

[Phone ringing…]

[Phone ringing…]

[Phone ringing…]

"Lando, thank God you picked up. Talk to me, please"

On her end, the faint hum of the city – cars rushing past, muffled voices, footsteps against pavement. On his end? Nothing.

A shaky breath. Then – his voice, barely above a whisper. "I just don’t think I can do it anymore."

He hated admitting it. Hated how the words tasted like failure on his tongue. But God, he was so tired of trying to hide it. 

Her grip on the phone tightened.

It was just one article. One goddamn article. McLaren considering a lineup change. His picture plastered all over it. He didn’t even read the full thing—if he had, he would’ve seen it was about 2021, about Sainz’s contract coming to an end, about how McLaren needed to step up to keep Carlos.

But he never got that far.

The comments were enough.

That McLaren made a mistake promoting him. That he was too young. That he was the reason McLaren kept failing.

He swallowed. She could hear it.

"What if they are right? What if stepping down would be the most mature thing to do. McLaren believed in me so much, I can’t help feeling like I’m failing them."

"Lando, you are not failing anyone. That article wasn’t even about you."

"You just say that to make me feel better.” A humorless chuckle. “Maybe I’m not cut out for this?"

"Stop. You are at the hotel, right?"

"Yes."

Silence stretched between them. He exhaled shakily, bracing himself for whatever comfort she was about to offer – except before he could even process her question, there was a hard knock against his door.

"Are you–?" His voice, laced with disbelief.

"Open the door."

He heard it both coming through the door and the phone. 

His heart stuttered. With hesitant steps, he unlocked the door, and the moment it swung open, she was there – standing in front of him, eyes scanning his face, taking him in. And he must’ve looked like shit, because she didn’t hesitate.

The door clicked shut behind them as she dropped the handbag and stepped forward, wrapping herself around him. No hesitation, no questions. Just warmth.

He froze for half a second before melting into it, arms tightening around her, his cheek resting against the top of her head. Her touch was comforting. She smelled like home. Like the one place where nothing hurt.

She buried her face in his chest as she spoke softly. "You are none of the things internet trolls make you out to be. Your family and friends are rooting for you every time you cross that line, whether it’s P6 or DNF. Your team? They believe in you, you weren’t offered the seat by mistake or pure luck, it was your skill that guaranteed that. Carlos?" She hesitated for a beat. "He’s extremely proud to have you as a teammate, you keep him on his toes, and he’s worried sick about you."

His brows furrowed. "Carlos?"

"Before you say anything, I’ve been keeping in touch with him since you introduced us in Silverstone, he was just keeping an eye on you. How do you think I knew which room to go to?" She let out a small chuckle. "He cares about you, Lan. We all do." 

He didn’t respond. He didn’t have to. He just held on tighter, like letting go would send him spiraling again.

"This bullshit will pass. Don’t let them win. You don’t shut them up by stepping down, Lan. You do it by proving them wrong."

She could feel his breathing slow, the way his shoulders – usually burdened with the weight of the world – dropped ever so slightly. Maybe things wouldn’t miraculously get better overnight. Maybe the doubt wouldn’t disappear in a snap. 

But he still felt the fragile sense of ease building in his chest. 

[eggrollforyou]

Wait for Me

Zoro x F!reader x Law

Summary: you, a fellow Straw Hat, and the crew are separated at Sabaody. Saved by Law, you have to decide if you’ll accept his help or cut your losses and handle things on your own until your crew reunites.

CW: MDNI, NSFW, Angst, Canon divergent, eventual smut, AFAB reader, use of Y/N, hidden baby trope (kinda? Not by choice lol), descriptions of violence, blood, and vomit, pregnant reader

A/N: Hi again everyone! I had this story pop up into my head and decided I wanted to see where it goes. I hope you enjoy it as much as I have enjoyed writing it! Once again, I don’t know what I’m doing. This is barely proofread. Reader’s thoughts are in italics

Series masterlist : Next chapter

Chapter One

The sounds of fighting, smell of smoke and blood, and screams fill the air around you. Your chest is tight as you start to break down in a coughing fit. Your body, aching and exhausted. 

It’s hard to tell anything that’s going on around you with your vision blurring and ears ringing. Your lungs burn as you struggle to breathe and climb out from under the rubble in the aftermath of fighting a Pacifista. “EVERYBODY RUN AWAY AND LOOK AFTER YOURSELVES!” you hear Luffy scream somewhere amongst the settling dust. 

Your heart sinks, Where's Zoro?! you think to yourself in a panic. He wouldn't tell you the extent of his pain, but you knew he still wasn't healed from Thriller Bark. Despite your best efforts to get him to just take it easy and heal, he still operated as he wished. Seeing Usopp carrying Zoro off, you felt better. Everyone was trying to retreat. There was no way you could take on an Admiral, Sentomaru, AND Kuma. Especially with Zoro now down.

There was no opportunity for you to worry about him more than any of the other crew members. You had to get out and off this god forsaken archipelago. As Rayleigh continued to save your asses, fighting Kizaru, you used every last drop of adrenaline in your system to run. Your heart pounding in your chest, blood rushing so loud your ears were roaring, your arms and legs burning as they expend what little energy you can muster. And suddenly, you stop, watching in terror as Kuma touches Zoro, and he disappears. 

Bile rises up in your throat as your face turns hot. Your eyes burn as they well up with tears. You hear Luffy yelling at Kuma. Where is he?! What did he do to him? One by one, you watch in horror as each of your crew mates disappear. “Run! Please, run!” Luffy yells at you, his eyes wide with fear, urgency, and anger.

Having been thrown to the side when Chopper used his rumble ball, you turn on your heel and run. Hot tears streaking your face. We'll be back…. we're meeting back here right?! Your body is moving faster than your mind could process. You are just running, you have to stay safe and alive if you were going to help the rest of the crew, wherever they were. You hear a crash beside you, parts of a building crumbling and your vision goes black.

You feel your skin heating up from sunshine pouring in from the porthole next to you before you open your eyes. Your body feels so heavy and your head is pounding. You feel as if you’ve been run over. You stir, trying to bring your hands up to rub the sleep from your eyes, but something stops you. You feel a presence and as if he knew you sensed him, he speaks. “You shouldn’t move too much. You’re safe now, but you were very badly injured. You really should be more careful, considering your condition.”

You recognize that voice, deep with a tinge of condescension. You open your eyes, Shit….how’d I end up here? This is a rival crew…how can I really be safe? “Trafalgar Law, right?” you question. Law sees your distrust, “You’re a Straw Hat, right? We found you, halfway buried in rubble. You really should take it easy. I did what I could, but you have a couple broken ribs. Had to stitch you up in places, but you should heal fine as long as you listen to Doctor’s orders,” his stare bores into you, as if he’s trying to figure you out as well.

“W-why did you help me? We’re rival crews, you had no obligation to do anything.” What the hell did he mean considering my condition?!

“I”m not going to lie, if it were up to me, I would’ve left you, but it appears my crew aren’t as heartless as I am. My first mate insisted,” he shrugs. What an ass…and suddenly, you remember everything. You spring up, far too quickly, and nearly crumble as a result. “Tch! I told you to fucking take it easy!” Law reprimands as he helps you sit up without passing out. “Where is my crew?! Where am I? How long have I been out?!” Your breathing is clipped, panic settles in your chest as you try not to hyperventilate, least of all in front of a rival. Did I miss everyone? Are they ok? Did they make it back?

“Hey, hey….you’re Y/N, right?” Law’s voice immediately is softer, trying to calm you down. He reaches his hand out to your shoulder to help ground you. Your eyes dart to him, he falters for a moment. He sees the sheer panic on your face. “Yea….Y/N….i-it’s Y/N.”

“Y/N, I need you to take a deep breath. I’ll answer all your questions, but you really should listen when I tell you, you need to take it easy. It’s not just you, you’re worrying about anymore, remember that.”

“What the hell do you mean, it’s not just me?!” His face goes blank. “D-do you not know?” 

“Know what?! Out with it, what the fuck are you talking about, Law?”

He runs his hand down his face in utter disbelief, “You’re…pregnant.”

“Pregnant?!” you pause, “What the fuck do you mean, I’m pregnant?!” you stare at Law in disbelief. He pinches the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut with a deep sigh. “I said what I said. During my scans when triaging your injuries….y-you’re pregnant, ok? It’s early, you’re probably 7 or 8 weeks along if you didn’t figure it out on your own.” He pauses, watching you as you lean back, trying to process this news. Your thoughts are running a mile a minute.

 There’s no way I can be pregnant, right? I mean….when was my last cycle? It begins to dawn on you that there’s a bigger chance that he’s right. Your hand goes down to your belly and suddenly you feel sick. You lurch forward and throw up over the edge of the bed onto the floor. 

“Tch! Hey! Give me some warning!” Law yells as he grabs a trash can, popping it onto the side of the bed next to you. He walks to the door, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck, “I’ll be right back, don’t make any more messes, ok? I’m going to grab a mop. STAY HERE,” he points at you as he closes the door behind him. Your chest begins to flush and you feel lightheaded as you feel like you’re overheating. 

In the matter of a few days, you think, you’ve lost everyone close to you. You have no idea where your crewmates are, if they’re even alive. You’re supposed to meet back up at Sabaody but you don’t know where you are or how long you’ve been gone, and now you’re supposed to just accept the fact that you’re also pregnant!? 

Warm tears begin to build in your eyes as the gravity of everything hits you. “Z-zoro,” you whisper as you begin to sob. He HAS to be okay…he has to be. He can’t leave me alone like this. I can’t do this without him….without my crew. You lie down on your side and curl into yourself. Trying to disappear.

You don’t hear Law return between your cries. He freezes as he walks in as he sees you crying, unsure what to do. He awkwardly clears his throat, startling you. You sniffle and work quickly to clean your face as best you could, not wanting Law to see you like this. You close your eyes and try to will yourself to return to Sabaody.

He didn’t say anything as he cleaned up your sick. You both sat in silence as you tried to hold back the sobs threatening to spill from your throat as you felt your heart wrenching. He placed the mop back into the bucket of water. He felt bad, helpless. He didn’t know what to say as he saw your body shaking from trying to withhold your tears. He cleared his throat, “U-um…I’m gonna go. I should let you rest. I’ll, uh, be in the office down the hall if you need anything.” You didn’t respond knowing if you tried to thank him, it wouldn’t be words coming from your throat.

Instead, you spent the rest of the evening contemplating what you were going to do next as the stray tears rolled down your face, until you had no more left to cry.

Next Chapter

Phew! This has been sitting in my drafts for ages now. I want to keep writing it but I haven't had a chance to work on the rest so I think posting it will force me to carve some time. This semester will be the death of me, just in time to graduate right?! 😭 I hope you enjoyed this first chapter! I have the ending originally intended for this story, BUT I will include an alternate ending.

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Tags: @shy-writer-999 @dreamcastgirl99

MDNI divider by @cafekitsune

Heart dividers by @saradika-graphics

[violetszn]

two

summary ✩ you’ve noticed vi sneaking out at night for a while now, but when you finally ask about it, she just smirks and invites you along. you don’t expect to end up in a crowded club with her hands on your waist, or for the teasing to turn into something else entirely, blurring the lines between roommates and something else.

warnings ✩ 5.4k ✩ swearing, innuendos (a common pattern w/ vi), drinking, vi gets kinda touchy, reader gets pretty drunk

notes ✩ popping in to mention that i’m also posting this on ao3 under the same name <33

⇦ chapters ⇨

The smell of pizza and wings drifts through the apartment, making your stomach growl as you sink into the couch. You’d just gotten home from a tutoring session that went by surprisingly smoothly. Vi plops down beside you, tossing you a plate before grabbing a slice for herself. She grins, watching you grab your own slice.

"So," she says between bites, "how was class today? And… tutoring, right?"

You exhale, slumping against the cushions. "Long. Mondays drain the life out of me, but yeah. Tutoring wasn’t too bad, honestly. My student actually aced the exam we’ve been studying for, so that’s a win."

Vi smirks. "Bet that felt like a miracle."

"You have no idea," you say, rubbing your eyes sleepily. "What about you? How was your day?"

She leans back, stretching her legs out. "Not bad. Classes were fine, same old, same old. Spent the last hour giving a lesson to one of my students. She’s getting better, but her footwork still needs work. Keeps dropping her guard, which is just begging to get knocked out."

You raise an eyebrow. "Sounds rough."

Vi shrugs, biting into a wing. "Tough love. If she wants to learn, she’s gotta be ready to take a hit. It’s how I got better."

You shake your head, amused. The conversation flows easily after that, carrying on through dinner until eventually, the night winds down.

Vi stands, stretching her arms over her head, muscles flexing under the soft apartment lighting. She lets out a quiet sigh as she relaxes, then turns her gaze on you, a lazy smirk tugging at her lips.

"Alright, I’m heading to bed," she says, stepping closer. Close enough that you can pick up the faint scent of her soap, her subtle woodsy, vanilla scent that just screams her.

But she doesn’t move away.

Instead, she tilts her head slightly, eyes flickering over you in a way that makes your skin warm. "You should get some sleep too, trouble. Hate to see you all worn out like this," she muses, voice dipping just slightly. Then, after a beat, she grins. "Well… maybe not hate it. The tired look is kinda hot on you. Maybe… I should wear you out more often?"

Your brain short-circuits. Did she just…?

You can feel the heat creeping up your neck, but before you can think of a response — hell, before you can even process what kind of response would be appropriate — Vi runs her fingers up your hand, her touch slow, deliberate. Then, with one last amused glance, she steps away, disappearing into her room.

You just stand there. Frozen. Flustered. Why’s the room suddenly so hot?

You let out a slow breath, gripping the edge of the counter before dragging yourself toward your bedroom. Once inside, you shut the door and lean against it, pressing your palms over your face.

God, how does she always leave you so flustered?

Shaking your head, you crawl into bed, snuggling up under the covers. Sleep comes quickly, your body sinking into much-needed rest.

Thud.

You jolt awake, heart hammering at the sudden noise from the living room. Your mind scrambles, still heavy with sleep, but a hint of anxiety creeps in at the thought of something – someone — being out there.

Logically, you know the chances of a break-in are slim to none. The apartment is secure, the locks in place. And besides, there’s a hot, strong woman sleeping in the room across from yours. Nothing would happen to you with Vi around… right?

Still, your nerves buzz as you quietly slip out of bed, stepping toward your door and peering out. The apartment is dim, shadows stretching across the floor under the glow of the streetlights outside. You move toward Vi’s door, knocking softly.

"Vi?"

No answer.

A small, uneasy knot twists in your stomach. You hesitate for only a second before pushing the door open.

"Hey, Vi, did you…?" Your voice trails off.

The room is empty. The bed is untouched, the sheets still smooth from when she made them earlier. Your pulse kicks up a notch. She’s gone. There’s no sign of her anywhere in the apartment.

You quickly retreat to your room, reaching for your phone, ready to call her, but then you hear it. The faint click of the front door opening. Slowly and carefully, you peek out through the crack in your door.

Vi steps inside, moving with the kind of careful precision that screams don’t get caught. She’s trying to be quiet, trying to slip back in unnoticed. 

You watch, stunned, as she closes the door behind her and exhales softly. Her movements are practiced, like this is routine. Like she’s done this before.

She heads your way.

You barely have time to pull back, quietly shutting your door and throwing yourself back into bed. Your heart pounds as you force your breathing to even out.

You hear her bedroom door open, then close. Whatever she was doing, she clearly didn’t want to be caught. She doesn’t owe you an explanation, but… something about this doesn’t sit right.

You swallow hard, staring up at the ceiling. You’ll ask her about it in the morning. For now, you pretend you don’t know. You aren’t even sure why you feel so… odd about the entire situation. Maybe she needed to go help someone with something? Or maybe she needed to clear her head? 

The number of completely normal reasons for her to be out so late should be enough for you to just shut your eyes and get over it. Unfortunately, your brain has other plans and you spend the rest of the night racking your brain for the most plausible explanation.

The next morning, everything feels normal. Or at least, as normal as it can feel after you spent the night convincing yourself of the most out-of-pocket reasons for Vi sneaking out late.

Vi moves around the kitchen, fixing herself a quick breakfast while you go about your usual routine. There’s no sign of the lack of sleep from last night, no stiffness in her movements, no indication that she snuck out at all. If you hadn’t seen it with your own eyes, you’d never suspect a thing.

Still, the question lingers in the back of your mind.

You wait until the moment feels right, casual enough that it won’t raise her defenses. As you rinse out your glass, you finally go for it.

"Hey, so… where were you last night?"

Vi, who had been mid-bite of her toast, pauses just slightly. It’s quick, so quick you might’ve missed it if you weren’t watching her closely.

You continue, keeping your tone light. "I heard something fall, so I went to check, but you were gone."

For a moment, she just chews, like she’s thinking about her answer. Then, with an easy shrug, she swallows and says, "Couldn't sleep. Went out for a run to clear my head."

Her response is smooth, effortless. It should make sense. Vi is an athlete; a late-night run wouldn’t be out of the question. But the way she says it, like it’s been prepared in advance, makes something in your gut twist.

You lean against the counter, arms crossed. "At, like, three in the morning?"

Vi smirks, grabbing her glass. "Yeah. Helps me burn off excess energy." She takes a sip, then raises a brow at you. "Why? You worried about me, cupcake?"

Your face warms at the nickname, but you don’t let it distract you. You give her a look. "I mean, kinda? It was the middle of the night and that’s usually when it gets a little rougher out there. A little risky, don’t you think?"

Vi just chuckles, shaking her head. "I can handle myself."

She says it like it’s obvious, like there’s not a single doubt in her mind. And maybe there isn’t. You exhale, watching her, trying to decide if you should push further. But the way she’s looking at you; half amused, half like she knows you won’t get anything out of her, tells you it’d be a losing battle.

"Just… be careful. Please," you say finally.

Vi grins, reaching over to nudge your arm with her knuckles. "Always am. Don’t worry, cupcake."

Vi’s grin lingers, but there’s something unreadable in her gaze as she watches you. Maybe she’s waiting to see if you’ll push further. Maybe she’s already thinking of a way to shut you down if you do.

But you shake your head at yourself, exhaling a quiet laugh. “A walk makes sense though, sorry. You didn’t even have to answer that — I don’t know what I was thinking.” You awkwardly scratch the back of your neck, suddenly feeling ridiculous for even bringing it up. “You don’t owe me any explanation about where you were, you’re an adult. Just… I wanted to make sure you were alright.”

Something flickers across Vi’s face. Something softer, less guarded.

“Yeah?” she muses, tilting her head slightly.

You nod. “Yeah.”

For a second, she just looks at you, like she’s trying to figure you out. Then, with a small smirk, she leans back against the counter, arms crossing over her chest. “That’s sweet, gorgeous. Didn’t know you cared so much.”

Your face heats up immediately. “I—I don’t—”

Vi laughs, pushing off the counter and stretching her arms over her head. “Relax, I’m messing with you,” she teases. “But really, I appreciate it.”

“You are… a menace, Violet,” I huff, turning off the sink as I finish cleaning my dishes. It’s quick and almost unnoticeable but Vi pauses, her cheeks flushing a soft shade of pink at the sound of her name coming from your lips. Normally she preferred Vi over anything but there’s just something about the way you sound saying her name. Violet. 

“Yeah, you love it, cupcake.”

She sends you a wink, playing off her own flustered reaction, before grabbing her glass and strolling off. She  leaves you standing there, heart hammering, still trying to process the way she always manages to leave you flustered.

A few more months of living with Vi, and the pattern is impossible to ignore.

She sneaks out often, seemingly always at night, always returning at some ungodly hour, trying – and failing – to act like she’d been there the whole time. By now, you know the signs. The way her door creaks open around 1 AM. The barely-there sound of her footsteps sneaking through the apartment. The quiet shuffle of the front door unlocking, then locking again. And then, without fail, she stumbles back in around 4 AM, sore and bruised in ways she never was the night before.

You’d let it go before. But now? Now it’s getting worrisome. You were scared she was doing something that could get her seriously hurt. Vander did say she could get herself into trouble sometimes. Was this it?

It’s the weekend, and the two of you are sitting on the couch, controllers in hand, having just finished a few intense rounds of a video game. Vi stretches, letting out a satisfied groan, then tosses her controller onto the coffee table.

“Damn, trouble, I almost had you that time.”

“You really didn’t, Violet,” you tease, nudging her with your knee.

Vi lets out an almost bashful laugh, turning her attention to the controller in her hand in an attempt to hide the blush that burns along her cheeks. She sets the controller on the coffee table, about to get up and head to her room, but you stop her before she can.

“Hey, Vi? Can we talk… please?”

She pauses, brow raising slightly, before flopping back down onto the couch beside you. “That sounds serious.”

You hesitate, shifting slightly. “So… you remember that night a few months ago? When you were out super late and I asked about it, and you said you were on a walk?”

Vi leans back, giving you a slow nod, like she knows where this is going.

You take a breath. “That… wasn’t true, was it?”

A flicker of something unreadable flashes in her eyes, but she keeps her expression neutral.

“You’re out nearly every weekend, Vi. You always come back late, sometimes looking like you got into something you shouldn’t have.” You look at her earnestly. “I’m not asking you to tell me everything, I just… I just wanna know that you’re safe. That you’re not in any danger or doing something that could get you seriously hurt — it’s honestly kind of freaking me out, not knowing what you’re up to or if you’re alright.”

For a moment, she says nothing. Her brows are furrowed, her lower lip tugged between her teeth as she anxiously chews at it. Then, a slow, sheepish smile tugs at her lips.

“Oh! You… noticed that, huh?” She lets out a short, awkward laugh, rubbing the back of her neck. “Look, it’s not what it looks like. I just… I like to go clubbing sometimes. A lot. Super late.”

You blink. 

“Clubbing?”

Vi shrugs, forcing an easy grin. “Yeah. It’s kind of a guilty pleasure of mine. I like blowing off steam after a long week. Just dancing, drinking, y’know, nothing too wild.” She chuckles, shaking her head. “I sneak around ‘cause I don’t wanna wake you or convince you I’m some kind of party animal or whatever, but I guess I’m not too good at that, huh?”

It’s obviously a lie. There’s something about the way she says it, like she’s testing whether you’ll buy it or not. But you don’t comment on it. You figure, when she’s ready she’ll tell you.

Vi leans in slightly, eyes scanning your face. “Hey, actually… why don’t I show you? The club, I mean.”

You blink. “What?”

“If you don’t believe me, come with me tomorrow night,” she says, voice laced with amusement. “I’ll prove it to you. C’mon, cupcake.”

You chew on the inside of your cheek, weighing the offer. If she’s lying, then maybe this is a chance to find out what she’s really up to. And if she’s telling the truth… well, maybe a night out with Vi wouldn’t be the worst thing.

“…Alright,” you say finally, crossing your arms. “But if I end up hating it, you owe me dessert or something.”

Vi smirks, eyes glinting with something playful. “Deal.”

She pushes herself up from the couch, stretching her arms over her head. “Guess you better make sure you have something to wear,” she teases, casting a lingering glance over you before heading toward her room. “Not that you won’t look hot no matter what you wear.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t fight the warmth creeping up your neck.

The next night, you stand in front of your mirror, smoothing your hands over your dress. It’s black, short, and hugs your body just right. Maybe a little too right. It makes you wonder why you’d even agreed to this? You’re not used to dressing like this, but if Vi is dragging you out to a club, you might as well look the part. The boots you slide on add just the right amount of edge, balancing out your outfit.

You take a steadying breath before stepping back, tilting your head as you take in your reflection. It’s fine. Totally fine. It’s just a club, and it’s just Vi. Nothing to freak out about.

Then there’s a knock on your door.

"You ready, trouble?" Vi’s voice is casual, but there’s something in her tone. Something smooth and expectant that sends a shiver down your spine. You swallow, clearing your throat before opening the door.

And you immediately regret it.

Vi is standing there, leaning against the frame like she owns the place. She’s got on a tight white top, black ripped jeans that sit just right on her hips, and of course, her usual leather jacket. Her hair has gotten long — or at least, longer than it was when you first met — strands falling past her sharp jawline, and her usual cocky smirk is nowhere to be found.

Because she’s staring at you. Hard.

Her gaze starts at your face, then drops lower, trailing down the curve of your dress, lingering on the way it clings to you. She shifts slightly, jaw tightening, before wetting her lips.

“Damn,” she mutters, voice a little rougher than usual.

Heat floods your face. "What? Is it bad? Should I change?"

“No! Fuck, no.” Vi lets out a slow breath, shaking her head like she’s trying to clear it. ”Don’t change. It’s nothing, just… shit, hot stuff, you tryna kill me?"

Your stomach flips, but you cross your arms, feigning nonchalance. "Hot stuff? Really?"

Vi pushes off the doorframe, stepping in closer — far closer than she needs to. "Absolutely." Her voice is low, almost teasing, but there’s something else in it too, something that makes your breath hitch.

You huff out a laugh, trying to ignore the way her presence sends sparks across your skin. “I could say the same about you.” Your eyes flick down, taking in her outfit. How the snug white top stretches across her chest, the way her jacket frames her broad shoulders. You shake your head, looking back up at her. “You don’t even have to try, do you, Violet?”

Vi grins, shifting her weight. “Oh, but I definitely did tonight.”

Something shifts between you. The air thickens, crackling with an energy neither of you are acknowledging, but both of you are feeling. You can see it in the way Vi's eyes darken slightly, the way her fingers twitch like she wants to reach out.

For a split second, it almost feels like she will.

But then she clears her throat, stepping back. "C’mon, hot stuff," she says, the usual teasing lilt returning to her voice. "Let’s go have some fun, hmm?"

And just like that, the moment passes, but the heat lingers. You take a steadying breath before following her out the door, heart pounding.

About twenty minutes later, you step into the club, the heavy bass vibrating through your chest, flashing lights casting neon streaks over the sea of bodies moving together in rhythm. The air is thick with the scent of sweat, alcohol, and something sweet. It’s a scene you’re not quite used to, a far cry from the quiet comfort of your shared apartment.

But Vi is right beside you. And somehow, that makes it okay.

She catches the slight hesitation in your eyes as you take it all in, her grip tightening around your hand just enough to ground you. Then she leans in, her lips brushing against the shell of your ear as she murmurs, “Stick with me, okay? I won't let anything happen to you.”

The promise in her voice, low and steady, sends a shiver down your spine. Maybe it’s the warmth of her breath against your skin, or the way she keeps you close, the firm press of her body against yours as she maneuvers you both through the crowd.

Vi knows this place. It’s obvious in the way the bouncers nod at her in recognition, parting the way without question. The way she moves, effortless and in control. The way people watch her, some with curiosity, others with something deeper; respect, admiration, maybe even intimidation.

But Vi doesn’t pay them any mind. Her focus is entirely on you. She feels a rush of pride having you here with her, knowing that, at least for tonight, you’re hers.

When you reach the bar, Vi turns to face you, her blue-grey eyes glinting under the neon glow, something playful and dark swirling in them. Her lips curl into a slow, teasing grin.

“What can I get you to drink, babe?”

Your heart stutters in your chest. Maybe it’s the pet name, or the way her voice drops just enough to make the question feel like something more than casual.

You exhale, pretending she doesn’t affect you as much as she does. “Well… I don’t have class tomorrow, so… shots? I’m down for whatever.”

Vi chuckles, stepping even closer, her presence all-consuming. “That’s what I like to hear.”

You barely register her waving down the bartender because her hand rests on your knee, casual and possessive all at once, her thumb tracing absentminded circles against your skin. It’s nothing, really. Just a touch. But it sets you on fire.

And by the look in Vi’s eyes, she knows exactly what she’s doing.

After a few shots, the club’s neon lights seem warmer, the bass vibrating through your chest like a second heartbeat. You’re not drunk, not really, but the alcohol has softened the edges of everything, making you bolder, making Vi’s presence beside you feel even more electrifying.

She’s close, closer than she’s been all night. Her hand still rests on your knee, fingers idly tracing patterns against the fabric of your dress your bare thigh. Every brush of her skin against yours sends a thrill down your spine, and you don’t think she even realizes what she’s doing to you. Or maybe she does.

Vi smirks, tilting her head as she watches you. “So tell me about yourself, trouble,” she murmurs, voice dipping into something dangerously smooth, “not the stuff i already know — the stuff you wouldn’t just tell anyone. You ever do anything… crazy? Something wild? Something worthy of your nickname?”

You blink at her, cheeks already warm from the drinks and the way she’s looking at you. “Depends on what you mean by wild,” you say, swirling the rim of your shot glass.

Vi leans in slightly, her smirk deepening. “Surprise me.”

The alcohol clouds your judgment just enough to let the words slip free before you can second-guess them. “Well… there was this one time when I was eighteen. I snuck a girl I was seeing into my room so we could… y’know.”

Vi raises an eyebrow, amused. “Y’know?” she echoes, her lips twitching.

You roll your eyes, feeling your face heat. “Shut up, don’t make me spell it out.”

Vi chuckles, her fingers drumming lightly against your thigh as her hand slowly inches up your bare leg. “So? Did you get away with it?”

You huff out a laugh, shaking your head. “Not even close. My parents caught us. But after the night I’d had, I didn’t even care.”

The second the confession leaves your lips, you realize how easily you just handed Vi that piece of information. You snap your mouth shut, your stomach flipping with regret.

Vi, of course, looks absolutely delighted. “Damn, trouble,” she drawls, reaching for another shot. “Guess the nickname does fit, huh?”

You groan, grabbing your own shot just to avoid her gaze. “I’m not—”

Vi hums, unconvinced, tipping her glass back effortlessly. When she sets it down, she leans in, her breath warm against your skin. “Maybe not anymore,” she muses, her voice like a slow burn. “But I bet I could change that.”

Your breath catches.

A few shots later, you’re practically floating. Your skin tingles, your cheeks are flushed, and your thigh feels electric from the slow, teasing strokes of Vi’s hand beneath your dress. Her hand had gotten further up as the night went on, sending sparks through your entire body.  You’re caught up in conversation, half words, half laughter, all drowned in the warmth of her presence, when a familiar beat pulses through the club speakers.

“Oh, fuck, I love this song!” you perk up, eyes lighting up with excitement.

Vi smirks, giving your thigh one last slow squeeze before pulling her hand away. “Yeah?” she murmurs, standing to her full height. Then, with an outstretched hand and a glint in her eye, she challenges, “Come dance with me, then, gorgeous.”

You don’t hesitate.

The second your fingers lace with hers, Vi tugs you onto the dance floor, weaving through the crowd like she’s done this a million times before. The bass vibrates beneath your feet, bodies pressing in from every side, but none of it matters. Not when Vi suddenly spins you around and pulls you flush against her, your back meeting the firm heat of her front.

Her hands find your waist, fingers splayed wide, keeping you close as she starts to move. A slow grind, perfectly in sync with the pulsing rhythm. Her breath ghosts against your ear, hot and teasing.

“Just follow my lead,” she murmurs, her lips grazing the sensitive skin beneath your ear.

Your body responds before your brain even catches up. You match her movements effortlessly, hips swaying in perfect rhythm with hers. Her hands roam over your curves, guiding you with every shift and roll of your body against hers. The club fades away; no flashing lights, no lingering gazes, just the heat between you and Vi, the way she feels like she was made to hold you like this.

If it weren’t for the alcohol blurring every trace of your thoughts, you’d be full-on panicking. Because this? This is so far beyond platonic. But that thought never even has a chance to take root. All you can focus on is the song vibrating through your chest and Vi’s hands keeping you pressed so deliciously close.

Then, she twirls you around, your chest colliding with hers.

Your breath catches, arms instinctively looping around her neck, and fuck, she’s so close. Every inch of her is against you, her grip firm at your waist, her breath fanning across your lips. The tension thrums like a live wire between you, thick enough to drown in.

“You’re…” Your words trail off as your head tilts, resting against her shoulder, your lips just barely brushing the skin of her neck. “You’re so hot, Violet,” you murmur, your voice slow and dreamy, drunk on liquor and Vi all at once.

Her fingers flex at your waist, gripping you tighter. And before you can even think — before you can question yourself — your lips graze her neck in the lightest, briefest kiss.

It’s barely a whisper of contact. Soft. Fleeting. But it sets something off in Vi.

Her grip tightens. For a moment, Vi is stunned, her body stiffening as your lips trail up her neck. She squeezes your hips, then her hand finds the back of your neck, tugging you forward to press your lips against hers. The kiss is a shock, like a jolt of electricity crackling down her spine, setting every nerve ending alight. But the surprise is fleeting, melting away as a wave of something deeper, something raw and intoxicating, washes over her.

Her eyes flutter shut as she gives in, her body relaxing, molding against yours as she returns the kiss with slow, deliberate hunger. One hand slides into your hair, fingers tangling through the strands as she tugs you impossibly closer. A low, deep sound rumbles in her throat, barely audible over the pulsing music, but it’s there. A sound of want, of need.

She tastes the lingering tang of alcohol on your lips, but beneath it, there’s something else, something that’s purely you, and it’s addicting. The heat of your body against hers, the press of your curves against her lean frame, has her pressing in deeper, her free hand gripping your waist, anchoring herself to the moment.

When the kiss finally breaks, Vi pulls back just slightly, her breath coming hard and uneven. Her blue-gray eyes are dark and lidded, pupils blown wide with something neither of you are ready to name. Her lips are parted, still tingling from the ghost of your touch, and for a moment, it’s like the rest of the world doesn’t exist.

“Fuck, you’re gonna be the death of me, baby.”

Just as you're about to pull Vi in for more, a sharp, mocking voice cuts through the haze.

"Seriously, Vi? Her?" the girl scoffs, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as she eyes you up and down, her jealousy barely masked by a smirk. You’re not quite thinking straight but you’re fairly certain this girl is in your psych class. "Didn’t think you’d go for her type. Thought you liked a challenge."

Vi lets out a slow breath, her grip on your waist tightening for just a second before she turns, her expression unreadable. "Savi," she says flatly, "you really gotta move on. It’s getting sad."

Savi huffs a laugh, tilting her head as she eyes Vi with a smirk. “Move on? Please. I just didn’t realize you were into desperation.” Her gaze flicks to you, full of thinly veiled disdain. “Guess everyone has their weaknesses, huh?”

Vi’s jaw flexes, but she doesn’t take the bait. Instead, she exhales sharply through her nose before turning back to you. “C’mon, baby. Let’s head back home before our night’s completely ruined.” Her voice is steady, but you can feel the irritation thrumming beneath her words.

As Vi starts to lead you away, Savi calls out one last time, her voice dripping with amusement. “That’s cute, you know. You two playing house together.” She laughs, shaking her head. “Bet that’ll end well.”

Vi doesn’t even glance back, but you feel the way her muscles tense under your touch, her grip on your waist just a little firmer as she guides you toward the exit.

By the time you both step out of the club, the night air hitting your skin, Vi seems completely sobered up. You, on the other hand, are still feeling the effects of the alcohol, your movements a little slower, your thoughts a little hazy.

Vi stays close the entire ride home, her touch never straying too far — her knee brushing against yours, her hand on your thigh, her fingers occasionally grazing your own. It’s grounding, comforting, and you lean into it without a second thought.

When you finally make it back to your apartment, Vi gently guides you to sit on the couch before disappearing into the kitchen. A moment later, she’s pressing a glass of water into your hands, sitting beside you with an expectant look. “Drink,” she says simply.

You take a few slow sips before glancing at her. “So… Savi,” you start, watching the way Vi’s expression immediately shifts to irritation. “What’s her deal?”

Vi exhales, running a hand through her hair. “She’s just some girl who doesn’t seem to get that I’m not into her,” she says, shaking her head. “I turned her down nicely the first time, but she doesn’t know when to quit. She’s convinced I’m playing hard to get or whatever and that I’m desperate for her attention.”

You hum, taking another sip of water before meeting Vi’s gaze. “You don’t seem to mind my attention, Violet,” you point out, a teasing edge to your voice. The alcohol had clearly not worn off.

Vi smirks. “That’s different, trouble,” she murmurs.

Your body moves before your mind fully catches up, the alcohol still clouding your better judgment. You straddle her lap, hands resting on her shoulders as you lean in, your lips just a breath away from hers. “Different how?” you whisper.

Vi inhales sharply, her hands instinctively finding your waist, her grip firm but not pulling you closer. For a moment, she looks tempted, her eyes flickering to your lips. But then, with a reluctant groan, she pulls back just enough to put space between you. “Not like this,” she murmurs. “I’m not doing this while you���re drunk.”

You pout slightly, but Vi just chuckles, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “But,” she continues, her voice low and promising, “if you wake up tomorrow, sober, and you still want me?” Her fingers trace absent patterns against your waist, sending a shiver down your spine. “Then, sweetheart… I’m all yours.”

“Promise?” you mumble, resting your head on her shoulder. She lets out a soft laugh and you feel her lips press against your forehead.

“Promise.”

As sleep tugs at your eyelids, you barely register the way your body sags against Vi’s. Your head rests against her shoulder, the warmth of her body lulling you closer to unconsciousness. Vi lets out a soft chuckle, shaking her head.

"Alright, sweetheart," she murmurs, effortlessly slipping her arms beneath you. Before you can even protest — not that you have the energy to — she lifts you into her arms with ease.

You hum something incoherent, nuzzling closer into her as she carries you to your room. Vi nudges the door open with her foot before gently laying you down onto your bed. As she pulls the blanket over you, her gaze lingers on your face, softening. With a quiet sigh, she brushes her knuckles lightly against your cheek before stepping away.

tags ✩ @jupitism @fungalinfectionyeast @mk-a-1 @rhian88 @baylegend6 @lovely-wisteria @antobooh @arahiraaai @vxtanne31 @starletfemme @daughterofthemoons-stuff @rosesgaloree @sillyloafff @mellohatesyou @violetwifey @ilysupercorp @eriiwaii @elliesngirl @avalovesmus1c @pryncess123

[viperineee]

thinking about mean!reader and sub!abby again | modern au

part two of this

cw: more mean!reader cause it does not leave my brain, sub!abby, semi-public sex, kinda freeuse!abby, office sex, fingering, hair pulling, degradation, strap-on sex, back shots with abby cause god yes please, kissing finally, overstim

it’s been about two weeks since you fucked abby in her apartment. she hasn’t stopped thinking about it since, every time she thinks about it her boxers get damp with a little wet spot. she ended things with the marketing girl, now spending her time walking past your cubicle. she’s somehow gotten more insufferable, wanting you to fuck the little brains she had out once more.

you sat at your desk, staring at your computer. you were already in a shitty mood, your period ended three days ago and you’ve been extremely horny. and since masturbating isn’t helping you this time around, your fuse was shorter this week. with abby upping your workload, you were beyond fed up. so, you waited til the end of the day, when everyone left and the office was empty, to walk to abby’s office.

she was doing paperwork, and when you pushed open her door, she couldn’t help the way her heart skipped a beat. her eyes looked at the purse you carried, but she tore her attention away as you shut the door, locking it behind you and approaching her. without a word, you grab the collar of her shirt, pulling her up from her chair.

“every time i think you can’t get fucking worse, you find my last nerve and line dance on it.” you swipe all of the stuff off of her desk with no regard for it’s importance. you took a fistful of her shirt, pulling her close and crashing your lips onto hers. she was struggling to keep up with the ferocity you kissed her with, and it only pissed you off more. you bring your lips down to her neck, harshly sucking dark marks into the freckled skin as she whimpered.

“shut up, anderson. i’m not in the mood to hear your fucking voice.” you say, sinking your teeth into the skin before pulling away. she nodded, and your hand snakes down her chest, harshly groping her tits through her top. in the back of your mind, you felt the small amount of enjoyment you got from how they fit into your hand. you wouldn’t ever admit that out loud though.

you tug at her shirt, watching the buttons fall onto the floor. you push up her sports bra, thumb and index finger pinching her nipple. poor girl couldn’t help the gasp that left her throat at your roughness. “you just don’t fucking listen.” you shake your head, palm smacking her tit harshly before making quick work of her pants. at least her brain was quick to process your silent instructions, kicking her shoes off and stepping out of her pants.

with your hands gripping the flesh of her hips, you push her onto the top of her desk. abby leaned back on her elbows, face flushed a light shade of pink. “you’re so easy, abby. you’d probably let everyone on the floor fuck if it meant your pussy would get filled.” you scoff, pulling her boxers down and letting them hang off of one of her ankles.

“n-no, i wouldn’t.” she spoke up, and you slapped her cunt, watching her clench around nothing but air. “didn’t i say i didn’t want to hear you? why don’t you ever just shut the fuck up and follow directions?” you ask her, rhetorically of course. gathering the slick from her pussy on the tips of your index and middle finger, you glide them up to her clit, circling the bud. her head fell back, and her hips began to grind against your fingers.

your forearm pressed against her lower stomach, keeping her as still as possible. “stop moving. you should be grateful i wanna fuck you anyway. you’re probably too dumb to fuck yourself, huh? always need someone doing the work. where are your manners?” you ask her, using the slick from her dripping pussy as lube, pushing your middle and index finger inside her hole. you look up at her, watching her tits jiggle with every thrust of your fingers. her eyes were glazed over with lust, bottom lip pulled between her teeth.

you rolled your eyes, circling her clit with your thumb. “you can speak now.” you told her, and she practically fell apart. pathetic, high pitched moans pulled from her throat. “thank-thank you, shitttt, thank you so much. needed you fuckin’ me so bad.” she keened, clawing at the desk. your arm moved from her stomach, hiking your skirt up and pulling your panties down.

you prop one leg on the desk, placing your pussy directly on her thigh. she watched you, and somehow you using her thigh to get yourself off made her orgasm teeter near the edge. you felt her clench around your fingers, her walls signaling her impending orgasm. “so help me god, abby, you better fucking hold it.” you warn her, rutting against her thigh quickly.

the sad truth was you’ve been so pent up recently, it wouldn’t take much to get you to cum. abby bit the back of her hand, trying anything to keep herself from cumming around her fingers. she knew how mean you were, and she was trying to cum today. god she was pathetic, she obeyed your every order like a dog. you were almost one hundred percent she would let you fuck her until she squirted in front of the entire office.

the thought of doing that had you bucking wildly against her thigh. thoughts about her face, fucked out and stupid, crying as you fucked her cunt raw. “fuck!” you moan, grabbing her hand and making her push her fingers into your pussy. “that’s it abby, actually doing good for such a dumb bitch. you wanna fuck my pussy? you wanna make me feel good?” you ask, and she did her best, curling her fingers until she found your g-spot.

“yes, wa-nna make you cum, please. i’ll be so good.” she begged, and you nod. “you better make me cum, then. show me you’re more than just a hole for me to fuck.” you place a hand around her throat, pressing into the sides. you couldn’t deny how good her fingers felt, and you both moaned out in sync, a pornographic harmony as you came at the same time.

you pulled your fingers out of her, tapping her clit as she leaked cum onto her desk. you got yourself off of her thigh, and as good as you felt from cumming around her fingers, you were also mad. you looked down at her, writhing against the desk, irritation in your features. you reach down, grabbing your purse.

“turn around, i don’t want to look at you.” you tell her, and she looked at you with confusion. when you pulled out the familiar black harness, abby’s thighs clamped together. you didn’t see her getting into position, so once you adjusted the harness around your hips, you grab her arm. placing your hand on the back of her neck, you place one last harsh kiss against her lips. she moaned into it, and you slid your tongue into her mouth.

“you’re nothing but a toy to me, a pussy for me to use and destroy. and you let me, shame on you.” you spit on her tits, turning her and pushing her down onto the desk. you hands grab her hips, grabbing the flesh tight enough that it left red marks. the real reason you wanted her turned around was because you didn’t want her seeing your face when you fucked her. you didn’t want her head swelling from the smile that would be on your face when you fucked her to tears.

you slid the dildo between her folds, coating it in her juices since you didn’t bring lube. and it was easier than you thought it’d be, poor girls pussy was drooling, waiting for you to fill it up again. “such a needy, sloppy pussy.” you slap one of her ass cheeks, hearing her yelp. “c’mon abby, tell me how needy your pussy is.” you smirk, knowing she couldn’t see it. she hiccups, arching her back.

“wanna be full of your cock so bad. please please please, need it so bad.” she pleaded, and as cruel as you were, you were a sucker for a bitch begging. without another word, you push the head of the cock inside of her, and that alone had her thighs trembling. “relax, anderson. so fuckin’ tight back here.” you grunt, easing the toy into her inch by inch. by the time you reached the base, her knuckles had turned white from gripping the edge of the desk.

“look at that, see you’re so much better when you’re stretched out on my cock.” you pull out until just the tip remained inside of her, smirking as you thrust it all into her in one go. her hips hit the edge of the desk, her jaw was slack, her brained going fuzzy as you began to fuck into her without a care in the world.

the sound of your hips slapping her ass mixed with the squelching of her pussy. you spread her ass cheeks, looking at the view as her pussy took every stroke you gave it. “yeah, pussy suckin’ me in so good.” you let spit drip from your mouth onto her pussy, sending her senses into a spiral. her voice got caught in her throat, only bits and pieces able to get out before the next one cut it off.

“can-can’t take it, it’s so biiiggg.” she cried out, pressing her forehead into the desk. you only increased the strength of your thrusts, the tip of your cock pressing kisses to her cervix. “cock drunk fuckin’ whores don’t get to tell me how hard i fuck them. show some gratitude, abby.” you tell her, pressing your chest against her back.

it took a minute, she almost forgot what words were. “thank-thank you for - mmmh- fuckin’ me so good. your cock- nngh, oh fuckkk,- feels so good. feel it - nnnuh- in my throat.” she pants out, voice cracking from her moans. you stood straight, holding a hand to her lower back so she could feel the pressure more in her lower stomach.

“yeah, you needed to be fucked like this, put in your fuckin’ place.” you bit your lip, and you swear to god you felt her clench around you. you grab her hair, pulling her so her back arched. “gonnna cum again, huh? letting me fuck you til you’re nothing to a dumb slut. go ahead, cum on my dick.” you tell her, one hand holding her hair and one hand wrapping around her throat.

“yeeesss , shit!” she screamed, and you caught a glimpse of her face. eyes shut, tongue poking from between her lips like an animal. her legs buckled from underneath her, and you knew she was probably getting close to her limit. but it wasn’t enough for you. no, you needed to destroy her.

your arms hook under hers, pulling her so she was pressed against your chest. you interlock your fingers behind her upper neck, the new position allowing you to fuck up into her. “yeahhhh, look at you. awww, my dicks probably touching your belly button. greedy pussy can’t live without my cock. fuckkk, taking me so well.” you say in her ear, feeling her entire body shake as you continue to fuck her. “fuck, wait! i-” her voice cut off, drool slipping from the side of her mouth.

her words became incoherent, babbling mindlessly as you used her. you focused on how her tits bounced with every stroke, her thighs inching to close. you get as close to her ear as possible. “close your thighs if you want to abby. i swear to fucking god, keep your legs spread.” she whined, but she obeyed anyway. the moment her thighs spread open, she squirted. you let out twisted giggles, watching her cover the floor and her desk. “loooook, ohh poor thing. pussys gushing, probably so overstimulated.” your voice taunted her, showing mock sympathy. you fucked her until the squirted stopped, pulling out and letting her slump against the desk.

her puffy pussy was on display from the back, and you rub between her folds, causing her to jump from your touch. “cant believe im saying this, but good girl.” you whisper, and you weren’t even sure if she heard you.

side note, it kept fuckin not saving, so a lot of stuff got deleted and i had to rewrite like four times. not a happy camper

[saintobio]

sy13 | sneak peek. a long one, kinda :)))

You could see the torment in his eyes as he looked at Sachiro, the helplessness of a father who could do nothing but watch. You just couldn’t bear the silence any longer, so you finally spoke. “Satoru… just go home.”

He froze at the sound of your voice, as if caught off guard, but quickly shook his head and wrapped your belly under a warm blanket. “Did I wake you up?”

“I can look after Sachi by myself,” you urged, disregarding his question. “You need to rest.”

But again, he refused. “No.”

“But—”

You opened your mouth to speak again, to reason with him, but before you could, Satoru’s voice cut through the air, breaking in a way you had never heard before. “Y/N, let me be a father to my kids… Please.” His voice cracked, the raw emotion spilling out as he looked at the ceiling with somber, tearful eyes. It was the heartbreak in his voice that made you realize that you were the only family Satoru had left. And it was the tremor in his hands that made you see through the trauma he had developed after he was led to believe for three years that his son had never existed. In a way, you felt responsible for the pain you had caused him, too. “Just please let me love you and our babies. Don’t take them away from me.”

For a moment, silence became your friend. Yet, the quiet that enveloped the room was more of a tender moment suspended in time as you let Satoru embrace you in his arms. You both remained there, connected by the warmth of his hand over yours, and the gentle rise and fall of his breath. He caressed your belly as if you were going to take his baby away—that if he closed his eyes, even for a second, he would wake up to see his unborn child gone. 

But then, a soft knock on the door shattered the stillness. Satoru’s grip on your hand loosened as the nurse poked her head into the room with an apologetic expression on display.

“I’m so sorry to interrupt, Mr. and Mrs. Gojou,” she began, her voice quiet and gentle, “but you have a visitor.” Satoru’s brows furrowed slightly, but before he could ask, the nurse continued, “Her name is Akemi.”

At the mention of her name, he immediately sat up, his body tense as he instinctively prepared to stand. You felt the shift in his demeanor, the way his hand slipped from yours as he moved to the edge of the bed. You stayed still for a minute, processing the sudden change, and your heart sinking at the thought of yet another intrusion by her.

You took a deep breath as you began to pull away, already bracing yourself for what was to come, and for the inevitable exit he would make. Like always. Choosing another woman over you. Choosing another woman over his own child. Of course, that’s what he’s about to do, right? You started to gather the strength to let him go, to retreat back into your thoughts, until the nurse spoke again.

“Actually,” she said, her eyes flicking between you both, “Miss Akemi wants to see you, Miss Y/N… not Mr. Gojou.”

[stylestarkey]

the debutante’s dilemma (02)

𐙚 a rafe cameron social media and irl au

pairing   rafe cameron X carrera!reader

summary   spending every summer in the outer banks with your cousin kiara carrera were always a given—a break from the chaos of new york city. but this year is different. your mom, now an organiser for the annual debutante ball, is determined to introduce you to society. and you have a dilemma: finding the perfect escort.

warnings   swearing.

navigation   masterlist 01 02 03

the sun beats down on your shoulders as kie spreads sunscreen over your back, her fingers cool against your sun-warmed skin. the beach is alive with the sound of crashing waves and distant laughter, but all you can focus on is the disbelief in her voice.

“she signed you up for the deb ball?” she asks, eyebrows raised.

you sigh, adjusting your sunglasses. “you make it sound like i’m getting drafted.”

“well… you kinda are.” she smirks, capping the sunscreen bottle with a loud snap.

you roll onto your side, propping yourself up on one elbow. “we don’t have those in new york.”

kie raises an eyebrow. “seriously? i figured they’d be everywhere.”

you shake your head. “nope. i had to look it up on tiktok—apparently, it’s like prom, but more… bridgerton.”

kie lets out a short laugh. “yeah… except it’s nothing like prom.” she pauses for a moment, then shakes her head again. “actually, no. it’s not just like prom.”

you frown. “okay… then what is it?”

kie leans back on her hands, staring out at the ocean like she’s bracing herself. “it’s like… introducing brand new hot virgins to high society,” she says, completely serious.

you nearly choke on your own spit. “what?”

she shrugs. “obviously, no one actually calls it that. they say it’s for charity, but let’s be real—it’s just an excuse for parents to show off whose daughter looks the most elegant in an overpriced dress. and more importantly, which debutante lands the most impressive escort.”

you blink at her, still trying to process. “you lost me.”

kie groans, flopping onto her back. “to sum it up, you need a hot guy with good status to escort you. preferably someone rich.”

you stare at the sky, feeling your stomach sink. “cool. only problem is, i don’t know anyone here.”

“yeah… that’s where it gets tricky.” she tilts her head toward you. “but you’re hot and cool, so it shouldn’t be too hard. plus, aunt jo is the organiser this year—she might be able to hook you up.”

you groan, covering your face with your hands. “and what exactly do i get out of this?”

kie huffs a laugh. “nothing. except maybe some kook drama. but your mom? oh, she’ll be thrilled. this’ll make her mom of the year—until the next deb ball, at least.”

you exhale sharply, already regretting everything. “classic jo.” after a beat, you sit up, narrowing your eyes at her. “wait… are you doing it?”

she snorts. “girl, do i look like the type? even my parents know i’d just embarrass myself. but don’t worry, i’ll be there… in the audience.”

you clasp your hands together, giving her your best pleading look. “please, kie.”

she barely glances at you. “nope. and besides, i can’t dance.”

your stomach drops. “…there’s a dance?”

kie stares at you like she’s just now realizing how unprepared you are. then she shakes her head, laughing under her breath.

“oh my gosh.”

you’ve been to the country club before—at least once every summer, dragged along for lunch with your mom, kie, and her parents. the visits were always the same: sitting through long conversations about golf and real estate, pretending to care about whatever expensive renovations the kooks were raving about. you never really belonged in places like this, but it was tolerable with kie by your side, the two of you sneaking glances and stifling laughter whenever someone said something ridiculous.

but today is different.

today, you’re here alone.

it’s only your first day back in the outer banks, and somehow, you’ve already found yourself stepping through the grand double doors of the country club, the cool blast of air conditioning hitting your skin. the scent of lemon polish and overpriced steak lingers in the air, mixing with the quiet clinking of glasses from the bar.

your mom is somewhere inside, already deep in conversation with a group of women who all look like they stepped out of a southern living magazine. you know if you join them, you’ll be stuck listening to gossip about charity events and vacation homes, so you slip away, weaving through the club’s pristine halls until you step outside.

the golf course stretches out before you, endless green against the bright summer sky. it’s quiet, peaceful—until a voice breaks through the stillness.

“are you gonna play, or just stand there trying to get the perfect instagram photo?”

you turn, eyes landing on two blonde-haired boys standing a few feet away. they look almost identical, but one is undeniably cuter.

great. just what you needed.

you straighten, tightening your grip on the club. “excuse me?”

the taller one steps forward like he owns the place, which—considering where you are—he probably does. “i’m rafe.”

he holds out a hand, but you hesitate. you’re not usually unfriendly, but something about him—the ease, the confidence, the way he’s watching you like he already knows exactly what you’ll do next—makes you wary. still, you don’t look away.

“o… kay?” you say, making no move to take his hand.

he exhales a short laugh before slipping both hands into his pockets, like your reaction doesn’t faze him. “rafe cameron.” he says it like it should mean something to you.

you blink at him, unimpressed. “i didn’t ask.”

behind him, his friend lets out a low whistle, grinning. “ooh.”

rafe barely glances at him before turning his attention back to you. “shut up, top.” then, with a slight tilt of his head, “do you seriously not know who i am?”

you raise an eyebrow. “should i?”

something shifts in his expression, just for a second. you can tell he’s used to being recognised, to people knowing his name before he even introduces himself.

“well—yeah.” he gestures vaguely, like that alone explains everything. “i’ve never seen you around here.”

“maybe because i’m not from here.”

his lips part like he has something to say, but before he can, your phone dings. you glance down.

you suppress a sigh, slipping the phone into your pocket. “i have to go. um… nice meeting you, rafe cameron.”

without waiting for a response, you turn on your heel and start walking back toward the club. behind you, you hear top laugh.

“dude, you should’ve asked for her name.”

their voices fade as you put more distance between you, but just before you’re out of earshot, you hear rafe mutter, “what do you think i was trying to do, dimwit?”

you don’t turn around. but for some reason, you smile.

the meeting room is everything you expected—ornate, excessive, and way too polished. the chandeliers overhead sparkle like they’ve been scrubbed with diamonds, their light bouncing off the pristine white walls. gold-trimmed chairs surround a long mahogany table, where neatly folded pamphlets and glasses of lemon-infused water sit untouched. the faint scent of roses lingers in the air, probably from the massive bouquet sitting in the center of the room.

your mom is already at the front, deep in conversation with another woman—tall, blonde, and dressed in an expensive-looking cream blazer.

six girls are already seated, their chatter a soft hum of familiar voices. they all look like they belong here—perfectly styled hair, effortless confidence, the kind of polished ease that comes from growing up in the country club scene.

you scan the room before slipping into an empty chair beside a blonde girl, who turns to you with a small, friendly smile.

before either of you can speak, the woman at the front clears her throat, drawing everyone’s attention.

“ladies, thank you all for being here,” she begins, her voice smooth and rehearsed. “it’s an honor to serve as this year’s debutante ball head organiser.”

the girl beside you leans in, dropping her voice to a whisper. “she wasn’t ‘chosen.’ she paid her way in.”

you bite back a laugh, glancing at her. she grins.

“i’m sarah, by the way.”

you shift slightly toward her. “y/n. nice to meet you.”

at the front of the room, the blonde woman continues, clearly loving the sound of her own voice. “before i forget, i’m rose cameron—”

your mind stutters over the last name. cameron?

“—and beside me is joanna carrera, who will be assisting me with this year’s event.”

your mom offers a polite smile, standing perfectly poised next to her.

rose gestures to the pamphlets in front of you. “everything you need to know is inside, but to summarise—dance rehearsals will take place every tuesday and friday in the performing arts room. if you’ve already found an escort, please inform us as soon as possible. if not, one will be assigned to you.”

you feel yourself tense at that. assigned? like a school project partner you didn’t get to pick?

rose clasps her hands together, smiling. “over the next five weeks, i expect all of you to prepare accordingly. this will be a night to remember, and i have no doubt it will be our best year yet. now, please, help yourselves to the refreshments.”

the moment she finishes, sarah leans in again. “she said a whole lot of nothing.”

you snort softly. “seriously.”

her lips curve into a smirk. “i like you already, y/n. i’ve never seen you around here—you don’t go to kildare academy?”

you shake your head. “nope. just finished my first year of university. i’m from new york, but i’m here for the summer visiting family. my mom signed me up.”

“same! my stepmom signed me up too. it’s annoying, but at least i get to wear a fancy little white dress, you know?”

you nod, feeling oddly relieved to find someone else who isn’t entirely thrilled about this. “speaking of, have you done your dress fittings yet?”

“yeah, i have an appointment tuesday morning. want to come with me?”

“sure,” you say, thankful to have an excuse to avoid dealing with it alone. then, hesitantly, “do you have an escort yet?” please say no so i can feel less stressed.

“yeah, i’m bringing my boyfriend.”

fuck.

you force a smile. “nice. i think i’m gonna ask joanna for help.”

sarah glances around the room. “i know all of them. we’re all seniors this year—except ruthie, she’s my boyfriend’s twin, same age as you. then there’s jasmine, ashley, paige, deena and kath. most of them already have escorts. i mean, they all just pass around the same guys in their friend group.”

before the meeting ends, you and sarah exchange numbers, and for the first time, you feel a little less alone in all of this.

—

the car ride home is quiet at first, the sun starting to set, casting a soft orange glow over the marsh. you stare out the window, watching as the country club disappears behind you.

your mom glances at you from the driver’s seat. “i saw you chatting with sarah cameron, bug. she’s a sweet girl.”

you turn to her. “cameron?”

she nods. “yeah, she’s rose’s stepdaughter. lovely lady.”

your stomach twists slightly. another cameron.

you hesitate before asking, “do you… um, know a rafe cameron?” you try to sound casual, but your mom picks up on the curiosity in your voice.

"why?" she asks, glancing at you with curiosity.

“i bumped into him at the golf course before the meeting.”

your mom hums, eyes still on the road. “ah. i see you’ve met your escort.”

navigation masterlist 01 02 03

note i know i said i was posting this yesterday but i went to a drake concert last night in my city and let me tell u that man is YUMMY. i'm not a big fan of my writing since english isn't my first language but once intros are done, expect more socmed!   - H <3

comment to be in the taglist — @chaengist @starkeysfile @sexualparkour @dontknow3m

[victimeyez]

Who's a Good Boy?

Chapter 20 of The Professionals with @knivestothroats

Tommy struggles to understand that Fletcher doesn't want the person he has been forced to be.

tags: long term captivity, "cooperative" whumpee, post traumatic stress disorder, collared whumpee, behavioral conditioning

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The crops in Fletcher’s garden ripened in stages across the seasons. Even as winter descended, the apple trees still held some fruit, sweet as candy when the first frosts turned the starches to sugar. 

In spite of this thoughtful design, there was no way to avoid the fact that the bulk of the crops came ready to harvest around the same time. It could mean some long days harvesting, and more pickling. Or jarring, baking, ricing, trimming, cleaning, pitting, juicing, washing, spiralizing, mashing, boiling, peeling, plucking, salting, candying, frying, drying, dancer, prancer, donner, vixen…

It was hard for Tommy to muscle through the harder physical labor, his body already a perpetual state of bruised and sore, but he could appreciate the process. He liked working with his hands; tasks that created tangible rewards, rather than just another grueling endurance of punishment. Jars lined neatly in rows, filling the root cellar shelves with salsas and jams and preserves. Greens that he had tended to with a fastidious hand made bright, fresh salads that tasted buttery and delicious only moments from field to plate. It was lively and gloriously satisfying, especially after a long day’s work.

Fletcher wasn’t teaching today, and they’d worked together since early in the morning. It had actually been kinda fun, and Tommy had a chance to study Fletcher working. The way they handled themself, the way they moved. Relaxed, confident in their work without feeling any need to show off. 

He stole glances when he could, watching Fletcher stand and straighten their back with a grimace. They put their hands on their hips to stretch back, before wiping the sweat from their brow with the back of their forearm. Loose strands of their dark hair had pulled free from their ponytail, falling around their face in darts. He admired their bronzed and freckled skin, their tank top revealing scars and tattoos. 

This is who I’m going to spend the rest of my life with.

How can I make this work? How can I be a good companion? How do I give them what they want?

The satisfaction he felt from the work and some pretty amicable time with Fletcher made him want to show them he would try. That he could be their good boy, and then maybe they wouldn’t make it all hurt so much. 

It was a long day, but they were finally finishing up and heading inside. 

“Hey, good work today,” Fletcher said, bumping their fist against Tommy’s shoulder.

“Oh! Thank you,” He beamed, managing a tired grin. He rubbed his shoulder after their hand left him, replacing it with his own for a moment before dropping it. 

Fletcher stood washing their hands in the sink, and they had their back turned to him. With effort, Tommy tried for his best casual tone. 

“Hey, I uh, I feel like this has been a pretty good, pretty good week. For us. Yeah...?” Stop stammering, goddamnit.

“Uh… yeah, I guess,” Fletcher agreed. They looked at him over their shoulder and added in a light tone, “You haven’t done anything to piss me off lately.”

“So, that’s- yeah, that’s a good sign.” He drew in a nervous breath. “I want to be a good boy.”

Fletcher quirked an eyebrow and gave an awkward chuckle before turning back to the sink to wash their hands. “Uh huh. That’s good.”

“Yeah, I mean…” He rubbed his arm. “Am I..?” 

Fletcher looked back at him over their shoulder again. They waited for him to finish his sentence with their eyebrows raised expectantly.

Tommy swallowed nervously, though he maintained a casual posture. He forced his eyes up to meet their gaze, and asked hopefully, “Am I a good boy?”

Fletcher gave him a pitying grimace before turning back to face the sink.

“Have a little dignity, dude.”

That cut deep. It him him hard enough he gasped, “Oh!”, and covered his mouth with his hand. Sucking a few shaky breaths in, he shrank back a bit from his place against the counter. 

“Look,” Fletcher said, turning back and wiping their hands on a towel. “You’re fine. Just… you don’t have to act like a dog. Or a child. You did a good job. That’s all. Okay? I told you that you did good, I’m acknowledging it, we don’t have to make it weird.”

Tommy nodded, his eyes huge and horrified. Pink to the tips of his ear, he nodded jerkily, his composure crushed. He pressed his fist tightly to his mouth, trembling. 

“Alright, just go… take a shower. You can take it easy for the rest of the night. Got it?”

He nodded again and ducked his head, quick to retreat to his room. Locking himself in the bathroom for a bit sounded just fine to him. When he went to take his collar off, he remembered with a start that he had asked Fletcher if he could sleep with them tonight. Fletcher had hemmed and hawed, but said they would think about it.

At lunch, they’d said yes. Usually they didn’t say yes until he asked again right before bed. 

Great. The one day they don’t draw it out the whole time, and the one day he wished they had. 

His stomach clenched with anxiety. He wanted more than anything to hide, but he couldn’t imagine telling Fletcher that – what? He changed his mind? They might not let him sleep next to them anymore. 

And he…did want to sleep next to them. If he faked falling asleep long enough, Fletcher would hold him, and it felt so nice to be touched without pain. When they pressed against him, their warmth helped soothe his aches, and he could finally fall asleep… he couldn’t lose that, couldn’t even risk it.

He sighed and leaned forwards towards the mirror, his fists clenched on the bathroom counter. He looked at himself for minutes, forcing his own eye contact to punish himself as he let the shame eat him alive. 

~

Tommy was unusually distant in bed that night. He clung to the edge of the bed away from Fletcher, and he was pointedly looking at his bear when Fletcher turned the lights off.

“Goodnight,” was all he whispered, and he lied eerily still in the dark. His posture was taut, forced. Fletcher knew they had run him down to utter exhaustion today; they were worn out themself. In spite of their tense companion, Fletcher started to fall asleep exceptionally early – a mere forty-five minutes after laying down.

They woke up to a trembling of the bed. It was only so lightly; a slight shiver in the dense foam of the mattress. Fletcher immediately looked for Tommy, to find he was twitching and shuddering on his side. Only then did they register the sound of gasping, muffled sobs, and they realized he was crying.

Fletcher listened for a moment, the way they listened for the thunder in the storms or the patter of the rain on the roof. They knew he had tried his best to hold off. He had his part of the blanket bunched up to his face, sobbing into the folds to dampen himself. After a few minutes, they reached over and felt his shoulder. Jerking violently on the bed, Tommy curled away from their touch. He shuddered in a few short gasps before hiccuping out,

“I don’t- hic- know- hic- why- hic- I’mlikethis!”

Fletcher leaned over and patted him, unsure of what to say.

“It’s…fine. You know, just…not my thing.”

Tommy sobbed harder. He had to struggle to collect his words for a minute.

“He - he got inside my head.” 

Tommy’s harsh gasp sounded pained.

“He made me like this. And then he just…threw me away. I don’t know what’s left of me at all.”

Fletcher didn’t know what to do. After a moment, they scooted forwards, and wrapped their arms around him. A little awkward, neither quite sure what to do.

“It’s okay,” Fletcher’s dark voice sounded almost emotionless, but Tommy could sense their honesty.

“Look,” Fletcher said. “You did what you had to do to survive. Survival isn’t pretty. You were there for five years, and you’ve only been here a few months. It’s not realistic to expect you to adjust immediately.”

“I just…” Tommy choked back another sob. “I don’t know what you want from me sometimes.”

Fletcher thought in silence for so long Tommy assumed they wouldn’t answer. When they finally spoke up, they told him, “I want you to be a person, who follows orders. When you have a job you still have to do what your boss says, but you don’t have to…”

They sighed, trailing off.

“I know it’s different, because I can hurt you and you can’t leave. But in the… the downtime, you can act normal. I know that this is different for you, but you were a person for 25 years before Caius. You just have to remember how to do it again.”

“That person…” Tommy spoke in a small voice. “I don’t think he exists anymore.”

“Then be a new one.”

“I just…” Tommy curled his bear tighter to his chest. “I just want to make you happy. So you don’t hurt me. As much, I mean, I know - I know - I know you can hurt me, wh-whenever you want to or-or feel like it, but… I knew how to make Caius happy, sometimes, so… things could be easier. So things could kinda be okay. I don’t… I don’t know how to make you happy.”

Fletcher rested their hand on his arm. 

“Listen. I will tell you when I want you to do something. Outside of that, you can do what you want, and if I don’t like what you’re doing, I will let you know. You don’t have to be tripping over yourself to anticipate what I want you to do; I will tell you. If you don’t have any assignments you can watch TV or braid a daisy chain or cook yourself food or whatever. You can speak freely, just be respectful. If you’re saying something that’s going to make me angry, I will let you know before you dig yourself into a hole. I want you to have a personality, T-Bird. You can have a personality and still take orders.”

Tommy was quiet for a long moment. Talking about it was helping him calm down, and he wasn’t shaking as much. He took a few long, labored breaths. 

“How do you find that?” Tommy asked.

He swallowed painfully against his dry throat. 

“I know it’s just…supposed to be natural. It was, before – before him. But… I don’t know. He broke me. I don’t know how to function outside the house anymore.” He sniffled sadly, but he was finally starting to relax.

“It’s just gonna take time.” Fletcher yawned.

They laid in silence. Tommy’s breathing was starting to even out, his crying giving way to exhaustion. It was the first time Fletcher could actually see him respond to being held, and it had a calming effect on him. They supposed they should not be surprised – he calmed from his nightmares when Fletcher held him close at night, pulled from their shallow sleep by the sounds he made in his. 

“Can you…be patient with me?” Tommy asked softly. 

Fletcher was no longer interested in forcing their eyes back open in the dark. 

“Hmm…” they murmured. “No. But we’ll figure it out.”

Tommy actually chuckled. Strange kid. But it had broken Tommy’s fever, and they fell asleep in a companionable silence.

~

~

~

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