#to be the best of himself and the best of himself for others

[rafescvntyclubgf]

𝓕𝓮𝓫𝓻𝓾𝓻𝓪𝓯𝓮𝔂

🇱​​🇴​​🇸​​🇹​ ​🇹​​🇮​​🇲​​🇪​

𝙻𝚘𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝙸𝚗𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙾𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚉𝚘𝚎𝚢

𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

+18 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓸𝓻 𝓓𝓝𝓘

𝙰𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚗𝚘 𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚐𝚐𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎. 𝙴𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚟𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚝, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗. 𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚒𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝚎𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛; 𝚑𝚎’𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚒𝚗 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗.

cw | smut, swearing, pet names, unprotected p in v, fingering, cum tasting, oral (female receiving), heavy angst, reader gets hit by a car

𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

You adjust the weight of your shopping bags, looping them higher up on your arm as you step out of the bookstore. The crisp February air nips at your cheeks, but the warmth of the two coffee cups in your hands makes it bearable. You balance your phone between your shoulder and ear, voice light with amusement.

“I still don’t get why you made me leave the bookstore,” you sigh.

Rafe chuckles on the other end of the line, the sound deep and familiar. “Because we got plans, princess—you’d still be in there if I let you.”

You roll your eyes as a smile slips across your lips. “Not true. I would’ve left eventually. Maybe.”

“Mhmm… Yeah, sure.”

You stroll carefully on the busy street, walking with the flow of traffic, getting in their last-minute Valentine’s Day shopping. “You almost done with your errand, baby?” You ask, shifting your bags again.

“Mhmm… Walkin’ toward you, sweetheart.”

“I got you your favorite,” you smile as you lift his coffee slightly, watching as he smiles. 

“My girl. Thank you—” You barely register the car driving through the alley before the force slams into your side. The world tilts violently as your feet lift off the ground, coffee cups slipping from her grasp. You hit the pavement hard, pain jolting through your body. Your phone skids across the sidewalk, Rafe’s voice cuts off,  and everything goes dark. 

Your eyes flutter open, a steady ring sounding in your ears. People gather around you, rushing to see if you're okay and what’s happened. 

“Oh my God—Oh my God, baby?” You blink up at a man crouching beside you, his face pale, hands trembling as his breathing comes out fast and uneven. You groan, wincing as you push yourself up onto your elbows, feeling your pulse bang in your head. 

“I—I didn’t see her, man,” the guy panics, running a hand through his hair. “I swear, she-she-she fucking came outta nowhere—”

“Blame her again, and I’ll fuckin’ kill you,” the man beside you snarls.

“I’m fine,” you whisper, his eyes returning to yours. 

“Are you sure?” He asks anxiously, as his big hands hover over your body like he’s scared you’ll break. “Keep your eyes on me, alright?” The man asks gently as he strokes your cheek. His blue eyes are wide with panic, his strong jaw tight, like he’s barely holding himself together.

“Who are you?”

His blood drains from his face completely as the words push through your quivering lips, stabbing him in the heart. His lips parted, but for a moment, no words came out. 

“Baby, it’s me. It’s Rafe—” He whispers weakly.

Rafe? He looks down at you perplexed–a look in his worried eyes telling you his name should mean something to you. His voice is reassuring, like he’s hoping it’ll bring you a wave of clarity, but it doesn’t… It’s just a name.

“What’s happening?” You ask as you try your best to hold back tears. 

“Hey, hey, easy,” he says quickly, his hand cupping your cheek, brushing away a stray tear with his thumb. “Just stay still, okay? The ambulance is coming.”

Your pulse thunders in your ears as you look at him—really look at him. His face twists in worry, his brows drawn together like this moment is doing nothing short of tearing him apart. But you don’t know him or how you got here…

You squeeze your eyes shut, panic creeping up in your throat, making it difficult to breathe. “I don’t understand.”

Rafe swallows hard, his grip slightly tightening. “It’s okay,” he says, though his voice wavers, trying to assure you both in one breath. “You—You… Uh,” he struggles before clearing his throat. “You hit your head on the ground. You just need a second, okay?” You weren't sure a second would matter because looking at him—this man who was holding onto you like you were his entire world—you felt nothing but empathy for a stranger. “You know me, sweetheart.” 

“I don’t.”

Rafe looks away, trying to collect himself as tears pool in his eyes. “Where the hell is the ambulance, huh?” He screams, his voice breaking with sadness as he looks around. “What's taking them so long?” 

Rafe’s never known fear like this… Everything that he knew to be true was gone in a moment. Your words shattered something inside him, but he refused to let go.

Rafe cups your face in his hand again, tracing his thumb over the soft skin of your cheek, trying to ground you both. “It’s okay,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “We’re okay. You’re just hurt. You hit your head—it’s just the concussion talking. You know me. You… You know me, sweetheart,” he smiles as his lips tremble.

He needed you to remember–needed you to feel what you had always felt when you looked at him. He needed the woman you were just a few short moments before, so he did the only thing he could think of doing. 

He kissed you. 

Rafe’s lips press against yours–soft and gentle—a silent plea for you to remember. But then he felt it: the slight hesitation, the way you tensed up, just barely, but it was enough.

He pulled back, praying he was wrong, hoping to see a sliver of clarity in your eyes, but all he saw was confusion. Rafe’s stomach twists, his hand drifting off your cheek, resting lightly on your hand instead, suddenly feeling like it didn’t belong there either.

Sirens wail in the distance as Rafe weaves his fingers in yours, holding you tight. 

“You’re gonna be okay, baby,” he assures. His eyes stay locked on yours as they lift you into the ambulance. “I’m right behind you, okay?” The paramedics close the doors before he can say anything else–the emergency vehicle streaming down the road toward the hospital. 

Rafe doesn’t waste a second, turning and running toward his car, fighting through people on the street as he digs into his pocket for his keys. He lifts them to the ignition–his whole body trembling as he turns the car over, speeding in the direction you went. 

He reaches for the speaker, turning down the volume, trying his best to hold in his emotions as the song you were singing on the car ride there pours out the speakers.

His chest tightens, and his gaze locks ahead as his nose fills with the sweet smell of your favorite flowers, the large bouquet resting in the passenger’s seat. 

This was supposed to be a perfect night.

Now, he’s speeding through the city, his pulse hammering, trying to convince himself that everything wasn’t falling apart. That he’d get to the hospital and everything would be fine–that that moment you needed would have come and passed.

That he would have his girl back. 

He replays the kiss in his mind, over and over again, refusing to blink as he stares at the road ahead, knowing that if his eyes beat shut, the tears glimmering inside will give way. 

The hospital comes into view, and the second he pulls into the parking lot, he’s out of his car, feet pounding against the asphalt as he sprints toward the entrance. The waiting room is packed; the hallways are bright and sterile. 

“Ma’am,” he yells as he spots a nurse. “Y/N?” He asks with urgency. 

“She’s in room 214 just down the hall,” she gestures down the way with a nod. “Follow me–”

Rafe runs past her, stumbling into the room and reaching for a full breath.

He bites his cheek as he sees you already lying in the hospital bed, tucked into a crisp white sheet. The lights are drawn low; your beautiful eyes shut.

Rafe looks down at you, seeing the little bruise blooming on your cheek with a slight gash beneath it.

His eyes flick to the sink in the corner of the room. Rafe saunters over, turning on the faucet, dampening a towel before stepping to your side. He presses it against your cheek; featherlight touches as he cleans it away.

“I got you, baby,” he whispers, his voice barely audible and laced with tears. “You’re okay. You’re gonna be fine.”

Your lashes flutter open, making Rafe freeze, his beautiful eyes set on yours. You were scared, but nothing even close to how you were the first time you woke up. And even though you didn’t remember Rafe before this, you felt him.

Rafe pushes out a shaky breath as he looks down at you, brushing your hair off your face. “Hey,” he whispers. 

You look at him, your lips parting, wanting desperately to say something, but nothing comes out. 

Rafe gives you a soft, weak smile as he takes your hand again, brushing his thumb over the top. “You don’t have to talk. Just rest, okay? I’m not leavin’. I’ll be right here, okay?” 

The room settles into a quiet rhythm—just the soft beeping of the monitors and the distant hum of hospital sounds filtering through the walls. Rafe hasn’t moved from your side.

The doctor pushes away the curtain before stepping inside, giving you both a reassuring smile. He flips through your chart, skimming your health history again. “How are you feeling?”

You exhale slowly as you look up at the doctor from your bed. “Okay. Just a little foggy; a little sore,” your voice breaks under pressure.

“You took a pretty rough hit, but your x-rays came back clear. No fractures, just bumps and bruises. That foggy feeling is coming from concussion–a mild traumatic brain injury or TBI.” 

Rafe’s grip on your hands instinctively tightens. “Umm…” He asks uneasily before clearing his throat. “Is that why she can’t remember anything–”

“Yes, we’re looking at PTA or post-traumatic amnesia. Everyone handles it differently–”

“Differently?” Rafe asks. “How-How so?” 

“For some patients, PTA lasts minutes—for some, months. Some things could come back in flashes, others over time. But given the nature of the injury, I’d say she has a very good chance of regaining everything.”

“You hear that, baby?” He looks down at you, his voice shattered but a little more hopeful than before. You smile and nod before looking back to the doctor. 

“You just have to be patient with her; reassuring–”

“I can do that,” he answers quickly. Your heart breaks for him. At the moment, the reason he was sitting next to you is lost, but you know enough to see that he is struggling. He was scared, too. Your fingers squeeze him, giving him a small gesture of reassurance.

He looks down at you before swallowing hard, exhaling a shaky breath through a soft smile before returning to the doctor. “So, she’s gonna be okay,” he asks.

The doctor nods. “Yes. She just needs some rest, assurance, stability, and time.” 

⊹ 💌 ⁺ ˳ ✿ . ♥️ ࿐

Rafe keeps his hand on your lower back, leading you from the car up to your downtown apartment. Your eyes search around, taking in everything seemingly for the first time. It was new to both of you–the two of you moving in just weeks before.

“Any of this look familiar? He asks as he helps you out of your jacket. You shake your head ‘no’. Of course, he wants you to remember things… He wants you to feel comfortable and safe, but there was some solace in knowing you didn’t remember this as well because, for the moment, the only memory lost was him. 

The apartment is beautiful, warm, and inviting–a love letter of your life together so far, picture after picture, memories that you’d eventually get back.

Rafe watches you closely as you take it all in, knowing the moment the photo was taken meant nothing, hoping for you to see how much he meant to you at that moment at least. 

You follow Rafe as he moves into the kitchen, grabbing a vase off the table, taking out some older flowers, and replacing them with new ones. You smile brightly, melting his heart as he replaces them with red roses instead. 

“Valentine’s Day?” You ask as you walk toward him, stepping into the kitchen. He sets the flowers back before returning to your side.

Rafe wraps his arms around you, pulling you gently against his chest, his chin resting lightly on top of your head.

“Yeah, baby.”

You both take a deep, needed breath. His cologne is rich, a warm vanilla with a hint of tobacco. You rest your head on his muscular chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. Tears start to well in your eyes again. 

“Hey,” he whispers, his hand tracing slow, soothing circles against your back as your fingers grip the fabric of his sweater like you need something to hold onto. “We’ll figure this out together, alright? No pressure. No rush.”

The emotion building in your chest was too much. All you could offer was a slight nod against him. Rafe presses a kiss against your hair, keeping it there momentarily.

“All you need to know is that this is your house, and I’m yours. Okay?” 

“Okay,” you whisper shakily. 

“Well,” he hums as he draws back slightly, meeting your eyes. “We can still do a few things we had planned,” he murmurs, his voice warm and gentle.

“We had plans?” You ask, hopefully. 

Rafe nods as his hands run down your arms, lacing his fingers in yours before walking backward, pulling you toward the kitchen. “It’s Valentine’s Day, princess. Of course, we have plans.”

Princess… Rafe sees the way you react to it–your lips part slightly in a bashful smile, that same flicker in your eyes you had the first time he called you that. “You like that, huh?” He teases. 

You giggle and bite your lip, finding yourself having to look away before looking back at the beautiful man before you–the man who wanted nothing more than for you to remember that he belonged to you. 

Rafe pulls out a stool at the kitchen island, draping your shoulders in a cozy blanket before passing you a glass of water.

“Water?” You pout teasingly as he places the bottle of red wine on the counter back on the wine rack. He shakes his head and laughs before heading back toward you. 

“You heard what he said, pretty,” he hums as he rests his hands on the counter, leaning in closer, making your heart race. 

“You’re really taking care of me,” you smile.

“Of course I am. Not to brag or anything, but that’s kinda what I do,” he hums. “I mean, you said it yourself, sweetheart. I’m the best boyfriend ever. I'm smartest, funniest, and sexiest, for sure,” he chuckles and winks.

“Anything else?” You smile. 

“Mmm… Mhmm,” he mumbles. “You’ve never loved a man before me. In fact, no men existed before me,” Rafe smiles devilishly.

You roll your eyes and smile. “Whatever you say.” 

Rafe reaches under the counter, grabs a pot and a pan, and sets them on top. 

“Wait—do you cook?”

Rafe bursts out laughing, looking back at you like there’s a story there. “Hell no… But you do,” he adds with a grin. “And it’s so fuckin’ good.”

“Yeah?” You smile; your love for cooking’s seared in your memory, but his reaction to your cooking’s brand new. 

Rafe nods enthusiastically. “Baby, you have no idea. Your pasta? Life-changing. Your chicken parm? I swear–”

You smile against the rim of your water glass before taking a sip, listening to him rant and rave. “So,” he says playfully, “since I clearly have no skills in the kitchen, you’re gonna walk me through it.”

Your eyebrow lifts in amusement as a smile curls on your lips. “You want me to teach you how to cook?”

“Mhmm… And don’t worry, I’ll do all the actual work. You just sit there and be your gorgeous, sexy, bossy self, yeah?”

“Bossy?” You laugh as you put your hand under your chin, leaning into the counter. “I boss you around?” 

Rafe smiles boyishly as he looks down at the ingredients list before him. “Don’t worry, princess, I love it,” he mumbles, his words sending a rush of warmth through your body. 

“I don’t remember what I was gonna make.” 

“It’s the chicken thing I like,” he answers as he sets the ingredients on the counter. “You made it for me on our first date. You said it was your specialty–”

“Chicken Cordon Bleu,” you answer with a smile. 

“Mhmm,” he hums with a cheeky grin. “I mentioned that I had it before in college, and I didn’t know that it was something that didn’t come wrapped in plastic and put in the microwave, and you called me disgusting.” 

Your hand covers your smile, not at all surprised with yourself. “I’m sorry–”

“Don’t be,” he chuckles as he sets the last ingredient on the counter. “You looked just like you did right now when you said it, so I was more focused on that,” he smiles, looking back at you in adoration. 

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah, baby,” he smiles. Rafe pulls out the last ingredient before looking at you, waiting for instructions. 

“Alright, first, you need to start the oven.” 

“Start. The. Oven,” he repeats your words slowly as he walks across the kitchen to the appliance. He puts his hands on his hips, looking at the little buttons and knobs before leaning in. He presses the start button, and the oven quickly responds with a shrill beep, making him tense up. “Shit,” he chuckles. “I made it mad.” 

“Temperature first, baby,” you smile. Rafe looks over his shoulder slightly before looking back at you with a smile, wondering if he heard you right. 

“Push ‘start’ again?” He asks, purposefully getting the instruction wrong, hoping you’ll repeat it.

“Temperature first, baby,” you smile, seeing how much your words affect him. 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

Rafe walks back toward you, his beautiful eyes focused on yours. As he worked, Rafe kept talking, filling the kitchen with stories, little pieces of you.

“We went to Italy?” He says. “About two months ago… It was the best trip ever. You dragged me through every little café, every hole-in-the-wall restaurant. We ate so much pasta, holy shit. That bottle of wine I put away was from that trip–delicious, baby. So damn good,” he hums as he recalls the memory himself.

The smell of the food fills the kitchen, and that familiar aroma surrounds you. “And those?” You ask, gesturing to the counter at a small, white box with a bow. 

“Perugina. Also from Italy. I’ve been savin’ them for Valentine’s Day,” he smiles as he cleans off the messy counter with a rag. 

You untie the chocolate box ribbon, picking one up, popping it into her mouth. Rafe scoffs, scrunching his nose as his eyebrows pinch together. “Hey, you’re not gonna be hungry for my five-star meal.”

You roll your eyes and laugh, reaching into the box to grab one for Rafe before holding it to his lips. He hesitates momentarily, his soft eyes flickering between you and the chocolate before taking it between his lips. Your finger grazes the slight stubble on his jaw, your thumb dragging ever so slightly on his plump bottom lip, making his heart stumble.

“Good?” You ask, your voice laced with sensuality. 

“So good,” he hums. Rafe grabs one himself, holding it up to your mouth. You take it between your lips, wrapping them around his fingers, lingering momentarily. The energy in the room shifts from light teasing to something deeper, which you could imagine would typically end with his lips on yours. The tension between you builds, and you feel a flutter in your stomach. 

“Good?” He asks. 

“Delicious.” 

Rafe set the plates on the dining table, resting yours in front of you before taking a seat.

He looks at you out of the corner of his eye, nervously awaiting your reaction. “This is amazing…” You praise, watching as the tension in his shoulders fall. “So,” You say between bites, “tell me about you.”

Rafe smiles, tilting his head as he looks back at you. “What do you wanna know?”

“Anything. I feel like I should know everything, but…” You exhale, pressing your lips together before shaking her head. 

“Hey, we’ve got nothing’ but time, aight? First date convo. The basics. What do you wanna know, princess?” 

You nod in agreement, looking back at him as you think about what you want to ask first. “What do you do? For work?”

Rafe’s lips twitch, a bit of pride slipping into his expression. “I’m closin’ a huge deal soon. It’s been in the works for months.”

“Oh?” You ask, intrigued. “Business guy?”

“Commercial real estate, yeah.” 

Your lips draw to the side as you push a glazed carrot around your plate, trying to think of something else. “And what do I do?”

Rafe scoots a little closer and smiles, resting his forearms on the table as he looks back at you proudly. “You own a restaurant.” 

“I do?” You ask happily. 

“Mhmm… For about two years now, I believe. A very, very successful one,” he praises you as you look back at him in wonder. 

“Wow… What kind of restaurant?”

“Upscale New American Cuisine,” Rafe answered quickly. “And I still don’t know what that means. But, it’s one of the most well-known spots in Charleston.”

Your lips part slightly, a flicker of something crossing your mind. “The Social?”

Rafe’s breath catches, his heart skipping a beat. “Yeah, baby,” he answers gently. 

“I’ve been thinking about that for years–since I graduated…”

“And you pulled it off,” Rafe adds.

Rafe watches you carefully, letting you sit with that realization for a moment, “That’s where we met.”

“Tell me about it.” 

Rafe smiles and nods as he takes your hand in his. “Alright, princess… Umm. You were pissed at me.”

You burst out laughing again, just like you did before. Your hand covers your mouth, half-covering your smile. “Why?” You chuckle weakly. “There’s no way.”

“I swear. You didn’t know me yet, but you hated me that first night, for a while at least.”

“Why?” You ask, scrunching your nose in disbelief with yourself, especially considering how sweet he’s treating you now. It’s hard to think of another moment when you could be pissed at him, let alone hate him.

“Because I was late for my reservation,” he admits. “Like twenty… thirty minutes, maybe? I came in with a party of twelve, and you were slammed. You had given the tables away, and I shuffled in with all those people, totally expecting the table to be ready.” 

“Uh oh,” you chuckle. 

“Uh oh, is right… You told me to fuck off.” 

“No!” You gasp. 

“I’m just fuckin’ with you,” he laughs. “Nah. You told me, very professionally, that you gave my tables away and that if I wanted to eat, I would have to wait.” 

“And what did you say?” You ask as you lean in a little more. 

“I turned on the charm, obviously,” he answers smugly. “Charmed your panties right off you.” 

“Oh my god,” you laugh, feeling your cheeks heat up.

“Mhmm… Flirted with you shamelessly,” Rafe adds. “I told you no one has ever looked this good kickin’ me out of a restaurant. And somehow, magically, ten minutes later, you had a table for twelve in the back.” 

You smile and nod, looking back at Rafe as his eyes twinkle in the candlelight, looking back at you lovingly. “Everyone left, and I decided to stay for a drink, and before I could even look around for you, the prettiest woman I have ever seen in my life sat next to me. And, the rest is history.” 

⊹ 💌 ⁺ ˳ ✿ . ♥️ ࿐

Without hesitation, you curl up beside him, resting your head in his lap. Rafe takes a slow, steady breath, trying to control his emotions.

The movie plays softly in the background, but neither of you is paying attention, focusing more on each other.

Rafe tests the waters, leaning down, pressing a gentle kiss on your forehead like he’s wanted to all night. The moment he pulls back, his eyes meet yours. And unlike before, when he kissed you in the street, the fear was gone. 

You swallow hard, blinking up at him, your voice barely above a whisper. 

“I love you.”

Rafe looks down at you, and just like before, he’s unsure what he heard you or if it’s just some sweet dream. “Yeah?” He asks weakly.

You nod; your eyes never leaving his. “I don’t—I don’t remember everything,” you admit, her voice thick with emotion. “But I feel it, Rafe. I feel you.”

Rafe’s jaw tightens as he struggles to keep himself from falling apart completely.

“I know how much you love me,” you continue, reaching up to cup his cheek. “I can see it in how you look at me and how you’ve taken care of me all night. I’m so lucky to have you.”

Rafe’s vision blurs, but he doesn’t care, letting his tears roll down his cheeks. He turns his face into your palm, kissing the inside of her wrist before whispering, “You have no idea how much I love you, princess.” He wraps his big arms around you, pulling you in for a tight hug. He buries himself in your neck, feeling a wave of relief crash over him. 

When Rafe lowers you again, you shift before he can react, straddling him and wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders. The sudden movement widens his eyes; a surprised chuckle leaves his lips as his large hand instinctively rests on your hips. 

“Well, this is unexpected,” he teases, his voice low and laced with affection. 

You smile softly, scratching your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck before you lean in, letting your lips ghost over the top of yours. Rafe’s breathing matches yours, lips brushing ever so slightly. And, just when he can’t take anymore, he leans in, pressing a deep, lingering kiss on your lips. 

His breath catches in his muscular chest, his grip tightening on your body as you melt into his warm embrace. Rafe’s heart pounds at the way you kiss him–no hesitation, no caution, fully. Just like the first night, you were together. 

“Is this too much?” He asks gently between kisses.

“No,” you whisper. “Not at all.” Your hands rest on his stomach, drifting higher up the cozy material of his sweater, pressing against his chest, then pressing again.

You still, pulling back slightly as you meet Rafe’s eyes, his brows furrow in confusion until he realized what he had done.

Your hand rests over your mouth, your eyes wide as you beg the silent question. 

Is that what I think it is?

Rafe freezes, his heart hammering in his chest as he gives you a slight nod. “Can I see it?” You whisper. 

He exhales slowly, his lips twitching into a nervous and excited smile. “I can never say ‘no’ to you, princess.” 

“Okay,” you answer as your eyes shimmer with tears.

Then, in one swift motion, Rafe lifts you to your feet, standing there before dropping to one knee, pulling out the box you felt in his breast pocket. 

“I’m askin’ you again. But, if I’m showing you, I’m still gonna do this right,” he whispers, his voice low and thick with love.

Tears well in both of your eyes as you stare at each other, caught in a moment that’s bigger than all of the lost memories.

Rafe swallows hard, staring up at you from his knee with the engagement ring resting in the open box in his palm.

His heart pounded so fiercely he could feel it in his throat, his hands trembling slightly—not out of fear, but because this moment, you had always been the most important thing in his life.

He takes a deep breath, steadying himself before speaking. “Sweetheart, I know things are complicated right now. And if I’m being honest, yeah—a part of me is sad that you don’t remember all the beautiful memories we’ve made. Because, God, baby, there are so many,” his voice breaks as he pushes out the last few words.

“If I’m bein’ completely honest, I would have proposed to you the first night I met you.” A soft, choked laugh escapes him, and he tilts his head, looking at you with the same love he always has.

“The second you rolled those pretty little eyes at me at your restaurant, I knew you were it for me.” You lift your arm, wiping your eyes along the sleeve of your sweater.

Rafe’s expression softens, even more, his free hand reaching for yours. He rubs his thumb over her knuckles and smiles.

“I love you,” he murmurs, looking up at you like you’re the only thing in the world. “I’ve loved you through every version of us—through every moment, every fight, every laugh. And I’ll love you through this,” Rafe promises. “I’ll love you while we figure it all out, while we rebuild every memory you lost, while you fall for me again—which, by the way, is inevitable because I’m incredibly charming.”

Your cheeks burn from your smile, and your eyes shut slightly, causing the tears to tumble down your cheeks.

“So, what do you say, princess? Will you marry me?”

“Yes,” you whisper without hesitation. Rafe barely lets you finish before he slips the ring onto your finger, his hands shaking slightly.

The second it’s in place, he surges to his feet, cupping your face in his hands as he kisses you deep and desperate, filled with so much love it nearly steals your breath.

“I love you,” you whisper as your fingers trace the back of his neck. 

Rafe grins, pulling you back in again, whispering a breathless ‘I love you too’.

Just like before, you move on instinct, jumping into his strong arms, wrapping your legs around his trim waist as your body presses against Rafe’s, kissing him just like you have countless times before. And even if you couldn't remember all those beautiful moments just yet, your body knew him.

Rafe’s big hands grip your thighs, holding you tight. "We should go to bed,” you whisper through a soft smile. 

Rafe chuckles, still breathless, his lips grazing your cheek. "You need to relax, princess."

"I am relaxed,” you murmur, nuzzling against your fiancé’s neck. "Please, baby. You said you can never say ‘no’ to me…”

He groans softly at your words, tightening his hold on you as he searches for your face. 

"Okay," he whispered, voice thick and hungry. "But I'm takin’ care of you… Princess treatment. You're not doin’ shit but cummin’, alright?” He asks. 

You nod, fingers threading through his hair. "I want you."

His chest ached at how you said it, like even though your memories were still scattered, you knew he was the one person who would always be there.

Rafe carries you toward the bedroom, your lips meeting again and again, slow and deep, each kiss stealing a little more of the space between you. 

He works off his sweater and shirt between kisses, and you undo his belt and slacks. Your hands fall down his toned skin as your breathing grows heavier, smiling against his lips.

Rafe follows your focus, your emerald-cut diamond glistening in the low light. “I’m gonna take care of you, alright. Now… Always. Okay?” He asks. 

“I know you will,” you whisper, making him smile against your lips. 

Rafe carefully takes off your sweater, quickly raising his hands to caress your curves. He smiles as he takes in the red lace. 

“This is new,” he whispers as his thumb brushes against the delicate material, making your nipple press against the fabric, whimpering at the subtle down.

Rafe reaches down, hooking his finger under the band of your leggings, looking up at you, silently asking for consent. You look at him and smile, giving him a slight nod. He pulls them down to your feet, kissing higher and higher. 

“These are new, too,” he hums as he slips his finger under the band of your matching panties. The set is no doubt purchased for the man standing in front of you.

He reaches behind your back, kissing your shoulder as he unclasps your bra, letting it fall off your shoulders onto the floor. Rafe lifts you off your feet, and you find yourself in his arms yet again; this time, it’s skin on skin. 

He sets you on the bed carefully, taking his time, looking at you underneath him. Rafe works slowly, biting the band of your red panties and pulling them down your thighs. 

You can feel the chill of your wetness between your thighs as he breathes warmly against your sex. Reaching down, you rest your slight fingers on your clit as he watches, rubbing for a moment, teasing him, making him chuckle out a deep, dark laugh. 

“No touching, princess,” he hums as he grabs your left hand, taking your middle and ring fingers into his mouth, sucking them clean up to the jewelry. 

Goosebumps spread across your skin as he kisses your inner thighs, working closer and closer ‘til he’s kissing your clit.

You throw your head back into the pillow, thighs drawing in. Rafe grabs your knees, carefully spreading you wide, spitting on your pussy before sucking down, sliding two fingers into your soaked hole.

“So fucking wet,” he moans against your cunt, working you with his mouth just like you love, sucking, flicking, and kissing, leaving you crying out for more. 

You feel yourself just seconds away from your release, but he already knows, quickening his pace, sucking down just a little more until your body comes undone. Your fingers twist in his hair, pulling him close as you pulse around his thick digits. 

You relax around him, dissolving into the mattress as he continues to work his fingers in and out, watching your body continue to respond to his touch. 

“How was that, princess?” Rafe asks with a smile, already knowing his answer. His long fingers are a mess with your climax.

You grab his wrist, drawing his fingers between your mouth, wrapping your lips around them, gliding them in and out like you’d suck him off.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he moans, watching you close. “We gotta get you feelin’ better. You’re so good at that…” 

“Come here,” you smile, wrapping your hand around his neck and leading him to your lips. You look at the space between you, watching his thick cock, leaving a slight streak of precum on your stomach as he moves closer. “Fuck, baby,” you moan needily.

Rafe wraps his fist around his dick, tapping your clit, making your body jolt with sensitivity. 

“Are you okay, baby?” He mumbles against your lips. “You wanna keep goin’?” Rafe asks as he traces his swollen tip around your soaked hole, pressing himself against it. 

“Please,” you whisper against his lips. “I need you, please–” And just like when he was sliding on your ring, he could barely wait until you got the rest of the words out, filling your tight cunt like he was always meant to be there. 

He lets out a deep groan, feeling the way your body pulls him in—the way the shape of you fits exactly how it should. “You feel that? Pussy was made for me, baby,” he breathes as he draws out, thrusting himself back in.

Rafe rolls his body into you, reaching that perfect spot inside you. Your body tightens around him, fingers twisting into the sheets.

You reach up, grabbing his cheeks, pressing a deep kiss against his lips; Rafe, swallowing your moans and pleasured cries.

Your back arches into him–nipples brushing against his chest. His chain falls on your chest, sticking to your sweat-glistened skin, making the tears pooling on your waterline fall as you see your initials etched in gold. 

“I love you, Rafe… I love you,” you whisper as he picks up the pace. 

“I love you more,” he soothes as he reaches up, rubbing the tears away with his thumbs. “Come on, baby. Cum on my cock.” 

You bite your lip and nod, looking up at him as your climax comes hard and fast, your body pulsing with pleasure around his thick dick as he works you through your orgasm. 

“Fuckkk,” he moans, drawing out the word as he empties himself inside you, his eyes screwing shut as you purposefully clench around him, making his body shudder.

He collapses on top of you, lips finding your forehead as he kisses, lingering as he catches his breath. Rafe moves a little lower, nuzzling his face against you, his voice barely above a breath as he whispers, “I love you.”

⊹ 💌 ⁺ ˳ ✿ . ♥️ ࿐

tags: @rafesthroatbaby | @marleymarleymarleymarley | @chelzaa | @rafesheaven | @nemesyaaa | @starkeysbabygirl | @littlelamy | @cameronsprincess | @lottalove4evelyn | @yasmin-oviedo | @vanessa-rafesgirl | @watchmerora | @rafeslovergirly | @buckybarnessweetheart | @anamiad00msday | @namelesslosers | @cades-outsider | @romaescapes | @starkeysprincess | @lish-0 | @oxpogues4lifexo | @unrealmirrorball | @lilithblackkk | @sleepiibunniiii | @gri959 | @rafesgiirl | @daryldixon83 | @akobx | @hyperfixationgirl | @lhhlver | @rrafeswhore | @slut-4-gojo | @blair-bears-blog | @loveesiren | @rafescorpsebride | @rafegf-real | @alphabetically-deranged | @ariana2saucyy | @rafestoothbrush | @hauntedfawnn | @laniirackssss | @wtfdudesblog | @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account | @jkrafe | @alejstarkey | @rafe-cameronswife | @rafedaddy01 | @st8rkey

[lalunanymph]

✧.* IN BLOOM

✧.* summary summer rains bring about the faint scent of asiatic apple blossoms wafting through the house from an open window in the kitchen. time stands still, fragments of moments leading you right to this very second. you take his hand and a deep breath. “anywhere you go, that’s where I want to be, caleb.” 

it’s all the permission he needs. 

✧.* warnings first time, mutual virginity loss, slightttt psuedo-cest if you squint, soft and smutty, size kink, spanking, oral sex, mating press, dirty talk, breeding, slight aftercare at the end, pillowtalk

✧.* dawn says something different from the dark content i usually write and tried my best to balance fluff and the feelings of losing your v-card for the first time (cue rose from titanic's voice: "it's been 84 yearsssss…")

It’s the middle of the night somewhere in Skyhaven. 

The street lights reflect puddles of rain left from a thunderstorm, and the air smells faintly of petrichor, reassuring weary strays and rain-soaked passersby alike that the worst is already over. 

While the world dries off from another raging tempest, inside Caleb’s home, you’re in his arms, warm and tipsy from the intimacy of shallow breaths gracing your parted lips. 

Smack. Huff. A caress. 

Slick and hot, the soft sounds of his kisses make you flush deeper, and you tighten your fingers in his hair. 

Caleb moans, unrestrained, as he feels you shift on his lap. Like a drug, he can’t get enough of you. The smell of wildflowers in your hair, how you taste like the strawberry balm he bought for you days ago when you complained of chapped lips. Slick fruitiness glides over his parched mouth, making his kisses glide effortlessly. 

He tangles his tongue with yours, sending a jolt of desire running up your spine. 

“Mhmph,” you moan against his mouth. “Oh… Caleb .” 

His name, sticky sweet with cadences of love, slips past your bruised lips, and he swears his heart chokes on a stutter.

Cool fingers push a stray lock of hair behind your ear, and he hums, those purple eyes vortexes of yearning. The maelstrom of emotion in them makes your chest squeeze, and you lean into his touch, breath coming out in a soft huff.

The unspoken tenuous line looms before the two of you, and you wonder if tonight is the night you’ll dare cross it. 

Flames from the digital fireplace flicker, synchronous with the temperature on the thermostat bumping up a notch, the one Caleb got installed because you grumbled that Skyhaven was colder than you remembered. Beads of sweat drip down his temples, but he doesn’t pay them any mind. 

You gently run the back of your hand against the muggy skin, wiping his perspiration away. 

This close, your breaths mingle and blend into one, the tips of your nose rubbing against each other. 

Inevitably, Caleb would pull back, sigh, and tell you to go to sleep while he takes a ridiculously long cold shower. You’d be left alone in your room, an ache blooming between your thighs, and frustration keeping you up all night.

That bastard. 

At your core, you understand your ex-older brother figure didn’t mean to edge you to the precipice of oblivion. His protective tendencies, while great in keeping danger away from you, are a hindrance to taking the next, natural step forward together.

As you feather another kiss to his jaw, you feel him pull back. 

Caleb’s cheeks are ruddy, not from the heat of the room, but from the one building between the two of you. 

He licks his lips, inadvertently drawing your attention to the puffy flesh which is still sticky from your errant smears of lip oil. With a huge sigh, he drags himself back from your orbit, as if he can’t bear to be within crashing distance of your surface. 

“Pipsqueak, it’s late,” Caleb whispers, the tenderness of his words brushing against your earlobe. 

You shiver when his teeth graze the sensitive flesh. 

“You need to sleep—”

Stubbornly, or perhaps, foolishly, you tighten your grip around his neck and drag him closer to you till his forehead bumps yours.

Your lips seek him with a newfound determination, and he almost stumbles back into the stuffed cushion, a moan of desperation slipping past his carefully crafted self-control. 

“Pip—”

“No,” you mumble heatedly, and drag your tongue across his lower lip, begging him for access into his mouth. 

Caleb reluctantly parts his lips and you tangle your tongue with his, tasting the sweetness of the apple soda he just drank half an hour ago. 

“Mhm,” he moans, and gives in to your momentary distraction, knotting his fingers into your already disheveled hair.

Something hard pokes your lower belly, and you whine into the heat of his kisses, running your tongue over the hard palate of his teeth. 

Caleb tightens his grip on your hips, and relents into the force of your yearning, feeling the contours of your body melting against the hard planes of his own muscular build. You shiver when he dips his fingers past the hemline of the tank top you’re wearing, your breasts pressed up to his chiseled pecs. He’s bare except for a low-slung pair of sweatpants, temptation right in the palm of your hand.

Your nipples pebble from the friction of his body slowly rubbing against yours, and the need he’s been stoking throbs warmly between your thighs, an aching thirst demanding to be quenched.

“ Caleb… ” 

The whispered moan feathers across his cheeks, grazing him with the warm softness that is entirely you.

In his arms, you’re sin waiting to be devoured—those doe-innocent eyes and warm, wet mouth that get him harder than steel. 

He whimpers when your lower body drags against his bulge, and winces when you giggle and gently nip his lower lip.

“Pipsqueak—”

Hoarse and ragged, the sound of your childhood nickname brings you up short.

“Caleb, why do you always insist on calling me that when I’m trying to… you know…” you trail off, equally as shy as him. 

It’s clear he doesn’t expect you to directly address the elephant in the room. But, after almost losing him once to the explosion and another time to his spiraling secrets, you desperately want to hold on to the man who had taught you what love was.

Caleb’s thumbs stroke the fleshy part of your hips, drawing tender circles on your skin. Those purple eyes flash like a doleful puppy’s and you resist the urge to pinch his cheek. He looks like he’s in pain—as if one touch from you could break him. 

“Are you sure?” 

His voice is hoarse. Uncertain.

“Once we do this, it’s…” he trails off. Years of knowing his ins and outs make you privy to the true meaning of his hesitation: 

Are you sure you want to cross this line with me? 

Your fingers tremble when they caress his jaw. Summer rains bring about the faint scent of Asiatic apple blossoms wafting through the house from an open window in the kitchen. 

Time stands still, fragments of moments leading you upright to this very second. 

You take his hand and a deep breath. Caleb sees your crystal clear eyes, free from the shadows of the doubt creeping into his mind. He tastes the first stirrings of hope, right in the center of his rib cage where his heart pounds valiantly, and tightens his grip on your hand.

You look at him like he’s something precious —gold and gems in the palm of your hand. Tenderly, you press a kiss to his forehead, tasting the salt of his skin, and murmur: 

“Anywhere you go, that’s where I want to be, Caleb. ” 

It’s all the permission he needs. 

Caleb snaps you up into his arms effortlessly, using his unbeatable strength to carry you back to his bedroom, his lips never leaving yours.

The heat of the moment is only broken when he sets you down on the bed, his lips detaching from yours for a moment to trail down your neck, nipping and sucking his marks all over the pristine canvas of your skin. You gasp, arching into his touch, when he nuzzles his face into the crook of your shoulder; biting down on the stretch of skin just begging to be marked by him.

He slides the strap of your tank top to the side, stamping more heated kisses down onto your shoulder, the jut of your arm. Every loving graze is punctuated by his devotion, those violet eyes brewing with the storm of his affection about to snap and break. 

Caleb… you whine, and he answers with a low grunt, his entire weight bearing down on you.

As kids, he’s always had the unfair advantage of his build and age to win at wrestling. Gran would often find the two of you entangled on the rug, you flushed and seething and him glowing with triumph when he’s won—yet again. 

But, the press of his body on yours is different this time. 

It carries a more intimate intention, all of which is far from the innocence of playfully fighting each other for the last hawthorn-flavored candy in the fridge, or the privilege of choosing what Saturday morning cartoons to watch. 

He sweeps your hair back, letting it drape over your other shoulder as he moves his lips to the delicate stretch of skin still untouched by the heat of his mouth. Caleb’s teeth graze your pulse point, and you jerk, as if electrocuted. 

“Nghm,” you moan, and he huffs a chuckle, his warm breath making goosebumps erupt across your arms. “ Fuc—”

“Uh-uh,” he chastises, the heat of his mouth swelling over your pulse point, gently sucking on your skin. Leaving another errant mark. “Don’t swear—good princesses never swear.”

Teeth sink into your lower lip. You feel dizzy and elated at the same time like you’re standing on the highest point of the earth, looking down at the swirling colors below.

“Ngh—C-Caleb. ” 

Oh, you sound so weak. Already driven to your knees, metaphorically, for this man who had as much power over you as you did over him. 

“Yeah, princess?” 

He moves his lips down to your sternum, hot puffs making your nipples perk up from her dormant slumber. They tent underneath the ratty, old t-shirt you’re wearing, the one that used to belong to him, demanding to be sucked and teased.

Caleb is careful to not push your boundaries, but you don’t want any of that.

Grabbing his head, you press it none-too-gently in between the valley of your tits, wordlessly signaling what you need.

His dog tag shines in the low light of his bedroom, the apple charm a glint of red that complements the fog of lust taking over you. Everywhere you look, you feel, is nothing but Caleb.

He presses you flat into the bed, the sheets bunching up under you and in your tight fists. 

“Don’t touch… not yet. Can you follow my orders, baby?” 

There’s no choice for you, but to nod. 

Slowly, like molasses dripping from the lip of a bottle, he wraps his mouth around your turgid, right nipple. The dampness of his saliva seeps past the thin fabric, and you cry out when he bites down on your bud, the brief flash of pain lighting up your nerves from head to toe.

 Slick need saturates the seat of your old sleep pants. You whimper when the head of his cock drives between the cleft of your pussy, digging against your clit. 

Sparks of pleasure ricochet from the tips of your fingers up to your hairline and you groan, mouth falling lax.

He takes his time, swirling his tongue over your tender peak, broad strokes of his tongue spreading more spit and heat, wetting the front of your shirt. It’s methodical, how every stroke of attention stacks up to a building heat throbbing at your core.

A supernova of desire, bulging and waiting to explode.

(And, he hasn’t even fucked you yet).

Caleb moves his attention to your other peak, and you cry out when he nibbles on it, your hands breaking formation from the bed where he’s ordered them to be stationed, and tangling disobediently in his dark hair.

But, he doesn’t chastise you. 

Caleb continues to purl swathes of his tongue over your tender nipple, flickering his darkened gaze up to the line of your jaw as the pleasure unfurls across your heated face.

You choke on another cry when he pries your thighs further apart, settling his bigger build between them. 

“Look at you.” Heated derision drips from his venomous lips, and you lap them up, tilting his head up to taste his lips. You’re not sure how you ended up in this position when it was you who wanted this. The last bit of control you have dissipates, and your body falls open for him like the spine of a well-read book. 

It scares you how much Caleb knows about your body. The small scar above your knee when you crashed your bike into the wide trunk of an oak tree. The grooves of your neck now bear his kisses and marks.

Despite staying true to his word about never getting a girlfriend, Caleb is mysteriously nimble and sure for a virgin. 

“Did you have another girl before me?”

You don’t mean to sound accusatory, but the words fly from your puffy lips and you can’t take them back.

Not when he glances up at you as if you had insulted thirteen generations of his family.

“Uh—no,” he mutters defensively, caustically pushing back his sweat-soaked bangs from his flushed face. “ Excuseeee me, princess. What’s with that tone? You know you’re the only woman I’d ever touch.”

You purse your lips and level him another glare, though it’s tempered by a glowing warmth in your chest. 

“R-really?” 

You hate how whiny you sound, like a psychotic girlfriend. But, Caleb does have a penchant for bringing out the crazy in you when you least expect it.

He brings your knuckles to his lips, feathering a soft kiss on them. “Yeah. Why do you think I took so many cold showers growing up? This little pipsqueak is far too tempting for me.” He punctuates his point with another kiss on the nape of your neck. 

His Adam's apple bobs from the admission, and your eyes widen. 

“Huh. I seeee .” 

You drag your words like him, playfully pinching his cheek. “That’s… kinda sweet.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” his gruffness reminds you of a ruffled puppy, and you laugh, tugging his silver chain with two fingers. 

The scene flickers. The man on top of you cracks, and a fragment of the boy you grew up with glimmers; the past merges with the present, and the essence of who Caleb is grins mischievously right in front of you. 

Like so many times before, he tackles you onto the bed, hands flying underneath your shirt to tickle your sides.

“No! Caleb! I yield! I yield—! ” 

Your infectious laughter bounces across the monochromatic walls of his room and fills his lungs with bubbles of joy. 

“Yeah, you better,” he threatens jokingly. While you’re still giggling, he grabs the hem of your shirt and gives it an experimental tug. When you don’t resist, Caleb pushes the envelope of your consent and lifts the shirt past the smooth terrain of your tummy, inching it up slowly… so slow… 

His fingers are trembling, and you take over, helping him with the last stretch, leaning up to tug your shirt completely off your body. 

Your chest squeezes with a mix of dread and anticipation when he eyes your bare breasts, a myriad of emotions flitting across those deep-set purple eyes.

Need, desire, shame, anger—tenderness.

His eyes speak the truth, even when he remains silent, and no matter how much he changes into the stoic Colonel you now have to coincide with your gentle older brother figure, those irises will always betray his true emotions for you. 

Now, they’re gooey with a feeling neither of you can name, as he peppers more kisses around the plush fat of your breast. Taking his time, he teases you with puffs of hot breath and grazes of his teeth.

Working you up to a crescendo of need before he gives you what you want. 

And god, do you want it.

Your body is arching tighter than a bow ready to strike, so keyed up from his few touches and the previous makeout session. 

“Caleb—”

“Yeah, gotcha.” 

He samples the flavor of your skin, closer now to your nipple. Your thoughts flat lines into a white-hot buzzing hum when he finally— finally —wraps his lips around your tender bud. 

Fuuucckkk. Your keening sigh sends a chill straight to his bones. 

Suckling tenderly, he pulls the taut flesh into the enticing vacuum of his mouth and releases it, forming a small ‘O’ with his puffy lips and moving on to your next breast. 

The twinge of unending sucking and nibbling rubs your tender flesh raw. 

Caleb… Caleb… 

You’re panting like you’re racing a marathon. He leaves a bunch of hickies down the pillowy fat of your tits, making his mark loud and clear on your body for the world to see.

A possessive hint curls on the edges of his smile and he braces himself on his forearms, juicy biceps glistening in the interplay of shadow and light in this muggy room. 

Peeling your glassy eyes at him, you huff, grumbling.

“Tease.”

He laughs heartily at your adorable accusation.

“Never said I wasn’t a right bastard, love,” he coos, cocky and sure. You want to wipe the smirk off his infuriatingly handsome face.

Leaning up, your spit-soaked nipples rub the hard planes of his broad chest, and you tangle your hand in his hair, drawing him down into the plush sin of your eager kisses.

“S-low down,” he huffs, smothered by your smacking little puckers. 

You giggle, a vixen on the loose, needing to rein her mate in. “Nuh-uh. Not until you finally fuck me senseless.”

Caleb cocks a brow. “S’that an invitation, darlin’?” 

Stuttering, you realize your mistake a second too late when he prowls over you, pressing you into the mattress, fluid like a panther locking sights on its prey.

“ Wait— ”

Caleb wastes no time hooking his thumbs under the frayed band of your shorts, tugging it down in staccato drags to mess with you. 

“ Caleb—! ” 

You whine, more turned on than annoyed by his teasing. It’s not until the sight of your mound appears, clinging to the edge of the band like the horizon of a new world beckoning to be explored does he stops, gaping at the sight with reddening ears.

It’s your turn to mess with him. “Cat got your tongue… gege?” 

He stares at the sliver of skin like a blind man feeling the sun on his face for the first time. 

“Shit,” he breathes. “You’re beautiful .” 

Tentatively, he drags the last remaining piece of clothing off your body, his breath lodging in the back of his throat. 

God… he groans. Pretty, little princess… gonna taste you so good.

Two worlds crash, sky to earth, and Caleb’s mouth meets the terrain of your pelvis. Traveling downward, he connects a path from hip to mound, and you feel his tongue sampling this uncharted territory. 

His broad back almost blocks out the light above and god—you’re already panting when the sharp jut of his shoulder blades creates an attractive silhouette sliding down the last few inches of your body, finding his haven in the juncture of your thighs. 

Caleb spreads' em’ nice and wide, making sure to run the tip of his tongue over the cushiony bounce of his lower lip. Shit, you murmur under your breath, before he dips his head and enjoys his meal. 

The tapered edge of his tongue touches your clit, and you lose the last semblance of control. 

You know Caleb’s always been a foodie, and the way he practically feasts on your pussy is no different.

Slick juices smear across his pretty mauve lips, and he slurps you up obscenely. The gloss of his spit lubes you up hotly from the inside, filling you with a pressing slick. 

Oh—mhmph… you groan, panting heavily. 

How was he so goddamn good with his tongue?

“Nghmm,” he moans, looking up at you with drunken purple eyes, lost in the sweetness of this sin he can’t stop devouring. “You taste heavenly.” 

Caleb presses into your pussy, treating her like an old lover he wants to French kiss till dawn. 

The high bridge of his nose bumps against your tender clitty, and he takes this chance to smear his lips all over your folds, rubbing your bundle of nerves raw. 

Your back lifts off from the bed and you can’t make sense of where you start and he ends.

“H-ahhh,” you moan, and twine your fingers in his hair, tugging.

“Easy,” he groans, lifting his wet, plump lips from where your core is inhaling him in. “Y’gonna make me bald in no time, princess…”

A senseless dribble of drool trickles past your lips, and you feel the thick toughness of his finger swiping it up, popping it into his mouth. Caleb grins, spreading your legs wider, and lifts your lower body off the bed. The sight of a dark spot seeping the front of his pants makes your breathing stutter, and you can’t keep your eyes away from such a lewd show. 

“See what’cha do to me, sweetness?” He moans and gingerly takes your hand with his right one to press it right on his crotch.

Holy shit. Your eyes bulge wide. 

He’s fucking huge.

You lick your lips in nerves, unable to tear your eyes away from the undulating mass of his rock-hard abs moving with every ragged breath he takes. 

“Is that…?” 

Caleb smirks, a dark look flitting in his eyes. “All for you?” he finishes. “Yeah, sweetness.” 

As if goading you to take the next step, he tips his head to the side, looking at you from under his thick lashes, his magnetic eyes pinning you to the bed.

“Wanna see it?” 

He guides your hand to rock against the hard bulge, and you swallow when you feel him twitch under your palm.

The reality of your position under him hits you, and you feel as if every breath you take might make you float up to the ceiling. Your mind is racing, a cacophony of thoughts that swirl and blend into one pulsing thrum of more, more, more. 

“Y-yeah.” 

He grunts at your admittance and steers your fingers to the edge of his band. “There you go—tug it down, princess…” 

You do as he says, and gasp when the crown of his cock comes into view. 

Girthy, thick. Veiny. 

A dark, almost violet-inky trail of hair leads down to the rise of his pubic bone, and you stare as the curve of his cock becomes more pronounced. Flaccid at 6 inches, he would rise to greater heights once released into the open air, and you panic, closing your fist around his still-clothed head as you beg him with your eyes to pause.

“Hold on…” you gasp. “Jus’ wait a minute.”

Caleb pauses, his eyes flashing. 

“You… don’t want this?” 

The implicit question hangs heavy in the air. 

You don't want me?

It pains you how quick he is to incriminate himself as undesirable when it's the furthest thing from the truth. 

“No!” you mumble and gently hook your fingers under his chin to get him to look at you. “I just… need a second to recalibrate cause… holy shit… you’re massive—”

He guffaws, shaking his head, boyish face lit up in joy. “S’that all? Aw, princess…” he coos and flicks your nose with his index finger. “Swear, you can be so adorable sometimes…” he teases, and you huff.

You take a deep breath and center yourself, before finding the courage to proceed with tugging down his boxers and sweatpants. 

“Okay…” you murmur, and un-fist the soft material, dragging it down with bated breath. 

There he is, in all his glory. 

He’s warm and alive in your hands, and you give the girthy base a generous pump. His smell hits you—musk, man, briny… 

Is this how a real man feels? You think your obvious lack of experience makes you faint with worry. 

Would Caleb notice? 

Would he hate how you don’t even know what to do with a cock? 

What if he doesn’t want you to touch him—deciding you’re too inexperienced for his tastes…? 

“Shit—” Caleb hisses, taken off guard by your sudden movement. “You’re killing me here, princess…” 

In such simple praise, you find your footing once more against the tidal wave of insecurity. 

Pushing aside your worries, you hum, taking your time to explore his body. 

The divots of his abs, the crinkles of his girth as it sits so pretty on his lower body like a pair of crown jewels. 

You run your thumb over the pulsing globes of his balls, feeling the soft, almost velvety skin dimpling under your touch. 

Caleb grunts, and you flicker your gaze to him. His brows are furrowed, and he looks a second away from busting a vein, his face a light shade of puce.

“Caleb?” You softly call out to him in worry. “Are you—?”

“Yeah,” he gasps, and shakes his head, closing his eyes. “Jus’... didn’t expect you to feel this good…”

Good? 

You feel… good? 

Licking your lips, you focus your concentration on the fleshy plump head of his cock. If he has sensitive balls, Caleb is practically a timebomb of nerves on the tip of his arousal. 

Flushed and sticky with pre, you swipe your thumb through the crease of his slit, gathering the milky white deposit and slowly bringing it to your mouth.

Salty. With a hint of bitterness.

Surprisingly, he tastes amazing—

Large hands yank your away from his cock. 

He doesn’t give you the luxury of time to enjoy him. 

Your world suddenly tilts and Caleb’s growl is loud in your ear. He has you pressed into the sheets, your face in the soft cotton, and his large palms kneading the doughy rise of your bare ass. 

Smack!

You gasp and jerk back, indignation at the tip of your tongue. But, it dissipates when he drivels a finger right into your core, sinking fully into the heat of your pussy. 

Your scream is muffled into the pillowy sheets, and he wastes no time in hooking his meaty digit up, hitting a spongy spot inside you that makes your toes curl.

With his other hand, he continues to spank you, little pert taps that grow in intensity as his frustration builds.

“Look - at - how - wet - you’re - getting,” he snarls, and withdraws his fingers to show you the trails webbing in between them, proof of your not-so-innocent reciprocation. Caleb taps his slick fingers to your lips, and you part them obediently, half-thrills of fear and lust curling up your spine.

The taste of you perforates your tongue. Sweet and musky, you've sampled your arousal before, but never from his hand. Gagging lightly on his digits, your eyes roll back into your head and you feel his fingers tickling your uvula.

Shit, he curses under his breath. You're too cute, Pipsqueak… too precious.

He moans as you gurgle his name. Cwaleb…

Throaty and sweet, you're the perfect symphony and he could listen to you all night. 

Caleb withdraws his sticky fingers from the back of your throat with a damp, little ‘pop’ as his spit-slicked digits tap your cheek.

“Fuck, you're too perfect .”

He sets you back on your back, your pouty, glossy lips twisting in a smirk. Caleb hooks your ankles around his shoulders, and—showing he's about as virginal as a town bicycle—smooths his thumb through the mess of your folds.

His pointer catches on the lip of your gaping, swollen pussy, and he hums when he smears your love juices all around, making sure to get it as messy and creamy as possible.

Inching his thumb past the loosened ring of muscle, he grins. 

The gooey, silky mess coats him to the knuckle. You're already pretty free and easy for him to slip his cock in.

“Just a little more, sweetness,” he coos, twisting his thumb, slipping it out only to replace it with his index finger. His now free thumb smears the cream of your arousal around, catching on the pearly mound of your clit as he deepens the pressure.

Nghh ahhh, Caleb! You cry out. 

Your cheeks are warm, eyes glossy with heat and Caleb can't get enough of the way you're panting and twisting on the sheets, writhing like a prey caught in his trap.

It's too much. Too fucking much.

Desire turns your thoughts hazy. There’s a swollen spot inside of you that he manipulates with ease, pressing down on it— “S’good girl,” he murmurs into your neck. “Taking my fingers so well. You make me so damn proud, darlin’.” 

You’re panting, lapping at the sweat beading on your upper lip.

It’s too hot. 

He feels like a fucking furnace above you.

Bigger than any man you ever imagined to take, Caleb is a beast trapped in the body of the boy you love. His scent drenches you—cedar wood body soap bleeding into your pores, marking you as his. The scent of his aftershave grazes your cheek as he leans in to give you a sloppy, full-tongued kiss. 

Mhmmph—you mewl, clinging onto him like ivy.

Your thighs wrap around his waist instinctively, and everything is primal when you finally give yourself up to him. 

His plump, weepy tip catches on your pulsing opening, and he groans at the briefest contact of slick mingling together. You’re so wet, your pussy juices web with his pre, silvery strands clinging to the lip of that little hole he wants so badly to sink into.

Like the deepest tunnel in space, Caleb wants to venture where no man will ever go. He grasps the head of his cock and guides it right to where the blackhole of all his desires resides, rimming the opening where he swears nirvana throbs out his name.

Caleb… she calls out to him. Claim me. Come in me. 

He answers her signal, forehead smushed with yours, his sweat dripping into your slack mouth.

It’s a strange sensation.

Fingers. Tampons. The occasional vibrator. 

None of it can compare to the sheer volume and intensity of a real cock pushing past the envelope of your flesh. The ridges and bumps feel magnified as if there’s a forcefield of pleasure accompanying such penetration. Like it’s sucking you into a different dimension. 

Your head spins and your gasps sound far away, like someone has plunged you right into a swimming pool. 

The only anchor you have is Caleb’s broad shoulders.

You hold onto him as he rocks his hips forward, pleasure unfurling down your spine like a current. 

Fuck… Caleb… 

There’s nothing else in your mind but him.

The sound of his groans. The pinched furrow of ecstasy on his brow. His swollen lips hovering over yours. 

Even the dim lighting of the room makes you feel cocooned in his embrace, safe from the horrors of the world. 

It’s effortless, really, how he grasps your hips and opens you up to him like you’re a centerpiece dish all bared out and vulnerable. 

Nimble hands arrange you into the meanest mating press as your legs dangle above you uselessly, swaying with every hard roll of his thrusts. 

Caleb fucks like he wants to put you through the mattress. 

There’s nothing romantic about this—a man hellbent on making you his. His cockhead smushes with your cervix in a romantic dance of fleeting French kisses. Marking you for days. God, you whine. God, you’re—

So good.

So good.

Oh, Caleb. 

More. More. 

You don’t even notice the light schmear of blood coating his length. Or, how the pinch of pain is overridden by the messy plap plap plap of your bodies meeting together.

You’ve just given up your virginity to the boy you love—the man who’s been with you through hell and back. 

Caleb grabs your ankles and presses it down onto the pillows above your head, plunging his cock in and out, in and out. It’s sloppy and you’re making a mess everywhere.

Foamy white creams at the base of his cock, dribbling onto the dark sheets of his duvet.

Your body rocks with him, the bed creak creak creaking under the brunt of his thrusts. 

He dwarfs you, a mountain of a man bruising the same golden spot that makes your toes curl in your periphery.

“Fuck,” he drawls, purple eyes gouging on your every reaction. “You— mhm —’re squeezin’ down so good, princess.” He huffs, dew drops of sin splattering from his lips and lapped up by your tongue on his jaw. Caleb groans, his hips stuttering. “Can’t get enough of you,” he starts to babble, face flush and eyes heavy with intoxication. Your pussy is the perfect drug for him. 

He starts to whine, dog tags slicked with sweat and heavy with his body heat thudding against your jaw. You part your lips and bite down on the metal, tasting salt and tang. “You—ngmmm—feel too good… so good—ah, shit, sweetness—” Caleb curses, thick fingers dimpling into the flesh of your hips and tipping you up to be fuller of him. 

C-can’t hold back, darlin’, he almost whimpers. I-I can’t… you gotta come with me. Come on, sweetness, give it to me… give me your cum, baby. That’s it, baby. Ooohhh, yes. Yes. There she is. Atta girl. Goooddd girl. Stay with me, baby. Don’t—lift your hips, fuck. Lemme rub that pretty pearl, darlin’. You look so good cummin’ all over me—

Your screams pierce the night air, echoing with a clap of thunder outside the windows. But, you can’t pay attention to storms, not when the biggest one is wrecking you apart.

Caleb moves like a man possessed, greasin’ his thumb around your pebbled clit, changing the angle so he’s pushing even deeper—

“Caleb!” 

Your back arches off the bed, till only the crown of your head remains on the pillows. Caleb pushes back, drowning you back into the sheets, his whole body pressing down— “Shit, nghmmm! —” he grounds out in a low voice. 

Almost a growl. 

It makes your insides shiver around his cock. He doesn’t jackhammer you like those oiled-up studs do in pornos. 

He takes it intensely, grinding his hips, injecting his rhythm with a few punctuating thrusts. 

“Good —” you choke out. “—fuck me so good— ”

Yeah? He teases, dark bangs falling in his face, covering one of his magnetic violet irises. 

Your body tenses, abs clenching, and he groans.

Tipping you further down the precipice, Caleb ducks his head and engorges his wet, hot mouth around your swollen nipples. He pinches the other one with his free hand, the spare still frigging your clit with the intensity of a madman. 

Your eyes roll back into your head.

You clench—hard.

White hot paint splatters behind your closed eyes, imprinting on your lids and the world fades into hypersound as you scream:

Caaaleeeebbbb!

Oh, shit. 

Your walls massage him better than any fleshlight could. Definitely a thousand times better than his hand. 

He’s a goner right there and then. 

Thick, fat spurts of hot, sticky cum fill you up. Neither he nor you care about what this means, pumping you to the brim until wet, gummy dribbles splotch down onto the bed. Caleb shudders like a great beast, and with one last, heaving push, he breeds you. 

.

.

.

There’s nothing else in the ringing quiet but your ragged breath. 

The world slowly comes back—a flickering flash of thunder. Caleb’s soft groan. 

He pulls himself out, and the effect is a reverse weirdness of when he fucked himself in. 

It leaves you gaping. Empty. You whine and he chuckles tiredly, gathering you into his arms.

All's silent for a few moments until you hear the bed creak and his weight off the mattress. Your blurry eyes open to find his massive, muscular frame in all its naked glory ambling to the bathroom. In a few moments, a warm softness glides between your puffy, well-abused folds, and you moan, twitching away.

“I know, I know,” he soothes. “But, I gotta get you cleaned up. Stay still, sweets.”

He wipes you down until you’re clean again, and tosses the soiled rag to the floor. Your arms open on autopilot for him, and Caleb chuckles, sinking back into the ring of warmth your body gives him. 

Sighing into your hair, he tightens his grip around you. Outside, the eddies of raindrops swirl down the window panes, and another flash of thunderclaps. He slowly presses a kiss to your head, holding you tighter as a new storm rages unceasingly. 

Caleb yanks the blankets up to your waist, and uses himself as a weighted one, pressing you into the soft mattress, much to your bubbling giggles. He smiles, loving the sound, and gently flicks your chin with his index finger.

“I didn’t hurt you, didn’t I?” 

He moves to your side and you turn around, propping your head under your arm to gaze at him, a lovesick expression etched on your face.

Caleb mirrors your movement, also sliding his arm under his head, his other slung casually on your hip.

“Nah,” you admit after a beat of silence. “Didn’t even feel it.”

He pretends to pout. “Y’know, if you say that in a different context, I would get really, really hurt, Pipsqueak.”

You groan, and smack his chest. “Just like you to ruin the mood.”

He catches your hand, pressing your palm to his cheek with a boyish laugh. 

“I’m kiddin'! Kidding, darlin’. C’mere—” 

Yoinking you closer, he smears a kiss onto the nape of your neck. 

As you trace his arm, he hums.

“You… really blew my mind,” he admits sheepishly. 

“Huh. I did?” It’s your turn to tease him now. “Well… I guess so did you.”

You yelp when he pinches your ass playfully. 

“‘Oh, Calebbbb ’.” He mocks your earlier moans. “‘Ahhhh moreee moreee— ’” 

“Hey—!” 

He lets you smack his chest, snickering in glee like a stupid boy. 

“Juussstt kiddin’, sweets.” He kisses you right on your pouty lips. “Knew you’d be perfect. You’re always perfect.”

And, your heart melts.

“Really?” You whisper as a subtle flash of lightning illuminates one side of his grin. Warmth fills you up when he nods.

“Is it sad to say I’ve been dreamin’ about you like this for eons?” 

You shake your head, a smile playing on the corners of your lips. Slightly breathless, you respond: 

“I’ve been… thinking about you that way, too, baby.”

You expect him to make a stupid joke, or to diffuse the tender moment with his snark. 

But, Caleb doesn’t do that. He loves being in this delicate bubble with you—and only you. 

“Good,” he hums. “Because I’m not done with you yet, sweets—not by a lonnggg shot.”

a/n: comments and reblogs are very much appreciated ! thank you for reading ;D

© all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy, repost, claim as your own or feed my content to AI learning tools.

[mattybsgroupie]

— tub ★ matt sturniolo

— CONTENTS: established relationship; making out; semi-public sex; p in v; creampie; sub!matt

— NOTES: i literally gasped when i saw that pic and i just had to tell @mattscoquette how much i needed hot tub sex with him. well… here it is! i know i have so many requests but i promise i’m gonna write them all! not proofread as usual, i apologize for any mistakes, hope you enjoy it ♡

“finally” matt mumbled under his breath as he watched chris drink his last sip of soda before wrapping himself in a towel and getting inside the house. you chuckled at his comment, dragging your arms across the warm liquid that embraced you and moving towards matt. “why? i thought you were having fun”.

“i will have fun” he said, reaching for your hands and interlocking your fingers in each other’s palms as he pulled you closer, face to face with him. “now that it’s only us” .

“you’re so lucky water distorts the actual form of things” you teased, placing your forearms around his shoulders and comfortably positioning yourself on his lap, feeling matt’s boner against you. “i could tell you were hard 30 minutes ago” you continued, index flickering around matt’s necklace. you went further, bringing the chain in between your teeth before closing your lips around the cold metal, deeply staring inside his blue orbs.

“it’s not my fault” matt whispered, not being able to keep his eyes off of you. “not when you look this good” he allowed his hands to travel across your body, stopping by your hips and forcing them down. you gasped with the sudden contact, matt’s cock seemed to have gotten even harder if that was possible.

the purple, blueish light that shimmered from the corners of the tub along with the warm bubbles turned the moment intimate, and matt couldn’t help it — he pressed his chapped lips on your neck, licking the tiny droplets of water there.

you let out a heavy sigh, letting go of his chain and tilting your head to the side, allowing matt to go further. his stubble tickled against your skin as the kisses got more heated, his teeth gently nibbling on your exposed neck.

lost in matt’s touch, your hips started moving in a pace of their own, slowly grinding your covered pussy against matt’s hardened cock. the pressure caused by the water intensified the proximity of your parts, causing matt to groan in a low tone, trying his best to stay quiet.

“my good boy doesn’t wanna be loud?” you teased and matt threw his head back, squeezing his eyes shut. “mhm” he nodded, “don’t call me that”.

“why? you don’t want chris to know his big brother is all worked up from a little grinding?” matt nods again. your thumb hovered over his lips, brushing above the lower one before pulling it down in a pout. “use your big boy words” you demand as matt sticks his tongue out, licking your digit.

“need you” matt whined, his grip on your waist growing tighter. “need you so bad, please” he repeated, slightly jerking his pelvis upwards, a silent plead for you to notice his aching cock. you leaned in and sealed your lips together, intensifying the kiss as your hands traced their way down his torso, your nails scratching his chest.

matt’s hands went to your ass, harshly grabbing your flesh and lifting you from his lap. you took the opportunity to quickly pull his shorts — just enough to free his dick from the swimwear he was wearing. you could tell matt’s eyes were wandering around the backyard, as if he was checking if you were actually alone. you cupped his cheeks, forcing him to look at you and smiling warmly, letting him know he didn’t have to worry about a thing.

his sneaky fingers reached the straps of your bikini, easily undoing the tie and letting the black fabric hang loose, your bare pussy now only a few inches away from his shaft. matt guided you towards his length, lowering your cunt on his tip. you let out a deep sigh before fully sitting on him, his dick opening you up entirely. “fuck fuck fuck” he whimpered, “s-so tight fuck”.

“be a good boy hm? you want to shut you up?” you said, trying your best to keep your composure. matt’s veins pumped inside you, his tip brushing on your cervix. “nhng— yes… can’t be loud”. you chuckled at his eagerness, pressing your lips against his once more and sliding your tongue in, twirling the wet muscle around his own.

“you’re so big” you said amidst the kiss before pulling away, flickering your gaze from his lips to where your parts met. “look how good you fill me up hm?” matt nodded. it all felt too good. almost too much. he had been staring at you for hours, and his cock was throbbing underneath that bathing suit. the warm water around his body, your hands pressing his biceps, your pussy squeezing him. “you’re right here” you said, gently grabbing his wrist and placing his palm on your tummy.

“please i-i need to—” matt whimpered, his grip on your ass growing tighter as he bucked his hips upwards, mindlessly pounding inside you. you felt your own high approaching, the familiar knot on your lower belly begging to be released. “cum! please!” matt cried out loud. you shushed him, grabbing his jaw and lifting his chin up. moans came from the back of his throat, and you had no other choice but to bring your fingers to his open mouth. matt immediately wrapped his lips around your knuckles, sucking them with all his might.

“good boy” you praised him, receiving a muffled whine from him. “cum for me baby, fill me up” as you gave him permission, matt’s entire body trembled underneath you. his orgasm washed over him and his release threw you over the edge, the warm, thick spurts of cum painting your walls white.

matt panted heavily, tiny droplets of water dripping from his brown strands. none of you wanted to let go or get up, the comfort of being in each other’s embrace being enough to fall asleep right there — and you wouldn’t mind cockwarming him for the rest of the night. unfortunately, you still had to find your bikini panties and he had to make sure his brothers were already asleep. “hey, at least we didn’t make any messes huh?” he joked, giving you one last kiss before getting up and turning the lights from the hot tub off.

— TAGLIST ★ @thepubeburgler @submattenthusiast @pearlzier @mattsfavbitchhh @bugeyedgrl @sturncakez @riowritesitall @mattsturnswife @sturnsmia @sturnthepot @mattscoquette @conspiracy-ash @ilovemattsturn @lizzymacdonald06 @blahbel668 @fratbrochrisgf @sturnobsessedwh0re @cayleeuhithinknott @sturniolo04 @1c3b4th @mattsfavbigtitties @bellassturniolo @sturnsxplr-25 @ivammbb @shadowthesim237 @slutformatthewsturniolo @stefansring @teeheeomg @dystfopia @riasturns @faiyaz555 @sturnslutz @alesturniolos @emely9274 @courta13 @elandrys @sturns-mermaid @mattsplaything @marrykisskilled @bells-sturn @mattsgstring @strnilolover @jetaimevous @aaliyahsturniolo @evie-sturns @ivysturnss

complete masterlist ★ matt masterlist

[muntitled]

Housewife Blues

Pairings: Terry Richmond x Housewife!Reader

Summary: Operation making a baby

Warnings: Language, Traditional Gender Roles, Controlling!Terry, Daddy Issues, Smut (+18) mdni, Degradation Kink, DDLG, Daddy Kink, Controlled Orgasm, Unprotected Sex

A/n: Reader literally calls him Daddy. Please don't read this if that's not your vibe.

When your days weren't spent caring for your home as an active military wife, you engaged in reading, crocheting, baking and positively, actively avoiding the southern housewives that haunted your sunny cul-de-sac. Terry knew you'd much rather be doing things alone when he was at work.

This woman was intruding on your alone time.

"We've got to stick together!" the woman had said, her voice dripped like her honeycomb hair haloing her head. You wouldn't have willingly opened the front door had you known she would be lurking on the other side. The amicable smile that was on your face was cracking.

You initially thought it might be your husband, come to surprise you, knocking off from work earlier than usual. All throughout the day, you had been eager to see him.

He had left you in quite the state this morning.

"Faster," he had commanded in that mahogany veneered voice as he watched you try and fail to give yourself even a sliver of the kind of pleasure you were used to. He liked watching you struggle to take your fingers that were far too small, nothing like his large, skillful hands that would drill into your cunt when you needed it to.

"Why are you slowing down?" He enquired calmly, his head leaning against the headboard as he watched you try to please yourself in order please him to the best of your abilities.

You were seated between his legs with your legs spread open. The only contact established between you two was your ass pressed against that bulge straining his boxers. If Terry was a lesser man, he'd forget that he was trying to teach you a lesson about coming without permission. If he wasn't so deeply wired with self control he mightve said fuck the lesson and pulled his cock out to slide inside your weeping cunt.

But he wasn't a lesser man.

And no matter how hard he got, he loved watching you struggle to make yourself cum.

"M'sorry okay?" Gone was the trace of bratiness in your tone. All that was left was a little girl's pathetic whine and even that made him harder.

"M'sorry, I wont cum without your permission again-" you craned your head back. Your cloudy hair moved across his chest as you met his eyes, "Please help me," you hoped eyes displayed your desperation. Even if that weren't enough you knew your next words would be. "Please, Daddy-" he made a sharp intake of breath and you knew you had him.

"I need y-"

"I need to go to work-"

Your eyes nearly popped out of your skull as the man behind you moved to rid himself of you.

"What!? You're just going to leave like that?!"

"Who're you talking to?" He had asked so calmly, with his head tilted, corralling you into absolute silence.

"I-"

"Give it' till this afternoon," he wasn't a complete monster. He kissed you on your forehead, making you feel whole even for a split second before ridding himself of you once again.

"Can you be good for me until this afternoon?" You loved when he did that. You loved when he spoke down at you, as if you weren't sporting numerous degrees. As if you weren't a fully autonomous woman.

You liked the break he gave you from thinking.

"I can." You had said. Completely determined not to touch yourself until he arrived home.

All day, your brain had been fuzzy with thoughts of him. 'The dangers of being a housewife', your best friend had called it. He was consuming your every thought. Your mind was plagued by images of him inside you. Your mouth. Your cunt. Your mind.

You had no time for this. Not time for her.

"We?" You reiterate with your head slightly tilted as you lean against the door you were itching to slam shut in her face. "We should stick together?" You asked it as if hoping to make sense of how in what world a woman like her and a woman like you might ever be classified as 'we'. In front of you stood the seemingly perfect example of a nuclear housewife. Poodle puff golden hair, bright eerie smile and a body that could reproduce, seemingly at will.

"Yes!" The blonde woman said, "Us wives of veterans, we need to stick together-"

"Oh-" you were in the process of shaking your head, "I- don't really see myself as a product of Terry's-"

"I think we should have a little meet up tonight! We'll wrangle up the husbands and the kids-"

"I've got no kids," You said so curtly it could've given anyone a harsh chill.

"You and Terry have no children?" Judging by the look on her face you could swear you've just admitted to some form of bio terrorism.

"No kids?" She nodded gravely. Far too gravely. "H-How interesting, well. That's okay! I'll just call our babysitter- She's a lovely girl. Hopefully you find someone like her when you and Terry finally get to it-"

"When her and Terry get to what?" You hadn't even heard that roar of the truck easing up the driveway, your mind had been far too plagued with images of your childless marriage to really pay it any mind. But you're very much of him now as he appears behind that stupid little housewife.

Like Pavlov's dog, your body and all its machinations react to the sound of Terry's voice alone.

The gravel that seemed to roll in his esophagus. The way he dwarves the woman taking up your precious time. He had finally come home, but here you were, being occupied by your neighbors, dressed in nothing except a tight fitting night dress.

"Oh Terry!" The woman said, hoping to steal his attention, despite his eyes remaining fastened on you, "How lovely to finally meet! I was just telling your lovely wife we should all have a family meet up- she informed me that you two don't want kids?"

"Have-" You said so quickly, "I said we don't have kids. Not that we don't want any."

Without sparing the woman another glance, Terry strolls past her. His large bicep squeezes you into the frame of the door as he walks up behind you but you don't mind. In fact you suddenly feel calmer in his shadow. Your nerves are both calm and set alight as he moves his heavy arms around your waist.

"You explained yourself?" He bends down, his lips pressed against your ear, "You didn't need to do that." Your mouth stammered open as the woman by your doorstep pales.

"Well- I was just enquiring-" the woman attempts to salvage the situation but Terry’s already pulling you into the house.

"We'll come back to you about the dinner-”

“We could set a date right now and-”

“Excuse me,” Terry says, “We gotta go make that baby we apparently don't want-” you catch a final glimpse of that woman. Her mouth stammered open.

Terry's leading you towards the couch and you follow him, your fingers wrapped around his pinky. You swallow heavily watching his back muscles contract.

He's so big.

So in control.

It has your mind swimming in the pools of subspace as he lowers his frame to the couch. He pulls you into his lap and you yelp as the skirts of your dress fan around his lap.

For a moment all is quiet.

You evade eye contact and he tries to hide his smile as he forces you to interlock your hands behind his neck while his titan hands meet around your waist. You were quite literally trapped.

“That woman probably isn't going to talk to me again after that little display of yours,” you mumble lowly and he chuckles softly as he brings his nose to the crook of your neck and he breathes in.

“Try not to sound so pleased about that.”

“I have to make friends, Terry-” your breath stammers when you feel his pillow lips open up until he's pressing his tongue to the sensitive skin by your neck.

“Did you touch yourself?” He asks and despite his words holding that usual sliver of control, you can feel the slight eagerness to his actions. His steadily hardening cock straining through the front of his jeans and his restless hands moving underneath the skirt of your dress.

“No, you told me not to.”

“I've told you not to do many things,” he presses another kiss to your temple and you breathe in rather sharply when his fingers reach your inner thigh. “Sometimes you don't give a shit about what I say.”

“I promise I didn't touch myself,” it was becoming difficult to breathe. Your mind descended into lechery as his fingers inched up your thigh and you opened your legs slightly. “Honest.”

“Should I check the cameras?” Your body tensed ever so slightly and for someone as observant as Terry was trained to be, you knew he spotted it.

“We have cameras?”

“You think I'd just leave you in this hick ass town alone throughout the day and not have cameras in the house?”

“Oh- well-”

“Doesn't matter if you touched yourself, does it?” Your breathing swells as his fingers finally connect with the seat of your panties. He adjusts himself underneath you. You're absolutely soaked.

“No one can make you cum like I do,” He whispers, sliding your panties to the side, “Not even you.”

Your eyes grow hazy as his fingers begin to play with your aching cunt. It's everything you've needed and more.

“Say it-” You're teetering on the edge of a complete mental check-out as his fingers rub your clit. You squirm on top of him, searching for the seating position that would let you grind down on his hand but he keeps you still.

“Fuck-” he groans and for a split moment, you're nearly close.

Until he pulls his fingers away and you're once again whining and squirming with no sense of relief.

“You can't just-”

In a series of fluid and swift movements, Terry moves you off of his lap. Your back hits the couch as he hovers over you.

“what're you doing-”

“You thought I was kidding about making that baby?” He asks, so incredibly serious as he undoes his belt buckle and all you're able to do is lay supine and take whatever he gives

According to your family, everything about Terry Richmond had been a seemingly blood red flag: from his overtly frightening countenance, to his slightly unnerving marine status.

He is nothing but menacing as he hovers above you, parting your legs before reaching inside his jeans.

“You're squirming too much,” he says, “You want the cuffs?” Your throat dried with the recollection of the previous tike Terry had slapped his cuffs over your wrist. He had quite literally used your cunt to milk his cock and there was nothing you could do about it.

Despite loving the memory, and the sharp thrill it shoots straight to your clit, you wanna touch him, and you tell him as much.

He groans before lowering himself towards you.

“Shouldn't I take off-”

“Keep the dress on,” he lifts your hips before spreading your legs, for a moment he gets lost at what he sees There underneath all the pink frills and tulle.

“I'm going to get you pregnant,” he promises before lifting his eyes to meet yours, “Any objections?”

He's not smiling. His eyes are deep and hypnotic and you move your hips as if so incredibly needy to take anything he gives.

“No objections,” You shake your head and your words die in your throat when you feel your panties be swiped to the side once again. Terry's restraining himself. You can see it in the veins popping out of his neck.

You're not sure why.

“Green or Red?” His Eyes lift to meet you and you can feel the head of his cock press against your tight opening.

“Red,” you respond. “You can be rough- i just need y- FUCK-” he thrusts inside you, bottoming out almost immediately.

You didn't need any prep because you were already soaking through your underwear but your cunt still fought To bully his cock back out.

“Th-That hurts-” you grit your teeth as he begins to thrust shallowly inside you, despite having already bottom out. It's like he's searching for somewhere deeper to go and you both groan out loud at the thought.

“You’re so fucking wet, fuck-” He watched his cock slides back out completely before slamming it back in and you yelp at his brutal intrusion. It fulfills something ravenous in you, the way he lowers his hand to the side of your head before fucking into you with wreckless abandon.

“So fucking tight-”

“Fuckyoursobig-” your eyes are hollow and Terry knows from your slurred speech that you were fully in subspace.

“Shit- you tryna make me cum already, huh?”

Your bottom lips portudes and you look up at him, nodding dumbly, “You wanna be a good slut for your Daddy, don't you?”

The second he locks his thick palm around your throat, and you wear his hand like a collar, you're absolutely done for. Your hips lift to meet his thrusts and your tongue lolls out of your mouth.

“Such a fucking slut- shit-”

“Yo-Yours,” you moan, “Your slut-”

He immediately stills his hips before cursing aloud. Terry's lips crash down onto yours. A hungry kiss you weren't expecting but eagerly reciprocate.

“My pretty slut,” he nods his head in affirmation. patting down your head as if you always knew what to say. “That's right, baby.” You're bathed in the praise. You fucking absorbed it. “That's right, Clever Girl-”

“Oh my God, Daddy- please,” you lift your hips, urging him to continue drilling into you.

“You're such a good girl for me-” he continues to affirm as his hips move once more, “You gonna take my cun, aren't you, Pretty Girl? You gonna make Daddy proud and give him a baby-”

“Terry, ohmygod-” you can feel your cunt spasming around his cock.

“Ask.” He can see you teetering on the edge but his voice is dark and commanding. “You know better.” He warns. “Ask.”

“Please-” you search to hold onto something, anything that would stop you for cumming outright on your husband's cock, “Please let me cum, oh my god-”

He speeds up his own thrusts. Unbeknownst to you, your eagerness to take him, your whining and begging had him twitching inside you. It's like you became a vessel of his pleasure alone. You were good at that. You were good at making him the center of your universe.

“Cum for me, Pretty Girl.” It's all it takes for you to let yourself go completely. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as Terry squeezes your throat, sending you flying amongst the clouds. You curse and scream and your cunt is suffocating his cock until he can't handle it anymore.

“Gonna cum,” he affirms, his voice tense and his muscles tight, “Gonna cum so fucking hard inside my Pretty Girl-” even he had his limits. Soon he wasn't able to say anything. His words bled into uncontrollable groans as he trusted a steady stream of cum inside you.

You're patting down on his tense muscles, urging him to part with every single drop.

You're full.

So utterly full it has you seeing stars.

“That ought'a do it.” He says.

He’s nice Terry again.

[astonmartinii]

other side of the moon - chapter six | formula one imagine

chapter six: fireproof

pairing: fem retired formula one driver reader x ??? fem retired formula one driver reader x platonic!kimi antonelli

testing is finally here and after the car launch, y/n is not looking forward to the mercedes garage

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR | SERIES MASTERLIST

the day and a half after the car launch before max was called into the factory by red bull was a slice of peace y/n had longed for for three years. but also one she couldn’t help think would be the last bit of peace she would be afforded this season.

the pair woke up the morning after the launch, bundled up together and hair sticking up in every direction.

“good morning” y/n said, words smothered by max’s chest. the dutchman grumbled to himself as he wrapped his arms around her even tighter.

“max, your phone won’t stop vibrating - please tell whoever it is to fuck off”

max groaned, flipped over and grabbed his phone. with his eyes shut, max jammed a couple buttons and suddenly the gravely voice of helmut marko rung out.

“max! where are you? the team have just informed me that you left early and are not at the hotel?”

the dutchman finally opened his eyes. he pulled y/n back into his side and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“helmut, it’s too early for this many questions.”

“i asked you one, very straight forward question, max.”

“i’ll be at the factory tomorrow, don’t worry.”

helmut sighed down the phone, “wherever you are, make sure you’re not late and not spotted doing anything untoward.”

“me? untoward? helmut, i didn’t know you thought so low of me.”

“the only reason i believe you is because you’re on your best behaviour with y/n back, maybe we should add her to our payroll as well.”

y/n couldn’t stop herself before she burst out laughing. she smacked a hand over her mouth but it was too late. helmut hummed.

“i see. good morning miss y/ln. make sure he’s in top condition for tomorrow.”

“will do, helmut.”

max hung up as soon as he could and threw his phone down the bed. he smiles down at y/n, “that’s not exactly how i pictured my first morning in bed with you.”

“so you’ve pictured this?” y/n questions, raising an eyebrow.

“no? yes? maybe? i definitely have but i don’t want to creep you out so what do you want to hear?”

y/n laughs as he buries his head in the pillow, whining in embarrassment.

“maxy…” she sings and pokes his back.

“don’t look at me! i’m a freak!” max yells, muffled in the pillow.

“but you’re a freak for me?”

“isn’t it obvious?”

y/n finally gets max to lessen his grip on the pillow and look back up at her. there’s a dusting of pink on his face and a concerned look in his eye.

“don’t worry, i like it. as long as you’re only a freak for me.”

max ducked his head again, “as happy as i am to hear that, can we refrain from saying it like that? i was proud i managed to wake up without morning wood and you’re really testing that resolve right now.”

y/n’s laugh reverberated around the room. without the needy meows of brando, the pair could stay snuggled in the bed for much longer than usual.

“max?” y/n asked, the dutchman had rearranged them so that he could be the little spoon and had his head resting on her chest, “please don’t be sorry for your feelings. they don’t make me uncomfortable and unlike others you didn’t just assume i reciprocated. i like what we have and i want to see where it could go, but i want to take it slow. i don’t want people butting in and adding their two pence. i just want you - and our furry babies.”

y/n could see the smile breaking out on max’s face before he even lifted his head from her chest.

“i said i just want to exist with you,” max said, “that will never, ever change.”

the dutchman’s eyes flicked down to her lips and the blush returned when he realised he wasn’t too subtle about it. y/n gives him a small nod and max leans in.

“can i?”

“please,” y/n whispered as max’s lips connected with hers. it was a small peck, just a press of lips, but it was enough. both pulled back and smiled, happy to breathe the same air for a while. y/n’s hand wrapped around his nape and pulled him in for another one. this kiss lasted longer, the pair pouring their years of pining into it, communicating something words could not describe.

for a moment y/n wished that she hadn’t returned to formula one. she wished that this would be her life. happy in her coop in west london with her and max’s cats waiting for the dutchman to come home, far away from her past ghosts and the sport that nearly killed her.

“will you still find me attractive in mercedes kit?”

“that’s a stupid question. you’re the most beautiful person in the world. yes, i would prefer if it were my number and my colours, but i’ll live with it if it means seeing you at every race.”

y/n giggled, the dutchman pressed another kiss to her lips because he could.

“i know you’ll be rooting for kimi this season, but i’ll win every race for you. even if the red bull is a shit box, i’ll fight everyone to bring that trophy home to you.”

“my singular monza trophy is a little lonely,” y/n said, “but your wins are yours, not anyone else’s”

y/n pushed back the duvet and started to get out of bed, much to the chagrin of max. despite his attempted puppy-dog eyes, y/n shuffled into her slippers and made her way to the kitchen.

“find something good to watch, i’ll cook up one last cheat meal for you,” y/n’s voice called from the hallway. max stayed led in the bed, a dumb smile on his face. it all felt a bit too good to be true and he hoped those in the paddock who had already caused some trouble would stay out of this.

despite another night of snuggles, max did not want to leave for milton keynes the next morning. y/n had made him a breakfast sandwich for the ride, but it did little to console the young dutchman even though the pair would be apart for just two days before they’d reunite in monaco and fly out to bahrain.

“i don’t wanna go… i want to stay here, you’re so much nicer to look at than christian!”

max was dragging his feet as he made his way to the hire car. he even tried to delay his departure by roping frank into a conversation but y/n had thought of that and rung down to reception in advance.

“it’s like you want me gone!” max cried as he put his bags in the car.

y/n laced her fingers in his, “you know i’ll miss you, but i don’t want to hear helmut’s voice any more than i have to, so you have to go. i’ll see you in monaco.”

max pulled her into one last kiss and reluctantly got into the car. y/n waved him off as he disappeared into the streets of london.

“finally!”

a yell boomed out in the garage, making y/n jump and stick her keys out as a makeshift weapon. frank stood at the entrance of the garage with a huge smile on his face. y/n calmed down when she saw the older man.

“frank! that scared the shit out of me! how long have you been there?”

“long enough.”

frank looked very smug. y/n made her way to the entrance, pointedly ignoring the older man.

“don’t be mad, i won’t tell anyone. i’m just glad you finally realised what was right in front of you.”

did everyone see it before her? it certainly seems that way.

“we’re taking it slow, so i’d appreciate if you kept this under your hat, frank.”

“of course, miss y/ln. would you like me to arrange for another parking spot for your flat?”

y/n tried to keep a stern look but she just couldn’t help it and smiled at the older man.

“that would be lovely, thank you.”

her apartment was quiet without max. she didn’t want to say she missed him just yet, but she had to busy herself with something before she fell down that hole. she needed to pack and get a flight back to monaco so she could spend a little more time with the cats before pre-season testing kicked off the season.

y/n’s phone buzzed with a message.

kimi: y/nnnnnnnn huge favour to ask! george can only give me a lift back to london before we go to bahrain so could i maybe get a lift to brackley???

y/n: if you buy my coffee at each stop you’ve got a deal.

kimi: yes, yes. i know your order - THANK YOU !

she better get to packing.

the italian stood on the side of the road, wrapped up in two coats, a hat and a scarf. ollie stood beside him in just a t-shirt, some shorts and a pair of flip flops, showing off his british aversion to the cold.

y/n pulled up beside the pair and winded down the window. “don’t you know hitchhikers are dangerous?”

kimi smiled and gave ollie a quick hug, popping the boot and shoving his small suitcase in. the italian slipped into the passenger seat and waved at ollie.

“why didn’t i have the idea to ask you to be my mentor?” ollie whined, “esteban is great and he has already given me a ton of lifts but you’re you!”

“snooze you lose” kimi said, poking out his tongue.

“esteban is great ollie, don’t believe all this shit about him being a bad teammate. he’s lovely and will be more than happy to help you out. however, we do need to go because i need to drop off this princess and get a flight to monaco. ciao!”

y/n stood on the gas and flew off down the street. from the corner of her eye, y/n could see kimi studying her. this wasn’t too strange for the italian, he often just stared at her, amazed that she had even agreed.

“i can feel you staring kimi, do you have a question?”

“why are you so happy?”

y/n laughed at the bluntness. the italian sputtered, “i mean i’m happy you’re happy, but i can’t help but be suspicious. i haven’t heard a peep from you since the car launch… and a little birdy told me you left with a certain someone.”

“it’s been two days, kimi!”

“you’re still smiling, you can’t stop and considering you smiled maybe twice in the first couple days i knew you - this means something!”

“fine! you caught me. i did go home with max. i’m not saying anymore than we’re happy and we’re taking it slow. i’m telling you because i believe for a good mentor relationship i should be completely open, as should you. also you’re like a quasi-son to me so there’s also that. do not tell anyone else, i’m serious. not even ollie.”

kimi whined at that, “but i tell ollie everything!”

“well not this. you saw how some of the people, including your teammate are with me and max, i do not want to give them any ammunition, okay?”

kimi hummed to himself, his brain whirring so loudly that even y/n could hear it over the music and the road. “speaking of those who WILL be without ammunition because i WILL keep my mouth zipped shut… how are we actually planning on tackling george this season?”

y/n was making the turn off of the motorway and towards brackley as she chuckled, “aside from physically tackling him at testing? i am joking, by the way. kimi, i don’t want you to worry about george anywhere but the track. he talks a big talk, but he’s very easy to frustrate when he’s not winning. don’t give him the rise he’ll want, okay?”

the tension rose in the car, it had all been fun and games up until this point, cocktails parties and car launches. but now it was getting real. y/n had the voice in the back of her head that worried that her off-track drama with the other drivers could impact kimi’s career.

“please stop worrying, y/n. i know what you’re thinking, but i am capable of handling it myself. i may only be eighteen but i’m not afraid of anyone.”

y/n pulled up outside of the mercedes factory and turned to kimi. she grabbed his hands, “promise me, kimi. promise me that if the drama with me gets too much, you will say something. i know it’s your dream to work with me, but make sure i do not interfere with your career.”

kimi scoffed, “them being afraid of you will never be your fault, you know-”

“it doesn’t matter if my fault or not, if their pettiness fucks with you, i won’t be able to forgive myself…”

just as they spoke, george pulled up beside them in his mercedes. the brit wasn’t alone in his car however. a brunette woman sat in the passenger seat, and much like george, her eyes narrowed at the sight of y/n.

“that’s carmen, george’s girlfriend. she doesn’t usually come to the factory with him?” kimi gasped, “maybe she’s here to stake her claim on george, as if you’d want him anyway…”

y/n laughed as kimi got out of the car. the italian grabbed his stuff from the boot and walked round to the window. y/n rolled it down and the two did their handshake.

“enjoy the prep, bunny, don’t make too much mess. see you in bahrain!”

the moment was cut short by someone clearing their throat. carmen had rolled down her window and was looking at kimi, less than impressed. the italian squeaked a quick goodbye and shuffled towards the entrance.

y/n tried not to make eye contact with carmen as she inputted the airport’s address into her gps. she was baffled by the news that george even had a girlfriend, not that she wanted kimi or the couple to know that. how long had they been together? did she know about y/n and about george’s weird feud with her? too many questions and not enough answers.

george and carmen made their way past y/n’s car and stopped just in front of the entrance, pointedly in y/n’s eye line. the two kissed, messily for people their age, and just to sum up her return so far, george kept eye contact with y/n the entire time, his hand wandering lower and lower on carmen.

2025 was the year of psychological warfare it seemed. y/n could work with that.

she sped out of the car park with new vigour. if psychological warfare was what george was ordering, y/n needed to know everything about everyone. she had stayed away from the drama surrounding formula one in her three years away from the sport, but it was time to go full gossip girl.

it’s crazy how much you can find in an hour in an airline bar about your former colleagues. y/n’s phone started ringing loudly, earning her some dirty looks in the lounge.

“maxy! did you know that george dated nyck’s sister?” y/n said, shovelling the free nuts in her mouth, “and that lando and pierre once liked the same girl in dubai?”

“why oh why are you telling me about this?” max said.

“because that prick wants psychological warfare, so i have to know everything!”

max hummed, not convinced. “am i like missing something?”

“i took kimi to brackley this morning and was treated to a lovely show from george and carmen. the weirdo kept eye contact with me the entire time! so if he wants to play it like that, i gotta know my enemies.”

“as weird as this all is, i’m glad to see you’re so into all of this, miss detective.”

y/n laughed, “i know i’m reading way too much about all of this, but i swear to god if he tries to fuck with kimi or you, i’ll play dirty if i have to. i mean i just don’t understand why he’s being such an asshole now about everything i supposedly did when he has a girlfriend - insecure much?”

max laughed down the line, they really were so much more alike than people would think. hearing her now, max wished she was back in the paddock for qatar and abu dhabi last year just to see what kind of revenge she could’ve thought up.

“anyway, maxy, are you still at the factory?”

“yeah, we’re just on a break, i’m outside getting some air and i didn’t know whether you were on the plane yet or not - you know you could’ve taken air max if you wanted to?”

y/n smiled, “i didn’t need your plane for a trip to monaco, silly! i’ll only be on the flight for a little while anyway and i’m only going because i’m having withdrawal symptoms from my babies!”

“why would you say this, now i want to see them!”

the boarding sign popped up, “ah! i gotta go maxy, i’ll text you when i’m back at yours - what time does the cat sitter go?”

“she will have left like an hour or so before you get back. stay safe, i -”

there was chatter in the background, “i gotta go, bye!”

max hung up quickly. y/n was left to her thoughts again and just how much life can change. this time three years ago she was making notes about the season coming, turns to watch and previous first lap incidents and now she’s compiling gossip on the grid’s personal lives? part of her wanted to be ashamed, but in the same vain, she knew that her adversaries hadn’t spared a moment for introspection.

max’s apartment in monaco was alight with the impatient meows from brando, sassy and jimmy. the cats yowled like they hadn’t been fed in days, although clarissa, the cat sitter, had sent max and y/n nearly hourly updates on them.

“oh my babies! momma missed you so much!” y/n said, abandoning her suitcase at the door and ushering the cats towards the couch. once she was sat, brando bullied his way onto her lap, his spot, and jimmy and sassy snuggled up beside her as closely as possible.

she pulled out her phone and snapped a quick picture of herself and the cats and sent it to max.

max: all my favourites in one place, you’re making listening to christian drone on even harder

y/n: you better keep listening, maxy, don’t want anyone else winning this season do you?

max: i do hate losing…

y/n smiled to herself, there was no lying to now, this place with the cats and max felt like home. the most at home y/n had felt for years.

“right, momma needs to shower and cook, babies!” brando did not look impressed but consoled himself by going back to grooming an equally unimpressed jimmy.

y/n rustled around max’s wardrobe trying to find a smaller towel for her hair. max wasn’t the most organised, especially with a wardrobe where he could just shut the door and forget the mess behind it. she finally got the towel loose, but with the last yank, a small book came flying out of the wardrobe.

the book was a small leather-bound book, clearly loved, bursting at the seams with use. y/n flicked open the book, scanning a couple of the pages. she could recognise the handwriting anywhere, was this max’s diary?

y/n flicked through a couple more of the pages before she landed on a page that boldly stated “fuck lando” in bold capitals. oh? the page was dated for a day in january 2020, just before she started her formula one career.

she knew this was a massive invasion of privacy, but max had never mentioned having a bust up with lando around that time - her curiosity had gotten the better of her.

i don’t know what lando’s problem is? i was on a discord call with him, george and alex this evening and he was in such a mood with me. it was all about y/n as usual with him, he’s being proper weird about her. of course we’ve already started training and discussing racing lines? we’re best friends. it’s almost like he knows i have feelings for her? but i know i haven’t been THAT obvious, at least not as bad as him and george. they think i don’t know, but they must think i’m dumb or blind (or both). he’s going to ruin his friendship with her if he’s not careful. i have loved y/n for as long as i can remember, but i don’t ever intend on making that her problem - why would she ever want to be with me? they assume because they’ve known her so long that they have this weird claim on her. i don’t know - i have a bad feeling about how this might all play out… i’ll just be there for y/n, she’s going to need it…

y/n slapped the book shut, feeling guilty about just how much she had read. max had liked her for that long? even when she was a jittery rookie with hormonal acne and way too much to say. and lando has always had this problem? there was never any chance of them being good teammates was there?

it feels like there’s a surprise around every corner since y/n reopened the pandora’s box that is formula one. how much was there left to reveal? to hurt her? can she handle what other secrets the sport has waiting for her?

but on the other side, if she had stayed in the shadows, y/n would’ve never known about max’s feelings and would never have the opportunity for what she feels right now.

y/n tucked the book back in the wardrobe and tried to wash the guilt off in the shower.

bahrain international circuit

testing was a boring affair for everyone that wasn’t in or working on the car. y/n was on her third coffee of the morning just out of pure boredom. kimi was in the car for the morning session and despite him paying her salary, toto did not seem like he’d make good conversation based on the frown on his face.

y/n saw sky making their way back down the pit lane and ducked back into the drivers’ rooms. because timing and fate loved y/n, george was leaving his just at the same moment.

it took a concerted effort not to roll her eyes as she forced out a quick good morning. george stopped in his tracks.

“good morning to you too?”

y/n gave him a nod and continued to kimi’s room, george grabbed her hand.

“are we going to have a problem the entire season? all of kimi’s career?”

“why would i have a problem, george? is there a reason i should have a problem?”

george huffed, “listen to me. we used to be so close… i wasn’t the one who crashed into you, why are you treating me like this?”

“george i’m not treating you like anything! 19 other drivers didn’t hear from me, you’re not special.”

y/n took a sip of her coffee, trying to school her heart rate, “you may have not crashed into me, but you hardly said much afterwards. you didn’t even come and visit me in the hospital? you didn’t post or say a single thing about me? you barely could bring yourself to say my name, so please spare me the lecture.”

george opened his mouth to respond but stopped, he tried to make eye contact with y/n but she avoided it.

“i didn’t think you wanted to see anyone to do with formula one! and you’re you! you hate dumb shit like instagram dedications and all that stuff…”

“you and your little partner in crime seem to be baffled about how max was the one who slipped through the cracks and stayed in my life. well read between the lines, idiot! his dedication to me is still pinned on his account, my number is on his helmet and he made the effort after the crash! you did nothing and you still expect me to coddle you?”

george tried to interject, “no! i think you’ve said enough already, george. you say all of this shit about how i led you on, but now you’re bringing up old drama when you’ve been in a relationship for years? so what’s the real reason? because so help me god, you fuck with kimi and i burn this whole place down.”

just behind george, y/n saw toto come into view. the austrian’s face told her that he had heard everything.

“well wasn’t that just great, thank you, you two. next time you have a domestic at track, please lower your voice, the entire garage now knows your business.”

“toto, i can assure you i will be nothing less than professional this season. winning with mercedes is my top priority, y/n will learn her place in this garage.”

even toto seemed taken aback by george’s words. y/n turned, her shoulder knocking george’s on the way past, “i think toto is well aware of who he hired and i know my place, just like kimi knows his… don’t crane your neck too much looking up at him on the podium.”

y/n shut the door to kimi’s driver room, and slid down to the floor. it was only the first day of testing and she’s exhausted. just outside the room she can hear george and toto still talking.

“i’m just saying i think it’s insane and honestly a little disrespectful that you hired her to begin with, toto.”

“i hired her because she was a talented driver and is willing to mentor kimi. i was not aware you two had a problem, and the fact that i’ve heard so much about it now without knowing what it actually is makes me think that the problem was in fact YOU. now calm down and get ready for your session.”

okay, maybe not all hope was lost. but y/n knew that this was just the start, the real racing had yet to begin and who knows how far george could take it, especially if the mercedes is competitive and especially if he finds out about her and max.

y/n popped open her laptop to keep track of kimi’s times on track but found herself struggling to keep her eyes open. by the time her impromptu nap had finished, kimi was making his way back into the garage, finishing the morning session. y/n made her way back into the garage to greet him as he made his way out of the car.

the session looked positive for the italian, but the pair were still anxious to see how george would perform, considering both were on the same program for the day. when kimi lifted his helmet, the two made eye contact, the italian’s eyes were so expressive that y/n could already hear the excited chatter.

“oh my god, y/n that was amazing! i know i’ve driven f1 cars before but knowing it’s actually mine for the season? wow!”

“well i’m glad you enjoyed it, let’s get some electrolytes in you before we sit down to analyse everything.”

the pair headed for the mercedes hospitality, with the other morning drivers doing the same throughout the paddock. during y/n’s nap she had missed the only real incident of the day, but a certain spaniard was about to make sure she knew.

“hey! antonelli!”

kimi’s head whipped around to see an angry carlos sainz charging towards him. the spaniard was clearly taking advantage of the lack of media outlets allowed at testing, getting in kimi’s face.

“you might be a rookie, but you’ll stay out of my way, got it? impede me like that again and we’ll see what happens!”

y/n pulled kimi behind her and jabbed her finger at carlos’ chest. “you self-important asshole, he didn’t impede you it’s testing. i know you’re at williams this season, so you’re going to have to invent a storyline for yourself, but trust me, this is not the one you want.”

“stay out of this y/ln, why don’t you stick to hopping into whoever’s winning’s bed, huh?”

y/n let out a sarcastic laugh, not caring about the small crowd forming around them. “your glory days, well whatever you call being stuck in charles’ shadow, playing politics with daddy to get given wins at ferrari only to be cast aside when you got a bit too big for your boots, are over. don’t be the bitter old bitch that makes rookies’ lives hell? oh wait, you’ve always been that way haven’t you?”

“you are a perpetual victim, y/n. that was years ago, get over it.”

“and yet you still act the exact same way. telling, really.”

carlos stayed quiet this time and y/n took that as the chance to guide kimi to hospitality. with their backs turned, “she won’t always be there for you, rookie! she can’t sleep with all of the stewards and she won’t be in the office to bat her eyelashes. so watch your back.”

y/n kept walking despite kimi tugging on her arm, wanting to retaliate. “stop. let him make a fool of himself.”

despite y/n trying to de-escalate the situation, max was less willing to do so. the dutchman had only heard a fraction but that was enough to rear the head of mad max.

“you think you’re so cute with this shit don’t you, sainz,” max said, looming over the spaniard, “you people never change, it’s pathetic.”

“the only thing that’s pathetic here is you, being her lap dog - and we’re meant to be scared of you? all we gotta do is flash an ankle or raise a hand and you’ll be eating out of our palm.”

max’s hands were shaking by his side and it took everything inside of him not to lunge at carlos. y/n’s grip on kimi tightened when jos was brought up, the crowd around them tensing as well.

“i don’t know what she does for you, but you surely can’t still be falling for it all these years later. i remember at toro rosso when you’d wake up the whole camp screaming in your motorhome and you’d call her crying. a four-time world champion and you still go crawling back to her.”

“she’s worth more than you could ever wish to be. i don’t know what propaganda your dad or lando has been feeding you, but you’re a grown man, you’re too old to be falling for it. now leave her and kimi alone. i’d threaten you, but it’s unlikely that williams will be anywhere near me this season.”

max gave one last look to y/n before running back towards the red bull garage. the crowd that had formed chattered amongst themselves and started to disperse. carlos looked enraged but backed off, not without one final glare towards the italian.

“i didn’t know formula one was just this dramatic,” kimi said, “i need to work on my insults!”

y/n laughed, but a voice from behind her stopped her dead in her tracks.

“always the centre of drama, aren’t you y/n? always looking for trouble.”

zak brown.

fin.

note: wow this took me so long to write and i kinda hate it! i am in such a rut rn idk what to do ? but i hope you guys enjoyed it anyway!

taglist:  @peterholland04@miureiz@freyathehuntress@lighttsoutlewis@aleatorio1234@chaosandevelyn@blueberry648579@dog-and-cat-person230@fastandcurious16@obxstiles@cosmicwintr@becca388510 @savagittariuspy@tibadi @thisbitxhs-blog @finn-dot-com @scenesofobx @moofilms @alilstressyandlotdepressy @nana-love-bugzzz @mayax2o07 @obsessed-fan-alert @1-queenofpotatoes-1 @jajouska @poppysrin @mimimarvelingmarvel @jiyumie @heeseungthel0ml 

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[itneverendshere]

lucky strike - brother bsf! rafe (blurb)

pairing: kelce's!sister x hockey!rafe warnings: none, fluff, flirting, yearning

The party was supposed to be fun. Emphasis on supposed to be.

Your brother had dragged you along, promising it would be “chill,” throwing out all his usual excuses—“It’ll be fun, you never go out, and besides, you know everyone there”—but you should’ve known better.

Now you were stuck in a house full of drunk college students, loud music, and—worst of all—a guy who wouldn’t leave you alone.

He’d introduced himself as Jake—or maybe it was Jack; you didn’t care—and you’d been polite at first. A quick smile, a couple of sentences before excusing yourself. But he didn’t get the hint. 

He was following you around like a lost puppy, trying to impress you with stories about his car and his “networking connections,” whatever the hell that meant. 

“Oh, yeah,” Jake was saying now, his voice raised to compete with the music. “They’re starting me at, like, six figures. But, you know, I told them I’d think about it.”

You sipped your drink to keep from rolling your eyes. “Wow, that’s… something.”

“So, anyway,” he was saying as you edged toward the hallway, “if you ever want to, like, grab dinner or something, I know a great spot. And If you ever want to come down to Florida, I could totally show you around. Take you out on my boat.”

You nodded absently, scanning the room for an excuse, but your brother was nowhere in sight, and every doorway seemed blocked by a crowd.

“You and me? A weekend getaway?”

You froze, brainstorming for an excuse. “Oh, uh—”

Then you saw him in all his glory, Rafe Cameron.

He was leaning against the wall near the kitchen, a drink in one hand, his other casually tucked into his pocket. His messy blond hair looked like he’d just stepped off the cover of some ridiculous sports magazine. He looked completely at ease, this party—and everyone in it—existed solely for his entertainment.

You hated that he was your only option right now.

Rafe Cameron was your brother’s best friend since diapers, your public enemy number one on your worst days. Your stomach did that stupid little thingy it always seemed to do when you saw him, and you hated it.

You cut Jake or Jack off, raising your hand. “I need to go—uh—find my boyfriend.”

Jake blinked. “Your what?”

“My boyfriend,” you repeated, internally cringing at the word and already walking through the crowd toward Rafe. “He’s waiting for me.”

Ugh. You groaned internally. You don’t like Rafe. You don’t even think about Rafe. 

“Cameron,” you said when you reached him, grabbing his sleeve. “Need your help.”

Rafe turned, his blue eyes looking down to where your hand gripped his arm. Then he looked back up at you, his lips curving, “Didn’t think I’d ever hear you say that.”

 “I’m serious.”

His smirk widened. “Even better. What’s going on, princess?”

You glared at him. “Some guy won’t leave me alone. He’s been following me around all night, and I need you to—”

“Who?”

You shook your head quickly, knowing that look in his eyes meant trouble and black eyes. “We’re not doing the ‘caveman throws a punch’ thing. I just need you to pretend to be my…” You paused, the word catching in your throat. “Pretend to be my…”

Rafe tilted his head, watching you squirm. “Your what?”

You shuddered at the thought. “My…boyfriend.”

His smirk was back in full Cameron force. “What was that?”

You crossed your arms in defiance, refusing to let him win this. “You heard me.”

“I heard you,” Rafe nodded, leaning closer, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Just didn’t think I’d live to see the day you called me your boyfriend.”

“Fake boyfriend,” you clarified through gritted teeth. “Don’t make this weird, Cameron.”

But it already was, because just standing this close to him made your heart pound in a way you refused to acknowledge.

“Always knew you had a thing for me, but this? You want me sooooo bad,” he drawled out, tongue kissing his teeth as he pinched your arm.

“Wipe that stupid smirk off your face before I do,” You shoved his touch away, “Help me.”

Rafe’s grin widened, and he opened his mouth to say something dumb—but then Jake appeared at the end of the hallway, his face lighting up when he spotted you.

“There you are!” Jake called, heading straight for you.

“Shit,” you muttered, grabbing Rafe’s beefy arm again. “Just follow my lead.”

Jake stopped in front of you, giving Rafe a once-over. “Hey,” he said, clearly confused. “Who’s this?”

You swallowed, forcing yourself to say the word again. “This is my… uh, my boyfriend.”

The second it left your mouth, you wanted to crawl into a hole. It sounded so fake, so awkward—and Rafe wasn’t helping, because you could feel him staring at you with that stupid smug grin.

“Hey,” Rafe cut in smoothly, draping an arm over your shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world. “You lookin’ for my girl?”

Jake blinked, “Oh. I, uh—I didn’t realize—”

“Yeah,” Rafe patronized, “You wouldn’t.”

Then Jake's stupid eyes widened, “Wait… you’re Rafe Cameron.”

Rafe’s smirk grew impossibly smug. “That’s me.”

Jake’s mouth fell open. “Holy shit. Dude, you’re the Rafe Cameron. Hockey star. I watched your game against Michigan last month—you were insane.”

Rafe shrugged, his hand tightening slightly on your waist. “Appreciate it, man.”

You wanted to die, maybe strangle him.

Jake turned to you, his tone almost accusing. “You didn’t tell me your boyfriend was Rafe Cameron.”

You laughed nervously, trying not to grimace. “Yeah, uh,… it’s not exactly my favorite topic.”

The second the words left your mouth, Rafe’s fingers pinched your waist—just enough to make you jolt—and he leaned down, his lips brushing against your hair.

“Careful, princess,” he murmured, “You’re gonna hurt my feelings.”

You clenched your fists at your sides, not giving him the satisfaction of a reaction.

Jake, oblivious to your little argument, kept gushing. “Seriously, man, you’re a beast. I don’t know how you pull off those plays—”

Jake was too busy gushing over Rafe, throwing out stats and plays like he’d memorized Rafe’s entire career. And Rafe, of course, was eating it up, nodding along like he wasn’t already aware of how good he was.

That’s when you felt it—Rafe’s fingers, toying with the hem of your top.

Your breath hitched, and you glanced up at him, but he was still focused on Jake, his face the picture of calm confidence.

“Yeah,” He was saying, his fingers moving tenderly against your skin. “That Michigan game was wild. You should’ve seen her, though.” He tilted his head toward you. “Biggest fan in the stands. Couldn’t take her eyes off me.”

Your jaw dropped. “Are you—”

“Yeah?” Jake said, interrupting you. “That’s awesome. Must be crazy, dating someone like him.”

You clenched your fists, your irritation bubbling over. “Oh, it’s insane.”

Rafe chuckled under his breath, his fingers teasing your side one last time before Jake finally walked away, muttering something about grabbing another drink.

The second he was out of earshot, you shoved Rafe’s arm off you and glared up at him. “You’re fucking insufferable.”

He grinned, his blue eyes sparkling. “Dial down the foreplay, you’re gonna make me hard.”

This motherfucker, oh my god.

You stared at him, your jaw nearly unhinged from the sheer nerve. “Are you—did you just—” You couldn’t finish the sentence, the words vanishing in your throat as your face warmed.

Rafe, on the other hand, looked entirely unbothered, leaning against the wall like he hadn’t just said the most inappropriate thing imaginable. “What?” he drawled, his smirk practically glowing in the dim light. “You started it, calling me your boyfriend. I’m just playing the part.”

You took a step back, glaring at him like you could kill him with sheer willpower, “How does anyone ever put up with you, oh my god.”

“You’re cute when you’re mad,” he quipped, his smile widening as he reached out to tug lightly on the hem of your sleeve.

You smacked his hand away. “If you keep this up, I’ll go back out there and tell Jake—or Jack, or whoever—that I was lying.”

“Please,” Rafe scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You're not gonna subject yourself to that human LinkedIn profile just to spite me.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but before you could retort, a group of partygoers passed by, a couple of them glancing your way and whispering. One of them—a girl in a glittery crop top—stopped to wave at Rafe, her voice eager.

“Oh my god, Rafe! I didn’t know you were here!”

Rafe gave her a polite nod, his hand sliding back to your waist, his fingers pressing just firmly enough to make your stomach go stupid.

“Yeah,” he said, his tone easy. “Just hanging out with my girl.”

Your head snapped up, your eyes wide with disbelief, “Dude.”

What the fuck is wrong with you?! you wanted to scream, but the girl was already nodding, her smile faltering as she glanced at you.

“Right. Cool. Um, see you around, I guess,” she said before walking off with her friends.

The second she was gone, you shoved Rafe’s hand off you again. “You’re having way too much fun with this shit.”

“Can you blame me?” he asked, face softening into something that almost—almost—resembled genuine amusement. “This is the most fun I’ve had at one of these parties in weeks.”

“Glad I could provide you with some entertainment,” you said dryly.

“Don’t sell yourself short, princess,” he said, his voice dipping slightly as his eyes met yours. “You’re the highlight of my night.”

You forced yourself to scoff pretending his sweet nothing’s didn’t hit home.

“I know you, I’m not falling for your little hockey player charm offensive.”

“Who says it’s an offensive?” he asked, tilting his head. “Maybe it’s just a… friendly check.”

“Friendly?” you repeated, arching an eyebrow. “You don’t do friendly.”

He shrugged, his fingers brushing against your wrist in a way that felt entirely too deliberate. “Maybe you just bring it out of me.”

“Why the fuck is everyone saying my sister is dating my best friend?! Hello??”

Your entire body went rigid as Kelce bulldozed through the crowd, looking thoroughly scandalized. He stopped dead in front of you, his eyes darting between you and Rafe with full-on soap opera disbelief.

Rafe, the insufferable fucking bastard, didn’t even try to keep it together—he straight-up bent over laughing, one hand braced on his knee, the other holding his drink like it was sacred.

“Oh, shit,” he wheezed, grinning wide enough to blind someone. “This just keeps getting better.”

You wanted to drop dead right there in the beer-sticky hallway.

Kelce blinked at you, bewildered. “What. The. Actual. Hell?”

“It’s not what it looks like,” you snapped, glaring at Rafe as he tried (and failed) to recover, his chest still shaking with laughter.

“Yeah?” Kelce shot back, jabbing a thumb toward the swarm of gossiping partiers. “Because everyone’s saying it looks like you two are a thing.”

“We are not a thing,” you hissed, making a couple of people nearby glance over. “He was just helping me ditch some guy who wouldn’t take a hint.”

Rafe, still grinning like a jackass, finally straightened up, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. His voice was warm, low, “Your sister couldn’t resist me.”

You whipped around, shoving his chest hard enough that he stumbled back a step, laughing like this was the most fun he’d had in years. “Oh, shut the fuck up.”

Kelce’s jaw practically unhinged. “Wait. Are you actually into her?”

Rafe tilted his head, pretending to think it over. “Depends—am I allowed to?”

Your eyes narrowed to murderous slits. “I will put you in the ground, Cameron.”

Rafe’s laugh rumbled low in his chest, sending a traitorous shiver down your spine. “God, you’re mean,” he drawled, clearly enjoying himself. “Kinda hot, though.”

Kelce gagged dramatically. “Nope. Nope. I’m out. Y’all are sick.”

“Glad we agree,” you muttered as Kelce stormed off, throwing his hands up like you were a lost cause.

The second he was gone, you turned on Rafe, stabbing a finger into his chest. “This is your fault.”

“My fault?” he echoed, grinning like he’d just been handed front-row seats to your breakdown. “You’re the one who called me your boyfriend, princess.”

You scowled. “Yeah, clearly that was a mistake.”

Rafe’s eyes gleamed, his voice dropping just enough to make your pulse hitch. “Nah. Best decision you’ve made all night.”

You flipped him off. “I’m fake-dumping your ass immediately.”

Rafe had that look on his face—the one that made you want to throw something at him. A lazy smirk tugged at his lips as he leaned casually against the wall, all cocky confidence and oh-aren’t-I-just-so-fucking-charming energy.

“You know,” he started, dragging the words out like he was savoring them, “this kinda reminds me of when you had that crush on me when we were, what, twelve?”

Your head snapped toward him so fast you nearly gave yourself whiplash. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

He grinned wider, eyes gleaming with delight. “You used to follow me around like a lovesick puppy at Kelce’s games. Always sitting in the front row, twirling your hair like you were in some rom-com.”

You made a noise halfway between a scoff and a snarl. “Excuse me? I did not have a crush on you.”

“Yeah? So you weren’t the one who told Kelce I had ‘pretty eyes’?”

He did, in fact, have pretty eyes, so what....

Your face went up in flames. “That was a joke.”

“Sure it was,” he teased, leaning in just enough to make you want to run for the hills. “You totally didn’t write my name in your notebook, either, right?”

Your jaw dropped. “How do you even know about that?!”

“Kelce found it last month and showed me,” Rafe said, completely unapologetic. “Heart doodles and everything. Thought you were writing love songs for me or something.”

“I hate you,” you growled, your face now hotter than the sun.

“You loved me,” he quipped, biting back a laugh. “Or at least your little self did. Cute.”

“I’m going to strangle Kelce.”

Rafe smirked, brushing a nonexistent speck of dust off his sleeve. “Too late to deny it now, princess. I’m your first love, and you just fake-dated me tonight. Full circle.”

“You are so full of shit.”

“Yeah,” he drawled, eyes dancing, “but you’re still blushing.”

“I will kick you in the balls, Cameron.”

“Careful,” he warned, “You’re gonna fall for me all over again.”

[my-castles-crumbling]

bad idea - February 2 - jegulus - @taylorswiftmicrofic - slightly NSFW - word count: 226

“James,” Sirius whispered to his best friend as they walked towards the Great Hall, “this is a bad idea. He’s going to say no, and make a scene besides…”

“It’ll be fine,” James reassured him confidently, though Sirius personally thought his confidence bordered on delusion. 

“Your funeral,” Sirius mumbled under his breath. And, just as he thought, as they approached the Slytherin table, he found himself receiving a disapproving glare. “Hey, Reg,” he said.

“Sirius,” Regulus responded stiffly. Then, he turned to James and broke into a grin. “Jamie.”

“Hi, Reggie! Say, can we borrow your broom for a bit? Sirius and I wanted to play a pickup game with a few other Gryffindors but my replacement broom hasn’t come in from when mine got destroyed last game,” James asked, completely at ease.

Icy gray eyes flickered from James to Sirius and back again. Sirius braced himself for impact. Regulus was very protective of his broom. But the Slytherin just shrugged. “Sure. Anything you need, love.”

Sirius gaped. “What the fuck? You’ve never let me use anything of yours, let alone your precious broom!”

Regulus, however, just gave Sirius a wry look. “Well, Sirius, you break my things when I let you use them. The only thing James breaks is my brain when he puts his hand on my c-”

“Oh, gross!” Sirius whined, stomping away.

[the-offside-rule]

Joe Burrow (Cinccinati Bengals) - Game Day and Grammys

Requested: no but someone asked about NFL imagines and the Pro Bowl and Grammys were on so how could I miss this opportunity?

Prompt: Joe Burrow x singer!girlfriend

Warnings: none other than it being long and full of fluff

Y/n sat in the plush chair of her hotel suite, a stylist curling sections of her hair while another dabbed powder on her already flawless face. The room buzzed with quiet excitement—her team murmuring about last-minute dress fittings, run-throughs, and camera angles. After all, tonight was the biggest night of her career. Five Grammy nominations. Five.

But her attention? Completely divided. On the sleek flatscreen across the room, the Pro Bowl was in full swing. Her boyfriend, Joe Burrow, was out there, tossing passes and leading drives while she got glammed up for music’s biggest stage. She’d wished she could be there, but the Grammys and the game fell on the same night, and there was no way to be in two places at once.

Her phone vibrated in her lap. Another text from Joe.

Joe: This is so much fun. Wish you were here

She grinned, typing back quickly.

Y/n: Wish I was too. But you better be focused, Burrow. No interceptions.

Another buzz.

Joe: No INTs. Just vibes. Also… scored a touchdown. No big deal.

Y/n let out a laugh, her lips quirking as she typed her reply.

Y/n: A touchdown?? Damn, you haven’t scored one of those in a while.

Her stylist stifled a giggle behind her. "Good news?" She smirked. "Joe just ran one in himself." Her phone buzzed again.

Joe: Wow. The slander.

Joe: But fair.

Joe: Good luck tonight, superstar.

Joe: Ja'Marr said if you win two tonight, that makes it 9 grammys you have ever won

Joe: And guess what my number is?

Y/n chuckled at the coincidence. No matter where they were, no matter what they were doing, they were always supporting each other.

Y/n: Alright, QB1. Ill get the Grammy's you worry about not getting tagged.

With one last glance at the game, she turned back to the mirror, ready to take on her own championship night.

The flashbulbs were blinding as Y/n posed on the red carpet, her dress hugging her perfectly while she effortlessly smiled at the cameras. The energy was electric; reporters calling out her name, fans screaming behind the barricades. She was used to this, but tonight felt different. Bigger.

As she moved down the carpet, she began her interviews, each asking the same old question that she had rehearsed about a million times. How does it feel to be nominated 5 times? She had been nominated for Album of the Year, Song of the Year, Record of the Year, Pop Vocal Album and Music Video of the Year. She had been to the grammys before but she had only ever been nominated twice each year. Granted, she did win them, racking up an astonishing 7 grammys in just 4 years, but her once edgey music had shifted to softer love songs, all thanks to a certain quarter back.

She smiled as she moved on down the carpet to her last interviewer, a little kid who she had seen on tik tok time and time again. "Oh my gosh, hello!" She smiled as she did her best to get down onto the kid's level. Her calf were killing her from the heels standing, nevermind squatting down. "You look beautiful. I love the dress." She said. "Thank you! And you look so beautiful too." The child replied. "I have a few questions for you if thats okay?"

"Of course! I would love to hear them." Y/n said warmly as she held her own microphone. "So, obviously this is your record for the most amount of Gammys that you have been nominated for. If you could go back in time and tell your younger self that this would be happening, what would you say?" Finally a way to answer the question of how she felt about being nominated that didn't involve her rehearsed answer. "I think I would tell my younger self to keep going, to believe in myself and don't put the guitar down because it's gotten me this far." Y/n replied. "Your album Nine Sunday Mornings was a very abrupt change in your music. It was more edgey and angsty the last time you were here-" Y/n laughed at the very blunt question. "Why do you think this change happened or is it because you just got bored of that genre?" Now that was a good question.

"I mean, as you said it was a big change. I mean any love song I wrote before was scrapped because I thought it was too sappy so I stuck to breakup songs or rage songs. I think the change came in meeting Joe. From the songs right down to the title it's all him. I remember the very night I met him I stayed up nearly all night writing about the like 5 minute encounter we had and now it's nominated tonight so. I have to give credit where credit is due." She answered. "Have you been keeping up with the Pro Bowl?" Y/n laughed, adjusting the Grammy-branded microphone in her hand. "Of course! I have it on in my hotel room. Joe keeps texting me updates, so I think I might have a better play-by-play than some of the commentators."

Her manager tapped her shoulder to tell her to make her way inside, so she bid the mini-reporter farewell and walked in to the packed venue.

Once inside, Y/n glanced around, trying to spot her team. The Grammys were always a production, but tonight, the room felt even bigger. Row after row of tables and glowing stage lights. She turned in circles, scanning the room. Where were they? Her manager, her producer, anyone?

"Y/n?"

She spun around to see Jack approaching, looking as effortlessly cool as ever. "Hey, are you okay?" She let out a slightly embarrassed laugh. "Yeah, I just… I can’t find my seat. I have no idea where my team is." Before Jack could respond, a familiar voice chimed in.

"She can sit with us!"

Y/n turned to see Taylor Swift standing a few feet away, a warm smile on her face. Taylor, dressed in an elegant yet edgy ensemble, motioned toward her table. "If you don’t mind sitting with us, of course." Y/n hesitated for a second. She didn’t want to intrude- Taylor was with her own crew, and this was a huge night for her, too. "Are you sure?" She asked cautiously.

"Of course! Come on." Taylor said, looping an arm around her gently as they started walking toward the table. "Besides, we have a lot to talk about. I can't believe this is the first time we're meeting." Y/n chuckled, relaxing a little as she took a seat beside her. "Are you going to the Super Bowl?" Taylor asked after a moment.

Y/n shook her head. "No, I’ve never actually been. I told myself I wouldn’t go until Joe is the one playing in it." Taylor’s brows lifted in amusement. "Oh that is goals."

"Plus, I’m heading to his family’s house to watch it with them." She added. "I think it’ll be more special that way." Taylor smiled knowingly. "There’s nothing like watching a game with the people who love him most. Honestly, I think you guys are gonna be there next year." Y/n nodded, already picturing herself in the Burrow family’s living room, wearing one of Joe’s sweatshirts, surrounded by his parents and siblings. It felt right. "Honestly, I don't wanna be too picky but I want a Bengals and 49ers Superbowl. That would cure the world, I think."

"That would be a good one."

Just then, the lights dimmed, signaling the start of the show. Y/n took a deep breath, ready to take on the night—Grammys, football updates, and all.

Joe stretched his arms over his head as he stepped into the hotel lobby, still buzzing from the Pro Bowl. The game had been fun, a rare chance to play a little looser, joke around with the guys, and even run in a touchdown himself—something Y/n was sure to remind him about later. His teammates followed behind him, still hyped up from the day. "Alright." Ja’Marr announced, clapping his hands. "Let’s turn on the Grammys. Gotta see Y/n win some trophies since Joe isn’t bringing any silverwear home."

Joe grinned as he nudged Ja'Marr for that dig, leading the way to the suite where they all piled onto the couches, flipping the TV on just in time to catch the ceremony in full swing. The room filled with snacks, drinks, and casual conversation, but anytime Y/n appeared on the screen, the guys would nudge Joe, who was watching intently, phone in hand, ready to text her.

Then came Best Pop-Vocal Album of the Year.

Joe sat forward, hands clasped as they listed the nominees. He knew how much work Y/n had put into this album—how many late nights, how many times she’d called him exhausted but excited, how much of her heart was poured into every track.

"And the Grammy goes to…"

Not her.

Joe exhaled, lips pressing together as he watched her smile and clap for the winner. She was graceful as ever, but he knew her well enough to see the flicker of disappointment in her eyes. "She said she was gonna be surprised if she got that one. She like, knew Sabrina was winning that hands down."

Then came Record of the Year.

Not her again.

"She got robbed." Russell Wilson muttered. "Bro, you're gonna be the first one singing Not Like Us at the halftime show next weekend." Lamar Jackson replied. "She's in like the toughest categories." James Cook added. Joe didn’t say anything, just shook his head. He hated seeing her not get what she deserved, but he knew Y/n. Knew she’d keep smiling, keep pushing forward. And damn it, he’d keep cheering her on, just like she always did for him.

It didn't matter. 2 down, 3 to go. Music Video of the Year.

Joe sat up straight. He knew this one mattered to her, too. Her video had been a passion project, something she’d fought to bring to life exactly the way she envisioned it. The competition was stacked—the other nominees had incredible visuals, and any of them could take it. Y/n sat at her table, her hands clasped in her lap, holding her breath. Joe could practically feel her nerves through the screen.

"She’s got this." He murmured. "She’s got this, she’s got this, she’s got this, come on, baby."

The presenter opened the envelope.

"And the Grammy goes to… Y/n Y/l/n!"

Y/n gasped, letting out the breath she’d been holding. Taylor pulled her into a tight hug as the entire table erupted into cheers. Joe leapt off the couch, throwing his hands in the air. "Let's go! Yes! Wooh!" The suite exploded with excitement- Ja’Marr was shouting, some of the guys were recording Joe’s reaction, and others were laughing as Joe jumped up, singing along to the snippet of Y/n’s song that played as she made her way to the stage.

On the screen, Y/n’s smile was blinding, eyes slightly glossy as she accepted her award. Joe grinned, pride swelling in his chest. She’d done it. Just like she always did. "Oh my god, wow." She began. "I’ll be honest, I did not expect Music Video of the Year. There had been some amazing Music Videos so I just wanted to congratulate my fellow nominees and their directors." Joe clapped as he listened to her. "I want to thank my team, the fans, my family and all of you who voted for the video. My boyfriend Joe of course, who may or may not be still playing his game of tag football but I'm gonna thank him anyway." His face grew red. "I think that's all I have to say to be honest. Maybe I'll see you up here again pretty soon."

Joe lounged back on the couch, finally feeling like he could relax a little after all the emotional whiplash of the night ao far and he was still buzzing from it. "She’s performing next." Ja’Marr pointed out, nodding toward the TV. Joe sat up again, straightening his hoodie as the camera panned to the stage. The lights dimmed, and then—there she was.

His girl.

Y/n stood center stage, bathed in golden light, singing a balld version of her nominated song. She wore the most stunning outfit—a gold sparkling, elegant number that hugged her perfectly. She looked ethereal. "Jesus Christ." Joe muttered under his breath before saying a little louder, "Her outfit is so pretty." Some of the guys laughed. "Yeah, it is." Ja'Marr teased with a smirk. "You good over there, Burrow?" Russell asked, causing all the other guys to take notice of his blushing face and tease him further.

Joe just waved them off, eyes locked on the screen. Then, just as the song picked up, she reached down, grabbed the edges of her outfit, and-

Riiiipppp

The elegant gown was gone, revealing a bold, dazzling second outfit underneath—sleek, fun, and perfect for dancing. "Oh my God." Joe groaned, immediately hiding his face in his hands as the entire room exploded. The guys were shouting, laughing, some recording his reaction as they all clapped and cheered. "Ayyy! Okay, Y/n!" Ja'Marr called.

Joe shook his head, chuckling as his ears burned. He peeked through his fingers just in time to see her seamlessly transition into the next part of the performance, moving with ease, completely in her element. She was dancing, smiling, engaging the crowd like she was born for this moment. "I didn't know she could move like that! Damn!" Trey said.

Joe dropped his hands, watching as Y/n held the mic out, getting the entire crowd to sing along with her. She looked so happy, completely in control of the stage, like she was having the time of her life. Joe smiled. His teammates might have been teasing him, but he didn’t care. He was just so damn proud of her. As the song ended,she looked aroukd for the camera that would be zooming in on her. She spotted it and winked, before blowing a kiss right to it. Joe reached for the imaginaru kiss and put it to his heart as the guys teased him even further for it.

Joe sat back against the couch, his arm draped over the back as the next category came up—Song of the Year.

"Alright, this one’s huge." Ja’Marr said, leaning forward. Joe nodded, eyes locked on the screen. Y/n had poured everything into this song and she loved it the most for reason unknown to him, and even though she’d already won Music Video of the Year, he wanted this for her. Badly.

The nominees were stacked— some of the biggest songs of the year, including Y/n’s. The room quieted as the presenter opened the envelope.

"nd the Grammy goes to… Kendrick Lamar, Not Like Us!"

Joe exhaled, shaking his head, but before he could react, he spotted Y/n on screen, grinning and dancing along to the snippet of Not Like Us that played through the venue speakers. Joe burst out laughing. "She doesn’t seem too bothered." Trey snickered. "Bro, she looks kinda tipsy."

The whole room chuckled as they watched Y/n dancing up out of her seat singing along as Kendrick made his way to the stage. She was still clapping and smiling, showing nothing but love for the win, and Joe couldn’t help but admire how effortlessly cool she was about it. "She’s just vibin'." Joe said with a smirk, shaking his head.

And then finally came Album of the Year.

Her final nomination.

Joe sat up one last time, his heart pounding a little harder. He could see Y/n on screen, hands clasped together, her lips pressed tight as she waited. The tension in the room was thick, even through the television.

The presenter opened the envelope.

"And the Grammy goes to… Y/n Y/l/n, Nine Sunday Mornings!"

She didn’t move.

She didn’t react at first—just sat there, eyes wide, mouth slightly open. Joe felt like the air had been sucked out of the room before he erupted. "Yes! Let's go baby!" He jumped up again, fists in the air as his teammates laughed, recording his reaction for the second time that night. "That’s my girl! That’s my girl!" He cheered, pacing the room as the suite filled with whoops and applause.

Back on the screen, Y/n finally stood, still in complete shock. As she made her way up to the stage, she kept shaking her head, her mouth open as if she still couldn’t believe it. She took the award in her hands, staring down at it, blinking before looking around. The crowd chuckled. She looked up at the mic, then back at the award. "What?" She squeaked.

Laughter rippled through the audience. Joe grinned, shaking his head. He could practically hear her thoughts—How? Against all those incredible albums? She took a deep breath, exhaling sharply, still looking down at the trophy. "I—I don’t even know what to say, honestly I'm a little drunk so-" Joe smiled proudly, watching her collect herself and begin her speech. She had done it. Two Grammys in one night. And even though he wasn’t there in person, he cheered for her just as loudly as she did for him on Sundays.

"I want to thank the incredible Jack Antanoff for helping me produce this album first and foremost, my team also. But there is one person in particular who I will ramble on about because he was the inspiration for every single song I wrote since the 9th of December 2023, when we first met." Joe felt his eyes watering upon hearing it. He didn’t lile seeing her cry, it often meant he would cry too. "The album itself is a hommage to the fact that it took just nine sunday mornings for us to decide we wanted to become a couple and honestly, those 9 Sunday mornings were the best I could have ever lived through because I got to fall in love with the love of my life." Joe wiped his eyes, lookong down as Ja'Marr patted his back in support. "Joe, wherever you are, I wanted you to know that this award is for you, you can put it right next to the Heisman and my other 8 Grammy's."

Joe chuckled lightly as her little dig. "And just in case this wasnt a clincidence enough already- I'm going to shout out Ja'Marr Chase for this information- this is my ninth Grammy, and its for Cinccinati's number 9." The microphone cut out, singalling that her time for speaking was up. She mouthed a very animated 'I love you' to the camera before smiling and heading off the stage.

As soon as Y/n sat back down at her table, she reached for her phone. Her hands were slightly shaking—part adrenaline, part sheer excitement. The night had been a whirlwind, and there was only one person she needed to talk to right now. She hit Joe’s contact, pressing the phone to her ear as the Grammys continued around her. The line barely rang once before he picked up.

"Baby!" She let out a breathless laugh. "Joe!"

"Oh my God!" He said, and she could hear the pure excitement in his voice. "You were insane. I mean first of all, two Grammys? And then that performance? What was that outfit change? You’re trying to kill me?" Y/n giggled, running a hand through her hair. "Did you like it?"

"Like it? Babe, I almost had a heart attack. These guys aren't gonna let me live it down." She laughed again, picturing Joe hiding his face in his hands while all his guys teased him. "I was just thinking about you the whole time." She admitted, voice a little softer now. "I figured you were watching."

"Of course I was watching." He said immediately. "Are you kidding? We had the Grammys on as soon as we got back. I was cheering for you all night." Y/n smiled, glancing down at her awards sitting in front of her. "It still doesn’t feel real. I mean…Album of the Year? What?"

"You earned that, Y/n. No one deserved it more." She bit her lip, warmth spreading through her chest. "I mean, Billie should have won it." She replied. "Oh my God, I'm gonna cry again."

"No, don't cry." He said quickly. "Not unless it’s happy tears." She laughed, leaning back in her chair. "How was the Pro Bowl? I feel like I barely got to ask you." Joe chuckled. "It was fun. I mean we lost, but it was fun."

"What was the score?" She asked. "Like 76 to 63 or somethin' like that?" He looked around for nods of approval. "Did I mention I scored?" Y/n chuckled. "Yeah and as I said before I haven’t seen you do that in a while."

"Okay, woah." He deadpanned, and she could hear his teammates laughing in the background. "I’m kidding." She teased. "I’m proud of you."

"I'm proud of you too, baby." Y/n exhaled, her whole body finally starting to relax after the chaos of the night. "I just wish you were here."

"Yeah, I know." Joe said softly. "But I’ll see you tomorrow. And then we can celebrate properly." She grinned. "Deal."

"I love you, Baby."

"Love you too, Shiesty "

As she hung up, she clutched her phone to her chest, still smiling. It had been a night to remember— and she couldn’t wait to get home to him.

[ventique18]

Dragon Malleus headcanons

You're used to how he looks in his two-legged fae form. Everyone is, honestly. But the thing is, that's not really how he truly, originally looks like. And though he knows his form of flesh is just as much of who he is as his origin, there are times when he undergoes some sort of withdrawal; a primal need to be back in the skin he was molded in. So he would occasionally spend a few days living his life as a gigantic dragon.

He doesn't particularly like being in his dragon form. He knows he's glorious and takes pride in that, of course, but it's just that it's so inconvenient. He can't fit in places. He can't grab things. He can't make gargoyles. He has to eat an entire town's worth of food just to not be hungry. But most of all, he can't really feel.

He's extremely durable. He's already impervious to damage in his humanoid form, but even more so as a dragon with walls and walls of the hardest material on Twisted Wonderland permanently attached to his body. Which is great, of course-- it's essential to his survival, but it comes with the caveat that no matter how much you touch him, no matter how much you try to show physical affection towards him, he simply cannot feel.

But there is one part of him that's soft. Something that isn't covered inch to inch in scales. His tongue.

So what best to take advantage of this little weakness than to cover you head to toe in slobber, of course?

Take note that him doing so doesn't imply anything malicious (unless you want to, of course). It's just that it's so easy to feel your presence by licking you. He can touch you without accidentally hurting you. And, as much as he refuses to admit it to avoid sounding like a pervert, being able to smell your familiar scent gives him a tender comfort. A sense of welcoming even in this world that refuses to welcome him in his rawest form.

But being covered in slobber isn't exactly the best feeling in the world. When you tell him that, the... fins on his jaw draw back, and he plants himself on the ground; snout partially buried behind his curled claws. Dragons aren't particularly expressive, but you can safely guess that he's feeling guilty of bothering you.

So you offer to help him find somewhere else to touch. He's a bit hesitant-- it seems dragons don't like the idea of exploring their weaknesses, but he agrees because it's you.

And would you look at that. He can feel you when you vigorously rub his belly. The feeling isn't really as detailed as his tongue's, but he can feel something. And it feels rather... Rather... Relaxing. He's huge though, so from your perspective it's like washing a car, but with exaggerated movements as a stroke from your height's head to toe is like scratching a spot for him.

It's tiring, but you persist with the power of love.

So this becomes a habit for you. When he transforms into a dragon, he would ask you to rub his belly, or ask for your permission to be licked if you don't look like you're in a bad mood that day. All of this is done somewhere private, of course.

So when someone would walk in by accident... And witness their prince rolled over like a dog, getting petted on his tummy... It goes to say that the dragon would be gone in a flash; replaced by a very angry, very threatening unit of a man very politely asking the intruder if he saw something. Of course the answer is always "not a single thing, sir!".

You laugh, and ask if he wants to continue with what you were doing. He sighs, refuses, and says he's not in the mood for childish amusement anymore.

"But... I can think of other, more enjoyable things we can do together."

And so the dragon, now in his villainous, irresistibly devilish form, whisks his prisoner away to a place no one knows.

[angelltheninth]

When Arcane Men Get Jealous

Pairing: Viktor, Jayce, Ekko, Vander, Silco, Finn, Marcus, Loris, Steb x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, jealousy, possessive behavior, being protective, kissing in public, biting, holding hands, public display of affection, canon typical violence, suggestive

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: Would die if they were jealous over me. Melt into a puddle. Gone.

When Viktor gets jealous he gets a bit more withdrawn than he usually is. Not that he was ever a social butterfly, however he was always more open and happy to talk when it was with you. So his behavior is odd, he even seems to get quieter whenever you walk into the room. Like he's trying to remove himself from you with silence.

"I am not avoiding you. Look, there has been a lot to do for the past week, I'm sorry if you got a bad impression but I was simply busy. If you want more company, go ask Jayce, or Skye, I'm sure they will be more than happy to entertain you, darling."

Viktor is short with his answers, saying as little as possible to minimize the amount of time he spends talking to you. Not because he doesn't want to talk to you, he loves talking to you, but if he keeps talking there's a chance he might say something he's going to regret. And end up hurting you.

"There you go again with these ridiculous accusations. You won't leave it alone will you? So now it's my fault that your project is running late? I would have been happy to help but someone was too busy talking with... you know what, nevermind. You're right, we both have a lot to do, so let's just drop this conversation and focus on work."

If you keep getting in the way of his work, Viktor will eventually come to a breaking point. Him not being able to work is only adding to his emotions, and he's never been the best at dealing with them. While he doesn't exactly yell at you, it's very rare that he ever raises his voice there's a notable frustration in his words, and pain, fear that you'd leave.

"If I'm being so unreasonable then leave. Go. Have fun. I know it's not idea to be cooped up in the lab all the time. There are so many more things to do out there. if you... want to go with other people I suppose I can't stop you, nor can I stop my own jealousy. How am I being even more unreasonable? I know you wouldn't leave me without talking about it. Look... I do not... want you to leave, working is more fun with you. But am I truly all that you want? Me? This lab? Because you're all I want. All that I can think of."

When Jayce gets jealous he keeps invading your personal space when you're around the person or people he's jealous of. His behavior is nothing innapropriate or pushy. It's just his arm around your waist, just him bringing you that drink you wanted, just him bragging about you a bit too loud and saying how much he loves you.

"You really are great, babe. How in Runterra did I ever find a beauty like you huh? What's that bashfulness for now, I always praise you, and I'm never gonna stop. You're my girl right? I can be a proud boyfriend and talk you up every once in a while."

Physical affection a big deal to Jayce and a way he shows he cares but also a giveaway to his jealousy. He holds your hand longer, his eyes flicker between you and the one he's jealous off, his smile is a bit more nervous when he has to leave you alone. Then there are his kisses, not as gentle, not a little, quick peck on the edge of your lips but a real kiss, lips pressed against yours until you let him know you need air.

"Got a bit carried away there. Ah, sorry, I can't resist you sometimes. All the time. Do you expect me to when you wear lipstick like that? Makes your lips look like they're made to be kissed. By me specifically. I'd kiss you all night long, for the rest of our lives and never get tired of it."

Jayce keeps denying that he's jealous when you bring it up in a teasing way. Logically there's no reason to get jealous, everyone knows your relationship is doing great, in fact you're hardly ever fighting and even when you are it doesn't last too long. How does he turn that part of his brain off? How can he not get jealous when all those people look at you the way he looks at you?

"They're always looking at you. How can you not notice? It's so obvious. You don't notice because... you're only looking at me? That doesn't even make sense! Of course they're looking, you're breathtaking everywhere you go. I just hope that wherever you go, you'll always take me with you, because I want to be by your side forever."

Ekko often jokes about being jealous so you don't pick up on him actually being jealous. A little jealousy is fine but not when it's getting in the way of his missions and operations with his team. He'd been a bit distracted in the past, by one of the Firelights flying too close to you, so he pushed his way between you two.

"It was the formation! Which you would have remembered if you weren't too busy chatting. Come on, Firefly, get your head in this. Otherwise you're gonna make your leader jealous. Wouldn't want that right? What if... what if you get demoted for it? Hey! Ow! I wouldn't demote you, who would listen to all my plans?"

When you have free time together Ekko makes sure to spend as much time with you as possible. If you're together all the time there's less chance that someone else will swoop in and flirt with you. He would never describe his behavior as being clingy, all he wants is to spend free time with his girlfriend. That is perfectly normal behavior.

"What do you say we go out to get some food? We don't have to spend all our time here. Not like the tree is gonna burn down if we're away for a couple of hours right? Besides it's been a while since it was just you and me all alone. Miss being alone with you. Don't you miss it too?"

If the person he's jealous of ever puts you in danger in any way Ekko will go off on them. Harder than he scolded others in the past. He might let some of his jealousy show then, but he storms off, well flies off before you can talk to him. As much as he wants to be alone he also makes room for you on his hoverboard when you float down next to him.

"Shouldn't have went off on them like that. I know, you don't gotta say it, I'll say I'm sorry. Let cool off a bit. You'd think that if they were flirting with you that much they could have been looking out a bit better. I'm always looking out for you. Maybe a bit too much. Sorry if I've been weird about it lately. Would you forgive me if I took you on a romantic hoverboard ride?"

No one wants to piss off a big man like Vander by flirting with his wife. Everyone values their life and their bones too much. But... they stare at you. Quite openly actually. You see it, and you bet he sees it too. He sees everything that's happening at his bar and he won't stand for someone ogling his wife, even if he has to get aggressive about it.

"It's my damn bar, I've got the right to break the table with their heads when they're looking at ya like that. Tell ya what, a lot more people would avoid this place if I started beating up every asshole that looks at ya wrong. Only reason I don't is cause I don't want ya to be mad at me after."

He hasn't banned anyone from his bar in a very long time. Vander knows he tolerates a lot, this is Zaun, and some people don't have the best manners, that's not exactly their fault. But on the other hand if they start something with him then he will finish it. When he tells them to stop looking at you like you like you were one of Babette's workers and they get in his face he will pick them up and throw them out.

"Bastards had it coming. I tried to be nice, then they had to go and call ya names. Ain't no way in hell I'm gonna let anyone insult my wife. Not here, not on the streets, not anywhere. I went there and I wanted to talk to them, tell them to fuck the hell off, they were the ones who started getting violent. So I responded in kind."

Vander calls you over to the bar a bit more often if he sees a particular table is trying to monopolize you. He carries some of the drinks over, the food plates too, or he simply walks up behind you when one of the guys is getting flirty. Seeing his imposing, huge frame behind you, his muscles bulging, is enough to get most to back off you.

"See, darlin', I can talk things out just fine. When people are being smart about it that is. Might have to stop selling so much booze in this place, then they won't be so bold with ya. Ya are a pretty sight, I can't say otherwise. But ya are a pretty sight for me, not them, ain't that right? Mhm. I know, I'm all yer's too."

Silco never ever says he's jealous of anyone. He is the most powerful man in all of Zaun, everyone is scared of him and with good reason. As the Eye of Zaun he knows when people are looking, talking too, and might even try to touch you. Those people are often payed a not so nice visit by his men.

"I did hear about that gang, yes. It's very unfortunate that they don't know how to keep their noses where they don't belong. It's not that big of a loss on our end. There are a hundred people who can do their work, and better. All that matters is that they won't even have to think about not touching you again."

He rarely has to get his own hands dirty when he gets jealous. All it takes is him saying who the target or targets are and he makes them dissapear from Zaun. That doesn't always have to be deadly, but if they're really dumb it is. If Silco feels that you're in some kind of danger then he will keep you close by. He tries to distract you from seeing he's jealous.

"All I'm saying is that we could take a break from work. Sevika and Jinx can handle a week of it. And you and me can lock ourselves up in our home and not come out. The bedroom works perfectly fine too, if you'd rather spend our time in there. And what is it that I'm doing, darling? Jealous? You are an observant one. I wouldn't want you any other way."

The only time Silco will threaten someone in person is if that someone is bold enough to flirt with you in front of them. He can scare people within an inch of their life just by talking to them, he's not just a good businessman, and some people tend to forget that. He has Zaun in the palm of his hand, and everyone in it.

"He did not actually piss himself. Did he actually. Hm, I wasn't look at him anymore to be honest. He was spineless, surprising given he talked to you like he did. Guess he was thinking with his other head a bit too much for his own good. Why are you looking at me that way? Ah, I see. Looks like someone enjoyed watching me put a scumbag into his place a bit too much."

Since Finn isn't someone who would take anything lying down he will be damned before he sees someone coming onto his woman and not do anything about it. He might have a certain charm about him but that doesn't mean he's not ready to makes heads roll the moment when someone crosses any kind of line with you. Imaginary or otherwise.

"Hah, did you see that doll? As soon as I threw one punch he went down. All his buddies ran like rats. Left him all alone there. After all that tough talk and he couldn't even defend himself. Serves him right. He's lucky all I did was break his nose when he flirted with you. I wasn't even that far away."

Finn will make out with you in front of who ever he is jealous of just to prove a point to them. And while he has you moaning, has your head buried against his neck and your body running hot he will look at the other person and stick his tongue out at them, right before making a V with his fingers and putting his tongue between them. He's vulgar but it gets the point across very well.

"All these people looking at what's mine. Now, I can't have that right? I love that you're showing off your body, it's a great body, you know how much I love it. But sometimes I want to keep you away from prying eyes. And if I can't the least I can do is give them a show. Make them know I'm the only one who can touch you."

His jacket is a signature part of his outfit, but Finn will let you wear it. Hell, he will walk over and drape it over your shoulders while not even looking at whoever you're talking to. Sometimes they're not worth looking at when he can look at the pretty way you blush as you touch his hand that's lingering on your shoulder.

"Thought you looked a bit cold there. Keep this on all night. Later on I'll help you warm up my way, a much more fun way. Don't even worry about your perfume getting all into this, love having your scent all over me. And by tomorrow you're gonna be wearing all of my marks."

There are a lot of people in the Enforcers who tease Marcus about having such a pretty wife. He knows you're pretty, but he doesn't like that the department is noticing it so much as well. Not that there's any way for him to hide it, or that he wants you to hide it, that would be a real crime.

"I was not pouting. That is so childish. I was glaring at them. Well, they were the ones who stared first. You visit me at work, like that's such a big deal. We're married, honey, I pick you up from work too. Why is it such a big deal here? I think they're just trying to get a rise out of me."

Won't deny that he's feeling jealous or shy away from showing it. When Marcus notices any of his men flirting with you he makes them work extra hard that day, he gives them more paperwork, something that everyone hates there, or assigns them to the toughest jobs that he knows will take them days to complete. He can't help but chuckle when you visit again and they're too tired to flirt with you, they just say hello.

"What do you mean I'm picking on them? Of course not. You know how hard it is to deal with all these extra cases. Someone has to take on a few more. No, the fact that it's the same Enforcers who gave you flowers that one time has nothing to do with it. You think it does? And do you have evidence of this accusation?"

Marcus isn't shy about kissing you in front of the whole department. If that's what it takes to send them all a clear message to back off. It's always perfectly chaste kisses, but he does make sure that everyone hears him say he loves you when you leave. He smirks when eyes turn to him and he wishes them all a good rest of their day.

"Now you call me petty. All of these accusations and you still don't have any evidence. That's not a very good way to have a case. You've been keeping count have you? Oh. You... actually have been keeping count? I'm guilty? Fine, you got me, you got me. Maybe... that was a little petty of me, but I'm not sorry."

Every time Loris is jealous it's almost impossible for him to hide that fact. He's a big guy, nothing about him is easy to his, not even his emotions. And he's loud, so every time he huffs, mumbles something, or grunts you hear it. Your eyes meet and he looks away, his hand grasping yours and running his thumb over the back of your hand.

'They were staring at you a bit too much for my liking, pretty girl. If they were as tough as they pretend they were they should have held their ground more. Proves they were all bark and no bite. People like that really get on my nerves, and then they talk to my girl like she's single."

Loris invites you to have lunch with him quite often, even more often when he gets jealous of someone who works with him. Dealing with them in any other way would be unprofessional of him, and might get him in trouble. This way he gets to avoid that, avoid them, and spend a nice lunch date with you. No matter how you look at it he's the real winner here.

"Looks so good. But if you keep looking at me like that I might get hungry for something else besides the food. Just try shifting the blame on me when you know exactly how you're looking at me right now. I wouldn't risk it at work, but... if you showed up with a few hickeys on your neck it might get the rest of the department to stop flirting with you."

As much as he tries to make his jealousy go away it's not easy. Loris knows he should be an example for others, after all he had been an Enforcer for a long time, he can't just let his emotions get the better of him. Hard to keep those emotions down when they concern you. If nothing else works he will intimidate people. Easy enough for him. But he would rather that be a last resort.

"If he wasn't ready to throw fists and words at me then he shouldn't have thrown flirty words at you. He should be able to back himself up if he's gonna be saying stuff like that. All I did was pick him up and throw him outside. Hey, I might get in a bit of trouble for it, but at least he'll leave you alone from now on. I'd risk my badge for you if I have to, you know that."

Since he is the quiet type Steb shows his emotions and jealousy is one that he works hard to surpress. Every time he notices that someone is standing a little too close to you he walks over and looks at you, lovingly, then he looks at the other person with a glare, a deadly one. All the while he's standing shoulder to shoulder with you.

"Come now, angelfish, they weren't even worth your time. We both know they only had one thing in mind when they were talking to you. I could see it in their eyes. I don't appreciate that they looked at you like that. And I know you don't either. So I felt like I had to step in."

He is very physical with his jealousy. Steb lets his eyes and touches linger a few moments longer when he wants to make a point to someone. While he knows you don't hate it he also doesn't want to come off as too jealous or too possessive over you. You can take care of yourself and he loves that about you, he's watched you put people in their place often, but there are times where he can't hold himself back.

"I could feel your fingers interlocking with mine. You wanted me to stand close to you when they weren't leaving you alone. Would you have raised your voice if I hadn't walked over? It would be amusing to see it. But I think those kisses we shared also sent an equally powerful message. You didn't have to bit me though."

Steb nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck when he's feeling really, really jealous of someone. He makes it look less possessive than it is, pretending like he's overhearing something you have to say, and then pushing himself just a little bit closer. His cold lips make contact with your neck, sending shivers down your body before he brushes your lips with his thumb and leaves with a smirk.

"That ought to be enough. I could have done more but marking you in public might have been a step too far. We can enjoy things like that in private however. I enjoy being close to you in any context, and if it makes others realize you're not looking for anyone because you've already got a man then I enjoy it even more."

[boypied]

Crush

[best friend] clark kent x male reader

summary: you've been crushing on your best friend for a while now, he is the oppitome of perfection so before his date with lois lane he wants to try out his eating out skills and you are in no position to object his offer.

wc: 1.3k

notes: FDNI, MDNI, ass eating (r!receiving), fingering, body worshipping, hand jobs (r!giving&receiving), ass slapping.

You sit on Clark's bed waiting for him to finish up in the shower and actually acknowledge you since he was the one that invited you over. “Clark, can you hurry-” You start to mutter out until he stumbles into his bedroom where you're sitting down on the corner of his bed, your eyes wandering all over his body but completely staring at his extremely low and loose towel. You gulp down some spit that was gathering in your mouth, and if anymore formed, you would've been drooling over him in a more obvious sense. Clark struts into his room, chuckling quietly to himself as he picks up on your obvious gawking over him. “Bro, I am dying for your help... and I wouldn't ask you to help in this way, but it's urgent” he scoffs out, his voice laced with nervousness with an underlying hint of excitement. Your eyes wander over his body as you watch the water droplets drip down his gorgeously muscular body, “whatever you need! You know you can count on me for anything, you know that.” You mumble out in a soft tone as you gulp quietly.

“This is so embarrassing to ask you, but... can I practice my eating out skills?” Clark asks you with his eyes practically closed, and you stare at him in shock, but hearing those words sends a warm tingly feeling down your body heading right towards your growing aching cock. Your mouth gaped open slightly, taking a moment to process what your best friend of many years just asked of you, “it's just that I'm meeting Lois later and I've been getting the feeling that she's been wanting to take things a step further and... I just don't want to embarrass myself to her, cause I like her a lot” Clark says in a slight whiney tone as he begins to ramble on about how much this will help him out and improve, “This can be like when me and you use to practice kissing with each other before you figured out you liked men, except it will be me figuring out how to eat someone out in the most pleasureable way.” Clark walks closer to you as his ramble continues on and on until your hands reach out and pull open his low hanging towel to reveal his girthy, long and monstrous cock to you. Your eyes widen and Clark gasps at the sudden feeling of being so exposed.

Clark's eyes widen as he stares down at you, “I-I'm only suppose to be eating you out!” His voice extremely shaky from nerves however his cock springs up in excitement revealing how he truly feels about the whole situation. “If you're going to be eating out my asshole then I can ATLEAST see you naked, it's only fair!” You say with a small chuckle which causes Clark to burst out laughing and cover his face to hide his embarrassment. You stand up and keep eye contact as you act all flirty as you slowly strip off naked, you laugh throughout this to hide how excited you really are about this but Clark just stares at you, he slowly nibbles at his bottom lip and you notice his cock leaking like a facet. You reach your underwear as you take a deep breath and pull them down in one swift motion leaving you naked, you both stare at eachother and the awkwardness of being naked in front of your bestfriend slowly slips away and this feeling of comfort and safety crosses over both of you. You turn around and crawl onto his bed shoving your ass into the air revealing your tight, pretty pink and hairless asshole to him. You take a deep breath “I'm ready...” You mumble out as you feel Clark's presence come closer to you as his hands grip against your cheeks spreading them open more giving him a better look at your hole, “w-woah...” he scoffs out nervously.

Clark slowly leans in and hesitantly licks a wet strip up your hole. His eyes slowly flutter shut as he relaxes his body, and his hands forcibly shake your asscheeks creating a jiggle. You gently bite down on your lower lip, feeling the warm from his tongue caressing back and forth slowly but surely pushing past your tight muscle ring and into your soft velvet walls that are clamping around his tongue. Your eyes flutter back and your cock hardens against Clark's bed, “Mhm!” He grunts out until he pulls away and he leans upwards to shove his fingers into your mouth “Suck.” Clark commands of you, his tone dominant and rough, his nervous exterior slips away as his hidden fantasy comes to light. You feel his fingers push into your mouth, swirling around to get them all soaked in your spit. Clark pulls them out of your mouth and gently rubs them against your wet asshole, gently pushing them past your loosening muscle ring and into your velvet feeling walls.

Clark fingers curl inside of you as he reaches his knuckles as your muscle ring tightens around it. You lay your head against the duvet as you slowly sink into it, “C-Clark~” You whimper out in agonising pleasure as his fingers curve against your sweet spot, with each curve he milks your sweet spot sending shivers down your spine and causes your body to jolt. Clark pulls away and sits down next to you, “Do you wanna J-Jerk me off?” Clark asks you nervously as you roll over and continues to breathe heavily. “Mhm-hm.” You nod your head with excitement. You lean back up and wrap your hand around his girthy monstrous cock that you've been dreaming of for some time now, and you slowly begin to beat his meat feeling his pre-cum drip down your hand and you lean down to lick it up grazing your tongue against his tip causing his body to jolt upwards into your hand. You gasp in shock as Clark wraps his hand around your cock and he matches the rhythm in which you're beating his meat in a swift motion. “F-Faster!” You both whimper out simultaneously, and you both turn your heads to make eye contact as both of your hands pratcially move on their own.

“C-Clark, is this too mu- ” You begin to talk as you breathe heavily until he leans in and slides his tongue into your mouth and your eyes flutter shut enjoying the feeling and taste of his tongue in your mouth. Both of your hands go up and down in a swift sultry motion, and you whimper as you feel Clark's other muscular arm wrap around your waist, pulling you closer to him as you both thrust your into each other's hand. “M-MHM!” You whine out into his mouth as you nearer your release “N-Ngh!” Clark grunts out into your mouth as the simultaneous feeling of both your hands moving in a rapid motion beating each other's cocks becomes too much for you both and you shoot your load. The spurts of cum from both of your tips shoot all over each other's bodies, Clark pulls away and breaks the kiss leaving a string of spit from his mouth onto yours.

“Woah” you mumble out as you watch Clark's face redden, and he chuckles nervously. “So did this prepare you for your date with Lois?” You ask him softly with an undertone of jealously, and Clark just stares at you and smirks “There wasn't ever a date with Lois, I just really wanted you.” Your eyes widen in shock, and you jump up from laying on the bed, and you wrap your arms around Clark's neck as his hands travel down your body, and he grips your asscheeks “You should've just said you wanted me... I've liked you for a long, long time.” You whisper in his ear, and he chuckles “I was too embarrassed, but I guess I don't need to be anymore.” You lean back, and Clark smiles softly at you, pulling your naked body closer to his muscular one as he leans into a kiss, passionately feeling his tongue swirl against yours. “I am going to fuck you... extremely hard.” Clark whispers in your ear and you just giggle, you jump up and wrap your legs around his waist ready for a night full of lustfilled pleasure.

taglist ~ @starboye @mailmango @ghostking4m @kingchaospostsstuff @crispysoup318 @inhumanshadows @its-ares @gayaristocrat @cronasluvr @irlsamcarpenter @lucerothings1 @gaefaeyae @dqrkhold @sluttyhusband @sleep-0-deprived

[mulloey]

distracted

bad students must face the consequences of their behaviour. it doesn’t matter who your boyfriend is.

words: 2.9k

part of my february festival event

join my taglist

warnings: dom!professors matz x sub!student reader, teacher-student relationship (hongjoong x you), power dynamics, threesome, punishment, spanking with ruler, very light anal play, face fucking, double penetration (mouth & pussy), under-negotiated kink, unprotected sex, sir kink, degradation, light dumbification etc

i am not responsible for the content you consume.

“What is this?”

He waves the sheet in front of your face indignantly and you recognise it instantly as the test you’d taken last week; the red D scrawled in the top corner gives you away and you huff. “How did you even—”

“Seonghwa,” he says, cutting you off. You’d roll your eyes if you thought you’d get away with it right now.

You knew it was a bad idea, really, dating Hongjoong; he may not have been your professor, but he is a professor, so you should’ve figured he’d be in cahoots with your teachers. It’s not like discretion was a massive concern, anyway; your relationship is an open secret among the staff. It’s technically not allowed, but you’re a grad student, an independent adult and your parents donate enough money to the school that neither of you would be in too much trouble if anyone did find out anyway. So you suppose you shouldn’t be surprised that, when you turned in a piss-poor exam, Seonghwa had run off tattling to your boyfriend. Dickhead.

“I was just having a bad day,” you say. “I studied, really. I don't know what happened.”

Neither of you believe that, but you push your lips into a pout and do your best to look contrite—to play the sweet, innocent girl your boyfriend loves to ruin.

“Joong…” You try to sound scared but you both know you’re not; there’s nothing he could do to you that you wouldn’t enjoy, after all. You’re just as sick as each other.

Hongjoong chuckles, clicking his tongue. He looks thoughtful for a moment, like he’s pretending to be conflicted over whether to punish you or not, but he’s not very good at hiding his excitement. The regretful sigh he lets out when he makes his decision is laughably disingenuous. “Bad girl,” he says, shaking his head. “You know I can’t let you get away with this, sweetheart.”

You open your mouth to respond but he doesn’t give you time; he shoves you down harshly, bending you over his desk so your ass is sticking up in the air. It’s a familiar position that you’ve found yourself in time and time again since you met him and you body prepares itself automatically; expecting him to spank you, you stick your ass up higher and wait with bated breath for the first blow. It doesn’t come. You crane your head around, confused. “Joong, what—” Oh.

You don’t need to finish the question; standing behind you, next to Hongjoong, is the very man who’d got you in this predicament in the first place— your medieval history professor, Park Seonghwa himself. He tilts his head, smiling sweetly. “Good afternoon.”

Your jaw drops. You hadn’t expected this—when did he even come in, anyway? “Joong—”

“You think we didn’t notice how you look at him?” Your boyfriend asks coolly. It’s only because of the cock in his hand, hard and already leaking, that you’re not worried he’s mad at you; no, he loves this. You should’ve known.

“Is that why you failed?” Seonghwa asks. “Too busy dreaming about me bending you over your desk? You have a boyfriend; an esteemed colleague of mine, in fact.” His tone is chiding and you feel yourself flush.

Hongjoong snorts almost petulantly. “As if she cares about that.”

“No?” Seonghwa asks. “What does she care about, then?”

“Pull her panties down and find out.”

Your cunt throbs painfully at the surety of the demand and the dark look in Seonghwa’s eyes as he obliges without hesitation. He doesn’t ask permission before he touches you—he already has it from the one who matters, after all—but when he pushes your skirt up your back, his hands still momentarily; you smile into the wood as you realise what they’re both looking at—the white, lacy panties sitting snugly across your pert cheeks.

“Well, isn’t that a sight.” Seonghwa’s voice is hoarse and affected as he rubs a hand across the delicate material. You feel yourself tense under his touch, the unfamiliar feeling of his skin on yours, and he gently pinches the soft flesh. “Relax,” he mumbles. “Be good, yeah? I won’t hurt you, I’ll be gentle.”

A sweet sounding lie; you can tell from the heaviness of his hand as it comes to rest on your ass that he has no such intentions. He fingers softly at the lace of your panties, sighing ruefully. “These really are beautiful,” he muses. “I hate to have to take them down like this, but bad students have to learn, don’t they?”

“They certainly do.” You crane your neck to follow your boyfriend’s voice and find him leaning against the wall behind Seonghwa, staring you down with familiarly cold eyes. He cocks an eyebrow when you finally catch his gaze. “Got something to say, precious?”

“No, sir,” you whisper.

“Turn around, then,” he smiles. “I’m just here to watch.”

You turn back, though more so he doesn’t see you roll your eyes than out of a desire to obey him. Seonghwa has carefully shimmied your panties down to the middle of your thighs and the cold air of the office bites at your sensitive pussy.

“Spread your legs,” he says. “Show me how wet you are.“

Blushing furiously, you part your legs, spreading them as far as you can without snapping the panties bunched around your thighs. Seonghwa hums, running a long finger through your wet folds. The touch is unexpected but Hongjoong’s trained you well enough that you manage to stay still despite your surprise. You whine a little when he pulls away and you hear both men chuckle.

“Professor Kim,” Seonghwa says. His voice has a new quality; delicate and flirtatious as he addresses your boyfriend. “Come and taste how wet she is.”

You hear Hongjoong approach the elder and try to move around to see it, but Seonghwa’s firm hand on your neck holds you still. “I don’t think so, bad girl,” he tuts. “Only good little girls get to watch. Keep still.”

“Good call,” Hongjoong purrs. “She’s always loved seeing me with other people. Little pervert would probably start humping the table if she saw me doing this.”

You hear the wet, lewd sounds of Hongjoong sucking at Seonghwa’s finger, lapping up your juices with a noise of pleasure. “Delicious little slut,” he chuckles. “Let’s get her properly disciplined so we can play with her how she wants.”

Somehow you hear the wide grin in Seonghwa’s voice as Hongjoong backs away. “I quite agree.”

His hands rests on your ass again, squeezing it softly. “This is what’s gonna happen, little one. You got a 48 on my exam, didn’t you?”

You’re almost embarrassed to hear the number and you know Hongjoong is too. “Yes,” you whisper.

“Yes, Professor will do,” he says. “You’re not my friend, sweetheart. You’re just a wayward student being put back on the right path.”

Shame courses through you but it would be a lie to say it’s anything but thrilling. “Yes, professor,” you whisper.

He taps your ass appreciatively. “Good girl. So, you got a 48 on my exam. What was the pass mark?”

“60, Professor,” you mumble.

“Now that’s not very hard to achieve, is it Professor Kim?”

“It’s not. The pass marks in my class are higher, in fact.”

You want to roll your eyes at their smug, jovial tones but you’re too aroused now to do anything but anticipate.

“A pathetic score, really.” Seonghwa’s voice is closer than ever and you feel his presence just inches away. “Especially for such a bright young woman. I think you need to learn to separate your head—” he gathers a piece of your hair, gently folding it behind your ear “—and your pussy, hm?”

“Yes, Professor.”

“Good.“ Something long and thin taps at your bare skin and you recognise it instantly—the wooden ruler Hongjoong keeps in his desk drawer for when he’s feeling particularly on-the-nose about the taboo nature of your relationship.

“I’m going to hit you with this twelve times,” Seonghwa purrs. “For each of the marks you easily could have gotten if you hadn’t been too busy imagining my cock in your mouth. Yeah?”

You nod, feeling yourself pulse. “Yes, Professor.”

“Repeat after me, alright?” The first hit is quick and sharp, spread over your ass and it makes you gasp. Seonghwa chuckles and rubs the reddening flesh before he grabs your hair, yanking your head back to whisper in your ear. “One,” he says. “I’m sorry for being such a slut, Professor.”

You repeat it quietly and he tuts. “Louder than that, love. I’m sure your boyfriend wants to know you’re learning your lesson.”

You oblige, repeating it louder and he makes a noise of satisfaction before the ruler comes down again, this time at the tops of your thighs. “Two,” he says. “I’m sorry for thinking with my pussy instead of my head.”

“Two, I’m… I’m sorry for thinking with my pussy instead of my head.”

The next hit lands in the same spot. “Three. I’m sorry for dripping over Professor Kim’s desk just from being spanked.”

You blush in embarrassment; you’d half hoped he wouldn’t notice, but that was a tall order anyway. When it comes to Hongjoong and anything to do with him, you’ve never been subtle.

The next hits follow the same pattern, spread across your ass and thighs with each one making you gasp louder than the last.

“Four. I’m sorry for making Professor Park waste his time disciplining me.”

“Five. I’m sorry for daydreaming about choking on another man’s cock.”

“Six. I’m sorry for being arrogant enough to think I’d get away with such an embarrassing performance.”

The last one hits you right on your dripping pussy, making you scream and he grabs your hair, spinning you around to face him and your boyfriend; your eyes hone in on Hongjoong’s cock, pulsing in his hands before Seonghwa forces your attention back to him. “Twelve,” he growls. “I’m sorry for being such a cockwhore that I’m making Professor Park break his rule about sleeping with students.”

You can’t help but grin as you repeat his words, feeling proud. Of course, you knew from the moment you turned around and saw him standing there what was going to happen, but it’s nice to hear it from him. He smiles, grasping your neck gently. “Did you like that?” He asks. “Getting spanked by your professor while your boyfriend jerks off to it?”

“Yeah,” you breathe. “I liked it.”

“Well, now that you’ve learnt your lesson,” he says, “I think it’s time you got fucked, no?”

You nod and turn to your boyfriend; he tilts his head, nodding towards his hard cock. “You know what to do,” he says.

“Yes, sir.” You sink to your knees, staring up at Seonghwa and sending him a teasing smile before crawling towards Hongjoong. You open your mouth, letting him push his dick inside; after all this time together, he doesn’t need to ease you into it anymore and can go straight to fucking your mouth and you take it diligently, opening your throat the way he’s trained you to. You hear Seonghwa whistle, admiring.

“She sucks cock like a fucking pro,” he laughs; the arousal in his voice is thick and unmistakable. “You’ve trained her well, Hongjoong.”

Hongjoong laughs too, patting your head. “I had an excellent student,” he grins. You smile around him at the praise and he curses. “You’re too good at this, babe, Jesus. Gonna cum before I even fuck you.”

He thrusts into your mouth a few more times before pulling out abruptly, shoving you off of him and in an instant Seonghwa’s hands are in your hair as he pulls you to your feet and shoves you back over the desk. You collide painfully with the wood but you barely notice; you’re used to being manhandled by now, and it only makes you more excited.

Large hands you recognise as Seonghwa’s grab your ass cheeks, pulling them apart slowly; the air hits your exposed holes and makes you jump in surprise but you quickly regain your composure. As you still yourself again you feel Hongjoong’s finger running gently across your asshole, almost like he’s inspecting it, before it slides down to toy with your pussy.

“Hm…” Seonghwa’s voice is teasing. “What’s your favourite hole of hers, Professor Kim?”

“What a question,” Hongjoong chuckles and you hear the smile in his voice. His finger prods gently at your rim, making you tense unconsciously and he tuts, lightly slapping the tight little hole. It’s a subtle, painless chastisement but it makes you whine all the same. “Now, now, kitty cat,” he chuckles. “I didn’t train you to squirm, did I?”

“No, sir,” you mumble.

“Good,” he says. “To answer your question, Hwa, I’d have to say her pussy. I love her ass, of course, but nothing compares to the way that little cunt clings to my dick like it’s just begging for a baby.”

“Well that does sound nice.” Seonghwa’s hands leave your ass, returning to your pussy to spread you open. “It looks snug,” he says. “What do you think, little one? Want your professor to breed you?”

It takes you a moment for your brain to catch up with the rest of you and you frown in confusion. “I- you mean you, Professor Park?” You ask. It comes out as more of a strangled cry; your head is a mess of arousal and you barely even register what he’s saying to you, let alone comprehend it fully.

He laughs, patting your soft skin gently. “Yes, perhaps I should be more clear. It must be confusing to be bending over in front of two of your teachers.”

Your face burns at the obvious mockery; the degrading, sneering tone of his voice but you say nothing. Seonghwa hums. “So?” He asks sweetly. “You want me in your cunt, baby girl?”

“Yes,” you breathe. “Please, Professor.”

“There’s those manners,” he praises.

He keeps a firm grip on your hips as he slides in from behind; the feeling of his skin against your still burning ass is uncomfortable, but the way his cock is stretching you as he buries himself inside you is the only thing your brain can process right now.

He’s just as big as Hongjoong, maybe a little bigger, but his thrusts are more fluid and controlled; where Hongjoong fucks you like an animal hungry for more, Seonghwa fucks you with precision; with intention. His hands on your hips are firm yet gentle and the way he finds you in your deepest places has your head spinning with euphoria. “Jesus,” he curses. “Pretty little thing, aren’t you?”

You open your mouth to respond, barely getting a whine out before you feel hands in your hair, yanking at it to pull you forward. Hongjoong comes into view on the other side of the desk, his dick somehow still hard as he feeds it into your mouth. “There you go,” he coos. “Keep it hard, baby.”

You nod as best as you can and the friction against his dick makes your boyfriend groan. “Fuck,” he mutters. “You’re so fucking good with cock you could make me cum on accident.”

The feeling of two dicks inside you makes it hard to focus on either one; let alone to begin to process the filthy words they spit down at you. Intesd you close your eyes, letting the tears fall as Hongjoong starts to fuck your throat again; you’re limp against the desk now, held up solely by the wood and by the two men using you to satisfy themselves. “Oh shit,” Hongjoong says, seeing your dazed expression. “Baby’s gone dumb already.” He strokes your hair gently, a small comfort between punishing thrusts. “You okay, little dove?”

You groan in response, unable to do much else; it makes them laugh and Seonghwa pats your ass affectionately. “You’re doing so well,” he says. “I’m almost there, sweetheart. Gonna fill you up real nice, yeah?”

“Y-yeah,” you gasp.

The feeling of Seonghwa’s thrusts growing faster and harder and more desperate is overwhelming; coupled with the sensation of Hongjoong’s cock hitting the back of your throat again and again, it’s almost unbearable. Your fingers claw against the wood, surely leaving marks but you don’t care; you feel unlike you ever have before, stuffed full and used by two of the most attractive men you’ve ever even imagined.

You’re in so deep that you don’t even realise it’s over until the emptiness of your mouth and cunt becomes obvious; you feel cum leaking from your hole, a wet substance dripping down the desk and only when you look closer do you figure out what it is—squirt. You squirted. You squirted all over your boyfriend’s desk with another man’s cock in your pussy and you’ve never been more fucked out and satisfied than you are now.

When you stand up fully your legs, numbed and weakened by their abuse, start to give out but Hongjoong is there in an instant; he catches you in his arms, lowering himself to the ground so he can cradle you in his lap. You’re faintly aware of Seonghwa’s voice and strong hands stroking your hair before he’s gone, and it’s just you and Hongjoong.

“Good girl,” he mutters. “You took that so well.”

“Really?”

“Of course,” he smiles. “I only hope your performance in Professor Park’s class improves soon. Otherwise he’ll have to tutor you if you want to keep your spot in his class.”

Your heart jumps. “What?”

“Uni rules,” he shrugs, appearing nonchalant but the knowing smile on his face tells all. “If you fail two exams in a row, that’s what happens.”

You don’t know why he seems so surprised when you turn up in his office a month later with a D-minus and an already leaking pussy. He always knew you were insatiable.

Lucky for you, so are they.

—

comments/reblogs appreciated! i’m not sure im super happy with the ending but we move. let me know your thoughts! love🖤🖤🖤

ateez taglist: @pixie0627 @hon3ysun @bbdeongi @hwaromi @tangerineastronaut @fancypeacepersona @aloevendetta (unable to tag: @lemonkait00 @mylovelymito)

february festival taglist: @hohongsan @nopension

[fuzzyleapfrog]

The Institut für Sexualwissenschaft was run by Magnus Hirschfeld, who had his German citizenship revoked and died in exile. The book burning was a clear signal and erased a huge part of research on queer people, as so well stated in this post. Today's equivalent could be the removal of online resources and the withdrawal of access and licences to ressources once free or purchased.

The Wikipedia article on Magnus Hirschfeld captures extremely well what Magnus Hirschfeld's research meant to individual queer people and to the queer community as a whole. I so wish I could stop being afraid of history repeating itself.

Content Warning: Mention of Suicide

In particular, Hirschfeld cited the story of one of his patients as a reason for his gay rights activism: a young army officer suffering from depression [...], leaving behind a [...] note saying that despite his best efforts, he could not end his desires for other men, and so had ended his life out of his guilt and shame. [...] the officer wrote that he lacked the "strength" to tell his parents the "truth", and spoke of his shame of "that which nearly strangled my heart". The officer could not even bring himself to use the word "homosexuality", which he instead conspicuously referred to as "that" in his note. However, the officer mentioned at the end of his suicide note: "The thought that you [Hirschfeld] could contribute a future when the German fatherland will think of us in more just terms sweetens the hour of my death."

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Magnus_Hirschfeld

Btw, this is how conservatives keep getting to claim that trans people are a new thing no one has ever heard, because our history and existences have continually been erased or obscured systematically through out history.

The most famous example was 92 years when the Nazis raided the library of the Institut für Sexualwissenschaft, the medical practice where the term transsexual was first coined and the first gender affirming surgery was performed in in 1931.

What did the Nazis do after raiding the library on May 6th, 1933? You may be familiar with these images

It is happening again.

[gardenfairie]

This question asked by a mileven to finn wolfhard might've been one of the best proofs bylers got today lmao.

There is so much to unpack here.

"What makes miIeven so strong?" — Finn didn't address this at all. Is their "love" really so strong if he can't easily speak on it? lol. Caleb was going on about how unconditional and forever lumax's love was today. Those were the words he used. And Noah went on and on about byler's bond at his last panel in 2024.

Instead of answering how their love is so strong, Finn starts talking about how romance was the last thing on Mike's mind when he met El. This easily kills the 'love at first sight' from the monologue, which is hilarious because the questioner is asking "how does Mike's monologue impact them after season 4". So not only did he ignore the question, but he also contradicts the monologue that the questioner wants to hear more about, not once, but THREE TIMES 😭😭😭

"I dont think romance was on his mind even when he initially found eleven" "didn't perceive himself to be in any romantic relationship" "that wasn't even on his mind"

Next he's comparing el to ET: the least romantic dynamic ever. ET is an alien that a boy named elliot takes care of. So apparently that's how Mike initially saw El— like a pet he had to take care of. (This is not news and has been said multiple times by the duffers and finn by the way). Oh and ET says goodbye and leaves at the end of the movie.

"relationship with a lot of people", "feelings towards someone" — Keeping it gender neutral I see :))

"first love", "that relationship is his first romantic feelings for someone" — Usually people signify the relationship being a first because it's not the LAST either *chuckles*. Interesting how finn doesn't say anything like "that relationship is his ONLY romantic feelings towards someone" if he wanted to emphasize how deeply in love they are like how the questioner so clearly wanted him to lol

"going into season 5", "still a couple going into it" — So he said not once but twice "going into..." He seems to want to make it really clear he's ONLY referring to the beginning of the season and nothing else, because it's literal common sense. mike and el ended off season 4 together, so yeah no fucking duh they're starting off season 5 together?? Like what lol.

"that's all I can say about 5" — So zero indication that Mileven are still together in the middle, or the end, or anywhere beyond the start of season 5.

Now what would be a better more pro-mileven response to this question? Probably something like this (I'm essentially taking stuff Noah and Caleb have said about byler and lumax and mashing them together):

The romantic relationship between Mike and El is a foundational element of stranger things. What makes them so strong and how does Mike’s confession impact them after season 4?

I think what makes Mike and El so strong is their unconditional love and connection with each other, just as what Mike's confession showed. I can't give spoilers about season 5, but I'm just excited for you guys to see it. Like I think all throughout the seasons, I have have so many great scenes with millie. I can't spoil anything but Mike and El's relationship has been so important all throughout, and you'll see what they will face in season 5.

[diushek]

The Omega Shen Yuan who reached his 35s single and without future views of a couple, accepting that promise he made with his (not) best friend Shang Qinghua that if they reach 35 years old single, and are still friends, they will have a baby together.

Shang Qinghua is an Alpha, and okay, he's not too good a match for Shen Yuan, but from the years he's known him, he thinks he can be a good father. And although they could spend money on assisted fertilization, it's a tedious process so, err, they do it traditionally.

They wait for Shen Yuan to come into heat, Shen Yuan goes off his birth control weeks in advance, things happen. The less said about it the better. It's for the greater good or something. Shen Yuan only hopes that one heat will be enough, because genuinely repeating it is not in his most enthusiastic plans (although he appreciates the company and comfort of his best friend).

And about two weeks later, Shen Yuan meets Luo Binghe.

Luo Binghe is absolutely great, of course. He works in a small restaurant and his dishes are delicious. Shen Yuan and he become fast friends; Shen Yuan has a delicate palate, Luo Binghe's cooking is exquisite, and his company is pleasant. He's funny in a dark sort of way, strong, beautiful as a young model, with a strange amount of hobbies like martial arts, collecting jewelry that he doesn't wear... Luo Binghe is wealthy but doesn't spend on nonsense, which makes Shen Yuan theorizes that he was not always someone well-positioned in society. He finds himself going to his restaurant almost every day even though he could order delivery just for Luo Binghe's company.

And Luo Binghe starts flirting with him.

It's... At first, it's strange. Shen Yuan doesn't want to believe it. Shang Qinghua URGES him to open his eyes because FUCK THAT PRETTY BOY IS FLIRTING WITH YOU. Shen Yuan tries to flirt awkwardly, according to himself it doesn't go well, but Luo Binghe seems to fall quickly. They go on a date that ends with a sweet first kiss.

So, they're on their third date going to a movie theater, when Shen Yuan smells popcorn and nausea hits him so suddenly that he barely makes it to the bathroom.

As he finishes disposing of his lunch in the wc, with teary eyes and Luo Binghe rubbing his back, he suddenly thinks: it's been almost two months already. Oh fuck.

The date is cancelled, Luo Binghe accompanies him to his apartment and they say goodbye. Luo Binghe promises to come back as soon as Shen Yuan calls him, giving him privacy with a worried expression. Shen Yuan just stammers having eaten something bad and lets Luo Binghe leave with his heart in his mouth.

He then calls Shang Qinghua at least thirty times and places orders at a pharmacy for five different pregnancy tests. The tests arrive before Shang Qinghua. When Shang Qinghua arrives, upset and worried but with a fresh scent of an omega that Shen Yuan does not know, all five tests come positive.

... They have no idea what they're going to do with it.

Two months ago, they literally... weren't dating. They had nothing but an agreement to start a family if the opportunity came. So as not to lose the experience for the sake of time. Because they both wanted. Now, Shen Yuan thinks he might really be falling in love with Luo Binghe... And Shang Qinghua literally just dumped an omega in his bed!! What the hell are they going to do now!?

Shen Yuan wants that baby. No matter what, he wants this family. So, they decide: they will go on a double date with their current partners, and explain the situation to them. They can agree whether to leave or stay.

... Shen Yuan doesn't expect Luo Binghe and Mobei Jun to meet each other. He also doesn't expect the omega Mobei Jun to be the tallest man he's ever seen. He doesn't expect them both to look a little upset, but to decide to support their partners in that. The road to fatherhood. God, they must be so screwed.

They make a good deal: for the baby's first years they will practically share a house, Shen Yuan can afford to rent or buy something bigger. So, the baby will grow up with his parents together to help and educate them. From the third, fourth year, they will be able to move and will share equal custody, and both of them will be able to see the baby at any time, it's not like they were divorced with a legal agreement or something. Not a bad plan.

Shen Yuan wants to consider himself mature about this. He's going to be a father, he's having a baby, he has to take control of the matter.

Now, he has no idea how he is going to position Luo Binghe (and Mobei Jun) in his life, because it seems that Luo Binghe is planning to stay so much that he is already planning the decoration of the baby's room... with Mobei Jun who insists that the color blue is unisex if you don't give a fuck.

Ah. Well, he has a pack, of sorts. His baby, him, his boyfriend, his baby's father, his baby's father's boyfriend. All families come in different shapes and sizes, don't they?

[threeacttragedy]

Entry 18: The One Where Two Roads Diverged in a Wood of GIFs and Written Words

“Lukola Crisis Hotline. How may I be of service?”

Me: Houston, we have a problem.

Dad: Do tell!

Me: You won’t believe who showed up last night! –

Dad: Oh, my goodness! Oh, my goodness! Whoa! I don’t know what to say! Wait – let me grab my Coke and my smokes. <waiting> Okay, I’m back. So, Misty appeared out of nowhere with Thang?! Well, this just got fun! <laughing>

For clarity’s sake, my father tends to give everyone a pet name. Some of the pet names are funny; some are quite cruel. But if they help him remember who the players are in this fandom (and in any other situation), I’m game to play along. Plus, his pet names tend to add a little comedy relief to whatever is being discussed, especially when it is not an outwardly funny subject.

In Lukola-Land, Luke is “Thang” (it’s actually “Thing” – as in the hand from The Addams Family – but my dad’s accent muddles the pronunciation into “Thang”); Nicola is “Ireland,” for obvious reasons; Antonia is “Misty,” for, umm, the Clint Eastwood movie, “Play Misty for Me;” and Jake is – well, Jake is actually just “Jake” because my father finds the USS Jakola offensive. In fact, when I was discussing the recent fandom events with him on Friday evening, my dad was genuinely shocked to learn the Jakolas still existed. His pet name for the Jakolas is “Fucking Stupid,” by the way.

Moving on to the matter at hand –

There’s been so much “noise” over the past few weeks that, when taken collectively, it is rather eye-opening. We’ve got Luke’s mother posting on Facebook about “Luke’s girlfriend…from Cyprus.” The leaked funeral video and photos (by allegedly Luke’s family). The Best in Show pap pictures of Nicola and Jake. The “just friends” interview. The disappearance of Jake (because he’s rehearsing for a play) and the sudden reemergence of Antonia.

If you’ve noticed from my recent entries on this blog, I have obviously found most of what has happened of late to be comical and not worth putting into written word. Instead, my thoughts have been dumped into GIF stories. To be honest, I was rather disappointed I couldn’t put this last part – Antonia emerging from the misty edges of the forest – entirely into a GIF story. Her reappearance was like a certain Bond villain coming back to life for the seventh time. In other words, it was total cringe. But it also altered an otherwise slow burning campfire into a motherfucking forest fire.

Me: Thoughts?

Dad: I need some time to think about this one – and a cigarette. Or two. Call me back in 15 minutes.

“Psychotic Fan Rescue Center, at your service.”

Me: You’re a dumbass.

Dad: <laughing> Well, this is insane. It makes no sense and it’s a convoluted mess. Why bring Misty back? She was killed off two seasons ago.

Me: No shit, Sherlock.

Dad: Hell, maybe this has all been a nest of vipers.

A nest of vipers? Ah, yes, the idea that we have a group of venomous snakes thrown into the same close-quartered trench – in an every-man-for-himself type situation – each taking strikes at the others whenever their backs are turned.

In Entries 1, 13, and 15 – with an emphasis on “Entry 13: The One Where the Ashes Blew Towards Us with the Salt Wind from the Sea” – I wrote about what the Lutonia narrative could look like, if real. I will not rehash in detail those entries here, but I will link them at the end of this entry if you want to read, or reread, them.

Now, the General Audience almost certainly didn’t pay a lick of attention to Antonia when she appeared alongside Luke at the Boss event held January 30 (she’s always just been a Face in the Crowd). But the sudden reappearance of Antonia stopped the Lukolas dead in their tracks because – like my dad said – she was seemingly killed off two seasons ago.

The Lukolas have suddenly found themselves at an intersection of confusion and, likely, a bit of distress. The long and winding road we’ve been traveling along has diverged into two paths – and, no, you cannot travel both.

The problem with the Lutonia narrative has always been that Luke has never formally acknowledged Antonia as his girlfriend. In fact, Luke had the perfect opportunity to do so when he posted about the Boss event on his Instagram grid – but he did not. I could rationalize the idea that Luke and Antonia wanted to keep their relationship private after the Papsmear misstep if it weren’t for the fact that Antonia has been historically loud in her social media posts. We spent the summer and fall with insinuation post after insinuation post from Antonia. Yes, all those posts that alluded to her being with Luke without any actual evidence that she was, in fact, with Luke. By the time Antonia got to “Pasta-gate” in mid-November, the Lukola fandom barely even blinked before dismissing her as, well, the antagonist from “Play Misty for Me.” And this leads to something even more problematic for the USS Lutonia – Luke has never rescued Antonia from being ridiculed and torn apart by the fandom. My dad would call – and has called – Luke a cad for this.

Jumping to the other side of this misshapen triangle, we have Nicola and her Assassin (my dad’s pet name for JVN). Assuming Lutonia is real, the only logical answer for Nicola’s behavior is that she has spent months trolling Luke, Antonia, and <gasp> the fandom. Nicola herself has admitted to being chronically online and, at a minimum, being aware of fan edits – so much so that during the London premiere she commented that she and Luke “can’t do anything” without the fandom reacting to it. Therefore, I will call “foul” on anyone who tries to persuade me that Nicola was unaware of, at a minimum, how the Lukola fandom had reacted to the Claddagh ring, Chaos Week, and the October airplane posts. JVN openly mocking Antonia on social media with, for example, their Slick Back Bun routine only added fuel to this fire.

For shits and giggles – and so I can get to the bend in this road – we will roll with my dad’s “Nest of Vipers” theory for a moment. We will concede that Lutonia is real, which, in my opinion, makes Luke the absolute worst boyfriend in London and Antonia a woman who doesn’t mind being treated like roadkill. It also, unfortunately, makes Nicola and Fan Favorite JVN come off like online bullies – with the only plausible reasoning for the bullying being that Luke and Nicola are at odds with each other. No, I take that back – they’re not at odds with each other – they’re seemingly at war with each other. I’ll even amp this up a bit and throw in the suggestion that, assuming Lutonia is real, Netflix & Co. is aware of the strife between its two Polin actors and are protecting their asset with blurred Polin-Lukola posts to pacify the fandom. Dun-Dun-DUNN! And yes! That was a sly nod to Jake.

Me: Thanks for that. You just made Luke into an absolute prick and gave Antonia’s starring role in “Play Misty for Me” to Nicola.

Dad: Hey, I’m not the one who dug up Misty! That was all Thang!

Me: Then why does everyone say Luke is the nicest person? Nicola, his co-stars –  

Dad: All lies.

Me: Would you STOP?!

Dad: But I’m serious! Thang could be a complete pig behind closed doors and Ireland could be on the verge of a psychotic meltdown because, uhh, maybe she’s obsessed with Thang and pissed he chose Misty.

The unfortunate thing about this Nest of Vipers theory is that I could almost certainly make a convincing argument that it was legit. I’ve always joked with my Inner Circle of Lukolas that no one wants to see me go rogue, especially not – I’ll bite my tongue on that one. But I will emphasize the importance of keeping an open mind when you’re reviewing information. Always consider both sides of the coin. That said, it’s hard to ignore the evidence that was presented to us through the World Tour interviews and behind-the-scenes footage; therefore –

Me: I’m having a hard time believing Luke is someone who wouldn’t protect his girlfriend. He seems to support Nicola online quite a bit. Why wouldn’t he do the same for Antonia?

Dad: <laughing> Fine. Antonia isn’t his girlfriend. Maybe it’s all just a bunch of fuckery like I’ve always said.

“Fuckery” is my dad’s pet name for PR bullshit. If you didn’t pick up on it in previous entries, I am not fond of PR theories. But I also cannot ignore that PR relationships do exist and have for decades (hell, we could go back centuries and find examples of PR relationships across multiple noble and royal families – think about that, naysayers). It was my dad who first sold me on the possibility of Antonia being PR. So, I will consider this road to PR-ville in the same manner as I did the Nest of Vipers theory – with this PR theory having perhaps the better claim.

I mentioned earlier that the General Audience almost certainly paid little attention to Antonia’s existence at the Boss event. Although some people may find what I’m about to say a bit unkind, it doesn’t make it any less valid (and I’m not saying it to be cruel): Antonia, in the overall scheme of things, is of very little importance to the General Audience. She has less than 15 thousand followers on Instagram, even after being connected to a man who has almost three million. However, oddly enough, that didn’t prevent the Daily Mail from dropping a story which predominantly focused on Antonia within the same timeframe that images from the Boss event were being dropped on the Internet. It also didn’t prevent video footage of Luke and Antonia at the Boss event from being leaked online almost immediately – even when there were undoubtedly more famous celebrities attending the event. I’ll be realistic with this next comment, too: Luke may be relevant to the Bridgerton fandom, but that does not mean he is significant to, say, People Magazine’s average reader. So, why the sudden burst of publicity at this event?

I waited to write this entry to see what Luke did with the exposure from the Boss event. Would he finally put Antonia on his Instagram grid? Would he put her in his Instagram stories? Would Antonia post pictures from the event on her Instagram grid or stories? Would Luke unambiguously acknowledge a relationship with Antonia?

Although Luke posted to his Instagram grid and stories about the event, he did not include Antonia – at least not directly. The closest he came to including Antonia was via an Instagram story – on which he did not tag her – of a black screen with a link to a Boss TikTok that included images of Luke and Antonia from the event. The TikTok did not tag Antonia either. Luke did not post Antonia’s image to his grid or his stories.

And Antonia didn’t post about the event at all.

I wasn’t sold on a PR narrative when I started writing this entry, but my eyebrows raised when I saw Luke’s “black screen” Instagram story. This was either Luke attempting to circumvent the Lutonia narrative while throwing Antonia a bone, or it was Luke being an absolute douche of a human being. And, if it’s the latter, Mr. Newton needs to check himself into Assholes Anonymous.

I will concede that a couple of mutuals put up a few stories about the event (which disappeared after 24 hours) and Boss included (and tagged) Luke and Antonia in an Instagram and TikTok reel – without formally identifying Antonia as Luke’s girlfriend. On a side note, Luke could have reposted either of these reels – which tagged Antonia – but he did not. Luke also did not like this Boss Instagram reel with Antonia in it (and he does not have a public TikTok account), but Luke did like a separate Boss post of him and David Beckham (without Antonia). The only news outlets that called Antonia Luke’s “girlfriend” were rag-mags like the Daily Mail and Hello, both of which put an emphasis on Antonia. Digital Spy noted that Luke and Antonia “have yet to officially confirm their relationship.” So outside of some tagged reels (that weren’t reposted or acknowledged by Luke) and rag-mag speculation, what did Antonia get from this?

Dad: Publicity.

A single word but one that resonates throughout an otherwise silent wood.

But to be honest, I’m not entirely convinced this was for publicity. I’m not saying I believe Antonia is Luke’s girlfriend either – that’s a whole cauldron of contradictions on its own. I’m simply intrigued that Antonia has her Instagram tags turned off and she has not yet allowed any Boss event tags to appear on her page. So, outside of some junky rag-mag callouts and a few TikToks, what benefit did Antonia receive? And, if Antonia didn’t truly benefit from this appearance (or, at least she doesn’t appear to be reaping the rewards from a girlfriend or PR standpoint), who did benefit?

I mentioned at the beginning of this post that a series of events had happened one after the other over a relatively short two-week period: (1) Luke’s mum mentioning “Luke’s girlfriend…from Cyprus” in a Facebook response; (2) leaked video and photos of Luke from a funeral; (3) those utterly ridiculous pap pictures of Nicola and Jake; (4) Nicola stating she and Luke were “just friends” in an interview; and (5) the sudden summoning of Antonia after exactly six months of being MIA.

As I sat here writing out the events of the past two weeks – and considering the reappearance of Antonia – I couldn’t help but speculate as to whether each of these events was meant to have a specific purpose that didn’t get its desired result.

The comment by Luke’s mother was so far out in left field, most Lukolas chucked it up to being suspicious and dismissed it as such. The funeral pictures and video released by one of Luke’s family members was quickly scrubbed from social media; therefore, just as quickly ignored. The pap pictures of Nicola and Jake were openly mocked across social media as being staged. The “just friends” comment – after almost a year of, particularly, Nicola dodging that phrase – didn’t seem to send many Lukolas overboard. Is it possible that the fandom’s mild reaction to all these events wasn’t anticipated? Which leads me to wonder if Luke and Nicola wanted a reaction and realized the only way they were going to get it was to play the only card they had left – Antonia.  

When you look at the above referenced events individually and collectively, they appear to indicate a push to shut down the Lukola narrative. Why?

They could have shut down the Lukolas before the World Tour even took off. They could have shut down the Lukolas during the World Tour. They could have shut down the Lukolas after Papsmear. Why wait almost a full year to draw the line in the sand? Especially after every devoted Lukola would argue that (mostly) Nicola has left a trail of Swiftie-like clues to insinuate Lukola is real, and that Luke has made a visible effort to remove Antonia from his narrative.

Whatever the reasoning may be, we must admit Antonia’s reappearance had a purpose – and one that we need to respect. I have a hard time believing Luke would voluntarily step in the same pile of dog shit he stepped in back in June without a valid and significant reason for doing so.

And this is where I will draw the line.

I will not speculate further about why Antonia suddenly rose from the ashes of Manderley – and I will not tell you which road to take from here. That’s something you need to do on your own but, be warned that regardless of which road you choose – the one where you conclude Luke and Antonia are a couple, or the one where you decide Antonia is playing the role of PR distraction – the Lukolas are currently fighting a losing battle.

The Lukolas have become collateral damage. They’ve either been caught in the crossfire of an online war between Luke and Nicola (and their respective sidekicks) over, presumably, Antonia; or they’re the unwitting victims of some messy PR bullshit that has resulted in Lukolas being bullied across every social media platform by rabid Jakolas and Anti-Lukes.

Amazingly, though, many Lukolas remain resilient.

When the going gets tough…

But sometimes the tough don’t get going.

Yesterday, someone wrote to me, “Why are we still here? Just when we think something good is finally going to happen we get pushed back down. I’m tired of the dumb games.”

I rarely answer “Asks,” but my response to this comment is:

“Two roads diverged in a wood…”

Two roads.

One road is quite disheartening and the other is shrouded in underbrush.

But what you've overlooked is that there is an alternate path – a third road – the one that brought you to this point.

Turn around.

That road takes you back home – and, if you’re ready to go home, go home. It’s okay. It takes an unbelievable amount of courage to admit you’ve had enough. Remember that saying – “A wise woman once said, ‘fuck this shit,’ and she lived happily ever after.”

Take your time and decide what makes the most sense to you.

Dad: What are you thinking?

Me: Of a poem.

Dad: Oh, which one today?

Me: “Two roads diverged in a wood, and I – I took the one less traveled by…”

Dad: Which road is that…?

P.S. Just for a bit of comic relief at the end of an otherwise somber post (not even Dad could make it lighthearted), I just wanted to say:

I love eating grapes.

IYKYK.

Those links I promised: